Prologue

On a boat that was old before they were born, two fishermen sat several kilometers out from the bay of Osaka. A leak had sprung from the bottom of the hull. The older man cursed.

“Grab me that mallet, will you?” The boat wobbled as he stood, as his friend passed him the hammer. The younger man chuckled, holding a spare board down. “You hear that creaking? It’s calling you ‘Help, fisherman-san, end my life.’”

The older fisherman spat and kicked the boat, causing both men to wobble, much to the younger man’s chagrin. “You’ll survive if you know what’s good for you.”

“I’ve had the hull changed, the keel reinforced, I even got us new oars.”

“She’s practically brand new!” said the young man, wincing at the decrepit boat.

“No, she’s not,” replied the older fisherman, missing the joke. “She has the parts that matter.” He ran his fingernail along the edge of the hull till he found a set of old grooves. “I was born in this boat, you know?”

“Eh?”

“My father was clever enough to trick his wife into thinking it was a bed. You should have seen my face when I told mine.”

“Red and swollen?”

“Both cheeks.” The older fisherman nodded. “Three generations, and hopefully many more.”

“For that boy’s sake, I hope he throws it out as soon as he can.”

The older man scoffed.

“He’ll have more than two cheeks swollen and red.”

He looked out into the horizon, to the shadows of other boats in the late afternoon light.

“I want him to have this boat, not because it’s his right, but because it’s my right to give it to him. It’s an act of love from a father to his son.”

He poked the younger man with his toe.

“You should understand. Didn’t you become a father too?”

The younger man looked back to the bay quietly. “Perhaps not for much longer.”

“It happens.” said the old man, grimly. “All you can do is pray to the gods and hope you will have someone to leave your love to.”

The red stretched from the horizon to the sky, cutting a swath of dark blue. Both men stood, whispering a silent prayer to the sea as they reached their nets.

All of a sudden, it began to rain, little droplets catching bits of sunset and refracting it into something darker, almost bloodlike. As the younger fisherman looked over the water, he could no longer see his own shadow. He knew something had arrived.

Large waves were rolling all about them, as though something massive was moving beneath the water. In a panic, the younger fisherman threw an old ladle from his bag into the water.

“Easy now!” said the older fisherman, laying low in the boat. “Save your charms for when you actually see a demon.”

The younger man nodded, but did not ease up in the slightest. He had seen the gods that walked in the forest and along the shore. He often expected misfortune from those that swam beneath him.

He did not expect the opposite was equally possible.

The waves began to subside, the rain still peppering their faces.

“Grab the nets while we still have the chance!” yelled the older man.

They could tell from the heft of their net that something was different. There was a faint

light from the depths like they were pulling the setting sun from out of the water’s.depths.

The older fisherman looked on in disgust, but the younger man couldn’t help but feel his heart ache. It was clearly not of their world, with a grimacing ape-like face attached to the shimmering luminescent scales of a fish body. As their eyes met, it seemed to understand where it was as it began to thrash violently, threatening to capsize the whole boat.

“Cut her loose! Now!” ordered the older fisherman, as he fell backwards nearly into the water.

The younger fisherman drew his knife.

Suddenly, he understood what it meant to act with love. It need not be kind nor does

need be good—but it is everything you can give. Anything you can leave that will last long after you’re gone…only he did not know truly how long it would last.

Only the scent of blood now, and the cry of his child later.