Reincarnated as a Fisherman and a Dad

Reincarnated as a Fisherman and a Dad Chapter 7

Karlos began reeling in, but not like a madman in a tug of war. He could feel the fish on the line was quite large, and if he pulled too hard, the line might snap. So he took it nice and steady, relying on patience and technique.

At first, the kids crowded around him with excited eyes, cheering him on. But when Karlos just stood there, holding the rod and carefully adjusting his balance, they quickly got bored and wandered off to play with pebbles and shells on the beach.

Back in his original world, Karlos had watched countless fishing videos online and on television. At first, he thought fishing was all about luck. But after experiencing it himself, he came to understand the fundamentals through trial and error.

First, keep the rod tip up, ideally at a 45-degree angle, to maintain control and responsiveness.

Second, lift the rod using the weight of your body, not just raw strength. This way, the arms don't tire quickly.

Third, lower the rod while reeling in and pull the fish slowly, inch by inch.

Fourth, repeat the process until the fish is caught without exhausting himself or damaging the equipment.

Karlos used his legs and back to form a solid stance on the black sand. Whenever the fish pulled hard, he let it run, keeping the tension balanced between resistance and freedom. He never reeled against the drag, that could damage the reel or snap the line.

Fortunately, Karlos had developed great strength. His regular work as a fisherman had gradually built up his endurance without him even noticing.

After ten minutes of steady reeling, the fruits of his hard work finally appeared in the shallow, clear water.

"Giant Trevally!"

He shouted with excitement and stepped into the shoreline, where the waves gently lapped at his feet.

The fish looked tired after the battle. It barely moved as the waves rolled it ashore like a defeated warrior. When Karlos approached, it flicked its tail weakly, but it had little strength left.

Grinning from ear to ear, Karlos scooped the fish into his arms. The kids came running back, cheering loudly.

"Talakitok! A big talakitok!" one boy shouted, pointing at the massive catch.

In their region, Giant Trevally was commonly called talakitok. But for clarity, let's stick to Giant Trevally.

The children surrounded Karlos as he placed the fish into the bucket. It was so large, it filled nearly half the space.

The fish he caught was about 28 inches long and likely weighed around 7 kilograms, a remarkable catch, especially from the shore.

"Uncle, can you sell it? I heard Giant Trevally sells well at the fish port."

In their culture, kids addressed older married men as Uncle out of respect, even if they weren't related. So it was normal for them to call Karlos that.

"Well, that depends on whether someone's interested in buying just one Giant Trevally," Karlos replied, squinting toward the ocean under the orange sunlight reflecting on the water.

At the fish port, buyers usually purchased in bulk. A single fish wasn't often sold unless it was particularly large or specially requested. Still, it wasn't impossible, it just depended on timing and luck.

'Let's see... if I remember right, Giant Trevally goes for around 40 pesos per kilogram.'

He had seen a fisherman selling several of them earlier at that rate while he was working as a porter.

'If I lower it to 35 pesos, I can still make a decent profit without much effort.'

The fish port in their town operated 24/7, except during typhoons or weather advisories. Most buyers were active from early morning until noon, when the catch was fresh and abundant.

If he sold the Giant Trevally at 35 pesos per kilo, he'd earn about 245 pesos. That was already equivalent to half a day's work as a porter carrying crates under the sun.

To be fair, a hardworking porter could earn more if he had steady contracts. Carrying a 20-kilogram basket usually earned around 10 pesos, but some buyers were stingy, and a few never paid at all, offering excuses. After getting fooled once or twice, porters avoided those kinds of clients.

While Giant Trevally wasn't exactly rare in their region, it wasn't common to catch one this size so close to shore.

After thinking it through, Karlos decided to sell the fish later. He would drop by the house first to put away his rod, then head to the fish port.

"For now, let's try catching more. Maybe I'll get lucky again."

Catching a 7-kilogram Giant Trevally on the first cast was incredibly lucky, even veteran fishermen would agree.

He picked another bait, a sardine the size of his fist, damaged and discarded at the fish port. It smelled fishy, but he didn't care.

With a precise swing, practiced countless times, Karlos cast the bait as far as possible. The line flew out and stopped once the bait hit the surface.

The kids tried to poke the Giant Trevally, but Karlos shooed them away, waving his hand like a vendor guarding fresh goods. He wanted to sell it in pristine condition, no bruises, no torn fins.

He sat down again, using his slippers as a cushion to keep the cold sand from sticking to his shorts. The kids ran off, playing barefoot further down the beach. Most of them had tanned skin from spending so much time in the sun, wild and carefree.

Karlos began slowly reeling in. Since his bait was already dead, he needed to mimic natural movement to attract predators. With live bait, a fisherman would usually leave the line still. But for dead bait, reeling slowly gave the illusion of life, something he had learned through trial and error.

He wasn't worried about the hook snagging on rocks or corals. The beach had already been picked clean from years of human activity.

It didn't take long before he felt another pull.

The line jerked hard, another big one.

From the tension alone, Karlos guessed this one weighed more than 10 kilograms. He followed the same method as before: patient, steady, and deliberate. No wasted energy. Just focus.

The fish below the surface was in full survival mode, thrashing and twisting violently.

Karlos remained calm, keeping steady pressure on the line. He rarely dealt with snapped lines because he always checked and maintained his gear meticulously, from the hook to the reel.

After 15 intense minutes, the fish finally began to emerge from the depths.

"Spanish Mackerel!"

In their region, it had another local name, but to avoid confusion, Karlos preferred to call it by its widely known name, Spanish Mackerel.

With effort, he grabbed the fish as it flailed. No matter how many times he went fishing, that moment, the moment he caught something, always felt incredible.

This one was long and sleek, weighing about 13 kilograms and spanning 40 inches. Despite the weight, it was difficult to handle with two hands because it was still alive and slippery.

Karlos laughed and slipped it into the bucket, now nearly full. The Giant Trevally stay still, while the Spanish Mackerel flopped wildly.

Spanish Mackerel was more valuable than Giant Trevally, often selling at 60 pesos per kilogram, sometimes even more, depending on the day.

As the sun dipped lower, casting long shadows on the beach, Karlos decided it was time to head home. The cold wind had arrived, carrying the smell of salt and sea. Even the kids had started going home.

Karlos balanced the heavy bucket in one hand and the fishing rod in the other.

As for the leftover bait fish, he tossed them back into the sea where they belonged, either to be eaten or to decompose naturally. He had no plans of eating them himself. Sure, they were technically fresh, but they were discarded for a reason. Better to let them return to the ocean.