Harada didn’t back down. He leaned farther back, defying gravity, his body tilting past the point of balance. At that angle, he should’ve fallen onto the deck, but the sheer force of the fish held him upright. With a violent dive, the tuna plunged back into the water, dragging Harada to the keel.
Suzuki gasped, letting go of the wheel as he bolted from the cockpit. He stumbled down the stairs to the deck, barely keeping his footing. Before he could steady himself, the fish yanked hard to the right, whipping the boat around. Harada slid across the slick deck and slammed into the starboard side with a heavy thud.
“Let go of the pole!” Suzuki shouted. Harada didn’t flinch. His grip was unrelenting, his eyes burning with determination.
Suzuki fought to stay upright as the boat pitched violently. He had to reach Harada. The only thing keeping Harada on deck was the gunwale, barely high enough to brace him. Could Suzuki get to him in time?
He was just steps from grabbing Harada when the tuna jerked hard again. This time, the gunwale couldn’t save him. Suzuki’s fingers brushed against Harada’s jacket, but it slipped through his grasp. In an instant, Harada was yanked overboard.
“Ren!” Suzuki shouted, slamming into the gunwale. He leaned over, scanning the water. Harada’s bright-yellow jacket glowed like a beacon in the blue-gray depths, just feet below the surface.
“Let go!” Suzuki’s voice cracked in desperation.
For a moment, it seemed like Harada might surface. Then, in a flash, the beast dove. Harada’s yellow slicker shrank to a pinpoint before vanishing into the abyss.
“Ren!” Suzuki screamed, his hand outstretched over the water, ready to pull his friend back the moment he surfaced. But the seconds dragged on, each one heavier than the last until Suzuki’s hope sank like a stone.
He collapsed to his knees against the gunwale, staring into the empty water. “You mad old fool,” he said, his voice breaking. “Why couldn’t you let it go?”
But the answer was clear. It wasn’t the tuna that had won. It was Harada’s pride.
CHAPTER ONE
AKIKO ONO
It had been years since the gorira maguro dragged Ren Harada off his boat and into the depths, his body never recovered. All that remained of his existence was a cracked black plastic frame in the fish market, which held his fading photograph.
To most, he would always be the old man with wild tales about a mythical tuna. To me, he was Oji-chan, the funny uncle who made me laugh with his magic tricks. He never tired of pulling seashells out of my ears, even long after I was old enough to know how the trick worked.
Back then, he helped me get through some tough times—my father had disappeared when I was eleven years old.
No one, not even my mother, knew what had happened to my father. The authorities claimed he’d run off, even that he committed suicide, but I never believed that. He loved me with all his heart. Why would he leave me? Why would he leaveus? Still, with no trace of him, people eventually assumed he was dead.
Oji-chan used to say dreams were all we had. As I stood there, staring at his picture, I wondered whether that was still true.
“Akiko!”
I spun around at the sound of my name.
“I have the fish you wanted,” the fisherman called from his stall. Yuto was one of the last fishermen at the market who had watched me grow from a young girl into an adult.
My eyes widened when I saw what he was holding. “I can’t believe you caught a butterfish.” I absolutely loved this fatty fish. Its oily meat had a smooth, velvety texture that practically melted on the tongue.
“You gave me a challenge,” he declared proudly as I headed over to him.
Not only had Yuto been around when my father disappeared; he was also there when my mother passed. She hadn’t lasted much longer after my father’s disappearance. The weight of grief was too much, crushing her and leaving me to figure out life on my own.
And I did.
Now, I was a responsible adult with a job and a roof over my head. Sure, working in a restaurant had little to do with my degree, but I knew myself. Sitting in an office all day wasn’t for me.
Yuto slipped the fish into a bag for me.
“Thank you so much. It’s the perfect size.”
“What will you be making?” he asked, handing me the bag.
“Butterfish nigiri.” I was already envisioning the delicate slices atop perfectly vinegared rice.
