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Emmet is beginning to grow rather frustrated. He has spent the past three hours walking up and down the beach, all in search of a Pokémon capable of learning Surf.
Why, you may ask?
Because of distortion-damned Fourrage River.
During the two day trip from Galar to Kalos, he kept himself occupied by planning his search itinerary around the region. He’d managed to get his hands on a map, and had put a considerable amount of effort into plotting out his tracks - land in Shalour, go north to Coumarine, and continue clockwise around the region until he was back where he started, and he could go onward from there.
But upon coming ashore, he was informed that in order to reach Coumarine, he would have to cross the wide river snaking its way from the bay to the heart of the region.
And sure, he could go south and make his way counterclockwise around the region, but that would mean rearranging his schedule and completely tossing the plan he had made. Considering the lack of stability he’s been dealing with in terms of where the hell he is and where the hell he’s going, the last thing he wants is to disrupt this shred of control he has over his travels.
So maybe he’s being stubborn. But he refuses to change course, even in the face of a roadblock so soon on his journey. His tracks have been set and by the Dragons, he will follow them to the end! No disruptions, no delays!
… As soon as he gets a Pokémon to Surf on.
He pauses, halting his pacing for a moment. He can see the occasional alomomola and remoraid surface in the distance, and while they can learn Surf, they aren’t particularly suited to carry a person of his height.
(In all honesty, he just doesn’t want his coat getting too wet, but that might be unavoidable at this point.)
He collapses onto the sand with a huff, leaning back on his hands and staring up at the sky. It’s getting late in the day, and the air rolling off the sea brings with it the chill of late winter. He suppresses a shiver and sighs dramatically, flopping to lie on his back. Larvesta scuttles up from where it had been following his tracks in the sand and crawls up to settle on his chest.
He runs his fingers through its fur, grateful for the warmth it provides even if it’s a bit too heavy to be comfortable.
Distantly he can hear Phantump splashing about, trilling playfully at the wild Pokémon. Perhaps it has the right idea - if he wants to find a Pokémon to Surf with, he might be better off just walking out into the water and asking.
But he rrrreally doesn’t want to get wet…
But if he doesn’t do this, he’ll be admitting defeat by letting his plans be thwarted by something so simple as a river…
He lifts Larvesta up over his head with a grunt, staring up at it.
“I am Emmet. I do not want to go swimming. It is cold. But I don’t think I have a choice.”
It chitters down at him, wiggling its legs.
“You’re right. I have to do this! Being cold and wet is a small price to pay for keeping on track!”
He sits up, shedding his coat and placing the bug atop it.
As he stands and begins taking off his extra layers, he points dramatically at Larvesta. “If I get hypothermia, it is entirely your fault.”
It simply snuggles deeper into the fabric of his coat, purring quietly.
Toeing off his shoes and rolling up his pant legs, he takes a deep breath and begins walking into the sea.
And immediately regrets it.
“I can’t believe I let you convince me to do this!” he calls back, even as he steps further into the freezing water with a shiver. “This is terrrrrrible. Why am I doing this.”
Larvesta chirps innocently from its place on his warm and dry coat.
The water is almost up to his knees by now, the slow waves sloshing up to dampen the edge of his pants. Phantump floats over from where it had been hovering further out, humming encouragingly at him.
He pats its head with a smile, giving it a little scritch at the base of its horns. “Thank you verrry much, Phantump. You are a very good motivator.”
It trills up at him happily, grabbing hold of one of his hands to pull him out to deeper waters. He follows cautiously, keeping a close eye on the seafloor below him. He rrreally does not want to step on something unpleasant.
Eventually Phantump stops, circling around before splashing him playfully.
He gives a scandalous gasp. “Phantump! My own Pokémon! How could you betray me like this!” He splashes it back, laughing as it squeals and tries to fly out of range.
He trails after it, slowly trudging against the waves. “This is verrry unfair, you know! I am Emmet. I cannot levitate. Are you aware of water resistance? This is harder than it looks.” At least the effort it takes to keep moving helps him stave off the cold a bit, but that might just be his limbs going numb.
“It is verrry cold. Verrrrrrrry cold,” he mutters to himself.
Phantump drifts back over with a worried coo, gently patting his face, to which he responds with a gentle headbutt.
“I am okay!” he reassures. “Just a bit c-cold.”
It hums, unconvinced, and tries to push him in the direction of the shore.
“No, I have to keep looking. If I do not find a Pokémon I can Surf with, I will not be able to progress. I will not let my engines stall here.” He takes a deep breath, black spots floating at the edge of his vision as his pulse spikes. “I am Emmet. I will keep going. I…”
He feels himself start to sway, and distantly recognizes that this is a verrry bad situation to be in.
“Mmm…maybe I should go back t-to…” Another lungful of air and the sea starts dimming around him as Phantump lets out a worried cry.
Oh, he thinks, mind fading into unconsciousness, I may have screwed myself.
Blinking sluggishly, Emmet stares up at the twilight sky from his place on the beach. He slowly takes stock of how he’s feeling.
Salt crusted in his hair, sand stuck to his limbs, a chill settled deep in his bones, damp clothes, a heavy weight on his chest, his ears ringing slightly.
In short: not very good!
He grumbles quietly, lifting a hand to try and rub the gross feeling of dried saltwater from his face. At the very least he recognizes the weight as Larvesta, and he gratefully accepts the warmth, sitting up a bit to bury his face in its furry body.
“I am Emmet. This was a mistake. I am cold.”
His words come out muffled, lost in the fluff of his Pokémon. He shivers, and he can feel Larvesta start humming quietly as it tries to generate more heat. He mumbles a quiet thanks to the fire-type.
He sits there for a moment longer, too cold and tired to be frustrated at his lack of results, before pulling himself fully upright with a grunt, Larvesta held close to his chest in an effort to stay warm.
By now, he knows he has to call it a night and go back to the inn by the docks in Shalour. He sets Larvesta down in his lap for a moment so he can pull on his outer layers - button-down, vest, coat, all still blessedly warm from the bug that had been resting on them - and drags himself to standing, limbs weighed down with cold and exhaustion. He can see Phantump fluttering in his periphery, and he hums a quiet greeting as he slips his boots back on.
A distant chirp drags him from the daze he’s in, and he looks out over the water to see a deep blue Pokémon peeking out from just below the surface. He stares at it for a moment before it lifts a fin to wave at him. Phantump waves back with a happy warble, and Emmet, confused as he may be, waves back as well.
It dives below the water, and he just blinks for a moment before turning to make his way back to the town.
The short trip is a blur, mindlessly following the road with Larvesta in his arms until he finally reaches the inn. He steps inside, heaving a sigh of relief at the wave of warmth coming from the hearth inside.
A call comes from behind the bar near the back of the room.
“Merde, mec, on dirait que tu t'es retrouvé du mauvais côté d'un rémoraid!”
He blinks in confusion at the innkeeper, mentally trying to translate the rapid Kallosi.
You look like you found yourself on the wrong end of a remoraid!
Oh. He is still verrry damp. He takes a breath and makes to respond, but finds the words failing to form. A second of struggling to make himself speak before he gives up with a sigh, nodding with a wry smile.
He thinks the innkeeper says something else, but he’s too tired to listen properly, so he shuffles to the room he had paid for earlier and collapses onto the bed. He peels his coat and vest off, still dusted with salt and sand, and can hardly tuck himself under the blankets before he’s asleep, Larvesta nestled against his chest and Phantump curled up at his back.
When he wakes some time later, he feels considerably more refreshed, sunlight streaming in through the gap in the curtains over the window.
As loath as he is to leave the warm nest he’s made of the sheets, the saltwater residue remains stuck to his skin, and he’s eager to stop by the baths available for rent by the back of the inn.
He gets up, moving carefully so as to not disturb his still-sleeping Pokémon, grabbing clean clothes as he passes by his bag sitting by the desk where he left it previously. He combeelines to the baths, tossing the appropriate number of coinage onto the desk of the innkeeper. Impatiently waiting for the water to fill up the basin, he thinks back on his hazy recollection of the evening before.
The cold water must have made him go into shock, which would explain why he had blacked out for a moment. But how did he get back to shore…? Certainly Phantump couldn’t have carried him.
But -
Oh!
The little blue Pokémon! That had waved goodbye when he left!
… What is it called?
He pokes his head out of the door to the washroom, calling out to the innkeeper in stilted Kallosi.
“Hello. J'ai vu un Pokémon hier. C’est plat et bleu. Savez-vous comment ça s'appelle?” If he could think of a better description than “flat and blue” he would have given it, but unfortunately his knowledge of the language isn’t particularly advanced.
The innkeeper squints for a moment, puzzled, before hesitantly replying, “Était-ce une démanta? Ou une babimanta?”
It is at this moment that Emmet realizes the flaw of his approach: he has no clue what the regional names of the Pokémon are.
Regardless, he gives a smile and a quiet “merci!” before closing the door and hopping into the bath.
He curls up in the warm water, letting it ease the aches that the cold weather left in his bones, and sighs.
Démanta… Babimanta?
Baby manta?
…Baby mantine?
…
Mantyke!
He resists the initial urge to stim in excitement, not wanting to splash water all over the floor, so he settles for a small happy wiggle.
He remembered something!
It’s a water-type, he knows that much but… also a flying-type, he thinks? It sounds correct. And considering the fact that just about every Pokémon that can swim is capable of learning Surf, this could very well be the opportunity he’s been looking for! It already showed that it was willing to help him, so hopefully it would be amenable to aiding him in crossing the river!
Tracks set, he quickly washes the dried seawater from his hair and hops out of the basin to get dressed.
Within minutes, he’s packed up his room and gathered his Pokémon, ignoring the quiet chuckle of the innkeeper at his enthusiastic march.
“I am Emmet! I have a plan!” he relays to his Pokémon as he makes his way back to the beach. “I think it was a mantyke that helped me yesterday. I am going to ask if it is willing to help me again.”
Phantump gives a happy warble, patting at his shoulder in excitement.
“Yes! Are you friends? I think I remember you playing together.” He leans down to give it a gentle headbonk, his hands preoccupied with holding Larvesta.
Soon enough, they’re within range of the shore, receding tide leaving seaweed exposed in the sand.
Marching up to the waterline, he sets Larvesta in the sand and calls, “Hello! Mantyke! I am Emmet! I would like to have a word, please!”
For a moment, the only response is the slow crashing of the waves as he stands there, hands on his hips.
Then, finally, he hears a quiet “maaa” from the distance.
There, its antennae poking out of the water, is the mantyke. It surfaces, gliding over the waves towards the shore. Phantump gives a cry in response and flies out to meet it, drifting in circles over its head.
Emmet steps closer, again grateful for his waterproof boots as the ebb and flow of the sea rushes past his heels.
“Hello. Were you the one who helped me yesterday?”
“Maaa.”
“Thank you verrry much. Would you be willing to assist again?”
“Maa?” it croons questioningly.
He points to the northeast. “There is a river blocking my tracks. I need to cross it, but I do not have a Pokémon to Surf with. I would appreciate the help. But you do not have to stay with me afterwards if you do not want to.”
With a friendly cry, it flaps its wings and lifts above the water, swimming through the air to bump against his chest.
“I will take that as a yes!” he chirps, patting its head gratefully with a smile. “All aboard!”
He picks up Larvesta and turns, beginning to make his way back up the road and through Shalour. He turns a few heads with his convoy of Pokémon drifting after him and chattering to each other - he already knows he has something of a reputation for being odd, so he doesn’t particularly care about the attention he draws. He hears the innkeeper call something to him from the doorway of the inn, but he can’t hear it, and he knows he already paid for everything, so he doesn’t think much of it.
Eventually they make it to the river. The damned Fourrage River. At its narrowest point, it can’t be more than ten feet across, but it’s deep enough that he can’t see the bottom through the rushing water, and he knows it would be far too cold to swim across.
He turns to Mantyke. “I realize now that I forgot to ask if you even know h- urgh!”
He’s cut off as the Pokémon bowls him over and scoops him up to settle on its back. He hears Phantump laugh at him, and turns to shoot a playful glare in its direction.
Suddenly, Mantyke gives a loud whistling call and zooms over the edge of the river. Emmet scrambles to hold on, arms wrapped under its torso. Considering it’s half his height, it isn’t the most comfortable ride, and the sliminess of its skin makes maintaining a grip something of a struggle, but it’s strong and determined, and within seconds he’s sliding off his back to the ground of the opposite bank.
Larvesta gives a grumble from where it’s trapped beneath him, and he quickly rolls over before it can heat up to an uncomfortable temperature.
He throws an arm over his eyes, taking a moment to try and catch his breath.
“Thank you, Mantyke,” he wheezes. “Your help is. Appreciated. Even if some warning would have been nice.”
He can hear it chattering with Phantump, and he blindly reaches over to dig through his bag in search of a berry to offer it. He holds it over his head, waving it like a white flag.
“For you. A gift. In thanks.” He feels it pull the berry from his hand to munch on, and he lets his arm drop back to his side. There is a wet slap as it pats his face. “Thanks.”
Slowly, he shuffles upright, staring blankly at where Mantyke and Phantump have begun playing in the water.
“Phantump!” he calls. “Prepare for departure!” He pulls himself to standing, affixing his bag over his shoulder and scooping up Larvesta once more.
As the ghost zooms over, it waves back to Mantyke, and the make their way further down the path towards Coumarine.
… They’re no more than ten steps from the river before Emmet turns around to see Mantyke floating so closely behind them that it bumps into him when they stop.
“Hello. I am Emmet. Do you want another berry?”
It stares up at him.
“Do you… want to come with us?”
It trills happily and does a quick spin in the air.
He sighs, feeling a smile creep across his face.
“Welcome aboard, then!”