Episode 1: The Fish Behind the Glass
Lina had always believed that fish were boring.
Not all fish, perhaps.
Some had bright colours. Some looked like they had accidentally bumped their heads against a wall and never recovered. Some were so strange that Lina could stare at them for almost five minutes before remembering that she had homework waiting at home.
But fish were still fish.
They swam.
They ate.
They opened and closed their mouths as if silently complaining about everything.
That was about it.
At least, that was what Lina believed before the Saturday afternoon when she met the fish that swam backwards through time.
It happened at a large marine attraction in Kuala Lumpur, where Lina had been dragged by her younger brother, Amir.
Dragged was not an exaggeration.
“Come on, Lina!”
“I’m coming.”
“You said that five minutes ago.”
“I was coming emotionally.”
Amir stopped and stared at her.
“What does that even mean?”
“It means my feet haven’t agreed yet.”
“You are so weird.”
“Thank you.”
Their mother laughed as they walked behind them.
The attraction was packed that afternoon. Families moved from tank to tank, children pressed their noses against glass, and excited voices echoed beneath the high ceiling.
Outside, Kuala Lumpur was hot and bright.
Inside, everything was cool and blue.
Lina liked that part.
She liked the dim lighting, the enormous tanks, the moving shadows and the strange feeling that the ocean had somehow been folded up and placed inside a building.
She had recently developed a serious dislike for being told what she should find interesting.
Unfortunately, her brother had not developed the same maturity.
“Look!”
Amir pointed.
Lina looked.
A huge fish drifted slowly through a tank.
It was long and thick-bodied, with enormous scales that shimmered beneath the blue lights.
“That’s an arapaima,” said their mother.
Amir’s eyes widened.
“It looks like a giant fish that swallowed another fish.”
Lina snorted.
“Very scientific.”
They stood watching it.
The arapaima moved slowly.
Then Lina noticed something.
There was a small sign beside the tank.
She leaned closer.
The sign explained that arapaima were ancient freshwater fish native to South America and could grow to remarkable sizes.
Lina read the last line twice.
Then she noticed something strange.
The fish was staring directly at her.
Not looking generally in her direction.
Not drifting past.
Staring.
Lina stepped closer to the glass.
The fish remained perfectly still.
“Uh…”
“What?” Amir asked.
“It keeps looking at me.”
Amir immediately pressed his face against the glass.
“It is looking at me too.”
“No, it isn’t.”
“Maybe it likes handsome people.”
“You?”
“Obviously.”
Lina rolled her eyes.
Then the lights flickered.
Once.
Twice.
The entire tank suddenly went dark.
A few children gasped.
The blue glow disappeared.
For three seconds, there was only darkness.
Then—
FWOOM.
The tank lit up.
But the fish was gone.
Lina blinked.
The tank was enormous.
There was nowhere for it to hide.
Yet the arapaima had vanished.
“Where did it go?” Amir whispered.
Lina looked around.
Then she heard something.
A faint sound.
Like water moving through a narrow pipe.
Swish… swish… swish…
The arapaima appeared again.
Except now it was swimming backwards.
Its tail moved first.
Its head pointed toward the direction it had come from.
Lina frowned.
Fish could swim backwards.
She knew that.
But this was different.
The fish was moving backward through the water while everything around it seemed to move normally.
And then something impossible happened.
A tiny bubble floated past its nose.
Inside the bubble, Lina saw a picture.
A picture of the same room.
But it looked different.
Older.
The walls were unfinished.
The aquarium tanks were smaller.
And a boy in a yellow shirt was standing beside the glass.
Lina stepped backward.
The bubble popped.
“Did you see that?” she whispered.
“See what?”
“Nothing.”
The arapaima turned.
Its huge dark eye met Lina’s.
And Lina heard a voice.
Not with her ears.
Inside her head.
Find the blue tile.
Then the fish disappeared.
Episode 2: The Blue Tile
Lina did not tell her mother.
She did not tell Amir either.
Not immediately.
There were certain things you could tell people.
For example:
“I think I lost my water bottle.”
Or:
“Amir ate the last curry puff.”
Or:
“I have absolutely finished my homework.”
That last one was sometimes a lie.
But:
“A giant fish just spoke inside my head and told me to find a blue tile.”
That was different.
People would look at you.
Then they would ask if you had been sleeping properly.
So Lina kept quiet.
For the next twenty minutes, she pretended to enjoy the attraction.
She looked at jellyfish.
She watched tiny silver fish move together like a single shimmering cloud.
She listened to Amir explain, incorrectly, that sharks could smell someone’s fear from five kilometres away.
But Lina’s mind was somewhere else.
Find the blue tile.
What blue tile?
Where?
Why?
And why her?
When they reached the café area, Lina suddenly stopped.
“Amir.”
“What?”
“Did you see the floor outside the big arapaima tank?”
“Yes.”
“The tiles.”
“What about them?”
“Were any blue?”
Amir shrugged.
“Maybe.”
“Can you remember?”
He looked suspicious.
“Why?”
“No reason.”
“You are doing your detective face.”
“I don’t have a detective face.”
“You do.”
“I don’t.”
“You have the face you make when you think you’ve discovered something.”
Lina sighed.
“Just help me.”
They went back.
The crowd had become thinner.
Most visitors had moved toward another section.
Lina examined the floor.
Grey tiles.
White tiles.
Dark tiles.
No blue.
She crouched.
Nothing.
Then Amir pointed.
“There.”
Near the edge of the tank, partly hidden beneath a bench, was a tiny square of blue tile.
Lina’s heart jumped.
She reached beneath the bench and touched it.
Cold.
Very cold.
The moment her finger touched the tile, the aquarium lights flickered again.
The water inside the arapaima tank began to glow.
And something appeared on the glass.
Words.
Written in pale blue light.
YESTERDAY IS NOT ALWAYS BEHIND YOU.
Amir’s mouth fell open.
“Lina…”
“I know.”
“Did you do that?”
“No!”
The words vanished.
Then a small blue shape slid across the floor.
It was a fish scale.
It stopped at Lina’s shoe.
She picked it up.
It was warm.
On its surface was a tiny symbol.
A circle crossed by three lines.
Underneath it were four numbers:
1987
Lina stared.
“What happened in 1987?” Amir asked.
“I don’t know.”
Their mother called from across the room.
“Lina! Amir! We’re going!”
Lina quickly slipped the scale into her pocket.
That night, she could not sleep.
Rain tapped against the window.
Kuala Lumpur was unusually quiet.
Lina lay beneath her blanket, staring at the ceiling.
She searched through books about fish.
She searched through old photographs on her mother’s tablet.
She searched everything she could think of.
But 1987 gave her nothing.
Then she remembered the picture inside the bubble.
The unfinished aquarium.
The boy in yellow.
And the arapaima.
Lina sat upright.
“Wait.”
The aquarium attraction had not always looked the way it did today.
Perhaps it had been built later.
Perhaps the fish had been there before.
She grabbed a notebook.
On the first page, she wrote:
THE BACKWARDS FISH
Underneath:
1. It can travel through time.
She paused.
“That sounds ridiculous.”
She wrote it anyway.
2. It showed me 1987.
3. It told me to find the blue tile.
4. Something happened in 1987.
Then she added:
5. Why me?
Outside, thunder rolled across the city.
Lina looked toward the window.
For one second, she thought she saw a giant fish swimming through the reflection of the rain.
She blinked.
Nothing.
Then her phone buzzed.
A message from Amir.
You awake?
Lina typed:
Yes.
Another message appeared.
I found something.
Episode 3: The Old Photograph
The next morning, Amir showed Lina a photograph.
He had found it on an old information board near the attraction’s exit.
It was part of a small historical display.
The picture showed the site decades earlier.
Lina leaned closer.
There it was.
The same building.
Not exactly the same, but unmistakably the same place.
And in the photograph stood a group of people beside a much smaller fish tank.
Lina’s eyes moved across the image.
Then stopped.
A boy in a yellow shirt.
The same boy she had seen inside the bubble.
“He looks familiar,” Lina whispered.
Amir squinted.
“Maybe he’s someone’s grandfather.”
Lina pointed.
“Look at his hand.”
The boy was holding something.
A small blue tile.
Beside him stood a woman carrying a bucket.
And inside the tank was a young arapaima.
At the bottom of the photograph was a handwritten note:
First freshwater exhibit — 1987.
Lina felt a chill.
“Something happened here.”
Amir nodded.
“Obviously.”
“You’re enjoying this too much.”
“Very much.”
They searched the display.
Most of the information was about the building’s early years.
But one paragraph caught Lina’s attention.
It mentioned that several young volunteers had helped care for freshwater animals when the attraction first opened its educational exhibits.
One of them was named Daniel Tan.
Lina looked at the boy.
Daniel.
She read further.
Then stopped.
There was no more information.
No story.
No explanation.
Just a faded photograph.
That afternoon, Lina returned to the arapaima tank.
She stood alone before the glass.
“I found Daniel,” she whispered.
The fish appeared.
Slowly.
It moved toward her.
Then it turned around.
And began swimming backward.
The water shimmered.
The room vanished.
Lina gasped.
She was standing somewhere else.
The same aquarium.
But decades earlier.
The walls were unfinished.
Boxes were stacked everywhere.
A boy in a yellow shirt was kneeling beside a tank.
He looked about twelve.
A younger version of Daniel.
He was talking to the arapaima.
“I know,” he said softly.
Lina stepped closer.
Daniel suddenly looked up.
He could see her.
“You came.”
Lina froze.
“Who are you?”
“Daniel.”
“Can you hear me?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
Daniel smiled sadly.
“The fish brought you.”
“The fish?”
He nodded.
“He swims backward.”
“Through time?”
“Sometimes.”
Lina stared.
“Why?”
Daniel looked at the fish.
“Because he remembers.”
“Remembers what?”
Daniel reached into his pocket.
He pulled out a blue tile.
“Something was lost here.”
“What?”
“A promise.”
Before Lina could ask more, the scene shook.
The sound of rushing water filled the room.
Daniel shouted:
“You have to find the place where the rain enters!”
Then everything snapped back.
Lina was standing in front of the modern tank.
Her hands were shaking.
The arapaima was gone.
But something lay on the floor.
A small folded piece of paper.
She picked it up.
On the front were three words.
WHEN IT RAINS.
Episode 4: Rain Over Kuala Lumpur
That evening, the rain arrived.
Not ordinary rain.
The kind of Kuala Lumpur rain that seemed to fall from the entire sky at once.
Water hammered the roads.
Drainage channels filled quickly.
Motorcycles disappeared beneath plastic raincoats.
Cars crawled through shining streets.
The city became a world of umbrellas, headlights and puddles.
Lina sat beside the window.
She kept thinking about Daniel.
Find the place where the rain enters.
The next morning, she returned to the attraction.
Amir came with her.
“I still don’t understand why we have to do this before breakfast.”
“Because the fish told me.”
“You keep saying that like it’s normal.”
“It is normal now.”
They explored the older part of the building.
Eventually they found a maintenance corridor that had been turned into a historical display.
At the end was an old drainage system.
Lina noticed a blue tile.
Then another.
Then another.
They formed a trail.
“Amir.”
He looked down.
The blue tiles continued toward a locked door.
They stared at each other.
“This is probably where we get chased out,” Amir whispered.
“Probably.”
“Good.”
“Why good?”
“I was getting bored.”
Lina laughed despite herself.
They searched for another way.
Behind a display panel, they found a narrow opening.
Beyond it was an old storage room.
Inside stood several dusty boxes.
And on the wall was a faded drawing.
A fish.
Swimming backward.
Underneath were the words:
Some memories refuse to disappear.
Lina touched the wall.
The fish appeared again.
This time it was enormous.
Its scales glowed silver-blue.
And Lina heard Daniel’s voice.
“The promise was simple.”
The scene changed.
She saw Daniel standing beside the tank in 1987.
A girl stood with him.
She looked about ten.
They were both holding blue tiles.
“We’ll come back,” the girl said.
Daniel nodded.
“Every year.”
“For the fish.”
“For the fish.”
The scene shifted.
Years passed.
The children grew older.
The aquarium changed.
People came and went.
The girl returned several times.
But eventually she stopped.
Daniel waited.
One year.
Two.
Five.
Then ten.
The fish remained.
Lina suddenly understood.
“The promise wasn’t about the fish,” she whispered.
It was about remembering someone.
Someone who had left.
The fish had carried the memory all those years.
And somehow, the blue tiles had become a trail.
A way for the past to ask the future not to forget.
But Lina still didn’t understand what she was supposed to do.
Then she saw something.
A metal box beneath the old drainage pipe.
The lid had a blue tile attached.
Lina reached for it.
The moment she touched it—
CRACK!
Thunder exploded outside.
The lights went out.
Water began rushing through the old drainage channel.
Too much water.
Amir grabbed Lina’s arm.
“We need to go!”
But the metal box had opened.
Inside was an old notebook.
Lina grabbed it.
They ran.
Episode 5: The Flooded Room
The rain became heavier.
Water rushed beneath the old door.
Lina and Amir tried to get back to the main corridor.
But a fallen metal panel blocked their path.
“Great,” Amir said.
“Not helpful.”
“I know.”
They pushed.
Nothing.
Water reached Lina’s shoes.
Her heart began pounding.
“Amir.”
“I’m pushing!”
“Push harder!”
“I am!”
The water rose.
Then Lina remembered the drawing.
Some memories refuse to disappear.
She opened the notebook.
Most of the pages were ruined.
But one page remained readable.
Daniel had written:
If the water rises, don’t fight it. Follow where it wants to go.
Lina looked at the rushing water.
It was flowing toward a small opening beneath the wall.
“Amir!”
They followed it.
The opening led to an old drainage passage.
It was narrow, dark and unpleasant.
“You’re seriously suggesting we crawl through there?”
“Yes.”
“That is definitely how horror stories begin.”
They crawled.
The passage opened into another room.
Lina stood.
The room was circular.
In the center was an old empty tank.
On the wall were dozens of blue tiles.
Each one carried a date.
And so on.
Lina slowly understood.
People had been adding tiles.
Each year.
Each tile represented a memory.
A promise.
A visit.
But after a certain year, the tiles stopped.
There was a gap.
Then one final tile.
2004.
Lina touched it.
The arapaima appeared.
But this time it did not show the past.
It showed the future.
The room was bright.
The walls had been repaired.
Children were learning about freshwater fish.
A small sign hung beside the tank.
It read:
Memory Garden — Created by the Children of 1987.
Lina stared.
“The promise was completed.”
But why bring her here?
Then she noticed something.
There was an empty space on the wall.
One final tile was missing.
The fish turned toward her.
And Lina finally understood.
It wasn’t asking her to discover the past.
It was asking her to add something to the future.
She looked at Amir.
“We need a tile.”
“A blue one?”
“Obviously.”
“Where are we going to get one?”
Lina smiled.
“I have an idea.”
Episode 6: Lina’s Tile
The next morning, Lina told her mother everything.
Not everything about the fish speaking inside her head.
That part still sounded impossible when said aloud.
But she told her about the old photograph.
The notebook.
The blue tiles.
The forgotten promise.
Her mother listened quietly.
Then she said:
“Sometimes old places carry stories that nobody remembers anymore.”
Lina looked at her.
“You believe me?”
“I believe that you found something important.”
That was enough.
With help from the attraction’s staff, Lina and Amir learned more about the old exhibit.
Daniel Tan had eventually become a teacher.
The girl from the photograph had moved away.
They had lost contact.
But Daniel had kept the tradition alive for many years.
Then, when the old exhibit was renovated, the blue-tile wall had been forgotten behind newer construction.
The notebook had been part of his records.
Daniel had written one final sentence:
If the children of the future find this, don’t simply remember us. Add your own story.
Lina felt something warm inside her chest.
That was the real message.
The fish had not brought her backward so she could live in the past.
It had brought her backward so she could understand it.
A week later, Lina and Amir returned with a small blue ceramic tile.
Lina painted it herself.
She painted a fish swimming backward.
Above it, she wrote:
WE FOUND YOUR STORY.
Below it:
NOW WE WILL CARRY IT FORWARD.
The tile was placed beside the others.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then the aquarium lights flickered.
Lina looked toward the arapaima tank.
The great fish emerged from the shadows.
It swam forward.
Slowly.
Gracefully.
For the first time since Lina had met it, it did not swim backward.
It swam toward the glass.
Then it turned.
Its tail flicked gently.
And Lina heard one final voice.
Thank you.
She smiled.
“You’re welcome.”
Amir looked at her.
“What did it say?”
Lina glanced at him.
“Nothing.”
“You are smiling.”
“So?”
“You always smile like that when something weird happens.”
“Maybe I’m just happy.”
“Suspicious.”
Lina laughed.
Outside, rain began falling again.
The city became silver beneath the clouds.
People hurried beneath umbrellas.
Cars rolled along wet roads.
Somewhere above the buildings, thunder rumbled.
Lina looked back at the aquarium.
The arapaima disappeared into the blue darkness.
For one tiny moment, she thought she saw a bubble rising through the water.
Inside it was a boy in a yellow shirt.
Daniel.
He waved.
Then the bubble popped.
And he was gone.
Episode 7: What Time Leaves Behind
Months passed.
Lina returned to the aquarium many times.
The blue-tile wall became part of a new educational display.
Visitors stopped to read the story.
Children asked questions.
Parents took photographs.
Some people thought the tale was simply an old local tradition.
Others believed there was something mysterious about the arapaima.
Lina never corrected anyone.
She had learned something important.
Not every mystery needed to be explained completely.
Some mysteries were meant to remind you to pay attention.
To people.
To places.
To stories.
To the things that quietly disappeared when nobody bothered to remember them.
One Saturday, Lina stood before the arapaima tank with Amir.
“You still think fish are boring?” he asked.
Lina considered it.
“Some fish.”
He laughed.
The arapaima glided past.
Its enormous scales caught the blue light.
For a second, Lina imagined she could see the faintest glow beneath them.
She placed her hand against the glass.
The fish looked at her.
And Lina wondered whether time was really a straight road.
Maybe it was more like water.
Always moving.
Always changing.
Sometimes rushing forward.
Sometimes circling back.
And sometimes carrying a tiny memory from one generation to another until somebody finally noticed.
The rain outside grew heavier.
People began gathering their umbrellas.
Lina and Amir walked toward the exit.
Before leaving, Lina looked back one last time.
The arapaima was swimming normally now.
Forward.
Always forward.
Lina smiled.
Then she whispered:
“Keep going.”
The fish flicked its tail.
And disappeared into the blue.
Forward through water.
Backward through time.
And carrying a story that would never again be forgotten.
The End…
