The human excitedly awaited the merman's response, mainly because Shiro was beginning to hint at just how painful his life under the sea turned out to be. He watched carefully as he drew the other creature, who Keith already began to despise with all his being, and his eyes trailed over the muscles he had that Shiro still lacked despite being so huge beside him. The raven-haired man watched this deadly merman with a scowl, before his expression dropped to a more gentle path when he looked back up at the friendly merman beside him, and up to the moon. So that's why he hated the night. It brought him pain, sadness, anxiety, paranoia. He had to constantly look over his shoulder, and Keith would never forget how fast the merman swam away the first time.

He felt such an overwhelming ache that his hands fell angrily on the shark-like creature, wiping him off the sand and not leaving a single trace. He wished he could do that. Get down under the sea himself and tear him apart, with somehow god-like strength. It was just a fantasy, a spur of the moment kind of anger. He huffed, crossing his arms and looking seriously pissed. He wasn't even pretending or exaggerating, he was truly absolutely angry. He didn't want anything to hurt Shiro anymore, and he tended to be fiercely protective over those he cared about.

But unfortunately. He lacked a tail and the ability to breathe under water. All he could really do was seethe from the shore, and hope Shiro would be alright. Gently, he took Shiro's hands in his own, initial fear dissipating away completely and replaced by trust. He gave his hands a small squeeze, a silent plea for him to be careful, that he hoped to see him again when that time came. To further address his will to protect Shiro as much as he could, he backed away and drew himself then Shiro injured. As much as he could with sand, he attempted to put bandages on the wounds that almost looked similar to the real bandage Shiro had on his shoulder now. He looked up at him, attempting a soft smile. But Keith knew the relaxation he felt from before was far gone.

Now there was worry. Fear. Of losing his only friend.

Shiro felt Keith's hand and sparks flew up his arms sharply. It was like an electric eel's sting each time they touched and it make Shiro's heart race. He squeezed Keith's hand back, stroking along the top of his palm with his thumb and then fell into Keith's eyes, watching them silently reassure him. He wished he could speak to him, wished he could communicate with more than drawings because he wanted to tell him just how much his gestures meant. He wanted to say how much he missed having something to return to and how he would fight to keep that. He tore his eyes away to watch Keith draw and his heart raced, seeing that Keith held the same sentiment.

He saw Keith draw bandages and he stroked over the one covering his arm. He leaned his head against Keith's shoulder and closed his eyes. From the drawings, Shiro could sense the sadness in Keith, that he didn't want to have to help him, but that he would, because neither of them had a choice. In that moment he felt safe and he wanted to thank Keith. He wanted to tell him what this made him feel, to have something - someone to return to that would care for him meant so much to Shiro. He would fight for his life for Keith and get back to him, because he was the only sense of safety that he had. Shiro buried his head into the crook of Keith's neck and breathed in slowly. Keith's smell was wild and warm. He wouldn't forget it. It surrounded him with a feeling of calm security and he promised himself that he would come back to it.

He breathed slowly and concentrated, using his telepathy carefully, "Keith.. I will come back to you.. I promise. You are my safety. I will come back for you."

Keith soon felt the head laid on his shoulder, the black and white hair a lot closer to his face that it tickled his cheeks. He would have looked at the situation with humor, if he wasn't feeling so down. He knew him for merely two days, but already, he felt like he latched onto him. Maybe it was his need for company, maybe he was just simply charmed by this man who, without even knowing it, is helping him a lot more than he thinks he is.

He sighed, his eyes turning slightly glassy as he wrapped an arm around his shoulder, holding him closer to silently soothe him. He could feel warmth and a foreign skin against his body that felt like eating a favorite meal after years of having not tasted it. He missed this. Having someone to speak with, connect with. Make him feel human, like he still lived.

And if Shiro left? Well, he'll go back to being the way he was. Or maybe he'll go somewhere else, somewhere far away from oceans and beaches and shells. But Shiro was here, he reminded himself, still here and still holding him. Keith promised himself nothing would tear that away, even if death seemed to be looming over them like a guardian angel. He will always keep Shiro here, alive and breathing. As many times as it takes. Only he wished he could tell him those words.

But then he heard Shiro's words fill his mind, and he swallowed, letting his soothing voice calm his shot nerves. He wished he had that same power, and as acknowledgement to his words, the human gently began to stroke his hair. He tried again - harder this time - to speak telepathically, like he had that sort of ability, until a sentence willed itself through in the spur of the moment. He wasn't sure if it even reached the merman's mind. Only his reaction would tell. When it came to Keith, his eyes widened and he reeled back, looking in surprise at the merman.

"And I'll be here to take care of you, as many times as it takes."

Shiro felt Keith’s arms around his shoulders and he felt safe, secure. He felt cloaked in a dream of sorts, one where only he and Keith existed and this feeling of excitement within him filled the air around them. It was so strange, he thought, that a stranger to him like Keith was had become such a prominent thought in his mind. Keith had been on his mind constantly since the merman had first set eyes on him and he couldn’t help but continue to think about him.

A gentle niggling played at the back of his mind, thinking about the arena fight he would have. He knew that it would be dangerous and he knew that he risked losing everything. He wondered how Keith really felt. From what he could feel, Keith was seething beside him. A sense of rage filled the man and Shiro held a small piece of hope to that. Hope that this sense of attachment was returned to him and it made him smile.

When Keith’s voice made sense again in his head, he pulled back away from Keith, staring at him. It happened again. He heard Keith’s voice clearly and understood it as though he were speaking the merfolk’s language. Shiro looked back at the necklace around Keith’s neck and frowned. He gently lifted it and carefully ran his thumb over them, then closed his eyes and concentrated, “I hear you.. who gave this to you? Where are they now?” Using this method of communication was starting to give him a headache. He wasn’t well-practised in it and it didn’t come naturally to him, but hearing Keith’s voice in his head raised so many questions.

He didn’t know any other species that could speak like this. Whales were the closest, with their sounds that only they could hear and pick up but nothing like this. Nothing as clear and strong as this. That was reserved only for sirens and merfolk. He wondered whether the person that had given Keith the necklace was related to the merfolk or had knowledge about communication between the two species that Shiro could use to learn to speak with Keith. He had to know.

Once he, again, heard the voice of Shiro in his mind, perfectly understanding him Keith returned to being purely freaked out at the situation. He had no idea what to do, say, how to even act at this point, so he sat there in temporary shock. He gulped a bit, trying to communicate with him again, but it didn't come to him. This ability, it seemed to depend purely on how he felt. Whatever intense emotions washed over him, he'd be able to speak to the merman.

But obviously, even the creature was trying his hardest to speak telepathically. So, Keith shrugged once he regained the least bit of his composure, trying to draw something new on the sand. With his best capabilities, he drew his face. Angry, and Shiro's face right beside it. He drew rays leaving his mind and heading over to Shiro's. Then another drawing where he was grinning and genuinely happy, and rays once again left his head. One last drawing where his face was neutral, and he drew rays but crossed them out with a large 'X'.

He wasn't even sure if he would understand, or if the human himself could understand properly, but there was no solid way of knowing. He brushed raven hair out of his eyes as he leaned back, looking intensely and carefully onto the eyes of the creature, hoping he could help him make sense of what was going on.

When Keith ignored the question, looking freaked out, Shiro dropped the necklace and held out his hands, trying to reassure Keith that he wasn't angry or trying to hurt him. It was another moment before he realised that Keith was trying to speak with him telepathically. It wasn't working this time and Keith's face furrowed into a frown. Shiro watched him drawing intensely and frowned, trying to understand.

He smiled lightly at his depiction of the 'mind waves' coming from Keith's head to Shiro's in the drawings and linked the emotions instantly. Shiro nodded. When he had been starting to learn the same thing had happened to him. His emotions had controlled everything. He nodded and tapped his chest, 'Me too.' He pointed to the waves that were managing to get across the two people in the drawings and pointed to himself, then squeezed his eyes shut and held his head, like he was really concentrating. For him now, it was purely concentration. If he worked hard, he could talk telepathically, but if he didn't work hard enough the link wasn't established. He then pointed to the big cross that Keith had drawn and pointed to himself again, then yawned dramatically before shaking his head and pointing again to the links that Keith had drawn. When Shiro was tired, he struggled to make the link.

He drew a mermaid, a normal one, and drew the lines like Keith, then crossed them out. He then drew a smaller, but more whispy looking mermaid - a siren - and drew lots of lines from it's head. Finally, he pointed to the mermaid and made the concentration face. He pointed to the siren and made a complacent face, then waved his hand around to show that they were able to do it whenever they liked. It all depended on whether or not Keith knew about sirens, but he hoped it shed a little light on the matter.

Keith focused intently at the communication that was being delivered to him, only cocking his head slightly to the right, watching him then looking down at the sand drawing when needed. He thought he understood what he was told; Shiro, the merman himself, found trouble with this communication. He couldn't form the link when tired, and compared to a slightly similar species, he could barely even communicate to begin with. He did wonder about that other species, though, and he leaned forward more closely to stare.

He rested his chin in his palm, head tilted until he took a wild guess and supposed that this was the kind of mer that were in legends in the past, luring seamen to their deaths. But with that thought, the necklace and his ability to speak at random times telepathically, there was but one explanation. Keith was related to sirens, or at least merpeople like Shiro. When the words came to his mind, it didn't pain him, but the idea of getting them to leave his mind was a chore.

With a look of disbelief on his face, Keith reeled back a bit, before he slowly pointed at the siren and at himself, then at the mermaid and at himself, giving a shrug like he was ridiculing his own theory. He was unsure who he was at this point, but he really really couldn't be a sea creature. Where was his tail? Why was he so scared of the water if he was a sea creature? So many things didn't add up, and Keith took hold of his necklace for some balance, fingers trailing from one shell to the other.

Shiro watched Keith and felt a jolt of excitement within him. This new method of explanation was really working and they were able to communicate so much more clearly. He was getting through to Keith and his original thought that Keith was related to merfolk had hit the man too. Shiro watched him shrug off the idea and then gently placed a hand on Keith's arm, both reassuring him and getting his attention. Shiro pointed to the necklace again and quickly drew a pregnant belly on the mermaid he had drawn earlier. He poked a string of dots around her neck, then pointed from it to Keith's necklace. He was almost certain that this kind of necklace and those kinds of shells came from a mother. Perhaps Keith's mother was a mermaid, or she had cared for him for a while when she was a baby. Shiro wished he had the words or the mental strength to explain to Keith, but draw away he did.

He drew what he imagined a baby man might look like. Tiny arms and legs, with a few hairs on top. He drew it crying, then a very quick dead man lying down. He then drew the sea below the baby and drew a mermaid holding out her arms towards the baby. His drawings were getting more crude in his excitement to communicate the idea. But perhaps Keith had been looked after by a mermaid and that explained the necklace. He pointed to Keith, then drew Keith's hair on the baby, which in any other circumstances would have looked hilarious, but he looked eagerly to Keith. He pointed to the dead man in the drawing, then looked at Keith questioningly. Did Keith's parents die? Or did they leave him? If they had, his drawing theory could make sense. If not, they were back wondering why Keith had such a necklace in the first place.

Keith tried his best to make sense of the drawings on the sand now, but slowly they were starting to lose meaning. The man understood right until the part where the mermaid came up to take care of the baby, and that's when he lost it. He held a hand out to the merman, trying to tell him to calm down. He shook his head, knowing for a fact that this wasn't how his life was. He only lost his father a few years ago, not since he was a baby. So, he decided to try clearing this out. He drew himself, a version of him not as old as he is now but not as young as since he was a just a small baby. He held someone's hand and, in a moment of hesitation since the memory hurt him, he drew his best imitation of his father.

He had his hair, almost the same eyes, and he wore his usual outfit. A jacket with a shirt and trousers underneath. He held Keith's small hand back, but then soon this man withered away. Keith brushed him off sadly, and brought small Keith's hand to his body, putting a frown on his face. Then he drew an arrow of him now, occasionally cared for by a stronger man, Kollivan. He stressed on the fact that, although he had someone there for him, he felt completely alone by drawing a circle around his figure.

Then, silently, he pointed at the pregnant mermaid, and shrugged. He didn't know how his mother looked. But he could hear her sometimes. He drew some waves leaving her mouth, then continued them by his ear. It was the one thing he was sure about regarding his mother; her voice and what she was trying to communicate to him. He wondered if Shiro could understand most of his in detail drawings since they were still drawing on sand, and the moonlight was dim. There was no other way to talk to this merman.. yet.

Shiro watched Keith drawing and leaned closer to the drawings. He sensed that Keith was becoming more and more sad and distant as he drew and Shiro began to realise why. He had been so insensitive. He had been so excited about the idea that he hadn't thought about the real consequences of what he had been implying. And what he had implied was, in part, true - Keith's father had died. He shrank back from the drawings. He knew the feeling of loss very well, he recognised that loneliness that Keith was feeling. He wanted to tell him that he understood and begin to explain why but he could only take Keith's hand and squeeze it tightly. "Keiys.." he murmured softly, wanting to tell him that he wouldn't be lonely, that he would be there for him and that he would help him through it all. He could only hope that his eyes and his touch told him so.

Shiro turned slowly from Keith, hearing a sharp song on the wind. He recognised the call of Zarkon's men and slowly his face fell. His heart sank and he gripped tighter onto Keith's hands. He had to go, leave this poor broken soul behind him to wait and wonder. Shiro was terribly afraid. He didn't want to lose and he didn't want to leave Keith. He felt an instinctive duty to protect him, to look over him and make him smile. He needed to make it back to him so that he could. Shiro looked to Keith again, this time, his eyes were pained. He gripped Keith's hand tightly and gestured to the sea, telling him that he needed to go, even if he really didn't want to.

Keith's eyes shot up again at the merman once he took his hands, relief washing over him when he realized he understood him. His heart felt a little lighter. He found himself longing for more of this comfort, this feeling of having someone accompanying him. It was a feeling he wasn't used to having, being so fiercely self-independent, but when he actually felt it for Shiro, it felt right. True. Like Shiro wasn't going to let him down.

But speaking of that feeling, he soon felt a more urgent tug at his hands. More pained eyes, and the realization hit him. No. No, not so soon. The raven-haired man wasn't prepared for this sudden wave of fear, like he was scared a part of him would wither away with time. He wanted to hold the merman, try to convince him to stay, but they both know that was impossible. The stronger merman was calling for Shiro, and there would be consequences if he didn't go. Even worse consequences.

Shiro's tail was irreparable, and the wound that Keith just recently took care of would be replaced by three more. Nothing would change, Shiro would just get hurt over and over again, and the human would be powerless to do anything. Just wait around and take care of the merman whenever he could come back to him. If he ever did come back to him. He had absolutely no way of knowing. Eyes glassy and wide, Keith slowly shaking his head like he was denying the reality of the situation, before he slowly wrapped his arms around the merman, pulling him into a hug. A silent goodbye.

He was scared. For him. The intensity of his fear caused him to strongly tug at some of the merman's hair, a hug filled with pain and anguish. Once he pulled away, it was only to put a hand under Shiro's and bring it up to his lips, mirroring the gesture from the night before. Gently and fleetingly, he kissed his knuckles, hand shaking. Please don't let me lose him.

Shiro felt Keith's warmth envelop him and he gripped onto him tightly. He breathed in deeply, inhaling Keith's scent so that he might have a chance of remembering it in those cold, black waters. He felt Keith's warm hands on his back and he held him tighter, gripping and squeezing his shirt. This warmth, this feeling against his skin was so foreign yet something he knew so fondly and now he had to let it go. He felt Keith pull away and almost pulled him back so he could hold on for a little longer. He felt Keith's lips against his hand and he felt his chest quiver, like he might cry.

Shiro lifted his other hand and he brushed the hair from Keith's face slowly, then tipped his chin up gently. He set a determined look into his eyes and looked firmly into Keith's. I will return to you. he promised, using his thumb to stroke along Keith's soft skin. He would dream of those purple eyes and the soft skin surrounding them each day until he returned to see them in person. He would make sure that he got back to see them.

He stroked Keith's cheek softly one last time, before he slowly pulled his hand away and began dragging his long, heavy tail back towards the sea. He felt felt the cold water against his fingertips and the water hummed with what felt like tiny voices whispering and passing along a message to him. He shivered before pressing on and pulling himself further into the water. He dipped under the water when it reached his elbows and let his tail flick to push him around to face the beach again. Once more he set his eyes firmly on Keith. He would come back, he knew he would. He had to. He searched quickly, before an idea clicked in his head. He unwrapped his bag from his tail and left it in the shallow waters for Keith. He stood it upright, so that he wouldn't need to touch the water to take it. He looked back to Keith, willing him to understand the gesture; keep it safe for me.

Shiro had never taken anything precious to the arenas, he hadn't dared to. He didn't want to risk losing anything precious, or have it fall into the hands of dealers and traders should he ever lose. He had always hidden his belongings before leaving for a fight. Now he had the best place of all to hide it and the best reason of all to come back for it; so he would see Keith again.

Keith could feel the hand coming up to stroke his cheek and he shut his eyes tightly, tighter than he expected he would, and touched it right back. He was scared he'd never feel that rough sandpaper-like skin under his fingertips again. And so, when the merman looked into his eyes he could sense the determination, and he hoped he would be able to withstand the pain. If not for Keith, then for his own sake. Soon the creature moved away to enter the water, and the man took a deep breath and silently watched him as he swam further and further away, stopping to look back at him.

He knew he would always remember this moment. Seeing Shiro from the shore, moonlight falling over him and lighting up his figure in the otherwise dark, black waters. He could only imagine how dark it must be down there, and he realized perhaps he too would have feared the night if he had to venture in endless loneliness, only soothed on the way by memories and a practiced ability to not think about the impending doom that awaited him. It must have been such a horrible life.

The bag soon floated over to him, guided by an almost magical current, and he immediately grabbed it. He was lost in it for a moment as the water slowly dripped off of it, cold and smelling like salt. He wondered how many adventures this bag has seen, and he knew Shiro left it with him for safekeeping. He trusted him, and Keith trusted him right back, hugging it a little to his chest as he gave a wave. It wasn't as happy as the wave from the night before; it was sad, fearful, anticipating. He believed in the merman, but worry could never leave his mind.

It was final. He was sleeping on the dock tonight. Shiro might have stopped him last night, but he won't now. He didn't care if he ended up sick. With a sense of finality, Keith waited until the merman disappeared before he ran up to the shack, gathering a pillow and his blanket, stubbornly deciding that sleeping on wood would be much better than sleeping up on his own in the shack, away from whatever happened in the sea. Besides, Shiro could come back, and - once he returned to the dock - he plopped his head down on the pillow and covered himself with the blanket, holding the bag to his chest as he watched the sea.

He was barely going to get sleep, but at least he had a reason to be so close to the sea now.

Shiro left the cove feeling like a millstone was tied around his neck. It seemed that even the currents were trying to persuade him to stay with Keith but here under the water he could feel it. He could sense the dark presence that was Zarkon and his men. Their darkness projected out into the ocean and spread like a dark oil spill, ready to consume all that it came into contact with. He pushed on.

If it was dawn or dusk by the time he reached the trenches, he couldn't know. The light down here was crude at best and only bio luminescent creatures lit the path to the arenas. Not that Shiro needed them. He had been coming and going for long enough now that he knew the way without the creatures lighting it for him. All Shiro knew was that he had slept twice during his time getting to the arena. He must have been swimming for at least two days now.

He followed the path grimly. As always, he went in silence, only acknowledging those around him with brief eye contact, before moving away and setting his eyes on the floor. He had learned painfully that poorly-timed eye contact was a good way to get him into trouble and he needed all of his strength. Some time ago, the lovingly wrapped bandages around his shoulder had been pulled away by the currents and his raw skin was exposed. Thankfully, whatever Keith had used to help it heal had worked some kind of magic and he couldn't feel any pain there anymore, but he suspected that this was also due to the early onset adrenaline that was working its way through his body.

Shiro felt tense as he made his way to the circular arena that he would fight in. The water around him was filled with cheers, clicks and shrieks as the merfolk and Zarkon's creatures roared in their entertainment. It was overwhelmingly loud. He did his best to focus forward, be patient and think of Keith, but the noise cut through threateningly. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest and a new sense of panic setting in. He had only ever needed to survive before, he had never needed to win. Keith's face, his eyes, the touch of his skin were things that Shiro longed for and he wanted to feel them again. To do that he needed to focus and he needed to win.

It wasn't long before his name was called and he was thrust from his meditative headspace and into the throng of jeering onlookers. He gripped his fists together and swam out onto the raised platform. Ahead of him, he saw his opponent. The creature was massive - muscles bulging underneath his rough sandpaper-like skin. His eyes raged war with Shiro and his fists held claws longer than the nose of a swordfish. Shiro took a moment to calm himself and assess this opponent quickly. He was big and strong with ridiculously oversized claws. He would be slow and clumsy, relying on his arms to attack. Shiro glanced at his tail - short and flat, made to enhance the force and of the swings he would bring. Shiro could dodge them easily. He was fast and agile. He was also lean and long, he could dart in between the blows and that was what he intended to do.

Sure enough, the creature swung his great claws at Shiro and Shiro swam to dodge them. He darted up and brought his tail down across the back of the thing's head. His plastic tail gave an almighty thwack as it collided with it's skull and it fell forwards, stunned and confused. Broad and stupid... Shiro thought, Perfect.

Ages.

It felt like ages since Matt last saw his parents, saw Katie. And what felt like the millionth time of fighting for his life was only the fifth time over the course of a year when he heard Zarkon call for him with the waves and the quiet whispers that the water carried. He couldn't go back to his family when such a dangerous aura surrounded him, he wanted them to forget about him in case he lost his grip on reality in the arena. He wanted to either survive or win in silence, and now felt like the right time to get his head in the damn game.

He found himself standing in front of the platform in front of a line of quivering mermen and mermaids who - without a doubt - were thinking of friends. Of family. If they didn't have any of that, they remembered the way the sun shone against the water in the mornings, the way the crabs would quickly dig under the sand whenever the sun set. The way seashells felt against fingertips; cold yet warm and familiar. Such simple moments that somehow made life worth living if someone had enough patience to watch.

But sadly, the arena had nothing like this. Nothing like his sister's excited tone whenever she discovers a new trinket, his father's laugh or his mother's hugs. It was pain after pain after pain. Endless cycles of 'survival of the fittest'. Here there was a lucky win or a gruesome death. And seeing Shiro, the one person who spared him a no doubt painful injury, only made him fear more. Shiro was considered the strongest out of the bunch obviously by the way his muscles looked, but Matt knew that they both needed to leave. Needed to escape. And he wanted to help him, just as much as he helped him that fated day.

He watched as he flicked his tail across the back of the other thing's head and sent him flying down, mindlessly hitting rock bottom. He wanted to quietly cheer, spur him on to win, but he tried before and it got him with a scar across his back. He watched, endlessly careful with how he looked and acted, but he still watched.

You can do it, Shiro. You can make it.
He sent - with difficulty - through telepathy. He hoped it wouldn't break his focus, that it would just make him feel stronger.

Shiro’s head was focused, broken only by brief flashes of cheering and roaring around him. He was strong and he won almost all of his fights. The crowd loves to hate him and their jeers were a form of their delight to watch him take on creature after creature. He kept this quietly at the back of his head as he assessed this hulking giant of a creature pushing itself up from the rocks he had fallen into.

For a brief moment, he heard a voice in his head. He recognised it and he looked to the sidelines. He searched for a moment before his eyes locked into Matt’s wide golden eyes. His heart lurched and his stomach dropped. He couldn’t stop, he wouldn’t stop now. He had to at least damage everything that came his way because Matt couldn’t take on these creatures himself.

Matt was a tactician, he fought effectively by defending himself endlessly until the enemy wore themselves out. For a while, this had fascinated Shiro until the day Zarkon changed the game. He brought in his biggest and bulkiest monsters from the depths to face Matt and the other poor creatures that he had summoned. Shiro had seen the panic setting into the eyes of the mermaids and he had locked into Matt’s eyes. Within them he saw the child that Matt really was, the boy shivering in front of a beast. Shiro had earned his reputation that day as he shoved Matt out of the way, deliberately injuring him to disqualify him from the fight. He roared in feigned bloodthirst and took on all of the enemies that Zarkon threw at him that day. He had lost his tail in that fight, but it was worth it to know that Matt was safe.

Once again his determination set in and he finished the creature in front of him with a hard blow to the head. It didn’t get up again. Shiro faced the next creature in line darkly and sneered at it, puffing out his chest to pretend that he wasn’t scared. He was met by jeers and roars as usual and he took on the next creature.

They kept coming. Shiro fought them, creature after creature he fought to survive. Fists, tail, teeth, he used them all. His vision was blurring and his gills screamed as they worked. He couldn’t stop though. He couldn’t stop until Matt and the others were safe.

Matt could see it. Enemy after enemy, he watched as the familiar merman fought with every ounce of his might. They were all strong, too strong, but Shiro was stronger. But even that had limits. He shouldn't have expected the merman to fight like a powerful, unbeatable king, but apparently all of the quivering merfolk behind him considered him to be just that. Matt was sick of it; he could only imagine the kind of responsibility he was willing to take to protect himself and everyone, but nobody was around to help. He had to take up that burden all by himself, and Matt couldn't bear to just watch in silence.

He was slowing down, and his gills were straining to support his breathing. He was going to soon collapse and it'd be a signified loss, and the merman didn't want to think about the consequences of Shiro losing. So, with the jeers and cries of the crowd turning into forced white noise, the younger merman placed himself in a focused mindset and tried to make a decision. Shiro either gets disqualified - if that even was a thing as Zarkon sometimes sadistically joked about it - or Matt takes the situation into his own hands. The other merman did this for him before; spared him the pain and fear and burdened himself with it. The golden-eyed merman always wished he could be this brave.

But he didn't need to wish anymore. Now he could act.

He swam forward, immediately hearing the gasp of a concerned mermaid who no doubt would try to convince him against moving into the arena, but he did. It was by his own decision, and Zarkon wouldn't care as long as someone fought and got hurt. He knew he wouldn't be able to just hide behind a dodge or by protecting his face from fists, claws and teeth. He had to get his hands dirty, and he also needed to focus. Be careful. Try to limit his injuries even with such strong opponents, and instead inflict pain. He wasn't ready, wasn't powerful, but he knew he had to try. Walk out of it alive.

"Hey!" His voice uncharacteristically boomed through the arena amidst his adrenaline, the jeers suddenly quieting in confusion which turned into anticipation. They seemed to remember him from last time, scowling at him and mocking him for his immense fear. He looked at all of them before he approached the arena, filled with dread, and stood between Shiro and his opponent, who looked scaly and deformed to no end, but still had something akin to human expressions on his face. "Can you hear them? Mock me and belittle me for simply fearing for my life? I'm not having that anymore! Enough of all of you. I'm going to prove you wrong!" He yelled, turning firmly to face Shiro.

"Including you!"
But his thoughts said something else.
I'm sorry.

He sent him the message before he harshly slammed him in the chest with his tail, dropping him out of the arena. He hoped he'd be taken away with the state he was in, far away. Then he turned to the opponent in question, straightening up.

"This is my fight, so you fight me. Let's do this."

Shadows, lights, noises. Breathe. Just breathe it will be okay.
Everything ached, his muscles screamed at him and he could feel the fresh sting of the new cuts all over him. He barely had time to register his opponent when he heard the crowd suddenly start screaming and cheering. He looked at them first before he laid eyes on their new means of entertainment. Matt.

Shiro heard him roar at the crowds and his instinct to protect the boy kicked in. He moved towards him then stopped in his tracks, hearing him direct the anger at Shiro but seeing the true meaning in his eyes, “No-“ he started to say before Matt threw him aside with the force of his tail. Shiro hit the ground hard and he lay there, stunned for a moment before he could begin to process what had happened.

Matt’s opponent was grisly and unreasonably large. His hands , chest and tail were massive and muscles rippled when he moved. Seeing Matt take on the reigning hero impresses him enough to switch his focus to the boy. He grinned with his uneven teeth that stuck up in all directions, then pounced. He wasn’t as slow as the others had been and his movements were calculated. He swiped at Matt’s chest, showing his thick black claws as they collided with Matt’s skin.

With Shiro out of the way, Matt felt relieved to have the arena for himself as he began to hear the familiar bustle of paramedics coming in to take away the fallen merman. Good, now he could hurt the opponent and still attempt to keep himself alive in the process. He quickly studied his opponent, and through the thoroughly crooked grin, he realized this was an opponent that would have easily taken Shiro on in just a short moment of weakness from his part. Except, Matt felt ready to take him on.

Soon, though, he felt claws against his skin, penetrating him in a way that was equally painful and frustrating. He yelled out in pain before he too bared the claws he thought he would never find himself using, and lunged at what he analyzed to be the weakest spot in the opponent; the area of his neck. While he was calculating, Matt was just as calculating but he wasted less time doing so. His claws bared - paining him because of how little he used them (he wasn't proud of having them) - and he dug into the creature's skin, watching as a liquid he could only guess was blood seeped out of the wound.

Meanwhile, two mermaids came to carry Shiro out of the arena, over to where most merfolk went for emergency injuries. It was a small, faraway cove where mer of all kinds and ages bustled around, almost like a hospital. He was placed on one of the comfortable beds there, hidden away from the rest of the mer until someone more professional would come to heal his wounds as best as merfolk were able.

Shiro’s dazed world started moving in all sorts of new motions. He was struggling to breath and he felt a searing pain working it’s way down his chest and side. The lights and sounds around him got darker then light again and the noises were busier and less harsh. He felt himself being lifted and he felt a squashy bed beneath him. He didn’t know where he was.

He saw Matt’s face in his mind’s eye and called out for him, suddenly recalling the kid’s actions in the ring. He pushed himself up from the bed, needing to help him. That place would kill him! “Matt!” He shouted, pushing himself from the bed frantically.

Meanwhile the creature was roaring, having clearly expected to kill the small mer boy in front of him with that one blow. The boy still stood and the water around them was turning a murky brown as their two types of blood mingled together. He took a stroke back before darting towards Matt’s tail with his teeth bared. He would tear the boy apart piece by piece!