Fishing?

It was eight-thirty when the three waded out into the dark water. The moonlight glinted off peaks of the gentle ripples and cast protruding rocks, the beach, and the men in an eerie glow. Takaou-Sensei, the leader of the group, as well as the 'fishing' instructor for the evening, was fully clothed in long sleeves and pants, and suggested that Jon keep his shirt on as the shallow reef may scrape his underside. Three clothed men waded waist-deep towards the craggy northern tip of the island, hands filled with gear for the night’s adventure. They had driven as far north as they could but the mountain and lack of road kept them from being able to drive further and the high covered the beach entirely insisting they wade. The foreigner was almost giddy with excitement and the kilometer walk seemed but a few meters.
After almost five minutes of wading, Takao motioned to Nigo-sensei with his spear towards a faint shape, about the size of an open hand, moving in the water. By the time Nigo readied his trident, the squid had escaped to deeper water. The group continued on.
When they had almost reached the northernmost tip, with the steep grassy slope of the mountainside glaringly reflecting moon rays back toward the three, Takao gestured to the others to pull off their water shoes and don the flippers they had been carrying. After distributing gloves, he soon disappeared below the surface. Having had a quick lesson in spear-thrusting on the shore, Jon felt somewhat prepared for the hunt to follow, however, had to ask the other remaining teacher what should be done if he were to 'catch one.' Both Nigo and Takao had what appeared to be steaks attached to a rope, which was in turn attached to a floatation device and tethered to their waists. Nigo instructed Jon to find him in the event of a kill to relieve the fish from his spear.
Flashlight on and spear in hand, Jon positioned his mask, clamped down on his snorkel and ventured below into the black. Though it wasn't cold with his shorts and t-shirt on, he was surprised at the drop in temperature from the afternoon two days ago, during which the ocean temperature was suited for one of the long baths he rather enjoyed back home in Canada. At that time, he marveled at the previously unfathomable ocean warmth. The density of the water allowed only articles caught directly in the beam illumination and his mask limited his peripheral vision such that it was surprising to him to look while adjusting his light just to his left, though there was a beautiful expanse of coral at his two o'clock, and find another magnificent belt of reef. He had been told that night fishing was better for spearing because the fish would be more docile; and this was soon tested as he aimed his spear at the first fish of eatable size.
He wasn't told anything about minimum fish sizes and was unsure whether the scaled creature before him was of legal killing proportions; and was thus hesitant to follow through. More incredible than how close it let the spear tip get was absurdity that this bright blue, yellow and black beauty, the type Jon had only seen on scuba diving programs produced by National Geographic as a boy, was about to be skewered by the end of this wooden-handled metal spike. Beast triumphant, beauty desecrated. It shouldn't be. He felt like one of those divers one sees in the larger tanks in the aquarium feeding the sea life or aiding a birth, but instead of giving life, he was about to perform a Texas chainsaw-style massacre right before the eyes of onlookers, innocent children, peering in wonder through thick paned glass. It couldn't be. He looked desperately for one of his companions. He wanted to shout to them, "Is this the kind we're out to get?" but they were only flickering lights somewhere far in the distance and even if he somehow could talk through his snorkel and they could hear through the water, his poor Japanese and their limited English made the distance all the more expansive. He thought that somehow, the type they were fishing for must be a drab grey or silver, like the kind he had seen at the market. The kill would have been so easy - like hitting Fat Albert at the centerline in dodge ball; but Jon elected to find a companion for further direction. Both had vanished entirely from sight, however, so he decided to surface to find out whether they could be spotted from above.
Light reflecting off the surface of the water from below could be seen about 20 meters away so he swam towards it. As he neared, he noticed Nigo struggling with his trident. He had speared a fish of the very same type and size as the one he had just allowed to live. The creature was flailing for all it was worth in an effort to somehow release itself from the death hold. It attempted to find freedom in a hole in the coral, but Nigo’s spear was firm and followed it in. Soon it was trapped as the protruding spear tips lodged into the coral and the fight was over.
Spurred on by the excitement of the kill, Jon lost any empathic sentiment for aquatic life and rushed off, eager to find the next prey. Questions regarding size and type resolved, he was off in search for anything over one foot that moved. Multiple and brilliant colour were no longer attractive in the aesthetic sense, but simply aided in the discovery of the hunted.
The first colourful creature he saw, however, he knew well enough to leave alone. He almost swam past the flowing orange, white, and black tendril, assuming it to be some inanimate sea plant; but on second glance, saw it was a fish. The scorpionfish had nestled itself into a crag inside the reef such that from all but the angle facing the opening all that was visible were the long strands of its fins. After further investigation, our hero moved on to something less toxic.
Soon afterwards he was on the trail of a comical-looking fish. It’s features seemed all out of proportion, with fins and tail that were too small for the size of its body and bulging eyes that looked like they should belong to a fish five times its size. The body was an odd shape as well. Instead of flat along the axis of its backbone like most other fish, this one was not flat at all. The eyes, snout, brown spotted markings, body shape, and most notably, the quill-like protrusions aimed toward the dorsa made this creature appear as though it belonged on land. Jon aimed his spear at its midsection and after a close-range thrust, was astonished at the outcome. Firstly, and rather disappointingly, the spear merely bounced off its target. And secondly, the creature responded by suddenly increasing in size, causing the quills of the porcupine fish to protrude out from its body.

Providentially for the fish resting in the northwest reef-bed of Tonaki Island, Jon’s blunted spear couldn’t penetrate their bodies, as was proven by three consecutive attempts. Two other fish similar to the one Nigo speared were blessed by Jon’s curse: having been given an octopus spear (as later informed by one of the villagers the following evening at a community house gathering, after sharing his story) with an intentionally blunted tip.
Jon lay awake that night with a sashimi-less stomach and a mind full of memories.