Saturday arrived with a heaviness that clung to the windows.
Rain hadn't started yet, but it hovered in the air like a held breath. Gray clouds smeared across the sky, dimming the apartment, muting the usual warmth. Weekends were supposed to feel different — relaxing, playful, free — but this one felt sluggish. Quiet. Off.
Light sat at the breakfast table with his chin resting against his palm, slowly poking a piece of toast around his plate. His usual calm wasn't the peaceful kind today. It was dulled. Pale. Like something inside him was conserving energy.
Raylene noticed instantly.
Zenith did too, though he didn't say anything. He sat beside Light, hands loosely wrapped around a mug that had long stopped steaming, staring into the rain-heavy sky with a distant expression. Some shadow from yesterday still lingered in his posture — subtle, but unmistakable.
Raylene's gaze shifted between the two of them.
Light, dim.Zenith, quiet.The room, gray.
She set her fork down."So," she tried, voice warm, "is there anything either of you would like to do today?"
Light shrugged without lifting his eyes. "Not really."
Zenith didn't react at first — but Raylene caught the way his fingers tightened slightly around the mug.
Light wasn't the only one with dimmed light today.
Raylene sat back, thinking. A gloomy day outside. A gloomy mood inside. Silence hanging between her boys like a fog. She hated watching both of them drift like this.
Then — an idea flickered.
"What about…" she began slowly, "visiting the new aquarium? The big one that just opened downtown."
Light looked up at her. Zenith did too.
Both with the exact same expression:
"Why?"
Raylene huffed a laugh through her nose. "Because it's indoors. And warm. And it might be fun."
Light blinked.He wasn't convinced.
Zenith was even less convinced.
Neither understood the appeal of watching fish glide past glass walls. It sounded… pointless. Motion without meaning. A visual distraction with no intellectual challenge for Zenith and no emotional spark for Light.
But—
Light did tilt his head a little."I've never seen sea animals up close," he admitted quietly. "Only pictures."
Raylene's smile softened, warm despite the gray light around them. "Then this is the perfect weather for it."
Light considered it for a moment longer, then gave a small nod.
Zenith watched him first — and when Light agreed, Zenith sighed softly and nodded as well.
"Alright," he said. "We can go."
Raylene clapped her hands once, pleased. "Great. We'll leave after breakfast."
Light poked at his toast again — but this time, a little more energy returned to his movements. A tiny spark. Not bright, but present.
And the golden light that often lingered unseen in the corners of their world — symbolic, silent, protective — seemed to flicker faintly, as if acknowledging the decision.
A gloomy day.A quiet mood.A family trying to lift itself upward.
The aquarium would be a small light in the gray.
Or maybesomething else entirely.
---
The rain finally began to fall as they stepped outside — soft at first, then steady, drumming gently against the roof of the car as Raylene started the engine.
Light buckled himself into the backseat, pressing his forehead lightly against the cool window. Droplets chased each other down the glass in slow, shimmering paths. The gray sky turned everything a little blurrier… a little softer.
He watched the world slide past like he was the main character in a book he didn't realize he was in — eyes distant, thoughtful, almost cinematic in the way he tracked each drop of rain.
Raylene glanced at him in the rearview mirror and smiled."If you start narrating your life dramatically, I'm banning sad music in this car."
Light blinked."I'm not narrating," he whispered.
Zenith shifted in his seat — Raylene let him ride shotgun because he looked like the kind of man who instantly tries to take over navigation even when he's never been to the place before.
He wasn't looking at Light.He wasn't looking at Raylene.
He was staring out the window with razor-sharp focus, eyes flicking from one passing object to another.
Billboard.Another billboard.Store sign.Restaurant menu.Traffic light.Intersection.Pedestrian patterns.Umbrella colors.Roadside advertisement featuring a smiling dolphin mascot for the aquarium.
Zenith's brain clicked through them like he was scanning data in real time.
Raylene sighed, amused."You're analyzing everything again."
Zenith didn't deny it — or even react.He simply answered in the calmest tone possible:
"It's impossible not to."
Light's reflection in the window lifted an eyebrow at him."You're doing the thing," Light said softly.
"What thing?" Zenith asked.
"The thing where you look like you're cracking a code but it's just… a billboard for discount sushi."
Zenith looked mildly offended."It's important to understand how public messaging manipulates consumer behavior."
Raylene nearly choked on her own laugh, covering it with the back of her hand.
Light returned to watching the rain, his expression softening again, thoughts drifting somewhere Raylene couldn't see.
But she could see something else:even through the gloom, he glowed a little more than he had at breakfast.
She reached over and rested her hand on Zenith's arm while she drove — a small gesture, grounding.Zenith paused in his analysis of a "40% Off Crab Sticks!" billboard and looked at her briefly.
He relaxed.Just slightly.Enough.
Light caught the moment in the mirror.His little smile was barely there, but it existed.
The car hummed along the wet streets.Rain streaked the windows.Gray clouds followed them.
A family in a quiet bubble of warmth,driving toward blue tanks of light in a newly opened aquarium,each carrying their own shadows and sparksin the soft, rainy morning.
---
The moment they stepped inside, the world changed.
The gloomy gray outside fell away, replaced by a cool wash of deep blue light that rippled across the floors and walls like they were walking underwater. The ceiling arched high above them, lined with shifting reflections from an enormous tank that stretched across the lobby.
Raylene exhaled softly."Wow…"
Light stopped walking altogether, his eyes widening as gentle waves of blue slid across his face. His breath fogged the glass ever so slightly when he stepped forward to look closer at the massive tank beside the entrance.
Tiny silver fish darted in synchronized bursts, their scales catching the light like scattered stars caught beneath the sea.
Light whispered it, almost reverently:
"…beautiful."
Zenith — who had been prepared to roll his eyes at this entire outing — walked up beside him and blinked slowly.
His mind clicked immediately into analysis mode.
"That shoaling pattern is inefficient," he murmured. "They're wasting energy banking so sharply on the left side of the tank. Their leader might be inexperienced."
Raylene turned to him slowly."Zenith."
"What?"
"They're fish."
Zenith stared at her like she had missed the point entirely."Exactly."
Raylene bit back a laugh.Light didn't — he snorted quietly into his sleeve.
---
The entrance path wound past a long row of tanks, each glowing with a different shade of underwater blue. Soft bubbling sounds filled the air. Signs explained species names and habitats, though Light barely registered the text.
He was glued to the glass, palms resting lightly against it, eyes tracking every creature with fascination.
Raylene's heart warmed just watching him.
Zenith, on the other hand, was already three levels too deep in psychobiological profiling.
"That one's territorial," he muttered, tapping the glass lightly near a particularly round fish with a grumpy face. "See how it guards its rock? Interesting dominance behavior."
"Zen," Raylene warned.
"What?"
He tapped again.
The fish glared back.
Light covered his mouth to hide a laugh.
---
Raylene gently hooked a finger into the back of Light's collar before he could walk too close to the glass for the third time.
"Careful," she said. "You're going to leave a faceprint."
Light blinked, leaning back just enough, though his eyes never left the swirling blue world behind the glass.
Zenith nearly walked into a different tank while craning his neck to analyze a spotted eel.
Raylene caught the back of his shirt too.
He paused."…Thank you."
She smiled. "Boys."
---
The gloom they'd started the morning with —the tightness in Zenith's shoulders,the dim light in Light's eyes,the heavy stillness in the apartment —
was slipping away, slowly but surely.
Light's face glowed with each new creature that drifted past.Zenith's focus sharpened, but with interest, not fear.Raylene's steps lightened, warm satisfaction blooming in her chest.
She glanced at the two of them —Light pressed to the glass,Zenith leaning in with unnatural intensity,both illuminated in deep shimmering blue —
and felt something inside her ease.
They needed this.All of them.
---
The aquarium wasn't empty.Families wandered through the dim blue corridors, voices echoing softly under the glow of shifting water. Kids pressed hands to glass; parents snapped photos; the air smelled faintly of salt and metal.
Raylene walked ahead, eyes bright as she pointed out another tank to Light.Zenith followed close behind, gaze drifting—not at the fish this time, but at the people.
A habit.A reflex.A defense system.
And then—
He saw them.
His shoulders tensed, so subtly Raylene didn't notice at first.But his eyes sharpened instantly.
The boy.And the father.
Standing near a tank of glowing jellyfish, their silhouettes unmistakable even in the underwater lighting.
The boy's posture was the same:arms crossed, jaw tight, eyes scanning for something to challenge.
The father stood behind him, grip too firm on the shoulder, voice low and corrective even now—giving instructions disguised as guidance, pressure disguised as parenting.
Zenith didn't need the child's name.Didn't need to hear the conversation.He recognized the energy immediately.
His gaze didn't leave them.
Raylene, noticing his sudden stillness, followed his line of sight—and her face brightened with polite recognition.
"Oh! That's one of the kids from Light's class," she whispered, lifting a hand in a friendly wave.
Zenith didn't react.
The father noticed Raylene's gesture and nudged his son forward. They approached with polite enough smiles, but Zenith noted the father's microexpressions:
Tension around the brow
Smile too practiced
Slight flare of the nostrils
A flash of annoyance before masking it
A discomfort with being socially obligated
Predictable.
The father gave a shallow nod."Ah—hello. Fancy seeing you here."
Raylene returned the smile warmly."Small world, right?"
Zenith said nothing.
His silence wasn't rude.It was evaluating.
The boy avoided eye contact, shifting in place. The defensive posture was worse today—more curled inward. More anticipatory. Zenith made a mental note.
Father's grip: tighter than usual.Boy's shoulders: elevated, protective mode.Stress factors increased outside school environment.Possibility of bully behavior escalating due to home pressure: high.
Raylene, blissfully unaware of the layers unfolding beside her, continued chatting lightly. "Your son's in Light's class, isn't he? Nice to see familiar faces."
The father forced a smile. "Yes. He's been… adjusting."
Zenith's eyes flicked down to the boy—then back to the father.
The man looked away first.
Just like at the school gates.
"Light, come say hi—" Raylene began, turning back toward the tank.
But Light didn't hear her at all.
He stood pressed against the glass of the jellyfish exhibit, eyes wide as glowing tendrils drifted in slow spirals. The world behind him reflected in the curved tank: a soft blue haze, his small figure haloed in underwater light.
The father followed Raylene's gaze toward Light.
Zenith noticed the father's expression change—just slightly.
A momentary tightening at the corners of the mouth.A subtle narrowing of the eyes.
Recognition.Judgment.The beginning of bias.
Zenith stepped one quiet pace closer to Raylene.
Not blocking, not confronting—but close enough to make the message clear:
I see you.And I am paying attention.
The boy beside the father shrank slightly under the tension he couldn't name.
Raylene didn't feel it.Didn't see it.She only saw two classmates at an aquarium on a rainy Saturday.
She smiled and said, "Well, enjoy your visit!"
The father muttered a polite agreement and moved along with his son.The boy cast one last sideways glance at Light—then quickly looked away.
Zenith watched them go until they disappeared around a curve in the corridor.
Only then did he exhale, barely audible.
Raylene glanced up at him."…Zen?"
He shook his head."Nothing."
But his eyes slid once more toward the hallway where the father had vanished.
Nothing, yes.
But also: everything.
Light remained oblivious, face still pressed to glass, mesmerized by the glowing creatures drifting like slow-motion stars.
Raylene's smile faded as the father and son walked away.Her gaze stayed fixed on Zenith.
Something in the set of his shoulders.Something in the stiffness of his jaw.Something in the way he kept his eyes pointed down the corridor long after the pair had turned the corner.
"…Zen?" she murmured.
His eyes flicked to her.Just once.Soft, but calculating.And she immediately knew he wasn't just being quiet.
He was thinking.
Too much.
Raylene stepped closer, brushing her fingers gently across the back of his arm. "What is it?"
Zenith hesitated.
He didn't want to worry her.Didn't want to bring tension into an outing he knew she'd planned to brighten their weekend.Didn't want to pull the heaviness from yesterday back into today.
But—
Light had told her.She already knew something was wrong at school.
So he didn't lie.
"That boy," Zenith said quietly, eyes still flicking toward the hallway, "is one of the ones who's been giving Light trouble."
Raylene's eyes widened in a soft, startled blink."Light told you?"
Zenith paused.A thoughtful beat.A too-long silence.
"…Yes," he answered, but he didn't elaborate.
Raylene waited — expecting more — but it became clear that was all he would say.
She frowned slightly, but not at him.Her gaze drifted toward the jellyfish tank where Light was still pressed to the glass.
"…poor kid," she murmured, meaning both children — hers, and the other.
Zenith didn't respond.His jaw flexed once, tension simmering beneath the calm surface.
Light wandered a few steps away, drawn by a shifting shimmer in a nearby tank — dim blue, deeper than the others, lit from below like moonlight on water.
Inside, a strange creature drifted by:
Long, ribbon-like fins.Luminescent streaks of white and blue.Large, dark eyes.
It looked otherworldly — almost angelic in the way its fins rippled like fabric.
Light pressed his palm to the glass.
The creature slowed.
Turned.
And came closer.
Its fins swayed around it like strands of silk caught in a current. It rose until its eyes aligned perfectly with Light's.
Light froze.
"…hi," he whispered, not sure why he said it.
The creature tilted its head, as if listening.
Then it pressed closer.
Its forehead touched the glass exactly opposite Light's hand.
Raylene noticed first.She smiled softly.
"Well," she murmured, "someone's made a friend."
Just as Light leaned in a little more — fascinated, eyes brightening —
The creature jerked.
Too fast.
Its entire body shuddered like it had been startled by something unseen behind the glass. Its fins snapped back, and it darted suddenly toward the darker part of the tank with a violent flick of motion.
The movement sent a ripple across the water — a sharp, eerie distortion — and Light flinched so hard he stumbled backward.
His heel slipped on the smooth floor.
And for the first time in… months?Years?Raylene couldn't remember the last time—
Light made a small, sharp gasp and grabbed at the air for balance.His breathing hitched.
Tears welled instantly, like the fear had cracked something deep inside him.
He covered his mouth —a tiny, choked, almost-sob escaping.
Raylene's heart lurched.
"Light!" she rushed forward, kneeling beside him, hands gently gripping his shoulders. "Light—are you hurt? What happened?"
Zenith spun around so fast the water in the nearby tank rippled from the air shift.His eyes scanned Light's entire posture in a single sweep:
— balance compromised— knees trembling— pupils dilated— breathing irregular— emotional distress pooling too quickly— triggered by the sudden motion
Hyper-alert.Hyper-focused.
He crouched next to Raylene, close but controlled."Light," he said softly, "look at me."
Light swallowed, his voice tiny."It— it looked at me. And then— it— it just—"
He couldn't finish the sentence.Another trembling breath.More tears.
Raylene wrapped her arms around him instantly, guiding him into her chest the way Zenith had needed her yesterday.
Light buried his face into her shoulder, trying to steady his breathing.
Zenith watched them — the tremble in Light's small frame, the rare crack in his always-calm demeanor — and something inside him tightened.
Not fear.
Not confusion.
Something else.
Something protective.
He lifted a hand and rested it gently on Light's back, grounding, careful.
"It's alright," Zenith murmured. "You're safe."
Raylene gathered Light close, her arms wrapping around his trembling shoulders. His face was tucked into her shirt, tears dampening the fabric as she stroked the back of his head in slow, soothing motions.
"It's okay, Light," she whispered."You're okay. I've got you."
Light swallowed hard, nodding against her chest—but the tremor in his body didn't ease.
Zenith rose silently to his feet.
His eyes were on the tank.
Not on Raylene.Not on Light.Not on the visitors moving around them.
The tank.
The creature.
Something about the way it had recoiled—violently, instinctively, as though reacting to something no one else could see—had pierced straight into Zenith's analysis-driven brain.
He stepped closer to the glass, hands behind his back, posture straightening in a way that drew invisible lines around him. The water cast shifting shadows across his face, making his expression look sharper, colder.
The creature had retreated into the darker end of the tank, fins trembling slightly, its body pulsing faint light as if it was… distressed.
Zenith narrowed his eyes.
It wasn't behaving like a normal sea animal.
It wasn't defending territory.Or responding to a threat.Or reacting to a loud noise.
Its movement was—
anticipatory.Reactive.Fearful.
Like Light.
For a moment, the creature peered out from behind a rock formation—one eye visible through the dark blue water.
Zenith's breath paused.
Its eye was fixed not on him,but on Light.
Even from across the room.
Zenith's jaw tightened.Something cold flickered beneath his ribs.
While Raylene continued whispering into Light's hair, a small shadow appeared in the corner of Zenith's peripheral vision.
A child.
Arms crossed.Brows furrowed.Expression sharp, curious, cruel in the way only children raised on tension could be.
The bully.
He had wandered a bit ahead of his father, standing near another tank, but his gaze was fixed entirely on Light.
On the tears.
On the shaking.
On the moment of weakness he had never witnessed at school.
His eyes lit with something unsettling —not compassion,not concern,but twisted curiosity.
A confirmation of something he believed about Light.A spark of satisfaction.
Zenith's head turned.
Slowly.
Precisely.
A single degree at a time.
Until his gaze landed on the boy.
Their eyes met.
And the bully froze — mid-step, mid-observation, mid-curiosity.Stopped cold.
Zenith's expression didn't change.It didn't need to.
Cold, calculating awareness radiated from him like a silent warning.
Not today.Not my son.Look away.
The boy did.Immediately.He shuffled quickly back to his father, who hadn't noticed a thing.
Raylene felt Light's shaking increase, small gasps catching in his throat. She rocked him gently, murmuring words she wasn't sure he could hear.
"Breathe with me… you're safe… you're safe…"
Light clung to her shirt, his small fingers twisting into the fabric.
And then—
A soft glow.
Barely visible.Barely there.
But it curled around Light's foot like a warm ripple across the floor —a shimmer of golden light rising and falling in gentle pulses.
The tank's blue reflection masked it from Raylene.But Zenith, turning back toward his family, caught it from the corner of his eye.
Just for a second.
Light's shaking eased.His breathing slowed.A warmth spread across the air like a subtle heartbeat.
The golden shimmer blinked once,then dissolved.
Raylene pulled back slightly, cupping Light's cheeks.He didn't lift his head all the way, but enough for her to see his eyes — glassy, unfocused, scared in a way that was rare for him.
"What happened?" she whispered.
Light's lips trembled."It wasn't… just scared."
Raylene smoothed his hair."What do you mean?"
Light's gaze dripped back toward the dark tank.
"It looked at me," he said quietly."And it felt like it… knew me."
Raylene blinked."Knew you?"
Light nodded, swallowing.
"And then it felt like it saw something it wasn't supposed to… and that's why it ran away."
Zenith knelt down now, next to Raylene, lowering himself to Light's level.
"What did it see?" he murmured.
Light's voice was so soft the water almost swallowed it.
"…I think it saw the part of me that's not… normal."
Raylene's breath hitched.Zenith's eyes widened — just a fraction.
Light looked down, tears falling silently.
"And when it looked away… it hurt."
Light's confession hung in the blue-lit air like a fragile thread.
"…the part of me that's not… normal."
Raylene tightened her hold around him.Zenith didn't breathe for a full second.
Something cold and violent coiled in his chest — an instinct he didn't recognize but obeyed instantly.
His son had been hurt.Frightened.Shaken because something saw him in a way he didn't understand.
Zenith felt it for the first time in years:
protective anger.
Not loud.Not dramatic.Not external.
It was internal, silent, surgical —something razor-sharp and ancient unfurling behind his ribs.
He stood slowly, eyes drifting toward the dark tank where the creature had vanished.
His jaw tightened.
He wasn't angry at the creature.Not exactly.He was angry at the idea that anything — anything at all — would frighten Light in a way that left him trembling like this.
Raylene sensed the tension building beside her.
"Zenith," she said gently, "let's… take a break. Please. We can sit somewhere quieter. Away from the crowd."
Zenith exhaled slowly through his nose, forcibly grounding himself.
He gave a curt nod."Yeah. That's a good idea."
Raylene stood with Light still clinging to her shirt, wrapping her arm around his shoulders and guiding him away from the tank.
Zenith followed one step behind — close enough to protect them, far enough to not overwhelm Light.
As they walked, Zenith glanced back — just once, purely out of instinct.
His breath halted.
The creature had re-emerged from the shadows.
Not swimming.Not drifting.
It was pressed softly against the glass, fins splayed, its large eyes following Light as he moved away.
Exactly like before.
But this time—
It didn't look curious.It didn't look afraid.
It looked sad.
The water around its body rippled with a faint, rhythmic pulse — almost like a heartbeat syncing out of place.
Zenith stared back at it.
For a moment, it felt like a conversation neither of them knew how to have.
Then the creature blinked slowly.A gesture too human to be accidental.
Zenith looked away only when Raylene touched his arm.
"Come on," she whispered.
---
They found a small alcove with a bench under a curve of dim, glowing glass. The blue glow painted Raylene's hair in soft underwater hues. Light sat between his parents, curled slightly inward, hands twisting in his lap.
Raylene stroked his back.Zenith rested a steady hand on his shoulder.
And then—
The air shifted.
A warmth rolled across the floor like a gentle tide.
A soft golden shimmer rose around Light's shoes, swirling upward in delicate, protective arcs — brighter than before, glowing through the blue tint of the aquarium lights.
A few sparkles drifted upward like floating fireflies.
Raylene didn't see it.
Zenith did.
His eyes widened, breath tight in his throat.
The golden light pulsed in time with Light's breathing, smoothing it, softening each shudder, warmth spreading across his small frame like a blanket woven from sunlight itself.
Light exhaled slowly.The trembling eased.He leaned into Raylene's side, calmer.
The golden light lingered a moment longer, wrapping around him in a quiet embrace —
then it gently dissipated.
A final shimmer.A single spark.
Gone.
Zenith swallowed.
He wasn't sure whether to feel gratefulor terrified.
Maybe both.
---
The bench glow softened around them.Light's breathing steadied.Raylene kept an arm around him, thumb stroking small circles along his shoulder. Zenith sat on his other side, posture protective, gaze flicking back toward the tanks every few seconds.
He couldn't help it.
Something in that creature's reaction had unsettled him.
Raylene pressed a soft kiss to Light's hair."Do you want to go home, Light?"
Light didn't answer.
His eyes were drifting — not at the floor, not at his lap, but toward the tank they had just left. The distant, dark corner of it was barely visible from where they sat, just a sliver through an archway.
And then—
A sudden ripple broke the surface of the tank.
Even from far away, Light saw it.
The creature flashed into view for a single instant — body tense, fins tight, eyes wide — before it plunged down, disappearing into deeper, darker water as if something had frightened it.
Raylene didn't notice.
Zenith did.
His body went still.
It wasn't normal fish behavior.It wasn't a feeding pattern.It wasn't a territorial retreat.
It was fear.
The creature hadn't fled from the glass.Or from the crowd.Or from noise.
It had fled when Light looked back.
Zenith turned his head slowly toward his son.Light was still watching the now-empty corner of the tank, small chest rising and falling with controlled breaths.
"…Light?" Zenith murmured.
Light didn't look at him.
Not yet.
He swallowed hard, fingers curling into his shirt.His voice came out tiny, shaky, almost afraid to exist.
"Dad…"
Zenith leaned in, barely breathing."Yes?"
Light's eyes finally turned up toward his.There was something ancient beneath the tears.Something aware.Something he shouldn't have words for.
"I think…"His breath hitched."I think the creature was… scared of me."
Raylene froze.
Zenith's heart clenched.
Not because Light was wrong —but because Light was right.
Zenith had seen the fear.He had seen the way the creature fled.He had seen the way its eyes widened only when locked onto Light.
Carefully, gently, he rested a hand on Light's back.
"Light," he said softly, "why would it be scared of you?"
Light shook his head, a small movement, helpless.
"I don't know," he whispered."But when it looked at me…it felt like…it saw something in me I don't understand."
A shiver went down Zenith's spine.
Raylene pulled Light closer, her voice trembling despite trying to sound calm.
"You're just a little boy," she murmured into his hair. "There's nothing scary about you."
But Light didn't agree.
And Zenith…
Zenith wasn't sure he did either.
Not because Light was dangerous.But because whatever the world saw in him — sea creatures, golden light, false memories — was something deeper than any of them understood.
Zenith swallowed, trying to steady his voice.
"You didn't do anything wrong," he said quietly. "Whatever it saw… it wasn't your fault."
Light nodded, but his eyes stayed fixed on that dark tank corner.
The creature did not return.
It stayed hidden in the depths, keeping its distance — as if even the dim blue sanctuary of water couldn't protect it from whatever part of Light it had glimpsed.