The north-bound route to Goldenrod is pocketed with pools. You can't see the ocean yet, but you can smell it. Unsurprisingly, the water is too salty to drink or refill your water bottles, but you leave your boots and socks among the reeds to wade in and you find it's delightfully cold. Not so long ago, you would've been put off by the pond skaters and the prospect of mud between your toes. Now with sweat dripping between your shoulder blades and two days of dirt on your face, you crave it.
You carry your shoes under one arm and squelch through the salt marsh, your furret darting a few paces ahead, until you find a pool deep enough to submerge yourself completely. No longer caring who might see, you go in nude.
As the water closes over your head, you think of the bikini wadded in the bottom of your backpack. You remember telling your sister that it was a practical choice (even as you scrutinized your shape and tan lines in the mirror) because it wouldn't take up much space. You imagined swimming laps at a gym with the dewgong you hoped to train, inventing need for the purchase. You haven't used it once since you started your journey. You've become less vain.
However, you can't help but wince looking at yourself more closely. Tens of bug bites and tiny cuts sting as the salt water washes over you. The bruise on your hip is turning yellow, a sign it's healing but nasty-looking all the same. It's been months since you've shaved your legs or painted your chipped toe nails. And why would you out here? Maybe you'll treat yourself when you get to the city, look impressive for your next gym challenge. You clamber onto a rock with your cake of biodegradable soap and scrub at the dirt in the cracks of your callouses until your skin burns.
The scream of a predatory bird makes you look up. You spot the pidgeotto circling overhead. Not until it dives, surprisingly close by, does it occur to you to scan for your furret. You hear a squeak of terror and your stomach drops.
You splash to the edge of the pool and snatch your belt off your pile of clothes. As you raise the pokeball, the pidgeotto flashes past with something wriggling in its talons. You manage to recall your furret to her ball, and she dematerializes out of the pigeotto's grip. The pigeotto visibly falters, off-balance at the sudden change in weight. With a scream it wheels and flies past you so closely you're forced to duck. For a moment you worry you're going to have to fight off a wild pokemon in the nude, but the pidgeotto pushes higher into the sky to continue its circling search.
Chastened, you towel off and throw your clothes on with your hair still dripping and the taste of salt water in your mouth.