Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Voyage Log, Day 31

I never expected to be writing this entry. I was sure that after last night, I would either be on my way home to Hocotate, or…

Well. My attempted launch was a failure. The S.S. Dolphin lacked necessary parts to escape this planet's gravitational pull. Though I survived my second crash, my suit would cease filtering out the oxygen around me by morning. I spent what I was sure would be my final hours staring up at the stars, bidding a silent farewell to the family I left behind. 

I'm still trying to process what happened after that. Maybe if I record every detail I can remember, I can begin to make sense of it all. 

---

The Pikmin found me early this morning, that much I'm sure of. I was barely conscious, unable to move, aware of only a swarm of tiny hands around me and a suffocating fire in my lungs. I couldn't tell where they were taking me until I saw a bright red blur above me — the Red Onion. 

The Pikmin had carried me back to their Onions before, a few times. It seemed to be a sort of game to them. The Onion would pretend to suck me up, I'd bounce off the bottom of it, and it would release a shower of harmless sparks.

This time, it took me in. All I remember after that is a blinding light…

When I next awoke, I found myself buried from the nose down. I think that would have been distressing, before, but… It was oddly comforting. I felt the warmth of the sun, the firm embrace of the soil, and for a few brief moments, all was right with the world. 

Then I felt something tugging at my stem, and I remember thinking… 'I didn't have one of those before, did I?'

Before I could finish that thought, I was plucked from the ground, and met with a crowd of cheering Pikmin. That was when I realized the language barrier between us had abruptly fallen. Amid the cacophony of overlapping voices, I could make out a common meaning: "Saved! We saved!"

A red Pikmin standing beside me (presumably the one who had plucked me moments prior) must have picked up on my confusion, as it elaborated on the cheers: 

"You saved us. Now we saved you."

It then took my hand and led me inside the Onion, saying something about it being time to rest. I couldn't argue that. 

The inside of the Onion felt impossibly large. Its curved walls were lined top to bottom with oblong holes, some of which were occupied by sleeping Pikmin. In the centre, there was a ball of warm red light. The Pikmin at my side led me to a specific hole, larger than the rest, just above the floor. While the other holes were mostly unadorned, this one was lined with an assortment of greenery.

"Look," it told me. "Your sleepy nook! We filled with soft cozy moss!!"

I haven't yet left my new sleeping nook. The moss is indeed soft and cozy. 

---

In short, the Pikmin saved my life by somehow converting me into one of them. If that were all, I could understand. We did clearly establish something of a symbiotic relationship over the past 30 days, after all. But the moss… They didn't need to go out of their way to scavenge all this just to make me a cozier nook. 

The moss means I am loved. 

I don't yet know how to feel about that. 

Chapter Text

Voyage Log, Day 32

The Pikmin nudged me out of my nook this morning, insisting that I'd feel better in the sunlight. They weren't wrong about that — am I capable of photosynthesis now? — but I still found myself aimlessly wandering the Impact Site, unsure of what to do with myself with neither my driving goal nor looming deadline behind me.

Apparently I spent long enough staring forlornly at the wreckage of the S.S. Dolphin that the Pikmin took notice. One of the red ones rallied the rest, and they soon had the ship upright and in no greater disrepair than it was in two days ago. They all looked so proud of themselves as they assured me they would still help me fix my… "mom".

I wasn't sure I'd heard them right. My mom? But it turns out that's how the Pikmin refer to their own Onions, and they assumed I had the same relationship to my ship. Frankly, correcting them sounds like more trouble than it's worth, so I'll just adjust to their terminology…

With that confusion straightened out, though… I do still want to repair the Dolphin, despite everything. Even if I am unable to fully return to my life on Hocotate in my current state… If there's any chance I can at least say a proper goodbye to my family, I have to try, don't I?

(Of course, this requires me to pilot the Dolphin into orbit again tonight. Something feels off about it now. I think it's the lack of moss.)

Voyage Log, Day 33

Today we landed in the Distant Spring, resuming our quest to fully repair the S.S. Dolphin. Now that I'm not on any real time limit, I see no reason not to collect every last part, even the less essential ones… 

Early this morning, I was dragged to a cluster of grass, and invited to help pluck it and partake in the nectar it yielded. I must admit, it felt good just to do something with my own hands (so long as I didn't focus on how different they looked). And the nectar… Impossibly sweet and invigorating. I haven't seen it yet, but I must have a white flower atop my head now.

Unfortunately, I am not a Blue Pikmin, and I no longer have a spacesuit to protect me from drowning. I feared this would be detrimental to exploring the far reaches of the Spring, but my improved communication with the Pikmin made up for it in the end. Now that I can give the Blue Pikmin more specific commands than throwing them and whistling at them, I can instruct them from the safety of the shoreline.

I wonder though, what exactly happened to my suit…? The Red Onion might still have it, if it's intact at all. I'll have to ask tomorrow.

Chapter Text

Voyage Log, Day 34

I did find my space suit in the Red Onion this morning, almost as soon as I mentioned to the Pikmin I was looking for it. I've heard talking through your problems can help solve them, but I may have underestimated just how widely applicable that idea can be! It was lying so close to my sleeping nook, I'm not sure how I overlooked it before...

The suit's in surprisingly good shape, all things considered. The life support systems are out of power, of course, but there's no damage so severe that it can't be repaired once I get the Dolphin up and running again. The Repair-type Bolt we recovered today should help with that.

And it even still fits me! ...Mostly. It's a little loose in places, a bit snug in others, and it was particularly tricky getting the helmet on over my new stem... I got it on for just long enough to see that I could before taking it off again. It's not as though I need it to breathe, now...

There's not much practical reason to wear the rest of my suit, as it's not watertight without the helmet on, but... I kept it on all day anyway. The familiarity was a comfort I sorely missed. Looking down at my gloved hands, it was as if all that had changed about me was I'd lost a bit of weight. My wife always says I ought to do that anyway!

My wife... I will see you again. I promise. Just wait for me a bit longer...

Voyage Log, Day 35

I'm starting to get used to some of the Pikmin's eccentricities. They don't concern themselves with long-term worries. Outside of nearby predators or other imminent threats to their lives, I haven't seen anything truly upset them. When they have nothing else to do, they frolic through the leaves with childlike whimsy! I might have to join them at some point. I could certainly use the stress relief...

I'm not sure I'll ever get used to hearing some of their word choices, though. Ever since I... Since they saved me, I've had an instinctive sense of what they mean when they speak, but I'm starting to doubt the accuracy of my attempts at direct Pikmin-to-Hocotatian translations. Is "Mom" really the right word for what they call their Onions, or is it just the closest concept my language has? The Onions do function as incubators for the Pikmin, as well as providing them shelter at night, so I guess it's not too far off. And if I tell them "go to your Mom", they know to stand by their Onion, so the translation must at least work well enough both ways.

The thing is, I overheard one of the Pikmin chattering as it helped carry back the UV Lamp we retrieved today. It was directing the rest of its squad to the Dolphin, or as they called it, "Dad's Mom". The Dolphin is my Mom, which means their word for me is "Dad"...

Have they been calling me "Dad" this whole time? They did always seem so fond of me, even before I could understand them... Did they even have a word for "Dad" before? Am I filling a previously vacant role in their hierarchy, or did they create one around me? How much has my presence here irrevocably altered their lives? ...Would they get along with my kids?

Voyage Log, Day 36

We retrieved the Massage Machine today. I'd been looking forward to using it to relieve the lower back pain that so often plagues me, but as I watched the Pikmin carry it back to the Dolphin, I realized... My back doesn't hurt anymore. I don't think it has since I... Perhaps whatever the Onion did to me healed my back as a side effect? I'd been so preoccupied with everything else, I hadn't even noticed.

I also found a strange metal disk in the grass while we were foraging for nectar. It has no obvious purpose, but I like how it looks, and it's light enough for me to carry alone. If I — no, when I make it back to Hocotate, it will make a fine souvenir for my family there.

At last, but a single part remains, and the near-complete Dolphin soars ever higher above the landscape. It's maddening to think of how close I was. If only I'd had a few more days, or if I'd been more efficient, I could have been home by now... But I shouldn't spend too long dwelling on what-ifs. In the forest depths below, I see a region where the final part must lie. Clearly this is our final trial.

Chapter Text

Voyage Log, Day 37

Most of the day was spent scouting out the new area. This whole region is one big puzzle box! I'm not sure how I would have managed to direct my Pikmin through it with only my whistle...

The yellow Pikmin I worked with today were extra cautious around the bomb-rocks, even before I could warn them. I still have nightmares about the first time we tried to use them — the day I learned how the Onions respond when every Pikmin of their colour are wiped out. And the size of a bomb-rock's blast radius, of course. But these Pikmin shouldn't have any way of recalling those lessons. Did they learn from their Mom, somehow? Even now, the Pikmin hold so many mysteries! Though I suppose I could have just asked them directly...

The Dolphin's radar indicates that the last ship part is in the circle of sand at the far end of this area. But all I saw when we made it there was a suspicious growth, that looked almost like... eye stalks... I decided to save that problem for tomorrow, rather than rush headlong into possible danger. I can afford to take my time now, after all.

Voyage Log, Day 38

After a long, grueling battle against the most formidable creature we've faced thus far, we were able to retrieve my Secret Safe. Finally, the S.S. Dolphin is fully restored, and I can make my way back to Hocotate!

This is what I've spent these 38 long days fighting for, and yet... It doesn't feel right to leave the Pikmin behind, after everything. But I must. For everyone waiting for me back home... If nothing else, even if my current body is ill-suited to remain on Hocotate, I must see my family in person one last time.

As I record this log from the comfort of my pilot's seat, I can see the Onions ascending behind me, bidding me farewell. There are more than just the ones I travelled with, including some in colours I haven't seen before. I wonder what sort of Pikmin they carry... Just thinking of all the possibilities is making me feel... light-headed...

No...

Something is wrong.

I can't–

I can't breathe–

Chapter Text

Voyage Log, Day 39 (morning)

I crash-landed onto the Pikmin planet.

Again.

At least the Onions saw me fall, and followed me to the surface. This area is wholly unfamiliar to me, but with my Pikmin at my side, we can surely survive anywhere.

Another small mercy is that the Dolphin is still intact this time, albeit dented. It should be able to repair itself by sundown. That gives me the rest of the day to figure out what went wrong last night, and to find a solution...

Voyage Log, Day 39 (evening)

I met someone today, while on a walk to clear my head. They had a Pikmin squad of their own, and they were covered in white foliage. It appears I'm not the first "Dad" on this planet after all... They offered to train me in the art of dandori, but I had to decline for now. Not that I couldn't benefit from improving my efficiency — if I'd had better dandori skills in the first place, I wouldn't be in this mess — but I refuse to delay my departure any longer than necessary. I'll make a note of where they live, though, so I can take them up on their offer later.

Other than that encounter, I spent the day working out what went wrong with that last launch. It seems I underestimated the extent of my physical changes. I had thought that I'd been made tolerant of the oxygen present in this planet's atmosphere, akin to a Koppaite. So I wasn't concerned when, as I left the planet's atmosphere, the Dolphin's air filters began removing the oxygen that had accumulated inside the ship.

But after running analyses, I've found the truth is far more concerning. The foliage that now covers my body actively consumes oxygen through its respiration processes. It can even produce small quantities of oxygen as a byproduct of photosynthesis, as long as I'm exposed to enough light...

The very poison that doomed me is now vital to my survival.

Armed with that knowledge, I was able to invert a few functions of my space suit's life support systems, to keep oxygen circulating around me. If I'm to survive back on Hocotate — or any civilized planet outside of possibly Koppai — I'll need to keep my suit on. Thank goodness the helmet still fits, even if it isn't the most comfortable...

Even with this setback, I still intend to return to Hocotate. I can't turn back now. I'll never be able to kiss my wife again, but the least I can do is to apologize in person. To hold her one last time. To tell my children about my ill-fated adventure, and give them that souvenir... Maybe I can even upgrade the Dolphin's communications radius while I'm at the shipyard, so we can keep in touch...

Voyage Log, Day 40

The modifications were a success, as was my third attempt at escaping the planet's atmosphere. I'm officially en route to Hocotate!

The ship's UV Lamp may not have been strictly required before, but now I can use it for photosynthesis! I just hope it's enough to supplement the last of my space noodle stash until I can resupply. Oh, how I wish I could taste my wife's cooking again...

My wife... She... She has a name...

Of course she does. Everyone on Hocotate does! It's...

It's...

Why...

Why can't I...

...

What have I become?