Big Fish
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Big Fish
One-shot / 3.7k words / Rated G
i wrote this story for the 2023 zoroark games as an imitation of @Panoramic_Vacuum. i'm not sure how convincing the imitation is, but hopefully the vibes and characterization will be somewhat familiar to fans of her excellent work!
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“I’m dreadfully sorry about this again, darling,” Wallace insisted.“Wallace, I already said it’s okay,” Steven’s voice emanated from the phone. “I have work I need to do anyway. It’s not a big deal, I promise. We can just meet up next weekend.”
“Oh, Steven.” Wallace scowled at his phone. “You always have something you could be working on instead. That’s precisely why we needed to unwind together this weekend. Only now Juan’s gone and ruined it all.”
“I’m sure he had your best interests in mind. What did he say to you?”
“Well, he wiped the floor with my team, of course. It came down to Victoria against his Whiscash. But he refused to fight me like a man! He just kept hitting her with mud slaps, and of course she was so fussed about her mane that she could hardly focus on the battle. It was a dirty trick, pun intended.”
“That doesn’t sound dirty. That just sounds like an ordinary battle to me.”
“Of course you’d take his side,” Wallace groaned, “now that you’re a League man.”
“I’m not taking sides.” Steven sighed.
“Well, after that, he told me I fight too much like a coordinator and not enough like a trainer. Like, what does that even mean? And he’s forcing me to take the boat back to Ever Grande with Drake instead of flying back and getting to spend the evening with you. He wanted me to get some ‘practical experience.’ I’m supposed to report back to him the next day with what I learned. And then I’m back on Gym duty. I just don’t see the point of the whole thing... It’s like he’s punishing me for losing.”
“I don’t think that’s what he’s doing, Wallace,” Steven said. “Drake is one of the most accomplished trainers in Hoenn’s history. I’ve learned a lot from him, and I’m sure you will too. Besides, isn’t water supposed to be your thing? Shouldn’t you be excited to get the chance to spend time on a boat?”
“I don’t see you digging subterranean tunnels to the grocery store, Mr. Stone.”
“Well, one time—”
“Goodness, Steven, you’re hopeless,” Wallace said wearily. “Well, it’s an early morning for me, so I’d best prepare for my beauty sleep.” He bunched his hair cutely even though Steven couldn’t see.
“Good night, Wallace. I hope you enjoy your time with Drake. Give him a chance, okay?”
Wallace blew a strand of hair out of his face. “Whatever you say, Steven. Good night.”
Wallace was drawn to water for its elegance and beauty. There was nothing more simple in its grace, almost divine, than the gentle undulations of a clear stream. It informed his battling style, his contest persona, and even the way he walked and dressed.
There was nothing elegant or beautiful about the Slateport docks. Here the familiar scent of the sea was tarnished by the odors of gasoline and fresh fish, and the calming sounds of the waves and the screeching Wingull were all but drowned out by the blaring of boat horns and the shouting of dockworkers. An enthusiastic band of Vigoroth helped load a stack of crates onto a bobbing pontoon, and their spirited hooting was the worst of all.
It was altogether too much for five in the morning. After a quarter hour standing on the sea-battered dock in the shadow of the S.S. Tidal, Wallace began to consider turning heel. He’d get an earful from Juan, but he was willing to pay that price in exchange for a cup of coffee, a few extra hours of sleep, and a night out with Steven.
Just when his patience had reached its minimum, Wallace spotted the familiar figure of Hoenn’s former champion approaching. Dockworkers and pokémon alike folded out of his way without a word as he advanced.
“You’re right on time,” Drake remarked, polishing his pipe idly. “Juan runs a tight ship, does he?”
“You and your maritime puns,” Wallace said. “You’re almost as bad as Juan.”
Drake’s white bristle mustache twitched. He didn’t seem amused. “We’d best get sailing right away while the wind’s in our favor,” he declared.
Wallace nodded, anxious to board. There were better uses of his day, but at least things would be more peaceful out on the water. The weather was too shabby to sunbathe, but he might get a bit of reading done on the Tidal’s deck.
But as he turned to board, Drake grunted emphatically at him. “Wrong boat, lad,” he said. “That’s Briney’s ship. We’ll be taking mine.” To Wallace’s horror, the old sailor gestured to the craft on the other side of the dock. The puny thing’s stern was totally fouled by barnacles, and its comforts were limited to a peeling leather stool behind the wheel.
“That thing is a death trap,” Wallace protested. “We’re going to sail through the Pacifidlog currents on that? It’s barely twenty feet long!”
“Big enough to do the job,” Drake said with a shrug. “I’ve made this trip many times. Ye don’t need to worry.”
“Absolutely not.” Wallace shook his head. “I’d like my practical experience to be in something useful, thank you very much. I don’t need any more swimming lessons.”
Drake puffed on his pipe for a moment, considering. His next words came from behind a veil of white smoke. “Tough luck,” he said. “There’re matters on Ever Grande that demand my attention, and the ship can’t leave without its captain.”
“Well, by all means,” Wallace said. “You’re the most famous captain in Hoenn. Don’t let me hold you back.”
“Oh, I’m just the navigator today,” Drake said. “You’ll be captain today, lad. So what’ll it be? Permission to board? Or do you wanna send a letter ahead to Steven and let him know we’ll be delayed a day? Your call.”
Wallace stared back at Drake, dumbfounded. “You can’t be serious.”
“Serious as a leak in the hull. Now let’s hit the water, cap’n. You never know when the winds will change.”
Just as Wallace let out a resigned sigh and moved to board, a raindrop splashed onto the tip of his nose. Then another landed on his cheek, and another on his brow.
He made sure his groan was loud enough for Drake to hear.
Fortunately, the rain didn’t last long. After an hour, the clamor of the docks was behind them, and the sun was high and bright enough to warm Wallace’s bones. It turned out captaining wasn’t such tough work, and even though the boat was too rocky for him to comfortably read, the weather was nice and the sounds and smells of the sea put him at ease. He was almost enjoying his time out on the water, even if he was forced to sit on a crusty old barrel full of who-knows-what.
Except, Wallace thought, perhaps things were a little too peaceful. After all, Juan was expecting him to report back with what he’d learned, and Drake hadn’t exactly been forthcoming with useful life advice. What was he supposed to say he’d learned? That the surly old sailor had a serious tobacco problem?
When the sun was nearing its zenith, Drake finally spoke without being spoken to.
“Wallace,” he said, “I need yer help, lad. C’mere.”
Wallace dusted off his cape before approaching the bridge
Drake took one hand off the wheel and pointed a finger out at the sea. “See that?” he asked.
Wallace traced a path from his finger with his eyes and squinted at its terminus. He thought he could make out what the old navigator was referring to—a patch a few dozen meters out where the waters had stilled somewhat and appeared dark and murky. “Yes.”
Drake produced something from his pocket and offered it to Wallace. It was an old brass telescope with worn leather cladding. “Use this to take a closer look and tell me what ye see.”
It took a bit of muscle to fully extend the telescope, and a bit of effort to orient it correctly on the murky spot. “There’s definitely... something down there,” Wallace said.
“Aye.”
“It doesn’t seem like it’s moving. It appears to be... long? I think it’s just floating there... Whoa, now it’s—”
The thing, whatever it was, began to thrash wildly. Just as Wallace lowered his telescope, a column of white foam sprayed from the surface of the water as a creature lunged into the air. There was no mistaking the vibrant blue scales of a fully-grown Gyarados in all its majesty. Its facial fins fanned out as it writhed into the air, jaw gaping, and Wallace swore it flew a hundred feet through the air—rivulets of water streaming off its shining carapace—before crashing back into the waves.
Drake swore loudly. The commotion produced massive ripples in the water, and the waves were fast approaching their dawdling little craft. “Hold on, lad!” he cried as the boat’s stern dipped before the wave’s trough. He gave the wheel a belabored spin and the boat skidded across the wave’s side, clearing its crest and launching into the air.
Wallace’s insides felt like they were in free fall. He let out an involuntary yelp and clutched the side of the boat for dear life as it rocketed back toward the water’s surface. It smacked the waves with a deafening plap, seawater streaming over the gunwale.
Pulse racing, Wallace raised his feet. These were his best shoes.
“That’s Old Glacia,” Drake said as he reoriented the boat. Both hands were white-knuckling the wheel, but he was still puffing wildly on his puff. His eyes were frenzied, scouring the sea for any sign of the marauding Gyarados. “Biggest Gyarados in Hoenn, and meaner than a Walrein in heat. I drove her off years ago, but... looks like she’s back.”
Wallace couldn’t hold back a giggle. “You named the biggest, meanest monster in the sea after Glacia?”
“Eh... Let’s keep that one between us. Sailor’s honor.”
“So what do we do now?” Wallace asked.
“I should be the one asking you, cap’n,” Drake replied. Then his face tightened with surprise. “Thar she blows!”
The Gyarados was cutting through the water straight towards their boat. Its face was just visible beneath the surface; its furious blood-hued eyes seemed to bore right into Wallace’s soul.
Drake let out an exerted grunt as he shoved at the wheel. The boat veered hard right, so sharp that the boat titled toward the starboard side. Wallace held tight to the mast, clenching his jaw.
The mighty Gyarados leaped from the water again. Time seemed to slow. A deluge of water jetted off its back, like a river arcing through the sky. It was mere feet away from their boat; its crimson gaze was fixed soundly on Wallace, face distorted behind a sheet of frothy water. He swore he could feel the heat radiating off its glistening body.
It landed back in the water with a tremendous splash that totally soaked Wallace in frigid water. He gasped for air, grasping blindly at his soggy hat before ripping it off his head. Water streamed from his stringy green hair, stinging his eyes with salt. His feet were waterlogged; there must have been four inches of water in the boat now.
“Awaiting orders!” Drake shouted.
Wallace tried to take a deep breath, but he felt like he couldn’t get enough air into his lungs. He could feel the hammering of his heart in his throat and temples. How was he supposed to take charge when he could barely think straight?
“It’s only a pokémon, lad,” Drake said. “You’re training to be a Gym Leader, aren’t you?”
Wallace opened his mouth to quip back, but stopped. He was right, after all. This was just a pokémon battle. He could do this. With a deep breath, he wiped the water out of his eyes, wrung out his hat, and straightened his back.
“You have a Salamence, right?” he asked.
“Aye.”
“Can we use it?”
“Your wish is my command, cap’n,” Drake said. Salamence appeared in the water with a flash of white. It looked to Drake for an order, pivoting its sickle-like wings to stay level as the waves rocked it. “Do as the captain says, Salamence.”
The dragon let out a rolling growl before launching into the air, water streaming off its limbs as it tucked them under its body. Within seconds it was circling them from above, wings cupped over the ocean draft.
“You’ll want to wrap this up quickly,” Drake cautioned. “We can probably only hop one more wave before the boat fills up.”
“Thank you for the encouragement,” Wallace muttered. “Salamence, find the Gyarados and use dragon rage!” Gyarados was fatally weak to electric-type moves, of course, but it was hardly the wisest thing to strike the sea with a bolt of lightning when you were ankle-deep in seawater yourself.
Salamence located its quandary quickly. It tucked a wing and rocketed toward the sea, dipping just a few feet above the surface and skimming the water with a claw. Blue flames gathered in its maw.
The murky blur that was the Gyarados grew clearer as it approached the surface. As it breached to inspect its new adversary, the Salamence let loose a billowing column of sapphire flame. The Gyarados bellowed in protest, so deep it rattled the boat and Wallace’s skeleton alike, and ducked underwater just in time. The fire bounced uselessly off the water. When the flames subsided, the Gyarados re-emerged a few yards away.
A white light emanated from its throat, and before Wallace could react, it fired off a diamond-white ice beam.
“Get out of there!” Drake shouted. The Salamence ducked out of the way just in time, but it couldn’t have dodged the beam by more than a foot. Wallace realized he was fidgeting with the edges of his cape and forced himself to let go.
“Sorry, cap’n,” Drake added. “Don’t mean to butt in. She’s all yours now. But you’d best be careful.”
Wallace nodded. He’d seen enough ice beams to know that one was strong enough to knock down even a fully-trained Salamence. If it got hit and tumbled into the water, Gyarados would be able to make quick work of it.
“A word of advice if I may,” Drake said. “Yer not gonna get far throwing attacks at Old Glacia willy-nilly. We’re humans on a boat, and she’s a Gyarados in her element. In a fair fight, she’ll win every time. That’s how she got so old and strong.”
“So what?”
“So you need to put her in yer element.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” Wallace demanded. But the old sailor redonned his stoic mask of silence and returned his attention to the steering of the ship.
Wallace gritted his teeth. This felt hopeless. Wasn’t that fish-brained old coot worried at all? Maybe if Wallace did nothing, Drake would be forced to intervene. He wouldn’t capsize his own boat to prove a point, would he?
The Gyarados fired off another ice beam, this one striking the crown of the ship’s mast. A huge ice crystal formed at the top, and the boat tipped slightly to the side. If Drake was concerned, he didn’t show it.
This boat was on its last legs. Maybe he didn’t care at all. Wallace closed his eyes and tried to take deep breaths.
Think like a trainer. Think like a trainer.
What does that even mean?
He thought back to his battle with Juan. Victoria had been so preoccupied with the mud, she’d barely been able to focus on the battle. Wallace had called that underhanded; Juan called it strategic. Wallace had always viewed battles as contests of strength, where the more powerful combatant prevailed.
But the battle-hardened partner of a former League champion almost just got knocked out of the air by a wild pokémon. What did that say about strength?
“I think I have an idea,” Wallace said. “How far are we from the Pacifidlog currents?”
“Not far at all,” Drake said. “We’ve been sailing parallel to them all along.”
“Good. I want you to steer us straight into them.”
Drake didn’t respond at first. He adjusted his cap, took a long drag from his pipe, and then nodded.
“Aye-aye.”
The bridge became a flurry of activity. Drake’s expression became deathly serious as he got to work maneuvering the craft. Wallace held tight as they careened portside, Salamence standing by some fifty feet overhead. Old Glacia followed close in tow, submerged and discernible only by the wake it left behind. The boat rocked savagely as the waves grew in size and speed, but under Drake’s masterful guidance, it crested the worst of them smoothly.
“Okay,” Wallace said. The Gyarados was obviously having trouble with the turbulent waters; it held the upper half of its body out of the water now, and was maneuvering doggedly to keep pace.
The plan was working. They may not be in Wallace’s element, but now they weren’t in the Gyarados’s either. If there was one thing he knew about Drake, though, it’s that rough waters were his element. He’d heard that the former champion could sail circles around a Gyarados in its prime in turbulent waters—if they were going to make it out of here, it was the navigator’s turn to prove his mettle.
“Salamence, hit it with another dragon rage!”
The dragon turned on a dime, folding a wing and dipping to the Gyarados’s level, flame streaming from its mouth. This time the Gyarados was unable to pirouette out of harm’s way; its neck and head were engulfed with flame, and it let out a spine-chilling scream of anguish. Although it chomped madly and fired ice beams recklessly at its attacker, none of its attacks found purchase.
“Marvelous work, Salemence! Keep it up!”
Old Glacia was powerless to resist as the Salamence buffeted it with column after column of draconically-infused flame. Then, abruptly, it ducked beneath the water and vanished.
“Was that it?” Wallace whispered.
As if to answer his question, the water swelled, and the Gyarados came rocketing out like lightning.
“Stop the boat!” he screamed. Drake grunted, almost shouted, as he wrenched the wheel in the opposite direction. The boat turned hard, a wall of water spraying from its side, and the massive Gyarados flew right over their heads. Its water drenched them; Wallace could have lifted a hand and touched its scales.
It landed with a calamitous splash, generating the largest wave they’d seen yet.
This was it.
“I need you to crest that as fast as you can,” Wallace commanded. For the first time, a touch of reluctance crossed Drake’s face, but with a twitch of his mustache it was gone. He dutifully gripped the wheel with one hand and fully engaged the throttle with the other.
The motor screamed to life, and the boat stalled in place for a moment—propellers churning the sea white—before rocketing towards the wave. Wind battered Wallace’s hair and sent his hat flying into the sea, but he couldn’t find it within him to mourn it now. The boat tilted ever so slightly as it glided over the wave’s face, and then—
Flight.
Time slowed to a crawl as they hurtled through the air, several feet above the surface of the water. Wallace could hardly see the too-blue sky through the curtain of green hair that whipped at his face.
“Salamence, use thunder bolt! Now!” he cried.
Hardly a second later, the blue-white flash of lightning carved itself into Wallace’s vision. The water came to life as electricity coursed through it, filling the air with steam and a deafening crackle. The Gyarados let out a shrill wail and thrashed at the water’s surface, and the frantic currents swept it away. By the time the boat slammed back into the sea, the shock had petered out and the Gyarados had gone quiet and plunged back into the depths.
Gone.
Wallace finally dared to breathe. Drake continued furiously operating the boat’s wheel, and after a few minutes, they had returned to calm seas.
“That was some fine seamanship, lad,” Drake said, taking a celebratory puff from his pipe. Wallace had to wonder how it was still dry enough to light. “I understand what Juan sees in you. You’ll make a fine leader one day. And ye learned an important lesson today.”
Wallace perked up. “I did?”
“Aye. There’s always a bigger fish.”
“Well, I’m not sure that little adage will satisfy Juan,” Wallace said wearily, pouting.
“When a little fish crosses a big one alone, the bigger fish will always win. But if the little fish can pull its predator into a bigger fight... Well, the little fish has a good shot of getting away free. Understand?”
“That’s a lot of words to say that I should distract my opponent,” Wallace said. “But I take your point. Thank you for your help today, Drake. Now, how about a drink once we’re back on land? Your treat.”
The old sailor’s mustache bunched up, and it took Wallace a moment to decipher the expression. He was actually smiling.
“I thought ye’d never ask.”
“Wait, so dinner is back on?” Steven asked.
“That’s right!” Wallace exclaimed. “I hope you have a suit ironed, because—ah, who am I kidding, do you even own any clothes that aren’t a suit?”
“I could wear my adventuring outfit.” He paused for a moment as though to consider. “No, I think a suit is best. So how did it go with Drake?”
“You were right,” Wallace admitted resignedly. “Yes, yes, soak it in. He’s a wise fellow and all that after all. And boy does he know how to put away a drink. I think I figured out what Juan meant about battling like a coordinator, though. It’s not all about cranking out the strongest attacks and being the center of attention, unfortunately.”
“Is that what you told him that made him let you go early?” Steven asked.
“Well...” Wallace traced the rim of his glass with a finger. “Let’s just say he’s dealing with a bigger fish right now.”
“What?”
“I booked out his entire day with Gym defenses.”
“Wallace!”
“What? It’s a lesson I learned from Drake. I’m doing exactly what he asked. Now, I’ll meet you at eight, alright? I’ve got a place in mind... Call me mad, but I’m craving seafood.”
