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Chapter 55 - Day 19, Part 6: The Samurai

SnapDragon

Frog on a mission
Pronouns
He/Him
Chapter 56: Day 19, Part 6 – The Samurai

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Flames rage violently, on all sides, forevermore. The heat is unyielding. The pain is unbearable. It does not stop. It will not stop. It cannot stop.

The Fire Witch is born from the ashes.

She is a ball of destruction through the land. Nothing can stop her, not as long as the pain remains.

The Fire Witch concocts a plan to end the pain: burn and burn until the ashes snuff out the flame.

She gives herself a new name, a new identity.

The Fire Witch earns this name through escapades of conquest and glory.

The Fire Witch is respected and revered.

The Fire Witch is remembered and applauded.

She laughs.

She laughs.

The Fire Witch laughs at their petty foolishness.

She must continue to blaze alight, for the pain never ends.

The Fire Witch takes her first life, innocence fading into the night.

She targets the weak and frail, for they won't be missed by the strong.

The Fire Witch burns down homes of those that slighted her.

She disfigures those that deserve it.

The Fire Witch seduces as she pleases.

The Fire Witch is terrorizing children again.

She ends lives earlier and earlier, easier and easier.

The Fire Witch loses her name.

And yet, the pain remains, for her reign never ends.

She laughs.

She laughs.

The Fire Witch laughs as she burns to death.

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Ganlon Mine: 3rd floor

I could still feel my skin searing and my bones melting.

A horrible sensation lingered, and my body spasmed. Cold, hard stone clung to my back, bending it, carving lines like steel wire shaped like a net. It cut into me, chopping up my body into perfectly shaped squares, angular and sharp. Still conscious, still aware. I was segmented, organized, and stacked.

It hurt like hell.

The pain was gone almost immediately after I found myself underneath the jagged, black abyss that was this cave system's inner workings. I doubted that the pain was even there to begin with, if I thought about it for too long.

But my head—ow ow ow my head—it wouldn't let go of the burning and the agony and the persistent, horrible, awful screeching-

"AaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!"

I remembered how to use my vocal chords right then. The scream I finally released was more bloodcurdling than I thought I was capable of. It cascaded down the tunnel and back to me like a wave.

I laid there, on the ground, head pounding and throat inexorably sore. My breaths came out as ragged and labored, defeated and final.

What the fuck was that?

None of what I saw or…experienced? Lived through? faded from memory like a dream would. It was like witnessing someone else's perspective in one moment, then feeling everything they felt, all at once, right after.

The Fire Witch…her laugh sent a chill down my spine. Whoever she was, that crazy bitch relished every second of her body being engulfed in flames.

The worst part?

I thought I did, too. In the moment, her ecstasy was mine.

Now that I was awake, I had to wonder what about it was so pleasurable. Was this what insanity felt like?

Right then, I decided, without any more internal discussion, to disregard any possibility of further exploration. It didn't happen. My mind was playing tricks on me to get me to crack. I just knew it.

So, with that pushed aside…where was I?

My skin still throbbed with phantom pains, and I really needed to reorient myself. Sitting up, I sucked in air through my teeth, tightly gripping the strap of my shoulder bag. Which…okay, good. I still had that.

Ahead of me was an outcrop in the rock, highlighted by flickering lamps hanging in the dark. A metal bucket rested up against the tunnel wall, overloaded to the brim with stones. A shovel sat nearby.

My wiggly, pink button nose analyzed my surroundings with my next sharp breath. The cave smelled like decay, moldy condensation, and multiple kinds of waste. Far off there was the slightest lick of iron, coated with an even layer of soot and gravel. A smearing of coal along the walls, minecarts inert on their tracks, wooden supports to prevent cave-ins—all of which were further in, somewhere, waiting. Barely able to be seen in the dark ahead of me.

Oh right, we were in a mine, not a cave. Why wasn't that obvious until now?

I turned around and found my back facing a dead end. Had it not been for the lights I would have assumed I had gone in a circle and ended up on the first floor again. Like this dungeon was sending me through a loop, one dip into hell after another.

I was also…alone.

"Fenn?" I croaked out. "Finch?"

A pit fell in my stomach. I looked down at my paws, flexing them.

Shit…we forgot to hold hands, didn't we?

How could we possibly think to do that in the dark while trying not to get crushed? I'd consider myself vindicated if I wasn't, you know, all by myself now.

"Fenn!" I called out again. "Finch!" Still nothing.

I huffed. Great. Me and my bad luck. I almost fell on my back and gave up right then and there.

"Oswald…? What is going on…?"

A small, muffled voice made me jump. "Cosmo!" I blurted out, my paws immediately darting to rip my bag open.

The purple Solosis tentatively floated up and out, his tiny face wilting deep with worry. His voice was small when he asked, "Why are you shouting? Did you get hurt?"

I didn't think twice before pulling him into a hug.

"No, no, no!" I mumbled breathlessly. "No, buddy, I'm okay. Everything's okay."

A wave of relief washed over me. Thank god Cosmo was safe. What were we thinking bringing him along?

His bubble squished under my paws, soft yet firm. He was tense, unsure of what to say or do.

"Okay…" Cosmo whispered, then shuffled a bit in my arms. "Where is Fenn and uncle Finch?"

My grip loosened, which was just enough for Cosmo to slip from my grasp and roll onto the floor. He landed with a bounce. It didn't bother him.

I wondered if it was a good idea to tell him the truth for a moment. Cosmo was a kid, sure, but if I kept treating him like a kid then he'd act like one. In a place like this, that probably wasn't ideal.

Of course, I could just stuff him into the bag again. Not like he'd say no. The thought of exploring this dark mine with nothing but my thoughts didn't sit well with me, though.

Reluctantly, I said, "They're…somewhere else. We have to go find them."

Cosmo immediately brightened up, his bubble lighting up with a pink hue.

"Oh! Cosmo will help! He's good at navigating tight spots! Like cubby holes! And crawl spaces!" The Solosis bounced further into the tunnel. "Do not worry! The hero of the jungle gym will keep you safe!"

"Wait, Cosmo, stop!" I snapped, leaping to my feet. Dashing forward, I stumbled just far enough to grab Cosmo and pull him back into my chest.

When I glanced down, breathing hard, I found Cosmo staring up at me affectionately, not a single thought behind those little eyes.

"Okay," he said.

"Just…stay with me," I demanded.

Cosmo stiffened. "Okay."

I sighed, frowning.

There he goes again…

"That's it?"

"That is what?" Cosmo wondered curiously.

"No pushback?" I said. "Not even going to argue?"

His blank look was very apparent behind the dull shimmer of his bubble.

"Why would Cosmo argue? Oswald told him to stay, so Cosmo will stay."

Why I decided to let this bother me now, of all times, was beyond me. I let Cosmo out of my arms, to which he hovered in place.

"Why do you do that?" I prodded.

Cosmo tilted his body mid-air. "Do what?

"You know-" I gestured ambiguously with my hands, motioning to…all of Cosmo, "-stop arguing as soon as I tell you to do something? I swear you didn't always do that."

Because yeah, back when we were at that wild west village, Cosmo didn't want to get in the bag at first. Every time after that he just did it without thinking. Sure, we convinced him that it was best. But Cosmo clearly wanted to do more. Even he had to know that he couldn't sit in the dark all the time.

Cosmo visibly sagged in the air, his eyes avoiding mine.

"Um…Cosmo does not want to do something wrong…"

I could detect the reluctance in that answer; it was painted all across the little guy's face. That sour expression was what I expected when I'd tell him what to do. Maybe it could have been true, and Cosmo was worried about being punished. All kids are like that. But that also sounded too simple. If he just didn't want to upset us—upset me—he'd at least act sad about it at that moment.

Normal kids get sad. They get angry when grown ups tell them what to do, too.

Normal kids also just have the one name and don't change colors out of nowhere…hmm.

I crossed my arms. "You haven't done anything wrong, Cosmo. It's just…I want to be sure. There's nothing you want to tell me? Nothing while we're alone and no one will judge you?"

A moment's consideration—Cosmo briefly looked at me only to avert his gaze immediately after. He shook himself silently.

"...Alright then. Suit yourself."

I'll come back to this later, I thought, looking about myself for a distraction. No use trying to make him answer me here.

Nothing had changed since I stood up, but it was hard to ignore the immense pressure weighing on my back and shoulders. Like a sudden wave of humidity, the fur on the back of my neck prickled, driving all the way past my shoulders and down to my tail. The air was heavy and hot, crowding me even further in these tight tunnels.

I was in a mystery dungeon, so of course it would feel like I was being compressed every second I was away from open air. Dark, scary things awaited me deeper below, just like any other dungeon. It was only just then that I remembered what that was like.

The fact that dungeons could just turn that off at any given moment bothered the hell out of me.

I gripped one of the scalchops on my hip. With Fenn and Finch missing, the only one capable of fighting was me. This pressure gave me very little space for doubt that I'd have to test out that Ice Beam on a living opponent.

What a sobering thought.

"Only way forward…" I said. "Come on, Cosmo. Let's go."

He followed without question.


Oo-oO​

"Do you recall what I told you once about mystery dungeons, old friend?" Crane asked in a slithery voice. "Do you? Well, you ought to know that they will speak to you if you treat them kindly enough."

"I fail to understand why this is relevant, old chum," Canary said, more than a little perplexed by the change in topic.

To Larkspur, the perplexity was rightfully earned. Did Crane really think he could distract them from his infidelity with the Oriole that easily?

Well, two could play at this game.

"You've gone completely mad, haven't you?" hissed the Malamar. "What is this falsehood? Where is your intellect? Spouting such nonsense…your shame falls from your greasy fingertips like-" he flicked his tentacle in Crane's direction, "-shaven rocks. You disgust me."

Words so sweetly uttered, hidden for so long amongst a miasma of contempt and indignance. Even Canary looked back with abject horror in his eyes. These were not words meant to be spoken, but felt.

Larkspur understood words. They could not kill directly, nor could they really hurt others in his eyes, but they could misdirect, goad, and cause cascading effects that atom bombs envision in feted nightmares.

It had its intended effect; Crane was left completely gobsmacked, his gem eyes sucking in the light of his corner of the room. The imp's claws dug into the chair deep enough to carve black streaks of filth.

That, along with the carpet, would be burned after this meeting.

"Mad…?" Crane uttered in complete disbelief. "Mad? Mad? MAD!?"

Intensity shot into the air with the snap of a Clawitzer's claw, propelling the Zoroark in the opposing chair to his feet, knocking said chair onto its back.

Larkspur did not flinch. Why would he, when the reaction he desired had occurred without error?

Sharp teeth flared in the wavering candle's light, a deadly scowl fit for a warlord. Crane had all of the fury in the world hard set for one singular Malamar. It was the kind of anger fit for ripe kings in their spiky thrones.

And yet…

Crane did not move. He did not even stand up.

Not another word escaped him…until he started giggling.

And laughing.

And chuckling like a fool. Before long, he was howling like an Oranguru, belting his pure elation to the ceiling above. Tiny, sparkling gems fell in droves from the cracks of his eyes and clattered to the floor.

Crane said, "I am mad, yes. So, so mad." His eyes glinted. "But you need that, Lark. You always have. You love the madness. You love me." His smile stretched from ear-to-ear. "Because you know it's true, don't you? I know you do."

He pointed a gangly finger, jabbing it at the open air. "The dungeons…they speak to you, too."

This was, however, not intended.

Larkspur scoffed behind his tightly shut beak. Do not show weakness. Not here. Not now.

"Pray tell, what would they say, Crane?" Larkspur snapped, his beak making a sharp cracking noise on the last word.

Crane receded into his chair giggling like a child who knew they had gotten away with theft, jingling his necklace between his fingers all the while. "Maybe if you were kinder, I would tell you. Tee hee!"

Games. Games, games, games. That was all it was to Crane. There was once a time when these games were fun for everyone involved. But that was years ago. Larkspur had waited decades to arrive at this moment in time, only to be laughed at by some clown pretending to be an archeologist.

Out of pure, unabashed and boiling hatred, Larkspur waltzed right past a cowering Canary and stood in front of the painting on the wall. His dearest Luna.

Luna…

Oh, Luna…


The Delphox was bathed in flame, a look cast about her shoulder that spoke a million salacious, lustful calls. He yearned for them—a simpler time, a simpler life. The tentacles atop his head swayed along with a nonexistent song.

Of course, the Sableye was watching him, licking his slimy lips for leverage, a reason to maim, an avenue for murder.

In a sing-song sort of voice, Crane said, "I've heard her, you know. For years now, she's spoken to me in my dreams." There was a melancholic affect to his tone. A longing, even. "Mystery Dungeons are such wonderful beasts, yes they are. To think, such a beauty could never die."

Larkspur did not falter. Yes, there was once a time when even the strongest of chaste knights quivered at the sight of that Delphox. He knew it to be true, as Crane's comments came at no surprise.

It was that predictability that led the fool straight into a trap.

"No, you have not," Larkspur whispered knowingly.

The following pause and sudden increase in attentiveness of the Sableye told Larkspur the truth: he had succeeded.

Crane stuttered. "W-what? How would you know?"

Such were the words of a failure. A loss in the war of communication.

Larkspur turned, a look of pure bliss upon his face. He spoke in confidence, for he knew it to be true.

"Her voice belongs to me."


Oo-oO​

For a mine, there sure was a lot of vegetation down here.

A lantern I had plucked from the wall illuminated the variety of green in these tunnels. The sudden appearance of damp grass softened the sounds of my footsteps as Cosmo and I progressed, one corridor after another. The weeds in the cracks of rocks did little but make the rock walls less boring, and the occasional vine stalk snaking up to the ceiling hardly slowed us down. That wasn't really saying much, though.

I'll admit, I had a lot of stupid questions to ask during my time in this world. But Cosmo more or less confirmed that the one on my mind was worth asking:

"Hey Oswald, Cosmo thought plants needed sunlight to grow…"

It was one thing to break the rules of reality, it was another to manipulate life to this degree. The whole thing set my teeth on edge. Granted, there was no reason why this had to be a surprise after everything before, so maybe that was why I just gave it a second look and moved on. Earlier, there were these strange bulbs with brown and dried leaves sticking out of the ground at points. They didn't seem to hold any sort of purpose, so I ignored them the same way.

Not like it was a dead body or anything.

"That's because they do," I replied to Cosmo, passing by a minecart that had been turned into a flowerpot. "I'm surprised you know something like that. Did you go to school at some point?"

Cosmo was slow to answer, and when he did it was just another question. "…School?"

"Yeah," I said. "You had to have learned that somewhere, right?" I certainly did, at some point in my life. And even if it was just bestowed upon me, Cosmo wasn't the one with memory loss here.

"Cosmo…guesses so," Cosmo muttered.

I frowned over my shoulder at the little Solosis, then sighed when I saw how downtrodden he was. "You can tell me anything, Cosmo, I won't bite."

Cosmo's gaze fell. "…School is not very heroic…"

That made me snort, actually. Where did he get that idea from? Er, well, I imagined that most kids believed in something like that. Still, it made me wonder about something that had been on my mind.

"If I asked Astro the same question, what would he tell me?"

Cosmo's eyes darted back up to meet mine, panic bleeding straight out of his bubble.

"Astro is even more secretive than Cosmo- oop!"

As if slamming his own mouth shut, Cosmo cut himself off suddenly.

I pursed my lips. "Point taken," I said.

I think I need Fenn for this. Or maybe Finch…yeah, probably Finch. That would be good.

My lantern swung in my paw as I walked, illuminating each dark corridor, but not enough to satiate any fears I might have had. The shivers from that vision still lingered; every dark corner was an avenue to burn my skin. This place was big—way more so than the past two floors.

Not a whole lot of turns, though. If the other two were here, they definitely weren't behind us.

Ahead, one of the lightbulbs on the ceiling blew out suddenly, tiny electrical sparks falling to the ground, crackling. I stared at the tiny specks of light dying out at my feet, perturbed.

Cosmo quietly whimpered out, "Hey Oswald?"

"What is it?" I said.

"Do these lights mean that there are electric type pokemon here? Cosmo doesn't want to get shocked."

"I don't know, Cosmo."

I could only hope there weren't any.

We kept moving.

"Fenn!" I called out, to no avail. "Finch!" Just how big was this floor?

An answer to my question came in the form of a change I was dreading: a fork in the road.

"Oh great…" I muttered.

Holding the lantern aloft wasn't enough to see far down either of these paths. Both smelled of dusty iron, like fresh blood under the tongue, and echoed every falling water droplet just out of view. The first actual choice I was presented with in this dungeon, and it wasn't an easy one.

"Doduo tunnel…" Cosmo groaned. "Which way?"

I shrugged. "I don't think it matters." That was a lie. Fenn could be down one, Finch could be down the other. There had to be some logic behind this…

Choosing was hard. So, I decided to make Cosmo choose for me.

"Hey, Cosmo, pick a-"

I stopped myself, then started back up again.

"Can you pick a path for me?"

Cosmo made a face as he took the extra effort to peer down each path thoroughly, making a variety of "hmmm" noises all the while. Eventually, he brightened up and hopped in front of the left side path.
"This one!" Cosmo declared. "Left is best!"

Couldn't argue with that. I was going to go right, purely because I assumed the dungeon would put Fenn on the path that I usually decided to take. But then again…yeah, no. It would just be a bunch of mind games and I'd get it wrong in the end anyway. Having Cosmo do it was better.

"Alright," I said, nodding. "Left is best."

Onward. Again. God, this dungeon likes to waste our time.

Naturally, with nothing else to fill my mind, it all came back to Cosmo. Because this tunnel sure as hell wasn't any more interesting than the last one. In short, I just didn't know what to make of any of it; Cosmo was just too unusual. Every explanation I had led nowhere, and I was left feeling like I knew nothing about the kid in the end.

I realized then that I could change that right now. Not like he could say no.

Oh, ew. I physically recoiled at that thought immediately. No, I'm not like that. Cosmo was just a kid, he didn't deserve that. Hell, nobody deserved that.
I knew what it was like to be pushed to do something you didn't want to do.

Treading carefully, I asked instead: "So, I know this might be a weird time to ask—hope you don't mind talking about this—but I wanted to know, Cosmo, what was your life like before we met?"

Before, the Solosis had mostly just been floating along, but after being proposed with that question, he started bouncing back and forth from one side of my head to the other.

"Oh! Cosmo was on the run!" he said.

I raised an eyebrow. Not the answer I was expecting, yet somehow it was more telling than anything else I knew.

"Why?" I wondered. "What happened?"

Cosmo started talking all triumphantly and faking a deep voice. "Some dastardly villains discovered Cosmo's whereabouts! He had no choice but to run and start over!"

"Whereabouts? You mean like…home base?"

"Yes! Where Cosmo, the hero plans his rescues!"
"Where was that?"

Cosmo stopped bouncing. "W-where was what?"

"Your home base," I reiterated, trying to meet him at his level. Attempting anything otherwise never worked. "Where was it?"

His eyes fell. His tone turned timid. "It was…somewhere?"

"Somewhere?"

"Somewhere…it's a secret! Secret base!"

I looked ahead as we walked, peering into the darkness past the faint light of the lantern. There really wasn't much of a choice, I had to march into the unknowable, with no way to predict if any of it could make sense. Were we really that far down, or did it just seem like it?

How far would we have to go? How much of the journey mattered?

Why wouldn't someone take a shortcut to the bottom if there was one?

I hadn't even said anything and I was already regretting it. But it was for his safety, his future. I'd be a bad guardian for not knowing, wouldn't I?

"Cosmo," I spoke firmly but not unkindly, "tell me where 'somewhere' is?"

I paid special attention to how he reacted to that command, going so far as to look him dead-on when I said it.

Almost immediately, Cosmo's entire bubble sharpened in a way that turned the elastic gel into what looked like pink plastic. His goopy-like eyes that normally seemed so carefree and erratic became serious in a way that made him appear three times older in an instant. He was looking at me, communicating that he was in fact there, but also felt constricted?

Seeing this made me sick to my stomach. Though I couldn't focus on that much when I noticed how distressed he appeared a moment later.

"S-somewhere is," Cosmo whined, "or…orphanage." He made a soft whimpering noise. "No…"

Well, I got my answer, but if that was what it took, then I didn't want it. I stopped in my tracks to gawk at that Solosis, lantern down at my side. I blinked apologetically.

As softly as I could, I held up a paw. "Hey, hey," I said. "You don't have to say any more. Like…it's okay. Okay?"

Cosmo sniffled. "Okay…"

Never doing that again, I promised internally. Never. Again.

I sighed, letting my shoulders relax and my paw collapsed to my side. "Can you tell me why you do that, Cosmo? Why telling you to do something makes you do it, even if you don't want to?"
"Cosmo doesn't wanna…" Cosmo uttered, looking away.

"You don't want to tell me? Why?"

"Hurts…"

"Physically? Does it…make you feel pain?" At this point I just wanted to know if I could stop it in general.

"…No," was his response, and I was pretty thankful for that. Even if it still wasn't good.

I wasn't fit for this. I never was. What the fuck was I thinking, letting this kid come along? I knew it wasn't sunshine and rainbows back then, why would that change now?

Moron. Idiot. Stupid asshole!

Whatever. We needed to keep moving.

Giving Cosmo a sad look, I said, "That's still gotta hurt, huh? I'm sorry, Cosmo. I won't do it again, I promise."

Finally, he looked back at me. His eyes were wet inside that bubble, but the relief was refreshing to see. He muttered, "O-okay. Cosmo is sorry-"

I cut him off. "Buddy, don't be sorry. You didn't do anything wrong and you shouldn't have to do anything you don't want to."

"Okay…" Cosmo whispered. It sounded like he was responding to being reprimanded, even if he stopped himself from crying. I really hoped he wasn't used to this.

Really hoping his caretakers were nice to him.

The second I find Fenn, I thought, we need to talk about getting this kid some help.

First, though, I needed to make up for this. I had no idea how, seeing that there was no way of knowing what was even causing it. But then I thought back on what brought me from the brink when I was feeling hopeless.
Who knows? Maybe it was just something he had to live with. That didn't mean he had to do it alone. My job was to let him know that.
I lifted my lantern back up and got to walking again.

"Hey, what do you say we go get ice cream after this?" I said with a smile.

Cosmo's eyes lit up like little stars as he followed me. "Ice cream?"

"Yeah, you like ice cream?"

He gasped. "Ice cream! Yeah, yeah, yeah!"

I chuckled, looking back at him with a full-on grin, my whiskers rising up with my cheeks. "What flavors? Any favorites?"

Cosmo's response was immediate: "All of them!"

"All of them?"

"Yeah! U-uh, as long as they're not a pokemon, because that would be weird. One time, Cosmo saw a Vanillite, and- and- and-"

WHACK!

I let out a scream as a sudden burst of pain split up my forearm.

"Ow! God! What!"

Cosmo let out a high pitched squeal, thankfully directly behind my head and out of the way.

"Oswald!" he cried.

Stumbling back, I spared maybe half a second to examine the damage through the wavering light of my lantern, and that was all it took for me to grow queasy. A long, red streak painted my upper arm, bleeding red viscous. I couldn't tell how deep the cut was in the time I had. I just knew it stung like a long bee sting.

The source of the damage wasn't far off.

Protruding from the ground was a pair of vines pointing straight up. They writhed frantically, without common sense or cohesion. One whipped the air in the spot I was just in with movements so fast that I could've blinked and missed it. The low light only made it harder to see where it was at any given moment.

Then the body started moving.

There was one of those bulbs I had noticed earlier. That same brown and decaying leaves swayed as the body belonging to these vines readjusted itself, turned around, and faced me. The thing was, at least at some point, an Ivysaur. I only called it that because the features were unmistakable. Everything else, from its slimy, malignant skin to its dark, sunken eyelids told me that this Ivysaur was far from normal. There was nothing in those eyes.

Fear tangoed with bewilderment within my mind. The shadows of the cave conspired against me to spawn a nightmare.

What the fuck?

I really didn't need to be told outright that this thing wanted me dead, but I'll give credit to the dungeon for finally dropping any pretenses. This wasn't a pokemon anymore—it was a demon.

Black ooze dripped from the Ivysaur's open jaw as it focused hard on me, hollow grin and all. The thing gurgled like a drowned toad, its other vine whipping the air. I could feel the threat in its shockwave.

Clutching my arm, I took another step back. The fur on the back of my neck stood up. My blood was running cold.

"O-Oswald…" Cosmo whimpered. "What is-"

The Ivysaur lunged. Another blink and my vision was obscured by a blur of black and dark green.

"No!" I screeched reflexively, but I wasn't able to reach my scalchop in time.

The world careened backward as I was toppled to the ground. The Ivysaur was heavy on my chest, further exacerbated by me being far from ready for it. Vines cracked above my head, my torso grew sticky and uncomfortably warm, and my whiskers thrummed with disgust.

And that wasn't even the worst part.

Crash!

The lantern fell from my grip and onto the ground, shattering into tiny glass shards. Everything went dark. I could only detect the vague silhouette of the beast and the afterimage of the light.

My mind was rushing to find meaning in all of this. I flailed my arms, but each time I found purchase I couldn't stop from recoiling. Not knowing what I was touching, all the while being battered by something I couldn't see made me screech my lungs out. Bile tasted like iron which tasted like blood, and no amount of kicking and screaming was halting the darkness from encroaching on the sides of my vision. I wanted to cry. I wanted to throw up.

I wanted to live.

Out of the corner of my eye, a simple pink glow permeated the tunnel. It was brief and slight, but even that was enough to brighten the entire wall, as well as the monster on top of me. Finally, I had more than blurry shapes to work with.

"Get OFF!" I shouted, leveraging my weight between the floor, the creature, and my foot. I kicked up into the Ivysaur's half-melted midsection just as its toothless jaw was about to clasp onto my neck. It tumbled to the floor, black ooze trailing behind it. No more than a second passed before it was on its feet again. And even then, I could barely see it.

I rose to my feet sluggishly, my entire body like some clumsy sack of soggy meat. Ooze stuck to my fur in clumps and my arm ached. All I could do to ignore it and avoid vomiting was to pinpoint my heartbeats and follow their lead.

Fenn wasn't here to help me. I had to do this all on my own. In the dark. With a thrashing headache and my nostrils burning from a stench too strong to smell.

One.

Everything about this situation frightened me. Made me sick.

Two.

Why me? Why was this happening?

Three.

It was staring me down, about to pounce. I had to act.

Four.

My fingers found the ridges of my scalchop. I didn't need light to find it.

Five. Six. Seven.

I was alive.

Eight.

It lunged.

Nine.

I closed my eyes.

A horrible gurgling screech met my ears, driving me out of my stupor. Before I knew it, the beast was rolling on the floor, writhing in pain. A long gash ran from its forehead to its jaw, leaking black ooze. Somehow, it was still alive.

Somehow, I had done that.

Somehow, I could see clearly.

I looked down at my paw.

The scalchop was there, tightly gripped between my fingers. A long, shimmering blade of light jutted out from its edges. Brighter than any lantern, stronger than the sun. It gleamed gold as if to say "ready when you are."

I stared in awe. Not only did it show up when I needed it, it was sticking around to finish the job.

I remembered something right then. A quote from a movie or something?

You may abandon your own body, but you must preserve your honor.

Do not fear death. Your sword shall lead the way, samurai.


Swift had given me some advice before. There I was thinking that I had tuned out most of what he said and just followed his examples. But then this pops in my mind like it was waiting to do so.

"Pokemon don't fight because they have to, or even because they want to. Fighting is just another part of life. It keeps you sharp. It keeps you healthy. It's normal. Stop treating it like it's anything special."

"And stop getting caught on doing it wrong…" I whispered under my breath. It did always seem a little strange that Swift gave me that advice but taught me specific techniques anyway. Even corrected me at points. So, if none of it mattered, why was I doing it?

That question hit me just as I realized that my legs had widened out and my arms had raised the scalchop into a guarded stance without me realizing it.

The Ivysaur cowered in the dark, now in full view. It recognized that it no longer had the upper hand. With that gash, the beast's face took on a worried expression. I also got a view of its lower half—or at least, what there was of it—from the upper angle. Its hind legs tapered off into a couple of miasma-laden stumps that dragged behind it uselessly.

It looked pathetic. Too sick to even move, let alone fight. Its leaves were practically falling off at the same time.

Cutting this thing didn't feel good. I knew it was just an illusion or something like that, but I couldn't help but feel like I was making a mistake. Did it used to be a real pokemon? Why did it look so afraid?

It might have detected my hesitance, because it tried to lunge for me again, despite the apparent danger.

My limbs locked up. Seeing the Ivysaur try to attack me again made the sticky ooze burn on my chest. I had little time to react, and most of it was spent waiting for my brain to catch up.

And yet…

At the last possible moment, I pressed the blade forward. Its tip collided with the Ivysaur, directly in the middle of its chest. With how it opted to attack head-on, the movement was little more than a flick of the wrist.

There was now an Ivysaur skewered on my scalchop. It looked me straight in the eye and I swore I saw a glimmer of recollection winking back at me.

For several strange moments, the limp body laid suspended in the air, then slid off just as the life left its eyes. The body hit the floor with a dull plop.

I couldn't stop looking at it—hobbled mess of goo and dead plants that it was. Everything went on pause until Cosmo's voice met my ears.

"Oswald, you got it!" Cosmo shouted in surprise.

My gaze darted between him, my scalchop—still activated, by the way—and the dead monster.

"I did...Huh," was all I could think to say.

I don't even…

How do I…did I…how…what…?


Cosmo had more to say, in comparison. "That was awesome! Cosmo's never seen anything like it! That creepy thing was like 'graa!' and Oswald was like 'shwing!' and beat it!"

Once again, I looked between Cosmo and the blade, ultimately deciding that yes, I did do that. And dammit, it was awesome.

"Heh, all in a day's work," I said, wearing a confident smirk. I waved the scalchop around like it was a toy and not a deadly laser sword. "But hey, gotta commend you, too, Cosmo. Without you I would've been blind. Since when have you been able to do that?"

Cosmo's cheeks turned a bright red under his pink bubble. "A while," Cosmo said sheepishly. "Cosmo only activated his spotlight mode because the other light broke."

Oh yeah. The lantern still laid shattered on the cave floor. Funny, because I could still see clearly.

"Don't need it," I remarked, brandishing my scalchop like a beacon. "This is easier to hold anyway."

"Whoa…"

Cosmo's amazement was understandable, as long as I assumed he was staring at the light. But he wasn't. I followed his gaze to the floor—where the Ivysaur still was.

Goosebumps prickled along my skin. It wasn't an Ivysaur anymore. Wasn't a dead thing either. Just a puddle of gray sludge.

That gray sludge melted into the earth, disappearing from sight. Even the sludge clinging to my fur dissipated, gone. My fur felt completely dry. I went to touch my chest, only for a sudden jolt of pain to strike my skull.

"Agh!" I grunted, clenching my eyes shut and gripping an ear with my free paw. It took everything in me not to collapse to my knees.

"Oswald?" Cosmo asked. I could barely hear him over the intense ringing all around me.

My head was pounding. For some reason, watching the sludge caused an immediate reaction for me. When I forced my eyes open, the floor was spinning like a whirlpool. The walls were melting.

"Damn..I'm fine…I'm fine," I repeated under my breath, trying to assuage Cosmo's concerns. It seemed to work, seeing as how he went quiet.

After blinking several times and waiting for the ringing to pass, I was eventually able to shake off the wooziness. My head still ached, but it was a dull throb now. I panted heavily, gripping the side of my head tight enough to pull out a few strands of fur.

"Oswald?" Cosmo tried again, softer this time.
I breathed out, "I'm fine," again. This time, I meant it. "Don't worry about it. Just…had a dizzy spell, I guess."

"Okay…" Cosmo pondered aloud, "Where'd it go?"

I didn't answer. I was just as perplexed as he was. The floor was a floor again, at least. No more spinning.

The Solosis drifted closer, trepidation shrinking his bubble around its core. "Um…can Cosmo be near you, Oswald? This is weird…"

"...Sure," I said absentmindedly, turning my wrist over and over again. Just to make sure it worked after all of that. "Stay…stay close to me."

"Okay…huh?"

I jolted to attention, looking up at Cosmo. "What? What is it?"

"Your paw!"

"My wha-"

It made no sense. I was staring at my palm just a second ago. When I turned it over to look at the back of my hand, however, my heart dropped well past my stomach.

A flame flickered atop my fur, burning my paw to cinders.

My tail smacked the floor in sheer panic.

"AH! Shitshitshit!"

Frantically, I batted at it with my other paw, trying to put it out. But no matter what I did, the flame wouldn't be extinguished.

Cosmo tilted back away from me, his bubble doubling in size. "Fire! Fire!"

Again and again and again I smacked my wrist, but it just wouldn't go out. I screamed at the top of my lungs, stomping my feet and flailing my arms. "Stop! Stop!"

Panic fully set in once I noticed that not only was it persisting, it was spreading. My entire hand was engulfed in flames within seconds.

Flashes of the Fire Witch's fate flared inside my mind, pain surging through my limbs. It wasn't real. It wasn't real. It wasn't real. IT WASN'T REAL.

I dropped my scalchop, the light from its blade retracting. Only the fire lit up the cavern right then. I had a perfect view of the agony bestowed upon me as my arm, too, was engulfed in bright red fire.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!"
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" Cosmo chanted just out of my view. But it wasn't his fault. Why was he acting like this was his fault? My fault? Who's fault? What?

Why was he- why was I- why was- why- why- WHY- WHY- WHY-

The flames leapt from my shoulder to my chest and to my neck, not stopping once it reached my head, spreading faster now. Everything burned white. Singing my skin. Searing my fur.

I cried out in pain, only for each whimper to sound more hollow than the last. I was dying, burning alive.

Wasn't that funny?

I wanted to laugh.

What else was there to do when your skin was burning to a crisp? Maybe the witch had a point.

No. That wasn't true. Most people don't laugh when they die. Not unless they're crazy. I wasn't crazy.

Not after everything I had been through. I wasn't crazy!

The flames spread further to the cave itself, running up the walls and raining from the ceiling like red hot glass shards that punctured my skull continuously. In time, all I could see was fire.

The caves glowed a blinding white, graciously lifting me from the depths just to send me into the sun. I did the only thing I could think of: I closed my eyes, curled up into a ball, and waited for it all to end. The pain was just too much to bear—every mistake in my life played out on repeat. My lies to Fenn, my trusting of Anemone, my impulsive cutting of Crocus' hand.
It's true what they say, your life really does flash before your eyes when you die. It's like a final mercy meant to soothe you into nonexistence. I guess my brain didn't get the memo, though, because if that were the case then I'd be yearning for Fenn above all else. Instead, I begged for it to end.

Still, if I was going to burn to death, I'd rather it be by him than whatever the hell this was.

Where are you, Fenn…

Through the agony, one solitary voice shouted out for me over the deafening sound of the flames crackling. It sounded like him.

"Oswald!"

Oswald…

Oswald…


'Oswald.'

The crackling stopped.

It was dark. I couldn't see in front of me. The abyss was cold, decrepit, and ear-ringingly silent.

Numbness wracked me on all sides. A dry itchiness infected my throat, and I coughed.

I coughed…

Wait…I still had a body. I could feel it. I could move. Wasn't I dead?

Through some sheer force of will I flexed my fingers. They curled against the ground like stunted pincers, gathering dirt at my fingertips. If I procured enough, I could bury myself, and hide away from the world.

I was almost certain the afterlife was bereft of dirt, that useless thing. No, I had to get up.

My hand reached out for something. Anything.

I froze. A fingernail grazed the edged surface of something hard.

Something familiar.

I grasped it. Instinctually, my fingers locked into the grooves, each loving caress a chiding reminder to never leave me again.

It's okay, I told my scalchop. I could never abandon another part of me.

The walls of the cave lit up with a flash of light. Not red hellflames, but the calming warmth of a summer's sword, rejuvenating life into the world.

I caught my bearings, quickly finding that I was still in the cave. It was just…different.

The walls were charred a deep black, every inch scorched and chipped. Jagged stones hung from the ceiling, and every bit of grass was simply ash.

The air stank of acrid smoke and burnt meat, but my focus was more on how sluggish I was. There was something above me, beyond the filthy walls, just out of sight. More than eyes, more than weight heavier than anything imaginable.

I was somewhere else. Somewhere darker. No one with a living body should have been here, I decided.

I stood up straight. It was slow…I was slow, but I managed.

A sudden thought hit me. "Cosmo?" I wondered aloud, flinching suddenly at a dark shape at the corner of my vision.

It was my own paw. And arm. And everything else. Looking down, I found that my entire body was covered in a dusty layer of soot. It was like I just crawled out of a dirty oven.

Gross.

Just then, a purple shape rose from behind a stalagmite. Cosmo was unharmed, whole. He peered at me sheepishly.

"Cosmo i-is here…"

"Oh thank god." I nearly tripped on myself walking over to him. "Are you okay?"

He rose further into view, his sagging bubble all the more apparent.

"Cosmo…is," he said. "He wasn't…hurt."

But what about…oh, who gives a shit? The fire didn't affect him, that was all that mattered.

"Good…good," I breathed. I took a brief moment to take in my surroundings. There were two paths, forward and back. Just as before. Now just to figure out which is which…

Cosmo spoke up and asked, "Um, Oswald?"
"What is it?" I replied, searching and finding the shattered lantern on the ground. Were we closer or further from the exit? I couldn't remember.

"You were…on fire. Cosmo saw it. And now you…"

I stopped. Looked back at him. Smiled.

Thanks for the reminder.

"Need a bath? Yeah, I know. Come on, buddy."

Although he hesitated, he followed me just as asked.

We didn't make it far.

Distant sounds of chittering and claws on stone tap-tap-taping, getting closer and closer.

I threw up my scalchop, positioning it in front of me. I was more than certain that my stance was way off. Not like it mattered—if I could hit them, whatever they are, I could win.

Cosmo sidled up behind me, faintly glowing. His whimpering voice was barely audible over the noise.

"That sounds like a lot of villains…" Cosmo whispered.

I frowned.

"I know, Cosmo," I said. "I know."


Author's Note - 9/16/2025

Sorry for the long wait on this one. Long summer. We're getting into some weeds now in terms of my plans for this arc so this chapter ended up careening into a completely different direction, as well.

Fun fact about my writing process: a lot of my scenes have moments that are based on the music I listen to at the time. This also dictates the general tone of the story at that moment. To give an example, I was listening to a lot of Sade and Tatsuro Yamashita up to and around chapter 50. In the case of this chapter, I've been listening to a lot of Silent Hill music again. Does it show?

This chapter was very nearly titled "Reverse Will" because I couldn't think of anything for a while. Then I settled on "Reverse Consciousness" before finally going with "The Samurai" after some introspection and some feedback.

Speaking of feedback, thanks again to my wonderful beta readers: Bonehead, Dust_Scout, LukerUpgrades, Nikel/Skullrider, and Timelocke. And thank you for reading.

See you next time.
 
Chapter 57 - Day 19, Part 7: The Shepherd

SnapDragon

Frog on a mission
Pronouns
He/Him
Chapter 57: Day 19, Part 7 – The Shepherd


Ganlon Mine: 3rd floor


Fenn still fantasized about the apocalypse.


The topic came to him a lot less these days, particularly after meeting Oswald. Unsurprisingly, this new shining beacon of light in his life staved away the bad thoughts. He had just assumed that the Dewott's presence would stop it entirely.


When the fantasies persisted, Fenn had noticed that they had taken on a different tone. These daydreams became more somber and peaceful with flecks of finality. Less…spiteful. He could safely say that his irreverence for the world had diminished, for the most part. But the apocalypse was incredibly prevalent in his teenage years, and despite his efforts, he hadn't grown up as much as he thought he did.


To this day, Fenn occasionally fantasized about meteors slowly engulfing the world in a fireball of destruction, or a foreign invasion leaving all but few to survive. Even he knew that this was silly and juvenile. Indulgent, especially, when it came to flagrant yearning. Better suited for someone who cried in his sleep over lost love and bad grades.


There was this thought that his pain had an endpoint, though. One day, everyone that hurt him would recognize their faults in the final moments before disaster struck. He would be vindicated for feeling so slighted, and rewarded for his silent sorrow. No more aching hearts, no more judgemental glares. All would be at peace.


He felt bad, too, every time the yearning resurfaced. His face would flush with embarrassment and frustration as he cursed himself for letting his own pity bother him like a persistent itch. What right did he have to center the world around himself anyway? The pain wasn't that bad. Some had it worse…probably.


When Fenn woke up on the next floor of the mine after escaping the earthquake, he was all alone. He had laid curled up in a ball on the ground, cool mildew lining his flame vents uncomfortably. Darkness enshrouded him, blanketing him in cold. A weightless pressure slithered across his back in search of a vulnerable consciousness to snack on.


No one had found him like that, and he doubted anyone was going to.


It was just like how it was a month into his janitorial tenure, when every day was the same and no one spared him a second look. One specific night ended with the younger Quilava sleep-deprived and on the verge of apathy. He decided to rest his eyes in the castle's closet, where the broom and dust pan lived during off-hours. Just for a little bit. Before he knew it, Fenn had slipped into slumber for quite some time, a mophead acting as his pillow.


There were no interruptions; in fact, it was the best bit of sleep he'd had in a long while. He didn't get yelled at by Aster, or anyone, really. No one had sneered and said anything like, "aw, poor kid fell asleep in the broom closet. Boohoo." No one. For all he knew, no one cared.


His mind had drifted back then, leading him to a mountain of questions. What if this was how it always was? What if he could do this often and no one would ever notice? Would it make a difference?


Or had everyone already left, and abandoned Fenn to his lonesome in the world? What if they were all just…gone? What if they never came back?


One catastrophizing thought led to another. Then another. And another.


Apocalypse.


The dungeon was darker than that place, further down and away from anyone who would even think to call for him. Quite a bit of time had passed before Fenn acquired the conviction to move, and even then it was far from pleasant. Every couple of seconds, he focused on the soreness caused from resting on jagged rock, alternating between blissful numbness and blaring agony. He couldn't see the scattered pebbles inches from his eyes in this dark, no matter how much his paws sought to form them physically.


With nothing to stimulate his senses, his imagination played dirty pranks. There was a face directly in front of him. Then there wasn't. Then he saw himself smiling with barbed wire stretched across his teeth. But no, that was actually another face, one he didn't recognize, fluctuating with the pain.


This was how his world would end.


He thought about his mother, as he often did when utter destruction threatened the theater of his mind. Her soft, gentle cadence, her warm hugs that calmed Fenn down no matter how much he cried, how she always knew what to say…Oh, how his heart ached.


His mother never stopped any disasters, but she always muffled the initial explosion.


A chain of events had cycled through the early morning until now in Fenn's head, and it occurred to the Quilava that his mother might not have even heard the news yet. The sun had hardly lowered into the evening the last time he checked. She could still be home, tending to her garden, stray prayers sent en route to her bumbling son like thrown matches.


Through his memory of her, Fenn finally willed his flame vents to sputter to life. From there, the cave blossomed into coherence.


Fenn wandered after that, following the rocky walls in search of his friends and love. Outlines of pebbles cast long shadows against the walls of the mine, pure black and blurry orange, each flickering ember a lie laid to rest in the dirt.


Time collapsed through the cracks of existence for Fenn—his journey never seeming to cease. He trudged down one pathway, only to reach a dead end. Then he went down another and encountered a solid wall of rock just like the last one. Each time he would have to retrace his steps and try a path he avoided before, not stopping even when he presumed that his options were completely diminished.


He just had to keep going, exploring every nook and crannie he could find. Oswald and the others had to be somewhere.


The apocalypse could wait.




Fenn thought about writing his own stories once.


With nothing but the unending corridors of this mine to entertain him, he was reminded of a time when the sun rose for everyone but him. Clemat had disappeared from the Quilava's life just months prior beforehand, leaving a dark shroud to hang over his shoulders. Fenn had little to look forward to, little to care for, and little to enjoy about his life.


So, he daydreamed.


This had only occurred in snippets when he was a child—just simple fantasies meant to brighten playtime with prospects of grand adventures and slaying evil. But as a teenager, it was as though evil had finally won. These daydreams became more vivid and complex. Love and desire became factors, as well as sorrow and pain. But most importantly, Fenn was no longer a part of the fantasy itself. He was just…missing, his role taken up by characters he only recognized in hazy piecemeal.


It certainly helped that Fenn found himself drawn to more fiction stories during that point in his life, but even then, his own daydreams overtook that source of magic to the point that he tended to read less often overall. Instead, he sat and considered phantom scriptures.


He imagined a diminutive Scraggy, shorter than others of his species with little to offer to those around him. This Scraggy would join up with a band of friends well out of his league all excited and hopeful. Over and over again, though, Fenn would play a scene in his head of this Scraggy being abandoned by his new friends, left to fall deep into a chasm under a rickety bridge. Down and down he went, screaming and wailing to be saved. At the very bottom, the Scraggy laid alive, but broken.


The extent of his injuries tended to shift with Fenn's mood, but the result would always be the same: the Scraggy would look up into the forgotten sky above him and would know in no uncertain terms that he was dead to the world. Gone. Left to wander out and accept that no one cared enough to dive in after him.


Fenn attempted to write out this scene during a particularly empty day, only to discover that his pen would not move after just a few sentences. He was stuck, unmotivated. Writing was more difficult than he could have possibly imagined.


He tried again a few times, here and there. More details flowed to him like water down a stream, only for Fenn to remind himself that he wasn't built for this. Not once did he progress past the first page.


Warriors don't write stories. Songs are sung for them, not the other way around. That was how he used to think.


By the time Fenn had exhausted his options in this cave, utterly frustrated and his feet sore, he wondered if he should try again some day. He wasn't a warrior anymore, so what was stopping him?


That Scraggy was still there, waiting to tune into his inner courage. Young and hopeless and lost. Fenn never did decide how exactly he would get out of that chasm. Having any ideas would have been helpful right about now.


With a bitter huff, Fenn dropped to all fours and turned away from yet another dead end. That had to be the last one, unless he somehow missed another path along the way, but he highly doubted that.


Sure, his mind had been wandering, but his ears were constantly upright and his posture was sharp. There was not an inch of this cave untouched by the light of his fire. So Fenn either glazed over something or…no, that wasn't possible. Fenn was taught to navigate dungeon corridors with the deftness of a bloodthirsty Houndoom. How could he ever lose track of where he was in this stupid cave?


That was what he thought, until a sharp scent, reminiscent of charcoal and rotten eggs, assaulted his nostrils on his way out of the previous tunnel. That was new. He followed it in hopes that it would lead him forward, eventually finding an opening in the rocks surrounded by shattered gravel. That was also new.


Fenn observed the mound of pebbles with a scrunched up nose, though that was partly because of the acrid scent in the air. Did he not notice this because it was blocked somehow? That didn't explain the scent. More cynical than perplexed, Fenn stepped around the rubble into the tunnel.


What he found, stacked up in bundles up against a collapsed pile of rocks, was a collection of explosives so large in number that it covered the entire back wall. Tens of what looked like red cylinders in clusters, topped by black stems, lined every inch.


Dynamite.


A stray ember cascaded to the floor from Fenn's flame vents. Eyes wide as saucers, Fenn gasped and jolted back, gripping his arm tightly.


Fenn waited for oblivion…only for nothing to happen. The bundles were inert, for now; his embers were too far away to cause any explosions.


Backing away slowly, Fenn's flames lowered to simple candlelight as hysterical thoughts ran laps within his mind.


Why was there dynamite here all of a sudden? Fenn knew that it was a mineshaft, but a mystery dungeon wouldn't replicate real circumstances like this—not to this degree. And yet he couldn't get it out of his head how…deliberate this all was.


The only reason Fenn even recognized what he was looking at was because his father used to talk about dynamite sometimes when he reminisced about the war. Back then, some troops tapped into old human pyrotechnics when their reserves ran dry, or to catch the enemy off guard.


Fenn's father claimed to have never seen any go off, mostly because they were much too old and full of dust. He just liked to brag about the good old days when pokemon were smart and resourceful. He even kept a stick as a trophy.


That stick went on to blow up the house when Fenn was really young. Thankfully his father was the only one home at the time, but Fenn could still remember the scent of sulfur burning a hole through the air. The very same that stank so vehemently ahead of him.


"W-what the heck?" Fenn muttered, continuing to retreat. The further away he went, the less perceptible the dynamite became in the low light. Only then, when he was far enough away for the stench to diminish as well, did Fenn look down at his paws and notice that he was quivering.


Fenn breathed. Shut his eyes. Dimmed his fire.


Oswald and the others weren't this way. They couldn't be.


The dynamite sat in smug, unlit defiance in front of Fenn. It was taunting him, practically saying, "I don't make sense! But why?" Fenn found himself asking the same question, alongside "how?" If there was no way out of this part of the cave, which he was still not convinced of, how was the dynamite set but not lit?


Silly questions for a silly Quilava, undoubtedly. Mystery dungeons made no sense on the face of it and this was no exception.


The only way forward was to blow it all up. That was how he would get out of this chasm.


The fur on the back of Fenn's neck bristled at the thought. His neck itched under his scarf. No, there had to be another way. Blowing up this dynamite would undoubtedly cause a cave-in of some kind, or get himself or his friends hurt. It could even just block off the path anyway. What was a dynamite explosion even like?


This is unfair, he whined internally.


Fenn reared up onto his hind legs. Turning around and looking for another solution seemed like the smart thing to do, but where else was there to go? Was this really all he had? Did he have to do this?


What if Oswald, Finch, and Cosmo are right on the other side? he thought.


A warrior wouldn't even think about it, he reasoned, scowling in turn. A warrior would do whatever it takes.


Therefore, he knew for a fact that this was stupid. Very stupid.


"O-Oswald!" Fenn squeaked out. Pitiful. His mewling cry may as well have fallen to the dirt with a wet splat.


Fenn's fire flared with the burning in his cheeks.


"S-s-stupid stutter…s-stupid…stupid wimpy voice!"


It was always like this. Ever since Fenn was a kid he just couldn't get his thoughts across properly. Speaking up was downright impossible, so everyone talked over him. Even right then, in a place filled to the brim with silence, his throat was dry.


He squeezed his eyes shut, paws clenched at his sides. Once more—he could do it, this time with bite.


"Os…OS…O-OSWALD!" Fenn shouted, his voice breaking.


It echoed down the tunnel behind him briefly, but not nearly enough to reach anywhere he hadn't already been. The sound died with a whimper.


Fenn's ears drooped. He opened his eyes to the wall of dynamite, waiting for him. No progress.


I hate you, he thought. No use in even speaking it aloud. Not like anyone was listening, or could hear him.


This was ridiculous. Why was he like this? Why did he have to be so quiet all the time? Why did he have this stupid stutter? Was he really doomed to stoking his flames and nothing else for the rest of his life?


He didn't want to blow up this dynamite.


But he had to. His friends could be in trouble.


Fenn huffed. There were a million ways this could go badly. The shrapnel itself could bury him alive. So, above all else, Fenn needed a plan—both of attack and escape.


The Quilava dropped to all-fours and steeled himself. Heat surged through his limbs, his core burning like a furnace.


Yes, he controlled the heat within himself like it was second nature to him. That didn't mean that a live fireball couldn't burn him to a crisp, though. Running fast enough was paramount.


Fenn's eyes trailed up the pile to the ceiling. He searched for a hidden opening or crevice that would accept his ire. But did it really matter where and when he tossed his fire at this thing? What about a big ember or a small ember? Would more fire cause it to explode sooner?


What if he-


What would happen if-


What angle was-


Fenn growled in frustration. "J-just…do it!" he hissed at himself. "D-do it and r-run! Do it! D-do it! Do IT!"


On the last word, a fervent fireball was flung from his mouth and sailed right to its doom. The walls bounced with shadows.


During the half second that a black stem caught a spark and glowed a bright orange, Fenn's eyes narrowed. The world slowed to a catatonic pace, yet Fenn managed to outrun it by a hair. Escaping was crystal clear in his mind's eye.


His dreams had trained him for this moment. Running from the oncoming apocalypse itself was nothing.


The air around him grew weary and gasped. Heat tickled his flank before any sound reached him.


Regret was slower than adrenaline's choking crunch. All Fenn could think about as his paws glided against the stone, launching him in the opposite direction quick enough to just barely catch the shockwave, was how he needed to get away.


That was when the cave suddenly flashed blindingly bright. He could see everything, from the tunnel he emerged from no longer seeming as endless as it was, to the tall figure peering at him right at the end of it.


He neglected to register that last detail as the air screamed right in his ear.


KABOOM!


Washed out with white, soundless but deafening. The ringing was unbearable. It filled his head, pulling at his ears with a million pinches. Constantly, persistent, and agonizing.


Fenn stopped thinking. All he knew was that he got away, considering that he wasn't burning alive, but to what extent was lost on him in the moment. His focus was more on how the ground fell out from underneath him than anything else.


Not only that, but it was sliding. Falling?


There was wind now-


Thud!


"Ah!" Fenn cried silently, no noise being produced whatsoever aside from the crack behind his ear. A sharp pain coursed through his skull, jagged rock stabbing into his fur. The wind suddenly stopped, leaving him, kicked right out of him.


For just a brief moment, Fenn was floating, suffocating in a suspended state.


And then he fell, landing roughly on his right arm with a flaccid thunk. Tiny pebbles pelted his fur from the sky, coating him in dust. Fenn knew by pure instinct that these situations called for him to curl up and cover his head. Even as he did so, he could still feel the room twirling, twirling, twirling around him even as the dust settled.


Ringing, spinning. Spinning, ringing. For several drawn out seconds, that was his existence.


Eventually, gradually, that settled, too. The ringing faded to nothing. The ceiling became the floor again, though Fenn could not determine this exactly with his eyes—the dizziness had only just then subsided. His flame vents itched with cold ash and produced no light.


Blinking away the bleariness was all he could think to do. A churning in his gut directed him to fight back at whatever just assaulted him. Burn them to ash, don't stop until its done-


That was until memories of the past few seconds smacked him across the face. With it, came guilt.


Fenn allowed his body to unfurl. His arm ached, likely bruised in a few places. The chances he had at escaping another explosion were diminished. His head throbbed, and he winced when he reached up to touch it. Fenn couldn't tell if his ears were wet or if that was just the adrenaline. A spot in his fur felt sticky and warm, though. Hopefully the injury was shallow. If not…


No, there was no point in that right now. Either Fenn would be able to stand or he wouldn't. And after a bit of a struggle, groaning and whining, the Quilava was on his feet again. Thank Arceus.


The smell of sulfur lingered in the air. Trying to follow the source was impossible with how the whole cave stank of it now. Fenn had no choice but to light his fire if we wanted to limp out of this room.


Fwoosh!


Fenn gripped his bruised arm, jaw dropped in astonishment. The amount of devastation was…immense. It was as though a giant beast took a bite out of the cave itself and left a pile of waste in its stead. The surrounding walls gaped with chipped rock and black soot, several shards still red hot and glowing. A cloud of dust had yet to settle.


Behind the pile of rubble was a yawning cavern. Despite everything, there was an opening.


It worked.


That was dumb. Really, really dumb. He should have been faster. Or at least gave himself more of a headstart.


"Phew…" Fenn uttered aloud, allowing his fire to dim.


The rubble was rough on his pawpads, digging in and marking the Quilava with little cuts. But he didn't feel them. All Fenn had on his mind was the path ahead of him as he walked.


He whispered, "O-Oswald…" too weak to do much else. "Cosmo…F-F-Finch!"


A few more wary steps and the walls were spinning again. Spinning, spinning…oh no.


Fenn collapsed forward onto his stomach. He coughed. The sound was dry, pained. Flecks of shiny blood painted the pebbles in front of his snout.


It didn't work. Fenn got past the wall, but…


What did it matter if he could barely walk after?


"O-Oswald…" Fenn whimpered. "Cos…C-Cos…"


His head ached, stabbing at him in waves. But it couldn't have been that bad, right? He was okay. He could stand back up and get out of here.


He just had to let it fade a bit first. Yeah, that was it.


That was it…


The cave was so dark. It was hard to tell if it was getting darker because his light was dimming that much, or if he was losing consciousness. Either way, a distant yearning resurfaced. One Fenn hadn't experienced in a long time. A childish, juvenile hope that he would show up again, heal Fenn back to health, and boil some more tea.


He liked that tea.


"Clemat…"


Fenn's eyelids were so heavy. So, so heavy. No matter how much he tried, he just couldn't keep his eyes open.
Wasn't he stronger than this? Why was he falling asleep now when he should have been searching? How could he let them down like this?


He can't…oh, Arceus. It had been such a long day. He couldn't even stoke his fire anymore. All that came out were puny little sparks, leaving him alone in the darkness.


Please, just be okay, he thought helplessly. Just wait…


"W-wait…"




Oo-oO​


There were way more than I expected.


I thought that maybe I'd be dealing with something like four or five ferals with how their claws chittered off the cave walls.


But of course—of-fucking-course—there had to have been at least twenty of the damn things.


I shuddered, taking one step back, then another.


Cosmo's teeth chattered behind me. "There's so many!" he cried. "Where did they come from?"


The light of my scalchop illuminated the cavern ahead of Cosmo and I, as well as the tidal wave of black ink seeping in from the ceiling, the walls, and the floors. Each feral had the claws and insectoid carapace of a Paras, but their shells were a rotten, dark green, accentuated by the murky, milky white of their eyes. Moldy mushrooms lined their backs to the point of doubling some in size, slowing them down.


But that didn't matter. I took yet another step back, and with it, the light receded along with me. The Paras weren't growing any smaller in number. If anything they were closing the distance faster than I could blink.


I gripped my scalchop tighter, holding it in front of me, blade pointed outward in defiance. There was no way I could take all of these on—not with how I nearly got eaten by that last feral.


Did…did it even make sense to call these ferals anymore? Seeing the ways their unhinged jaws frothed with white foam and black ooze made my skin crawl. This was not normal. This was not even real. It couldn't be.


I was in a nightmare and was being forced to fight a wall of rabid insects. If I didn't do something, anything, then I was going to be buried and dragged to hell.


Groaning, I said, "Come on…come on! One thing after another with you!"


By this point I had moved back far enough that the Paras were spilling into the chamber we were just in, fanning over the walls in front of me. I had lost my opportunity to funnel them and I didn't even realize it.


"Oswald…" Cosmo whined, reminding me that he was there. And I was glad he did.


It wasn't just me that would get dragged down here. Cosmo didn't deserve that fate. He should be able to live out a full life on the surface, far away from any of this crap.


No, we had no choice. The inevitable dead end behind us dictated that running wasn't an option. We, or just I, had to fight.


Really had to work to get me into this situation, huh?


A sudden burst of determination hit me like a bolt of electricity. No, it was my fault that we ended up in this situation, and now I'd have to get us out of it.


This was it. It was time that I stepped up.


I can do this, I thought. Just need to…shit, what was the code phrase again-


Just then one of the Paras dislodged itself from the hoard and lunged right for me. An otherworldly, warbly noise escaped its frothing mouth, its claws primed to puncture.


Panic took hold.


Muscles gripped to skin, goading my fidgety arm into swatting this pest away.


Get away. Get away! Get. Away!


The scalchop was swung. Golden light cleaved the air, bisecting the Paras in two. Upper half, mushrooms and all, flew left. Lower half, legs and body, flew right.


All of it splattered onto the ground with no ceremony aside from a quickened beating of my heart.


I killed something again.


Something. That was all it was—something. I couldn't let my emotions fool me. These things were just bits and pieces of the dungeon's disdain for me. Within seconds, I lost track of the dismembered remains, as if it either became one with the ground or reintegrated into the collective. The other Paras didn't even react.


Not like it mattered. There was no time to think—I was a far cry from agonizing over burnt Aipom in a forest somewhere. My next move had to have already been decided seconds ago.


"Oswald, they're coming!" Cosmo screamed.


More Paras were clicking their mandibles, about to lunge.


Here we go. Widen my stance, clutch my scalchop tight…


Breathe…


Open and aim:


ACT: Fudge Cakes!


It was like biting an ice cube at first, or eating a snow cone in reverse. The back of my teeth burned, my gums growing numb. Cold prickled from my chest all the way up to my tonsils. I even got an immediate brain freeze that made me wince, all the extra pressure causing me to cough up snowflakes near the end of the stream.


God damn was it effective, though.


The Ice Beam skewered the blob of Paras, freezing several on the spot. That made them react, as they then had to skitter around the ice, splitting their approaching advancement right down the middle.


I couldn't help but smirk, even as I shivered and grimaced from the headache.


"Don't get comfy!" I jeered. "Aren't any blankets that can warm you up now!"


Nailed it.


"Yeah!" Cosmo agreed. "Get ready to get iced by some real heroes!"


In an instant, I was transported to the windswept fields of some place called Japan. Where chimes shimmered as they rang, grass billowed for the setting sun, and water flowed in streams of sparkling gemstones. I stood in that field with both hands on my weapon, fluid yet sharp. There were a lot of them, sure, but I was a samurai. The best samurai stood their ground and deflected every blow that came their way.


Another Paras lunged, and I was ready. I swung and cut it cleanly, deftly. One more down.


A couple more were sneaking up on my right, and I knew exactly what to do. I turned my head and opened my jaw much wider this time.


ACT: Fudge Cakes!


An icy blast erupted from my mouth, and it was done. Two Paras frozen in place.


My throat numbed, and I tasted something akin to iron on my tongue. The cold spread to my neck at the same time, where frost began to accumulate like a rapidly growing rash.


I ignored it. I had bigger problems to deal with first. Like another Paras that I narrowly stabbed right between the eyes.


It became a rhythm. A back and forth between these slimy bugs going in to attack me, only for my scalchop or Ice Beam to leave them as just slime. All the while Cosmo cheered me on.


As he should, really. It was so…easy. So simple. So natural.


This was it. I did it.


I became a samurai.




Oo-oO​


The sun shined down with the might of a thousand Wood Hammers. Gentle autumn winds blew past and left blades of grass helplessly wavering, bursting with the sharp scent of pollen . A distant bird pokemon played a mating tune, met in kind by a chirp of lustful endearment.


The culmination of these things caused Fenn to sneeze. He wasn't in the cave anymore, as evidenced by how he had to squint and cover his eyes. He was on his back all of a sudden, his snout pointed upward to the open sky. His other paw reached through the grass, searching for purchase, only to touch something soft.


Cotton?


Fenn jolted up to a sitting position. Yes, that was the case: there was a pawful of cotton clutched in his fingertips.


A dream? That made no sense, though the Quilava was quicker to take in his situation than question it. It could have been a trick, or another psychic barrage like in Kelpsy Fields. Had it not been for the green grass, Fenn would have assumed he had taken a snooze amongst the clouds. On all sides, he was surrounded by an ocean of fluffy wool.


Fenn gawked. Any residual heat building in his lower back was stifled. "W-what…?"


A few of the balls of wool turned, revealing black snouts and petite pink noses, as well as pupils shaped like capsules. The Wooloo were just as shocked as he was, though not for the reason he first assumed. A couple of them started giggling, and another brushed up against Fenn's arm. One even snatched the clump of wool right from his paw, taking what was rightfully theirs. He pulled away with a startled gasp, which earned him more giggling.


Fenn's ears grew warm. How did he get here? Wasn't he just-


All of a sudden, Fenn heard a whistle. He, along with many of the Wooloo, perked up at the sound.


A little ways from the crowd of wool was a Gallade sitting atop a tree stump with one leg crossed over the other. He had some kind of string instrument in his hands, idly plucking a note or two. His eyes radiated latent wisdom—focused entirely on Fenn.


The Gallade beckoned. All of the Wooloo around Fenn turned not to look at the Gallade, but Fenn himself.


There went his ears again.


This Gallade obviously knew something. So, carefully stepping around the Wooloo, Fenn answered the call. Well, he didn't do so right away. He was much too flustered to move at first, gripping his arm tight as he glanced between individual Wooloo and the Gallade. It was only after the Gallade made another, more encouraging gesture that Fenn finally moved.


Before Fenn pushed past all of the wool, the Gallade smiled at him, leaning forward with his arms draped over his instrument.


"G'day, son," he said.


Fenn's ears flicked. What an odd accent.


"H-hi," Fenn replied. "Who are…you….?" The "where am I?" was implied.


It wasn't answered.


"Folks used to call me Green," Gallade drawled. "Some still do. What about you, son? Got a name?"


Fenn almost said no. But he reasoned that doing so would be more complicated than just being honest, and Fenn wanted to get out of here as soon as possible.


"F-Fenn."


Green nodded methodically. "You like my flock, Fenn?" he asked.


Fenn blinked. "Your…w-what?"


Again, Green nodded, this time towards the Wooloo behind Fenn. "The babes you were snugglin' with. I can tell they like you, son."


Hearing the word "snuggle" made sparks pop from Fenn's flame vents. He turned his head stiffly, confirming that yes, the "flock" was watching him discretely, giggling and whispering amongst each other. Fenn looked away as quickly as he could. Lingering on the attention filled him with embarrassment.


"See?" Gallade said. "I could offer you a mate or two, if you're lookin'. Gets awfully lonely out here."


Fenn shook his head. "N-no, thank you," he responded swiftly. "I'm uh…a-already taken."


There was never a point in Fenn's life where he could even conceive of speaking those words. Saying it aloud sat weirdly in his mouth, but not in a bad way.


His mind immediately went to Oswald. That Dewott would probably laugh at how flustered Fenn was getting. And then he'd wrap Fenn in his arms and claim him as his own. Of course that would just make Fenn more flustered. Oswald would laugh even louder and….


…Oswald wasn't here. They never left that mine. Oswald wasn't here because he was still there. He was still there.


This field wasn't real. This Gallade wasn't real. The sun was fake, it had to be. Fenn needed to get back to the mine somehow, or Oswald, Cosmo, and Finch would never get out!


Despite how fast his mind was racing. Green's smooth drawl brought the Quilava back down to reality, in a sense.


Green nodded in understanding, saying, "'Spose it makes sense. You're a handsome lad—must got a lot of suitors waitin', eh?"


He sounded like Fenn's grandpa, which only soured the concoction swirling in Fenn's gut further. Weird accent aside, Fenn's grandpa always liked to remind him how lucky his future mate would be. Fenn, being a literal child, never quite grasped what the old Camerupt was saying. He just wanted to play, not think about girls.


Or boys, yet.


Both of them were wrong in the end, but the memories still sat warmly in Fenn's heart nonetheless.


"N-no," Fenn denied flatly. "Just um…j-j-just the one." He looked around himself. "Where…are we?"


To that, Green just shrugged. "Don't quite know, son. Been on the road for days now." He yawned. "God damn. I could use a break."


Fenn could only watch the Gallade stretch out his limbs, a bothersome bout of annoyance eating at his insides. His flame vents burned red.


"H-how did I get here?" Fenn pressed.


Green spat. "Assume you walked."


Fenn stomped his foot in indignance. "S-stop messing around!"


Behind him, several gasps sounded out. Green, in comparison, was undeterred. So much so that a grin spread across his face. "Easy, son," he said with a chuckle. "You'll be back soon. Just thought you needed a break, too."


Fenn's nostrils flared. A break? If hearing that was meant to calm him down, it didn't work. Fenn's flame vents were red hot and steaming now.


Again, the Gallade wasn't bothered. He propped his instrument against the stump and leaned forward.


"Now if you're done complainin', I've got a mighty big favor to ask of you, Fenn."


A favor was the last thing Fenn needed to be burdened with right now.


"N-not right now, sorry," Fenn said. "I have-"


Green put his hands up. "Someone waitin' for ya, I know, I know. Wouldn't have asked if I thought it'd distract."


Fenn frowned. In between the "break" comment and this, he was starting to wonder if Fenn himself was making this up somehow. The Quilava hit his head earlier—was this the result? Dreams of Wooloo and minstrel Gallades?


Worded almost like a warning, Fenn asked, "...What is it?"


"I want you to look after my flock while I'm gone," Green said. "Have some errands to take care of, and you look like you'd be good at that sort of thing."


Fenn balked, his flames finally bursting to life.


"H-huh? But…n-no, no! I-I wouldn't…I can't!"


Green chuckled at that. "What, you callin' me a liar?"


"N…no." Fenn's ears fell against his head. "This is…th-this is too much. I-I just want my Oswald!"


Oh. Oh, that just came out. Oh.


Fenn tried his hardest to ignore the gossip-y chattering behind him, but nothing would stop his entire body from heating up to the point of boiling. He gripped his arm hard.


Graciously, Green didn't tease him for it. Instead, he reached out and rested his hand on Fenn's shoulder.


"I know, bud," Green whispered, his voice tender. "But that's exactly why I know you'll do fine."


Fenn wanted to argue. He wanted to burst into flames and tell Green to find someone else. The words ended up dying in his throat, drowned out by shame. He knew that, even if he tried to argue, his stutter would only make him sound more pathetic.


Arceus, he hated this.


Green stood, much to Fenn's chagrin. He whistled to get the Wooloo's attention and the chatter immediately ceased.


Fenn tried to argue. "I-I really can't-"


"When you wake up," said Green, smiling warmly, "it'll hurt. It'll hurt like hell. But you're a strong guy. You can do it."


Again, Fenn stomped his foot. "S-stop! No, I-"


"Take care of my flock, Fenn. They need someone like you."


His fire reached towering heights. "I-I'm not…I'm not your stupid shepherd!"


Green whistled-




-Fenn's eyes darted open.


Green was right. No longer did Fenn simply ache—the pain in his skull had become a nagging throb that demanded his attention. It pulsed. It leaked. His body wanted to warn him of the danger, but the tiredness pulled him right back down. An entire day's worth of stress caught up to Fenn, and he had no choice but to curl up and groan.


Just like that, he was back in the cave again. With no fire left to light up the rubble around him, darkness sat at his heels, content to wait, and wait, and wait until it was finally over. Eventually, it would eat him alive.


Fenn wanted to go home.


He didn't care if his mother admonished him for running away and causing trouble. He just wanted to see her. It didn't matter to him that his sister was too busy to talk with him anymore, Fenn missed the fun they used to have. Heck, even his father's low temper was preferable to this. There were still good memories mixed in with the bad.


His grandfather would absolutely understand what Fenn had been through. He was old, and a good listener. Fenn could ride on his grandfather's back into the flower fields and-


Oh. Right. Fenn's grandfather had been dead for over ten years. No more mountain rides. No more volcano jumpies either, not with how big Fenn was now.


Those luxuries weren't for Fenn anymore. He lost his privileges when he grew up.


Tears pricked at his eyes. No, no, don't do that, Fenn chastised himself. You can't cry. Not now. You can't show weakness.


But weakness is all I have left
, he reminded himself. It's all I've ever had.


Weakness was what Fenn, and by extension his father, had to escape from. It was his life's goal. And yet, here he was. He realized it right then: there never was any strength in him. Only weakness that grew smaller and smaller.


A warrior was capable of escaping that weakness.


Fenn was not.


He whispered out a nearly imperceptible "I-I'm sorry, Green," to the stale air, still stinking of gunpowder. He wouldn't be taking care of an entire flock like this. Maybe if he said it enough, Green would find someone else and forget about the pitiful Quilava. Maybe then the room would stop spinning.


No light and the persistent pin in the back of his neck made it hard to tell how much time was passing. He was adrift, lost in the endless brine of pouncing stars. Constantly fighting the nausea encroaching upon him.


All of that changed when a faint purple glow faded in and out of his vision.


It was so slight, so insignificant. A glow that barely lit up anything. But here, in the dark beyond dark, the glow became his world.


Blinking, Fenn finally urged the blurriness of his vision to subside. The dull throb in his skull, while still there in spirit, lost his attention. He was finally able to ascertain the source of this glow after focusing on it properly: a small collection of embers numbered in six or seven dancing in front of his snout. All purple, all lively like distant Illumise and Volbeat during mating season.


It made about as much sense as suddenly waking up in a field surrounded by Wooloo. Maybe he was still concussed. The dizziness had yet to fade fully and left him drifting in and out of cohesion. Somehow, though, the embers remained, clearer than the feeling in his own limbs.


A voice played in his mind.


"Take care of my flock, Fenn. They need someone like you."


Fenn whimpered.


"I-I'm sorry…I can't…"


The embers reacted to his words, going so far as to drift even closer. Either because his voice attracted them or it was by sheer coincidence, he wasn't sure. All he knew in that moment was how watching these embers slowed his breath.


It wasn't a flock of Wooloo, or anything, really. But…


The world around him could fall to pieces, throwing the room into disarray without his consent, but the embers remained. Skipping, dancing, prancing, chasing. Like children in play, or mock battle.


Fenn surmised that he could have watched them for hours. He wanted to, when all was so uncertain. The pretty embers gave him solace, reminding him of what a simple joy could be like.


Maybe it wasn't a flock of Wooloo. Maybe it wasn't anything at all. And yet it was all he had down in the belly of the earth. If he could keep these embers lit and comforted, at least he could say he tried.


There was nothing he wanted more than to try. After everything he had been through, it just wasn't fair to end it all with nothing to show for it.


So when they suddenly jolted away, scattering off further into the cave, Fenn paled. His flame vents cooled with his heart as he watched them grow distant.


"N-no, wait!" Fenn cried out. And he rose to his feet, stumbling in the process. A sharp pain made him grit his teeth, his whole body shaking. He could barely walk straight even as the dizziness began to subside. Luckily, they had not scattered far.


The purple embers had stopped shortly after the rubble of the explosion tapered off. Each one was far from the others, spaced out erratically and haphazardly, lost and alone. Something was off. They had seemed so carefree before, what had changed?


Fenn held out his paws and gently cradled one of the embers in between them, catching the faint glow it emitted.


"W-what's wrong?" he asked in a soft voice. It worried him to know that these embers paradoxically produced no warmth. They were even less real than he could've imagined. But again, it didn't matter. He wanted to make sure that these embers would not die out, lest they be forgotten.


The ember did not respond to him. It only slowed, and floated calmly between Fenn's paws.


A sudden sadness struck Fenn. It clung to him, dragging him down to his senses. He struggled to fight away his own tears. Arceus, his head hurt so much. Now, more than ever, he wanted to lay down and wail out in pain.


Fenn said regardless, trembling all the while, "I-it's…it's okay. I'm…okay. D-don't be scared…please."


The ember did not respond. It did, however, brighten just a tiny bit, and Fenn's eyes brightened in turn. The other embers were beginning to accumulate around his paws, as if understanding that Fenn could be trusted. They found their way back together, as one.


Fenn blinked compassionately, slow and controlled. Seeing all of these embers together once more filled Fenn with more satisfaction than he knew what to do with. The dizziness was still there, the throbbing causing his legs to wobble beneath him-


Fwoosh!


-but his fire found its light. He had the strength to stand on his own.


From there, it was all a matter of walking it off. Knowing they were all safe, Fenn was more than willing to follow the embers riding a nonexistent wind into the cave ahead of him, his arms loose at his sides. Step-by-step, he grew more confident in where he put his feet.


Fenn walked the stony tunnel of the cave for a short while with the embers in tow. The Quilava kept remembering what Green said, about taking care of the flock. Guiding others was never a possibility when it came to Fenn's future. Even if he became a leader in any way, warriors fought on their own.


Either way he just accepted that he wasn't good at it.


He carried that adage with him all the way to Kebia. It was only now, as he followed these embers, that Fenn realized that he must have left that adage behind. Because a warrior would never take up the mantle of caring for a flock. It made no sense.


Fenn was no warrior—not anymore—and he was pretty sure this wasn't a flock of Wooloo. If anything, Fenn assumed he was just playing pretend now, making up stories to feel better about his life.


Imagine: a shepherd guiding his little flock of embers through a deep, dark cave in search of his friends. That sounded so silly that it made Fenn laugh just a tiny bit.


It was so, so silly. All of this was. From how he got here to how he ended up with that handsome Dewott. Every day was sillier than the last.


In time, the wide walls of the cavern glowed on their own. Lanterns attached by hooks lit up the mine just as it began to change in texture. The walls shifted from jagged to smooth while buckets and minecarts littered the edges, piled up with rocks. Fenn had stumbled back into the mine during his little journey. But…he had never left it, right? It was always like this.


Well in any case, what was more prevalent became apparent almost as soon as the walls changed. First, Fenn's ears perked up at the sound of something in the distance. A consistent, roaring noise…rushing water? Down here?


Second were the spirals.


It hadn't occurred to Fenn how Ganlon Mine lacked the same strange decorations that the other dungeons always seemed to have. Irregular shapes not often seen in nature blossoming like weeds along the floors were completely absent, until now. Some were small, some were larger, and others were so large that they rode along the walls like cave paintings. Squares, diamonds, and even hexagons were present.


He shuddered. The occasional lantern meant that Fenn no longer needed to expend energy on his flames, but he did it anyway. His shoulders were beginning to feel heavy; this was too familiar to him. Figy Forest flashed in his mind, ringing danger, danger, danger—he couldn't let his guard down.


Meanwhile, the embers flickered around his forehead in rampant anticipation over what would come next. Fenn pulled one of them into his paws as he walked as if to carry it, soothe it.


It was not clear where exactly Fenn was going. The sound of rushing water only grew louder, so with no other leads Fenn followed it.


Finding the stream and its white, foamy surface from there proved to be as straightforward as Fenn hoped. It brought him no closer to his teammates as far as he knew, but at least he had a landmark to work with now.


The water itself flowed through a channel lower than the ground level Fenn walked upon, siphoning through brief openings in the rocks as well as hanging stalactites.


For once, Fenn was feeling good about the progress he was making in this cave.


And then he heard a scream.


Fenn's blood chilled to the bone. In an instant he was on all fours, racing towards the sound like blazing Tauros, hoping Arceus, oh please, Arceus don't let it be him. Anything but that.


Thankfully, Fenn found out what made that noise quickly. He skidded to a stop once he was absolutely sure that it wasn't Oswald or Finch, It sounded like a male voice, but it wasn't either of theirs.


No, Fenn still hadn't found them. What he found instead was a dark-winged bird pokemon facing away with his beak pointed down and standing with his back to Fenn. An actual pokemon not native to this environment, alive.


Was it a pokemon from the castle? Or was he with…whoever used to be that Zangoose? Fenn didn't think about that for very long.


A stream of rushing water to his right, the bird clearly didn't hear Fenn arrive. That changed almost as soon as Fenn noticed the bird outlined by the orange glow of a live torch laying on the ground. Fenn's own flames revealed more detail, like the myriad spiral shaped indents littering the ground and the splash of green wrapped around one of the bird's talons.


A guild pokemon. Fenn sighed with relief and approached. The purple embers still orbited his head, almost seeming to nip at his ears frantically. Fenn, for now, ignored them.


"H-hey!" he called out. "I heard a…a-a scream! Was that-"


Fenn stopped dead in his tracks.


The closer he got, the more detail of the scene was revealed.


The bird was a tall Staraptor, with talons like meat hooks digging firmly into groves within the rocks. His feathers were unkempt, dirty, and needed a thorough preening. His beak was gnarled and sharp, curved to be more angular than the common Staraptor.


Closer still, Fenn's eyes were drawn downward.


That torch wasn't a torch—it was a bone lit at its tip. Like a flame baton wielded by those coastal Marowak Fenn read about once.


It was illuminating a pool of blood.


The Staraptor turned to face Fenn, and in doing so shot a jolt of alarm up Fenn's spine, kicking his flames into overdrive. Smoke billowed out of the corners of Fenn's mouth.


The eyes of this Staraptor were unlike any he had ever seen before. Fenn thought he knew what it was like to stare down a threat, but he was proven wrong instantly. Sharp but hollow irises cut through the shadows and locked right on to Quilava, clawing directly to his deepest anxieties. There was no anger there. No discomfort. No annoyance or frustration. Not even fear.


Just apathy.


"Oh," said the Staraptor, "I don't recall a Quilava in our group. You arrived late."


Fenn hated this mon's voice. Not only was he slow and dry in how he spoke, each word dripped its way out of his beak with the exact same intonation. There was not even a hint of an attempt at crafting a character for himself. He just spoke and that was that.


Was he even a pokemon at this point? He didn't sound like one.


Fenn couldn't form a response. His attention was not on the Staraptor or what he said, it was on what was behind the bird.


There was a body, that much was obvious. It was sat up against the back wall, head hanging limply on its shoulders, blood oozing from a puncture wound in its chest. Right above was a familiar splash of green, a scarf just like the one Staraptor wore. The pokemon was a darker skinned Marowak; the murder weapon was a Corsola Twig, still embedded in the Marowak's chest. Blood flowed into a puddle at the body's base.


Fenn's stomach flipped and he nearly vomited on the spot. Breathing hard, his eyes fell back on the Staraptor.


He had not moved an inch.


"W-wha…wha…?" Fenn tried. "W-w-wha…t? What is…w-what is this?" His fire then blazed like an inferno and he shouted. "What the heck is this!?"


The purple embers scattered, darting about in dismay. One, however, broke away from the group. One of the embers sped right for the dead Marowak, slipping under its mask.


If Staraptor noticed this as he clicked his tongue and stared back down at the body, he did not show it.


"I will admit," he said, "it was sloppy. Amateur."


"You're…y-you're from the c-castle," Fenn breathed.


Staraptor then stared at Fenn intently, his expression unreadable. "As are you," he said. His talon clicked against the stone, and he walked closer.


Fenn took a wary step back. He blurted out, "S-stop!"


Surprisingly, Staraptor did so.


"W-why?" Fenn asked as he trembled. The embers were out of view, but the tickle on the back of his neck told him they were hiding. That granted him some modicum of solace, at least.


"Why?" repeated Staraptor in monotone. "What, do you intend to tell?"


Fenn responded immediately without thinking. "Yes! I-I have to! Y-y-you killed them!"


To that, Staraptor closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. The following exhale made Fenn flinch with its briskness.


"I had no choice, you see," he said. "If I didn't, my secret would be revealed." He looked back at the body. "It was quite the struggle."


Fenn bit back a puff of smoke, incredulous. "S-so…so you k-killed them, for knowing your s-secret?"


Staraptor turned and stared. "No." One step towards Fenn. "I did not kill them for knowing my secret. I offered that information willingly."


Once again, Fenn stepped back. "W-what did you do?"


"'Do?'" Staraptor scoffed. With no irony or humor to support it, the scoff sounded forced. "It is nothing that I did. It is who I am." He angled his head forward, his brow furrowing to compensate for the lack of emotion in his voice. "Please understand, the judgement became too much to bear."


Judgement? Judgement!?


Fenn fumed. "Y-you can't just…you c-can't just kill someone for judging you! Th-that's…"


"Murder," Staraptor finished for him. "Pre-meditated, planned, and carried out. Here, where the sun never shines and few will ever walk. You are correct."


Fenn could barely keep himself from baring his teeth. What made this all worse was how the scarves both the Staraptor and the Marowak wore were the same color. They were a team, prior friends, brought to…this.


He gripped his own scarf and was overcome with a need to see Oswald, Cosmo, and Finch again, just to know that they were okay. He feared that if he didn't see them soon, he'd burn until only charcoal remained. They were somewhere down here with a murderer, this Staraptor.


Fenn's heart beat against his chest. Find them. No more waiting, he had to find them.


At that moment, he would have run. It would not have been difficult to kite this bird, no matter how agile he was. Fenn was smaller, and had range on his side.


But he didn't.


Because right then, he caught something moving out of the corner of his eye. He looked down to find that the pool of blood had created a trail that drained all the way to him. A spiral at Fenn's foot halted the blood, absorbing it into the grooves in the rocks. Fenn found himself transfixed to how the blood swirled along with the shape.


And then, the swirl pattern began to curl inward, sucking into the stone. It formed a solid circle of blood that lifted up in complete defiance to gravity. The blood formed a sphere, and that sphere spun in place. Splatters of blood flew all around, emptying itself, gradually shaving away at the sphere until something new formed.


Born from the blood was an object out of thin air—a glass orb sitting completely clean amongst the mess of red. At the center of this orb was a spiral pattern consisting of two colors: orange and purple.


Everything, from the killer to the pain in his skull to the embers to his missing friends faded from Fenn's mind, all replaced by this one singular object.


372ubW8.jpeg


He recognized this. How could he ever forget it?


The memory rushed back to him before he had the chance to stop it.




(...)


(...)(...)


(...)(...)(...)​


Whywhywhywhy did Fenrir think this was a good idea? This wasn't fun at all!


Fenrir changed his mind, he's a flower boy! He didn't care anymore, Yarrow could call him all the names he wanted so long as they never had to go into this creepy forest ever again!


So what if Fenrir was stronger than the other kids? His father was right. Yarrow's dad was right. Figy Forest wasn't a place for kids no matter how strong they were.


The skies were purple for crying out loud! That's scary! That's really, really scary!


Eugh, Fenrir could still taste the throw-up in his mouth. His leg was really sore, too. He couldn't run without hurting it more.


Luckily, he and Yarrow found a bush to hide in to get away from that big green bug thing. It looked like something right out of Fenrir's nightmares, knives for hands and all. Yarrow called it a Scyther or something? He was too scared to explain what it was, and then he wouldn't talk at all.


Fenrir just didn't know what to do. Yarrow's forehead had a big cut on it and he was shivering. It was bleeding really bad. The leaves Fenrir tried to use on the cut like mama told him once only got all red and sticky. It grossed Fenrir out so much that he couldn't take it! Now there were red leaves all over the ground, right next to a bunch of those weird shapes.


All of this and he couldn't even cry out for his parents. There were still bugs and stuff trying to find them. They had no choice but to stay quiet.


Fenrir didn't think he was cut out to be a warrior anymore.


He knew he wasn't supposed to be afraid, but…he just couldn't help it. How could he not be scared in a place like this? He cried so much that the tears stopped coming.


Fenrir shouldn't have opened his big stupid mouth. Every single time, it only got him into trouble.


Now what? They couldn't even leave! Neither of them knew how!


If only he was stronger, like his dad. If he was a fully grown warrior, this would have been a piece of cake.



"Please…" Fenrir pleaded in a whisper to anyone who would listen. "I wanna be a warrior. Let me be a warrior!"


It was then that something moved out of the corner of Fenrir's eyes. He looked to the leaves, each one jittering like they were being pulled by tiny strings. The blood seeped off of the leaves and onto the ground, leaving them inert. The blood then came together into one big puddle right on top of one of those swirly shapes.


Fenrir watched in awe as the swirl was painted a blood red, only to shift before his very eyes. Yarrow didn't see this; he was too busy cowering. No, this show was for Fenrir and Fenrir only.


The blood formed a sphere, then that sphere melted away, leaving another sphere behind. This one was made of glass, Fenn thought. At its center was this really weird orange and purple pattern. Fenrir had never seen anything like it.


But as soon as it entered his sights, he wanted it more than anything else in the world. Because it was his.


He didn't even know how or why, but this orb made him feel strong. He crawled over to it and gingerly picked it up with his paws, forgetting all about the danger right outside. Immediately, a surge of courage hit him to the point of drying every tear he had ever shed.


Where it came from or how it got there didn't matter to Fenrir. All that mattered now was that he was a warrior with this sphere in his paws. Well and truly so.


It began to glow. A silent question was asked, something that only Fenrir could hear:



"Speak with your actions, little one. Let your flames burn holes into the scriptures you utter. Only then may you scorch the earth with your silhouette. Do you accept?"


And Fenrir said:



"Yes."


(...)(...)(...)


(...)(...)


(...)​




The mega stone. Fenn had a mega stone at one point- he remembered now. But he left it in the dungeon, his dad showed up before he could even use it. All he was left with was a stutter and some really bad ideas.


It was gone. He lost it, never to be found again no matter how many times he searched for it. After a while he just forgot about it.


Yet this was the very same mega stone. He'd recognize it anywhere. Why was it here? How was it here? Why now of all times?


An old buried fit of resentment bubbled up to the surface. This stone, this hallowed thing was to blame for so much. Back then, after Yarrow left and his grandpa died, Fenn knew that the only way to make up for it was to find this stone. Become the powerful warrior he needed to be. Only then would his life go back on track and everything would be alright again.


Fenn dreamed of it, fantasized what it would be like to find it again. Channeling its power felt like such a distant idea.


And now here it was, right after Fenn decided that it was all just a fantasy.


Just like then, he knew that if he had this stone, he would be stronger. He could find Oswald, Cosmo, and Finch without a problem. His flames would scour the caves, uncover every secret and burn a path forward.


It was what he needed. Yes, it was too late for Fenn to be a warrior, but that didn't mean he couldn't protect the ones he cared about.


Fenn took a step forward to reach for it-


A dark shape lunged for Fenn. Even as it hit him square in the chest and toppled him to the ground, Fenn's thoughts were more focused on how he'd get stone in his paws than fighting back, at least at first.


By the time the Quilava finally regained his composure, heat building in his maw, the smoke was knocked out of him. A heavy claw grasped his neck in a vicegrip, making Fenn gasp in shock.


The Staraptor stood over him, on him, his entire weight keeping Fenn pinned to the ground. His beak was curled into a frightening scowl. In contrast to the emotionless manner in which he regarded Fenn before, the Staraptor exploded into anger.


"Say it!" he growled. "I'm a murderer! A cold, heartless murderer!"


Fenn gagged—the claw was crushing his windpipe, squeezing the air right out of him. He tried to shout and wrench himself out of the Staraptor's grip, but all he ended up doing was flailing with eyes nearly popping out of his sockets.


How could he have let this happen?


Staraptor was shouting now. "I can't let them know! They're all liars and cheaters! They'd throw me away without a second thought!"


His fire—Fenn had to use his fire. That was the only way out of this, or this maniac would kill him.


Fenn pushed from deep within his chest, calling up the last bit of air he had left in his lungs to power a burst of flame accumulating behind his teeth. He opened his mouth aimed right towards the Staraptor's beak.


But before Fenn could unleash it, there was a ripping sound, and a sharp stinging pain across his chest. That alone made the fire die out, but Staraptor made sure that this wouldn't happen again. His second talon fell on Fenn's face, pushing it roughly to the side, out of the way. Fenn wheezed and spittle flew from his mouth.


Now with the full weight of the Staraptor on top of him, Fenn couldn't move a muscle above his shoulders. If he wasn't panicking before, he was now.


"Look at what you made me do," he said. "Is the world so set on torturing me?"


His grip tightened. Fenn couldn't breathe.


As the sides of Fenn's vision began to blur and darken, he heard Staraptor say, "I killed once, because I had to. What's one more?"


Fenn's face was pushed aside at quite possibly the cruelest angle. The mega stone sat mere feet from him, still waiting for him to take it as his own.


If he could only use it. He would save himself, kill this crazy bastard, and finally get out of here.


But no matter how far he stretched his arm to its absolute limit, he just couldn't reach it.


This was it. Fenn had failed. So close…yet so far. He was losing consciousness by the second. His life was slipping away.


Oswald…


However, amidst the sea of growing apathy, six purple lights shone back near the cave wall. The body was still there, now surrounded by the purple embers.


It was standing up.




Oo-oO​


With a shout, I plunged the blade down into the Paras, severing it in two. This was the loudest of my screams yet, filled with achy frustration and an urge to get this all over with.


My god, I could barely keep myself standing anymore. In between the exhaustion, the long spent adrenaline, and the ice still—still—clinging to my lungs even after I stopped spewing Ice Beams twenty Paras ago, I was just about ready to give up.


The next Paras that lunged gave me no time to rest or celebrate, and I stumbled back with the scalchop still in my paw. By this point I had seen every approach these ooze-filled creatures could take, outside of climbing out of the earth itself. The only difference was in how I had to swing my weapon.


This next one fell directly from the ceiling, so I arched my swing upward. Both sides of its body fell on either side of me, but not before splattering me with disgusting juices. Not quite blood, but not quite what their shells were encased with either.


Whatever. I threw up my lunch at least thirty Paras ago. Who cares anymore if it smelled like rotten eggs and garbage in here—I had to live. For Cosmo. For Fenn. Hell, even Finch.


I stopped counting after a while. I thought I reached fifty? They were still coming regardless, not even slowing down. Cosmo and I had to back up two chambers behind us just to not get overwhelmed.


I was panting hard. Every bit of my body shook violently, feeling the freezing cold and scorching heat all at once.


"Oswald…" Cosmo whined, and I knew what he wanted to say. The words just never came out. I knew he was scared, but godammit I was trying my best out here. Did he not think I considered running before?


"I can do this," I said. My voice was husky, gravely, tongue like sandpaper in my mouth. "I'll get us out of here. I'm channeling like…ten samurai movies right now, Cosmo. Believe me…I'm not giving up!"


Cosmo didn't respond. That was okay, he didn't need to.


He stopped believing in me well before now.


Again, a Paras lunged. This time, though, it came at a weird diagonal angle. My immediate thought was to swing right, only that I misjudged exactly where it would be. The light phased over the Paras' head, missing it by an inch.


It used its momentum and free reign to cling to my arm and bite down. The agonizing pinch reverberated throughout my entire body.


"AH FUCK!"


With my other arm, which I used purely for balance before, I grabbed my second scalchop and plunged it into the Paras. It fell with a wet splat on the floor, defeated, but the damage had already been done.


Cosmo screamed. "Make it stop! Please please please please!"


Dropping to one knee, I held my paw up to my injured arm. The bite mark was a nasty mix of blood and ooze and soot from earlier. None of it had been washed off. So fucking gross.


My breathing slowed and my stomach threatened to make me vomit again. I was getting lightheaded now that I was off my feet. Just like that, with no energy to work with, I could barely move. Who could have expected that it would all catch up to me the second I lost focus?


And even after that, the corridor ahead of me was filled to the brim with rabid Paras, painting the darkness in an even deeper black and green. I hadn't made a dent.


There was no winning this. Did I ever have a chance? Or have I been going about it all wrong?


Fuck…FUCK! I thought furiously. What do I do?


Cosmo was blabbering incoherently, crying his little eyes out, I could hear it. Even he knew that we were running out of time.


I promised myself that I'd get him out of here. But now what? How could I possibly manage that?


The Paras were getting closer…closer…


What can I do?


Maybe I'd never get out of this alive. But Cosmo, he probably wasn't tired at all. He could escape. Or find help. I just didn't know if he could do it in time, though.


You know what? Who cares? If we're both doomed, then I didn't want him to see me go down. He didn't deserve that.


"Cosmo," I said, fighting to sound calm, "go find uncle Finch. Or Fenn, doesn't matter."


Cosmo stopped crying immediately. That seemed to work. Except his voice was filled with distress. "O- wha, no! No, no, no!"


He was fighting back against it? What…? Okay, didn't matter.


I commanded him, "Cosmo, do it. Listen to me…and do what I say: find. Finch. Do it now."


"No…" Cosmo whimpered.


"Cosmo."


He sniffled. "...Okay…Cosmo will. He will! Cosmo will save you, Oswald!"


When I looked over my shoulder, I caught Cosmo rushing off back the way we came. There were still a few ways we didn't go, a few paths not taken. His luck hadn't run out yet.


Mine, though…


I looked back at the encroaching hoard. The Paras had formed a wall of disgusting black ooze. A sludge with its own consciousness, complete with a giant ghastly face fixed in an expression of abject horror and malice. Its eyeless sockets were angled right for me.


I said, "About time you showed your face." Shakily, I stood back on my two feet.


"Don't mess with me. I may look like hell, but I'm a real samurai!"


It took everything in me to lift that scalchop one more time. This was it. One thought resurfaced in my mind in spite of all of this.


Fenn…




Oo-oO​


The Marowak's mask hid his eyes. The bone white of the skull peeked out just barely from the shadows, illuminated only by the dwindling flame of the bone at his feet and the embers dancing around it.


But Fenn knew, even as the life was being choked out of him, that the Marowak was looking right at him. He rose slowly, but not once did the skull change position or direction.


There, he stood, rigid and lifeless. One hand reached for his chest, and pulled the Corsola Twig out without flinching. The other hand reached down and grasped the flaming bone.


Fenn couldn't breathe. Everything was beginning to waver and fade. He couldn't hear the water anymore, nor his own heartbeat.


Silence prevailed. He was dying.


But his gaze never deviated from the Marowak. He watched with his final breaths as the Marowak trudged closer to the water, only to hold the bone club up. The embers followed the fire to an alcove next to the shore.


Fenn didn't notice it before. He was too distracted.


But he saw it now. In that alcove was a bundle of dynamite, now being circled by the purple embers.


His savior.


But what about the mega stone? Fenn thought. Briefly, he peered at it instead. What would happen to it?


The Marowak turned his head robotically, facing Fenn once more. Then, he tossed the Corsola Twig onto the ground. It clattered inaudibly for Fenn.


For Staraptor, it was as loud as the rushing stream. He jolted, and in the process loosened his grip on Fenn just enough for him to build up a Flame Burst.


Even while he was pinned down, aiming for the bundle was second nature to Fenn. He unleashed a spurt of fire barely larger than the purple embers.


The moment before disaster was as long as Fenn's entire existence. He used that time to promise himself to find that mega stone before it would get washed away.


He needed that power.


The dungeon thought otherwise.




Oo-oO​


KABOOM!


I flinched, losing my balance instantly. The explosion was distant, happening somewhere far off in the cave. The very foundation of the mine shook in response.


One second I was staring down a wall of Paras, and the next that face they conjured was being washed away by a torrent of water.


"What the-"


It came for me. Throwing me under before I had the chance to gain my bearings.


I tumbled, falling into complete darkness.

Author's Note - 10/24/25

I think I wrote about 8000 words in the span of five days before finishing this one. Once I was in the zone, I was very excited to get to certain bits in this chapter. And even then I had more planned that got pushed up to the chapter after this one.

Chapter art was completed by a good friend and reader of this story Hyden Hyrolur. If you're reading this on FFN still, then you won't see it. AO3, PMDFF, and Thousand Roads are all versions of this story with occasional art pieces.

I actually have a few more pieces of art to show before the end of this arc. Including one that I've been sitting on for over 2 years now. Hopefully I can squeeze in one more chapter before the end of the year.

Thanks, as always, to my betas: Bonehead, Dust_Scout, LukerUpgradez, NikelNani, and Timelocke.

Thank you to you, too, for reading. See you next time.
 

Kiba Makuro

Pokémon Trainer
Location
Adventuring through Mystery Dungeons
Pronouns
He/Him, They/Them
Hi Snap, sorry for the delay. I'm here for P-Wheel covering Flowerbeds Chapter 12 Day 6- Crashing Waves.


I feel like the title should be ‘raging storm’ but crashing waves definitely fits with how things are being shaken up. So first we have Oswald trying to have a normal morning with Fen. But then comes Calluna. She's been spying on him for so many days and asserts that he will go see Anemone and that is certainly a thing that happens.


It's not like everything is bleak for Oswald, as he does have a few Pokémon who care about him, but we'll see that later.


I'm further intrigued with Anemone's power/curse, if ghosts can resist the thought reading to an extent, then what about steel or poison-type Pokémon? I suppose they aren't helpful spies in relation to dark-types so that'll be saved for later. Also reading the subconscious thoughts and memories of Pokémon even when they don't think about them seems quite overpowered. Though anytime Oswald brought up Fenn, he probably was faintly thinking of Grepa Lake. This thought shenanigans reminds of a twisted ‘mc/villian is crazy smart shonen series with crazy powers galore’. Though I believe this is the early 2020-2022 prevalence of extremely overpowered types like Psychic or Fighting in pmd writing, that tip the scaling a bit. Ghost-types can phase through walls like in pmd and in the anime which lets them spy on dark-types, though with their strength shouldn't they sense them coming, anything to equal the playing field. Though we haven't seen too many dark-types yet so that'll be interesting.And Calluna has told his secret to some other people including Aster, we don't see till later but that's definitely frustrating because Oswald's not allowed to talk about it.


Oswald seems to have the idiot ball in these early chapters, specifically when it comes to Pokémon who are in charge in this land or simply stronger than him. I believe I am seeing some signs of further stagnation, which would otherwise kill a story, but Flowerbeds has a reputation that surpasses it.


It doesn't help that almost everyone hates Oswald and many want to kill him.Some of these conflicts seem a bit artificial in a way, like with Swift as opposed to Team Phlox, who Oswald doesn’t even care about anymore but Fenn does. With Swift it's the classic, Master's other pupil dynamic but he doesn't actually say the reason to try and kill Oswald, it can be implied that it ‘shows up randomly one day, and gets into the Kebia Guild, and as a student under the Allium’ supremely pisses off Swift. I do think it would be felt more if he just either seethed quietly during the sparring session and just left or just started a fuss the second he noticed Oswald. I enjoyed the action of each sparring session, particularly Master vs Student. Oswald wasn't too bad either, dodging well, I suppose he still has a long way to go against Swift or anyone besides weak ferals. Allium trusts him so that's nice.


Back to other areas I enjoyed, I'm really excited with new plot development with the kingfisher device, and summoning objects, and now humans. Oswald’s probably the only one who can use those keys to open up the box and Larkspur summoned him just to do that. Though not if Anemone has anything to say about that, if she can even stop him. The dynamics between Anemone, Calluna, Marigold, and Aster among any others of the advisors/trusted staff is quite fun. The Gardevoir definitely wants to not appear despotic, hiding away underground not to get annoyed by everyone and lock/kill them for questioning her rule, but it doesn't really work when you choke out a guy for giving a bit of lip, though she didn't break his bones so “it's fair”. Calluna's two sides are very fair considering she enjoys her position at Kebia Castle, a little bit too much since she's blabbering Oswald’s secret and spying, but tries to soothe Anemone's feelings on her own image and give her some company without overwhelming her mind. I do wonder what others think about them, though Fenn seems to be embarrassed about Calluna, who may already know his persuasion if you catch my drift.


Quite the bit of stakes there compared to the last meeting if I recall correctly, and it does feel like Oswald shows a backbone, a bit too forward against Anemone though, he should have saved that for Team Phlox yesterday. But he's learning the Palmtre way of life, and getting a bit of an idea that he needs to be careful. Fenn is awesome, but can't save Oswald, though his mere presence is enough to comfort him, no matter what.


Speaking of Fenn, it's also nice to see his backbone when he sees Team Phlox in the cafeteria, though it's not at the right time, missed rival fight. Just like Fenn he has quite a bit of learning and growth to do regarding Kebia Guild life. It looks like he has not only his Father and his Grandfather's wishes weighing on top of him, it's realistic Though I do wish we got to see him at work with all those house buildings but oh well, he's cute so I forgive you.


That's all I have for now, I enjoyed this chapter and look forward to reading more Flowerbeds in the future. Keep up the good work!
 
Chapter 58 - Day 19, Part 8: The Prelude Date New

SnapDragon

Frog on a mission
Pronouns
He/Him
Chapter 58: Day 19, Part 8 – The Prelude Date


Ganlon Mine: 3rd floor


Now was a really bad time to remember that I sucked at swimming.


I vaguely recalled that I nearly drowned, once, in another life. The panic, the water in my lungs, the darkness all around me and the bubbles escaping to the surface—it was all there. The memory invaded my subconscious, as if to remind me of the futility behind this impossible situation. Human-me barely got out of there alive. How could Oswald do the same?


The reminder only served to annoy me more than anything else. It was the first time I was unhappy that my humanity was much of a factor. None of my human sensibilities and habits were helping me reorient myself under these dark currents. I sucked at swimming then, sure, but I had a tail now. My body was made for this.


Not only that, but I had to be more than ready to start swimming once the flood hit me. It wasn't everyday that a mineshaft fills with so much water that each corridor becomes a river in its own right. Had I been anyone else—not Oswald—then this wouldn't have been a problem.


Unfortunately, I was still Oswald, and that guy couldn't swim to save his life.


The water pushed against me like a torrential bully. I clenched my teeth, letting out muffled grunts, extending out my limbs for a grip, only to grasp nothing but rushing water. I didn't even know if I was near a wall, let alone rightside up.


I spat. I screamed. I called out for help. But all that emerged were bubbles full of dead air.


Bam, another memory battered my mind. I was in another situation just like this again. Pulled down a river, scrambling for control—only to never find it. I was here, I was there, monochrome midday blunders under a pure black sun. Reality and memory were blending together.


Irritation flared and burned red hot at my ears. Not helpful!


For a second, I resurfaced, and the memories were washed away. Fresh cave air tasted like mold on my tongue, not unlike licking damp moss left after the rain. My limbs flailed, inadvertently pushing my torso back into the water. It all crashed over me before I had the chance to process it, the sounds of the world muddled by the murky, freshwater froth.


My own screams sounded so distant and helpless. Everything was falling so fast.


Beneath the waves, another memory hit me, like a flash of lightning briefly illuminating the cave. The walls half-buried in water became overridden with light, outlined into a mishmash of past and present.


There, I saw an ocean behest by a raging storm, clouds jagged and angry like weathered cave spikes. Then it was gone once I peeked back past the surface of the mineshaft's current, darkness swallowing the vision whole.


I tried to reach out once more, only for the back of my wrist to jolt with a sudden snap of pain. Black flashed red. I yelped so hard that my vocal chords strained.


Was something broken? Did I slap the wall? Shit, I didn't know. The alarm blaring in my hand did little to assuage the worry that I just screwed myself. Pain searing through madness, I fell under the waves once again.


One more memory—really hammering it in at this point—and this one threw me for a loop. I saw a face—unfortunately not belonging to any human. A pony with a red mane and a sharp, dagger-like horn stared at me sadly. They held a subtle curve of the lip and lock of the jaw, so emblematic of words left unspoken despite their endless sorrow. I didn't recognize them.


Behind them were those same gray clouds, not yet jagged, but far from soft. Dreary, as if more bad news would finally push out its tears to rain down onto the ocean below.


My panic momentarily dulled, replaced with an odd sense of guilt that I couldn't place. The image lingered, and for some godforsaken reason wrenched at my heart while telling me to remember, remember, remember!


I still couldn't see past the speckled darkness of the mineshaft, but that didn't stop me from clenching my eyes shut tight.


Not! Now!


Before I knew it, my scalchop was in my paws. A burst of light split the unending dark wide open just as I swung downward, stabbing the rock floor below me. The sensation was like cutting stale bread with a butter knife. Gaining a foothold proved to be an exercise in frustration, and the only position capable of halting my tumble was crouching forward and around the scalchop.


This, along with the blade being half-lodged in the rock, gave me barely any light to work with. Still, it was enough; the current wasn't winning anymore. Memories stopped flowing long enough for me to focus on the roar of the water in my ears. It pulsed all around me, kicking up sediment past my sticky, soot-covered fingers. My left hand ached, a thin red streak leaking from between my fingers, forming a pungent abyssal ink.


I wish I never entered this stupid mine.


My breath hitched. Air escaped my throat faster than I could think. My lungs strained against the buckets of water I tried my damndest to keep out, progressively losing out every step of the way.


Of course, I wasn't a fish—how could I forget? Maybe I was a goddamn mutant with gills in my past life because how the fuck else could I think hunkering down under the water was a solution? Just because I can hold my breath for a while doesn't mean I can breathe underwater.


Dumbass! I screamed at myself. Get up! Get out!


Trying to move just made me wince, leading me to hack up bubbles of air. What the hell did I hit this time? I barely did anything!


I tried again, and regretted it. If the numbing ache in my arms was any indication, I pushed too hard at some point. Everything hurt.


My heartbeat thrummed across every strung taut vein. Fighting all of those ferals didn't seem like such a good idea anymore. I didn't have much adrenaline in me to begin with, let alone enough to last me a fight against this roaring rampage.


Holding on wasn't going to work either, what with how I actively had to wrestle with the current. I was swaying, lightheaded, no air managing to reach my lungs. Letting go would be so easy…


No! Shut up for once!


Gripping the scalchop, I pulled back. My body immediately lurched, but I knew better than to let it send me tumbling again. Every inch of my body was begging me to just stop, let it end, and like hell I was going to give it what it wanted.


As I was pushed back, I used one last bit of momentum to kick against the floor. It carried me upward, the light of my blade highlighting the surface of the water a gleaming gold. My chest was heaving now—I had one chance.


I kicked more, and that was when panic marked my deathbed. I wasn't moving no matter how much I forced my legs to do so. My arms? Not happening—all they did was betray my hard-earned balance. And that tail of mine was downright useless. The spiral of doom was overtaking me by the second.


This stupid, skinny, malnourished, waste of skin couldn't save me when it mattered most. Why couldn't I have been given a better body to work with?


Why couldn't I have died and woken up as someone better!


My limbs flailed. The meager light was growing even dimmer, faint faces full of laughter at the edge of my vision. I hated every single one of them.


It was in that moment, overwhelmed with ferocity and bitterness, that my body did what it always did when I couldn't control my emotions: it betrayed me.


My tail slapped the water like the crack of a whip, swatting my ass so hard that it gave me that little bit of extra boost I needed.


Sound exploded into vibrancy once I breached the surface. Shocked to attention, sweet air assailed my newly freed lungs with my next desperate gasp, curdling into skull-rattling coughs. My mind was clear; no more unwanted memories.


That didn't stop the tide, however. It continued to batter me, tossing me all about. My scalchop bathed the cave walls in brilliance, finally giving me just enough of a glimpse at the absurd amount of flooding ahead of me before I was tossed right back under.


Lightning flashed. Thunder roared. My heart pounded irritably in my ears.


God, give me a break!


But okay, I managed it once. That ever present drum beat was level now, each beat in constant, consistent rhythm. I could do this. Kicking off the rocks got me far, but my tail got me farther. I didn't have time to figure out how to make this paddle swing, though, so the best option was to get angry again.


That wasn't exactly difficult, given the circumstances. I let myself drift to the bottom of the stream, kicked down, and twisted up. The splash only came after I thought about how I wanted to strangle myself for giving away our only Escape Orb like a DUMBASS. How I wanted to beat myself senseless for letting Fenn out of my sight for a single second in this place.


I should've known better then, but at least I knew better now.


With another gasp, I was above the water again. And with proper light thrust above my head, I got right to work trying to find something to grasp onto.


My answer came in the form of a snapping sound right by my ears, and the sudden jerking of my arm. Something got caught on the edge of my sword and immediately gave. Two thin shadows were cast as headless snakes along the walls.


This got me to look up. A spiderweb of vines stretched from unseen foliage in the ceiling, dense with deep green leaves, crawling out of any crack in the rocks it could find. Everywhere I looked was one part stone, one part flood, one part jungle. Somehow this still counted as the same mineshaft.


By the time I was falling back under the waves, into the abyss where I belonged, I decided to not let it happen again.


Because when the ocean took over my mind once more, I caught a glimpse of the sun shining through the clouds within my mind. This storm wouldn't last forever.


This sudden bout of resolve would've surprised me had I the chance to think about it. Instead my head was overloaded with thoughts of hurry, faster, please hurry, I beg of you. This wasn't just adrenaline pumping through my veins—I had no space to feel anything at that moment.


Fear gripped me like a vice—so much so that the dark faces at the corner of my vision started to look friendly. They were nothing compared to the possibility that I couldn't manage to reach the surface a third time.


The muscles of my arms stretched to reach further than my body would allow, my legs kicked up a whirlwind, and my tail, graciously, lended me one last favor.


Splash.


Thoughts overlapped.


Hurry, find a vine.


Grab one, before it's too late.


Ow, my hand hurts.



It was all a blur. I was spectating myself desperately reach out, missing one vine as it lightly tapped my wrist. The next one was a guess; I couldn't have possibly known that it was there.


But it was. My fingers locked onto the vine like my life depended on it.


The whiplash made me howl, the added momentum throwing me against a wall with a thunk.


All the air in my lungs was suddenly stolen from me. I was getting ripped apart by a stretcher.


My injured hand was all I had to keep me afloat, and I was putting my everlasting trust in it not to fail me. Miraculously, my fingers held true.


I somehow had the strength to lunge with the other side of my body and throw myself onto the vine fully. Ragged breaths wracked my form, gasps and wailing cries reminding me that this body was still managing in spite of it all. It didn't feel real. I wasn't in full control.


The water was flowing against me, but for the first time since I was pulled under, I was living.


"Shiiiit…" I whispered in a raspy voice, trembling hard. "What the hell, man?"


Deep breaths. Deep breaths. Look up.


My scalchop was barely visible under the water, but even that was enough to shine bright against the absolute darkness. The current was relentless—thick with white foam. The foliage above was overrun like an actual canopy of trees in a jungle.


Still in a mine, right? Ugh.


My head sagged. I needed time to think.


Well, too bad, the dungeon wasn't going to give me any. My head snapped right back up in alert at the sound of a scream coming from up from further into the mineshaft.


My heart sank. Although it was distant, I recognized the voice immediately.


"Wait- Fenn!" I shouted.


"Oswa-!" came a shout back, but it was cut off, frantic, terrified.


My heart exploded with hundreds of emotions at once. Relief, horror, guilt, sorrow, and even hatred. For what and for whom was lost in a scatter of shrapnel and sand.


My grip tightened. The vine was managing to hold this entire time, thankfully, allowing me to grasp it with one paw and hold aloft the light with the other. Craning my neck, I bellowed up the current of the stream.


"Fenn! Fenn, are you okay!"


"O-Oswald!" Fenn squealed. It sounded closer this time. That could only mean one thing…


I squinted against the spray of the rushing water. It was bad enough having to sort through the dark and dense foliage, but now I had to look out for someone in the water, too?


I struggled to hold the scalchop higher, fighting against the burning in my arms. I yelled out, "I'm here! Fenn, I'm here!"


I got another response, and the sheer desperation behind it made me want to throw up. "P…please…! I-I can't…!"


His voice was growing fainter. Why was his voice getting fainter?


My eyes darted from one wall to the other, my own heartbeat a timebomb affixed behind my eyes. I swore that the splashes of water in my face were obscuring more now, blending waves into vines into splotches of murky nonsense. I had to get my bearings—I was a water type! Fenn, he could probably count the amount of times he'd even touched water on one hand!


"Just…just hold on!" I cried, trying my best to reassure myself just as much as Fenn. "I'm here! I'm…I swear, I'll-"


There! Right at the edge of the light, something was bobbing in and out of the water, tumbling down the stream just like I was. One part dark color, one part light color—Fenn. Framed like some glorious painting with a trimming of glossy glass shards.


"O-Oswaaaa…" the Quilava tried, each gasp filled with pained, warbling noises.


He was on the complete opposite side of the wall. Far, far from my reach on the vine.


I had seconds to react. If I didn't, he'd slip right by me to who-knows-where. Knowing dungeons like I did, that could be a pit with no bottom.


Every inch of my body was fighting against me, restraining me. As far as I could remember, I had never once been this exhausted. And yet, that pain was nothing compared to the thought of failing to save Fenn here.


I'd rather die.


"FENN!"


I abandoned the safety of the vine, tossing it to the side just for that extra boost. It was my tail that pushed me to the other wall in the end, my lower half twisting. The endless crashing of time finally slowed for me. Droplets froze in the air, and my body felt weightless.


The outer lining of my skin tingled—shimmered, even. Primed to leap right off my shoulders. A single blissful instant resided as a snapshot within my mind, of braving the waves against the uncaring malice of an ocean storm, my muscles peeling at their edges and my ears ringing until nothing but the yearning for safety—my refuge, was left. I called out for my god to preserve my soul. Bless me, oh god please, so that I may survive this.


Lightning flashed bright white, my prayers answered.


Thunder crashed against my chest, tossing me back into the mine.


Sounds that were previously muted reached reality—my reality. That of which included wet fur, and arms that hurriedly reached around my shoulders and shivered for warmth.


Red eyes looked into mine. They pleaded with me. Always pleading.


I yelled out in some mixture of exertion, victory, and agony as I thrust the blade of my scalchop into the wall. It caught. It cut. Then it stuck. Not firmly, but firmly enough.


Finally—finally—my panting slowed. Time flowed naturally again.


"I got you," I uttered. "I got you…"


His pupils were jittery and traumatized, but the stammer in his voice made his gratitude clear.


"O-O-O...Oswald…"


The Quilava nestled into my chest, shivering horribly. Feeling this, it struck me just how cold these waters were; I had been too distracted to notice before. I never had the chance to shiver from the cold, myself.


"I'll get us out of here," I breathed. "I will, just- ah!"


I winced, feeling my fingers slipping. Holding back against this rapid current with just my arm wasn't going to last unless I was planning on pulling something.


Fenn whimpered. "O-O-Oswald…I'm sorry…!"


I shook my head, biting back pain. "I said I'll get us out of this!"


"I-I never should have-" Fenn started, but never finished.


At that moment, the Quilava was yanked out of my grasp with a yelp and a splash. A couple tiny sparks burned holes into my vision, his eyes looking up at me in shock, then dissipated.


"Wha- Fenn!" I shouted.


My composure collapsed like a tower of dominos. One second I was in control, the next my own lack of focus eliminated any light from the tunnels. With it, my connection to the wall was severed.


I tumbled backward. Complete darkness washed over me just as the water did.


My muffled screams made it sound like I was being strangled, yet somehow my first thought was to flail my arms as though that would do anything.


Ocean waves crashed. In the distance, a ship bobbed in the storm, still upright despite the perilous conditions. I reached out for it- no!


I wasn't supposed to be here—or there, I mean. I was supposed to be with Fenn. In the mineshaft, where I couldn't see anything. How was I supposed to focus on something I couldn't see?


Fear set my mind ablaze. Every ounce of power I might have had kept me blind, despite the coarseness scratching at my palm.


Where did he go where did he go where did he go?!


The cold, the heat, the pain, the fear, all crushing me with a thousand tons of- let me see let me see let me see!


There were screams all around me, but whose were they, dammit? Were they mine? Were they Fenn's?


Where was I supposed to look? Was I right side up? How do I get out of this?


Through it all, red hot anger flared brighter than the sun.


Why won't you give me a break!


That caused my scalchop to finally wake up. The waters of the mine shone with gold in an instant.


The first thing I saw was a gargantuan, beaked face with eyes that bled oily malice, glaring back at me. With feathers black as night, and a wingspan as wide as the cave itself, there was nothing indicating to me that this creature had not been birthed by the vileness this dungeon exuded. In fact, it and the cavern might have been one and the same.


Although I froze as if struck, I did not linger for long. In the talons of this creature was a Quilava. My Quilava. Terror was written on his face.


It confused me as to why Fenn wasn't struggling. That was, until I realized, and fully came to terms with the possibility, that this Staraptor was not meant for even my most vivid of nightmares. His visage burned a hole in the fabric of this dungeon's grand design—a pang in my subconscious telling me thus:


'Stop him!'


Not ten seconds had passed since I fell under the water. I was face-to-face with the Staraptor sometime in the midst of that, but our paths hadn't crossed directly. The bird was actually swimming past me, around me.


A muffled scream hit my ears. It wasn't mine.


I swung my arm against the current. Slow as it was, the Staraptor was no more alert than I assumed he would be. The blade clipped his leg—not the one holding Fenn, but it led to the Quilava being dropped nonetheless. Neither of us were really prepared for this. This led to the bird's beak wretching open with a horrid noise—a siren that blasted my eardrums out.


I blinked, certain that the split second lapse of agency would leave me bleeding out under the waves. But instead, the sound was cut off abruptly.


Just as the Staraptor went to slash at me, an arm reached from around him and pulled tight around his neck. Seemingly out of nowhere, the dark walls of the cave receded with the wings, sucked away.


A red haze replaced it, and that cloud of red wore a fractured mask half covering a face so disfigured that it made me nauseous. All bone and muscle and dark cavities. A pair of eyes peered out from behind that mask, bloodshot but understanding.


They reminded me of my own.


My ears rang. The Staraptor disappeared from the light of my scalchop. Fenn was falling.


For once, my tail decided to listen to me and gave me the boost I needed to lurch and grab Fenn with my free arm. From there, I let my tail paddle me upward, guiding us above the waves once more.


I gasped. At the surface, the air was stale, warm, musty—good enough for my tired lungs. The smell of blood and soot wriggled its way into my nostrils, only leaving when I heard coughing below my chin.


Fenn clung to me like I was his only hope. Eyes shut tight, shivering even harder than before, he muttered something I couldn't hear over the rushing water.


Seeing him so frightened and weak made my heart ache like hell. He was barely more than a freezing kitten at this point. God, how did this even happen?


Just keep paddling, Oswald, I told myself. Focus on staying afloat.


I managed just that with my tail, what with it being the only part of me that wasn't throbbing in pain. It pushed me and Fenn through the water effortlessly, instinctually, like a figment of my consciousness rising up to assist me in my time of need.


I closed my eyes and the water expanded to the horizons. Back in the ocean, that ship I saw was now right in front of me. Hands aplenty reached out to pull me up and out to safety. Shame stung me just as harshly as the relief; grabbing on felt like giving up. Happy to be alive, sure, but how stupid could I be to end up in this situation in the first place? I should have been better.


Just as my paw grasped another, I opened my eyes. A light shone out of the corner of my eye. An indent in the mine's walls stuck out like a beacon as I turned to look over my shoulder.


'Refuge.'


What happened next was a blur. I had some plan of drifting to the other side of the stream and hitting the opening along the way—something that must have happened in one way or another. Before I knew it I was collapsing on my back and staring up at the ceiling, trying to fight off the mental whirlpool flipping me in place. Fenn clung to me the entire time.


I wasn't being tossed around anymore. My body was still on soggy stone, the roots of my own exhaustion frayed and tepid.


"Finally…" I breathed.


My heartbeat slowed from a sprint to a crawl. Just like when I first woke up on this floor, cold, hard rock dug into my back. An uncomfortable pain that I welcomed with a smile—it reminded me that I was alive, and not completely numb despite the needles jabbing at my skin.


I wasn't cut out for this sort of thing, though. I had pushed my limits to the point of dreading having to lift my arm again. It was unfair—what other choice did I have?


I got maybe two hypotheticals in before I decided that there was no possible scenario back there that would have led to a better outcome. All I could do was work with what I had. It was a comforting thought in a way. Once I got past the self-loathing and what-ifs, the serenity of the final result finally hit me.


I survived and managed to get Fenn out safely. That's some real action movie shit right there. I could see myself bursting out from an exploding island on a jetski and riding out into the sunset, the president's daughter clinging to me…


And then I say some real cool one-liner like "All in a day's work." Something badass like that.


Maybe next time, though. Maybe after I would remember the context of that movie or whatever, too. All of this left me too tired to speak up.


For now, I could breathe.


Fenn shifted atop me, his blurry eyes and snout appearing at the bottom of my vision. Water droplets fell from his drooping ears.


"O-Oswald?" he asked.


"I'm alive," I said. "Just…taking a moment to appreciate that."


"M-me too. I'm all wet…"


"First time?" I chuckled sardonically.


"No…" He didn't see the humor in my bad sarcasm. "W-w-wasn't really…expecting it."


I sighed. "Saved me, though. Bunch of ferals cornered me and Cosmo. I don't think I would have gotten away without it."


"Cosmo?" He visibly shuddered, his eyes peering off somewhere else. "Wait, it's…i-it's the portal."


I blinked, and my fingers curled against the hard stone. "The what?"


He said nothing, instead opting to slowly stumble off of my torso. I followed suit with a variety of pained noises as I sat up.


My gaze immediately drifted to the source of light in this chamber: six tall and ornate candelabras lining the walls on either side of us, gradually placed closer and closer together as if to form an arrow. What it pointed to was a giant portal. The portal, in fact, fitted into the wall as a dark, spiraling curtain.


The flames flickered impassively, each candle lit despite the raging waters just a few feet from us. The whole thing gave off the vibe of some ancient ritual for an underworld just on the other side of that opening. Dark gods accepted offerings in the shape of half-dead pokemon first baptized in the ocean of misery.


I frowned. Real nice of them.


"Great. Are you okay, Fenn?" I wondered, turning back to him.


Laying on the ground next to me, Fenn was shivering relentlessly, but nonetheless appeared lucid. He nodded. "Y-yeah."


If it was up to Fenn, the answer would always be yes. The question was more a preamble for finally getting a chance to look him over.


I exhaled, biting back another sarcastic remark. "Liar. Come here." Then I motioned for him to do just that.


Fenn's ears shot straight up. "Really, I-I'm-"


"Fenn, come on." That came out more exasperated than I intended. It wasn't like I was sick of this or anything, it was just that all of my energy was already sapped out of me. Plus, holding Fenn some more sounded nice. I didn't want to have to argue for it.


Thankfully, he obliged. Though not without looking away first. Fenn shuffled along the ground until his own exhaustion caught up to him, and his snout landed in my lap.


"There you go," I uttered. I didn't comment on the pink in his cheeks under the fur, but I definitely noticed.


The main thing I wanted to check when I put his face in my paws was his flame vents. I noticed how one of them was redder than usual. And sure enough, a nasty gash stuck out on his forehead in the low light, right next to the lower vent.


"Holy…what happened, Fenn?" I asked, my breath catching in disbelief.


Fenn wiggled himself out of my grip. "I-it's nothing, just…hit a wall. I-I don't even feel it."


I wasn't buying that. Especially after I got to see his chest when he pulled back. Not only was it stained red and lined with several gashes, his scarf was torn. I held the ruined thing in my paw.


Question after question invaded my mind. What happened while I wasn't around? Was that Staraptor involved? Who even were they? Why wasn't Finch around to help him?


Where was Finch? Where was Cosmo?


My blood ran cold.


Oh my god I led Cosmo into a dead end. I had no idea where he was.


This was all my fault. Good fucking god this was all my fault.


Fenn batted my paw away. "Oswald, I-I'm serious! I'm fine!"


"I can't just let this go, Fenn," I asserted. I put my head in my hands as the reality of it all dawned on me. "Oh my god. Oh my god. What was I thinking?"


I did this. I cut Crocus' hand off. I was the one that gave away our Escape Orb. I made the dungeon push us out of that floor. I separated us and I made Cosmo go off on his own.


"O-Oswald," Fenn spoke up, "your hand is…bleeding. Y-your arm, too. And you're…c-covered in black stuff."


I almost didn't believe him. This was just his way of changing the subject and diverting blame, I knew it. But sure enough, after freezing and checking the back of my paw, a deep cut between two of my fingers made itself known. The stickiness of my own cheek became hard to ignore. Fenn's cheek, too, was stained red by my paw. All of a sudden, I could feel the dull ache rising up from my wrist to my arm. I didn't bother to look at my other arm, or pay attention to the soot and grime clinging to my fur.


I must have looked terrible.


'The Fire Witch looked like this, too,' said a voice in my head. I hated that I knew exactly what it meant.


I sighed, clenching my shaking fist. "Forget about that," I said, much to his chagrin.


Fenn's ears drooped. "I d-don't think I brought any…bandages," he said.


Oh right, bandages. It was at that moment that I noticed something behind my paw: a leather strap. More specifically, the strap keeping the shoulder bag on my person. I completely forgot it was there, a fact just as miraculous as the fact that it never dislodged from my shoulder.


The bag was completely drenched, no doubt leaving all of its contents ruined. But noticing it gave me a dash of determination.


Without another word, I pulled the bag from my shoulder, unlatched the flap, and dumped its contents on the ground. Every item we brought with us tumbled out in a soggy heap.


"H-hey!" Fenn stammered. "W-what are you…?"


The book that fell out was completely done for, so waterlogged that the pages were stained in runoff ink. Same went for the map. The notebook, too, though thankfully nothing was lost there. The case full of tools and charcoal seemed mostly fine, we could keep that. All of the pecha berries were likely still edible, along with the seeds. We already ate the rest of the food, but I wasn't looking for that regardless of how severely hungry I was.


The item that tumbled out last, as bruised and soggy as it was, made my heart leap. A single oran berry, our very last one. I didn't hesitate to pick it up after dragging myself to my feet and tossing the bag to the ground.


"I have to fix this," I murmured aloud. "I have to find Cosmo and Finch. I can't let any of you get hurt anymore, and I sure as hell can't let us get separated again. I need to do better."


Fenn frantically shook his head, saying, "O-Oswald, no! It's my fault, too!"


I looked at him with uncertainty, the berry heavy in my paw. "What do you mean?"


Shakily, he rose onto his hindlegs, tiny sparks popping out of his vents before quickly dying out in the damp air.


"I…I started that explosion," he said. "I-I'm the reason the flood started. I h-had to or else…"


He stopped, his gaze growing distant.


That made me pause. "...Or else what?" I prodded.


But Fenn just rubbed his arm. When he spoke it came out as nothing but a whisper. "It's…i-it's what I had to do."


What he had to do? What did that mean…?


My mind went back to that Staraptor and Marowak from earlier and it was like being smacked upside the head. I basically blocked them out of my memory. I had enough delusions as it was, I didn't need more.


Did Fenn have something to do with that, though?


You know what? Who cares? Probably just dungeon fuckery anyway. Cosmo and Finch were still missing, and only one of us could swim. I didn't dare turn around to face the waters, but the constant crashing noises behind me sparked my anxiety. Every moment we wasted, they could be in more danger.


"Whatever," I said. "Doesn't matter."


No more wasting time. I limped over to Fenn. His eyes grew progressively wider as I got close, until he was outright begging with me to stop.


"N-no!" he whined. "Stop! I-I'm not that hurt!"


I shushed him, holding the berry up to his mouth. At the same time, I made it a point to get as close as possible, wrapping my free arm around his shoulder and leaning on him. Even after getting soaked, this Quilava's body heat warmed me back to sanity. I hoped my own body heat would keep him from shivering, too.


"Eat it, alright?" I pressed. "For me? I just need to make sure that you're okay."


He took the berry into his paws and stared at it with visible remorse. His muffled acceptance came out as nothing but a mewl I could barely understand. Then he managed to say, "...But…I-I want to come with you. I w-w-want to find the others, t-too."


"You know you can't."


"Th-then what else am I going to do? Just…j-just wait here?"


"Fenn…"


He pushed off my shoulder just in time for his vents to shoot out scattered spurts of fire, not quite igniting. Turning on me, juice squirted from his clenched paw and his hackles rose. It would have been an intimidating sight had his voice not cracked from the effort.


"L-let me do something!" he cried.


Steam rose from Fenn's fur, hitting me square in the face with its radial heat. All of the moisture on his fur vaporized in an instant.


Scratch that, I was a little intimidated. And unfortunately, my own self-preservation got the better of me and I held up my paws.


"You can do something!" I tried to tell him. "Just be safe and it'll be-"


"I don't wanna just be safe! I-If I had just gotten that- OW!"


Fenn bent forward, eyes shut in pain, clutching his forehead. Past his fingers I could see bright red blood oozing from the now opened wound—irritated by the influx of fire coming from his vents.


My legs moved faster than my mind, leading me to his side without missing a beat. I reached up and supported his arms, pulling his paws away.


"Fenn, please!" I yelled, exasperated.


His entire body shook, wriggling and struggling in an attempt to get out of my grip. Being the wimp that I was, he succeeded in pushing me off and away. I nearly fell on my tail.
Fenn cried, paws over his eyes, "I-I couldn't do anything, Oswald! It was t-too far away! I-it's not fair!"


Seeing Fenn so distraught and on the verge of tears, it made my heart beat like I was running a marathon. I wanted to reach into my chest and squeeze that thing until it stopped, anything to make this end.


I just wanted him to be okay.


I would have done anything to help him right then. So, I did. The very first idea that came to mind, I acted on it.


I lurched forward, held his arms down, and kissed him.


Everything just stopped. Fenn included.


It wasn't the best kiss in the world. In fact, I thought it was the wrong choice in the end. He struggled lightly at first, his body heat rising with his rage.


Way to go, Oswald, I thought. Stop it. You couldn't fix this. Leave him be.


If Fenn hadn't returned the kiss a second later, I would have. My doubt was pushing me down into the earth, but Fenn just pulled me back up to the surface.


Over time, the heat lowered. His shoulders relaxed. My upper lip overlapped his lower lip, before he corrected it and gave me the smooch we were both looking for. He smelled smoky, like a wet campfire and soaked fur, but tasted sweet. A bit groggy, as well, but that was par for the course.


I liked to think that he forgot about everything just like I did for only a moment. That thoughts of flowerfields and the open air were just as fresh as they were the day before. When I pulled back, I tasted his hot breath on my lips, practically pulling me back in.


But I resisted the urge, pulling back fully. I circled my finger on his cheek.


"Sorry," I whispered. "I know nothing makes sense anymore. But that's…okay. I think it's okay." Please be okay.


The guilt on his face was palpable, and his head collapsed into my shoulder. He rocked in place with me, his voice low and soft.


"I-I'm sorry…"


I rubbed him behind the ears, soothing his shivers.


"We'll be okay," I said quietly. Could we be better, though? I mean…oh wait. I realized something and chuckled. "Crazy first date, huh?"


Fenn froze right in his tracks. He looked up at me, incredulous. "F-first date?" he wondered. "But…i-it's not…it shouldn't be…?" Fenn's entire world was being turned upside down, I could see it in the confusion reflected in his big, red eyes.


I smiled. "I'm joking. It's just the first thing we did together as a couple, you know? I bet most couples go out to eat or something first. See a movie…roller skating…"


At that, Fenn looked away, his ears pressed bashfully against his head. "U-um…"


"Hm? What's up?."


"...It's embarrassing," Fenn uttered.


I said, my tone more than a little light, "Who cares, we're boyfriends. You can show me your rashes and I won't blink."


He pushed me, though there wasn't any force behind it. Still, I stepped back to make it seem like it did something. Just for him.
"S-stop!" he fussed. "I don't h-have any rashes!"
I crossed my arms, a smirk on my face. "Sure you don't."
Fenn groaned lightly. "It's…just…I don't like thinking about it l-like that. Y-you saying that made me think about g-going on a date." He grew quiet, thoughtful. "I've never…done that before."


Some boyfriend I was, making our first outing one like this. Stupid dumb idiot ruining everything again. Way to go, Oswald. But seriously, we couldn't have picked a worse time to express our feelings for one another. Being fugitives wasn't exactly my way of establishing a romantic atmosphere.


Better late than never, though. Either way, neither of us had gone on a date before…I think. I couldn't remember it if I did.


For some reason I didn't see myself as much of a casanova.


"What kinds of dates are you thinking of?" I prodded.


Fenn rubbed his arm and shrugged. "I-I w-w-wanna…" The rest was too hard to hear; he mumbled it.


I leaned forward. "You wannaaaa what?"


"...share a…s-smoothie…"


Sharing a smoothie. Even I had to admit that was just adorable.


"You're cute, Fenn. You know that?"


His cheeks turned as red as cherries. They only got brighter when his vents started sparking from all the attention he was getting, leading to him frantically reaching up to cover them with his paws.


I laughed and laughed.


We parted shortly after that, as much as I didn't want to. All that was left to do was prepare to leap back into the water. I stood in front of the raging current, taking deep breaths, holding my injured paw. Enough time had passed for my body to settle down, but not nearly enough to combat the pain. But I knew that if I waited any longer, I would only be making Cosmo and Finch wait longer, too.
If they weren't here waiting for us already, then they hadn't gotten to safety yet. I was the only one who could change that.


Looking back, I caught Fenn in the middle of picking up the discarded items. I decided to leave the bag here with him, just in case he needed it. He stopped momentarily to peer up, blink, and give me a smile and a wave.


Honestly, I didn't want to return the gesture at first. Doing either of those things added a layer of finality to this whole ordeal that I didn't want to entertain. It didn't feel right to not, though. How could I ignore Fenn?


I smiled and waved back.


Turning, my chest felt tight all of a sudden, like my ribs were being pulled in multiple directions. Moving towards any one of them meant breaking the others.


Just keep moving, I told myself. Blame yourself later.


I looked down at my feet. My scalchop was laying there on the ground. Picking it up, the fingers of my uninjured paw tingled. This scalchop was mine, it belonged to me, a Dewott. This was my weapon.


But those memories, I thought, did they belong to me, too?


I grimaced and put the scalchop back on my hip. I didn't want to think about it anymore. I was sick of all this anomalous nonsense.


With a run and a leap, I cannonballed back into the water.




Even after falling back into the black abyss that was this dungeon's idea of a flood, my heart was still fluttering.


Maybe Fenn was onto something with his flickering ears and sputtering attempts at staying tough. The idea of a date never really crossed my mind, but as soon as it did I couldn't stop thinking about it.


I preferred this, I should say. The currents were no less demanding and my limbs were no less sore. Combined with everything else I learned about in this dungeon alone, I appreciated the distraction.


It had me wishing that I could have gone to the festival with Fenn after all. Because otherwise, what had we actually done together? We helped build a house, killed some ferals, went to the beach and just waited there—nothing set up with the purpose of just having fun.


Scalchop glowing in my paw, I let my body float adrift in this river, accepting every single push and pull it demanded of me. My limbs were limp, hanging from me nearly detached. If anyone saw me, they'd probably assume I was dead.


I figured that if I had somewhere to be, I would end up there eventually. Fighting against my natural element just seemed counterintuitive now, especially when I was this tired. And besides, my heart was somewhere else.


Fenn mentioned smoothies, which sounded nice. Keeping it simple had to be ideal for a couple fresh fruits like us. It just wasn't, you know, exciting. We had no fun memories to begin with—we should make some.


I instantly thought of a waterpark, as if we weren't in one right now and Fenn wasn't deathly allergic to being wet. I must have been thinking of Riz and the pamphlet he had. It stuck with me: big slides, a water bucket large enough to soak an entire crowd of people, and especially the lazy river. Man, just take me back already.


I'd find a way to help Fenn enjoy it. Could get some floaties. A sun hat, too, so it wouldn't get in his eyes. Or maybe I just wanted to see him in a sun hat, I don't know.


Oh yeah, we could bring Cosmo along. I just knew that kid would love it. It would give us an excuse to lounge around and be his chaperones, no swimming required.


Would we need sunscreen since we had fur? How would that work? Does it matter if it gave me an excuse to fluster Fenn some more?


I grinned to myself. Probably not.


That reminded me, Fenn and I still hadn't sparred together. Something about beating each other up didn't sound like my idea of a romantic outing, and I think I was subconsciously avoiding it beforehand, but I bet I'd find more fun in it with him compared to with Allium or Swift. Worse comes to worst, it would be an ego boost for Fenn. That's romantic, right?


So my options were either to take someone who couldn't swim to a water park, or fight someone who wouldn't have any issues trouncing me. Hm.


I'd hate it if Fenn had a terrible time, was the thing. And it wasn't like I wanted to have a bad time either. Imagining all the different ways it could go badly left me with a pit swirling in my stomach, overflowing into my cheeks as pure heat.


…Like, for instance, messing up so bad that we end up on the run, or something. That would ruin our first date for sure. Because then, going to the waterpark at all was out of the question. Same with getting smoothies as normal people and not fugitives.


My mood plummeted as the truth reentered the room. Phew, for a second there I thought I had some hope! Good thing I stopped myself before I got ahead of myself!


Bonk!


I didn't feel any better when I hit my head on the wall in front of me.


Any remaining air I had in my lungs was knocked right out of my chest just like the good thoughts falling out of my head. I held up my free paw up to my forehead, an uncomfortable heat washing over me despite my body previously going numb from the cold water. A second later and my torso was being pressed against solid rock. Peering out through squinted eyes showed me just what I expected: I swam into a wall and now I was being flattened.


Alright, where was I? I thrust my scalchop into the rock, grit my teeth, and lifted myself up to the surface. As soon as air filled my lungs, I coughed.


Not much was different now that I wasn't drowning. The current threw me into a wall because of course it did—not like this place was made for being flooded. Except it quickly became apparent to me that this wall wasn't as wide as I thought. I looked to my right and saw darkness expanding down a tunnel. It was the same on my left.


I had managed to land square in the middle of a crossroads.


"Oh great…" I grumbled. "Now which way do I go?"


"Cosmo says you should go right!"


I jumped. "What, Cosmo?" Left and right, nothing there. Above me, sure enough. That little purple Solosis was hovering just over my head like nothing was wrong. He wasn't even wet.


"Hi!" he grinned.


"When did you get here?"


"Just now. Cosmo found Finch! Just like Oswald told him to!"
Finch? How did he even…?


Oh wait.


The kid did just as I asked. I didn't know if I should have been concerned or impressed. I couldn't help but chuckle regardless.


"You're a good kid, Cosmo," I said.


His cheeks puffed out in pride. "It's true, Cosmo is the greatest hero!"


My shoulders relaxed a bit, and I asked, "Okay, you said right? Is Finch safe?"


"Yeah!" Cosmo responded, now hovering to my right in front of the tunnel. His bubble was positioned at just the right spot to only be touched by the faintest of river foam. "He is waiting for us."


I sighed. Most of the relief I got from hearing that came from knowing I wouldn't have to shamble around some more trying to find him. I took any victory I could get at that point.


"And we were waiting for him…" Repositioning to kick off the wall, I nodded at the Solosis. "Lead the way, Cosmo."


Cosmo froze, his bubble going rigid, before he floated up the right-side tunnel. "Okay."


I was quick to follow, frowning at the fact that of all the things to not be a fragment of my imagination, Comso's little quirk was one of them.




Reaching the alcove down the tunnel didn't take long. I should have been insulted by how it was literally just around the corner, but then I reasoned that this coincidence had to be anything but that.


Something good happened to me for once—no shambling around required. Shut up with the complaining, me.


Cosmo and I found Finch sitting in the dark munching on a grainy, seedy loaf of bread, and that wasn't a metaphor this time. Crispy and crunchy crumbs fell into his lap with each bite. Really.


My face was twisted in bewilderment when I caught sight of the croc, my blade held high just to make sure I wasn't seeing things. He responded by taking one claw off his meal and shielding his black, beady eyes.


"Finch?" I ventured.


"In the flesh," he said, as gravely as ever. "Mind lowering your nightlight?"


I did just that, letting the scalchop's tip sag to the floor.


I had a lot of questions, but the first that came to mind was simply, "Is that a sandwich?"


He swallowed. "Yup."


My stomach growled. I could smell the smoky meat from where I was standing. Had it not been for my hunger, my next question would have been the obvious.


Instead, I asked, "What's on it?"


Finch turned it over slightly in his hands, eying the bite mark and the bits of red and green poking out. "Lettuce and tamato," he said. "Mm, spicy roseli. Got some honey mustard, too. Meat tastes like Tepig."


Cosmo cooed over my shoulder. "Oooh."


"Honey mustard?" I said, baffled. "Oh, dude. How is that fresh?"


Hold on.


"Where did you get a fully-made sandwich from?"


There you go.


The croc chewed impassively, and snapped his fingers. "Check your feet, Ozzy."


I frowned. There was no way…


Taking a look around, the barrenness of such an open chamber set me on edge. The walls were carved in a vague capsule shape, filled with next to nothing aside from empty air. There was the singular rock smack-dab in the center of the room, though, which Finch was currently sitting on. And then there were all of the random items scattered around it.


I approached one of them and my eyebrows made a dance fit for a Meoletta. A whole apple, bereft of any rot or bruises, sat as if deliberately placed there. Right nearby sat what looked like a coconut. A ripened leppa berry not much further, and an entire cluster of bananas right behind it.


In a majestic twist of fate each time, I balked at every piece of food surrounding Finch. It never stopped leaving me flabbergasted, up until I scoured every inch of the floor not touching the water. There was food everywhere.


After a certain point my hunger took a backseat—I was just bewildered.


Is this a joke? I thought.


"Whoa!" Cosmo said in awe. "It's a feast for kings!"


Finch guffawed. "Sure is, Cosmo! It sure is."


My frown only deepened when I accidentally kicked a perfectly ripe oran berry and it rolled over to Finch's feet. Shaking his head, Finch reached down to pick it up with his claw, before holding it up next to his grinning snout.


"Nice, huh?" he teased.


"No, not really. Glad you're safe and all, but…" I had to ask, "how long have you been here, Finch?"


He wound up and tossed the oran to me mid-response. "Dunno, an hour?"


After he threw it, the oran limply struck my chest before splatting onto the ground.


"An hour!?" I repeated. I couldn't have sounded more baffled if I tried. "And you've just been, what, engorging yourself this entire time?"


To that, Finch's demeanor dropped. He sighed, set the sandwich aside, slowly stood up, and trudged over to me.


"You sound frustrated, Ozzy," he said, sarcasm lost somewhere in the folds of his own meaning. He stopped his stride once he was closer, eying me up and down tepidly. "...What happened to you?"


Oh no, we're not changing the subject. "I'm fine," I said. "Not like you'd know that after sitting around for so long. I had to save Fenn from drowning!"


But Finch didn't take the hint. He looked down at my paw and his brows lowered almost completely over his eyes.


Finch asked, "Is he okay?"


I let out a breath. "Yeah. Yeah, he's safe. Gave him the last oran so I know he's good. Waiting by the stairs, too."


Cosmo gasped. "You found it? Huzzah!"


Finch nodded. "Glad to hear it." His eyes narrowed further at me. "Still haven't answered my question. What are you covered in?"


Still? I was still covered in soot and grime? How? I had been swimming for the past half hour.


I searched myself, from my arms to my torso to my tail, and somehow there was still gunk clinging to my fur. Eventually, I just glared at the croc.
"I've been through a lot, okay?" I said scornfully. "I'm tired, I'm hungry, and I just want this all to be over with."


Unlike Finch. Poor guy's gotta be well rested and full. How terrible.


Finch scoffed and reached down to grab the splattered oran berry. Juices dripped from in between his fingers.


"Slow down a sec," he muttered.


"How?" I shot back, my voice breaking. "I haven't had a second to breathe all day!"


"Oh come on, this stuff's nothing. It can't have been that bad-"


"It has been that bad, Finch." I frantically swung my sword arm opposite him, then pointed at the croc with my other hand—the one still stained with blood. "You planned this, but oops! The guy we came here for is dead."


Finch raised an eyebrow. "You mean the guy that got up and left, because you let him?"


I scowled, stomping my foot. "That's not the same guy."


He blinked and fidgeted like someone just came up and lit a fire right in front of his face. "What?" he snapped, his tail thrashing behind him. But then he stopped, his black eyes focused on something out of sight, out of reach. He slowly turned his eyes to me, his body completely still. "This connected to the human thing?"


I wasn't sure how to respond to that. Because, yeah, it sorta was. We were both humans and it was a thing. I had a feeling Finch meant it in a different way, though.


"It is," I mumbled sluggishly.


Cosmo asked, timid and quiet, "What human thing?"


That seemed to kick Finch out of the trance he was in. He blinked, peering down at the berry in his paws. A gleam shone through to his pupils, lighting them up like lightbulbs.


"Hold still," Finch grumbled, and before I even had the chance to object he was rubbing the oran berry onto my paw.


I winced, my whole body locking up. "Aw, shiii…" I hissed. It stung. Reminded me of alcohol on a paper cut, but all over my whole hand. It took real willpower for me not to start shaking.


And Finch just talked right through it. His eyes were hard narrowed at me, slicing sharper than a knife.


"The human thing Oswald brought up, Cosmo," Finch said. "He knows something we don't."


Cosmo gaped in amazement at the apparent mystique between us. His eyes went as wide as dinner plates with dino prints on them.


I was too busy nursing my burning hand to refute whatever the hell Finch was on about. Just as long as Cosmo wasn't upset at the argument we just had, I guess. There were bigger problems right now anyway.


"Sure," I admitted with a defeated look on my face. "I know more than you do. My human senses are stronger than a Lucario's aura. I know legendaries in every corner of the continent."


Cosmo's eyes got even wider. "Whoa, awesome!" he exclaimed. But then he grew skeptical, his mouth drawn in an exaggerated frown. "Wait a second…are you lying, Oswald?"


"I believe him, Cosmo!" said Finch. Finally letting my paw go, he took a step back. "Listen, I know some fellas that can lead us in the right direction once we get out of here."


"That's what you said last time," I reminded him, shaking my now wet paw out. "Where would we even go?"


Finch showed a fine set of yellow, chomping teeth. "The belly of the beast."


"That's not reassuring."


"You wanna go to jail instead?"


"I want to get out of here."


Finch let out the sleaziest of chortles while backing up and snapping his fingers. Snip snap, snip snap.


"Then grab some snacks and let's go!" he said. He pointed at Cosmo. "Cosmo, buddy, you can carry stuff above the water, right?"
I groaned. "Finch, come on. Don't make the kid do stuff."


But Cosmo wasn't listening to me. I didn't have a stupid gimmick like good old Uncle Finch.


"Yes! Cosmo is on it!"


The Solosis spun mid air and got right to picking up random food items off the ground, hovering them over himself with his telekinetic grip.


"Cosmo, the food carrier to the rescue! Bwaarr!"


I facepalmed.


There was a brief moment where I watched these two through my fingers as they scrambled to pick up as much food as they could carry, my own breaths coursing through me like hot lead. And somehow that bothered me less than how this all turned out. My paw was tingling against my face, sore and wet. I wanted to clench it just to try and squeeze the pain right out of me faster.


And my stomach. Geez, I could barely think. Damn thing was growling louder than a frenzied Ursaring. I put my paw on my belly and frowned. Knowing about the motherload here, I didn't want to eat until I got back to Fenn, but…


I had no idea if I could take another step without collapsing. The hunger was rushing to my head with a real vengeance.


There was a lot on my mind with too little energy to process any of it. But at least I knew Finch and Cosmo were safe. That was good.


I locked on to a food item nearby and shambled over to it. I wasted no time in picking it up. As soon as I realized what I grabbed, though, I could only glare at this affront to my sanity.


Completely without intention, I found the one Torchic leg in the whole room and almost ate it without a second thought. That crispy, tender skin and perfectly cooked white meat was unmistakable. Just the same as it always was since I first tried meat.


Was this another joke? Did I care?


I scoffed out loud. Not anymore.


I bit into the Torchic leg. It was delicious and, miraculously, still warm. Tension cascaded from my lungs and into the open air, free to wither and fade in peace.


Thanks, I thought.


"Hey!" Cosmo called out from the room's entrance. "The water slowed down!"


Finch walked over to him with arms full of food. "You serious?" he said. "No kidding…it stopped, just like that? Must be our lucky day."


I just stood there, staring at my food. I didn't dare swallow yet—not with that voice in my head chiming in just then. I could hear the smile in its tone.


'You're welcome.'




Between Finch, Cosmo, and I, we ferried an entire baker's dozen of food items through the now calm river. Getting anything wet wasn't really ideal, but outside of the few berries Cosmo carried, which mainly consisted of orans and sitruses, we just had to deal with it. I couldn't have imagined doing this while swimming against the current.


Finch suggested making Cosmo take trips at first, though I shut that idea down immediately. I liked my dry meals, but not at the expense of child labor. Having Cosmo do anything felt cruel to me at that point.


To my surprise, Finch was not at all phased when it came to getting wet. I know, he was a crocodile. But he was also a crocodile that kept to the dirt, as far as I knew. When I brought this up to him he said:
"Ever have a mud bath, Ozzy? You look like you just got out of one."


He ended up being capable of swimming faster than me, much to my ever present chagrin. That just didn't sit right with me—I needed to be better than him at something. If it wasn't this, then what else would it be?


Naturally, I made an effort to speed up on our way back, got lost, and Cosmo had to come back for me. I was only a little bit annoyed; my tail was working as it should now. Not once did I get close to drowning.


When I slipped out of the water and onto land, Cosmo hovering right overhead, Finch was waiting for us with his arms crossed and a satisfied grin on his face. The lit candelabra shone behind his large head, making him out to be the beacon I had somehow swam right past, earlier. His fanged grin gleamed in the low light.


"Took you long enough," he snickered.


Still dripping, I unceremoniously dropped my haul to my feet. "Hard to see with my hands full," I said with a grimace, scratching at my sheathed scalchop.


Finch jerked his head in Cosmo's direction. "Weren't you following him?"
Cosmo, who was still glowing a faint pink, scrunched up his face in embarrassment. "Oswald was going too fast…" he muttered.


I sighed. "Let's just move on, please?" Anything to get dry already. I shook out my paws, my feet, and slicked back the fur atop my head. What a mess. Not winning any beauty rewards today with this frazzled fur.


But as Finch pointed out- "At least you washed off all the crap," -there was no gunk, or soot, or slime clinging to my fur anymore.


I looked down at myself, from my toes to my chest—nothing. Even the back of my hand wasn't swollen, despite being numb with pain just a bit ago. By all accounts, I was beginning to look presentable again.


"Huh…" I uttered.


Finch clicked his tongue, turning slightly. "By the way, you know what's going on with your boyfriend?" he asked.


My eyes shot up. "Uh, what do you mean? Is he still here?"


Finch simply stepped aside, allowing me to see what he was talking about.


Fenn was in fact still where I left him, thankfully. His distinctive outline and those sharp, boisterous flames of his made that quite clear. I grew less tense once I saw him, my shoulders relaxing, though before I could move closer than a few steps I noticed something was off.


The Quilava was laying on his belly facing away from us, staring up at the swirling portal affixed into the wall. Just above his head and barely perceptible before the dark shade in front of him were these tiny purple specks flickering all around his ears. Embers, it seemed like, just like ones that he normally emitted. Except these never faded.


That was…new. I frowned, scratching my scalp nervously. Finch and I exchanged glances, but the Krokorok merely furrowed his brow at me as if to say that he didn't know what was going on either.


Wearily, I crept forward over to Fenn's side. It wasn't until I leaned into his peripheral and spoke his name that I got his attention.


"Fenn?" I said quietly, carefully.


Just the sound of my voice was enough for Fenn to jolt, his flames spraying out into tiny clouds of smoke. It was a quiet surprise, the embers orbiting his head dancing like flies and causing more of a stir because of it.


"O-oh, Oswald, y-you're back," said Fenn. He fidgeted some with his paws. One rubbed over the other, clenching and unclenching.


I kept it slow with my steps up until I was fully in front of him. "I am. Found Finch and Cosmo, too."


The Quilava looked genuinely taken aback by that. As if reacting to the news, too, the ember's behavior became less erratic.


"You…did? H-how?"


Cosmo was right up by my ear before I knew he was there. He bellowed, "Ooh! Ooh! Cosmo did it! He found Oswald!"


"...He found me, yeah," I affirmed, rubbing my ringing ears. "What would we do without him?"


Fenn chuckled, who smiled at a proud Cosmo. "I-I don't know. Be…lame? Heheh."


I exhaled a small laugh. "Probably."


His eyes trailed back to me and my heart filled with warmth. Glittering rubies in the firelight, simultaneously lucid yet distracted, accentuated by cheeks that rose with pure joy. It wasn't hard to see why Fenn seemed so distracted, though. Even I found myself watching the purple embers orbit Fenn so vehemently. I couldn't put my finger on it, but there was something off about these embers. Something on the tip of my tongue told me they were clinging to Fenn for a reason—I just couldn't determine what it was.


Fenn must have noticed judging by how his ears began to fall, but Finch was right behind him before either of us could address it.


The Krokorok cleared his throat. "Good to see you're not waterlogged, hot stuff. Hungry?"


Looking over his shoulder, Fenn was met with an apple in front of his face. He blinked, took it, and scrutinized it for all it was worth.


"U-um, sure?" he said. "Where did you…?"


I sat down in front of Fenn before shrugging. "We just found it."


"I found it," Finch corrected helpfully. "All of it."


"You don't get to take credit for all of the swimming I had to do, Finch," I deadpanned.


"Yeah, yeah." The Krokorok stepped to the side and sat down beside us with his long tail wrapped around his legs. His eyes narrowed on the portal. "Been a while since I've had this much excitement in a dungeon. Knew they could be unpredictable, but sheesh. Where'd the water come from?"


Fenn looked down at his paws. Right, he said he knew something about that…


Cosmo then bounced down into my lap, startling me.


"Dungeons are kinda scary…but kinda fun, too! Cosmo never got to go on adventures like this before he met you guys."


"Good," said Finch. And he took the words right out of my mouth. "I didn't end up in one of these places till I was…how old are you, kid?"


Cosmo sheepishly squished himself deeper into my lap. "Uhhhh…"


Finch made a face. "What, you don't know? What kid doesn't know his own age?"


"Uhhhhhhhh…"


While those two were having their riveting conversation, I leaned in closer to Fenn. "Hey," I said, "can I ask you something?"


His gaze shot up to meet mine, and the embers followed suit, dashing all about in response. "Y-yes? Uh huh?"


Okay, really distracted, actually. Something was going on here.


"What happened when we were separated?" I asked.


Fenn looked away. The embers outright froze. "...I-is it okay if we talk about this later?"


I opened my mouth-


Finch, who halted his banter with Cosmo to snap his fingers, spoke up first.


"And let a perfectly good rest go to waste?" he said, pointing a finger and gesturing to all of Fenn. "Do you always act this avoidant when someone asks you where you've been?"


Fenn hunched so low that his head receded into his shoulders.


I sighed. Finch was right, as much as I hated to say it. "I don't want to make you uncomfortable, Fenn."


"Y-you're not," Fenn said with a shake of his head. "It's just…a-a lot. W-we don't have a ton of time."


Finch licked his chops in thought. "How much time do we have anyway?" he wondered aloud. "My internal clock's all screwed up."


"Cosmo is thinking…wah! Cosmo does not know!"


I scooted a bit closer and rested a paw on Fenn's shoulder and said, "We've got time. And if we don't…"


Then the dungeon can suck it.


"...whatever, I'm too tired to care." A thought came to me that made me smirk. "Prelude date. It's a prelude date."


Finch let out a low growl, fangs poking out his mouth. "If you two start making out I'm leaving."


"'Making out?'" wondered Cosmo, his lips curled in confusion. "Making out what?"


Now that we were situated right next to a portal under the cover of candlelight and surrounded by plenty of food, I figured that it made some amount of sense. We could do the real thing later, but I'd have to set that up when we're alone, heh.


Plus, the bewilderment radiating from Fenn's cheeks was too good to pass up.


For now, Fenn gave me a slow, quiet nod.


"O-okay," he whispered. "Prelude…date."


The purple embers danced and danced.

Author's Note - 12/12/2025

Happy preemptive holidays because I doubt I'll get another one of these out this year.

What a year its been. Looking back on it, I started this year with this arc, and by the end of it I'm still in it. I don't know how to feel about that. I kinda wish I made more progress, though to be fair I tried to make up for it with some plot progression and reveals.

And with that in mind, I was actually going to make this chapter a lot longer. Or least cover more. I really wanted to reach a certain point, but I can't say this particular part of the story needed to be longer than the nearly 12k words this chapter is at. Hopefully I made up for it with some cute interactions.

So, next time. That's when we're getting into the good shit. I can't wait.

Really have to thank my betas once again: Bonehead, Dust_Scout, LukerUpgradez, Nikelnani, and Timelocke. If the first part of this chapter was confusing just know that it was quite a bit more so before they came in to the rescue.

Thanks for reading. See you next time.
 
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