Chapter 8
Teach
"Squirtle, Squirtle, Squirtle!" Quil's panicked yelling filled his head.
Squirtle's eyelids fluttered. He felt dazed, and weary. For a moment, staying awake was difficult. Relaxing his body and letting the river carry him would have been fantastic. Quil made his presence very well known, however, and Squirtle was not allowed to drift off in either sense of the word.
"Swim, swim!" Quil shouted as he knocked on Squirtle's shell. With great reluctance, Squirtle swam onward with slow strokes. His limp tail floated behind him.
The thick steam around the pair grew nebulous as it evaporated. It had served its purpose of providing visual cover for a few precious seconds. Without it, the Electric attack may have been a direct hit. The ferry ahead became visible, as did the Elekid and Nuzleaf far behind.
"Don't you dare return!" the Nuzleaf shouted from the faraway pier. Squirtle recognized that he should have found that amusing, but could not determine why. Quil also seemed to find no humor in the Nuzleaf's threat, but clutched Squirtle's shell back firmly, shivering every now and then.
At first, Squirtle fancied he was imagining it, but it became clear that the ferry was slowing down. It stopped, as if gracefully waiting for him to swim to it. Squirtle felt quite grateful, since he doubted he could have caught up in his exhausted state.
The vessel was essentially a large, flat, wooden raft, with protective wooden sides three or four feet tall. As Squirtle neared the raft, he could feel Quil tensing up and rising to his legs. Without any vocal warning, he pushed off hard and leaped up and into the raft. Squirtle was thrust underwater. Contrary to feeling angry and alarmed, Squirtle felt even more at peace. With the burden of Quil's safety off of his mind, and the weight of Quil's body removed from his back, Squirtle could have sank to the riverbed and been asleep before he touched down. He was light as a feather. The water, now surrounding his entire body, felt wonderful. His eyes drifted closed and a contented smile spread across his face.
The water beneath him suddenly pushed against his left arm, flipping him over to his back. Then his shell back felt the pressure and he was thrust toward the sparkling surface. The river ejected him with a splash, and Squirtle found himself falling feet-first toward the ferry's deck. Surprised faces looked up at him before he landed and fell weakly to his hands. A second later he was on his belly, catching his breath. The ferry jerked into motion once more.
Squirtle was allowed to rest for a moment, but then a round, squishy object was pressed against his cheek.
"Eat this, Squirtle, you'll feel better." The voice's rich and deep tone was familiar to him. Enough to trust for the time being.
Squinting at the object, it appeared to be a blue berry with faint dimples. Summoning the willpower to take a bite was challenging, but at last he bit into the berry.
The taste was sweeter than a blend of fresh fruit juices. There was no tang, spice, or competing flavors. A simple taste, but powerful because of its straightforward nature. As he took another bite of the berry, the deck of the ferry no longer seemed so welcoming. Likewise, his eyelids no longer wanted to stay closed. Squirtle felt his stamina returning to him, like a flower unfurling and stretching its petals to bloom in the warmth of sunlight.
"Wow! What is this berry?" He stood, looking around the ferry for the first time.
The deck was painted white at one point, but was now chipped and peeling in places from age. The only things on board were Pokémon, and various bags and boxes on the sides beneath the gunwales. Ropes led from the bow of the raft-ship to beneath the surface, where presumably something pulled the ferry. The opposite bank of the Karp river was visible, and even the pale silhouettes of mountains far beyond. The scenery seemed to rock gently because of the raft's movement.
Squirtle looked for Quil, and spied him tightly curled up alone in the exact center of the ferry. His fire had receded to its usual size – a reassuring sign. The ball of fur and flame that was Quil did not seem likely to uncurl any time soon though.
Also on board were a Sunflora and a Gloom. Both Pokémon were watching him curiously. He had made a grand entrance, after all. They bobbed their heads in greeting, which Squirtle returned. Standing right next to him was a familiar face. The Palpitoad he had spoken to about finding a Psychic-type was grinning down at him.
"It's an Oran, of course! We keep some food supplies on board in case of a passenger feeling nauseous, or if a strong wilder manages to get past Keel and Jib and hit the harness crew. That sort of thing." The Palpitoad laughed easily. "Why, what'd you think it was?"
"Oh, I don't know. I never learned my berries very well. But thank you, it was delicious. And strangely energizing."
The Palpitoad laughed again, saying, "Why, that's their specialty, Squirtle! 'Need restorin', eat an Oran.' Never heard that one? 'Muscles actin' contrary, you ought to grab a Cheri.' No? Well, I don't like that last one anyway."
Squirtle was eager to change the topic. "From what I understand, Stolt didn't want the ferry to be used, but you and your crew set off anyway?"
The Palitoad's brow furrowed. "Tch, this here ferry's been around longer than that Luxio's been alive. It's the whole reason Karprest was built at all, you know. There's nothing Stolt, or even Mayor Biba could say or decree that would stop us from running the ferry."
Squirtle nodded, respecting their dedication.
"Of course," the Palpitoad continued, "we're not going back any time soon. I'm no fool. Our home port's crazier than a pair of Aipom right now. It'd be asking for a bucket of trouble if we headed back there. Speaking of which, I owe you my thanks. And not just mine, but our whole crew's."
He gestured to Quil with his white tail. "If you and your Cyndaquil friend hadn't distracted Bizz, she could have hit us with that monster Thunder Shock."
"The Elekid?" Squirtle asked.
"Aye, that one. I doubt I'd've been able to get some of my mud in the air in time to block the bolt, or if it would have even done a thing. Didn't even do much against the Razor Leaf. I've gotta practice more." He broke eye contact with Squirtle, and seemed ill at ease. "So, thanks."
Squirtle smiled. He was glad that he managed to help not only Quil, but the whole crew of the Karprest ferry, too. "No problem. We just wanted to board the ferry, so we're glad we have a ferry to board."
The Palpitoad chuckled. "Right you are, Squirtle. Oh, and smart tactic, throwing up that steam. Your friend's got a good head for battling, especially seeing as how he looked terrified to be so close to water."
Squirtle's smile faltered. The idea was his, not Quil's. But what did it matter? It was Quil that protected them from most of the attacks, in the end.
"Yes, Quil's quite the Cyndaquil. He's always been a help on our travels."
"Glad to hear it. Call me Tiller, eh? It's what my crew calls me. What's your name?"
"Just Squirtle," he replied, and took a ready stance. I can do this, he thought. It's about time I did the introduction ritual correctly. No falling down, no getting surprised.
As expected, Tiller leaned the top part of his body forward, having no head to speak of. Squirtle prepared to headbutt the hemispheric bulge above Tiller's face, the obvious choice for making a strike. As he jumped to hit his target, the Tiller leaned back and thrust his belly outward. Squirtle was knocked airborne, surprise written over his features, but he still managed to land on two feet.
Tiller thought his fake-out to be hilarious. He was laughing exuberantly, but squeezed out some words. "Oh, Squirtle, I'm sorry, but it's too funny. I get 'em every time!"
Squirtle wanted to feel angry at the trick, but found it difficult to be mad at a Pokémon like Tiller the Palpitoad. He smiled at the infectious laughter. "Good one," he said.
I...guess I passed?
He excused himself to go speak with Quil. As he approached, Squirtle hesitated. How was Quil going to feel about the way Squirtle had acted? Squirtle had done what he had to, and he'd done his best. But Quil might not see it that way. Quil might be furious at the way he'd been talked to, and they way he'd been constantly forced to do something he didn't want to do. It was because of Squirtle's actions that Quil was reduced to his present state.
True, Squirtle had gotten them to the ferry. He had accomplished Quil's goal. The victory felt incomplete though, tarnished by the stress and pain they'd had to experience. Still, Squirtle felt a measure of pride. He'd formulated strategies and generated ideas under pressure. For the most part, they had worked out well, but he had a long way to go yet before he could call himself a tactician of any merit.
Squirtle took a deep breath, and took a seat next to Quil. The Cyndaquil did not respond. His snout was buried in the short fur of his flank, and his forelimbs covered his face.
"Hey, Quil. Are you doing alright?"
Quil stirred. He peeked at Squirtle over his forelimb, somehow seeing even with his eye scrunched up.
"How close are we to the other side?" Quil asked. His voice was tightly controlled. Squirtle could detect nothing of his emotional state, in his voice anyway.
Looking out over the bow of the ferry, the opposite bank was still distant. The small bay they had departed from was much closer.
"Not very close, Quil, sorry. Twenty minutes, maybe?"
"Okay. Let's talk then. Once we get to dry land. Please."
How could Squirtle not feel guilty with a response like that? The calmness of the words sounded forced. Quil was obviously traumatized to some degree, but he must be trying to keep it all to himself. To relax himself? To not worry Squirtle? Because he had used up all of his emotional energy? Whatever the reason, Squirtle was responsible.
Again, he reminded himself that they were safe and sound because of him. His plans, his quick reactions, his courage. Squirtle had no logical reason to feel guilty. That was that.
The guilt wouldn't go away though.
He sidled over to Quil, and put his arms around him, avoiding the fire. Squirtle closed his eyes and squeezed, trying to convey his support. Quil didn't want to talk. He wanted to recuperate. Maybe this would help the process along.
The moment passed. He released his hold on Quil's warm fur.
I hope that hug helped you as much as it helped me.
The Karp river was beautiful in its purity. Its scintillating surface stretched from horizon to horizon, upstream to downstream. In the noontide sun, the waters were an inviting blue, and nearly clear when Squirtle gazed through the surface. The river was not sinuous, but almost completely straight. Maybe rivers of a certain width or depth didn't meander like the waterways of Squirtle's fuzzy memories.
Squirtle stood near the bow of the boat, where he could look over the side and admire the Karp. He knew he'd made the right decision to give the world a try as his eyes sparkled with the river's light. To live this new life. With any luck, he'd be grateful for his decision time and time again. Even though what he'd experienced since making the decision was full of hardship, it was better than sitting in Bein's house and racking his brain for solutions to the 'Squirtle problem'. He may have even tried something more drastic to avoid his new life.
Thankfully, his mind was turned from those darker thoughts as the other two passengers on the ferry greeted him.
"Hello there, Squirtle!" The Sunflora greeted him with a motherly tone.
"Hello," the Gloom added in a lackluster male voice. Squirtle had a faint preconception that Gloom were known for their unsightly salivation and hideous odor, but he must have had a false memory, because this Gloom was perfectly hygienic.
"You don't live in Karprest, do you Squirtle?" The Sunflora continued. "I bet I'd remember seeing you around, if you did. So you must be a traveler, with your Cyndaquil friend. Where are you headed?"
"We're going to a volcano. It's called...Iymobenin? Or, maybe it's Iyrobenin? Something like that."
"Mm. We haven't heard of it, have we Orala?" asked the Gloom to the Sunflora, who shook her head firmly. "That place must be far away. Shame you must go so far, or do you like long trips? Can you handle yourself in the wild?"
"Don't scare him, Rutu dear, I'm sure they're well prepared for the journey. Aren't you, Squirtle?"
He wanted to reply with an enthusiastic 'Yes!', but there was no confidence to be found. He said, "I expect we are able enough. Quil's more prepared than me, but we'll find our way."
"Oh, I'm so glad to hear that!" said Orala the Sunflora gaily. Rutu the Gloom made an unconvinced 'hmph' sound.
"Where are you two from?" asked Squirtle politely.
"We were just settling down in Karprest," explained Rutu. "A decent house with a view of the hills to the west. Then that craziness with the Luxio happened, and we decided to leave. Getting out of there was a close thing. Troubling, how close it was. Coincidentally, the ferry was just about to leave, against the Luxio's orders I've heard."
"It's not all bad, though," said Orala. "As long as we have sunshine, we get by no matter where life takes us. There's a lesson in that, Squirtle! Maybe you feel similarly about water, mm?"
Squirtle nodded, glancing at the water. He felt a thrill just imagining diving in, right then and there. Of course he continued the conversation, but he felt distracted.
"And," Orala held up a leaf-hand for emphasis, "we were about to have our first egg."
Rutu's orange petals curled in shock. "Orala! We don't know this Squirtle! Why would-"
"Oh settle down, it's a perfectly natural part of life," said Orala. "Everyone knows about how eggs come to be; it's no secret, Rutu. I just mean to say that we were lucky we got out when we did, since we wouldn't want to raise our baby Sunkern in that environment."
Rutu looked embarrassed enough for the both of them. Squirtle's cheeks warmed as he realized what the fuss was about. Rutu was right. Why was Orala discussing that topic so openly in front of a stranger?
If she was open to it, however, Squirtle would take advantage. He wanted to learn more.
"Uh, how do you know, what er, what species it, the egg, I mean, how do you know what it will be?"
Squirtle's blush deepened. Now he sounded like he himself had just hatched out of an egg. The feeling intensified with the looks of incredulity that both Pokémon shot at him.
"The egg always holds the mother's unevolved form," Rutu said. "Didn't you...is that not common knowledge?"
"I, I, ye-yes, of course. I just, er, I wanted to make sure. Make sure it was true."
Neither made a reply to that. Orala slowly smiled her bright smile, as if she were realizing Squirtle was making a grand joke.
There's my big mouth again, Squirtle thought. At this rate, there'll be a trail of rumors behind me about that 'weird Squirtle'. I have to leave this conversation before I make a bigger fool out of myself.
"I'm gonna hop in the river now. Nice, er, talking with you two." Squirtle felt he needed to add something more, but he didn't know what to say, so he backed up to the side of the ship before the departure grew more awkward.
"Bye," said Orala faintly. Rutu said nothing, his mouth open slightly in confusion.
Squirtle jumped overboard.
With a small splash, the cool water surrounded him. He shut his eyes and floated for a moment, reveling in the glorious feeling of the river. Squirtle relaxed, and his thought processes became clear once more, unclouded by nerves or confusion.
I must not have dealt with Pokémon as much as I thought, if I don't know the basics of breeding. Or, I just forgot that specific knowledge. His body bobbed back to the surface. I wish I knew who I was.
Worries about the events of the morning began trickling into the forefront of his mind, nagging at him, urging him to consider the ramifications of Stolt and the Elekid's unbelievable power. Yet Squirtle pushed the worries away, electing instead to enjoy the sensation of the river. Troubles could wait.
The ferry moved steadily away from him. He knew he could easily keep up, but its speed was still greater than it had seemed on the deck. Following behind the ferry at an easy pace, Squirtle explored the river with his eyes. His vision was perfect, feeling somehow even superior to his vision outside of water.
The Karp was deep! Squirtle figured the river would be deep, because it was so wide, but a couple hundred feet of depth was pushing his previous expectations. Sunlight streamed from directly overhead, piercing to the depths of the river, but was still insufficient to adequately light up the riverbed. The bottom appeared to Squirtle as a silty substrate, tan in color. Greenery sprouted from the riverbed, too, and there was motion down below. The waters were quiet, almost silent.
At this point, Squirtle realized he should be frightened. He knew little about combat, there was no one to protect him, and the river could be host to powerful wild Pokémon eager for a little Squirtle like him to pop in for a dip. The energizing confidence the river lent him was too strong, however. Fear was an emotion for land, for being away from his element. Fear would not touch him here.
Onward he swam, following the mild wake of the ferry. He dove a few feet below the surface to practice total submersion swimming. His tail pushed the water backward by swaying left and right. Reaching forth with his hands, he scooped the water past him, first with his right arm, then with his left. His two legs repeated the motion of alternately grabbing the water and thrusting it back. The motion was much like breaststroke, but too unique to fall under that category. How did he even know how to swim this way?
The Squirtle body. This must be how Squirtle swim. Somehow, the fact that I'm letting it happen isn't bothering me this time. It must be the river that makes me feel this way, like everything's okay. And really, if I'm going to take advantage of being a Water-type in a river, I have to let it happen. I can't try to determine how to swim based on how my body is constructed. It's pointless, because I already know how to swim, if I just let those movement patterns and instincts kick in without interference by me.
For now, I'll let this body guide me in the river. Maybe for battling, too, since the canyon worked out for us. Wait, no, I can't just give up my reasoning! But if I don't, I'll freeze up if I can't think of something, just like in the canyon with the Zigzagoon.
I'll figure it out when the time comes. That's all I can do. I don't know if it's a good sign or a bad sign that I'm going with the flow, but I'll keep it in mind.
The ferry was getting ahead. Squirtle urged himself forward. His tail provided the majority of his speed. Once he really got moving, his hand and foot motions tended to drag, becoming dead weight. He focused on the ferry, and tried to swim even faster. Feeling a nagging urge, he complied. He contracted those strange muscles within his shell, which retracted his arms and legs.
Now, his head cut through the water like the bow of a ship. The water flowed around his streamlined shell, unhampered by arms and legs. His tail powered him forward, and he cut through the water like a knife. He couldn't help but grin. In seconds, he was next to the ferry.
Tiller's voice startled Squirtle. "One and one half degrees, port-side. Good speed down there."
Though his voice came from beyond the surface, on the deck of the ferry, Squirtle still heard him clearly. Evidently he was able to hear sound through the surface barrier perfectly well. Interesting. Tiller had to be commanding the Pokémon of his crew, wherever they might be, since the gobbledegook made no sense to Squirtle.
Something squishy tapped Squirtle's tail. His heart leaped into his throat as his arms and legs shot out. He immediately pulled on the water and dashed away, spinning around to face his assailant. He shouldn't have let his guard down!
A Pokémon twice his size, light blue with an orange belly and cheeks, floated there. The near-black fins adorning its head and the back of its thighs marked it as a Marshtomp. If it decided to attack, it would be a formidable opponent, being an evolved Pokémon. Squirtle was torn between swimming all out to the ferry, or hampering the Marshtomp somehow.
A chortling laugh saturated the water. The Marshtomp held its belly with its flat hands, shaking where it floated.
"Oh ho ho ho, don't worry Squirtle, I'm not wild. Ho ho ho! The way you sped off like that, oh, I got you good! Nice reflexes," and he laughed a bit more.
Now Squirtle recognized him as the Marshtomp from the ferry crew beneath the pavilion that morning. He was the one eager for a battle to test Squirtle's skill level. Squirtle allowed himself to relax.
The Marshtomp's voice sounded almost the same in the water. It was more difficult for Squirtle to tell where the noise was coming from, but he still could, barely. The sound seemed to come from everywhere, as sounds do underwater.
"Hey, swim with me," said the Marshtomp. "I've gotta stick on the ferry. Protect it from any Pokémon lookin' for a fight down here. Not usually a problem, but you never know for sure." Squirtle nodded, and swam next to the Marshtomp using his breaststroke-like movements.
The way the Marshtomp spoke didn't make sense. No bubbles issued from his mouth when he talked, and his voice worked just fine underwater.
"How are you-Whoa!" Squirtle never expected himself to be able to speak underwater like the Marshtomp. "How is this...? I'm not making bubbles, but I'm talking! Aren't I?"
"Heh, you're a strange one, aren't ya Squirtle? Didn't you ever talk to your mama underwater?"
"No, I...I never did. Sorry, I don't have much underwater experience, as strange as that sounds coming from a Squirtle." Examining his voice more closely, he realized the muscles in his throat felt strange as he spoke. He was probably utilizing a slightly different method of speech that worked underwater without expelling air.
Speaking of air, Squirtle was astonished to realize that he'd been effortlessly holding his breath this whole time. Further, there was no urge to breathe. No burning lungs sensation, or darkness dancing around the periphery of his vision. He felt fine, better than ever. He recognized that he could get a new breath of air to refresh his supply, but his lungs were in no rush to receive fresh air.
The smile returned to his face. His new physical capabilities were empowering. Just like after battling the Zigzagoon, Squirtle felt a surge of excitement at knowing how capable he was in the water. The thrill of physical or athletic ability was still foreign to him, so he was reasonably confident that he was not the athletic type before his transformation. In a way, he was glad that his personality was modified in this case, since being a Squirtle with little desire to use his body would be a fairly worthless Squirtle.
"You're lookin' like a hatchling, Squirtle. What's so funny, eh?" The Marshtomp was looking at him with a bemused expression.
Squirtle opened his mouth to reply, but thought better of what he was about to say. It was obvious to the Marshtomp that Squirtle was a novice in the water. There was no way anything he said would convince the Marshtomp otherwise. So why not take advantage of the situation?
"I'll be honest with you, Marshtomp: I've lived almost my entire life away from water."
"Say what now? Ha, no wonder you were askin' about powerful wild 'mon in the river this mornin'! Not used to swimmin', are you?"
"No, not at all. In fact, I've never had a battle underwater," Squirtle said. The Marshtomp radiated surprise, then sympathy. Pity, even.
"Oh, Squirtle, you don't know what you're missin'! I've gotta show you how, as a fellow Wet. We've got some time, so it should be fun, yeah?"
Perfect, thought Squirtle, with genuine pleasure. "That would be very kind of you, Marshtomp."
"Eh, call me Keel. That's what the rest of the crew calls me."
"I'm Squirtle. Just Squirtle. But wait, plea-"
Before Squirtle could warn Keel that he wasn't ready to return an attack underwater, Keel initiated his greeting. His belly swelled up as his head pulled back. Then he opened his mouth and his head shot forward, like a striking Arbok. The water between Squirtle and Keel blurred, becoming a shade more opaque. A split second later, a surge of water struck Squirtle, sending him spinning away. He ended up facing the riverbed, nearly upside-down. It took a moment for him to reorient and face Keel once more.
"Ah, right, you don't know 'bout fightin' underwater. Forgot. My apologies, Squirtle."
Squirtle forced the peeved expression from his face. He couldn't take a deep breath, so he just closed his eyes to recenter himself.
"It's alright," said Squirtle. "So what can you teach me, Keel?"
"Mm. Good question. Never been a teacher before. How 'bout we just start with what I just did. I'll teach you to fire a stream of water. Water Gun, they call it. You know the one, don't ya?"
Squirtle nodded, beginning to feel both excited and discouraged: the feeling of dreaming big, but then doubting one's abilities to achieve anything close. The most he knew how to do was Tackle someone. Would he even be able to shoot water? The innate capabilities of the Squirtle species only stretched so far. Then again, if he could learn this technique, he'd more than double his combat effectiveness. He would have a ranged attack, an elemental attack, and a more powerful attack all in one fell swoop.
"Right, uh, let's start," said Keel.
"You can learn to teach while I learn to Water Gun," Squirtle said, trying to make Keel feel more at ease.
"Heh, very funny. Okay. Open your mouth, and make your lips as close to an 'O' shape as you can. Like you're blowin' bubble rings."
Squirtle did so.
"Now, I know you're used to makin' water and just squirtin' it at somethin'. But underwater, there's no need to draw water from your body – your Pool, I've heard it called. You just have to push the water that's already in front of your mouth. So use those same muscles, that same process, but skip the part where you pull water from your body into your mouth."
Squirtle did not find the lecture very helpful, because unbeknownst to the Marshtomp, he had never executed a Water Gun, even on land. Squirtle did not know how to push the water.
First, he tried collapsing his cheeks to push the water. Nothing happened.
Next, he tried pushing with his lungs. Bubbles leaked out of his mouth as he exhaled.
Then, he tried squirting the water, as if he were spitting out a foul beverage. He felt the water in front of his mouth swirl about, harmlessly. He could not generate enough force.
"I must be doing it wrong, Keel."
"What?" Keel was confounded at Squirtle's lack of progress. "You just pretend you're shootin' water on land, basically. Don't tell me you've never done a Water Gun on land?"
Squirtle chose not to reply to that. He recognized a need for fresh air creeping on him. The bubbles he had exhaled were precious indeed.
"I'm going to grab some air, be right back," said Squirtle as he swam upward to the surface. Keel nodded.
I have to learn this. I've chosen to give everything I've got to this life. Any respectable Squirtle will know this technique, so I'm going to learn it. I'll be able to help Quil better, too. Learning this technique is the only option. But nothing's working!
Poking his head out of the river, Squirtle could see the opposite river bank coming close. They were a few minutes away now. He took a full breath, and nose dived by raising his legs and tail above his shell.
Approaching the Marshtomp once more, a frightening thought flitted through his awareness. If the Marshtomp was a wild Pokémon, Squirtle would stand no chance. Keel could out-swim him to the deck if he tried to escape. And Squirtle had no chance to match Keel in an aquatic battle. His only chance would be to do what he had done against the Zigzagoon, and try to forget about his tactics. He had to let his survival instincts take hold, and hope they brought with them innate abilities that no amount of thinking would unlock.
A solution to the Water Gun training began to unfold in his head.
"Keel, I thought of a way I may be able to learn this," Squirtle said as he matched Keel's pace. "This may sound strange to you, but I have to see you as an enemy. That way I can try to scare myself, and not think so hard about what I'm doing. Does that make sense?"
"Yeah, good idea Squirtle! We can try that. You ready?"
After swimming a bit farther from Keel, Squirtle nodded.
The Marshtomp's face became hard with focus, and his skin darkened in color. With a spin, mud was flung from his body to obscure the pristine waters. The surge of mud struck Squirtle and sent him tumbling away. Now completely disoriented by the muddy water, the courage that being in the water gave him wavered. Squirtle did not need to trick himself in order to feel scared, now. He could see neither the surface nor the distant riverbed.
This is it. When he comes, I need to push him back. Don't think. Just react.
Squirtle rotated in place, scanning for an attack from Keel. He didn't have to wait long before the Marshtomp appeared in the haze, swimming swiftly toward him. Squirtle tensed, enabling a quick reaction.
A tingling, an itch, a need arose in the back of his mouth, behind his throat. Squirtle squeezed muscles in that area, which reflexively triggered his mouth contracting into an 'O' shape. He felt pressure in his mouth as water issued into it from within.
Then, immediately after, his head snapped toward Keel and he squeezed muscles inside his body, driving a stream of pressure out of his mouth. The stream was shaped by his mouth, resulting in a messy but linear current flowing into Keel. The mud swirled around the current, blurring from the flow. The sensation was like squeezing a sponge, except the sponge somehow kept refilling as it expelled water. Perhaps the feeling was closer to opening the valve to a hose.
The pressure drove Squirtle backward even as it plowed into Keel. Because his body was beneath his head, but Keel was in front of him, the force pushed Squirtle's head back. He rotated away, cursing his foolish body positioning. In less than a second, Keel was out of his line of sight. He relaxed the pressure, ending the stream.
"Good, good!" Keel exclaimed, stopping his assault. "That tickled, but it's a start, yeah?"
Squirtle was elated as he came back to himself. This was the second time he had outwitted his own wits during a combat situation in order to improve. Now that he knew how the move felt, he was confident he could replicate it. Maybe not under pressure just yet, but he could practice.
"All right! I think I drew water from my body by accident, but I still made the stream!"
"Heh, that's an ordinary Water Gun you just did, Squirtle. So my job isn't done yet. I gotta teach you about fighting underwater. It's only a little bit quicker if you shoot one off without squeezin' water into your mouth first, but it can be worth it."
Squirtle smiled, eager to try again. "Here's another one then. Can you critique me?"
Keel held up a hand. "I've got a better idea. Why not try on a real opponent?"
"A wild Pokémon, you mean? What's wrong with practicing with you?" Squirtle wasn't comfortable with another real battle out of the blue.
"No offense, Squirtle, but I think I'm too practiced at this type of thing to be helpful to you. You have to know how it feels when your Water Gun strikes. How hard they're pushed, how they try to alter their course. You have to make little corrections to your stream. If I just barrel through your stream it's not good practice. You get it?"
Squirtle could not deny the points Keel made. Clearly he knew a great deal about underwater combat.
"Fine, you're right. I haven't seen a wild around though."
The muddy water was clearing up as they spoke. Keel had been squinting through the haze, and now he pointed behind and below Squirtle.
"There, a Magikarp. Knew I'd spot one. You know why it's called Karprest right? Those 'mon are everywhere, and you see a lot of 'em resting in Karprest's bay. Most aren't the brightest, but I've met a couple goodies. Let's pay it a visit, yeah?"
Squirtle followed behind the enthusiastic Marshtomp. On one hand, he was excited to improve. On the other, the Magikarp would surely fight back. The territorial urges, along with the other reasons Quil had given the previous day would compel it to defend itself. If he were the Magikarp, he would not fight back, since Keel would be there too. But instincts overrode reason in most wild Pokémon during a dangerous situation, from what he understood.
The Magikarp stopped its journey upon noticing the two approach, but its vacant expression did not change. It swam back and forth, keeping first its left eye on the pair and then its right eye.
A flash of memory struck Squirtle. For a second, he was back in the rocky canyon where he had fought the Zigzagoon. Only this time, he imagined himself as the Zigzagoon approaching the Squirtle and Cyndaquil with hostile intent. He saw the fear in the Squirtle's eyes through the Zigzagoon's perspective. The uncertainty of what was going to happen to him, the desire to avoid a confrontation. The memory faded, the rock walls becoming open water, and the Squirtle of memory becoming the Magikarp before him.
The situation was not all that different. Squirtle stopped his advance.
The Magikarp, though, was inclined to fight. Instead of swimming back and forth, its body now snaked toward Squirtle and Keel.
"Fire one off!" Keel said as he waded behind Squirtle.
He could worry about morality later. Time to attack, or be attacked.
Squirtle rotated his lower body so that his head was between the Magikarp and the rest of his body. Then he focused on remembering the feeling of those inner muscles contracting, the way it felt when he generated a stream from the pressure of his body. He shaped his mouth into a circle and squeezed those 'water pressure' muscles.
His aim was a bit off, this time. Squirtle saw his stream upset the water off to the Magikarp's left. Quickly, he turned his head ever so slightly, allowing the stream to collide with the Magikarp. Its body actually inflated slightly as the current went into its gaping mouth. The Magikarp flailed its pectoral fins at the stream, as if trying to splash it away, but there was no effect. Helpless before the attack, it was pushed harshly backward about ten feet.
"Yeah, now you've got it!" Keel cheered from the sidelines.
The poor thing is really weak. And here it comes again, the fool.
The Magikarp swam mindlessly toward the Squirtle for another attack. It seemed like it had plenty of energy, so Squirtle wasted no time in using another Water Gun.
This time Squirtle tried to hold the attack for as long as he could. As the Magikarp was jostled by the pressure, Squirtle made tiny corrections to his head angle and mouth shape to keep the stream on his opponent. He found that even his tongue position could change the direction and power of the flow. Apparently there was much to learn before he could reliably keep a full-power Water Gun on his opponent.
The force pushed Squirtle back, away from the Magikarp. He steered with his arms, legs, and tail with some success. His head was still in a good position to aim at the Magikarp by the time the stream failed. Squirtle could only sustain the move for about three seconds. His muscles felt shaky, but Squirtle knew that they'd be strong in no time. He'd just never used them before.
The Magikarp lost interest in the fight. It back-paddled with its pectoral fins for a while before turning tail and swimming away. Squirtle could see that the Magikarp did not look too tired out, so he was grateful that the battle had not been very taxing on either of them.
Squirtle turned to Keel, with no small amount of pride. The Marshtomp was swimming a loop of joy.
"That was great! You're a natural! You should be, since you're a Squirtle and all." He laughed, and Squirtle joined in.
"You'll get the hang of aiming with your tongue and lips the more you practice. And the stamina to keep the stream going will come in time. So keep practicing, and get better!"
"Can do!"
"And you even picked up on how important body positioning is. You gotta keep in mind how your head's gonna rotate away, and how your route will be affected when your stream pushes you away."
Squirtle nodded. "Got it. Thank you, Keel; I really am grateful for this little training session."
Keel grinned proudly, but spoke humbly. "Hey, I practically owed it to you, from one Wet to another. We've gotta look out for each other, yeah?"
Squirtle agreed with a smile of his own, beginning to feel the kinship that Keel suggested.
Keel looked about for a moment, suddenly alert. His eyes locked on the ferry, now a fair distance away. It was almost invisible at that distance, despite the clarity of the Karp's waters.
"Yagh! The ferry, I forgot all about it! We're gettin' back there quick; I'm still on lower defense duty!"
Together, the two Water Pokémon swam through the quiet Karp river and back to the ferry.