Color the ocean red (to prove my love to you)

Friendly red eyes, what a murderous delight

Being a magical creature sucks, Shanks can vouch for that. Humans make up 80 % of the vast population, whereas magical folks make up 20%. Is not in any way fair to be so few of them scattered across this earth while the 2 legged scum pop one after the other, like some kind of parasite. The redhead's annoyance rises as he thinks about how he has to put up with being surrounded by humans while he has to live his day-to-day life.

Dawn Island was a small piece of earth where a city is. The island is not as big as other islands, but reasonably enough, and quite frankly Shanks likes it that way.

The mer was lounging in the sun on the sand, his tail lazily flapping behind being the only sound in his ears.

Shanks was enjoying a relaxing day in the sun, after all, it was rare for the redhead to get such an opportunity with the 2 legged scum ruling over his beach like their little playground. The mer thought bitterly about how many times he needed to give up his lazy day and go do something else because the humans were invading his spot.

In his humble opinion there were too many people on this island but so much more in this period of the year, summer, was the worst. Shanks have to put up with thrash littering the sand, screaming brats, and all types of human odors. It was hell. So, Shanks was more than surprised when he came near the beach to search for coins and see the place void of bipedal life.

The sun was far past the center of the sky and its rays made the water warmer. The gentle waves hitting his back further amplified the calm atmosphere. Sand stuck to the skin on his stomach but he didn't care.

Shanks decides that he quite likes it more when the humans aren't present. He doesn't like to share, not at all. Not even with other mer.

Talking about other mers, he didn't catch even a glimpse of one for years. Back when he was just a pup that was yet to know how to hunt, the day his pod decided to leave him near the beach of the Dawn Island and be gone like the wind.

No goodbyes, no explanations, no nothing. Shanks was left alone to call for his pod for a week like a fool, stopping when the activity of the ships rose, drawn by his noises. Maybe it was his striking red hair and tail that were camouflaged by blood and corals only, or his high-pitched clicking and wobbling that he made. One thing was for sure, he will never know what prompted his pod (not family, they weren't his family) to leave him here (he doesn't want to know).

But Shanks doesn't let himself think in the past, it was what it was, he doesn't have to like it, just to accept the reality he was in. It was hard to accept that he was alone for the first few years and harder to deal with the loneliness, but he managed to push all this to the side and focus on surviving.

The mer let himself go boneless on the sand as the breeze ruffled his strands of shoulder-length hair. Shanks was not letting his guard down, sharp claws out, hidden under sand, ready to shred anything their owner demanded.

Shanks hasn't survived so long for nothing after all. He learned the ins and outs of the unspoken rules of the ocean. Scares that lay across his body were proof of that.

The mer's eyes snapped open, noise approaching breaking the calm atmosphere. The redhead had dragged himself out of the water and onto the sand to enjoy the sun, not far enough from the water to get stranded but enough so that he would have to move fast to get back.

This part of the beach was in the back of the island, not as used by the humans but Shanks is still at risk of being seen if the main part was occupied by the two-legged scum. He tried to not get noticed by humans. If he did, the mer will make quick work of the witnesses. His favorite color was red for a reason.

So when a ball rolled from behind the corner of the rocky wall and a single seat of steps got closer, the mer knew he would have fun.

Call him a monster or whatever, but drowning humans was his favorite activity. From naive tourists to unsuspecting locals, even sailors full of themselves. Shanks had put them all in a watery grave on the floor of the ocean. Via his honey-dripping tongue that can lure the dumb humans, or his strong tail that can make ships shake with a hit from it, paired with his sharp claws; the sailors that fell in the water became just shredded meat.