It doesn't take me more than a couple minutes of breaststroke to realize that there's something I should probably address sooner rather than later- well, actually there's many things that statement could potentially apply to right now, but the one I have in mind is likely the most immediately relevant.
Namely, I should really figure out how to use Ranamon's basic attacks and abilities, before I end up in a situation that might actually require them.
I skirt around another group of fish Digimon, the thought only growing stronger as I do. Much as I'd like to hope that I can avoid ever ending up in a serious fight, that doesn't seem particularly likely. Not all the inhabitants of this version of the Digital World are hostile — in fact, I'd wager the majority usually aren't — but some of them definitely are, and I've got something an inherent disadvantage in that regard, seeing as I'm now part of the group that's been going around ripping up continents. Thankfully, I don't think the average Digimon is aware of precisely who that group is composed of, but it still doesn't exactly behoove me to remain near-clueless about how to defend myself.
...though, if I'm perfectly honest, even were absolutely none of that true, I'd still want to take at least a little time to try this.
I shift my gaze to one side, feeling bizarrely guilty. For all that I don't really want to be Ranamon, she is still a Digimon, with all the fantastical abilities that entails, which is... well, cool. It's probably the biggest upside to all this that I'm currently seeing in fact, and given everything else that comes with it, I've really got to find the positives in my situation where I can.
I stop for a moment to glance up at the tiny island in the distance I noticed earlier. That'll probably work well enough as a practice ground, right? Not that I'm exactly flush for other options here, considering I'm presently out in the middle of the ocean, but-
Nevermind, yeah, that'll do.
Angling myself in the island's rough direction, I make for land.
~ ꕀ ꔛ ꕀ ~
~ ꕀ ꔛ ꕀ ~
...a rather significant length of time later, I've finally just about arrived at the island in question, and have also decided that I officially hate water. Sure, it did a lot of good for me back when I was in a world where biology still had a major say in things, and yeah, I'm technically the warrior of water right now, and am thus perhaps almost obligated to like it for that alone. However, I've discovered that when you wind up having to swim a distance that even triathlon competitors might balk at, for what feels like literal ages, you start rather rapidly despising the element as a whole anyways.
I huff, which exits my mouth as several small bubbles. Thankfully, Ranamon's body seems much less prone to tiring than an average human's — I've little doubt that if I had to swim this long or this far as my normal self, I'd have been exhausted before I even got halfway.
Setting aside my private complaints, I turn my attention back to the island. From above, the land mass at large appears rather empty, but as I approach it from just below the surface, I can see that there's another expansive coral shelf leading up to the shallows, and much like the last one I visited, it's teaming with all sorts of digital life. A good amount of the reef seems to essentially be serving as a hive for a bunch of little pink clam Digimon — Syakomon, or something like that? — along with still more of those coral-like Digimon from earlier. There's also a scattered bunch of Crabmon crawling on the sloping sand below, and a trio of Archelomon paddling around near the shore, though they swim away before I can get particularly close.
Trying not to bother too much of the surrounding sea life with my passing, I slowly swim up into the shallows before standing and making my way up onto shore, thin rivulets of water dripping off me as I walk. The sand is hot beneath my bare feet, but not so much as to burn, and there's a gentle breeze combating the heat of the sun overhead. By all appearances, it's a near perfect day to spend simply relaxing on the beach.
...shame I can't really afford to do that.
Approaching the treeline a little ways inland, I do a quick once over of the area, trying to make sure I won't be at risk of angering any other Digimon by practicing potentially destructive attacks in the equivalent of their backyard. I don't see anyone else up here, and they're not making themselves known, so I think I'm probably alright?
Hoping that's indeed the case, I turn back to the shore and slowly breathe in. Okay, I've got some space now. Let's start with...
...
Er. What attacks does Ranamon even have, again?
Belatedly realizing I hadn't actually thought about that, I wrack my brain for answers, only to come up embarrassingly short. The only one I can even vaguely recall from the show is that energy-sapping rain cloud she used a few times, which I guess is at least something? Though from what little I remember of it, it never really had all that much impact...
I sigh. Still, beggars can't be choosers.
Selecting a small nearby tree as my target, I raise my hands over my head, press my fingers together — which takes me a moment to properly line up, since I can't actually see them in that position — and speak the move's name.
"Draining Rain~"
A tiny gray cloud about six feet across instantly condenses over my fingertips, which swiftly drifts over to the tree in question and proceeds to dispense an equally tiny rainstorm over it. The leaves of the tree rapidly wilt as the water saps the life from them, until the cloud abruptly loses steam, dispersing just as quickly as it formed.
Slightly surprised, I look over the now rather-shriveled tree with an approving gaze. Huh, that was easier than I expected. I didn't even really have to direct the attack, it just sort of naturally went where I wanted it to.
I frown. Do I have to do that pose every time though, or say the name of the attack aloud to use it? Because both of those seem like they'd be more than a little inconvenient in an actual combat situation. I didn't even mean to do the latter, let alone with that lilt to my voice, it just felt... natural, I guess?
Figuring I might as well test it, I adjust my position, switching to holding my hands out in front of me with my fingers splayed apart. Keeping my mouth firmly clamped shut this time, I attempt to will another cloud into existence.
Nothing happens.
I click my tongue. Tch, okay, that's annoying. What about...?
I try once more, keeping my position much the same, but this time grudgingly allow myself to speak the attack's name again, albeit without the oddly airy tone that crept in the first time.
"Draining Rain."
...still nothing.
My frown deepens. Ugh, seriously? Do I really have to do it the exact same way that Ranamon did, every single time? Even in the middle of a potentially fraught battle, I might actually be stuck repeatedly posing like I'm about to be photographed for a magazine spread?
Irritated by the mere idea of that, I press my fingers together just under my chin and all but snarl the attack's name out this time- and miraculously, the rain cloud reappears.
And promptly envelops most of my head.
I cry out and fall backwards while frantically wiping at my face, not wanting to end up like the tree I previously targeted did. Ack-!
I continue frantically scrabbling for another moment or two, before abruptly realizing that I don't actually seem to be in any pain. Dropping my hands, I look around, and realize that despite the way the droplets are sizzling when they hit the sand, they don't seem to be doing anything to me, even with some having gotten directly in my eyes.
Watching as the rest of my own attack runs right off of me, I sigh in quiet relief. Evidently I'm fortunate enough to be immune to my own idiocy... thank goodness.
Grateful that no one was watching that, I stand back up and brush myself off as the cloud I summoned evaporates, having remained utterly stationary for the entire span of its existence. I suppose I forgot to actually think of a target that time — which might actually explain why it chose to simply stick itself to my face instead.
Shaking my head in embarrassed dismay, I refocus. Obvious mistake or not, I might actually be getting somewhere now...
Approximately ten minutes of testing and roughly the same number of desiccated trees later, I'm feeling much more comfortable with this attack, and have reached a few tentative conclusions about it. The most important one being that in order to summon a rain cloud at all, I need to first perform some sort of relatively rapid gesture. Said gesture can be nearly anything, but must ultimately result in at least two of my fingers touching in order for the cloud to form, as it will always do so directly over them, regardless of where my hands or arms are positioned at the time. It's a rather awkward requirement, but so far as I can tell, there's not a lot I can do about it. The restriction seems all but set in stone, likely built into the technique itself.
...thankfully, it also has a rather simple loophole.
I smirk. Turns out, the digits in question don't actually have to be on separate hands — meaning, this prerequisite is technically possible for me to fulfill by literally just snapping my fingers. Granted, that's a bit harder than it used to be, owing to the way these gauntlets all but force my fingers apart, but it's still considerably faster and easier than basically any other option.
I've also confirmed that while calling the attack's name seems to help me focus or spark it, it isn't an absolute requirement either. In fact, it's more just that it feels almost strange not to use it — despite the fact that I've been deliberately trying to stay silent, the words "Draining Rain~" keep threatening to bubble up past my lips anyways. It's a rather annoying compulsion, as calling my attacks would essentially just be giving any theoretical opponents advance notice of what I'm doing, but it at least seems fairly manageable so long as I stay mindful of it. And if I can't... well, I suppose most Digimon do it anyways, so I guess it's not really that big a deal.
That being said...
My smirk disappears, reverting to a more neutral expression. Even if I've figured this out, a single move isn't really enough to universally rely upon, and I still can't remember if Ranamon even has any others. She almost certainly must, since I'm pretty sure even baby Digimon have a bare minimum of two, but if she ever used them in the show, I have absolutely no recollection of what they were.
...I suppose that means I'll just have to work them out myself then. Or, failing that, go by simple trial and error — I assume I'll feel something if I'm on the right track.
Idly drumming my fingers on the surface of my gauntlets, I cross my arms beneath my chest and take a moment to think.
Let's see... Ranamon's teeth are quite sharp, as I've already discovered, so I suppose they could theoretically lend themselves to some manner of offensive use. I kind of doubt she ever bit anyone in the show though, and speaking from my new position as her, I don't feel like I'm really meant for physical, close-up combat. So, perhaps not.
I glance down at one of the gems built into my gauntlets. Do these maybe do anything other than glow in the dark? Based on general Digimon design principles, it seems plausible that they could maybe produce some sort of energy beam, or something along those lines. Though, given these gems are scattered across my entire "outfit", I have no idea how I'd aim something like that, and I imagine if Ranamon actually had an attack that used them, I would remember it.
Frowning, I turn back to the beach, watching a small wave break upon the sand. Or maybe I'm overcomplicating this. On the most basic level, Ranamon is the Legendary Warrior of Water, right? Ergo, she should have a natural affinity for it, and is likely to have at least one or two attacks based around using or manipulating it.
...and, well, you can't get much better access to water than the ocean itself, now can you?
Stepping closer to the gently-lapping tide, I attempt to simply... feel for some sort of connection with it. Some sense, some link, some mental something-or-other that could signify I'm at least in the right mental ballpark. I can't be that far off with this, surely?
I stand there for a minute or two with my eyes closed, searching inwardly to the point that I almost feel I'm in a trance... yet once again, absolutely nothing happens. Other than being Ranamon, I feel perfectly normal right now. So far as I can tell, no additional senses seem to have been included in this package, beyond the ones inherent to my new appendages.
Scowling, I re-open my eyes. This is dumb — I'm essentially trying to exercise a muscle that I've never once used before, not knowing what it feels like or if it even technically exists, so of course I'm not going to be able to "find" it. Besides, the attack I've managed already didn't require me to know or feel out how it actually functioned, it just sort of... happened, once I fulfilled the physical requirements. Why would this one be any different?
Realizing I probably should have been working off this notion from the start, I reach an arm out towards the sea, splaying my fingers apart from each other. Then, as though clutching at the water, I close my hand into a fist and slowly pull it back-
The tide suddenly swells, washing thrice as far up the sand as the previous wave did. A surge of excitement washes through me along with it- only to quickly dissipate as I realize that wasn't nearly strong enough to be an actual attack.
I rest my other hand over my left hip fin, humming thoughtfully. Still, that was a good sign! While I couldn't feel the water itself just now, I could feel the semi-intangible "hold" that I very briefly had over it. I'd wager what I managed there wasn't nearly the extent of what it could have been either — not only was that a rather reserved first attempt, but something about my sway over the water felt strangely limited, restrained in a way that I can't quite articulate.
Maybe if I just...
Walking forward, I dip my feet back into the water proper, wading in until it's back up to my knees. Then, tugging hopefully on that same ethereal connection, I thrust my arms towards the sky.
The surface of the ocean in front of me promptly erupts. Surging upwards like a sudden tsunami, the hundreds of thousands of gallons of water I've inadvertently called upon tower over the shore as an oceanic monolith, looking like the impending wrath of an angry elemental god — at least until I process what I just did, and the resulting shock utterly wrecks my concentration, causing the entire thing to abruptly collapse.
...a large chunk of which proceeds to crash down onto the beach, centered right over where I'm standing.
I yelp in dismay as I once again end up as the first live target of my own move, the water easily knocking my feet out from under me and sweeping me back out to sea. I'm thankfully at no risk of drowning anymore, but the weight of the wave alone threatens to crush me, and by the time I manage to get my head back above the now heaving surface of the ocean, I've been dragged a considerable distance from the shore.
Trying to regain my bearings, I shake myself as I idly tread the suddenly-cloudy water. For as huge of a success as that was, it may have worked a little too well. Depending on how deep I pulled that up from, I may have just disturbed the entire local ecosystem.
I nervously look around at the numerous branches and oddly-shaped leaves now floating on the surface of the sea, forcibly torn from the trees of the tiny island behind me. There's even a humongous red leaf drifting around in the middle of them, and I don't see any red trees around here, meaning I must have somehow dredged that one up from below. Man, I really did overdo it-
The crimson leaf quivers, then suddenly vanishes back beneath the water, leaving me blinking at the now-empty space in confusion.
That... was way too quick to have sunk naturally. Did something just-
The surface of the sea abruptly explodes again, and this time not because of me. I scream and throw myself backwards as a Seadramon at least six stories tall and climbing rises up out of the ocean in front of me, wordlessly roaring at the sky. The motions of its towering body send ripples out through the surrounding water, throwing 10-foot-tall waves in every direction.
And behind it...
Dread overtakes me as I get a better look at the serpentine Digimon's whip-like tail — or, more accurately, the crimson decoration attached to the tip of it. That wasn't a leaf, it was a fin-
Before my thought process can proceed any further, the Seadramon lowers its head and narrows its gaze, glowering down at me with obvious fury.
"Uh-" I stutter. "S-sorry! My bad! No need for-"
The Seadramon screeches in uncaring rage, a massive jet of water already bursting forth from its maw.