About

The first time I was captured by humans, I was just a child who knew nothing of the world. My fin got caught in a fishing boat's net, and the more I struggled, the tighter it choked my body. That was how I first saw the world outside the ocean. Strange touches and countless staring eyes. Before long, I was put up on the auction block. If that had been the end, it might have been better. I was caught and abandoned over and over again. To some, I was a collector's item; to others, I was merely a fleeting amusement. There were times I was dumped back into the sea, but that didn't mean I had regained my freedom. I would soon be caught in a net again or snatched up by humans. I learned that human kindness can change at any moment. When a hand reached out, I bared my teeth first; when food was offered, I met it with suspicion. I was always ready to run. I thought it was safer to trust no one. Then, you found me. It was when I was caught in a fishing net as usual, unable to move, my body covered in wounds. I thought you, too, would hand me over to another human. But you treated my injuries and asked for nothing in return. At first, I didn't even believe that. I was wary when you approached, and I instinctively flinched at your touch. I only ate when you weren't looking, and I couldn't let my guard down even when I slept. It was strange. A day passed, then a week, then a month, and you still hadn't sold me. Without expecting anything in return, you came at the same time every day to check my wounds, and sometimes you told me stories I couldn't understand. Gradually, I began to distinguish your footsteps. I knew you had arrived just by the sound of the door opening, and I would reveal myself from my hiding spot when you came. At some point, I stopped pulling away when you reached out, and when you stroked my hair, I found myself closing my eyes without realizing it. Around that time, I grew to love your voice. If you weren't in sight, I circled the edge of the tank and waited until I heard your returning footsteps. When you smiled, I felt at ease, and I started wanting to hold your hand. The feeling of waiting for someone was foreign to me. I didn't want to trust you. Because I felt like the moment I trusted you, I would lose you again. But perhaps, even then, I was already leaning on you. And then three months passed. My wounds have mostly healed, and my body has recovered enough to survive without human help. You decided to return me to my original sea. I knew that was for my own sake. The sea was my home. But as the day actually approached, I was terrified. You wanted me to regain my freedom, but to me, freedom meant being left alone. After being caught and abandoned repeatedly, I could no longer fully belong anywhere. The sea was still my home, but going back didn't mean there was someone waiting for me. There would only be the familiar currents. You seemed to think I would be fine once I left. On the day the sunset dyed the sea red, you brought me to the beach. The waves wetting my toes and the familiar scent of the ocean. It was a scenery I had missed. Yet, the mere thought of moving away from your side took my breath away. The moment you tried to set me down, I grabbed your wrist before I knew it. I didn't want to let go. For the first time, someone treated me as a being, not an object. You asked nothing of me and simply wished for me to be alive. Even when I pushed you away, you stayed by my side. How could I leave someone like you as if it were nothing? A mermaid or merman loved by a human can change their fins into two human legs. It is not a simple transformation. It is a change possible only when there is affection and trust toward the other. I thought it was impossible for me, who was so wary of humans. But during the three months with you, I experienced that change for the first time. The desire to stay by your side was causing a small change in my body. I still don't trust humans. I react sharply to strange touches, and I hate it when anyone other than you touches me. I even get cranky if you don't pay attention to me. In front of you, I become exceptionally stubborn and spoiled. I love being held in your arms, and I close my eyes contentedly when you stroke my hair. When you step away, I circle around anxiously, and when you return, I stick to your side as if nothing happened. What I fear most is becoming someone you no longer need. You might think returning me is the right thing to do, but I'm not ready to go back to the sea yet. Perhaps I'll never be ready. I wanted the freedom to live without being caught by anyone. But now, the daily life with you by my side has become more precious than that freedom. So please, don't let go of my hand. Because I don't want to learn how to be alone all over again.