Chapter Text
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Fishing: a pastime of peace, quiet, and patience. A tranquil escape from the hustle and bustle of daily life. Unless, of course, you were involved. Then it became less about serene waters and more about imminent chaos.
It all started with a phone call.
"Oh, Kuu-chan!” his mother had said far too cheerfully, which immediately made Saiki suspicious. "[name] wants to go fishing, and she doesn’t want to go alone! Isn’t that sweet? You should go with her!”
And just like that, he found himself standing on a rickety pier, clutching a fishing rod he never wanted, watching you with an expression that barely masked his inner turmoil.
You, on the other hand, looked like you had just discovered the meaning of life. A bucket hat perched crookedly on your head, oversized sunglasses slid halfway down your nose, and your outfit—a chaotic mix of mismatched patterns—looked less like a fishing getup and more like you were attending a very questionable music festival.
"Alright, Saiki, here’s the plan,” you began, pacing back and forth like some kind of general.
Oh no, he immediately thought, high on his guard as you paused, looking directly at him. "We catch a fish. Then we eat the fish. Then we become the rulers of the sea. Thoughts?”
"None that I want to share,” Saiki replied flatly, adjusting his rod. His psychic powers could have told him exactly where the fish were, but where was the point in that? Not that he cared about catching anything; he was here for one reason only—to figure out why he couldn’t read your thoughts.
An ongoing struggle he faced. And he wasn't anywhere close to figuring you out at all. All he knew about you, was, that you have some weird taste in decorations, you were likely raised by raccoons and that you can buy alcohol and nicotine products even though you're supposedly a teenager.
We're you a spy sent to spy on him? Did someone find out that he has psychic powers?
Well, that theory is absurd. He had to hold back the urge to have a gigantic wave wash you away as you stared ahead at the lake, the early morning sun casting a glow over your dramatic face.
You peered over at him. "What’s with the face? You look like you’d rather be anywhere else.”
He would rather be anywhere else. Literally anywhere. A dentist’s chair, detention, even one of Toritsuka's magazine rating nights. Yet here he was, because his mom had guilt-tripped him, and because you somehow radiated a force of nature he couldn’t quite ignore.
"Relax! We are experienced! Remember the VR fishing at the electronics store?“
Ah. A memory he wished to wipe from his mind.
With a dramatic flourish, you cast your line into the water. The hook landed with a weak plop about three feet from the pier. "Aha! And now we wait.”
"Uh-huh,” Saiki muttered, already calculating how long he’d have to endure this.
Minutes passed. You stood stock still, holding the rod with the seriousness of someone defusing a bomb. Saiki glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. How does she stay so focused on such pointless activities? He tried once again to read your thoughts, but as usual, all he got was a sound effect of plastic wrappers being opened and cheese grater aggressively smashed against an aluminum bowl. That's what it sounded like, at least.
He continued to watch you for five or so minutes, ignoring the way you began mumbling something to yourself quietly, then laughed aloud , startling him.
Suddenly, you gasped loudly, nearly dropping your rod. "I think I got something!”
Saiki looked at your line. It wasn’t moving. At all.
You reeled it in with all the enthusiasm of someone who’d just discovered buried treasure. "Oh, wait. Never mind. It’s seaweed.” You squinted at the soggy clump on the hook. "Do you think it’s edible?”
"No.”
"Aw, you didn’t even let me finish. What if it’s a delicacy somewhere? Like… seaweed sashimi or something?”
"It’s not.”
"Well, someone’s no fun,” you huffed, tossing the seaweed back into the water. As always... you thought to yourself with an eye roll.
You cast your line again, this time with a little more force. It soared… directly into the branches of a tree on the shore. "Oops.”
Saiki sighed deeply, stepping in to untangle it while you chattered on. "Y’know, I always thought fishing would be boring, but this is actually kind of thrilling! It’s like gambling, but with fish.”
"I can’t believe I’m wasting my time like this,” Saiki muttered under his breath as he freed the line.
"Oh, come on, Saiki! Live a little!” you said, tugging the rod back from him. "Besides, I’m doing this for research.”
He raised an eyebrow. "Research?”
"Yup. For my mission!” you replied cryptically, staring at the water.
Saiki blinked. Her mission? This was new. He leaned in ever so slightly, hoping you’d elaborate, but you didn’t. Instead, you gave the rod an aggressive yank and yelled 'HA' in a tone deeper than he could ever manage.
"I GOT SOMETHING!” you shrieked, the rod bending sharply.
This time, it was moving. A lot. Saiki could tell immediately it was too big for your beginner setup, but before he could warn you, the line snapped with a loud snap. You stumbled backward, landing ungracefully on your butt.
"Curses!” you hissed dramatically, shaking your fist at the water. "You may have escaped this time, sea beast, but I will return!”
"Right,” Saiki deadpanned, offering you a hand up.
As you dusted yourself off, you turned to him with a bright grin. "This was fun, huh?”
Saiki stared at you, unsure how to respond. Objectively, this had been one of the most ridiculous experiences of his life, but he couldn’t deny there was something oddly entertaining about watching you.
"Well,” you said, slinging your rod over your shoulder like a warrior heading to battle, "the fish may have won today, but mark my words, Saiki—we’ll be back. Stronger. Smarter. Hungrier.”
He sighed. This wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.
As you marched off toward the bus stop, humming a triumphant tune, Saiki followed, quietly contemplating how someone as unpredictable and chaotic as you could stump even his psychic powers.
____________________
You were back at it again, as relentless as a fisherman chasing Moby Dick. Bright and early the next day, you dragged Saiki out of his peaceful morning routine with a simple text message:
°. 〔Fishing, round two. Be there or be a landlubber 🌊🎣〕
And somehow, despite every fiber of his being screaming at him to ignore you, Saiki found himself standing on the pier again, wondering what he had done to deserve this. His telepathic abilities couldn’t explain why he couldn’t read your mind, but they did confirm that every fish within a ten-mile radius was likely smarter than you when it came to fishing tactics.
"Today’s the day,” you announced with unearned confidence, hands on your hips like a sea captain surveying their crew. The early breeze was ruffling your hair, sun hitting your face trough the canopy of the high trees surrounding the river-bank. Your outfit was even more ridiculous this time—a life vest over a floral-patterned jumpsuit, sunglasses shaped like hearts, and a floppy bucket hat with pins that said things like “Gone Fishin’” and “Hooked on Life.”
Saiki stared at you, then at the rod you were gripping like a weapon. "Why are we doing this again?”
"Because, Saiki,” you said, dramatically pointing to the horizon, "the ocean called me last night. In a dream. It said, ‘[name], come back and prove your worth.’ So here I am. Destiny waits for no one.”
He sighed deeply. Destiny, or your own boredom?
As you cast your line with a flourish—this time thankfully avoiding the tree—you turned to him and grinned. "Don’t worry. Today’s going to be legendary.”
Thirty minutes in, it was clear this was not going to be legendary. Your line was completely still, and the only thing you’d managed to catch was a stray plastic bag.
"Hey, look,” you said, holding up the soggy bag. "Eco-warrior points!”
Saiki pinched the bridge of his nose. "That’s not how this works.”
But your enthusiasm didn’t waver. You threw the bag into a nearby trash can and cast your line again, this time mumbling something about the “third time being the charm.” Saiki, meanwhile, sat in a camping chair you brought along for “relaxation”, watching the chaos unfold with his usual detached expression.
He had decided to come today not because he particularly wanted to, but because your bizarre determination to fish seemed connected to that vague “mission” you mentioned yesterday. If there was any chance he could get closer to solving the mystery of why he couldn’t read your thoughts, it was worth enduring another fishing disaster.
The problem was that you weren’t giving him much to work with. Your internal monologue, if he could hear it, was probably as chaotic as your outward behavior.
"Okay, strategy time,” you said, pulling out a notebook. Yes, you had actually brought a notebook labeled Fishing Plans: Operation Sea King. Flipping through the pages, you pointed at a hastily drawn diagram of a fish. "The goal is simple: we attract the fish with this bait and—”
Before you could finish, the rod in your hand suddenly jerked.
"OH MY GOD,” you screamed, nearly dropping it. "I GOT ONE!”
To Saiki’s surprise, the rod was bending significantly, and the line was taut. This wasn’t another piece of trash. You’d actually hooked something.
"Don’t just stand there!” you yelled, struggling to keep hold of the rod. "Help me!”
Saiki sighed but stepped forward, grabbing the rod with you. Together, you began to reel it in, the tension in the line making it clear that whatever was on the other end was big.
"This is it,” you gasped, eyes wide with excitement. "This is my Moby Dick moment!”
“It’s a fish,” Saiki deadpanned, though even he was slightly curious now.
After what felt like an eternity of tugging, the line finally surfaced, and both of you stared in shock at what you’d caught.
It wasn’t a fish.
It was… a shoe. A giant, ancient-looking boot, covered in seaweed and barnacles.
"Are you kidding me?” you exclaimed, staring at the boot as if it had personally wronged you.
Saiki, however, couldn’t help but find the situation mildly amusing. Of course, you’d manage to catch something so ridiculous. This was straight out of a 2000's cartoon.
You dropped the rod and held up the boot like it was a trophy. "Well, it’s not a fish, but it’s still a catch! What do you think, Saiki? Could I sell this on eBay as ‘vintage ocean chic’?”
"I think we should go home,” he replied flatly, turning to leave.
But you weren’t done yet. Tossing the boot aside, you grabbed your rod again and cast the line with renewed determination. "No way. I’m not leaving until I catch something alive.”
Two hours later, the sun was high in the sky, and you were still empty-handed. Saiki had long since resigned himself to his fate, sitting on the pier with his arms crossed while you paced back and forth, muttering to yourself.
"This is personal now,” you said, glaring at the water. "The fish are mocking me, I can feel it.”
“Maybe they’re avoiding you on purpose,” Saiki said.
You paused, narrowing your eyes at him. "You think they know something I don’t?”
"I think this is a waste of time.”
“Spoken like someone who’s never experienced the thrill of victory!” you retorted, pointing dramatically at the water. "Mark my words, Saiki. I’ll catch something today if it’s the last thing I do.”
As if on cue, your line suddenly jerked again.
For a moment, both of you stared at it in disbelief.
"THIS IS IT!” you screamed, grabbing the rod with both hands. "SAIKI, HELP ME!”
Reluctantly, he stood and helped you reel it in. This time, the struggle was even greater, and the anticipation was palpable. The tension was so great, it could be sliced.
When the line finally surfaced, you gasped.
It was a fish. A real, live fish. Small, but undeniably a fish.
You held it up triumphantly, grinning from ear to ear. "I DID IT! I AM THE MASTER OF THE SEA!”
Saiki said nothing, but for once, he found himself almost impressed. For a while, he watched you do some sort of a 'victory dance' which resulted in almost dropping the fish back into the water, then you quickly snapped few pictures of you holding the fish.
As you carefully placed the fish in a bucket, you turned to him with a satisfied smile. "See, Saiki? I told you today would be legendary.”
Legendary wasn’t the word he’d use, but he supposed it wasn’t the worst way to spend a morning.
Still, as you began packing up your gear, chattering excitedly about your next fishing adventure, Saiki couldn’t shake the feeling that this mission of yours—whatever it was—was going to be far more complicated than catching a fish.
By the time you both returned to your house, fish bucket in hand, Saiki was beginning to question every decision that had led him to this point. The entire walk back, you carried the bucket like it was a prized artifact, cooing at the fish as if it were a baby.
You'd had decided that you'd put the lonely and empty fish bowl in your living room and give life to the new and greater pet, which, hopefully, you'll take a better care of.
“Fred the Fish, huh?” you mused aloud, staring at the little guy swimming in circles. "You’ve got some big fins to fill, buddy. The last Fred was a legend.”
Saiki glanced at you, his face as impassive as ever. "What exactly happened to the last Fred?” he remembers the tale of the last one being flushed down the gutter, surely it had a twist. This was you, after all.
You sighed dramatically, the kind of sigh that suggested deep emotional trauma. "Fred the First met an untimely demise. Long story short, I thought he’d like to experience life beyond the bowl, so I let him swim in the sink. I didn’t realize the drain was open…”
Right, of course. Poor Fred.
Saiki blinked. "Why do I even ask?”
"Oh, but Cat absolutely loved Fred. He'd stare at him with this look of adoration all the time, you know...“ you cooed and Saiki's eyes narrowed.
I'm pretty sure Cat was just hungry.
Once inside, you made a beeline for the living room, where the empty fishbowl sat proudly on a cluttered shelf. The label “Fred the Fish” was stuck to the front in glittery gold letters, as though this were some sort of prestigious memorial.
"Home sweet home, Fred the Second!” you chirped, carefully pouring the fish and its water into the bowl. "You’re gonna love it here. The amenities are top-notch, and the food service is impeccable.”
Saiki stood silently in the doorway, observing the chaos of your living room. Why were the walls painted a whole another color than he remembers? It looked like a tornado had swept through a thrift store and left behind only the weirdest items—ceramic frogs, a lava lamp that was somehow both pink and neon green, and the sandpaper couch covered in mismatched throw blankets.
"Why is your house so…” Saiki struggled for the right word, though “chaotic” seemed too mild.
"Feng shui,” you said matter-of-factly, not looking up from the fishbowl. "I like to keep things interesting. Saiki, you should try it. I bet you’d be less grumpy if you had a beanbag shaped like a donut.”
He ignored the comment. "So, what now? Is Fred just going to sit there until he meets the same fate as the first one?” before your Cat manages to eat him, that is.
Speaking of Cat, he's there. Loafing around on the pile of Christmas themed socks, judging his way into Saiki's soul. He read his thoughts and was met with so much hate and judgment that he decided he was rather done with everything surrounding you.
You gasped, clutching your chest as if he’d insulted your entire lineage. "How dare you? Fred the Second is destined for greatness. I’m thinking of teaching him tricks—maybe even entering him in a fish pageant.”
"I’m leaving,” Saiki said flatly, turning toward the door.
"Wait!” you called, stopping him in his tracks. "You can’t just go after all the trouble you went through today! At least stay for dinner.”
Saiki paused, considering his options. On one hand, staying meant more of your unpredictable antics. On the other hand, going home would likely lead to his mom guilt-tripping him about how he should’ve stayed to be polite.
"Fine,” he muttered, stepping back inside.
In the kitchen, you were a whirlwind of energy, rummaging through cabinets and pulling out random ingredients. Saiki leaned against the counter, silently watching as you debated out loud between spaghetti and something you referred to as “experimental casserole.”
"I think spaghetti’s the safer bet,” you finally decided, grabbing a box of noodles. "Unless you’re feeling adventurous, Saiki. Are you adventurous?”
"No.”
"Spaghetti it is!”
As you cooked, you continued to chatter about everything and nothing. Topics ranged from your theories about fish psychology (“Do you think Fred dreams of the ocean?”) to random observations about life (“Why are spaghetti noodles called spaghetti and not ‘long macaronis?’”).
Saiki mostly stayed silent, occasionally nodding or grunting in response. He wasn’t sure if you were genuinely trying to make conversation or if you just liked hearing yourself talk. Probably both.
Eventually, dinner was ready, and the two of you sat at the small dining table. The spaghetti wasn’t bad—surprisingly edible, considering how chaotic your cooking process had been. He was glad you left the shampoo theory behind.
"This is nice, isn’t it?” you said, twirling some noodles around your fork. "Just two friends, sharing a meal, bonding over a fish.”
Saiki stared at you, wondering if you genuinely believed this counted as “bonding.”
After dinner, you insisted on showing him the fishbowl again, pointing out how you’d arranged the decorations inside to give Fred a “theme park experience.” Saiki couldn’t help but notice that the bowl was already way too small for the fish to swim comfortably, but he decided against saying anything.
"Thanks for sticking around today, Saiki,” you said as you walked him to the door. "Thanks to you, a new life begins.”
And ends soon, he mentally comments.
"I hadn't helped at all.” he says, raising an eyebrow.
You grinned, unbothered. "Well, I appreciate it. You’re a good sport.”
As he stepped outside, you waved and called after him, "Come back soon! Fred wants to see you again!”
Saiki sighed but didn’t respond, walking across the street with his usual calm expression. Still, as much as he hated to admit it, today hadn’t been the worst day of his life.
It had been weird, exhausting, and utterly nonsensical. But with you, that was par for the course. And somehow, against all odds, it was almost… entertaining.
Friends, huh?