Ayana: The Song Beneath the Storm

The night was warm, the air kissed with salt and the low murmur of waves. Ayana stood near the edge of the bar, where golden light met the dark outside. Her braids shimmered under the hanging lamps, and though she wasn’t performing yet, every part of her looked like a woman born for the stage.

She wasn’t smiling. Not quite. But her eyes scanned the bar like she was waiting for something.

Or someone.

Behind the counter, Roshi watched her. Not like the others did. Not with hunger or noise. Just a steady gaze, like he was remembering a dream half-forgotten.

He didn’t say a word. He didn’t need to.

Because sometimes… the storm comes to you. And you recognize the quiet before it breaks.

When she sang, it wasn’t loud. It wasn’t showy.

Just one long, low note—smooth, steady, round. Like it had weight. Like it had been waiting to be sung for a hundred years.

The bar fell quiet. No clinking glasses. No footsteps. No whispers.

She held the note a second longer… then let it drift into silence like a feather in the dark.

No one clapped. Not because they didn’t want to— but because they didn’t know how to come back from wherever she just took them.

Ayana stepped down like it was nothing. Like she hadn’t just shifted the air.

But Roshi knew.

And somewhere beyond the lights… something else might’ve heard her too.

Ayana didn’t leave. She lingered near the bar, towel in hand, wiping her palm—not nervously, just habit. Like she needed something to hold onto.

Roshi stepped out from behind the counter. He didn’t bring attention. Just walked over, calm and quiet.He placed a glass in front of her. She didn’t ask for it.

“You’re not just a girl who can sing,” Roshi said.Ayana looked up. Her face didn’t change, but her eyes did. Just a flicker.“That song you did tonight,” he continued, “where’d you learn it?”

She looked down at the drink. “I didn’t.”A silence passed between them.“It just… came out.”

Roshi nodded slowly. He didn’t question her. Because he believed her. And that scared her more than if he hadn’t.She searched his face, like she wanted to ask something—but didn’t.

Maybe she thought he was just being kind. Maybe she thought he was flirting.

But another part of her—the part still humming—wasn’t so sure.

The bar had mostly emptied. Only the staff and a few slow drinkers remained, scattered in pockets of quiet. Outside, the wind had picked up—barely—but with intent. The kind of shift a man like Roshi always noticed.

Ayana lingered near the open doors, her arms wrapped loosely around herself, eyes fixed on the dark sea.

Roshi walked over, no rush in his step, just presence. He stood beside her, not too close.

“You know,” he said casually, “I had a friend once. Could sing like that.”

She didn’t answer. But the stillness around her sharpened.

“Same kind of voice. Soft. Deep. Like it didn’t come from her throat at all.”

Ayana’s hands tensed slightly. Roshi kept going.

“She used to sing to the ocean. Thought no one was listening.”

He glanced toward the water, calm.

“But the ocean did listen. And it didn’t always like what it heard.”

Ayana turned her head slowly toward him. Her voice, when it came, was tight.

"That’s not something people say, Roshi."

He met her gaze without flinching.

“You don’t have a normal voice.”

She didn’t reply. But she didn’t look away either.

Just stared at him like maybe, for the first time, she wasn’t alone.

A distant rumble rolled through the sky. Not thunder yet. But close.

Ayana finally broke the silence.

“How do you know that?”

Roshi didn’t answer.

“How do you know that?” she repeated, louder this time. A tremble under her words.

Then, softer—

“Do you… know me?”

He looked at her—direct, grounded.

“Not yet.”

She blinked. Something between fear and relief crossed her face.

“But I’ve met someone like you before,” he said. “A long time ago.”

Her eyes searched his.

“She wasn’t human.”

Ayana stepped back—just half a step. Not away. Just… trying to breathe through it.

“I’m not saying you are,” he added. “But your voice? It moves the world the same way hers did.”

Outside, the wind scraped along the doorframe. The ocean whispered louder.

And Ayana stood still, like the truth was finally starting to echo back.

The lights above them flickered once—just a ripple in the power. The glass behind the bar rattled lightly in its frame.

Ayana turned her head toward the open doors. The wind was heavier now. The ocean had risen.

Roshi followed her gaze.

“Looks like they’re calling you home again,” he said.

The words weren’t poetic. They were just true.

Ayana stared out at the sea. Her breath caught. Her fingers curled slightly, as if something inside her remembered what came next.

He didn’t touch her. He didn’t step closer.

He just waited.

And when she turned toward him—eyes wide, heart racing—he nodded once.

“Come on,” he said. “Let’s ask them.”

The storm hit the sand before they did.

Wind howled across the beach, ripping at the surf, scattering the first drops of rain. The tide swelled high and violent. But Ayana didn’t step back.

Roshi followed at a distance, hands in his pockets, watching like a man who knew what came next… but wouldn’t dare interrupt it.

She walked into the heart of it. No pause.

Waves crashed. Lightning split the sky. Ayana stood at the shoreline, arms at her sides, chest rising.

And then—

She sang.

No words. No melody.

Just sound—drawn from somewhere deeper than her lungs, deeper than memory.

The wind screamed.

The tide surged.

And at the center of it all—Ayana didn’t move.

She glowed.

Faint at first. Then brighter.

Her fingers shimmered. Her collarbones lit.

And in the next breath—

Her legs dissolved into water and light.

Scales bloomed along her skin like ancient memory.

A fin unfurled beneath her.
Ayana had become a mermaid.

Not a curse.

Not a trick.

A truth.

The ocean didn’t pull away.

It welcomed her home.

And the storm…

It bowed.

The storm was gone.

The sky hadn’t cleared, not completely—but it was quiet.

The wind was soft now. The sea, still.

Like the whole world had exhaled.

Out past the shallows, Ayana floated—half above the surface, her long braids trailing behind her, her turquoise tail glinting beneath the moonlight.

Not hiding.

Not confused.

Just… herself.

She turned slowly, eyes locking with his.

“Hi, Roshi,” she said softly, with a smile that curled like tide foam.

He smirked.

“Welcome back.”

Ayana tilted her head. “Thanks for… helping me remember.”

Roshi shrugged. “You didn’t come to my bar by accident.”

Her eyes narrowed playfully. “So what—you’re some kind of destiny bartender now?”

“No.” He stepped forward just enough that the water lapped at his boots.

“I’m retired.”

She laughed. And then—

“Roshi… how do I thank you for this?”

He smiled, slow and dangerous.

“Well,” he said, adjusting his shades just slightly.

“You could always buy me a drink.”

Ayana: (grinning)

“Yeah? You gonna perform your Super Saiyan trick like last time?”

Roshi: (chuckles)

“Oh-hoho… ‘last time,’ huh? Thought you’d forgotten everything.”

Ayana:

“Forget the Silver Phoenix? Please. I came to your bar, didn’t I?

But the real question is—

Is the phoenix still up to its legend?”
Roshi: (smirking, shades slipping just a little)

“Hey now… never doubt a phoenix.”

Ayana: (leaning in, eyes glowing)

“Well… what the hell are you waiting for, then?”