The scream cut through the evening air like a blade.
"Help! Please—someone help my child!"
Ethan's thoughts shattered.
He turned instinctively toward the sound, his eyes locking onto the sea. The waves were restless, rising and falling under the dim sky, reflecting the dying sunlight like broken glass.
Then he saw it.
A small body.
A child—no more than four or five years old—struggling helplessly as the sea dragged him farther from the shore. His tiny hands thrashed weakly, his head dipping under the water again and again.
People gathered along the beach.
Some pointed. Some shouted. Some froze.
No one moved.
Ethan felt his heart slam violently against his chest.
His mind raced. I'm not a hero. I'm not strong. I don't even know if I can swim that far.
Fear wrapped around him like chains.
Then the child disappeared beneath a wave.
Something inside Ethan snapped.
He ran.
Sand sprayed behind him as he sprinted forward, shoes forgotten, breath ragged. He didn't think. He didn't plan. His body moved before his mind could stop it.
He dove into the sea.
Cold water swallowed him whole, shocking his senses. The salt burned his eyes and throat as waves slammed into him from every direction. He forced his eyes open, scanning desperately.
There.
The child was sinking now, movements slow and uncoordinated.
Ethan kicked forward with everything he had, ignoring the ache in his muscles, ignoring the burning in his lungs. His fingers brushed the child's arm.
He grabbed him.
The boy was lighter than Ethan expected—too light. Ethan wrapped an arm tightly around the child's chest and kicked upward, fighting against the pull of the sea.
A wave lifted them.
Ethan's head broke the surface.
Air exploded into his lungs as he gasped desperately.
"Here! Take him!" someone shouted.
Hands reached out. Strong arms pulled the child from Ethan's grip.
The boy coughed, crying weakly.
Alive.
Relief flooded Ethan so suddenly that his body almost went limp.
He's safe.
That was when the sea claimed its price.
A sharp, crushing pull yanked his leg backward.
Pain shot through his ankle as something tightened around it. Ethan cried out, water rushing into his mouth as he was dragged under again.
His hands fumbled blindly, touching something rough, thick, decayed.
A rope.
An old ship rope buried beneath the sand.
"No—!" he tried to shout, but the sea swallowed the sound.
He kicked violently, twisting his body, clawing at the rope with numbing fingers. But the waves were relentless, slamming into him again and again, pulling him deeper.
His lungs burned.
His chest screamed for air.
Panic surged through him, raw and overwhelming.
The surface grew farther away. Light faded. Sounds dulled.
As his strength drained, a memory surfaced—uninvited, vivid.
He was a child again.
Standing in a hospital corridor that smelled of disinfectant. His father sat on a chair, sleeve rolled up, a tube running from his arm into a hanging blood bag.
Ethan had watched silently for a moment before tugging on his father's hand.
"Dad," he asked, confused, "why are you giving him your blood?"
His father smiled tiredly.
"Because he needs it."
Ethan frowned. His small mind worked hard.
"Then… why don't other people give him blood?""Why does it have to be you?"
His father knelt down, meeting Ethan's eyes. His voice was calm, steady.
"Listen, Ethan," he said. "Helping one person won't change the whole world."
Ethan's face fell slightly.
"But," his father continued, placing a warm hand on his shoulder, "it can change the world for that person."
Ethan turned then, looking toward his mother who stood nearby, worry and kindness written all over her face.
"Mom," he asked softly, "is what Dad said true?"
She smiled and walked closer, brushing his hair gently.
"Yes, Ethan," she said. "When you help someone in need, someone will help you when you are in need."
Her words were gentle.
Certain.
Back in the sea, Ethan's chest tightened painfully.
Water filled his lungs.
His limbs felt heavy, unresponsive.
Dad… Mom… he thought weakly.Then why… why did that someone never come for me?
Images flashed through his fading mind—his parents' smiles, the orphanage walls, endless days of being invisible.
The current dragged him lower.
Darkness closed in from all sides.
His thoughts slowed.
Maybe… he thought bitterly, this is all I was meant for.
The sea embraced him.
And Ethan Heart sank into nothingness.