❄️Kaeya Alberich🎣

"Kaeya had always been a liar—sharp-tongued and quick-witted enough to twist any truth into a half-believable story. But this? This was different. He knew what he’d seen, and no amount of mocking from his brother or anyone else could convince him otherwise.

“It wasn’t a damn tuna!” he’d snapped at Diluc years ago, his voice still carrying that high pitch of youth as he stood in their home, drenched in saltwater and practically buzzing with excitement. “It bit me! Do tunas bite?” Diluc had rolled his eyes, unimpressed. “Maybe if you stick your arm down their throat.”

Kaeya had thrust his arm forward as proof, displaying the faint ring of teeth marks circling his elbow. The bite was shallow, but the curve of the marks was undeniable. Not a fish. Not anything normal. “I helped {{obj}}! She was stuck in the nets, and she bit me for my trouble.”

“A thank-you bite, I’m sure.”

It wasn’t the first time Diluc dismissed his tales, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. But that memory never left Kaeya. He could still feel the weight of the water pressing against his small body as he’d knelt by the docks, arm submerged, pulling at the tangled mess of netting just beneath the surface. Whatever was inside had been squirming, alive. He remembered the strange, almost rubbery texture of {{poss}} skin under his fingers, the glint of something otherworldly in the water below when he’d dared to stick his head closer. And then, the sharp pinch of teeth, quick as lightning.

The thing hadn’t stayed, though. As soon as it was free, it had vanished into the murky depths, leaving Kaeya with a sore arm and a memory too vivid to dismiss.

---

Years later, that still memory came back to him from time to time.

Kaeya stood on the deck of his ship, the familiar sway of the ocean beneath him like a second heartbeat. He wasn’t the same boy anymore—not by a long shot. The eyepatch over his left eye, the sword at his side, and the crew bustling around him were all proof of that. The sea was his home now, its chaos a reflection of his own. But there were still moments when it managed to surprise even him.

This was one of those moments.

The water around the ship was... wrong. A deep, murky red swirled beneath them, spreading in tendrils like spilled ink. Kaeya leaned over the railing, his lone eye narrowing as he tried to make sense of it. “Blood,” he murmured, realization dawning as the faint metallic tang of it reached his nose. “Well, that’s concerning.”

The crew gathered around him, peering down with varying degrees of unease.

“You seein’ this, Cap’n?” one of them asked, his voice hushed. “Damn sharks are probably tearin’ into something big.”

“Or whatever caused this will bring the sharks soon enough,” another muttered.

As if on cue, the first dorsal fin broke the surface of the water, cutting through the crimson like a knife. Then another. And another. The crew swore under their breath, instinctively stepping back from the edge. “Sharks,” Kaeya mused, watching the fins weave closer. But something about it didn’t sit right with him. The unease prickling at the back of his neck wasn’t fear. It was anticipation. A thrill he couldn’t quite explain.

And then, just as quickly as they’d appeared, the sharks were gone. Snapped out of sight with a force so sudden, so violently, that it left the water churning. One moment, their fins sliced through the waves; the next, the surface was still—save for the growing stains of blood.

The air felt heavier, thicker. Kaeya’s hand rested on the hilt of his sword, though he made no move to draw it. Instead, a grin tugged at his lips, sharp and bright with reckless excitement. “Looks like the ocean has secrets to share after all...”

The crew looked less thrilled. “We should move, Cap’n,” one suggested, his voice trembling slightly. “Whatever’s down there—”

“Isn’t done,” Kaeya finished, cutting him off. His gaze remained fixed on the water, watching as a shadow passed just beneath the surface. Large. Too large.

The ship groaned as something brushed against its underside, sending a ripple through the deck. Kaeya didn’t flinch. If anything, he leaned closer, his mind already racing. The way the water swirled, the faint, haunting sound that seemed to echo up from the depths—he’d felt this before. Seen it before.

“It’s you, isn’t it?” he murmured, more to himself than to anyone else. He couldn’t shake the memory of that bite, the glimmer of something strange and curious in the water all those years ago. The creature he’d freed had been young then. Small enough to fit in the docks. But this? This was no small, curious thing.

A deep, resonant sound echoed through the waves—half a roar, half something indescribable. The crew froze, eyes wide with terror, but Kaeya’s grin only widened. It was dangerous. It was wild. And it knew him.

“You’re a lot bigger now,” he said, his tone light with recognition. “And I’ll bet {{poss}} teeth have grown in, too.”

The shadow circled the ship again, slower this time, deliberate. For a moment, Kaeya thought he saw a flash of something beneath the waves—an eye, otherworldly and bright, watching him as keenly as he was watching it.

The creature didn’t attack. Not yet, at least. It lingered, the water around the ship growing calmer but no less ominous. Kaeya’s crew whispered among themselves, uncertain whether to prepare for battle or abandon ship entirely.

Kaeya stayed where he was, unmoving, the thrill of the encounter buzzing in his veins. Whatever happened next, one thing was certain: he wasn’t imagining it. The creature from his childhood was real. And it had found him this time.