Offshore
Episode 15: Jagged Depths
Content warning: This chapter depicts alcohol use.
If you're here for the April Fool's version of this chapter, that is here!
By Tuesday morning, the scratch on the Cloudlander had been buffed out and painted over. The mended yacht greeted the sailors with its mast swaying over the marina water, a mild welcome on a chilly day.
It was time for their last rehearsal. This time, the whole crew was here—Lujang carting her instruments after them, Janda reporting on the other teams’ news, Iki frantically juggling two filographs. When Jinai told Telaki they would be rerunning the Sunken City, she barely seemed surprised.
“Not a big fan of that one,” Iki replied, tapping and scribbling away on their larger device. “Alright, I’ve got a depth map, and…it’s just as much of a mess as always.”
“I know,” Jinai and Telaki said at the same time.
The coach turned to her two protégés. “If you’re so determined, there’s nothing I can do to change that, I imagine.”
“You're correct,” said Jinai, while Anqien adjusted the strap of their attractor glove.
“Do you hear me now? Now?!” Anqien straightened as Lujang's voice shrilled in their earpiece.
“Loud and clear!” they exclaimed.
“Loud and clear.” Jinai nodded.
Sitting atop a bollard, Iki waved the two sailors over and pointed at his screen. He marked out routes with his stylus, then revised them with their counter-suggestions till they were in agreement. At the end of the consultation, Jinai clapped a hand on Anqien's shoulder and softly said, “Ready?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” they replied with more confidence than they felt.
They took their positions on the deck and set the sail, lofted into the bay as the canvas filled with wind. The ropes creaked in the stiff gale, and the winch clattered as Jinai trimmed the sails to catch that current.
Like they had every week for years on end, the pair steered out into the strait and up the channel, weaving among the obstacles where they could.
Again, they pulled into position with the cliffs on either side, looming large though they lay hundreds of yards away. Tacking into a U-turn, they pointed their nose into the strait, into the many-toothed waterway that had torn countless vessels to shreds. The wind at their backs, they began to pick up speed.
Anqien glanced at Jinai. “We ready to run this?”
Her eyes were fixed on the horizon. “Let’s go.”
Even as they watched, the wind was tugging them closer and closer to the fray, and they tuned their tack so that they approached diagonally into the strait.
“Beat to leeward,” Iki's voice now interrupted them. “You don't wanna be running downwind right now.”
Jinai turned to her teammate. “You watch your head,” she said. Nodding, Anqien raised one hand into the air with their attractor glove, and began Weaving the racing yacht out of the water.
Then they were off down the Canlan Strait, on their final run that didn’t count. Beating instead of taking a straight course today, it felt different—they barrelled through eddies, tacked with precision into puffs on the water, and hurtled almost too quickly into the danger zone, where the fragmented remains of a once-thriving town now threatened all who passed.
Following the preplanned route, they took the first diagonal through the troubled waters, spotting obstacles over each other’s shoulders and coordinating the gybes so the yacht dodged, like a tern, around spires and eaves in great swooping swerves.
“Ready to gybe!” Jinai shouted, voice picking up spirit as the wind whistled past. Anqien snapped some Threads so the boat heeled to their right. “Duck!” Jinai shouted, hauling the sail in, only just clearing Anqien’s head. Their risky gybe took them around the steeple with its slowly tolling underwater bell.
Anqien could feel their thrill and terror surging. A rare feeling was dawning over them with each manoeuvre—that they were reading each other seamlessly, acting as a shared conscious—and the boat was the body they inhabited.
Here came the crush of barnacled, coral-coated roofs again, the routes laid out in criss-crossing chaos before them. This time they both took a proper read of the next hundred yards, and Jinai pointed with a shout to the starboard, which Anqien acknowledged with a thumbs-up.
They swung through the wind, left and right, like a leaf carried on the breeze, tacking and Weaving in tandem with such precision that midway, Anqien felt the fear gently give way to the joy of the run. Their hydrofoil zipped around the outcrops, dancing with the rhythmic snap and rejoining of Threads, a kite billowing on ocean breeze, yet somehow never bumping anything, and then within sight of the end…
“Duck! Duck!” Anqien only became aware their focus had slipped when the creak of the mainsail jolted their attention to the hurtling boom.
With the bang of the metal against the side of their head, they stumbled to their knees with a cry and a hand over the impact point. It was three seconds of blinding pain, during which the yacht sped on, but Jinai jammed the mainsheet in the current tack and flew to their side with shouts of “I’m so sorry!”
Anqien lifted themself as she looped her arm around their back and lifted them. “Whoa, that, should not have happened,” they said, watching as Jinai's face crystallised from the flashing of pain, her brow scrunched up in worry.
“Are you good to keep going?” she asked.
“Oh, gods and demons, this route is cursed,” Telaki muttered in their ear.
Anqien nodded slowly. “Yeah, yeah…” they murmured. “If you wanna wake me up, kiss me.”
“Oh come on,” Jinai chuckled, but exasperatedly bowed down to kiss their forehead.
They swung away with a squeak, scrambling back to the helm. Their bruise was throbbing again with the pounding of their heart. “I was just joking,” they laughed.
“You two had better not be doing cute shit on my watch,” Telaki’s voice cut through. “You’ve almost got it—cleared the course in good time. Shame about the boom.”
Both looked up to a clear sea. All the rocks and submerged roofs were behind them, and just the narrowing strait lay ahead, channeling them through to Muli Bay. They re-entered the bay, heaving a breath of relief. Jinai said not a word.
As they sailed in through the last yards, the sky was cracked by lightning and a boom of thunder, and the rain followed not long after. They saw Lujang yelp and cart her equipment out to the closest shade, while they pulled up in their berth and moored, drenched with rain.
In the changing rooms later, the conversation did not start till they had been there for five minutes.
In her stall, Jinai said, “I could have knocked you into the water there. Or knocked you unconscious.”
“What? No, we were gybing on a broad reach, we knew it was risky. And it’s on me, I…kinda…lost track towards the end there. It was just a glancing blow, anyway.”
“Hm…”
“You don’t sound convinced.”
“I’m pissed at myself. I let you get in harm’s way. I could have said something.”
They met outside for the stroll to Konoma’s, an agreement they came to without asking—their steps took them right onto the promenade. By now, Anqien was accustomed to the sea legs that sailing gave them, but the sway of their vision was a little stronger today.
“Did you see how well we handled it this time, though?” they said. “I honestly felt like we were reading each other’s minds at one point.”
“No, you're right, that was…decent.”
“I think we’ve basically got it figured out.” The storefront lights had begun to come on along the street.
Jinai folded her arms. “Still not quite at the point I’d like for our last training day, but my days of feeling ready are over,” she sighed. “We’ll take what we can get.”
At Konoma’s, they picked one of the bar tables near the entrance of the warehouse, sitting side by side on the backless stools. Anqien teased at the corner of the menu, but was too busy reading to turn it. "You going for the usual?" they asked.
Jinai nodded. Masiu had been weaving through the jumble of tables towards them ever since he had spied them at the door. “If it isn't my favourite pair of sailors!” he exclaimed as he arrived, then his voice dropped as he motioned to their right. “Psst, don’t know if you noticed but there’s another pair of NHR finalists here this evening.”
Their eyes flew to the table he had motioned out. It was the North Star team, who had been at the presser with them—one with wild curly hair, the other wearing it in a tight bun, both dressed for jogging.
“Damn, talk about a coincidence.” Jinai glanced at Masiu. “Could I get the spicy beef loaded corn chips? And make it extra spicy. And I’ll get two shots of spiced rum on ice with that.”
“Mhm, mhm, no problem!” Masiu answered in singsong, then turned to Anqien. “And chicken curry noodles?”
“Chicken curry noodles,” they answered with a nod, then cast a look at the drinks menu on the metal stand. “And a glass of the, uh, pink peach punch? Always wanted to try that.”
“Excellent choice! It's one of our signatures.”
Masiu breezed back into the kitchen. They made small talk while the band set up in the background. There was no martial arts on the screen this evening; it was all news, combining with the clink of glasses and the rattle of trays. Expect a few showers. Trawling season is almost upon us.
Their dishes emerged from the kitchen post-haste, with a chirpy “enjoy!” from their waiter. As they worked through their dinner and drinks, Anqien found that the presence of supposed rivals was hard to ignore: the two seemed to have a quiet rapport between them, exchanging bits of their meals and enjoying the shared morsels in tandem.
One of the pair turned at some point during the meal and, catching sight of the Cloudlanders, their jaw dropped, before they whispered something to their companion and pointed in Jinai and Anqien’s direction. The Aorin pair started chattering between themselves, voices radiating excitement. When Jinai started to wave, they gasped and waved eagerly back.
“Aw, they seem nice,” Anqien said, lifting their bowl to slurp the last curry from the bottom.
Jinai smiled. “They’re the ones my parents would support, if I weren’t in the race,” she said. “They see an Aorin person on the screen, and they’re all over them.”
Anqien nodded. “That’s sweet of them, though. I think it’d be cool if my parents followed sailing.”
She snorted. “Typical of them to be that unsupportive. Let me at them, I’ll show them sailing is cool. And a real job.”
They laughed. “They think you’re a bad influence as it is, they’re gonna be sure of it after that.”
Jinai raised an eyebrow. “Am I a bad influence? Showing you the way of the halyard and helm?”
“I was offered a place on your team and instantly dropped out of university,” Anqien said with a shrug. “I think that makes you a criminal in their eyes.”
“Certified criminal by Anqien’s stuffy parents.” She leaned over their shoulder. “Well, the day you bring home that trophy, you’re going to make them eat their words.”
“They’d sooner eat cardboard.”
The two drank and shot the breeze, while the band’s surreal strums and synthesiser wobbles rolled over them. At some point in the evening, Anqien stopped seeing the lights straight. Not long after, they felt Jinai loop an arm about the small of their back.
Her touch set their skin alight with sensation, the way a hot stove scalded. They had touched a thousand time before—all those times they had pulled each other out of the way of a swinging boom or crashed against each other as they had sprinted to heel the yacht. But only now did Anqien notice how it made their heart do flips.
Haven't I always felt this way, though? From the day I joined the team?
Heedless to their shifted attention, Jinai brushed her hair out of her eyes, the floating fairy lights sparkling in them. “It’s nice. Doing this. Hanging out. Almost doesn’t feel like the week of fate is coming up.”
“Why can't every day be like this?” Anqien sighed back. “No responsibilities, just us having a nice dinner together.”
"I don't know, you tell me," Jinai replied, swaying against them with an elbow to their ribs. "Why can't we hang out every evening? Beats sitting alone in my apartment. Staring at the filo screen when I could be staring at you."
Anqien wasn't sure if the heat surging through their face was from the alcohol or her words. But they were too tipsy to think harder. We’re making too much of a habit of this, for people who don’t mean it.
“Hey, you know I'd like nothing more than to see you every day,” they said, propping their chin up on one elbow. “What would you wanna do? Give me some ideas.”
“I don't know, ice-cream coffee on the beach? Camping on Canlan Island?”
"That sounds nice," Anqien replied. “And the Wulien aquariums at some point, maybe? I’ve never seen them.”
She gaped. “You've never been?”
“Nah, my parents always said the tickets cost too much and the aquarium was boring.”
She grabbed their forearm, eyes bright like a shoal of herring flashing in the ocean. "I am so taking you there. This time of year's perfect for that, late spring when the fish are returning from down south."
“Is looking at fish all day really your speed?”
“What does that mean?” Jinai laughed. “I’d watch trees grow, if I were doing it with you.” Then she paused. “Besides, I really liked going to aquariums as a teen. You’re missing out.”
Anqien wanted to do a hundred things right now, but exactly none of them were advisable. All they did was say, “Yeah—let’s do that. After we’re back from the race?”
She nodded. “Anytime.”
They left Konoma’s later that evening, long after the Aorin racers had taken their leave and the musicians had started packing. They prolonged these quiet hours in the only way they could, though eventually the shop had to close at nine and shooed them out among the guttering tealights, locking the doors behind them.
