An elderly Octillery silently slinked through the cold, dark depths of the ocean.
She drew in as much ocean water as she could into her mantle, and then quickly expelled it out. The sudden burst then propelled her through the water a few feet, where she would then come to stop and she would need to repeat the process again to keep moving forward. It seemed like a tiring process, having to constantly withdraw water before dispelling it to flow through the ocean, but not to the Octillery. Her three hearts sustained her plenty, making sure she didn't feel the least bit faint as she swam through the sea.
With every propulsion a tingling sensation washed over her entire body. She could feel how much her suckers wanted to twist and tighten around the nearest Clamperl. Now would be a good time to catch one after all. They all slumbered down below on the ocean floor, hiding away in between the coral.
But she couldn't. She was on a much different type of hunt now and had to stay focused and vigilant.
She adjusted her angle so that she faced toward the light illuminating above her, and then shot herself toward it. Seconds later, her head emerged from the murky water and entered the surface world.
Moonlight poured down from high above, casting a soft blue light onto the water surrounding her. She could see it dimly reflecting off her pale red skin, a consequence of having not seen the sun for many years. She had long forgotten the warm rays of the great ball of fire that ruled the day. She only knew the cool, otherworldly light of the night and its dim, glimmering companions that pierced through the eternal sky of black. And though the moon was no substitute for the guiding beacon known as the sun, the blue light still allowed her everything she needed. Particularly, it allowed her to see her destination with perfect clarity.
There, within close swimming distance, lay Wayward Island.
It was the only island around for miles and miles around. Most of the islands in the world lived in clusters of perhaps five or six small islands only able to house a few dozen Pokémon each. Due to this, the island dwellers usually connected each of their islands with wooden docks to establish a trade system depending on which island had what goods. But not Wayward Island. This island stood all alone in the vast ocean, as if to defy cooperation and unity. If it had been as small as the other islands the Octillery had visited, then surely none of its civilians would have lasted long.
However, that wasn't an issue. Wayward Island was perhaps one of the largest islands on the planet, housing at least a few hundred Pokémon. Enough fruit and wild life flourished in the thick foliage of the deeper parts of island to sustain everyone who lived there.
The Octillery dipped back into the ocean and hurried toward the island. She spurted through the water with increased vigor until her tentacles brushed against soft, powdery sand. Once so, she ceased her bursts and lowered herself to the seafloor. Then, she crawled her way to the surface using her nimble tentacles. It was only a matter of time before she emerged from the shoreline and settled onto the dry, grainy land.
She could see the palm trees that filled the beach now. She could see how a few grew separated from the others, bending toward the ocean at a slightly slanted angle, while others remained in clusters farther inland. The great gathering of these palm trees reminded the Octillery of a wall due to how closely they grew together and how all of the leaves seemed to intertwine with one another.
The Octillery ignored the gritty feeling of sand in her suckers as she crawled toward the mass of trees. Despite lacking any semblance of bones in her body, she was able to scurry across the land at an adequate pace. Surely not as quickly as a majority of the Pokémon that lived on this island, but much faster than any other aquatic Pokémon.
Within moments, she exited the forest and found herself peering into a small town. All of the buildings within her sight were short, one-story huts with thatched roofs. All of them stood a couple of feet off the sand with a ramp that connected each hut's door with the ground. A few burning torches several times her height protruded out of the sand throughout the area, casting an orange glow against the walls of some of the huts.
However, there didn't seem to be a single soul in sight. All of the huts' doors were covered with bundles of fresh palm tree leaves. No shadows scurried in and out of the fires' light. All was quiet and peaceful on this part of the island. The only sounds to be heard were the crackling of the torches' flames and the distant ocean waves crashing onto the shoreline.
This was most definitely a residential area. All of the huts were too similar to one another to be an area for consumption and bartering. It seemed a bit smaller than some of the other neighborhoods she had visited in the past on this island, but it didn't matter. This particular part of the island housed a number of families and all of them surely slumbered the night away.
She had found exactly what she wanted.
The Octillery left behind her foliage shelter and pulled herself into the town with her tentacles. She made sure to keep herself within the shadows as she moved along. Though she couldn't hear or see anyone, it was no guarantee that she was alone. Someone might be patrolling about in an area nearby, or someone might awaken from their slumber and wander out of their home. She couldn't afford to be seen. If someone saw her, then she would be forced to retreat and would not be able to come back to this town for many days.
She kept in the shadows until she found herself within tentacle's reach of an especially worn hut with coconuts piled up near the door. She checked both ways for any signs of wandering Pokémon, and then hurried over to the makeshift window on the side of the hut. She grabbed at its edges with three tentacles, holding on tight with her suckers, and then pulled herself into the hut.
It was much smaller inside the hut than the Octillery expected. The entire hut was mostly one room, with the beds pushed against the back wall and tables lined with plants and Remoraid towards the door. A cabinet stood against the wall just opposite of her, filled with many pots, pans, and baskets. Everything felt so cramped together. The Octillery could barely lower herself to the floor without her tentacles brushing up against any of the furniture. She had to curl her tentacles around her body, something that felt mildly awkward.
She couldn't remember the last time she had visited a home this small. Though many huts had just one room, they had more space than this. She could only imagine how difficult it was for the residents to navigate through the cramped space.
With that thought in mind, the Octillery brought her gaze to where the beds lay. They weren't so much beds as they were brown mats made out of straw. They didn't look very comfortable, but one wouldn't know that after noticing the Pokémon resting on top of them. Befitting of the small hut, a group of three Pokémon slept soundly before the Octillery. Specifically, two adult Golduck and one hatchling Psyduck. They slept on their own separate mats, but stayed in close proximity to one another. This was especially true for the Psyduck, who at the moment cuddled close to who the Octillery presumed was the mother of the group. She noticed how pleasantly and calmly the Psyduck slumbered, as if in the midst of a happy dream.
The Octillery watched the Psyduck for a moment longer before she crawled back out the window. She didn't need that Psyduck. He was perfectly fine where he was. She still felt the hut was a tad bit too small for the family's needs and fretted over the implications of it, but that Psyduck didn't need to be saved. His life situation might not have been ideal, but he seemed content. He would grow up just fine.
She settled herself onto the sand before retreating back into the shadows. She crept around the neighborhood, avoiding the torchlight like her life depended on it, until she found herself before a much larger hut. This one stood much higher than all the other huts and had more width and length than the Golduck home. The Octillery crawled around the hut until she found a window just large enough for her to squeeze through. She peered into the window, making sure that only darkness stared back at her, and then crawled inside.
As she had suspected, this hut was much nicer than the previous one. The ceiling towered high above her head, at least twenty times her own height, and had a number of rafters holding items of all sorts. There were many furs from various land Pokémon, meats hung up to dry, and articles of clothing to be fetched with ease. Multiple basins and baskets sat upon the flooring, holding fresh water and plants gathered from the deeper parts of the island. But perhaps most noticeable of all, this household didn't sleep on dirty mats. Here, they slept in hammocks tied to nails embedded deep within the hut's mainframe. There were five of them in all, hanging a few feet above the Octillery, each holding a Pokémon within its soft confines. She could hear them all breathing softly from where she stood. However, she couldn't actually see any of the Pokémon. The hammocks were more like cocoons than actual hammocks with the way they almost completely enveloped the Pokémon with their thick fabric. However, she knew there was a way to fix that. She knew she could still see who slept in this hut if she tried hard enough.
The Octillery crept over to the hammocks, careful to move slowly so that her suckers wouldn't make a sound. When she made it to the wall closest to the hammocks, she carefully climbed her way up. It took a bit of effort and she had to carefully weave her tentacles through the hut's framework, but she ascended toward the slumbering Pokémon all the same. Within moments, she had climbed so high up that her head brushed against the very ceiling. Satisfied with this vantage point, the Octillery then set her sights down below.
As she had suspected, the tops of the hammocks remained exposed to the air. She could clearly see each of them slumbering below her. And as it turned out, all of the Pokémon were Grovyle. They all seemed to be young adults, perhaps having recently left behind their childhood homes. Why there were five of them living together, she didn't know. Perhaps they were all friends or siblings who found living together was easier than being separate. Or maybe there was another reason. The Octillery knew there was no way to find out. What she did know, however, was that she didn't need to stay any longer.
The Octillery crawled back down the walls and then plopped back onto the flooring. The moment her tentacles thumped against the ground, one of the hammocks shifted and creaked.
The Octillery threw herself at the wall as a jolt coursed through all three of her hearts. She plastered as many of her tentacles against the wood, taking in its rough, scratchy texture and color. She waited a second, and then changed the tone of her skin to match the wall completely. She even made her body copy the appearance of the texture so that it seemed she had splinters protruding out of her body.
Now seemingly a part of the wall, the Octillery gazed up at the source of the noisy hammock. A green, scaly arm reached out from the edge of the hammock, as if to grasp at something. But just as the Octillery worried that the Grovyle would climb out of the hammock, the arm fell limp. No more movement stirred from the hammock, or any of the other hammocks. Only quiet breathing resonated throughout the hut.
The Octillery waited in the darkness for another minute, eying the hammocks the entire time, and then silently retreated back outside.
She had about five more huts she could venture into in the area. Based on what she could tell, the sun wouldn't rise for another few hours anyway. She could easily search each of the houses and go to the next residential area long before the first ray of dawn lit the sky. Maybe she could investigate three neighborhoods if she was quick enough.
And maybe, just maybe, she wouldn't find someone in need saving.
The Octillery continued her diligent search through the huts. She made sure to keep as quiet as possible as she slinked into each and every home, careful not to knock over anything that might get in her way. A confrontation would be quite unneeded.
She checked every single hut in the vicinity and found that not a single one held a child in need of saving. Some were like that Psyduck in that they could have been living in better conditions, but nothing in their lives could be considered harmful. Everyone in the neighborhood would live healthy lives and become well-adjusted adults.
When the Octillery realized this, she left the homes behind and made her way toward the next neighborhood. She hoped that it wouldn't be very far.
As it turned out, it wasn't. All she had to do was cross through a thick gathering of foliage for a few minutes, and then she found herself in a new neighborhood. It seemed almost identical to the previous residential area with all of the homes being thatched huts. However, she did notice that there did appear to be a few more huts here and they seemed somewhat bigger as well. Not only that, many of the homes had coconut, banana, and palm trees growing right beside them, offering small amounts of shade. She imagined this was the slightly more luxurious neighborhood. Certainly not the richest part of the island, she imagined the huts would be far more extravagant than what she saw now, but an improvement over the other neighborhood.
Of course, looks could be deceiving.
The Octillery checked both ways, and then crawled toward the homes. She didn't bother trying to hide in the shadows this time. With so many trees in the area, she knew she could easily blend into their bark the second someone spotted her. So long as she kept close to a tree as she searched about, she would be just fine.
The Octillery had barely emerged from the foliage when she heard something scurrying across the sand. She shirked back into the trees and changed her skin into a deep green before peering at the source of the sound.
Much to her surprise, she saw a young Scraggy sprinting across the sand not far from where she hid. He was a skinny thing with his ribs being quite pronounced and the majority of his body lacking any semblance of muscle tone. He could barely hold up the loose skin around his feet as he made his way to the nearest banana tree in the area. He nearly tripped several times in the process. The mere sight of that made the Octillery's tentacles curl in on themselves in tight, uncomfortable knots.
Within a few moments, the Scraggy neared the tree. However, rather than stopping, he only increased his speed with a desperate, almost crazed glimmer in his eyes. Seconds later, he rammed his skull directly into the tree's trunk.
The entire tree shook violently. A few of its leaves tumbled to the ground around the Scraggy, but not the bright yellow bunch of bananas the Scraggy so fervently eyed. Not even a single banana moved an inch from the bunch.
The Scraggy muttered something under his breath as he took a few steps back before he struck the tree once again. As before, the tree trembled and even more leaves plummeted to the sand, but the bananas would not budge.
The Octillery watched as the Scraggy let out an almost feral cry before repeatedly attacking the tree, kicking, punching, and bashing his head into it with all his might. She could see the blood leaking out of his knuckles as he repeated the tree, making no progress whatsoever.
All three of her hearts broke at the sight.
"Stop, please stop," she spoke as she emerged from her hiding spot and neared the Scraggy. "Stop hurting yourself."
The little Pokémon swiveled his head toward the Octillery before flinching back. He let out a low whimper as he pulled his loose skin over his head, hiding himself from the Octillery's view. His knees shook so much that she worried that they would collapse on him.
"Little boy, it's alright," she said to him in a calm, soft voice as she stopped a few feet away from him. "I'm not going to hurt you."
The Scraggy wouldn't respond. He only continued to shield himself from her, too frightened to move an inch. The Octillery looked up at the bananas still hanging from the tree for just a second before bringing her gaze back to the boy.
"Here, let me help you," she told him. "Give me one moment."
The Octillery crawled over to the base of the tree before wrapping her tentacles around the trunk. Once her suckers latched on tight to the dry, smooth wood, she pulled herself up. She carefully climbed up the tree, tying her tentacles around the thick leaves and using them to hoist herself up until she was right beside the lowest banana bunch. She took one of her tentacles and wrapped it around the branch that connected them to the tree. Once she securely latched onto it with the one tendril, she released her hold on the main tree and plummeted toward the sand.
There was a snap, and the banana bunch separated itself from the tree and followed after the Octillery. She swiftly released her hold on the bananas, and then gracefully landed on all eight of her tentacles. The banana bunch collapsed in the sand right beside her, missing a couple of her arms by a few inches.
The Octillery gingerly wrapped one of her tentacles around a single banana and pried it free from the bunch with an effortless pull. She then presented it to the Scraggy before her, who still had his loose skin over his face. He probably hadn't even noticed what she had done.
"Here, take this," she said.
The Scraggy lowered his skin just a tiny bit, allowing the Octillery to see the tops of his eyes. They were both bloodshot and his pupils were dilated to the extremes.
The Scraggy eyed the banana, remaining as still as a statue. Then, in a flash, he snatched the banana out of the Octillery's tentacle and wolfed it right down. He didn't even bother to peel it; he only shoved as much as he could into his mouth, swallowed it down after a couple of bites, and then proceeded to repeat the process. Within seconds, the entire banana was gone. The Octillery wasted no time in ripping another banana off the bunch and giving it to the Scraggy. He ate this one just as ravenously.
For the next few moments, all the Octillery did was give the Scraggy fruit and let him scarf it down. She would keep giving him a banana every single time he finished his current one, saying nothing as he ate. By the time he finally stopped eating, nearly the entire bunch had been devoured.
The now full Scraggy released a relieved sigh before slumping to the ground. His entire face was caked with white mush, but he didn't bother wiping it off of him. He only laid there in the sand, gazing up at the stars with a lulled, lethargic stare.
The Octillery cautiously neared him. He didn't shirk away and only continued to watch the sky above. Before long, she found herself by the little child's side. Now that she had a much better view of the Scraggy, she could see how small he was. He was quite a few inches shorter than Scraggy ought to be at his age. His scrawny form didn't help much.
"Are you feeling better?" the Octillery asked.
The Scraggy nodded slowly. She could see him practically nodding off to sleep.
Now she needed to know if this Scraggy was in need of saving. It could be tricky obtaining the answers she sought from him. He was still a child after all. However, she had gained enough trust from this child for it to be decidedly less problematic than it could potentially be. He wouldn't let her this near if he didn't feel some semblance of safety in her company.
"Why were you trying to get bananas from this tree?" the Octillery asked.
"I was hungry," the Scraggy said in a scratchy, quiet voice without looking at her. "I don't have any food."
"There's no food in your home?"
"No… but my tummy hurt. I couldn't sleep. My tummy kept talking when I closed my eyes. So I tried to get some of the bananananas. They taste yummy and make my tummy stop talking."
"If you were so hungry, why didn't you ask your parents for something to eat?"
"Mommy and daddy aren't home."
"Where are mommy and daddy?"
"I don't know. Mommy and daddy like to go away sometimes."
The Octillery glared at the Scraggy's home in the near distance. She noticed that the entrance wasn't covered up by anything unlike the other huts, exposing it to the cool night wind. She couldn't see any semblance of slumbering Pokémon within the hut. Only an unkempt hut flooding with useless junk stared back at her in the light of the pale moon. It was hardly sanitary.
"How long have mommy and daddy been gone?" she asked, hiding her growing bitterness the best she could.
"Three days," the Scraggy said as he held up his paws and counted each of his claws.
"Three days? And what have you been doing this entire time?"
"Staying inside like they tell me to. I watch the wall and I wait for them to come home. I try to not listen to my tummy when it talks to me. But sometimes it hurts too much when it talks and I go outside so it can stop talking."
"And how often are you left at home by yourself like this?"
"A lot. Mommy and daddy like to go places a lot. They won't take me with them even though I keep asking them to. They tell me to stay home. I try not to cry when they leave, but sometimes I do. I don't like being all alone. There's nobody to talk to."
The Octillery could see now that this Scraggy clearly did need help. He could speak his thoughts clearly enough, but he would cease to develop further if he stayed in that house. He already showed signs with his lack of eye contact and flat affect.
The fact that he now lay slumbering before the Octillery further worried her. Eating all of those bananas and attacking the tree for as long as he had shouldn't have tired him out that quickly.
The Octillery briefly checked around her. Not a single Pokémon roamed about. All that surrounded her was the darkness of the night with the sounds of the distant ocean tide to accompany it.
She did one last visual scan of the vicinity, and then swiftly picked up the snoozing Scraggy in two of her tentacles. This didn't rouse him in the slightest. He moved slightly, stretching his skeletal arms, but he didn't struggle or open his eyes.
"Don't worry, you won't need to suffer any longer," she told him. "You're safe now."
She secured her grip around the Scraggy, making sure she didn't hold him too tightly, and then crawled back into the foliage. She weaved her way through it with the utmost care, doing her best not to let any of the leaves or branches brush up against the little boy. It took quite a bit of time, far longer than she was comfortable with, but she couldn't rush with the Scraggy in tow. She had to treat all of her children with all the gentleness her species could offer. This would have been much easier if she had been hatched a creature with hands, but she knew there was nothing she could do about that.
She should have been thankfully that she had prehensile limbs of any sort after being a finned creature of the water for a couple of decades.
After some time of diligently and carefully weaving her way through the island's vegetation, the Octillery finally found herself back at the beach. The cold waves rolled onto the soft sand before receding back into the ocean, as if beckoning the Octillery to follow them.
She looked down at the Scraggy in her tentacles to find that he still slept. She hoped it would stay that way. It was always much easier to carry passengers through the water when they weren't actively fighting with her. She sometimes had to put them to sleep to help lessen the burden, but it was never easy. It always stung her heart no matter how many times she had to do it. Fighting with younglings was perhaps her least favorite activity in the entire world.
With the Scraggy asleep, she wouldn't need to worry about any of that. All she had to think about now was how exactly she would carry him through the water. If he was a water-type, then there would be absolutely no concerns. The second any water-type submerges regardless of if they are conscious or not, they automatically use their gills and their lungs adapt accordingly.
Of course, this was impossible if the Pokémon wasn't a water Pokémon to begin with. If she tried to swim through the ocean with him now, he would most certainly drown in a matter of minutes.
But she didn't fret because as it turned out, there actually was a way to dive into the ocean without the child suffocating.
The Octillery crawled to the shoreline until the waves brushed up against her tentacles. She took in the salty smell of the ocean for just a moment as it passed under the rest of her body, letting it wash out the sand sticking to her suckers and moisten her tentacles.
Then, just as the water slowly receded back into the ocean, she absorbed a small amount into her body through her suckers. She sucked it all in and felt it pumping through her body. She focused as it flowed through her, energizing it with a special power that rested within her soul. She could feel a tingling feeling sweep through her body as the water made its way toward her long mouth.
She lowered her head so that her mouth hovered right above the sleeping Scraggy. She let all of the water gather at the back of her mouth, holding it back as all of the water slowly centralized in that particular area.
Then, once every bit of water was exactly where she wanted it to be, she released it all from her mouth and dumped it onto the Scraggy.
The water washed over the little child, but it didn't drip down into the waves. Instead, it seeped directly into the Scraggy's body. The Octillery watched as light blue spots appeared on his skin and slowly encroached the rest of his body. As this happened, three vertical cuts carved themselves into each side of his face. They ran parallel to each other as they etched themselves deep into his flesh and carefully intertwined with his respiratory system. The Scraggy shifted in his sleep as his body underwent the metamorphosis, but the Octillery only had to softly caress the top of his head to soothe him.
Within a matter of moments, the transformation finished. No longer did a scrawny little child of the land rest in her tentacles; he was a creature of the ocean now. Besides being a bright aqua color now, he now had the very gills every water-type possessed. They fluttered on his cheeks as they waited for water to rush through them, as if they had always been a part of his anatomy since his hatching day. Of course, despite how real they seemed at the moment, the Octillery knew they weren't permanent. They would disappear in a few hours, and when that happened, he would become a land Pokémon once again.
This was all the incentive the Octillery needed to hurry back home.
She tightened her grip on the sleeping child and then hurried into the water. She let the receding waves take her deeper into the ocean until most of her body fell beneath the surface. Then, she swam far into the ocean with the Scraggy in tow.
The child continued to sleep soundly as he sunk into the cold waters. His gills activated upon touching the water, instantly filtering out all of the oxygen from the water he needed and sending it into his body. He didn't even cough as water flooded into his mouth and gushed down his throat. He only slept peacefully, as if he truly were a water-type.
The Octillery would have smiled if she still could as she swam further out into the ocean. It wasn't long before the massive island became nothing more than an insignificant speck amongst the night. Then, it melted into the pale moonlight and became nothing. All that surrounded the Octillery and the child was the seemingly endless black sea, stretching for miles and miles.
She didn't fret, however. The hardest part of her hunt was over with. This night's hunt could actually be considered one of her most simple, straight-forward hunts in a long while. She hadn't run into any adults wandering about the neighborhoods at all that night. Normally, there were a few adults out and about, usually because they were unable to sleep and felt a nightly stroll might soothe them. Then also, some Pokémon enjoyed sleeping on the beach, particularly the adolescents and young adults. Something about being so close to the water, lying in the cool sand, and basking in the moonlight captivated them. Of course, it was never difficult to sneak past these Pokémon, but the Octillery never did like to entertain the thought that one of them might open their eyes when she crawled out of the ocean. She imagined in their drowsy state they would see her as a sea monster ready to devour them on the spot or perhaps drag them into the dark depths of the ocean. She could only imagine the panicked reactions that would ensue.
However, that was nothing compared to actually taking the helpless children out of their doomed homes. Most of the time, the parents were home. They weren't usually anywhere near the children, but they would still be close enough that the Octillery could hear them breathing. Or even worse, the parents would be awake by the time she arrived and wouldn't sleep until nearly dawn. Retrieving the children out of their homes when the adults remained so close was always the most dangerous part of the hunt. If the child made one sound or if the adults saw even a glimpse of her in the moonlight, utter chaos would ensue.
She remembered the worst incident of this happening was with an Azurill she found five years ago. His parents held a toxic relationship with one another. The mother was a dominating figure who constantly belittled the father for his failures in life, such as being unable to hold a job and for being unable to stand up for himself. The father was just as vitriolic in return, accusing the mother of being a complete dictator who felt she had to rule over everyone else in order to feel better about herself. It was a terrible sort of relationship, one that poisoned both partners, but the Octillery knew that they would never go their separate ways. Because underneath that contempt they held for each other, they needed each other on a deep and disturbing level. They needed the other to boost their self-esteem, to constantly remind themselves that they weren't as flawed as the Pokémon before them.
So naturally, it was only right to take their child away before their detrimental relationship tainted him. So when the two finally went off to sleep after yelling at each other for many hours, the Octillery made her move. She approached the Azurill's bed and then wrapped her tentacles around his body. After making sure that he didn't stir from her cold touch, she then hoisted him out of the bed and slinked toward the nearest window.
She was just about to slip back out into the night when the father spotted her. She really shouldn't have been surprised, given that Azumarill had excellent hearing, but it did. Especially when she saw the father turn from bemused to practically exploding with rage.
That had been the fastest she had ever hurried back to the water. She could still hear the vicious curses the father threw at her, all the while waking up every single Pokémon in the neighborhood. She was sure they all saw her in the light of the torches before she threw herself into the black sea.
She had never gone back to that particular island after that incident. Even after all those years, she wasn't sure that any of the residents forgot about her. Seeing an Octillery forcefully taking a child out of someone's home and never seeing that child again surely must have left an impact. But maybe she could go back sometime soon. There might be more children on that island in need of saving. She couldn't stay away forever just because one hunt had gone horribly wrong. Maybe during her next hunt she would go back to that island after so long.
But for now, she would be content with the success of her current hunt. She had her child safely curled up in her tentacles and the ocean felt particularly pleasant, as if personally congratulating her. There was no need to fret about anything now. She only needed to keep swimming close to the surface until she reached her home. She only hoped that the others would accept the little Scraggy.
Of course, she needed to come up with an explanation as to how she found this Scraggy. Not only that, but she needed to talk to the child and help him understand why she would now be living with him. He needed to see why he could no longer stay in that empty home and why he could never speak of what had happened that night. At least, not completely and honestly.
She would need to find a good time to speak to him about that. Hopefully she could do so before the others found her and questioned the boy. She couldn't expect them to only trust her words. It didn't matter that they had known her for many decades; they would still wonder why the Scraggy had to live with them. They would want to know why he needed to be cared for and what happened to his parents.
That's how adults were. They wanted to know why. They wanted to know why anything happened. They couldn't accept anything at face value. No, they had to ask why this was happening and why that was happening and why someone would let it happen. They had to bombard everything with their questions and dissect what lay before them until it was nothing but a hollow shell of its former self.
The Octillery saw something dark move through the water before she continue seething at the thought of adults and their constant questions. She slowed her momentum as she eyed the waters. She found she couldn't see anything in the white moonlight. Only emptiness filled the black sea.
She curled two more tentacles around the still slumbering Scraggy as the sound of her three hearts pounded in her head. She could feel practically feel each of her tentacles shivering. Several times she thought she felt something brush against her suckers, prompting her to recoil a few inches back. It always felt bristly and cold.
White hot pain struck the Octillery in one of her tentacles. Specifically, in one of the tentacles holding her Scraggy. She thrashed violently as she withdrew her tentacle, but found that she couldn't. Something held her tentacle with an astonishing strength, something that continued to bury deeper and deeper into her flesh. With some reluctance, the Octillery peered at her assailant.
It was a large, bulky Sharpedo almost twice her size. A number of nasty scars ran up and down its body, one in particular over its entire left eye. The Sharpedo tore deep into her tentacle with its massive jaws and clouding up the water with blue blood. Its one good eye glowed with a sinister red through the wraith-like blood, like an eerie moon in a hazy night. She saw no semblance of intelligence in the creature; only the blank ferocity of a hungry feral.
It sank its fangs further into her tentacle before yanking her with a violent tug. The Octillery flew through the water just as the predator released its hold on her and chomped down on her head seconds later. She proved just fast enough to move out of the way, causing its fangs to snap down inches away from her. Then, she shot thick, black ink out of her mouth and into the Sharpedo's eyes. It quickly filled the water with its dark, impenetrable darkness.
She wasted no time in righting herself in the water before jetting out of the growing cloud of murk. She could still feel the fiery stinging sensation in her one tentacle, but she ignored it the best she could. She didn't even look at it; she could assess the damage when she was safe. After all, her ink would only distract the Sharpedo for so long. That Sharpedo would eventually escape from the black cloud. It would smell her blood in the water and track her down with startling speed and accuracy. She could be miles and miles away and it would reach her within minutes to finish its job.
Her only hope of escape was to get home. If she could get home, she would be safe. She knew she could always dive to the ocean floor and hide in the coral, but that was too risky. She didn't know if there actually was any coral to take shelter in. Not only that, but she still had the Scraggy. He couldn't fit in between the cracks of the reef as easily as she could.
She glanced at the little child to find that he still slept. Somehow, despite all the tossing and turning, he remained fast asleep. She didn't know whether to feel thankful or deeply troubled.
Something shifted in the black ink, peeling the Octillery's eyes away from the child and back to the danger at hand. Seconds later, the Sharpedo shot out of the cloud and torpedoed straight toward her. Even with the half mile distance she had put between the two, she knew it would do little good. It would catch up in seconds. She had no time to hurry to the bottom of the ocean now. She could already see the white of its fangs and the insidious glow of its murderous eyes.
There was no escape.
When she realized this, she knew that there was only one way for her to survive. It would be tricky and she most certainly hadn't attempted it before, but she no other choice. There was only thing she could do to save herself. She couldn't die and leave the Scraggy as the Sharpedo's next meal. She couldn't die for his sake.
She couldn't die for the sakes of all the children she still had to save.
She unfurled her tense tentacles into the water, allowing all but two of them to drift freely through the air. She kept her firm hold on the Scraggy as she watched the Sharpedo zero in on her. Any second now it would clamp its monstrous jaws down on her or the Scraggy. She had only one shot at this. One wrong move and that Sharpedo might rip off one of her tentacles or tear out one of her hearts.
She tried not to shudder as the Sharpedo finally closed in on her.
She waited until the jaws were just about to snap down on her head, and then dove beneath the beast. Then, just before the Sharpedo could change its course, she wrapped her tentacles around its entire body. She ignored the bristly touch as she tightened her grip around the Sharpedo and encircled its entire body to the best of her ability. The Sharpedo struggled, thrashing and snapping its jaws about, but it couldn't break free from her grasp.
The Octillery fastened her suckers to the Sharpedo, and then immediately flipped it belly up.
The savage beast suddenly stopped struggling. All of the ferocity in its eyes vanished as it became utterly limp in the water like a wayward strand of seaweed. Not a single part of its body twitched as the Octillery held it in this flipped position.
She kept her grip tight around the Sharpedo. Even though she had pacified it and forced it into an inert state, it was still alive. She could clearly see the movements in its gills. If she let go of the Sharpedo now, it would only turn itself back over and make a meal out of her. There was no reasoning with a feral hungry for her blood. If she ever wanted to make it back home, this Sharpedo had to perish. It was her life or its.
She didn't feel a shred of reluctance as she continued to hold the paralyzed, now almost peaceful Sharpedo in this vulnerable position. She only watched its gills with a cautious eye, their fluttering slowing with each minute.
When she could no longer see the gills moving nor feel a heartbeat emitting from the Sharpedo, she released her hold on the beast. She jetted away a few feet before stopping and bringing her eye back to the Sharpedo. She waited for the slightest bit of movement, the slightest twitch of its fins.
The Sharpedo remained completely still as the ocean currently slowly pushed it away. It wasn't long before the great killer was nothing more than the darkness of the vast ocean.
The Octillery watched the dead Sharpedo drift into the black for a moment longer, and then swam away.
The sun had begun to peer over the horizon by the time the Octillery finally stopped. Every part of her body ached and the tentacle the Sharpedo had bitten now had a numbing ache to it. She could barely feel the water brushing past her suckers on that particular tentacle as she jetted through the ocean. However, despite this, she still refused to look at it. She needed to get the Scraggy inside her home first. His safety was her primary objective. She'd rather that all of her tentacles be cut off than have the Scraggy have even one scratch anywhere on his body. She would assess her damage when he was entirely safe and out of harm's way.
Fortunately, the destination she sought stood right before her; a shallow underwater cavern. It lay brimming with coral that held all the colors of the rainbow. Just about every wall and rock to be found on the ocean floor was covered with such delicate beauty, allowing not a single speck of dull grey to be seen. Many of them swayed in the ocean's gentle currents, waving back and forth as if to welcome the Octillery back home after her long and arduous trip.
The Octillery couldn't help but want to wave back. She basked in the quiet and serene beauty of the reef. Huntail and Gorebyss weaved in and out of the coral. Corsola glimmered with iridescent colors in the light as they slept. Horsea flittered about with their tiny fins, swimming endless circles around the particularly rocky coral. The Octillery even thought she saw another of her kind slumbering inside an empty shell that once belonged to an Omastar.
There was no danger to be found here. No Sharpedo or Mareanie ever dwelled in this cavern. They made sure to stay far away from this haven, lest they evoke the wrath of the cavern's caretakers.
The Octillery swam past all of the coral and all of its residents until she reached one of the many holes in the ceiling of the great cave. She ascended up to the water's surface, and then crawled out of the vibrant cavern.
She now found herself inside the dry part of the cavern. Grey, smooth stone surrounded her completely. Moss grew here and there, particularly where the sun shined down through the gaps in the ceiling, but it didn't cover the cave nearly as much as the coral did. Compared to the reef, the actual cave seemed bleak and lifeless. The many tunnels that lead further down into darker areas of the cave didn't help matters.
However, the Octillery didn't mind. Not every part of her home had to be lively.
"Oh, I thought I heard someone surfacing around here."
The Octillery froze on the spot. She instinctually curled her arm around the Scraggy and hid him behind her head.
"Jera, relax. It's me, Ludo."
The Octillery looked into the nearest tunnel to see a Lombre slowly emerging from its dark depths. She could see how even though he spoke cautiously, he moved at a casual, almost hurried pace.
She loosened her grip around her sleeping Scraggy and set him down beside her. She noted that his gills were slowly disappearing. His skin slowly stitched itself back together, closing up the slits at a steady pace. She imagined in another few minutes they would be gone entirely. The blue tint to his skin would surely follow shortly after.
"Oh, who have you got here?" Ludo asked as he stopped before her and eyed the child.
"A Scraggy I found," Jera answered. "His parents abandoned him on the beach."
"Oh, that's just heart-breaking. I don't understand how his parents could have done that to him. It looks like he's been out there for a few days too. Look at how bony he is. Poor fellow."
"He'll be okay now that he's here. We have room for him, don't we?"
"Yeah, of course. Here, let me see him and I'll-"
Jera twisted a tentacle around the Scraggy's body from Ludo before he could even reach out with his claws. She saw him flinch at her sudden reaction. Jera couldn't help but flinch internally as well. She hadn't intended to react that way. It had been instinct.
"Actually, I want to hold onto him until he wakes up," she said in a subdued voice. "I worry that he won't react well to being around more strangers. It was already an effort to get him to trust me and come with me. I worry what he will do around you and the others."
"Well… I guess I can see why you'd say that," Ludo said as he scratched his head. "But are you sure you don't want me to take care of him for a while you take care of your arm? What happened with that anyway? It looks really bad."
It was then that Jera finally remembered that a Sharpedo had torn apart one of her tentacles earlier. She had been so preoccupied with getting the Scraggy to the cavern that she had completely forgotten about her arm's condition. She hadn't even felt the stinging, aching sensation in it because she had been so focused on just about everything else. Without wasting another moment, Jera glanced down at her injured tentacle and gave it a long, overdue assessment.
Her tentacle turned out to be in a much better condition than she had anticipated. While it did look absolutely gruesome with rows of deep puncture wounds digging deep into her arm and bits of flesh dangling limply off the sides, her arm still remained in one piece. She could still grasp with her suckers and move her arm. Granted, it hurt when she twisted it and she couldn't move it with as much dexterity as before, but it still functioned. She imagined with proper care her arm would eventually heal and its full capabilities would return in due time. She imagined it couldn't take more than a couple of weeks.
"It was a Sharpedo attack," Jera answered plainly as she brought her gaze back to the Lombre. "Nothing I couldn't handle."
"A Sharpedo did that to you?" Ludo asked with a pained grimace. "Yeowch. I'm amazed that's all it did to you. Hardly anyone escapes from those vicious things without missing claws or body parts. Or bleeding everywhere."
"Regardless of the attack and what it did to me, I have seven other tentacles that function just fine. There's no need to be bothered by one that doesn't work as well as it could."
"Are you sure about that? It's really no issue. Maybe Serenity can watch over him. You know how she has a way with children."
"I'm sure. I will look after this Scraggy for now."
"Alright… if you say so. I'll go tell the others that we've got another child here. We'll find a place to put him in. You sure you don't want me to get you anything for your arm while I'm doing that?"
"No. A good night's rest will provide me all I need."
"And you're sure you don't want us to watch that Scraggy while you're sleeping? What if he wakes up while you're trying to sleep?"
Jera could already feel herself losing patience with Ludo. He didn't know when to stop pestering her. He couldn't seem to understand that she had everything under control.
"Everything will be fine," Jera said, forcing herself to remain composed. "The child will be safe with me even though I am injured. He will be able to integrate with the others after we both rest for a time."
"Alright alright, I'll stop bothering you," the Lombre said with a sigh. "Go on and get some rest."
"I will."
Jera picked up the Scraggy off the ground and then carried him into one of the tunnels near her. She crawled through the darkness for a few moments, and then found herself in one of the cavern's many sleeping chambers. About a dozen kelp beds lay on the stone floor, all of them holding young Pokémon ranging from a Squirtle no older than eight months to a Staryu at the end of his adolescence. Jera could clearly see all of them sitting up in their beds, yawning, stretching, rubbing their eyes, and all forms of morning rituals depending on their anatomy. She imagined that they had all woken up only minutes ago.
She had only crawled for a short moment through the chamber when one of the children, a Pichu, pointed a tiny finger at her.
"Everyone, look!" she shouted in a chirpy voice. "It's Mama Jera! Mama Jera is here!"
Everyone in the room stopped what they were doing and brought their gazes to the Octillery. Any lulling energy they might have been giving off promptly vanished as their eyes lit up. With a loud clamor of yelling, every single child sprang out of their beds and rushed toward Jera. The Octillery beamed at each of the children as they swarmed around her and playfully grabbed at her tentacles. She could smell all of the seaweed on each of their bodies.
"I missed you Mama Jera!" the Pichu said as she buried her face in the Octillery's tentacles.
"I missed you more, Mama Jera!" the Squirtle insisted. "Way more than Lya!"
"Mama Jera, we were wondering where you were!" a Totodile no older than eight said as he swung one of the Octillery's tentacles up and down. "You're usually here before we wake up!"
"Henry kept saying that something happened while you were gone!" a Froakie of three chimed in as he pointed to a Natu beside him. "He… He kept saying that some Sharkedo got you! He said that it ate you and that we wouldn't have you anymore!"
"Ah, well Henry was right. Almost," Jera said with a little laugh. "A Sharpedo did attack me while I was swimming home last night. See?"
She laid out her injured tentacle before the group. All of the children gasped as they let go out her and circled around the maimed arm. They pointed at it and dared each other to poke it with shuddering claws.
"Mama Jera's got blue coming out of her!" the Squirtle cried before he touched the blood before cringing back. "It's warm! It's sticky!"
"Why's there blue?" the Froakie asked. "Mama Jera is red and yellow. She's not blue!"
"That's her blood, Francis," the Staryu answered with a condescending scoffing sound.
"Blood isn't blue, dummy! Blood is red!" the Froakie shot back. "When Lya cut her paw with a rock, red came out of her!"
"Because Lya is a Pichu and lives on land. Octillery blood is blue because she doesn't take in oxygen like Lya. Mama Jera takes in oxygen through the water. She has something else in her blood that Lya doesn't that makes her blood blue."
"But Mama Jera can breathe on land just like us! Our blood isn't blue!"
"Octillery are special. They're not like us. She has something in her blood that we won't."
"Mama Jera, how did you escape from the Sharpedo?" the Totodile asked. "I thought they eat anyone they attack."
"I strangled it," Jera replied in a cheerful tone. "I grabbed him with my tentacles and I flipped him over. Killed him in minutes. I did it just like this!"
She wrapped three of her tentacles around the Totodile before promptly turning him upside-down. The Totodile started laughing giddily as he squirmed about. All of the other children soon laughed with him before pulling at her tentacles.
"I wanna be flipped over too!" the Pichu squealed. "I wanna know how that Sharkedo felt!"
"Me too!" the Froakie cried. "I wanna go next! Pick me, pick me!"
Jera laughed as she took as many children as she could in her available tentacles and turned them upside-down. Every single one of them laughed all the more heartily as the blood rushed to their heads and disoriented them. It only encouraged both them and their grounded friends to laugh harder.
"Are we going to die if we get flipped over?" an Eevee about five years old asked timidly, the only one not laughing in the group.
"Only if you're a Sharpedo," the Staryu answered for Jera. "They only die when you flip them over because they can't breathe anymore. Flipping them over paralyzes them. Flipping over anyone else just makes everything look weird."
"So if I ever come across a Sharpedo, I should flip it over then?" the Eevee asked with a tilt of her head.
"I think you should just swim away," the Staryu answered. "You don't exactly have anything that'll let you turn it over. You don't have tentacles like Mama Jera."
"I'll grow tentacles then! I'll evolve and become a Vaporeon, and I'll grow tentacles so I can strangle Sharpedos! Just like Mama Jera!"
"You can't grow tentacles as a Vaporeon. Vaporeon don't have tentacles."
"I'll have some! I'll get a water stone and when I evolve, I'll tell the stone to give me tentacles! And then I'll have tentacles instead of paws and I can strangle Sharpedo!"
"That's not how it… you know what, never mind. Let me know how that goes when you get yourself a water stone and become a Vaporeon, Daisy."
"Hey look everyone! Mama Jera has someone behind her back!" a Mudkip then cried.
Everyone stopped laughing and looked toward the Mudkip. He stood right next to the entangled Scraggy, who somehow managed to stay asleep despite all of the noise. Jera gently set each of the children down and allowed them to gather around the Scraggy. They all watched him with curious eyes, as though he were an entirely new species of Pokémon they had never seen before.
"Ah, I almost forgot to tell each of you something," Jera said. "This is your newest brother. I found him today and he is going to be a part of our family as soon as he wakes up."
"He looks kind of funny," the Froakie stated. "Why does his skin do that around his chest? What are those things sticking out of his chest?"
"He's very hungry," Jera explained somberly. "He hasn't had the best things to eat. He's going to look like this for a little while. But he'll look a lot better when he's had more to eat."
"We can feed him Clauncher!" the Mudkip suggested. "Clauncher fatten you up! Just look at Henry!"
"Shut up! You eat Clauncher all the time too!" the Natu hissed. "You can barely run without passing out!"
"Do not!"
"Do too!"
"Do not!"
"Do too!"
"Henry, Marsh, that's enough," Jera cut in with a harsh tone. "I don't want you two fighting. You'll wake up your new brother. He's very tired and needs rest."
"Okay Mama Jera…" they both said in unison as they hung their heads.
"Good," she said as she gently caressed both of their heads, bringing a smile to each of their faces. "Now then, I was going to get some sleep. I had to swim a long ways to find your brother and strangle a Sharpedo too."
"Awwwwwww!" all of the children whined at once.
"Mama Jera, can't you stay up a little bit more?" the Pichu asked.
"Please? Pretty please?" the Froakie asked as well.
"Sleeping is boring!" the Squirtle added. "We wanna play more with you!"
"I wish I could, but I really do need sleep," Jera said softly. "But I promise, when I wake up, I'll play with all of you. And so will your new brother. I'll take all of you to the coral reef in the cavern and we'll play hide and seek."
"Yay! Hide and seek!"
"I love hide and seek in the coral!"
"None of you guys are going to be able to find me!"
"I bet I can find all of you in five seconds! I'm the best!"
"I bet I can find all of you in one second!"
"I bet I can find all of you in zero seconds!"
"You can't find someone in zero seconds!"
"Can too!"
"Can not!"
"Can too!"
Jera laughed as she watched the children before her then bicker amongst one another, each one claiming to be the best of their siblings. She could still remember the horrendous conditions she had originally found each of them. Henry's family could never have a pleasant conversation, always bickering and screaming at each other over the most trivial of things. Marsh's parents refused to allow him to leave the house under the fear that he would hurt himself. They would lock him inside each and every day, never allowing anyone to see him. Daisy's parents held the most absurd expectations about their daughter, for instance always telling her to eat very specific types of food at very specific times. They had even wanted her to evolve into an Espeon the moment she turned four so that she would become the island's sole psychic and serve as its supposed seer.
Each of these children had stories that broke Jera's hearts. She could still remember how much she had to hold back tears when she found some of them battered and bruised, inches away from death.
All of the children standing before Jera had such dysfunctional families. All of these children were doomed to a life of emotional hardships and psychological damage thanks to their parents.
But thanks to Jera, their fate had changed. Once miserable Pokémon, now they laughed and smiled and developed as any normal child ought to. Not a single one held any development delays and all were quite social, playful children.
The very thought of that made each of Jera's hearts melt.
She slinked away as the children threw juvenile insults at one another and retreated to her bed on the far side of the chamber. Unlike all of the children's beds, hers was the remains of a Cloyster shell. It was an odd choice for a bed, she knew that. All the others in the cavern slept in much more roomy materials such as kelp, feathers, straw, or even furs of various land Pokémon they had caught. However, Jera found no better comfort than to be surrounded completely in hard shell. It added a sense of protection and security she could feel almost nowhere else.
The Octillery set the Scraggy down, and then crawled inside her bed. She shifted about until she found a comfortable position to settle into. Then, she pulled the Scraggy closer to her so that he was just outside of the shell, but still resting close to her head. She wrapped him up in two of her tentacles so that it almost seemed like she was cradling him.
"Welcome to your new home, my little child," she whispered softly. "You'll love it here."
The Scraggy remained asleep, but she thought she saw the smallest hint of a smile from him.
Jera watched the little Scraggy for a few more moments, and then gave in to the lethargy slowly washing over her.