Chapter 1: Night Catch

Massimo has done so much for Alberto. Alberto wants to return the favor, but it lands him in a dire situation.

The clink of glass cups and plates rang off the table downstairs. Alberto inhaled deeply: trenette al pesto. His favorite! Well, anything made by Massimo was his favorite. Massimo could cook just as well as he could fish.

Alberto listened to the kitchen noises as Massimo finished making dinner. Whether on the boat or at home, Massimo seemed to always be at work. Catching fish, preparing meals, fixing the leaky pipes; and throughout all of it, Alberto never heard him complain once. Not even when he had accidently set Massimo's boat on fire.

Massimo had done so much for Alberto. In return, Alberto wanted to do something for Massimo.

Sure, he was a great help when it came to fishing. He knew the bay better than anyone in Portorosso. He could find a school of fish in his sleep. But he was almost too good. Massimo had actually dumped some of Alberto's catch back in the sea once, explaining that if they took too many, it could affect the population.

Alberto tried finding other ways to help out around the house. The nets always needed cleaning, so he would sometimes busy his afternoons picking out algae and sea cucumbers. That got boring fast though, so he tried speeding it up a bit by throwing the net in the water and hoping everything would dissolve on its own. An hour later, he found it clogged even worse. Massimo hadn't been too pleased to find he wasn't able to use his best fishing net that day.

Machiavelli stretched contentedly next to him. Smiling, Alberto patted the cat on the head, then rolled over on his belly. He tapped his fingers on the page between his elbows. On it was a list of words, most he had crossed off: help in the kitchen? Massimo would never allow that again. Clean the house? Good, but sort of expected. Alberto wanted to do something more meaningful, something that really expressed to Massimo just how much he appreciated him.

He thought he'd write a letter to Luca asking for ideas. The letter was only half-finished. Machiavelli sort of interrupted Alberto by leaping on the bed and using the letter as his placemat. Alberto thought about disturbing the cat so he could continue, then instead consulted his list.

For probably the twentieth time, Alberto read it over. The only words that didn't have lines through them were cleaning and fishing. He supposed they weren't bad options, though they felt lacking. Then again, they hadn't made very decent fishing hauls lately. If Alberto could supply their stock in time for tomorrow, Massimo wouldn't have to trouble himself to take the boat out.

Just, don't use his boat without permission this time, Alberto noted silently.

"Alberto, cena," Massimo called, and Alberto pushed the papers aside.

"Coming!" He hopped to the floor and half-slid, half-climbed down the ladder to the main level. He used his time at the dinner table to summon the best plan on how he was going to pull off his surprise. They hadn't started for two minutes when Alberto noticed Massimo was… smiling at him?

"What?" Alberto asked, hovering his fork outside his mouth.

Massimo quickly went stoic. "What?"

Alberto blinked. "You were smiling."

"Was I?" Massimo asked, and Alberto started to snicker.

"Uh, yes. I saw you!"

"Is that right?" Massimo inquired, smiling again, and Alberto laughed.

"Seriously," He asked again. "Do I have something on my face?"

Massimo raised an eyebrow. "Can't I just be happy?"

"I guess, but not usually!" Alberto regretted this as soon as the words came out. It was meant to be a joke, but it sounded a lot meaner out loud.

To his relief, Massimo wasn't offended. He chuckled. "I suppose you have a point."

The evening was going better than expected. Alberto had been wondering how he was going to ask Massimo what was on his mind. Seeing him in such a good mood made it a lot easier for him to find the words, and the courage to bring them up.

"So, Massimo. I was thinking…" Alberto twirled his pasta with his fork. "...you've taken me out in the boat quite a few times now…"

Massimo sat up to show he was listening. Alberto continued, feeling his nerve slipping. "...you've even shown me how to use the net rigging! And, well, I thought maybe, sometime soon you'd let me… take-the-boat-out-on-my-own."

He mumbled the last part together so fast it took Massimo a moment to process. When he did, the fisherman's face became slightly pinched. "Alberto, you remember last time…"

"I know, I know, I know," Alberto said hastily. He still felt a little ashamed by the memory. "But I'd be more careful now. I'd be sure not to bring a lantern on board anymore, even if it was dark!"

Massimo's eyebrows lowered. "And why would you need to go out at dark?"

Alberto blanked out for a second. "Hypothetically, I mean." When all Massimo did was hum, Alberto freestyled. "Come on, you can trust me. I know everything there is to know about using the boat by now."

Massimo was silent and still. He was so quiet, Alberto could hear the harbor waves pushing and pulling at the shore. At last, all while Alberto had been holding his breath, the fisherman replied.

"No," he said. "You are not ready yet."

The single, simple word was almost enough to suck all the enthusiasm out of Alberto. Almost. "Just give me a chance? I promise, nothing bad will happen–"

"You can't promise that," Massimo argued.

"Well, why not then?" Alberto asked.

Massimo shook his head, searching for words and not finding them. "You're– you're just not ready yet."

"But how am I not ready?" Alberto had to try hard not to sound like he was whining. He was getting desperate to put his plan in motion, but he genuinely wanted to understand what Massimo thought he could improve on. "Maybe if you told me what it was, I could–"

"That won't make a difference," Massimo said firmly, and any reply Alberto might have made died in his throat. His face hardened, Massimo settled back down in his chair. "This isn't up for debate, Alberto. The boat isn't for you to play with. You will not use it on your own."

They finished the rest of the meal in silence. Alberto stared at his half-eaten pesto, suddenly not feeling very hungry. He took a few halfhearted bites. He could hardly taste the flavors he grew to love.

Massimo gathered the dishes like he always did.

"I could wash them tonight," Alberto offered meekly.

"No, I got it." Massimo was already filling the sink with water. Alberto watched him for a few beats, then awkwardly went back upstairs. He flopped on the bed and buried his face in the pillow.

Massimo had never yelled at him before. Stern or disapproving looks was about the extent of his communication whenever he caught Alberto pushing a boundary. What bothered him more than that though was what Massimo said, that he didn't think Alberto could learn.

Machiavelli was still passed out on Alberto's unfinished letter. Next to that was his list. Pulling it up to read, Alberto scanned through each line again. He glanced from the open shutters to the stairs. Then, with a determined face, he climbed out the window.

He wasn't going to sneak out on Massimo's boat– no. He'd definitely learned from experience not to do that again. But, he was going to have to improvise a little if he wanted his plan to work.

Picking a net on the way out, Alberto pushed through the backyard gate and walked in the fresh night air. He could have gone in the harbor just outside the Pescheria, but he couldn't risk Massimo seeing him. Taking a street off the piazza, Alberto headed for one of the small beaches.

"I'm not disobeying him by doing this," Alberto mentioned, adjusting the net over his shoulder. "It's not like I'm taking the boat out. Besides, once he sees the catch I make, he'll be too impressed to be mad."

He was used to bouncing these ideas off of Machiavelli. For the time being, he settled for a frog he found on the beach. The frog ribbetted, perhaps inquiringly.

"Yeah, I know I don't have a boat, but I'll figure it out. How hard can it be?" With the net in hand, Alberto waded knee-deep in the water. He paused, realizing he didn't plan ahead this far. The frog ribbetted a second time.

"No one asked you," Alberto told the frog, and he dove underwater.

Okay, so fishing at night was a lot different from fishing during the day. For one thing, it was much harder to see underwater. Alberto could adjust– he had night vision, to an extent– but he was much more accustomed to fishing while there was still light out. Secondly, fish weren't in the same spot they would normally be while the sun was up. Alberto had to work a little harder to find them, and even when he did he had to be extra careful not to startle them all to scatter.

He came across a school of resting fish. With barely controlled steadiness, Alberto raised either end of the net in his hands, swimming closer, closer, closer–

Alberto dashed forward and scooped up nearly the entire swarm. The fish whirled, but Alberto held the net steady and swam back to the surface. He could hardly believe his luck. His first try, and he'd gotten a whole net full of fish! Two more like that one, and he'd be finished with tomorrow's work for sure.

He resurfaced– the easy part. He met the weighed down catch with gravity– the hard part. He grunted with effort to tug the haul on land. The frog watched him do this with mild interest. A few tugs later, Alberto managed to pull the load about a yard up the shore. He rested on his knees to catch his breath.

"Okay," he panted. "Looks like we'll be here for a little while longer, but it'll all be worth it when Massimo sees–" He stopped to stare at the sea.

A single boat was bobbing in the water. From the darkness and distance, Alberto couldn't tell who was in it, though by the looks of it there were two people. He thought of Giacomo and Tomasso, a pair of fishermen he saw almost daily. Curious as to why they would be out so late, Alberto checked to be absolutely sure his fish weren't going anywhere before submerging.

He lost sight of the vessel a few times and had to bring his head out of the water to make sure he was going the right direction. Steadily he drew near, and the closer he got the less certain he was that it was Giacomo and Tomasso. This boat didn't have a magic singing lady machine, but then again Alberto did cause them to lose their first one. But there was something about the boat that didn't seem… Portorossian.

Alberto inspected the boat's underside. It was certainly bigger than Massimo's, and most other fishing vessels he'd seen. It had a bright white coating of paint that gave it a polished look. He swam from one end to the other. Curiously, cautiously, he peered his head out of the water.

"–don't think we're gonna be any more lucky at night," One voice said, and the other spoke over the first.

"I'm telling you, it's the only thing that makes sense. All the fishermen are out during the day. If we have a chance at increasing our catch, it's at night."

Two human men, by the sounds of it. Alberto didn't recognize their voices. He squinted, hoping to recognize their silhouettes.

The younger man put his arms around himself. "Hmph. I dunno. It's late; none of the fish are out. We should try again at dawn."

The older man ignored him. He pulled at a winch on one end of the boat. Alberto looked around, but didn't see anything happen from the action. The man made a dissatisfied noise, then sighed.

"I don't understand. Not all the fish should be asleep," the man said in frustration.

Alberto had a hunch. He scanned the area under the boat, then swam back up.

"Probably because a barracuda used to live here." Alberto announced, resurfacing high enough where he could lean his elbow over the side of the boat. "It's gone now, but the fish don't know that."

The two fishermen stumbled over each other in shock. Alberto raised a hand apologetically. "Oh– sorry. I should have introduced myself first. I'm Alberto."

"You're a sea monster," one of them said plainly. The other one wasn't as blatant.

"Cavolo! I guess the stories are true, then!" The older man adjusted his hat on his head, which had tilted slightly in his surprise. He studied Alberto in fascination. "There is indeed a sea monster living among this town."

Alberto casually checked the scales on his hand. "Yeah, well, I'm not the only one. There's a few more of us: the Aragosta sisters, my friend Luca, but he's not in town right now. And I guess there's Segnor and Segnora Paguro, but they don't technically live on the surface–" Alberto broke off, wondering why this was news to the fishermen. "You're not from around here, are you?"

The older man shook his head. "One could say we're a bit new in town," he said cryptically. Alberto was intrigued to hear more, but the man said nothing else on the matter. ""Now, what was that you were saying about a barracuda?"

Alberto raised himself up to sit on the side of the boat, happy to help. "Yeah– barracudas eat fish, right? There was one living here about a year ago, but after they reach a certain age they migrate to deeper waters. The fish must think it's still around if you aren't finding any here."

The younger man had an impatient look on his face. The older however gave Alberto his rapt attention. "And where would one go to find the fish at such an hour?" He asked.

"At this hour? You'd have to net pretty deep to find anything." Alberto scanned the waters, then pointed out one direction. "Try… that way. There's a drop off that the fish like to sleep in."

"Very impressive," The man said. Alberto sat a little taller at the praise. "You know, you can sell fish for a pretty good price in this old town, can't you?"

Alberto shrugged. "Sure. I mean, Massimo is the best at selling fish, but that's how most people make their living here."

"I see…" The man rubbed his stubble beard, deep in thought. "And, what about sea monsters?"

Alberto didn't quite understand. "Well, I think the Aragosta sisters are retired–"

"No," the man interrupted. "I mean what do they sell for?" He peered around at his comrade. "What do you think, Federico? What would you sell a sea monster for?"

Federico's impatient look melded into one of interest. "I don't know, Flavio. At least enough to buy us a brand-new vessel!"

"Yes, that sounds pretty good to me," Flavio agreed, and he and Federico slowly advanced. Suddenly all Alberto could see were the harpoons in their hands, the nets on the boat, the predatory look in the fishermen's eyes. He plunged back into the water.

Alberto swam straight down, out of the way of harpoons. Even from below, he could hear the crank of the winch being pulled. Earlier, Alberto didn't know what its purpose was. Now he could see exactly what it was for. Out of the darkness came the widest net he had ever seen, probably five times the size of Massimo's. He had to swerve to avoid it, and even then the rope caught on the spines of his tail.

Alberto thrashed, and for a terrifying moment was unable to free himself. The net was reeling him in. Forcing himself to calm down, Alberto inspected where the net was latched on his tail, and he reached out to untangle it. It came loose and he tore into the bay.

In his panic, he didn't think to head back to shore. His instinct took him deeper into the sea, where he was sure the fisherman could neither follow nor find him. He took cover under a rocky overhang and waited, his eyes on the surface.

The white underbelly of the boat sailed above him. Alberto ducked a little deeper in his hiding spot. Realistically, the fishermen would never see him from above water, not at this time of night, but he wasn't taking any chances.

Soon the boat drifted away downwind. Alberto didn't leave that spot for another five minutes at least, then, with acute alertness, he made a break for the beach.

His catch of fish was no longer where he left it. Despite having successfully evaded capture, Alberto was very disappointed. He had his heart set on surprising Massimo with that haul. The frog was gone, too, which left him feeling even more let down. It was just a frog, but still. Hugging his arms to his chest, Alberto started to walk out of the water and back to the Pescheria, his mind coming up with many scenarios of how he would explain to Massimo why one of his nets were missing.

A harpoon wedged itself in his path. Alberto was so shocked he fell backwards in the shallow end. Whirling around on his belly, he was faced with the white boat, and Federico and Flavio– he couldn't tell which– pointed a sort of launcher at him and released a lever.

A tethered net shot forward and encased him whole. Alberto knew how to get out of these, he just had to relax and pick through the net, but he had barely been able to calm himself down the first time. Flavio leapt out of the boat and was coming up to meet him. He carried some sort of weapon in his arms. Alberto fought for his life.

"Wait! Stop!" Alberto gasped once Flavio was nearly upon him. "Why are you doing this?"

Under the dim lighting, Alberto could see Flavio smirk. "You think I was going to let a catch like you swim away so easily? A man's got to make a living somehow." He aimed the weapon at him. "Buona notte, little sea monster."

A dart pierced through Alberto's scales. He flailed until his limbs got too heavy to move. He tried crying out for help, but his voice wouldn't work. Through blurry vision, Alberto looked at what he thought would be the last time he'd see Portorosso.

"The catch of the night, eh, Federico?" Flavio called, though it sounded distorted and distant. Alberto felt himself being dragged away in the net, and he could do nothing to stop from succumbing to a deep, unwilling sleep.

I was sort of inspired from one of the deleted scenes of the movie where Luca dreams of a factory where they turn sea monsters into cat food. (I know, dark. I'll try to keep this fic light-hearted! Maybe.) Thus, the imagination goes wild! Let me know what you think!