Could you write about an abused betta fish mer with a neglectful owner that sells them to a much richer more knowledgeable person who’s all like sniff sniff you didn’t even give them a filter or provide them with natural plants?
Thank you so much for this ! Actually felt inspired to write.
The water was a muddy shade of green– or was it just the glass ? The bowl was so small you could hardly tell the difference. And in worse condition was the fish inside. The betta mer. He was floating, his vibrant red and purple scales dull. The only movements were the quick, irregular flutter of the gills on his humanoid chest, and the slow waving of his fins. Caretaker frowned as he noticed something even more worrying, but not surprising given the state of the "tank". Patches of white fungus were stretched across his fins, eating at them and making their ends ragged, and worse, it was nearly covering the gills on one side. That explained the difficult breathing.
Caretaker stood from his kneeling position, a frown set on his face. His friend's daughter, whose name he had already forgotten, looked up excitedly and smiled.
"See how pretty it is ? I put plenty of shiny rocks inside. So it doesn't get bored. But he's not very funny."
The adult glanced at the pathetic amount of flashy pink, green and yellow fake rocks covering the floor of the bowl. Not even a fake plant.
"Dear, do you not clean his water ?"
It was another voice that answered, from the door. Caretaker's friend, who shrugged.
"I did, in the beginning. But it's very time consuming. And like, there's moss in the wild too, right ? I think it might just be eating it too, because when I toss its pellets, it doesn't even try to eat them."
Well, at least Caretaker knew now why the betta mer's stomach was caving in. With the fungus draining his energy, he probably didn't have the energy to move around. Caretaker sighed.
"A pump would help, really. It's not that expensive, I can even give you one if you want. You know I have a lot of tanks..."
His friend looked down as his daughter skittered away, her attention taken by the house cat. He shook his head.
"Well, actually, I was planning on flushing it. She's quite bored with it, you know. And it looks like it's gonna die soon anyway. It would be more humane to just let it go, wouldn't it ?"
Caretaker had to take a deep breath. He knew flushing dying fish down the toilet was a thing, but he hadn't realised that people also did this with merfolk. Given how humanoid they looked, he would've thought it wouldn't be as easy. He hesitated, unsure of what to do, his gaze sliding back to the twitching figure in the greenish water, his chest heaving as he struggled to drag water through his gills.
He didn't hesitate anymore.
"I could take him. I have a freshwater tank that's just finishing up the cycling."
His friend shrugged, relieved to see the euthanasia duty removed from him.
"Really? Hey, you know what, if you want to, go on. I don't think it's gonna live much longer, though."
Caretaker nodded. He didn't have anything to transport the mer, so he took the bowl as it was, sealing the top with a plastic bag and an elastic band that his friend, who was watching him with a doubtful eye lent him. Luckily, his apartment wasn't too far, and the betta mer wouldn't be jostled for too long.
He drove as slow and steadily as he could without being an annoyance to other drivers. The betta was limp in his bowl, the frantic pulsing of his gills being the only indication that he was still alive.
When they arrived, he rushed inside, checked his free tank's PH levels, which seemed fine, and made the final preparations. It was a ten gallons tank, which was ideal for a single male mer. He had prepared it for the mating and laying of his discus, whose eggs kept being eaten by smaller fishes in their actual tank, but it would do fine.
He never had a mer before. They were in a grey area concerning legal sentience matters, and he preferred to stay away from potential trouble. But he knew what you shouldn't do with one. And leaving one suffocating in fungus, in a dirty, unfiltered tank wasn't great.
The adaptation process was long; but in the betta's, the shock could be fatal if not done properly. He put him in a small tank, with the remaining of the dirty water he was used to. Then, every fifteen minutes or so, he added a few spoonful of the cycled tank's water.
It wasn't until a few hours later that he began the process of treating the fungus.
He added drops of a fungus treatment to the water, a 7 days course. The aggressive kind, not the salt bath, given how extensive the contamination is. It could be lethal, but it was the only solution.
The next day, when the small tank was mostly filled with the cycled water, caretaker came in and examined the betta.
He had survived the night, which meant the worst part was probably behind. His eyes were open, their edges looking a bit inflamed. Likely irritated by the dirty water. There were no visible results on the fungal infection yet, but the mer turned his head towards Caretaker, and visibly flinched away. This was objectively a good sign since it showed a better awareness of his surroundings, but the human still felt a pang of compassion for the small creature.
He used a small net to raise the betta out of the water, and submerged him in the bigger, fully cycled tank.
The mer stilled, his small hands grasping at the net. The water here was cool, so unlike the sickening warmth of the fish bowl. Clean too, a gentle flow coming from the pump in a corner.
Caretaker waited, his hand still holding the net. The betta mer was free, but wasn't letting go, and he couldn't force him without likely hurting his tiny form. He was likely overwhelmed, after having spent his life in such a small tank. His fins were ragged at the ends, damaged from the constant brushing against the glass. Here, they had room to unfold, surrounded by plants, real ones, plants and a long piece of driftwood. Hiding places.
After a few minutes of hesitation, while visibly nervous, the mer finally let go of the net. Caretaker watched as he slowly explored his surroundings, his movements careful and wary, but active. His gills seemed to move better than the previous day despite the fungus.
The mer hovered, and turned his gaze toward the glass wall where Caretaker was watching. His face was hesitant still, uncomprehending. The human gave an encouraging smile, suddenly aware of how huge he must seem to the betta. But after another look around, the mer's face opened with a shy attempt at a smile. It wasn't joy, not yet. Just the hope at the realisation that something more that plastic rocks was possible.
