Suspicious Seaweed - 4. The Barrier

"You can't use longer slings until you master the smaller ones," Griffin instructed me.

We were training near Maren's temple, and even though I wanted to dive straight into hand-to-hand combat, Griffin insisted on teaching me long-range attacks first. The training was intense, and I struggled to master the techniques. As much as I wanted to question his methods, I decided against rebuffing the help he so freely offered.

"Remember, at first, you'll only be able to fend off one attacker with the first swing," the lavender merman continued. "The others aren't going to want to let you land a second throw. But it's always useful to have a pouch of stones with you at all times, whether it's one betta or a group of loaches."

My dominant wrist protested, along with a line of muscles down my back from my initial failed attempts at hurling stones, but I gave it one more try. My body ached, but my determination remained unwavering. Spinning the sling wasn't the challenge; it was releasing it consistently in the direction I wanted to aim. Griffin's expertise enabled him to find enough stones of a similar size and weight to give me a fighting chance. At first, he suggested using the sharp stone he'd gifted me, but I preferred to keep it safely tucked away in my hair, pinning a half ponytail at the back of my head.

When I finally managed to aim within a meter of my target, Griffin taught me how to stretch and control my movements. "These movements don't have to be precise," he explained as he pulled his arms out wide and then tucked them in, his fists held at his waist. "Just measured and controlled. You need to learn your range and how to ground yourself with calm instead of rage."

"It's easy to be calm right now, with you here," I confessed. "But what about when I'm stiff with fear?"

"Your body remembers," Griffin responded. "Just like when you dance. Once you know the movements, you can trust your body to know what to do. And when you don't have to worry about thinking ahead, that's when you can focus on the movements of your opponent instead. You'll feel more in control when you enter the flow of reacting."

After finishing my final stretches, I swam as close to the barrier as possible and held my arms through it. Griffin reached in to hold my hands, wary of dragging either of us too close to the brackish water. I merely smiled.

"Aunt Hali and I used the barrier when we traveled sometimes," I said as I tugged myself inside the barrier, prompting Griffin to tense up. "If we stay in it too long, we suffocate just like anyone else. But bettas can withstand brackish waters for longer than saltwater brethren like you."

"While this can help me correct your stances," Griffin admitted as he lifted a hand to cup the side of my face, "you shouldn't be submerged in brackish water for long. Like you said, it's still dangerous."

I took hold of Griffin's hand and nuzzled it. "I wish we were the same, that I could breathe in your waters or you in mine."

"As do I," Griffin confessed. Then, in a moment of boldness, he decided to briefly join me in the brackish water, risking it all for the temptation of a kiss.

I wrapped my arms around his shoulders as our lips met. All thoughts about suffocating drifted right out of our minds as we lost ourselves in one another's mouths. If there had been any lingering doubt about how we felt for each other, it disappeared faster than a squid camouflaged in its surroundings. After a moment, we were forced to move back into our respective waters, keenly aware that any prolonged stay in brackish water could cause damage. The barrier dividing different species of merfolk was a constant reminder of the obstacles between Griffin and me. Yet our hands remained entwined inside it.

"Let's meet back here tomorrow," Griffin suggested.

I agreed. We reluctantly let go and began to swim away, but we paused to glance back at each other. I smiled, and Griffin returned it. My high spirits persisted all the way home.

"You seem to be in a good mood," Aunt Hali greeted me.

I admitted, "I've met someone kind who has been teaching me defensive combat. He even helped fend off the betta who stole my yellow scales." My eyes sparkled with joy, but then the happiness shifted into sorrow. "But it's not really possible for us to be together." I slumped my shoulders, my voice tinged with regret.

"He?" Aunt Hali prompted. "And why isn't it possible? Though rare, I've seen same-gender pairs—"

"No, it's not that… I mean, that's part of it," I countered. "But Griffin is a saltwater merman. Even if we wanted to, we could never truly be."

"So quick to quit before you've even tried?"

"We can't survive in one another's water. Our bodies were built differently."

"Be that as it may, don't you dare yield so quickly. I won't be here for much longer. You can search for a place you can both withstand. You know how vast the sea can be. We traveled so far over the years and never came across a place twice." Aunt Hali's words carried a weight that I couldn't ignore, instilling a sense of resoluteness in my heart.

"You think there's a place out there that can sustain us both?" I asked, my voice tinged with optimism.

"If there wasn't, why are there so many Maren songs about it? These songs speak of unity, especially in a sea full of such diversity," Aunt Hali explained.

"Is that what the songs mean?"

"Peter, if this Griffin fellow supports you, asking for nothing in return except your survival, it's worth more than an entire community of violent bettas," Aunt Hali insisted. "Whether they're our kind or not, wouldn't you agree?"

I could hardly believe my Aunt Hali was not only approving of a union between mermen of different waters but also urging me to hold onto it. If what she said about the Maren songs alluding to mixed groups was true, then I wondered where such groups lived. Was there really a way for the two of us to live in the same region? The possibility of a shared future ignited a spark of hope inside me.