Chapter Text
Every family vacation to Lilycove is another chance for young Wallace to sneak out to the beach. Between seven and midnight, most of the beachgoers clear out-- no more umbrellas, no chairs, just him and the moon and the open sea. Mingling is for daylight. Night is for reflection.
Slipping off his shoes, Wallace leaves them next to the base of the lighthouse. Shallow water that pools between creases of sand splishes and splashes beneath his toes. He rolls his pants up almost to his knees, breathing the starlit ocean breeze deep into his chest. This isn’t Sootopolis, sure, but no matter where the ocean is, it’s a second home.
“Is anyone there?”
Wallace draws in a sharp breath. His hand withdraws, legs stiffen. The coast is empty far as he can see, but…
“Help!”
Water slaps against his heels as he runs toward the sound. Off he goes down the shore, jumping over rocks and crunching already broken shells under calluses, eyes darting across the beach to find the voice--
“Over here!”
Tripping and almost eating a mouthful of sand, Wallace stops and whips around. There’s a boy against the rocks, right next to that old cave nobody’s gone in for years (or shouldn’t). In front of him… a Krabby, waving its claws.
“It’s just a Krabby!” Wallace calls, cupping his hands together. “Walk around it! You’ll be fine!”
“No, I-I left my Pokemon at the house,” he yells, “can you just-- could you please do something?!”
“Can’t you swim? Jump in and swim around it!”
“I never-- ack!” The boy’s knees buckle as the Krabby screeches and makes pinching motions, ready to lunge. He must’ve really bothered it somehow. “I don’t know how!”
Wallace sighs loudly, fishing through his pockets. “Hold on!”
Come on, come on… there!
Out comes Feebas with a flick of the wrist and a burst of bubbles. She swims close to the Krabby and its poor victim, ready to defend. Wallace waves his arm boldly, commanding presence and authority. “Feebas, Tackle!”
She shoots, she scores -- Feebas launches her little brown body into the Krabby’s side, sending it reeling away from the boy… but now she’s landlocked, flopping in the sand. It’s sad to watch, and Wallace grabs both sides of his head with a shriek of frustration. “Damn it -- you, just jump in the water! Jump, and I’ll get you! Go!”
“What?! I can’t, I…”
The Krabby starts skittering back over to its prey, furiously pinching its claws. One look between Wallace’s expression and the approaching beast is all he needs -- the boy runs and leaps into the ocean, his ragged gasp audible before the splash.
Time stops for Wallace beneath the waves; the universe cleaves itself in two, water and shore becoming separate worlds. He’s thankful now especially for the blood of Sootopolitans before him running like a river through his veins. Everything ebbs and sways between the dark tides, but he focuses, finds his way through the reeds that grab at his ankles. An inexperienced swimmer would lose their way and sink like a stone.
Reaching out to his rippling shadow, Wallace’s arms close around the boy’s waist, and he pulls them both ashore.
“Are you alright?”
Coughing… more coughing. Wallace waits patiently, sitting next to him in the sand, making no effort to steady him or lift him. “Start breathing again, first. Don’t rush.”
“Yes… I’m fine.” He groans, trying (and failing) to sit up. Now he’s shivering. “Thank you,” his teeth chatter, “very much.”
“You’re welcome. But,” Wallace laughs a little, exhaling, “what did you do to bother that Krabby?”
He pushes himself upright suddenly, patting his soaked jacket, his sides. “Oh no, it better be…”
“What?” Wallace’s brow scrunches.
“Thank goodness,” he breathes, reaching into a pocket and pulling out a glimmering, perfectly round rock. Joy and relief flood his expression, and for a second, Wallace forgets he just rescued this boy from certain death. “This -- I took this. I guess Krabby don’t take kindly to trespassers in their territory.”
“You reached into its den and took that?” Wallace’s brow raises. He can’t help an incredulous snort. “It could’ve taken your hand!”
“I didn’t think they’d be here when the tide is so high. I miscalculated,” he sighs, “but it’s fine. Thanks for helping me, really.”
A miscalculation… there’s something funny about that, Wallace muses. Why bother trying to predict the movement of something you can see and feel firsthand? Is there any worth in speculation, when the sea itself is unpredictable by nature? Someone so guarded and hypervigilant is better off staying home.
Maybe that’s why he can’t swim.
Pushing off from the ground, the boy stands, and then, by some miracle, has energy left in him to offer Wallace a hand to do the same. Humored, he takes it.
“I don’t know who you are,” Wallace chides, “but risking your limbs for a rock is… it’s something. Maybe you should make learning to swim a priority, too. Just a thought.”
“Sure… well, I’m Steven. It’s nice to meet you, even if,” he clears his throat slightly, averting his eyes. “It would be nicer if it went differently. I apologize.”
“Wallace.” He smiles. If his intuition is right (and it always is), someone seems a bit upset. No need for that. “Don’t worry -- let’s just start over.” Holding two ends of his drenched shirt, he pretends to curtsy. “Hello, Mr. Steven. My name is Wallace. What are you doing on the beach so late, this evening?”
“Oh. Then hello to you, too.” Laughing, Steven holds his marble-like treasure up to the moon, showing Wallace how it sparkles. The galaxies above filter through it, highlighting its transparent, pale blue form with streaks of golden amber in the center. Looking closer, Wallace swears he sees something glowing from the dash of white at its core. Even if it’s just a rock, he must admit it’s truly enchanting.
“I guess,” Steven says, “I’m just looking for something beautiful.”