One Shark, No Swim

1. Kalei Comes Ashore

1

Kalei Comes Ashore

Sashimi

A Japanese delicacy of very fresh and thinly sliced raw fish.

The night Kalei’s Niuhi shark head broke the surface of the large saltwater pool at Piko Point, his thoughts were consumed with sashimi.

Raw ‘ahi tuna glistening like rubies on a bed of green cabbage would definitely hit the spot. He smacked his lips, remembering the taste of shoyu and wasabi hot on his tongue and how the flavor of cheap wooden chopsticks lingered in the back of his throat long after he’d swallowed each morsel.

Can’t forget to chew, he thought. Humans chew.

For Kalei, eating fresh ‘ahi was no big deal, but having someone else catch, clean, and serve it on a platter was once in a blue moon special. When a sashimi craving hit, there was only one place to go: Hari’s in Lauele Town, Hawai‘i.

With the moon as his only witness, Kalei gracefully shifted from Niuhi shark to human form. Blinking salt from his newly human eyes, he pulled oxygen deep into his lungs.

The first human breath burns like smoke from a fire. Gills are so much better.

In the middle of spiting seawater’s tang, he paused.

Blood.

His nose twitched.

He opened his mouth and inhaled again, feeling microscopic flecks trickle past his teeth to coat the insides of his cheeks. There were three different kinds of blood in the air, all centered near Pohaku, and none of them very fresh.

The strongest is fish blood—a deep water fish, not something from the reef. Smells like the best belly part of the fish, not the rubbish head or tail. Not crab bait, then. There’s a hint of banana leaves, too. Someone’s lunch?

He sniffed again.

No whiff of spice or rice. Not even a trace of plastic wrapper. Now why would somebody place a prime slice of raw fish on a banana leaf in front of Pohaku? It’s like—

An offering?

Interesting.

Pohaku was a sacred round ‘aumakua stone that sat guarding the water’s edge at Piko Point. Roughly the size and shape of a basketball, Pohaku was often mistaken for an ancient Hawaiian fishing god leftover from the days when stone and wooden gods dotted beaches and hills, but the truth was much more intriguing. Most days, Pohaku was content to watch surfers on the Nalupuki-side of Piko Point or families splashing at Keikikai beach on the other.

Most days, but not all.

Kalei craned his neck—one of the few advantages to his human form—and searched for the blood’s source. His eyes confirmed what his nose told him: whatever smelled like a chunk of deep water fish on a banana leaf was long gone.

“Who remembered you, Pohaku, but forgot you don’t like fish?”

Pohaku didn’t answer—at least not in words. Pohaku spoke in mental images and emotions—when he condescended to communicate at all.

“Too embarrassed to tell the story? Don’t worry. I know it’s not your fault. Humans are short-lived and stupid.”

Kalei opened his mouth, letting the breeze tickle his tongue. Like a wine connoisseur, he concentrated on each bloods’ distinct note and ignored the flavors of jasmine, seaweed, and hot asphalt.

“I know blood when I smell it, Pohaku. There’s fish and two other kinds of blood here. Why?”

Silence.

“Still not telling? Fine. I’ll figure it out for myself.”

Kalei pulled himself completely out of the water and onto the lava flow. Holding his arms high above his head, he gently pulled on each wrist until the joints in his shoulders, elbows, and wrists popped. Giving his back a twist and bending his knees, he frowned at his missing right toe.

After all these years, I’m still not whole.

In the water, the missing tip of his tail never affected him, but in human form the lack of a big toe threw off his gait. Awkward and clumsy on land, he appeared the very opposite of Niuhi: sleek and lethal. Kalei wiggled his remaining toes and smiled.

Humans are fatally foolish. Even an octopus understands the benefits of camouflage.

Standing firm with both feet on the ground, he felt the lava rock buzz, buzz, buzzing like a beehive. Curious, he drew another lungful of air, hunting for a trace of the second kind of blood.

“Human, older than the fish blood, and it splattered onto you, you naughty ‘aumakua. There are speckles along your side where the tide cannot wash it clean. Is some-wanna-be-chief making old-time human sacrifices? Has someone mistaken you for a war god? Don’t get a swelled head. People these days can’t tell their ‘okoles from their elbows.”

Kalei sighed.

In his mind Kalei felt Pohaku’s slow indignation bubble to the surface as he sent the image of a husky boy falling, then cupping his bloody nose as he hurried to shore.

“Just a clumsy boy with a bloody nose? How sad. Makes me yearn for a wanna-be-chief brave enough to beat his war drums and raise the old gods.”

With the second blood scent fixed in his mind, Kalei inhaled to discover the source of the third.

“There’s a trail of blood drops from where the boy with a bloody nose landed next to you that goes all the way to the beach. Near the pavilion, there’s a faint whiff of his pee that dribbles along the road. Odd. He’s too old for wetting his pants. Feeble-minded, perhaps?”

He clucked his tongue.

“Can you imagine, Pohaku? Humans are so disgusting now; in the old days we never had this problem. The soft-headed were given back to the gods. Everybody’s so sensitive nowadays, it gives me a rash.”

Kalei spun, crushing pipihi and too-slow hermit crabs beneath his heel. From Piko Point, he looked across the dark lava flats towards the lights at Hari’s Grill and Convenience store.

Sashimi and TV soon. With luck, there’s a sumo match on.

But I can’t leave until I know what the blood and excitement bubbling along this lava flow is all about.

He scratched his arm, considering.

“Nice try, Pohaku, but you know as well as I that a kid’s bloody nose from a trip and fall doesn’t leave behind this delicious caffeinated champagne buzz in the reef. This energy is too intense for something that simple. Something big happened here. There’s more to it than you’re telling.”

Kalei opened his mouth and throat wider than a human could and gulped down great gasps of air.

“I taste conflict—a fight? No—there’s real fear here. The boy feared for his life. Who hunts boys, Pohaku?”

Silence.

“I know you know, you old forgotten thing. There’s a third kind of blood here that’s as fresh as the fat boy’s. They’re connected. It’s the memory of the fat boy’s fear that’s pulsing through these rocks, the kind of fear that comes from a predator’s chase. You know I can’t allow that. Not here. Who dares hunt boys in Lauele, Pohaku? Who are you protecting?”

Kalei crawled along the rocks, trying to identify the third blood.

“It would be easier if you just told me, Pohaku. You know I’m going to find out.”

He set his nose against the lava, inhaling bits of seaweed and crab shell, but it was useless; in his human form his senses were too blunted for this kind of delicate detective work.

“I can’t believe you’re making me do this,” he said. “You know how much I hate to change!”

In two strides he dove back into the big saltwater pool. The water boiled, then parted to reveal the tip of a massive Niuhi shark snout. The shark floated over to Pohaku and daintily sniffed.

Kalei erupted out of the water, changing into human form mid-air. Landing, he swung his foot to kick at Pohaku.

“Niuhi!” he yelled. “A young male was hunting here—and he’s definitely male. It’s not Maka or Pua’s blood.”

He wrinkled his nose and closed his eyes, all thoughts of sashimi banished. He clenched his fists, nails digging into his flesh.

“Who dares to come around here, Pohaku? I know you know!”

But Pohaku sat still as stone.