...the flashlight flickered and sputtered, its beam blinking as if it were about to go out—which meant that soon, everything would be handed over to the loving embrace of Mistress Darkness, who was always delighted to welcome guests. But I had absolutely no desire to drop in on her for a visit (which sounded like an oxymoron), and so I began slapping the flashlight convulsively with my palm, trying to fix it with that eternally dumb method, hoping that somehow, miraculously, it would work.
And lo and behold! The good old method did the trick, and I could once again see the grotto and all of its indifferent inhabitants. A Pacific saury bumped right into my mask, seemingly offended by the
unexpected obstacle. I shooed the fish away with my hand—and with it, the last remnants of the strange spell that had gripped me finally slipped off.
Far away now were the pale, colorless images I'd seen: a cheerful boy, vaguely familiar, rejoicing in a new friendship. Along with him vanished the serious little girl, the forest, and everything else. It all came to me in a kind of kaleidoscope, out of which I could only barely piece together coherent fragments and try to explain them.
And I can't say I minded coming back to my senses—those visions were frightening, especially here, in the darkness and silence of the ocean depths. In this place, where something far more significant than a mackerel or jellyfish might be lurking nearby.
As soon as that thought crossed my mind, I remembered who had invited me under the rocky arches of this underwater cave. And once the flashlight showed me there was nothing terrifying nearby, I calmed down a little and decided it was time to head back up—the day had already offered more than enough impressions. I gathered my willpower, took a few photos of the grotto, and, satisfied with my effort, began my ascent...
How wonderful real air feels, not this distilled stuff! I couldn't get enough of it and even lay back on my back, floating to bask a little longer under the gentle caress of the waves. But then I remembered that something quite peculiar lived down below, and my desire to relax quickly faded. Not because it had been hostile toward me—but because of the message it had left. I didn't want to see those living visions again or follow where they led.
I swam the breaststroke slowly—I was exhausted, after all, and didn't sense any immediate threat rising from the ocean abyss. Yes, the day's events had been bizarre to say the least, and perhaps I should have been terrified, but no one down there—not even in that strange dive—had wished me harm. Unlike the world above.
The rain had stopped completely, and I now swam in calm waters, quickly reaching the shore. There, I detached my tank, took off my mask, and sat on the soft, churned-up sand, stretching out my aching legs in front of me. What a pleasure! As I indulged in this peaceful idleness, I noticed a figure walking along the shore out of the corner of my eye. I recognized it immediately and even stood up to offer a ceremonial bow. The man came closer, and I greeted him first.
Good day, Satoshi-
My respects, Erich-kun. Enjoying some rest?
Of Care to join me in contemplating the majestic reservoir of lost hopes?
Eternally grateful for your warm welcome and delighted to join your charming
He laid out his sack on the cold sand and sat beside me. Without agreeing to it beforehand, we both smirked at the lofty language we'd just showered on each other (part of our shared little game), and immediately switched to our usual friendly tone:
How are things, Satoshi-san? Any luck with today's catch?
He sighed heavily and pointed to the nearly empty buckets, at the bottom of which only a couple of lonely tunas splashed around.
As you can see, Erich. Today's a strange one. When I saw the bad weather earlier, I got all excited—it's usually a great sign for a good I thought I'd pull in more than usual. But for some reason, the rain didn't help at all, even though I fished in my favorite spots. You didn't forget the bait, did you?
Don't insult an old man like that, kid. You know my memory's sharper than a dozen Swiss watches, and I clear the mahjong table faster than The problem lies elsewhere, for sure!
I nodded in agreement and scooped up a handful of small pebbles, tossing them into the water in a steady stream like machine-gun fire. At the same time, I kept the conversation going:
Maybe I've got an idea about what scared the fish off
I briefly told him about my underwater adventure, looking trustingly at the fisherman I'd befriended a long, long time ago. Back then, Satoshi-san had been much more sprightly, and his teeth hadn't yet yellowed from all the plaque he constantly fretted about. He was one of the few neighbors I had,
living in a fisherman's shack not far from here. For some reason, the old man always refused to live in Heda proper—even though the village could almost be called a town by now.
I understood perfectly well why the fisherman distanced himself from society, because I myself didn't seek out company, lived a reclusive life, and had no interest in the rules that were forced upon me.
Both he and I enjoyed our simple yet peaceful lives, and so it was easy for us to become close. We often visited each other and talked about all sorts of things.
And Satoshi was the only person in the whole wide world who never reproached or judged me for my bold and unusual thoughts, and who never asked about my past. For that, I was doubly grateful to him, even if not verbally.
So I wasn't the least bit surprised by his thoughtful silence when I told him such an odd story. On the contrary, in his usual way, he pressed his ring finger to the tip of his nose — a gesture that meant he was deep in thought. I waited patiently.
Finally, he smacked his lips and said:
A fantastic story like this can point us to four possible explanations. Three of them are clearly rational: your mental issues, the effects of pressure at depth — which are similar to decompression sickness and can cause hallucinations — or your creative, imaginative mind, which might've helped you paint those ephemeral scenes in your perception.
I always loved listening to Mr. Satoshi. He always broke things down so interestingly and clearly — not surprising, considering how much he read and studied, despite working a regular job.
Shall we set aside the natural explanations? – He asked. I shrugged and muttered: I don't think it's about any of
He sighed and reached into the pocket of his windbreaker, pulling out a palm-sized smartphone and started swiping the screen, muttering:
Just a sec… I came across something about them online recently. You know how I love learning new things — especially reading and listening about the nature, cuisine, traditions, and myths of my homeland. And that's what this is about. Ah, here! Found it. Look.
I leaned closer and tilted my head, looking at a drawing of some white anthropomorphic creature swimming in the depths.
Got it? – The fisherman asked. – That's a Ningen — a sea cryptid, said to live in the waters of Nippon and Most often, this creature swims in uninhabited areas. And ours, as you well know – he gestured to the whole panorama – can easily be called that. I recently scrolled past some Stories and listened to a whole lecture about this beast from a blogger who's not exactly scientifically credible, but if you want — I can fill you in.
I didn't know what to think. On another day, I might've just sat there stunned by what I'd heard, but right now, I was almost ready to believe it. Even if the artwork showing the Ningen was just a
product of the artist's imagination — it looked so much like the creature I had seen in the depths. Of course, I hadn't seen it clearly, but certain details fit together.
Pleased with my reaction, the fisherman adjusted the brim of his wide hat and stared into the stillness, now touched by drops from the rain that was starting to pick up again:
I'd allow myself to freely rephrase a classic and say, -There are more things in the Pacific Ocean, dear Erich, than are dreamt of in our philosophy.- Grandpa's clearly out of it Someone bring him some pills — better yet, a whole handful with two or three strong orderlies.
I jerked my head up and saw my sister, sleepily blinking and holding a mug of coffee. -Wow, she's settling in fast,- I thought, displeased.
Fortunately, the old philosopher didn't hear the insulting remark, and when he noticed Luisa, he gave a polite bow. I introduced them quickly and decided to send my friend on his way — I didn't want this acquaintance going any deeper, considering my sister's unbearable character. I valued my friendship with the old man too much to let it be ruined by someone who, though related to me by blood, was practically a stranger.
As we stood watching the fisherman's figure fade into the distance, Luisa took a whiff of her Arabica and snorted: