“I still don’t get why everyone was so mad,” Drake said, sounding surprisingly cheerful.
“You definitely do,” I retorted, somewhere between flabbergasted and unimpressed, “you know exactly why.”
“I had it under control,” the old sailor insisted with an easygoing smile.
“You evolved a Gyarados on purpose, inside of a ship!” I had to stop myself from yelling. “That’s like… like… I can’t think of what it’s like, because it’s so stupid!”
“Now hold on. I responded to a Gyarados evolving inside of the ship. No one can prove that I actually had a causal relationship with said event.”
I looked at him, startled into silence by his brazenness.
“Now, people might suspect me,” the old sailor continued, “but those aren’t grounds for arrest, or even deportation. Especially since I did such a fine job protecting the ship.”
That much was true, if one ignored the fact that Drake had been the one to endanger it in the first place.
The scene played itself out in my mind’s eye once again. I’d gone running past the stunned sailor, following the noises released by the dread serpent. The cloying scent of blood clogged my nostrils, choking me like an iron garrote, but luckily, the hissing cries of the Gyarados lead me away from the Magikarp abattoir, and deeper into the bowels of the Kinnya.
Distantly, a part of me had wondered what I was doing. Surely Drake had the situation well in hand. He was a former champion, and he’d evolved the Magikarp with a purpose.
That bloodcurdling scream tore out again, this time, the rage mingled with some new emotion I couldn’t place. A Gyarados was a city-endangering threat. What could my knights and I do against that?
Yet still. I had peered behind me, at my six knights charging along in my wake, just barely able to keep up with my full-on sprint. What if. What if we turned back here, and something happened? Something bad?
I‘d never be able to get over that ‘what if.’
So we ran. Sprinted down the Kinnya’s steel arteries, following the noises made by the raging monstrosity buried in the barge’s guts.
What I’d seen when I’d finally found the beast had taken my breath away.
A second arena was built into the Kinnya’s hold. I’d had no idea this was down here, so I wasn’t sure of its function, but it looked pretty standard. The power was on right now, a shimmering red barrier proving that whoever had started it up had wisely powered it on to its fullest potential.
Behind those translucent walls, a pair of titans were brawling.
Except, that would have given too much credit to the Gyarados. The poor serpent squirmed on the ground, vainly trying to escape the crushing pressure emitted by a truly massive Salamance’s front claws.
I’d seen Drake’s partner before, in old, grainy video footage, or in still images, but never like this, in all his glory. The media came nowhere close to doing the old Dragon the justice he well deserved. The rippling waves of muscles, barely contained by the vibrant waves of his azure scales. The imperious stare in his eye as he bore down and rent the struggling sea serpent with a Thunder Fang that put most Zap Cannons to shame. It was like comparing a black and white photo of a sunset with the real thing.
Which was to say, not a comparison at all.
The newly evolved Gyarados let loose one more rage-filled roar, impossibly loud, even through the barrier, before slumping over, driven into unconsciousness by the unrelenting current flowing through the monstrous dragon’s jaws.
My knights and I had stood there, in stunned silence, as the former champion perfunctorily threw a regular Poké Ball at the unconscious serpent. It didn’t even roll, just clicking shut and letting loose a solemn capture tone.
It’d taken me maybe half a minute to get down there, give or take, and Drake had easily dealt with the newly evolved Gyarados in that time, without his partner even sustaining any damage, by the look of things.
And yet even still.
“It doesn’t matter if people can’t prove it, the FSBC isn’t stupid, Drake. They know you did it,” I informed him, snapping back to the present with a vengeance. “You could be in some real hot water with the network for endangering their staff, not to mention the Kinnya!”
“Oh what a shame. Guess they won’t be inviting me to do any more TV events. Good thing my reliable handler is around to soothe ruffled feathers and work everything out behind closed doors. Such a tragedy, that smoothing things out will probably take her the whole rest of the week.”
I felt my eyes widen with realization, and I looked at the old sailor. He had the audacity to wink at me. “Like I said. I had it all under control. Now, let’s say you and I grab something to eat, and figure out what we’re doing tomorrow.”
-
The former champ insisted that we get something ‘authentically Ferrum.’ It necessitated leaving the dock area, which I thought might be a problem, but Drake just flashed some papers at the checkpoint, and we were through. We ended up going to Necry’s Pot, since it felt pretty traditional, and might be novel for the foreign sailor.
“So what kind of place is this,” the old sailor asked, as we stepped into the restaurant.
“It’s Iron Pot,” which in my mind, should have been a sufficient explanation. The confusion in my temporary mentor’s gaze told me that I’d chosen our dinner well, “Here, follow me, I’ll show you.” I brought him over to the start of the pot display, and released my knights, picking up Lance so I could get his input for what my partners wanted.
The long counter running along the side of the restaurant was covered in iron pots, the contents simmering atop carefully maintained burners. A Darmanitan stood behind the counter, monitoring the heat on all of the stations, and standing ready for when we made our choice.
“So, the chef prepares each of these pots uniquely, every day, combining various stews and ingredients together. They’re never exactly the same, so your best bet is either to ask Darmanitan for his recommendation, or take the lid of the pots, and try to guess if you’ll like them for yourself.” So saying, I demonstrated exactly what I meant, plucking the lid off of one of the pots and taking a deep inhale of the fragrant steam wafting off of the stew contained within. The sweet scent of Pecha ran up my nose, and while I found it appealing, I knew my knights wouldn’t like it as much, so I kept looking.
It took me a few more pots to find something we’d all appreciate, a spicier looking brew with visible chunks of Leppa. The spice would be tolerable for me, while still being strong enough to satisfy my knights, and I thought the tomato base of the stew would pair well with the hearty lab-sausage placed whole in the pot.
For his part, Drake bemusedly checked a few of the bubbling cauldrons, before releasing Cutter. He picked up the diminutive dragon, exchanging a few words, and then he went over to Darmanitan. I couldn’t catch what he said over the ambient volume of the restaurant, but the boisterous Fire-Type helpfully pointed him to a couple of pots, and both sailor and Pokémon seemed happy enough with one of the options, after a bit of investigating.
Our decisions made, Darmanitan stacked the ones we chose, one atop the other, and brought us over to an empty table. He set the pots down in waiting receptacles built into the furniture and wiggled them around a bit, until they settled in place with a clink. That done, he gestured for us to take our seats.
“Thanks, Darmanitan,” I told him with a smile, “seven bowls for me, please.”
The muscular Fire-type responded with a grin, and a nod, before turning to Drake.
“Two here,” the former champ told him.
Requests received, the Darmanitan walked off. A few moments later, two sets of utensils, two ladles, and a stack of ceramic bowls floated over to our table, obviously encapsulated in a glowing corona of psychic energy. With masterful precision, the cutlery settled on our table, and a pair of oven mitts finished off the procession, settling right next to our pots.
“And now we can dish out the contents of the pots, and eat,” I explained, as I put word to action, filling my knights’ bowls. I had to be somewhat particular about the order, Percy first since he had a Meowth’s tongue and Lance last, since he loved a challenge, but the bowls in the middle had a bit more flexibility, and I dished them out to whoever caught my eye first.
My knights held their discipline, unmoving in front of the meal until everyone’s food was in front of them, including Drake and his diminutive partner.
Once the last bowl was done, I sat down, spoon in hand. I gave an appreciative nod to Drake, who’d held off himself, and compelled his partner to do the same. “Alright everyone, let’s eat!”
The next few minutes were spent enjoying the food. My knights definitely appreciated the spicy flavors in the stew I’d picked. Bers practically suctioned his portion up, requesting seconds before I could take more than a few sips. Tristan did a better job of taking his time, lapping up his meal bit by bit, so I made sure to keep a helping at the bottom of the pot for him, for when he finished his first serving.
Drake seemed to enjoy the meal for his part, which was a relief. He took to it with gusto, though the former champ’s enthusiasm paled in comparison to his partner’s. Cutter absolutely demolished his bowl, and then looked shamelessly to his partner for more. Between the two of them, they were able to clear out a full pot, which was a quantity of food my knights and I were barely able to finish between the seven of us.
Most of the stew went into Cutter, a Dragon’s constitution really was something else, but Drake had five bowls, more than twice what I could eat myself. “Glad you liked it,” I told Drake with a grin, as we got down to the dregs.
“Was a good pick,” the old sailor nodded appreciatively. He finished off the last of his bowl, and then sat back with a groan. “Good portions, too. Restaurants back home don’t fill you up like they used to.”
I shrugged. “Probably because it’s supposed to be enough food to feed your partner too.”
The old sailor shrugged in his seat, “Could be.” We fell silent for a few moments, ruminating over the meal, before Drake heaved himself up. He took a few seconds, scanning the restaurant sedately. “Say Fe, does this place have any human staff?”
I took a moment to consider the question. “I don’t think so?” I told him, after thinking for a bit. “I mean, I’ve never seen a human out front, but there could be some working in the back,” I shrugged.
The former champion was giving me a look, and I couldn’t place what his expression meant. “What?” I asked him. It came out a bit more defensive than I intended.
He stared for a couple more moments, and then shook his head. “It’s nothing, sorry. Just remembering again how different Ferrum is from Hoenn,” he smiled, and then started. “Actually, speaking of differences, you Ferrum folk don’t know a thing about fishing, if what I saw today is any example.”
I narrowed my eyes. “What do you mean? The fisherman were out there with line and tackle, and people on the Kinnya were saying that the haul this year was great.”
The old sailor snorted, “Sure, but catching Karp barely counts as fishing. Hard enough to keep them off the rod as is, even without your synergy stones riling them up.”
“I’m sure they could have been catching other things, if that was the goal,” I defended our fisherman. “Fish protein, real fish, not Pokémon, is a really important part of our diet.” Most of that was farm-raised, as far as I knew, but I had to assume the fact that we had professional fisherman at all meant that they were skilled.
Drake apparently didn’t think so, judging by the way he snorted. “And anyone can haul up a Magikarp, or a mundane fish. Real fisherman hunt greater prey.”
“And I suppose you’re an expert on this? I didn’t think you caught Dragons with a rod and tackle.”
Drake grinned, “And that’s where you’re wrong, lass. I can think of three Dragon species off the top of my head that you can find with a rod.”
I felt my eyebrows climb up past my forehead. “Tauros shit,” I challenged, “what kind of dragon gets yanked up with a fishing pole?”
The old sailor’s eye took on a cunning look. One I was rapidly growing familiar with. One that I knew meant trouble, “What an interesting question. How about I show you?”
-
“I’m still not seeing any Dragon-types.”
“Now hang on lass, give it some time.”
“We’ve already given it some time!” Seriously, we’d been sitting on this particular rock in the middle of the ocean for at least an hour already, and the only thing we had to show for it was a small bucket of hand-sized fish.
The ocean breeze flowed past us, taking a bit of sting out of the autumn sun. The heat was unrelenting, and I’d already reapplied the sunscreen I’d put on to start the day. I was probably going to need to put on more in another hour.
Drake had warned me when he’d landed his Salamence in front of our apartment that I needed to be ready to get wet, and sure enough, the constant ocean spray had me feeling like I was practically underwater. All this so we could sit on this stupid rock and cast lines into the vast kelp field surrounding this stone outcropping.
“Patience, Fe. I’ve got a good feeling about this spot.”
“You said that about the last spot, and the one before it too.” We’d set out first thing in the morning, and now it was well past lunch time. The scariest thing Drake had caught was a particularly mouthy se Rhemoraid, and I’d fared far worse, finding a grand total of nothing, but one, solitary, mundane fish.
“Bah, that was then, this is now,” the old sailor replied with, what was in my opinion, completely unwarranted confidence. “The other spots weren’t bad, but this is actually a good one. I’ve got a sense for these things, you know? There’s something tough down there,” he gestured out at the gently waving layers of kelp, blanketing the ocean floor from view. “Seriously. Just watch your line.”
I suppressed a sigh, and settled back against the hard stone, attempting in vain to get comfortable. I turned my head, taking a moment to watch my knights and Cutter as they practiced. My knights were focusing on Protect, trying to get the interval between uses of the move, and Cutter was blowing constant Dragon Rages, apparently trying to condense them enough to start converting them into real Dragon Pulses.
The training seemed effective enough, but no more than what I’d usually be doing with my knights on any given day. Frankly, it sort of felt like we were wasting our time out here, and I was running out of doubt to offer the benefit of.
Another half-hour blew by, and I was just about reaching my boiling point when I felt a tug at my line. I didn’t believe it for a moment, and I just sort of sat there blankly, staring at my rod. Then, another pull, this one almost strong enough to wrench the pole out of my hands. “I think I have something?” I said, incredulity in my tone. And sure enough, moments later the intermittent yanks turned into consistent pressure, and I gave a sharp tug on the rod, hopefully setting the hook. “Yep, definitely got something.”
I began reeling, but the winch complained as whatever was on the other end of the line struggled against the device. “It’s determined too,” I complained through gritted teeth, and I tried to keep my hold on my rod.
“You’re doing great Fe, keep holding them, try to tire the sucker out,” Drake instructed from over my shoulder. Normally, those sort of hovering instructions would get on my nerves, but I knew effectively nothing about fishing beyond what the former champion had told me at the start of the day, so the reminders were appreciated.
A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
My struggles continued for a few moments, and then the line slackened, my catch worn out. I raised the rod tip, trying to keep the hook set, and began reeling again. It came in without resistance for a few seconds, and then began struggling again.
This cycle continued for what must have been a couple of minutes, before I was finally able to retrieve my prize from the shallow depths around our perch. I stared appreciatively at the fruits of my labor, a decently-sized white and blue fish. It was maybe two-tenths of a meter, and it felt pretty hefty as I held it up, out of the water. I wasn’t sure of the exact species, but it had an interesting pattern of scales running down its side, and surprisingly expressive eyes.
“Well, it’s no Dragon-type, but I’d bet this will make a pretty good dinner.” I wheeled to Drake with a grin.
Instead of the smile back I was expecting, the former champ’s features were contorted momentarily in a grimace. The expression vanished quickly, however, fast enough that I was left doubting what I’d seen. “Now that’s odd, Fe, I thought you told me that you don’t eat Pokémon?”
I blinked a few times, nonplussed. “What?” Then the fish hooked on the end of my line actually started crying, giant glistening tear drops flowing down the slides of its scaly body.
-
“You’re telling me that was a Pokémon?” I complained at Drake, my pitiable catch already released back into the sea’s embrace. “It put up less of a fight than a Magikarp. Arceus, some of the things in that bucket struggled harder!” I pointed at the receptacle containing our catch so far.
“I never said it was a strong Pokémon,” Drake shrugged, “they’re called Yowashi. Used to have them in Hoenn, but we thought they went extinct a few decades back. I guess there are still some populations here in Ferrum.”
I frowned. “I’ve never heard of a Pokémon like that before. Is there anything distinguishing about them?”
The former champ paused for a second. The delay was brief, but it was enough to put a sliver of doubt on his next words: “Nope. They don’t evolve, and they’re the weakest Pokémon I know.”
Drake’s pronouncement was met with silence, for a few moments, and then a quiet call from the water, “Wash, washi wash.”
We both looked down, to see the subject of our conversation, sticking their head up from between the kelp fronds, tearfully eavesdropping on our conversation.
“Drake, you’re hurting their feelings,” I admonished the former champ.
The dragon master scoffed. “I doubt this Pokémon has ever seen a human in their life. It doesn’t know what we’re saying.”
“Yeah, but they certainly can understand your tone,” I warned him, just as a tiny, miniscule spurt of water flew out of the Yowashi’s mouth. It almost reached Drake’s face, but fell short, and just sort of made his coat a little damp.
The old sailor let loose an unimpressed snort. “Alright, maybe I am hurting their feelings, but what are they going to do about it?”
The Yowashi started crying again.
“Just because they’re not the strongest right now is no reason to be mean!” I admonished the former champ. “Sure, not all Pokémon are created equal, but they all have potential,” I knelt down, bringing my face close to the Yowashi’s. “Don’t you listen to him. I’m sure with enough effort and training, you could show him just how wrong he is.”
The (presumed) Water-type’s tears fell more slowly, and then dried entirely. “Washi, wash?” They asked. I couldn’t get a perfect read on their tone, but I thought there were hints of doubt in there, so I doubled down.
“Definitely!” I put as much reassurance in my voice as I could. “It might be hard, but if you’ve got the right attitude, you can pull it off.”
The Yowashi seemed a bit mollified, and it did a happy little flip out of the water.
Drake snorted again. “Really, really hard,” he emphasized. “Like, monumentally difficult. Now c’mon, we’ve got lines to watch.”
I shot the crotchety sailor a dirty look, and then turned back to the Yowashi. “We’re going to keep fishing. You’re welcome to hang out, but don’t bite the hook again, okay?” I showed them the small metal implement. “Do you understand?”
“Washi!” The fish actually nodded, so I think my message got through.
Drake and I settled back in, but now I had a new distraction. The tiny Water-type frolicked around our perch, jumping in and out of the water. They even came up on the bare stone for a short while, pulling themself along on their adorable little gray fins.
Eventually, the Yowashi proved itself too cute, and the fishing too dull. “Forget this,” I set my rod aside, and pulled my tank top over my head. The one-piece I had on underneath it had seen better days, but it functioned just fine, and that was what mattered. “I’m taking a dip,” I told Drake, before putting an experimental toe in the surf. The temperature was refreshing, after baking for hours in the sun. “Watch my knights for me?”
“Sure,” Drake said with a sigh. “I’ve got them. Just don’t go out of sight of the rock, or too deep. “No telling what’s around here.”
I nodded, and passed Drake my knights’ ball, for in case they got too rowdy. “I’ll say close. If I scream, that means I need help.”
He snorted, and took the ball from my hands.
Assured he had things handled, I slipped into the clear water, and the Yowashi playfully sped around me, swimming gleeful circles as I reacquainted myself with treading water. My knights let out some concerned chirps, they’d never seen me swim before, but I reassured them with a happy wave, and then set out exploring the region around our rocky perch.
The kelp was impressively thick, limiting underwater visibility to less than a meter, which let the tricky Yowashi keep sneaking up on me, and playfully bumping me with its nose. The interaction quickly devolved into an impromptu game of tag, with me trying to catch up the tiny fish and bop it back. I’d probably have struggled against most Water-types, but true to Drake’s word, the Yowashi wasn’t the fastest swimmer, nor the most nimble, so the game ended up being surprisingly even.
“Fe, you’re getting a bit far!” Drake called out from the rocky outcropping.
“Right, sorry!” I shouted back, noting the distance. I was still in sight, but the Yowashi and I had drifted a ways away during our game.
Drake turned back to his rod, and even though I couldn’t hear it, I could totally imagine him grumbling, as he went back to his fruitless fishing.
I suppressed a chuckle, and started swimming towards the rock.
I made it maybe a meter, before I felt something wrap around my leg. I was about to shout in alarm, when whatever had me yanked, and I went below the surface of the water. I desperately shut my mouth, glad for the breath I’d taken in my attempt to scream for help, and whirled to face my assailant.
I desperately fought back flashes of panic as I slowly got dragged deeper. I could see that something was wrapped around my leg, but I couldn’t differentiate it from the floating strands of kelp surrounding me. I reached down, tucking myself up so I could reach whatever was tangled around my ankle. Maybe I’d gotten my leg wrapped around some of the kelp?
Sure enough, a long, grassy frond surrounded my leg, knotted up in a slimy mess. Desperately, I tried to disentangle it, but the second my hands made contact with the kelp, it constricted, no longer merely wrapped, but now squeezing my leg. My descent accelerated.
This was definitely no normal kelp. Now truly desperate, I tried to pry my leg free, but my efforts were to no avail. Suddenly, a pair of glowing eyes appeared next to me. I started, barely managing to keep myself from screaming as fear overtook panic for a moment, but the yellow light wasn’t emanating from some sinister assailant, but rather from the distressed Yowashi, whose tearful mein looked at me with concern.
Their eyes were like twin spotlights, illuminating the gloom surrounding us and giving me a clear view of their face. They seemed uncertain for a few moments, and then visibly worked up their resolve, and swam down to my leg.
They tried, they really did. The Yowashi rammed into the kelp, bit at it, tugged, and even tried a Water Gun, this one just a little bit stronger than what they’d spat at Drake. None of it did anything to loosen the bond around my ankle. I was starting to get spots around my vision, and I could hear my heartbeat roaring in my ears.
The Yowashi gave another desperate tug, and then another strand of kelp crept up on them. I noticed it out of the corner of my eye, and tried to make some sort of noise through my closed mouth to warn the little Water-type, but they didn’t hear me, and the green frond wrapped around their tiny body, pinning them down, and dragging them deeper, same as me.
The Yowashi’s tearful look went from concern to abject fear. I’d bet that my face looked much the same, at the moment. The small water-type’s terror passed quickly, however, turning instead into sad acceptance. I was having a hard time thinking by this point, fear and oxygen deprivation addling any attempt at coherence, but seeing that look on my would-be savior galvanized something in me. I fumbled a Poke Ball off of my belt, and with a desperate lunge, slammed the button on its front into the bound Water-type.
With a reassuring snap-hiss, the Yowashi was sucked into the ball, free from the kelp’s entrapment. I clutched the little metal sphere close to my chest, willing the Yowashi to stay inside until the danger had passed.
At least one of us could survive this.
That thought sent another desperate thrill of panic through me, and terror enough to drown out everything I’d felt to this point. I was about to die. There was nothing else I could do. Wasn’t my life supposed to flash before my eyes at this point? Maybe that would come after I started drowning? I felt the strangest urge, to open my mouth right now, just to get it over with, but instead, I screwed my eyes shut, putting all my effort, all my concentration, all my hope into holding my breath for just a little bit longer.
One second. Two. Each moment I held out just a little bit longer I got to spend alive. Never before had a second felt so precious.
Then, I couldn’t wait any longer. My mouth opened, and my body desperately tried to inhale on reflex.
Instead of the lethal mouthful of water I was expecting, glorious, precious air filled my lungs. I opened my eyes in confusion, and found myself being borne out of the watery depths, a bubble of air surrounding my body. A strand of kelp still clung sadly to my ankle, now severed from whatever had been dragging me to my death. I looked around, confused, and found huge Pokémon swimming next to me.
I didn’t recognize it, but it was clearly a Water-type of some kind, with the way it expertly manipulated the surrounding ocean to propel itself. It had a single fin projecting from its back, a curly tail, and a splendid pair of horns sprouting from its skull.
Its eyes looked gentle, as they checked me over, but that flipped in an instant as more strands of kelp reared up around us. That kind gaze turned murderous, and gouts of Draconic energy surrounded us, the underwater twister destroying the encroaching fronds. The Pokémon’s snout glowed gold for a moment, and then a brilliant, shimmering sphere emerged from the end of it.
The ball of energy floated forwards a meter or so, and then exploded into an array of molten projectiles, that somehow both flash-boiled and traveled through the surrounding water.
They made impact with some unseen thing beneath the kelp fronds, and then every single strand around us began vibrating, as if enraged.
I lost sight of any further action, as the sphere of water surrounding me rose up, out of the ocean. In a moment, it was meters free of the surface of the roiling water below, and then, it popped.
This time, I did have time to scream, just for a moment, before I landed on something fluffy and soft, my fall completely arrested. I looked down, and found myself atop a beautiful Altaria, the fuzzy dragon ascending above the ocean waves with gentle strokes of its cloud-like wings. It let out a gentle coo, maybe trying to comfort me, and then turned to stare warily down at the roiling water below.
All the energy drained out of me all at once, and I fell into the soft fluff of the Altaria’s magnificent, downy feathers. For what felt like an hour, but was probably only a minute, all I could do was heave long breaths of glorious air. I felt like I had to puke and also cry and also scream all at once, but my throat was too paralyzed to do any of those things, so it defaulted to desperately sucking in air instead.
I’m not sure how much longer I would have laid on my savior’s back, insensate, if it weren’t for the terrifying roar that filled my ears. It was filled with so much anger, so much rage, so much indignation. If it’d been directed at me, I think my heart might have literally stopped.
I could tell, however, that the ire wasn’t pointed my way. Instead, it was directed at the unseen denizen of the depths haunting the kelp forest. And yet, for all its menace, the echo of Cutter’s displeasure hadn’t even had time to fade before it was answered in turn. From the water emerged a deep, bone-creaking groan that seemed to reverberate for kilometers.
I couldn’t look away any longer, and levered myself up. The Altaria I was riding had started ascending again, even as huge strands of kelp and seaweed snaked up out of the water. Chunks of metal lay intertwined in the swaying fronds, anchors and ship’s wheels and the other detritus from a dozen wrecks, swinging and falling around like enormous flails.
And darting in and out between them were two Pokémon, a crimson blue that I could barely make out as a Salamence, and a green Dragon-type of a kind I didn’t recognize. It had crimson, bug-like eyes and a haunting howl that swept up around it as it conjured swirling columns of sand from the ocean floor below.
Pillars of water exploded, fronds of kelp shredded and torn as the Water-type that had saved me generated several churning twisters that swept around it like a blender, mulching any questing vines and demolishing their steel implements with terrible screeches.
Drake’s Salamence was almost impossible to see as it flew so close to the water a wake formed behind and beneath it. It was covered in a corona of glowing energy that obliterated any seaweed that dared not get out of the way.
I couldn’t be sure, but I thought I saw a black coat, nestled on the back of that crimson blur. Drake, astride his partner’s back, giving expert instructions as they whirled through the air at stomach-churning speeds.
Even my mount got in on the action, calling forth a raging pillar of wind that it directed to slam into any fronds that strayed to close.
Awed at the display of power below me, I turned reflexively to say something to my knights. With a start, I remembered that I’d left them on the stone outcropping below. I whirled around, looking for the stone, and finally found it, or rather its remains. It’d been smashed apart by a massive anchor, the rusting projectile still lodged in the now much smaller boulder. My heart went into my chest, before I noticed that there was no sign of Cutter, or my knights. Drake must have recalled them, and brought them with him when he hopped on his Salamence.
Instead, I release the Yowashi, clutching them close to my chest. “Sorry to catch you without warning,” I said, or tried to say. Instead, I coughed a few times, only getting the words out after a few false starts. “I did it to protect you, but I think we’re both safe now.”
“Washi,” the Water-type replied. I couldn’t tell what they meant, but I thought maybe they sounded relieved.
“My mentor’s protecting us. I think he’s mad,” I said quietly. I gestured down at the carnage below, and the little fish watched the action with wide eyes.
The seaweed strands had descended beneath the waves, trying vainly to escape the rage of Drake’s dragons, but their fury was undeterred. Bright explosions turned the once-peaceful ocean into a veritable warzone, each of the former champion’s monsters belching horrendous gouts of energy into the blue water, trying to torch any hint of the seaweed monstrosity.
Their grim work took another ten minutes. There was a short lull, in the middle, when the four of them collected up and Drake issued further orders, but the command was simple. Every piece of kelp from one delineated part of the sea to another was to be annihilated.
When all was said and done, Drake and I sat once again on the much-reduced rocky outcropping, surrounded by panting Dragons. Towards the end, whatever had been manipulating the seaweed had tried retreating deep, deep into the water below, but Drake’s Kingdra (the Water-type that had rescued me, apparently) had used hydrokinesis to pry the monstrosity free from the depths.
I wasn’t exactly sure what I’d been expecting, but it wasn’t what we got, that was for sure. The final form of the creature that had almost killed me was a gnarled band of kelp, wrapped so tightly around a steel buoy that I couldn’t meaningfully differentiate the two.
The whole mass writhed and churned in a way that made me sick, and I felt a malevolent hatred roiling off the thing in waves, directed at Drake, me, the dragons, and maybe just the world in general.
The former champion had issued just one simple command: “Burn it.” Bright gouts of flame, both standard and draconic, had erupted from his partners’ mouths, boiling the ball of water surrounding the monster, and then tearing through it, and into the squirming mass of seaweed.
It let loose a soul-wrenching howl, and tried to reach out to us with its seaweed tendrils. The noise was crashing waves and groaning metal and dark, cruel hatred all at once. It made my skin crawl and my heart rise up into my throat, but the monsters’ death-throws were all in vain. When all was said and done, the only thing remaining of the creature was a twisted, melted hunk of steel.
And then, finally, it was done.
The worst casualty wasn’t actually my ankle, which throbbed painfully, but rather Drake’s Flygon (the green Dragon that so masterfully manipulated the ocean sands). The powerful Pokémon had been struck by an errant anchor, and then knocked unconscious by the follow-up blow.
And wasn’t that horrendous, one of the strongest trained Pokémon in the world, taken out in two attacks.
“What… what was that?” I asked Drake, my voice still hoarse from the ordeal.
The old sailor spat into the surf, “A Dhelmise. Kelp ghost.” He chewed his lip, “They’re not usually that bad, especially this close to shore, but they’re like Jellicent. There’s no top-end to either of them, damn Ghost-types. They’ll keep growing and growing, until something kills them.”
“You killed it?” It was half-question, half-accusation. I knew he had. I saw him do it. But even in spite of the fact that it had almost taken my life, something about the idea of my mentor slaying the creature made parts of me rebel.
“I did,” to his credit, the former champ didn’t hesitate, made no excuses. “I’d do it again, too. Hell, I’d have done it even if it hadn’t attacked you.” The old sailor sighed, and it was long and oh-so weary. “You can’t leave a Dhelmise alone, when they get to that size. They’re ship-killers. One like that? It would have taken over this whole kelp field in a few decades, and eaten everything that lived in it. Then, it would have started expanding, growing larger and larger. There are some out there in the deep waters, Fe. They stretch up from the ocean floor, dozens of kilometers across and almost as tall. You can’t sail within a hundred kilcks of those places, because if you do, an anchor will sink your ship faster than you can scream out SOS.”
I flinched at his last sentence, and the old sailor winced. “Sorry, bad turn of phrase. C’mom, let’s get you to shore,” he gestured out, and his Salamence began descending.
I turned to look at the fish in my hands, “Thanks for trying to rescue me, Yowashi. You were incredibly brave.”
The diminutive Water-type actually blushed, and shook its head negatively.
“No, seriously. I saw you make a choice down there, and even if you couldn’t help me, the fact that you tried at all," I took a shuddering breath, "that's what matters. You didn’t have to do that, but you did. Thank you.” I rubbed my hand over the little fish’s soft scales, trying to convey just a little bit of my appreciation.
The Yowashi looked at me, its eyes growing tearful, before they finally broke over, fat, luminescent globules washing over my hands.
“Listen, we’re going back to shore, so I can release you here if you want, or somewhere else, if that’s better for you,” I explained.
Frantically, the Yowashi shook their head, their tears redoubled.
“So… not here?” I tried.
They shook their head again.
“Do you… do you want to come with me?” I asked, my voice cracking.
The Yowashi’s tears continued unabated, as they nodded.
I stared at the little fish, before I noticed their visage growing blurry. I realized with a start that my own eyes were watering up. Fat droplets spilled down onto my cheeks, and I started choking up. I tried to take a breath, and instead sucked in a wracking sob.
Yowashi began crying in earnest, and I hugged them close to my chest, taking comfort in their proximity as I began to do the same. Crying because we’d been helpless. Crying because we’d almost died.
Crying because we were still alive.
