Maybe it was his raging shark DNA. Maybe it was his raging teenage hormones. In any event, Chum took the liberty of swimming away from home one day while his parents were out hunting. It was his first adventure away from home, something fish usually did with their parents. But, the bigger the fish, the fewer the rules. His parents weren't the biggest sea creatures, but they were terrifying sharks. Something Chum had to tell himself as he swam through the water, sending fish of all types scattering in fear as they yelled out warnings. For just a moment he stopped swimming, watching them disperse and feeling a rush of pride. He was going to be respected. He was going to be feared. He was going to be a monster.
That's when his chest deflated. He didn't want to be a monster! He wanted to have friends, and be loved. He wanted to be as lucky as all the little fish, which were abundant on and all around the reef. When last had he seen a young female mako? He couldn't have known her mother in her youth, but he was willing to bet there hadn't been many since his parents had met. And if she had any friends, they were probably a little too mature for him. He was going to be alone. He would live alone, die alone, and be unloved. Perhaps it was a fitting death for a monster.
Chum began swimming again, trying to ignore the wide eyes peeping up at him from every nook and cranny on the reef. Suddenly he had lost his appetite. Anyway, soon his parents would return, dragging a human net full of terrified squid, tuna, and swordfish, all clamoring to be released. Of course they wouldn't be. Surrounded by fifteen juvenile makos and their large parents of over 300 pounds, each victim would be taken out of the bag, ushered to a more private location, and killed. This process would be repeated until the bag was empty. Though the second fish and every victim that followed would realize what was happening, their fear was short-lived. And Chum and his family would be fed. It was the way of the ocean, and the only life Chum had known... But as he swam listlessly, hearing every single fish smaller than him call him "monster," he realized he would rather die than become like his parents. Such a hurtful title was not one he wanted to inherit.
But, along with a cluster of murder victims that had once been alive, and happy, and soulful, and imbued with life, it was all his parents would leave him. Him and his fourteen siblings. Boy oh boy, that was a lot of death. Though sharks could go a long time without eating, their parents had taught them to hunt before they actually needed to. The intent was to save their children from starvation. And who cared about all those other lives?
Chum cared. Every time he watched his parents kill, a little part of him died, too. Not that he would ever say it, in front of eight brothers. He was already the smallest, the slowest. To add insult to injury, he was not the youngest. They already made fun of him enough. To find out he would rather eat a plant... No. That would only result in him becoming their meal. Insider tip; there were no weak sharks. That was why, every night, his father would gather all of them and pretend to be a big bully mako, picking on them, calling them weak, pathetic, and worthless...all sorts of things. He would force his children to practice standing up for themselves. If they did poorly, they were forced to kill every victim in the net and skip dinner every night until they did better. It was his idea of making them strong.
It was why Chum had decided to leave the ocean floor. It was now why his brain was forever scarred with the image of thousands, maybe even millions of fish streaking away in little missiles of color―screaming for everybody to get away from the big bad shark encroaching upon their turf.
He didn't feel big. He felt so small as he swam away, wishing he could turn into someone else's parents. Except...he didn't know anyone else's parents. He didn't know anyone. The fact was, he never would.
Chum couldn't accept this. So he headed to the fishing grounds to speed up his demise. There had been light shining into the ocean all day, and he had to assume the human world utilized the light like they did. Otherwise, how could they see the fishing boats? It was slowly getting darker up there, but he decided he would try and try until it worked. What else was in store for a monster? No―what else should be in store for a monster? A monster like him. This is what everyone wanted. This is what the whole ocean wanted.
It would seem Lady Luck was on his side tonight. Or she also wanted him dead. He heard the motor, and poked his head out of the water, searching for the boat. He had to move quite a ways to get into its path, then dove down and waited to be captured by the net. He thought it would be nice, to move towards his demise without actually swimming there. He was so tired. He was tired all over. Young, but just...done. Done with everything.
His trials were far from over, however; instead of a net, a fishing hook dropped into the water. He looked at it for a moment in shock. Well, it was far from the absolute, encompassing certainty he had longed for, more times than he would ever admit―but it would have to do. It could be another week before a boat came by and this one was right here, right now, offering him...well, not a lifeline. The hook bobbed and swayed uncertainly in the water, further mobilized by undertows. He grabbed it with both fins and firmly began shoving it into his snout. As he was preoccupying himself with a most gruesome task, behind him a large, hulking body came slithering through the shadows, appearing to stop cold. Almost imperceptible in the dark, the gigantic fish watched silently; its massive pectorals the only part of him that moved.
Lodging the hook deeply into his nasal cavity, the rather suicidal little shark reached up with its fins and started yanking on the line.
"Oh, hello!" An excited Australian human's voice pierced the tranquility of the ocean. "By George, this feels like a monster!"
Chum narrowed his eyes, glaring at the hulking shadow as he voluntarily swam towards the boat.
Suddenly the great white shark detached from the darkness. Its body was large enough that Chum actually heard him long before he saw him, and his eyes widened as this enormous, fish-shaped shadow passed between him and the moonlit surface. Opening its mouth, the gigantic predator of predators clamped its several hundred teeth on the fishing line, snapping it like a twig―and leaving Chum to sport a completely harmless hook in his snout.
"Ah, buggers." The hookless line suddenly sped towards the surface. "I lost 'im. Oh, snap! Roger―"
"Eh?"
"Lookit that. Darn thing ate my hook!"
"Musta been a monster indeed, mate!"
"Isn't that a bugger..."
Their voices trailed off as Chum angrily followed the great white, swimming quietly away. "Hey!" he shouted, heedless of the size difference. "You really ought to mind your own business. I was trying―"
"To what?" the great white cut in, turning his body around with a great deal of noise. "Break your parents' hearts?"
Chum floundered for a response, finally avoiding his eyes.
"They're not dead, are they?"
"No!" Chum said, eyes shooting to the white's.
"Have fun explaining yourself," the white said, with a subtle glance cast down to Chum's snout.
"You know what, it doesn't matter. There'll be other fishing boats."
"Sure will, mate. But a hook on both sides'll look stupid."
Chum gave him a pointed look and reached up to his snout―and on that day, he learned his fins were too small to reach his face. After several futile attempts, he let his fins drift back to his sides. "Uh, can you help me out?"
"Sorry, kid. I'm right in the middle of minding my own business."
With that, the rude shark spun around and darted away, his deep laughter rumbling through the water like thunder.
Chum narrowed his eyes, giving one last pointless attempt to reach the hook. Then he sighed. "Well, I don't care if I ever see 'im again," he muttered. Turning homeward, he began the long and lonely journey back to his parents and the punishment that was certainly in store.
Chum beat his parents back to the ocean floor, where the seventeen of them spent their idle time at the lowest point of The Dropoff. His fourteen siblings, however, had not gone with them on the hunt, and his arrival caused another emotional outburst―not one of fear, but one of amusement. It wasn't long before Chum found himself surrounded by his brothers and sisters.
"What's that?" a brother asked, twisting sideways to tap on the hook. "What's thissere? You look like a pretty little pirate, bro!"
"Back off, Lance. I had a fishing accident." Yeah, that's what he would call it. That wouldn't break his parents' hearts.
"Here I thought you were 'just gonna step out for awhile'!" said sister Panga―they all looked alike, but her accent was the most prominent. It always gave her away.
"Why were you anywhere near the fishing grounds?" asked the most annoyingly intellectual one of all―brother Dorado. "Mom and Dad are gonna kill you."
"Not if you get it out of me before they get here. They don't have to know!"
His brothers―Jack, Notothen (who really just went by Otto), Redfin, Spook, Goby, Poacher, and of course Lance and Dorado―all laughed at him. His sisters―Mora, Opal, Rivuline, Robin, Vimba, and Panga―just idled in the water, curious and concerned.
"Did it hurt?" Opal asked.
"Yes," he answered honestly. "It hurt like a bugger."
"Children!" their mother's distant voice called. "Dinnertime!"
"No, wait, please," Chum whispered fiercely. "Someone please get this thing out of me!"
Dorado chuckled and swatted Mora on the side. "That's you in another year."
"Please," Chum repeated impatiently. "Get it out and don't tell them!"
While the others swam away, Poacher latched onto the hook...and barely pulled, making Chum cry out. "No, no, no, stop, no pulling, no pulling," he lamented, as a small haze of red drifted up between them. Unwilling to find out if they were prone to shark blood, both brothers retreated out of harm's way.
"What are ya gonna do?" Poacher asked.
He glowered, but muttered, "Face them, I guess."
What choice did he have?
"Boy. I'm glad I'm not you right now," was all Poacher offered, as they swam after their family.
It didn't take long for his fearsome father to notice. "Amber," he called, summoning his mate from one of the caves they dominated―none of the other fish would dare go past The Dropoff. They regarded it as something evil, so it was all theirs. Swimming slowly toward Chum, she began to swim faster, and stopped in front of him, painfully prodding the hook even after he had grimaced in pain.
"Well, it serves you right going to the fishing grounds," she chastised. "What were you thinking?"
"Uh, I just...wanted to see the ocean."
"Foolish child, it's all around you!"
"I wanted to see more of the ocean, Mama. The things Mr. Ray talks about!"
"Who?" his father asked.
"My new teacher."
"What happened to your old teacher?" his dad pushed.
"Dart," his mom cut in, "We have bigger problems."
"What problem is bigger than some unknown fish hangin' out with our boy? And have you thought about what your classmates will say?" Dart continued, focusing his attention on Chum. "Your classmates' parents! We have to take that thing out right now."
"I-I don't want it out. No, really," he said, cringing away from his father's slight movement, "It bloody hurts!"
"Son, that's because it's poison."
Again, his father advanced. Realizing he was afraid of pain, Chum launched himself upwards, out of the ring of mako sharks that he could not have gone through. Swimming as quickly as he could, he went in a random direction and didn't look back. He didn't want to feel it―agony. An excruciating pain that took his breath away; it would just stay in. Even if it meant... Even if it meant he would have to fade out.
Wow, he didn't realize he could swim this fast! It was actually kind of fun. Well, until he suddenly realized that the dark circles whipping past him were naval mines. Over halfway across, he lurched to a hard stop, the tip of his brand new hook missing the round metal surface of a mine by a few hairs. He swam backwards, in the direction he had just come from where he knew the path was clear. His eyes flitted nervously from one ball of death to the next.
Behind him, he heard the liquid sound of a large body. "Son!" his father whispered. "Don't you know where you are?"
"I do."
Dart let out a trembling breath and carefully began to move into the labyrinth of disaster. But Chum flared out a fin, nearly grazing the nearest mine. His slight movement made his old man stop cold. "I wouldn't," he warned him.
"I think you're being a little dramatic about a little bit of pain."
"You can't say that! You don't know how sharp these things are!" Chum exclaimed, but took his father's advice to shush.
Dart sighed, slowly swimming backward. "Don't...blow us up," he said, quietly and sadly.
Chum narrowed his eyes, watching his father swim away before he harmlessly withdrew his fin. He was tired before all that manic racing, and was accustomed to sleeping on the ocean floor...but no way would he sleep in the middle of all this. He turned, moving slowly through the intimidating maze of death. Before him, a wall began to emerge; a wall filled with crevices and holes that were adjacent to other crevices and holes leading out to the safe and open water. Chum was mostly thinking about the great white, whose species liked to feast on otters and, more concerningly, other sharks. He didn't much feel like letting his guard down out in the open. So he sank down onto the wooden floor of the ship instead, his sizeable body making a muted thump as he landed. For a brief moment he tensed, fearing it was too much for the field of mines and he would see one last second of terrible brightness... But all was dark. Dark and quiet and nice. He smiled and closed his eyes, aching for even a poor night's sleep...
When Chum awoke, he felt considerably more energetic, and the ocean all around him was bright and beautiful. He could do this. He knew how to hunt and he wasn't reluctant to eat plants. He could spend his nights here. It would all be okay. He would survive. But where was here, anyway? He twisted in the shipwreck, seeing nothing in every direction but wood and water. Wood and water. Wood and―big shark! He lunged backward, slamming into the wall and staring at the massive face looming in front of him. He tried not to hyperventilate, suddenly overcome with understanding. Surely this is how the little fish must feel. Well, he was little, in comparison to a great.
"Blimey, where the...devil did you come from?" he panted.
"I got a better question for you, mate."
The great lifted his fins, placed them on the wall between them, and pushed, seemingly without effort. The wood broke apart with a tremendous crack. The great swam closer, pressing his huge snout into the hook protruding off of Chum's face. Very gently―which was all it took for it to be incredibly painful.
"What're you doing in my house?"
Chum's eyes were locked on the pieces of wood that the great white then tossed to the ocean floor. For all of their weight, they fell slowly away.
"I, um, didn't know that-that this was your... Uh, sorry, I―" His words broke off as, finally, he heard the pieces of wood land. "I didn't, uh―"
Bored with his babbling, the great white let out a feral, terrifying yell that should have detonated every mine in the world as he suddenly lunged. Chum let out, well, the complete opposite of a terrifying yell; a noise that could have awakened the urges of a merman, perhaps, and wriggled out of the shark's murderous path. He hit the floor of the ship, breaking through with a ruckus. Unfazed, he whirled around, swimming out of the wreckage he had caused. Roaring something about a living room, he charged again. Finding the tiniest space in the ship, Chum wedged himself inside. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry, please don't kill me!" he said, feeling more like an angelfish than a shark.
His words seemed to have a calming effect on the angry white. He began to look confused, blinking down at him, then said, "No, I... I don't want to kill you."
"What?" he asked, ashamed at how badly he was shaking.
The great suddenly extended a fin, harmlessly pulling Chum out of the wreck.
"I'm a nice shark."
Chum couldn't respond; he could only scoff and motion to the sunken ship he had destroyed.
"Well, I try to be," the great growled. He rotated away, and Chum impulsively ducked, afraid of being completely obliterated. "I don't even like eatin' fish."
"Wh― I don't like eatin' fish!" Chum echoed. "It's nasty! The feeling of killing 'em―"
"Yeah, the way they beg."
"The way they look at you."
"And call you a―"
"Monster," they both concluded.
The great white considered for a moment, then introduced himself. "Name's Bruce, mate. Sorry, I guess you're not a...mindless eatin' machine either."
"Well, I t-try not to be. Don't want to be."
Bruce considered, surveying the little mako. He seemed awfully young, a juvenile. "What's your name, kid?"
"Uh, Chum."
Bruce bared his many, many teeth in a grin. "Of course it is. And what're you doin' with that thing still in your face? I'll just yank it out in one..." He stopped, looking at the retreating mako in confusion. "One quick yank, it'll be over before you know it!"
"No, just...leave it in. I, it-it's too... I like it."
Bruce nodded, looking at the hook. "Huh. Well, looks kinda cool."
"Yeah?" Chum asked, and tried passing off a laugh. He still sounded nervous.
"Yeah. What say you, kid? We'll be two nice sharks scarin' the crap outta everyone. Sounds like fun to me, whaddya say?"
Chum thought about how painful his new nose hook was, and tried to imagine the pain of being ripped out of his life just to be dinner. The pain of those last few moments, looking up into his predator's eyes and knowing there was nothing anyone could do. The pain of knowing that, maybe tomorrow, it would be his family.
"I say let's give it a freaking shot. Sounds like it'll be hard, though," he added over Bruce's chuckle. "Might be easier with more sharks."
"Yeah, structure," Bruce mused, giving an ironic smirk as he looked at the wreck. "More sharks, you say. Lemme just go see about that."
He turned with a watery whoosh and swam away. "Anchor!" he yelled, and Chum peered into the waters, wondering at his future and what was in store next...
