The Bug Catcher's slow, exaggerated tiptoe toward the unsuspecting Weedle was almost comical. He moved like a cartoon character sneaking up on a pie, his net raised high, his tongue sticking out in concentration. The Weedle, blissfully unaware, continued munching on its leaf.
I remained motionless in the bush, my pink form blending into the shadows. The Beedrill hovered nearby, its wings a low, ominous hum. Its red eyes flicked between its trainer and the surrounding forest, ever watchful.
Closer… closer…
The Bug Catcher lunged.
"GOTCHA!"
His net came down—and the Weedle, startled, jerked its head up. A thin strand of silk shot from its horn, latching onto a higher branch, and in an instant, it yanked itself out of harm's way. The net swished through empty air.
"Aw, man!" The kid groaned, shoulders slumping.
The Weedle, now safely perched on a higher branch, glared down at him with beady eyes. Then, with deliberate slowness, it turned its back and resumed eating.
Damn. Even the Weedle had better survival instincts than my fish-bro.
The Bug Catcher sighed and scratched his head. "Guess I gotta try again." He turned to his Beedrill. "Hey, think you can scare it down?"
The Beedrill buzzed in affirmation, its drills twitching eagerly.
Oh no.
I didn't like where this was going. If the Beedrill started attacking, there was a good chance collateral damage would involve me.
The Bug Catcher grinned. "Alright! Use Gust!"
Gust?! Since when did Beedrill learn Gust?!
The Beedrill's wings blurred, and a sudden gust of wind tore through the bush I was hiding in. Leaves and twigs whipped around, and I barely managed to cling to the ground as the miniature cyclone threatened to fling me into the open.
The Weedle, caught in the wind, lost its grip and tumbled from the branch. It hit the ground with a soft plop and immediately curled into a defensive ball.
"Perfect!" The Bug Catcher cheered, already pulling a Poké Ball from his belt. "Now, go! Poké Ball!"
The red-and-white sphere arced through the air and bonked the Weedle squarely on the head. It split open, sucking the caterpillar inside in a flash of light. The ball snapped shut and wobbled once… twice…
Click.
"Yes! I caught a Weedle!" The kid pumped his fist in the air, grinning like he'd just won the lottery.
I, meanwhile, was still trying to recover from nearly being blown away. My gelatinous form quivered in indignation. That little shit.
The Bug Catcher picked up the Poké Ball and admired it for a moment before clipping it to his belt. "Alright, Beedrill! Let's see if we can find one more before heading back!"
Oh, come on.
The Beedrill buzzed again, and the two of them resumed their search, this time moving further along the riverbank.
I waited until they were a safe distance away before finally peeling myself out of the bush. My body oozed back into a more cohesive blob shape, and I let out a silent, exasperated sigh.
waited until they were a safe distance away before finally peeling myself out of the bush. My body oozed back into a more cohesive blob shape, and I let out a silent, exasperated sigh. That was entirely too close. My non-existent heart was still pounding a frantic rhythm against my non-existent ribs.
First things first. I slid back to the riverbank, my form squelching softly in the mud. I peered into the murky green water, trying to spot a familiar flash of orange.
"Diii-ditto!" I called out, my voice a questioning gurgle. (Yo! Fish-bro! Coast is clear!)
Nothing. The river flowed on, indifferent. A few stray bubbles rose to the surface, but there was no sign of my geological enthusiast of a friend.
"Ditto-diii!" (Hey, dumbass! You in there?)
Still nothing. Maybe he was hiding deeper down. Worried, I dipped the part of my body that functioned as my face into the water. The world instantly devolved into a blurry, impressionistic mess of green and brown. It was like watching a YouTube video from 2005 on a dial-up connection. I couldn't see a damn thing past a few inches.
Right. I forgot. My eyes don't have the "Shitty Magikarp Vision" filter installed anymore.
I pulled back, shaking off the water. What if he was scared? The kid, the Beedrill, the Gust attack... it was a lot for a creature whose primary defense mechanism was looking disappointing. A pang of genuine concern hit me. That magnificent moron had saved my ass twice now. I couldn't just leave without making sure he was okay.
Maybe... maybe I could go look for him.
I focused on the memory of the Magikarp—its vacant eyes, its floppy fins, its sheer, unadulterated orange-ness. I pictured it in my mind, a perfect 3D model, and pushed. I poured my will into the transformation, expecting that familiar, gut-wrenching lurch.
And... nothing happened.
I was still a pink blob on a riverbank.
"Ditto?" (Huh?)
I tried again, concentrating harder, trying to force my cells to remember the shape. Still nothing. A flicker of frustration went through me. Of course. It made sense when I thought about it. I needed a target. I transformed into something, not just out of thin air. It was a copy-paste function, not a "create new file from template" one.
But still... it felt like it should have worked. My body was basically cellular silly putty. Why did it need a visual reference every single time? It felt like a limitation that wasn't hard-coded, more like a skill I hadn't unlocked yet. A topic for future, less stressful research.
My gaze fell upon a mossy, grey rock sitting half-buried in the mud next to me. It was about my size. Unassuming. Boring. Perfect.
Well, if I need a target...
I focused on the rock. Its shape, its texture, the little patch of green fuzz on its top. With a final mental "click", I pushed.
Plorp.
The transformation was instantaneous and jarring. My soft, gelatinous form hardened, compressed, and became heavy. All sensation of light and sound vanished, replaced by the simple, profound feeling of being dense and inert. I was a rock. It worked. I had successfully transformed into a low-poly environmental asset.
Then the realization hit me with the force of a Geodude's Rock Throw.
I could have done this the entire time.
When that Bug Catcher was poking around my bush, I could have just... become a rock. Blended in perfectly. No fear, no near-misses with a Gust attack, no almost shitting my non-existent pants. But no, my big-brained plan was to hide like a coward and pray.
Dammit, my single-celled brain! The thought echoed in the silent, stony confines of my new form.
With an effort, I reverted, my body softening back into its default pink state with a wet squelch. I stared at the river for a long moment, a mix of frustration at my own stupidity and lingering worry for my friend.
After another ten minutes of waiting, I had to accept it. He was gone. Probably spooked by all the commotion and swam far, far downriver. Or maybe he just found a really, really interesting rock somewhere and forgot I existed. With him, both were equally likely.
"Ditto..." I sighed, the sound soft and final. (Well, shit.)
I looked out over the water one last time.
"Dii-ditto, diii." (You were dumb, dude. My kind of dumb.)
A wave of weird, one-sided nostalgia washed over me.
"Ditto-di, diii-diiiit-toooo." (I hope you become a big, strong Gyarados. Go wreck some shit. Get all the fish-bitches you want. And hey, maybe even some lady-rocks. I won't judge.)
I almost wished I had a Poké Ball, just to keep the dumbass safe. But then I pictured him, trapped in that little red-and-white prison, unable to pursue his passion for headbutting inanimate objects. Nah. He was living his best, free, stupid life. Who was I to take that away? Who knows if we'd ever meet again, and I couldn't just sit here by a river forever. I had a world to... well, I had a world to figure out.
With a final, heartfelt, and completely unheard goodbye to my first and dumbest friend, I turned my back on the river. It was time to go. My quest for a Pokémon Center—and the answer to the great Torchic culinary mystery—was back on.
----
Some time later
The intellectual summit had concluded.
For what felt like a blissful eternity, the Magikarp had been engaged in a deep and meaningful dialogue with a particularly fascinating rock. It was a superior rock—grey, with intriguing little speckles and a patch of moss that was delightfully squishy to headbutt. The rock had listened patiently to all of his profound thoughts, which mostly consisted of a single, looping "Karp," offered in various tones of philosophical inquiry. But eventually, even the most stimulating of conversations must end. And besides, he was getting hungry.
He left his stony companion with a final, respectful nudge and went in search of lunch. A short swim later, he found it: a patch of the good stuff. The green, stringy plants his new friend had seemed to enjoy before getting all weird and suddenly choking. He nibbled at a stalk. It was bland and tasted vaguely of mud, but it was food.
A thought, simple and pure as the water around him, bubbled up in his tiny fish brain: Friend!
He should share. The Pink Jelly Friend was good. He was sometimes an Orange Friend, which was confusing, but he was always a friend. He'd helped the Pink Jelly Friend get out of the water when it started making choking noises. That's what friends do.
With a particularly verdant piece of riverweed clamped firmly in his mouth like a victory cigar, the Magikarp pushed off the riverbed. He propelled himself upward with a powerful flick of his tail, breaking the surface with a soft splash.
He looked around.
The world was its usual comforting blur of greens and browns. The bush where the Pink Jelly Friend had vanished was still there, looking very bushy. The spot on the muddy bank where it had been flopping around was empty.
"Magikarp?" he called out, the sound muffled by his mouthful of salad. It was a happy, expectant call. (Friend? I brought you a snack!)
The only reply was the gentle chirping of distant Pidgeys and the rustle of leaves.
He blinked his big, vacant eyes, a flicker of confusion rippling through him. The Friend-Shape wasn't here. Not the Pink Jelly Friend shape, nor the Orange Friend shape. He scanned the blurry shoreline again, his gaze sweeping past the spot where the noisy two-legs and its big, angry bug-friend had been. They were gone too. Good. They were loud.
He waited, floating patiently, the riverweed slowly getting soggy in his mouth. Maybe the Pink Jelly Friend was just being shy. Or maybe it had turned into something new. A tree, perhaps? He squinted at the trees. They didn't look like his friend.
After another moment of profound, fishy contemplation, a new, more pressing thought elbowed its way to the front of his mind: This weed is getting less tasty.
He couldn't just let it go to waste. With a decisive gulp, he swallowed his offering. It was still bland.
The spot on the bank remained empty. The river flowed on. A new current, stronger than before, began to pull at his fins, urging him downstream.
Oh. Well.
The river was going this way. So he would go this way. That made sense.
With a final, searching look at the empty bank, the Magikarp gave a flick of his tail and turned to follow the current. He wasn't sad. Sadness was a complex concept, like algebra or not eating something shiny. He was just... moving on.
Maybe he'd find a new, even better rock downstream. Maybe he'd find the Friend-Shape again. Both seemed like equally good possibilities.
With his belly full of mediocre weeds and his mind blissfully empty, the Magikarp swam on, a lone orange traveler on the great, blurry road of the river.
__
Sorry for the missing update yesterday! Take this longer chapter as apologies. Might update another one.
And thanks the readers Derek15, DaoistZgpqw9 and Hayate_Ayasaki_ for the reviews!
Keep the stones coming on. The 100 stone bonus is still there.