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One would assume that, given how he has spent the past few months, Emmet would know better than to offer his help without first checking what it is he’s getting into.
And yet, here he is, slumped against the edge of the ship, exhausted after another long day of hauling in nets. He can faintly hear the boatswain hollering at the other workers on board, likely informing them that they would be heading to shore for the night.
The cold winter air cuts straight through his coat, heavy as it may be, and he suppresses a shiver. It’s pure stubbornness that keeps him above deck by now, Phantump having wisely phased through the floor some time ago.
Casting his gaze out to sea, he can spot a number of temporary shelters set up on the islet by other fishermen working in the area. The small campfires scattered across the shore illuminate the silhouettes of others who had already settled in for the night, and as they make their approach, the wind carries with it the smell of magikarp cooking.
He resists the urge to sigh. He doesn’t think he was a huge fan of fish before, but by now he’s absolutely sick of it. As pleasant as it may smell, you can only have magikarp so many times before it starts wearing on your taste buds, and he’s half tempted to make his way further inland in search of something else substantial enough to make a meal out of.
Against his better judgment, he ponders what else he could find, mouth watering at the prospect of fresh food. Smoked slowpoke tail would be good, and it's easy enough to get. If he asks nicely, a chansey might be willing to part with an egg, as well. There are plenty of berry trees as well - he could attempt a curry, maybe?
Ah. There go his dreams of a nice dinner, thwarted by his lack of cooking skill.
He sighs heavily, leaning further over the ship’s edge to gaze mindlessly into the dark water.
A bitter part of his subconscious mutters that he could have probably swam to Kalos by now, but he shakes the thought off. It may only be a couple days to sail that far south, but there weren’t any ships willing to take passengers for free, and considering the… tense relationship he has with the factory owners and mining companies farther north, his only options for earning money were hopping on board a trawler or picking up fieldwork in Turffield, which he knew he would be ill-suited for.
He isn’t out of shape, per se. Simply verrry unused to manual labor. It took long enough to get used to working on the ship, even if most of what he did was learn how to tie knots and mend trawls when the odd kingler got caught and tore the net.
At least Phantump has been enjoying itself, practicing Leech Seed on the occasional water-type that wanders too close to the ship.
(Emmet had briefly entertained the idea of recruiting one to join his team, but quickly decided that he’d had enough of fish.)
He’s drawn from his thoughts by the rocking of the ship as the anchor is lowered, and quickly follows the rest of the crew ashore. As they set foot on solid ground for the first time in upwards of a week, he longingly thinks back to the train station in Motostoke. He is getting verrry tired of boats.
A polite smile to the other fishermen making themselves at home around the small cookfires and he makes his way further out onto the island, Phantump trailing after him. He enjoys working with other people, really! It is just that spending all his time around a group of people, with absolutely no privacy whatsoever… he’s a bit worn out, to say the least.
He hums to himself quietly as he continues his march further into the wilds, watching his breath fog in the air as the sun sets fully. A chill settles over him, and Phantump drifts closer to tuck itself against his side with a quiet wooo.
“We will not stay out too long,” he reassures it. “Just a bit of quiet before we go back.”
Making their way to a copse of trees, he reaches up to grab a berry, handing it off for the ghost to munch on as they walk. Through the branches he can see other Pokémon wandering about, although they steer clear of the two as they pass by.
It’s peaceful, just the sound of tree limbs clattering against each other in the wind and the occasional distant chatter of wild skwovet.
He takes a deep breath, relishing in the clear air before turning to head back. As he does so, though, a flash of light sparks in the corner of his eye.
Reflexively, he pulls the edge of his coat up to cover Phantump, turning away from the source to protect the vulnerable grass-type, not for the first time thanking whatever craftsman thought to make it out of flame-resistant fabric.
As soon as the light fades, he glances back over his shoulder at their opponent.
It’s with utter delight that he realizes it’s a bug-type - bug/fire, he assumes, if the Ember attack is anything to go by.
He doesn’t recognize it beyond a vague sense of familiarity, although that’s not unusual. As he watches, it waves one of its six stubby legs at him, and he realizes with pure joy that it’s asking for a battle.
Already his mind is going over strategies, excited at the prospect of a proper fight. He spins to face it fully, gently nudging Phantump forward encouragingly.
“Prepare for departure, Phantump! Start off with an Astonish!"
It gives a small nod, turning back to him before whipping around to headbutt the bug with a shout. It retaliates with String Shot, webbing wrapping its way around Phantump and slowing it down.
“Verrry good!” he calls proudly. “Be careful, though! It has a double type advantage against you, so dodge if you can, okay?”
It turns back to warble at him in determined acknowledgement, fruitlessly attempting to wipe some of the webbing off its branches.
“Hmm…” He takes a moment to think, going over the limited moveset Phantump has at the moment. “It is a bug and fire type, so grass moves will be verrry ineffective. Try for a Tackle!”
It rushes forward, bodily throwing its dense wooden head against the opponent. As it pulls back, though, Emmet can see a spark come off the bug’s white fur and catch on one of Phantump’s leaves.
He curses quietly at the burn, but still smiles in reassurance when it turns back to look at him. “It must have the Flame Body ability. Unfortunately, almost all your moves make contact, so it is an unavoidable risk. I have faith in you, though! Do your best!”
Phantump chirps back at him, bracing against whatever move the enemy might use next. It had paused to watch the exchange, but seeing the attention placed back upon it, it draws itself up and spits a small Ember at the grass-type.
It falls short, though, as Phantump drifts slightly higher to dodge.
“Oh!” Emmet shouts excitedly, flapping his hands and bouncing on his toes. “Verrry good! Excellent work! Try another Astonish!”
Even as it’s hurt by its burn, Phantump is heartened by the encouragement, and Astonishes its opponent. The bug flinches back, not enough to stop it from its next move, but enough to indicate a strong move - a critical hit, then!
It fires back another Ember, this time making contact. Phantump cringes backward with a small cry as its leaves are singed, and Emmet winces in sympathy. Despite its injuries, it reaches up and pulls a small berry off one of its branches, thankfully untouched by the burn. He thinks quickly back to what the last berry it had eaten was, glancing behind him to squint at the tree in question. It’s gotten properly dark by now, so he can’t make it out at this distance, but he turns back to see the small burn heal over. A rawst berry, then.
“Hmm… Try Leech Seed!” It’s only one-quarter effective, but at the very least it will allow Phantump to regain some health after each turn.
It spits a few seeds at the bug, watching them take hold in its fur and begin sprouting. It hisses in response and attempts to shake them loose, but to no avail. It glares up at Phantump before flames burst out from the horns radiating off its body, scuttling over and jumping up to hit the grass-type with a Flame Charge.
It’s clear that Phantump is significantly worse for wear, but it’s determined to see this battle through to the end, and Emmet couldn’t be more proud.
The Leech Seed restores a sliver of health, but it’s still clear what the outcome will be. Phantump has the energy for one more Tackle, only for it to pick up another burn as it makes contact. It sags slightly, sinking lower to the ground, and it’s evident that it’s had enough.
“Phantump is unable to battle!” Emmet calls reflexively, pointing one hand out at his own Pokémon and the other down at the bug-type. “The wild Pokémon wins!”
Dropping his arms, he swiftly makes his way over to Phantump, digging a few loose berries out of his pockets. It hums gratefully as it takes a bite out of another rawst berry, and he turns to kneel next to the wild Pokémon.
“Thank you for battling with me today!” he says, handing it a sitrus berry. “It was fun, and you are verrry strong! I have not had any battles just for fun in a verrry long time. It was getting boring.”
He sits back, passing another sitrus berry to Phantump when it floats back over to him. The bug-type chitters at Phantump, and it whistles back a response.
Emmet watches this back and forth for a moment before the other Pokémon shuffles its way over to crawl onto his lap.
“Oh, would you like to join our train? I would welcome you aboard, but I should warn you that we will be traveling verrry far.” He pets it for a moment, running his hand through its familiar fur as it looks up and chirps questioningly at him. “I am looking for someone. I do not remember who! But I know he is important. A man in black, I think. We will be on a boat for a while, and I do not think water will agree with you very much. Are you sure you wish to share our tracks?”
It chitters more aggressively, reaching up to tap at his face with its tiny legs. He laughs, picking it up properly and standing to make his way back to the rest of the crew.
“We are a three-car train, yup! Our destination remains set!”
Phantump gives a little cheer, floating alongside them even as it bites into another berry that Emmet definitely does not remember giving to it, but he’ll let it slide because he’s proud.
“By the Swords, Emmet, you picked up another stray?”
“Yup!” he replies cheekily. “I do not know what it is, but we’re friends now.”
Some of the crew members laugh heartily at his attitude, while others are too unsettled by the massive furry bug in his arms to find much humor in the situation.
“That’s a wormadam, innit?” the captain mutters around a pipe. Their own tangela waves a vine in greeting from its seat next to the fire.
The boatswain waves a hand and corrects them around a mouthful of magikarp. “Nah, mate, that’s a larvesta, yeah?”
“That sounds right, I think,” another fisher adds.
They continue talking, but Emmet tunes them out in favor of taking a seat by the fire and grabbing a plate of grilled magikarp.
“Hello, Larvesta! I am Emmet! Thank you for the battle. I look forward to working with you.”
It chirrups up at him, squinting happily, and he pulls it closer for a moment, enjoying the warmth it provides against the winter chill.
He eyes his plate for a moment.
“... What are your thoughts on magikarp?”