The events of this post take place on the Agora River, in South China (well, not real south China, but you get the idea -- Ngkora is where the orange dot is)

The Reef Diver

There's an old blacktip - Aroko, I call him - that haunts my home reef. I see him now, weaving through the water, snapping at the schools that pass beside him, too slow to catch anything but the smallest fish. One day I'll be like him, unable to feed myself or my family; I hope my offspring take better care of me than his do.

Once he’s distracted, I submerge my face and begin my breathing routine. In the blurry depths below, I see only colour; reds, greens, darting glitters of fish, all softened by the dark blue hues of the water around them. I can feel the sun's heat on my bent-double back, and so with one final breath, I commit. I'm swallowed by the blue.

The beat of my heart matches the swish of my strokes. I descend, equalise, descend, equalise, descend again until I am hovering atop the reef. A cool current ripples across its spine, sending shivers through mine. My heart, however, is stilled by it.

Sunlight dapples across the corals, dancing with the sway of the sargassum. Aside from the sting of salt on my tongue, I feel nothing but calm. Ahead, a parrotfish disturbs the silence. I swim - slowly at first, but faster soon after - the pain catching up with me, burning my body and mind with cowardly thoughts -- when the lungs beg for air, I can only resist for so long.

The parrotfish is unaware of my presence, as I am unaware of what lurks above. Aroko’s shadow drifts over me.

I stay very still - stone still, like the coral - and wait for him to pass over. He isn't after me, but my parrotfish. Anger fills my body, makes my blood boil worse than the breathlessness -- nobody steals my fish.

I aim for the parrotfish, but hit Aroko instead. He flails about, slamming me with his tail before succumbing. There's now a bigger shark than me dead in the water -- simply put, I've bitten off more than I can chew.

It takes the best part of an hour to lift Aroko into my canoe. I sit there for a while - looking into his dead eyes - muscles burning, arm bruised, slurping some chicken congee that Ama made for me. Aroko's on the boat. I feel happiness at the size of the catch, but the elation is tainted by sorrow -- I caught Aroko, my little shark, the one who haunts my home reef. Mlida would be disappointed.

Best not to waste him, then.

As I approach the shore, I'm greeted by familiar faces - feathered and squawking - pecking at my shark's eyes. I'm too tired to fight them; I'm almost too tired to fight the current too, but I do, and so when I reach the beach I say a quick thank you to the All-Mother for making this already-difficult day a little bit easier.

There are children playing there, fighting with each other and climbing coconut palms. I play with them a while, and so they let me take one of their coconuts. A few are intrigued by the shark, but without the strength to haul it ashore I have little fear that it'll be stolen. Refreshed, I set off again.

The paddle to the delta is a short one, flanked on one side by mangroves and beaches, and on the other by the endless azure. I pass a few ships, and their crews whistle down at me and praise me for my catch. I can't help but feel a prickle of fear -- if they wanted Aroko, then all it'd take would be a well-placed spear in the back of my head, much like the one that ended him. Fortunately, they don't cause me any trouble.

I peel away from the ships, taking a shortcut through the mangroves. Gibbons swing in the branches above me, whooping in alarm at the uninvited intruder, keeping their eyes trained on my vessel. There's no sound of waves here, nor smell of the sea -- only crickets and gibbons, and tigers waiting in the bush; the whole forest is painted like one, half-striped with sunlight and shadow. Eventually the forest thins, and the city of Ngkora is revealed.

The Ziggurat towers above the settlement. Originally a mound intended for the worship of Hegēni Gods, in the past century it has found new use as a warehouse and temple to Asor, the All-Mother. An obelisk crowns it, carved in the shape of a climbing rose, whilst at the top is a bronze mask in the image of the Queen’s, being some three metres wide and four metres long. Facing into the sun, her beauty is resplendent -- radiant, almost; it gilds the market below in its glow.

I paddle through the canals and moor to the square, already giddy with apprehension. I send a runner to fetch my fishmonger, Abonatng, and wait as the market moves around me. Dyed awnings stretch above the stones, and so all I can see is colour; reds, greens, darting glitters of bronze, all harshened by the dust thrown up by cattle and pigs alike. Eventually, Abonatng arrives. He and I haul the shark ashore, hang it up, weigh it, before debating what a fair exchange would be. He knows I'm tired, and so doesn't press me too much. He and I both walk away happy.

I rest at the water’s edge -- it's clean, the sewage collected and dispensed elsewhere, but I still feel dirty; Aroko's blood is on my hands, so to speak, and yet my family will eat tonight, and the day after tonight, and for many days after that -- I can't feel guilty for doing my duty, and getting a little something for myself too.

Abonatng’s Ama is one of the best cannabis breeders on the river, and I'll be damned if I can't find a little relaxation after fighting a shark. I cut the hash into pieces, mix it with a little ginger, put it in my pipe and light up. Soon, the day's events slip my mind entirely, and I'm left with only the sunset for company.