Ryo struggled to reconcile his new reality with the life he'd left behind. Each moment in the Depths felt like a dream teetering on the edge of nightmare. The bioluminescent creatures that populated the waters were mesmerizing, their glowing bodies casting soft, shifting light on the rocky seafloor. But the ever-present danger of predators lurking in the shadows kept Ryo perpetually on edge.
The early days were the hardest. Ryo had no idea how he was breathing underwater, nor why he didn't feel the crushing weight of the ocean above. His body, while uninjured, felt subtly different, as though it had been altered to survive in this strange environment. His only sustenance came from soft-fruited plants growing in the crevices of rocks, and his rest was stolen in shallow sleep, always wary of the sharp-toothed creatures that prowled nearby.
On what Ryo could only guess was the twelfth day, he found himself wandering a narrow trench. His hunger had driven him to leave the relative safety of a hidden grotto he'd claimed as a temporary refuge. He was carefully harvesting glowing fruit when the shadows around him began to shift. A predator, its sleek body blending seamlessly with the surrounding rocks, emerged from the gloom. Its luminous eyes locked onto Ryo, its serpentine form coiling in preparation for attack.
Ryo's heart pounded as he raised his only weapon—a jagged shard of coral—but he knew it wouldn't be enough. He braced himself for the inevitable strike.
Before the creature could pounce, a figure darted between them with a speed and precision that left Ryo stunned. Moving as though part of the water itself, the figure slashed at the predator with a glowing blade, forcing it to retreat with an angry snarl.
Ryo gaped as his savior turned toward him. The man was lean and wiry, his long hair floating like ink in the current. His eyes were clouded and unseeing, yet he moved with confidence and poise.
"Are you hurt?" the man asked, his voice calm but edged with urgency.
"N-No," Ryo stammered. "Who… who are you?"
"Call me Sol," the man replied. He tilted his head slightly, as though studying Ryo despite his blindness. "You're not from here, are you?"
Ryo hesitated before nodding. "I… I don't even know where 'here' is."
Sol's lips curved into a faint smile, though his expression held a trace of pity. "Come with me. It's not safe to linger."
Sol led Ryo through a winding series of trenches and coral overhangs, navigating the treacherous terrain with ease. Despite his blindness, he moved as though he could see every twist and turn, his footsteps unerring and silent. Ryo followed clumsily, stumbling on uneven ground and startling at every shadow.
They reached a small cavern hidden beneath an overhang of glowing coral. The space was barely large enough for the two of them, but it felt secure. The walls were covered in soft, bioluminescent moss that bathed the area in a soothing blue-green light.
"Rest here," Sol said, gesturing to a patch of smooth rock. "You look like you haven't slept in days."
Ryo collapsed gratefully, the weight of exhaustion pulling him down. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, he allowed himself to let his guard down.
Over the next few days, Ryo came to understand that Sol was more than just a blind man surviving against impossible odds. He was a master of the Depths, his heightened senses allowing him to perceive the underwater world in ways Ryo couldn't begin to fathom.
"How do you do it?" Ryo asked one evening as they sat in the cavern.
Sol smiled faintly. "I don't see the way you do, but I sense. The Depths speak, if you know how to listen. The vibrations of the water, the hum of the creatures, the way energy flows around us—it's all connected. Blindness forced me to understand this world differently, and it's kept me alive."
Ryo was fascinated. Sol's explanation sounded almost mystical, but there was no denying the man's abilities. He moved with the grace of a predator, evading danger and finding resources with uncanny precision.
Sol began teaching Ryo how to survive in the Depths. He showed him how to harvest the glowing flora for food and tools, how to sense the faint vibrations of approaching predators, and how to navigate the labyrinthine terrain without getting hopelessly lost. It wasn't easy—Ryo's surface-dweller instincts often clashed with the new skills he needed to learn—but Sol was patient and encouraging.
"You're overthinking it," Sol said during one training session. "Stop relying on your eyes so much. Let the Depths guide you."
Despite the challenges, Ryo gradually adapted. He began to notice subtle changes in the water, like shifts in temperature and pressure that hinted at hidden dangers. His movements became less clumsy, his senses sharper.
The bond between the two men deepened as they spent more time together. Sol shared snippets of his past, though he was careful never to reveal too much. He spoke of the Depths as though they were alive, a vast and mysterious entity that could be both cruel and nurturing.
Ryo, in turn, shared stories of his life on the surface. He spoke of Tokyo, of the bustling streets and neon lights, of late-night gaming sessions and his fascination with ancient history. Sol listened with quiet curiosity, his expression unreadable.
"Do you think there's a way back?" Ryo asked one night, his voice tinged with both hope and fear.
Sol didn't answer immediately. When he finally spoke, his tone was somber. "If there is, I haven't found it. But I won't stop looking."
Ryo felt a pang of both gratitude and sorrow. He didn't know what had brought him to the Depths or why Sol had chosen to help him, but he knew one thing for certain: he wasn't alone anymore. And in a place as alien and unforgiving as the Depths, that meant everything.