• • •

But shoving his problems to the side caused the anxiety from them to grow and grow, ultimately driving Marcos to the ocean.

Diving into the ebbing waters is like submerging in to tangible peace, the brushing of the waters and bubbles washing his worries away. Marcos allows himself to be suspended in the middle of the dark waters with the support of his tail, his eyes closed as he draws in soothing breaths of water.

Cool.

Still.

Silence.

Peace.

He can do this. He can survive for another day in this chaos caused by the news of the Tail.

Marcos blinks open his eyes, spotting a school of fish crossing the wavering ribbons of moonlight.

Marcos...

Only if he can truly be as carefree as the fish, swimming out into the vast, yet welcoming unknown.

Marcos...

The urge to leave behind his responsibilities on land creeps within him, his tail twitching. His heart thumps, being torn between land and sea, before his tail propels him to zip through the waters.

The motion, the speed, the waters are the tangible embodiment of freedom gliding over him. His thoughts become lost in the streaking scenery of dark waters and sea life, giving him relief from overthinking. With no effort, he senses himself becoming one with the ocean, navigating seamlessly through it, coexisting with the sea life, riding with its current—

Instantly, Marcos slams into a hard, smooth surface. He grimaces while drifting away, rubbing his head. He then lowers his hand and peers up to become face to face with the hull of a fishing boat. His heart jumps out of his throat in alarm, causing him to whirl around and blast away from it—only to hit the side of a net.

Panic rises within him as he pulls his hands out from the net's holes and bolts up in hopes of swimming over it. Yet the net runs past the moonlit surface, prompting him to dive down to its bottom. Marcos grabs the bottom of the rushing net and exerts his strength in hopes of tearing it apart. The net's material is thick, tough, and coarse, pushing Marcos closer and closer to the surface. Marcos's breathing goes faster, his heart is pounding, his hands are fumbling, and the chilly, salty air instantly strikes his bare back.

He is met with chilling exclamations of shock and excitement from behind, making him freeze. His eyes are glued onto the black, lapping waters through the net before being tossed onto the slick wooden floor of the boat's deck.

Marcos stays still, the net draped over him, his tail splayed out behind him, his shocked mind attempting to process the situation.

"Whaddya know— It is the Travel Time guy!" a scratchy voice calls out from behind Marcos. "Good job."

"I had a feeling..."

The breath is knocked out of Marcos's lungs at the familiarity of the voice. He snaps his eyes up as approaching footsteps sound.

And looming above him is Barry with a pleased smile on his face, hands clasped behind his back as the ocean air whips through his short locks. "...I had a feeling the Tail was you, Marcos."