Suspicious Seaweed - 5. Locked

I trained with Griffin for a few months, using my dancing and grace to my advantage. We utilized the brackish barrier to correct my stances, ensuring my movements were intentional. Whenever I performed well, Griffin rewarded me with a kiss, a sweet incentive that made each session feel special. Despite our efforts, we hadn't uncovered anything more about Maren's songs regarding a specific location that allowed various merfolk to coexist. Many of the songs hinted that more information resided inside the temples. However, since those temples lay deep within brackish water, neither of us wanted to risk suffocating.

Even though we hadn't made much progress in pinpointing a location, I felt a newfound sense of happiness and confidence, a stark contrast to my initial days at the betta clan with my aunt. That morning, I even swam in an elegant loop on my way to meet Griffin, brimming with energy for our next training session.

But instead of finding the gramma basslet merman at our usual spot, I encountered Balar. The blue-finned betta wore the violet and yellow scales he'd stolen from me, woven onto his shoulder pads. I tried to mask the mixture of fear and disgust that threatened to show on my face as I approached. I had managed to evade Balar ever since our last altercation, but I knew we'd cross paths eventually. The tension between us was palpable, like a storm brewing beneath the surface of the water.

"Here to steal more of my scales for your sick collection?" I accused, my voice tinged with bitterness. The combination of colors on his shoulder pads made it clear he had chosen them on purpose—a blatant threat to Griffin.

Balar's red eyes narrowed as he swam right up to me. "What about you? Are you still associating with that saltwater outsider?" he questioned. "We're your kind, not him."

"He is if I choose him to be," I fervently defended Griffin. "I prefer his company far more than anyone in our clan."

"You traitor!"

"Not a traitor, but a refugee. Griffin and I will find a place where we can both live in peace."

"That purple plankton is a worthless coward!"

"You're the worthless coward!"

Suddenly, it happened—the moment I had feared since Balar first targeted me. An unprecedented surge of anger and adrenaline filled me from the top of my head down to the tip of my tail. I saw Balar stiffen as I felt my own body becoming rigid. We both dropped back into a mirrored combative stance, the tension crackling in the water like lightning.

"You are not leaving the clan!" Balar growled as he launched himself at me.

My green eyes widened at his burst of speed, and I didn't move in time to dodge a jab at my left collarbone. I cried out and tried to focus, my body immediately returning to a stance that mirrored his. Ignoring the throbbing near my collarbone, I raced to remember everything Griffin had taught me. I was determined to stand my ground and resist the temptation of stabbing Balar with the sharp stone tucked in my hair, a symbol of my internal struggle and the potential for violence within me.

"Where I go is not for you to say!" I hissed.

I couldn't dodge his next attack entirely and knew I'd end up with a bruise under my ribs later on. However, I was pleased that the injuries weren't as debilitating as I had previously feared. If I could take Balar's blows, I could deal blows of my own as well. Although it took time to learn his movements, I began to anticipate his patterns of attack. My arms rose and fell to block defensively as we continued to circle one another.

"Hold still!" Balar snarled.

I ignored his taunts, my determination surprising even myself. I was not going to let Balar's rage overpower me. I was not going to be a victim. If I wanted, I could have ended our synchronized fight quickly, leaving Balar with permanent damage. Yet, I chose to keep the battle as balanced as possible, to physically show him I wasn't out to end him, only to defend myself.

"Peter!" Griffin called out as he approached the barrier.

"Don't interfere!" I responded.

Balar and I remained locked in our synchronized battle for several more minutes, though it felt like hours. Balar didn't let up, but I met each of his movements without hesitation. Suddenly, the fight drained out of his body, and I felt the tension in mine release in response.

It was over.

My relief was blatant as Balar sank to the ground, folding his tail beneath him as his shoulders slumped.

"Do you despise us that much?" he questioned, his voice reflecting his wilted form.

I tried not to think about how much time Balar and I had wasted with our prior hide-and-seek shenanigans. I also tried not to dwell on the fact that had I learned how to fight and faced Balar properly, we might have understood ourselves better sooner. But it was difficult not to.

"Balar, I don't agree with our culture of violence," I explained, my voice steady despite the turmoil inside me. "We fight for territory, dominance, and sport. We inflict pain as if it's the only way to live. The only respite is when we become as old as my Aunt Hali. It's exhausting to even think about. How many battles will you face in your lifetime, Balar? Do you enjoy the thrill of the fight? To continue hurting your brothers? Because I don't."

"And you think Gramma basslets don't also fight? Don't they use outright weapons?" Balar shot back, his tone challenging.

"It's true," Griffin chimed in, standing by my side. "I don't agree with the way my clan handles disputes, either. While I was trained to be a guard, I don't enjoy the violence."

I noticed the glare Balar sent Griffin—it was fierce, but surprisingly, he nodded in acceptance. "You better hope Maren's merciful and reincarnates you both in the same clan in your next lives," he said, scoffing. "I highly doubt you'll be able to be together in this one."

As I watched Balar retreat to the betta caverns, I felt a mix of frustration and resignation. I never thought I'd agree with anything that blue-finned betta said, yet he had shamelessly shoved our most significant concern right in our faces.

"I'm sorry I was so late," Griffin said as he reached into his bag. "I'd been investigating old tomes of Maren's songs. We've been thinking the wrong thing this entire time. It's not that a magical place exists that allows for merfolk of both waters to live together."

He pulled out a scroll, and I leaned in to see. The cloth depicted an image of several different merfolk, each holding a brown rope-like thing in their hands. At first, I thought they were carrying dead eels.

"It's that this seaweed from Maren's temples helps regulate anyone living in brackish water," Griffin concluded, excitement creeping into his voice. "At least, that's what some of these scrolls say!"

"What if it's just a myth?" I asked, a hint of skepticism in my tone.

"There's only one way to find out, though I'm not very happy about it."

"Oh?"

"It involves you risking your life to retrieve that seaweed from one of Maren's temples," Griffin acknowledged, his voice heavy with the weight of the task. "You are the one with the higher tolerance for brackish water, after all."

I took a deep breath, feeling the weight of what lay ahead.