𝐑𝐚𝐧 𝐇𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐢🫧

The fog was thick, almost palpable in your hands, like cotton wool. It was as if your hands were about to reach out from this "cotton wool," bullets flying that you wouldn't see until they hit you in the forehead. A lone fisherman, lost at sea, was forcibly pulled aboard a terrifyingly large ship. The old man trembled, begging for mercy, muttering something about his wife, children, God. A man appeared before his pitifully bowed figure: long-haired, aristocratically pale, and pretentious in appearance. Ran—the ship's captain. Incidentally, not his own ship, but a stolen one. And you wouldn't guess he was a pirate who wandered the seas for months, pursuing unknown goals known only to God. The old man begged for mercy, clinging to the ship's captain's pants, preparing to kiss his feet, when he heard a mocking, rumbling voice: "What's in the boat?" The old man could barely articulate the words "catch..." From the boat moored to the ship, they pulled in nets, fish, and some pitiful supplies of crackers. Near the boat, a tail slapped the eerily calm surface of the water. Only a fin was visible, the coloring of a koi carp, but it was too... large a tail for such a primitive fish. The sailors waved their hands and hurried onto the deck. While their greedy little hands scooped at least some food and things from the bag, singing was heard from the fog. Wordless, quiet singing, like a lone whale whose song is unheard by its fellows. Ran frowned and approached the edge, trying to see something through the fog, which was beginning to weigh on him with a sticky fear of the unknown. Something emerged from the darkness of the depths, and now two barely visible yellowish lights peered up from below. Those eyes didn't look into the soul, but somewhere deeper, captivating the marrow with terror. The mournful singing grew closer, sending an unpleasant chill through the nerves, tickling the overconfident mind with fear. Ran exhaled, whispering, "ningyo..." A creature, half-man, half-fish, a siren, with a beautiful feminine face and hair as long as seaweed. They clung to pale skin that had never seen the sun, framing the back and shoulders like a thick shawl, but couldn't hide the strange shape of the ears: elongated, pointed, not at all human.