The sun hung low in the sky, sinking behind the trees that surrounded the village and reflecting off the surface of the lake. Jonas glanced up at the orange sky, unsure of how much time was left. Feeling a sense of urgency, he paddled faster, guiding their boat to the center of the lake.
Many of the fishermen had already left the waters, and celebratory shouts occasionally rose from the banks where measurements were being taken. There were others who had left the waters with defeated groans as the pokémon they were after broke free from their pokéballs. Still, some of the old timers patiently drifted about, waiting for a chance to snag a winner. A swanna glided across the water, occasionally dipping its head below the surface.
“Stop us here, Jonas,” Silas whispered. He cast out his line with a practiced flicked of the wrist, the hook soaring away, disappearing into the water with a plop! Jonas followed suit, his cast landing several yards behind Silas’s. For a while, they sat in the quiet, the only sounds the wind in the trees and the cries of wild ducklett in the distance.
Suddenly, Silas’s rod bent almost in half, nearly buckling under the weight of whatever was on the line.
“I’ve got a fighter here, boy! Get ready!” he growled through gritted teeth.
His weathered hands gripped the rod, knuckles white with strain as he battled with the unseen force beneath the water’s surface. Sweat beaded on his forehead despite the cool breeze that swept across the lake, and with each pull, the muscles in his arms strained. His back arched as leaned back against the force of the fish.
“I’m not losing you!” he grunted, a mixture of determination and frustration. He planted his feet firmly on the bottom of the rocking boat, bracing against the pull of the line. Jonas watched in awe at the old man’s battle with the unseen pokémon. Silas leaned back with all of his might, fighting desperately to keep the line from snapping. The rod bent almost to the point of breaking, the tip dipping close to the water.
“Be careful, Silas!” Jonas shouted reaching out his hand to steady himself against the boat, which rocked turbulently on the churning lake. Silas gritted his teeth, breathing hard.
And then, with a sudden surge of power, the fish broke through the surface in a spectacular display of raw strength. A colossal seaking, its massive orange form shimmering in the sunlight, soared into the air before crashing back down with a thunderous splash. The force of its impact sent a wave crashing against the boat, drenching the three occupants, and causing it to pitch and sway on the surface. The seaking thrashed violently, swimming away from the boat.
“Keep her steady!” Silas roared, refusing to surrender even an inch of line.
Suddenly, the seaking turned, charging straight for the boat, its massive jaws opening wide.
“Flint, do something!” Jonas shouted while trying to steady the boat, paddle in hand.
Flint barked deeply, letting loose a searing ember, the flames licking across the seaking’s thick scales and halting its attack momentarily. It shook its massive horned head, thick skin steaming. The colossal fish lowered its head, its horn beginning to glow.
“Not so fast! You’re coming back home, Finley! Go, pokéball!” Silas shouted, chucking a pokéball just before the attack made contact with their vessel. The seaking disappeared in a flash, and the ball fell to the surface with a plop. Flint whined, watching as the ball twitched on the water.
The next seconds were an eternity. Jonas held his breath, staring at the floating red and brown ball, hoping with everything in him that it would work. The ball exploded, a flash of white momentarily blinding Jonas, and the seaking fell into the water again, shockwaves rippling through the water.
“No!” Silas shouted, watching his dream falling apart, so close, yet just out of reach.
“It isn’t over yet, Silas!’ Jonas shouted. “Flint hit him with another ember.”
The soaked growlithe sputtered, then spewed a weak shower of sparks that burst against the seaking, sizzling. Jonas followed up the attack, loosing the blue lure ball from his hand. The seaking disappeared in another flash, and the ball landed on the surface where it began to rock violently. Flint barked at the trashing sphere until finally, it grew still and let out a soft click.
Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.
***
Back on shore, Jonas smiled at the look of shock on the official’s face when he triumphantly held up the lure ball.
“Well, I’ll be…” the tan man said, “have you finally done it, Silas?”
“No sir,” Silas said, with a shake of his head. “It was the young man. Jonas here is quite the fisherman.”
The official eagerly accepted the ball from Jonas, racing to the massive tank that rested on an industrial-sized scale. As the ball released its captive, a hush fell over the crowd. White light issued forth from the ball, and the tank was nearly filled by the seaking, the water inside splashing over the edges and onto nearby observers. A gasp rose from the crowd, and Jonas heard murmurs of “He’s huge,” and “three times the size of mine.” The needle swung rapidly around the dial, once? Twice? Jonas couldn’t be sure.
“S… Si…” the official stuttered for a moment before finally managing, “six hundred forty-three pounds! Unbelievable! And it looks to be… ten feet long!” He added, eyeballing the measurement. “Several times the size of a normal seaking! I think the winner is quite clear! For catching the King of the Lake, the winner of the eighty-third Pisces Village fishing tournament is Jonas Brooks!”
Cheers and applause erupted from the crowd as Silas clapped Jonas firmly on the shoulder, beaming with pride. The official returned the seaking to its pokéball, and passed it back to Jonas, who held it aloft, letting the cheers of the crowd wash over him like a wave.
Later, Jonas sat with Silas on the same bench where their journey had begun, Flint dozing on the grass nearby. Jonas stared at the lure ball in his hand as Silas counted the prize money, which they had decided to split evenly between themselves.
“Four thousand six hundred eighty-four… Four thousand six hundred eighty-five…” Silas said aloud, intently focused on the bills arranged in stacks beside him.
“Silas, I think this belongs to you,” Jonas said abruptly, holding Finley’s ball toward the older man. Silas stopped counting, turning toward Jonas with a pained expression on his face.
“Jonas….,” he started, laying aside the money.
“I know I’m the one who caught him,” Jonas interrupted, “but I wouldn’t have even been on that lake if it weren’t for you! And besides, Finley is your friend, not mine. You deserve to have him by your side. I won’t take no for an answer.”
Silas stared at Jonas for a moment, then started to laugh. It was a long laugh, and loud, echoing across the lake. When he finally spoke, Jonas detected a hint a relief, and of gratitude.
“Boy, I’ve only known you for a day, but that’s by far the most spirit you’ve shown. Now, don’t you fret none. I wouldn’t refuse your offer for the world. Finley is staying put, you can count on that,” he said, taking the offered ball. He continued, “I’ve got something for you as well.”
Silas handed Jonas a long wooden tube which, upon closer inspection, had a hinged lid. Opening the lid, Jonas saw the parts of a fishing rod, broken down to fit inside the case.
“It ain’t much, just that old rod you used to land old Finley. But I think it’s given us both some good luck, wouldn’t you say?”
“Silas, I can’t…”
“Now, it’s my turn to insist. You’ve proven quite capable. I figure between this money and that rod, you’ll be able to feed yourself and your pokémon, one way or another. ‘Sides, I don’t have much need for it. Reckon I’m gonna give it up, myself. Hang up the rod, as it were. Finley and I got some catching up to do.”
“Thanks, Silas,” Jonas smiled.
“Sure thing,” Silas started before growing solemn. “Your partnership with Flint is something special, son. Don’t you ever forget it. He’ll stick by your side through anything. Promise me you’ll do the same for him.”
Jonas nodded, the weight of the promise settling on his shoulders. He stood, tucking the rod and his share of the prize money into his rucksack.
“Speaking of, I think it’s time for us to go. Right, Flint?” Flint drowsily ruffed, rising to his feet and stretching.
“Thank you, Jonas,” Silas said, standing to firmly grasp Jonas’s hand. “Take care, both of you.”
“You too. Both of you,” Jonas replied with a smile, giving Silas’s hand a shake. He turned from the square, and found his way along the path away from Pisces Village, walking briskly until he came to the sign.
He squatted down to give Flint a reassuring pat, before stepping back onto the main thoroughfare. Filled with determination, he picked up his pace, repeating over and over in his mind the words on the sign.
Nova City. Five miles.