Figaro and the Lonely Dojo

Poor Figaro had really gone and done it now. In totally unfamiliar territory, the Captain of the Grand Symphony had wandered off trying to find the nearest town. He hadn’t even brought most of his stuff with him, assuming (and assured) he’d be there and back in no time. Bet it’s just around th’ corner! He thought, cluelessly. Just a li’l more…! He pumped himself up, for the hundredth time. This weary fella had been walking for what seemed like multiple hours now. His legs were killing him, and he was coated in sweat.

But, mercifully enough, relief was indeed around the corner this time — or in this case, downhill from the seemingly deserted plains of this quiet land. Granted, it was not the town he had hoped to spot in the distance, but it was something! A tall, oddly-shaped hut that overlooked a rocky cliff.

The Captain let out a relieved sigh, already slumping a bit in preparation for a proper comfy spot to lay down. “Bet it gets lonely ‘round ‘ere,” he muttered to himself, color finally returning to his face, “so surely they’ll welcome me with open arms! Oh, such a tired traveler! Come in an’ rest ‘ere, drink some soup, of course we can show ye the way ta town…!” Figaro was already running this scenario in his head, rambling to himself as he played out the dialogue of what he’d like to happen once he arrived…

As he walked through the open front doors and peered inside the roomy hut, though, Figaro found no one was around to greet him. “Ahoy!!” He called out in a chipper mood, but no one answered. “…Oy!!” He peeked behind doors and (tiredly) lumbered up onto the second floor, getting a sense of how oddly roomy this place was for an abandoned hut. …No, no, surely it couldn’t be abandoned! “Huff… S…Salutatioooons!!” He beckoned loudly this time, but the silence was louder.

The Captain refused to believe this stroke of luck was in vain! He (eventually) went back down the stairs and paced around, his boots thumping and making the bamboo flooring squeak. It was worn, but held together just fine, much like everything else in this place. The sliding doors, the various tiny plants and greenery scattered about, the big pool in the middl—

There was a big pool in the middle of this hut.

…Figaro called out one last time with a hearty “Helloooo???” before scurrying off to the edge of this mysterious pool. The water was crisp and clean, but also deep enough that it was hard to see the bottom of it in some spots. Before doing anything else, Figaro took a few careful peeks around, then removed his hat and his coat, carefully placing them aside, as well as his tight boots. He let out a relieved sigh as he glared at the rippling surface. It occurred to him that a pool this clean and pretty couldn’t possibly be abandoned — and that definitely kept his spirits high.

“…Don’t mind if I do!” He whispered, then cupped a bit of water and rubbed it against his face. He wiped the sweat off eagerly, then shook the droplets off his face like a feral creature, his small ponytail flapping all around. It was… a bit cold, but that was a good thing! The refreshing feeling hit him real good, enough to scoop up another bit of water and sip it this time. …Phew, no chemicals! Not that it would’ve stopped him much with how thirsty he had gotten. He took quite a few more sips, laid out by the pool in a curious position and lightly swaying his legs.

Oof, his aching legs…

Figaro soon got another idea. Making sure, once again, that he wasn’t being spied on or anything, he sat back up and started to remove his socks. Then, carefully, he lowered his bare feet onto the brisk water. “Hooough, much better…!!” He squeaked out, the relief washing over him like… well, a splash of cool water. He leaned back and took slow breaths, finally given a chance to soothe his sore body — or at least part of it — and take a much-needed break. As he felt a few errant bubbles tickle against his lower legs, his mind began to clear, and his thoughts wandered, much in the way he had wandered to end up here, all on his own…

A much bigger burst of bubbles grazed his legs. “Eep!!” Figaro felt a shiver, and he quickly pulled his legs out of the water, staring at the burbling froth that had formed on the pool’s surface. They showed up pretty consistently, a steady stream of them sometimes interrupted by noisy clouds that popped above the water. …Was there someone down there?!

“A… A-Ahoy????” He called out nervously, right up against the surface, even as popped bubbles sprinkled his face with drops of water.

Before he could dunk his head in and try to look closer — or let out a burbling “Ablhbloogbloyblbl!!” — a pair of dark grey paws lunged from beyond the surface, gripping the pool’s edge. A snout pierced the surface, too, soon followed by a sharp growl as this creature’s face rested on the creaking floor. Figaro had only caught a glimpse of all this as he had jumped what felt like twenty feet in the air from the shock, landing on his butt with a noisy thud and crawling out of reach of this foul beast. “S-S-Sorry I got in your pool! And also drank from it!! And put my feet in it—!!”

The “foul beast” in question did not seem in the mood to chase after Figaro. Instead, whoever this was seemed to be gasping for air, shakily trying to lift himself out of the pool, slumped and sopping wet like an old rug that got left out in the rain.

Something about this compelled Fig to intervene. He anxiously shifted and tiptoed forward, getting just close enough to grab ahold of this creature’s arm and help him out of the water. “I got ya, lad!” He assured him. Once he had taken a closer look, he could tell this was a Lucario, and a rather old one too.

Suddenly, as he started to get his energy back, the Lucario snarled and shoved Figaro off, getting into what sure seemed like a fighting stance, still panting. Fig backed off, and although he might’ve had a chance to flee if he wanted, he instead stayed put, also getting into a bit of a nervous stance. Well, now what? Is there a spell that’s good for Lucarios? Did he even remember to bring a weapon for this? (He did not.) The Captain stood his ground regardless of how tense the situation had become…

…While the Lucario slowed his breaths and bared his fangs. A faint glow began to emanate from him, a shade of blue darker and much more intense than the grizzled, faded fur along his body. His sharp orange eyes cast a bright shine, a piercing stare aimed directly at the Captain.

This human… The Lucario focused his mind. …is scared, yet determined. He narrowed his sight, everything beyond Figaro fading into a dark blur. The aura around and between the two was flowing, less like a river and more like a dense fog. The Lucario’s connection with it had become a little fragile over the years, but still, he felt it strongly.

And his heart. The Lucario closed his eyes, and instead looked closer with his mind. His heart is… A hum passed through his ears; he heard it sing. And a warmth spread across him; he felt its brush as it waved through and past him. He knew all too well what an aura like this meant.

Slowly, the Lucario lowered himself, shaking a bit as he sat back down and let out a rugged breath. He opened his eyes again, very serious, staring directly at Figaro still. With a soft handwave, he beckoned him closer.

Although poor Fig had no idea what to think of this, he had a funny feeling about this Pokemon. As he calmed his nerves and approached the Lucario carefully, he managed to get a better look at his physique. He was worn, tired, yet clearly stronger than him. The spikes on his right paw and his chest were cracked. Long-healed scars decorated his faded, dripping body; only a pair looked intentional (the two surgery scars on his chest), while the rest did not (the gashes along his back and his left eye). In a less tense scenario, he might’ve been tempted to ask for permission to feel them. …In a normal way.

For now, he merely walked right up to him, wondering what was the deal with this old man. “Uh… Ahoy…?” He greeted him with a meek smile and a wave, still feeling his heart thumping against his chest from the big scare.

The old one extended his wet, soft paw out, just inches away from Fig. He spoke. “…Rio. Name’s Rio.” He was asking for a handshake.

Figaro seemed to light back up in an instant. His nerves went poof and a big smile covered his face, cheeks all red. “I’m Figaro! Captain Figaro!! Captain of the Grand Symphony!! Figaro!!!” He gripped Rio’s paw tight and shook it happily; a little more oomph into it and he might’ve pulled something. “Oh, I’m just glad I found a friendly face ‘round these parts, lad! I couldn’t find my way ‘ere! Any longer an’ I might’ve conked out on th’ plains!”

Rio was being jostled and shaken, serious as ever but certainly less tense than he was just a minute ago. “You seem quite sore indeed.”

“Huh? Ahaha, you notice that just by lookin’ at me, don’tcha?” Figaro chuckled, sitting down next to him and letting out an exhausted “Phew…”

“Call it an old man’s intuition. And ah, you mentioned you’re a Captain, huh…” Rio inquired with a gruff, deep voice, the kind that makes you want to sit down and just listen. “I figured I was sensing something like that. You…” You have a good heart, Rio thought, but he chose not to say it out loud. “You probably ended up here for a reason, even if you think you’re just lost. Fate has a sense of humor sometimes.”

“Fate? Well, I dunno much about fate m’self,” Figaro went on, “But I’ll take what I can get! But also, uh…” Something seemed quite stuck on his mind this whole time, for obvious reasons. “What were ye doing down there?? Dived too deep, got stuck on somethin’? Lost yer keys?”

“Meditating.” Rio answered casually, like it was the most normal thing to do below several feet of water.

“Down there?!” He blurted out, raising his eyebrows so high they might’ve flown off his face. “But the whole point is ‘ta be calm and relaxed an’ everythin’, right? If I was meditatin’ like that I’d just go ‘BGBRGBFGRBL’ two minutes in and meditatin’s over!!”

“Meditation. Training. Exercise. Challenge. Call it however you want,” Rio explained. “The point is all the same: I am steeling my mind and body.”

“…I’ll take yer word for it, lad!” Figaro said. “I could use some trainin’ maself.” He tapped his soft tummy through his shirt a couple times, jiggling it slightly; he had gotten a bit too pudgy down there as of late, although he did feel a bit hungry.

Rio’s ears perked. Not for the audible tummy-tapping, but because of what Figaro said. “…I see. Train with me, then. Just for today.”

“Wuh?” Figaro puffed up like a spooked pet. “A-And do we have ‘ta be down over yonder for it??”

“Yes, that’s the point.” Rio, again, said it in such a casual way for something so unusual to Fig. “It’s a test of your inner focus. Find the balance between mind and body, and keep it steady. I know it may be too much for you right now, but—”

“I’ll try it!!” Fig jumped back onto his feet, his pupils glowing like stars. Although his energy had not fully returned to him, the chance to train with a wise, trustworthy Pokemon, a Lucario no less, tickled his brain quite fiercely. Besides, it should be relaxing enough to count as a little more rest… “You just go an’ guide me through it an’ I’ll do my best, Rio!” He seemed downright giddy about it now.

“…You hold onto that confidence,” Rio said to him, with an amused chuckle that showed a bit of fang. “You’ll need it.”

Rio had already gotten back into the pool by the time Figaro was ready. He took off a couple more layers of clothing until all he was wearing was a thin shirt and his undies, decorated with little red hearts. These would have to be warmed and dried before he goes wandering off again, and hopefully nothing would catch on fire this time. In any case, Figaro lowered himself onto the pool, the cool temperature causing him to let out a little shiver along his back.

…The point of this exercise was to be relaxed, sure, but Figaro, for whatever reason, was anything but. “A-And ya do this how often exactly, lad??” He may have been on the shallow end of this pool, but it was still quite a bit deeper than what he was used to. He kept ogling the bottom of it and trying to get a sense of how far it went without actually dunking his head in…

“Every other day,” the deep, quiet voice beside him said. Rio could obviously tell Fig wasn’t in great condition for this right now, so he decided to go a little easy on him. Some pointers would help, too.

“Slow breaths.” Rio swam closer to Figaro and pressed a soft paw against his wet chest. “You’re too worked up still. Come on… In. Out.”

There was quite a variety of thoughts ricocheting against the walls in Figaro’s brain. The most pressing ones, though, had to be let out. “W-Woah there… Soft…!” Although it wasn’t exactly Rio’s intention, Fig relaxed pretty quickly when he felt that paw touching him. It was way softer than expected, like a squishy cushion firmly landing square on his chest. He relaxed in an instant.

More importantly, the Captain did keep his breaths in check as Rio asked. He tilted his head back and let the air through him slowly while treading water, his li’l ponytail floating on the surface…

“Slower.” Rio encouraged him further; he was keeping track of Figaro’s heartbeat, too, feeling its pace lower as the nerves faded.

Figaro kept following along. His chest puffed up then deflated at a downright glacial pace, and he kept a grip on the pool’s edge, making extra sure to avoid sinking when those lungs were emptied. He was calm enough to even close his eyes, the afternoon sun just barely catching a glimpse of him from behind the hut’s shade.

Rio synced his breaths with Fig’s as well as he could. “…In. …Out. Slower still.”

“…A-Any slower an’ I won't be breathin', lad!” Fig chuckled a bit, his mind tossed right back into reality. But hey, at least this worked; Figaro had eased into the mindset of a proper meditator, at least for a moment. Rio could sense it.

He was ready.

“…Take one deep breath and hold it,” Rio ordered him. “Don’t think about it. Don’t force it. Just a deep breath and we go under together.”

“Hoo, okay, okay…!” Figaro couldn’t help but pump himself up, although he didn’t quite need it at this point. “I’m trusting ya on this one, Rio! Don’t ye go pokin’ or ticklin’ me or somethin’, haha!”

Rio didn’t bounce any jokes back. He inhaled sharply, just a few seconds’ worth of drawing in air, before sinking below the surface to start the dive down.

Figaro was, at least for a moment, alone again, which is probably the worst time for a very important question to pop into his mind. “Uhhh, hey wait! Rio!” He called out from above, but the Lucario’s figure seemed to grow blurrier and more distant. “How long are we stickin’ down there for?? I’m not an expert or anythin’, lad!! Oh dear…” Before he could let any more nerves or worries flush in, Figaro took deep breaths. Okay, yer built for this, Fig, he pumped himself up some more. It’s just gonna be a li’l bit, it’s just trainin’, this cool old Lucario guy knows what he’s doin’, nothin’ bad’s gonna happen, down ‘ere… …This went on for a while.

Once he had piled up the motivation in his mind enough, Figaro went for it. He took a deeeep, long breath, puffing up his chest as much as he could, before he let go of the pool’s edge and kicked his way to the bottom.

That blurry, Lucario-esque figure he had seen swimming away earlier steadily became more focused. There must’ve been a good dozen feet’s worth of water here on what was supposed to be the shallow end of the pool, an oppressive amount of water that weighed down on his normal, air-breathing human body just enough to be felt. This was certainly a sort of no man’s land for the Captain, and he would not have time to go off exploring.

He had just barely touched the bottom before he felt the strain make itself known. “Mnh…” A warm feeling began to accumulate in his throat. Water pushed up into his nostrils, kept at bay via the instinct to obviously not breathe something you shouldn’t.

As he lowered himself and sat down on the smooth floor, he looked to his side, blinking hard as his eyes were still getting adjusted to the water, and saw Rio remain perfectly still. The Lucario had closed his eyes and nestled himself into a meditative position, with his legs crossed and his arms laying on top of them. His hair and his fur floated and swirled slightly against whatever faint current had been kicked up by the two divers’ movements. Most importantly, he did not let a single bubble loose, even with his snout tilted upward just a tad.

Figaro soon did the same, though it took some effort just to stay still and coordinated enough, with his body well aware he was surrounded by so much water. He took so much time trying to put his legs in that funny angle that Rio went for that he didn’t even notice he had passed the half-minute mark. By the time he settled into that position, though, his body helpfully reminded him.

“Mrmph!” The first heave was not a subtle one. Figaro squirmed a bit as his chest pushed in, a small hint of ribs peeking under his shirt. He scrunched up his face a little, suddenly more concerned with keeping the next heave sealed shut than with the whole “meditating” thing. Obviously, his body wasn’t gonna play along. The next few heaves came through with ease, pushing small bubbles past his pursed lips. A brief attempt to close his eyes was foiled, replaced by some worried looks to his side, where Rio somehow remained as stiff as a rock.

Lad, how long’re we doin’ this for? Figaro wondered, keeping his gaze on Rio’s bubble-free snout. I’m sorta pushin’ it down ‘ere!

About a minute. A familiar voice suddenly boomed across Figaro’s mind.

The surprise of it caught Figaro so off guard he might’ve slumped over and fainted right there, if he wasn’t so amazed by it. UHHHHH HEY HOW’D YE DO THAT?? He thought, loudly, somehow. Are you readin’ my mind right now?!

Yes. Rio peeked his right eye open to look at Fig. It’s not hard, with a mind as open as yours.

An’ how long have ya been readin’ my mind?? Privacy was suddenly a big worry for Fig, so much that he was unaware a minute had indeed passed by now, but the airlessness made itself known some more with sharper heaves that made his chest quiver.

I only started now. Rio assured him. Don’t worry, I won’t pry too much, young one. …And I’d rather you be focused than distracted. You’re doing good so far.

Figaro’s eyes lit up with wonder. A Pokemon with telepathy? And he’s using it to encourage me?? That’s so cool…

I heard that, by the way.

Oops, my ba— “GHBLHBLBL—!” Figaro let out a noisy cloud of bubbles and quickly covered his mouth. Uh oh, how long had it been??

Rio didn’t wait long. He got back up and beckoned Figaro to follow him back up for air, kicking his way to the top with ease.

Figaro was a little clumsier by comparison, but he at least kept his cool enough to not gulp down any water. At most, his nostrils flared a bit as he made the uncomfortably long swim back up, a good ten or fifteen or maybe twenty seconds of straight swimming before he got that much-needed taste of fresh air. “Pwah, pbbt!!” He spat out whatever water had snuck into his mouth and let out a cough or two to clear the droplets that had tried to reach further down.

You did pretty good that time, you know. That gruff voice echoed in Figaro’s mind again, even though Rio was literally next to him and could’ve just spoken out loud easily. This at least gave him more room to catch his breath. What else was on your mind down there?

Figaro looked like he was trying to solve ten sliding puzzles at the same time. Uhhh, lessee… Yer snout distracted me, the whole mind-readin’ thing happened, got aware of how deep it is down there, was spinnin’ an apple with my mind—

Well… Rio interrupted before the pile of thoughts got any taller. You’ll do fine if you’re distracted. But you’ll only unlock your potential… if you focus. Rio swam right in front of Figaro, that pair of piercing orange eyes aimed right at him. When you focus… You’re putting your mind ahead of your body. The way you put one foot in front of the other to move forward. That’s what true focus feels like. So just do that. We’ll go down again and—

So I should jus’ focus on one thing, lad? Figaro was unaware that he was Getting It. …He was also still amazed that he could “speak” without having to interrupt his breathing. Alright, yer the expert ‘round these parts. What should I be focusin’ on, Rio? I wanna know!

You’d think it’d be impossible, save for sleeptime, for a mind to go quiet. But somehow, Rio’s did. He let out a tired sigh and made his choice carefully. …Something you care about.

“Ohhhh, pshhh, well that’s one easy!” Figaro said out loud. “I’ll just think of—” He paused before he said this part out loud too, though. In fact, he kept this thought so close to himself that Rio chose not to read it. “Well, I’ll tell ya when we get back up, haha!” He was playful about it; Rio liked seeing his co-diver in a nice mood, for sure.

If you say so. If it helped this oddly high-spirited human to find that treasured balance between mind and body, then he was happy to indulge. But there was only one way to see if this approach would work.

Deep breaths. Rio’s calm voice had a bit more authority to it this time. Just the reminder of it — that he’d have to stop breathing entirely for some time — made Figaro a little bit anxious. He took those deep breaths, sure, but there was just the slightest hint of hesitation within him. …He would much rather not have to deal with said hesitation.

Rio didn’t give Figaro a heads-up this time. He simply took a deep(-ish) breath and sank out of sight. The Captain shook off his anxieties like a wet dog and went right back down, too, packing as much air inside his lungs as he could before slipping under the surface again…

“Mmph.” That first heave had grown quite familiar for Figaro by now. By now, he had taken quite a few dunks into the pool, and although he was a bit apprehensive about it at first, the quiet and peaceful nature of these depths were getting to him. Also helping: this old Lucario that not only kept an eye on him but kept stubbornly nudging him along the path of resilience.

Not yet. Rio gently chastised him, putting him back in line with a firm mental tug, like a good sensei would do. He peeked his good eye open just to make sure Figaro was still in good shape. Two and a half minutes sounds like a lot, he thought, sharing his inner voice with Fig, but it comes and goes just like that.

And Fig wanted to let his mind wander. Think about anything else other than that warm discomfort scratching up against his chest, and the bubbles that slipped past his mouth with every heave. Instead of just mere distractions, though… He tried to focus on one thing. Something that could help him push just a little farther, nudge him forward, help him stick to his word. It was a blurry mess of thoughts and memories at first, and although he couldn’t sense Rio poking around to read through them, he wanted to be sure the old man’s lesson stuck to him.

He sat still and leaned back against the wall. He thought of…

A warm hand petting a dejected Brionne, held tightly.

A morsel of food, kindly given to a weak, frail Snivy under the table.

A drunken giggle fit with a very sick friend. Dancing, singing together…

A lively crew that sticks around for times good and bad.

…If it wasn’t for the whole “needing oxygen” thing, Figaro might’ve stayed put for an hour, frequent thoughts, imaginary scenarios, memories old and new, just picking at his own brain in the low hum of the depths, occasionally interrupted by the sense of another mind brushing up against his own.

As is, though, he had to go and breathe like a normal person again. It’s kind of important.

“GRHMBLBL!” A sudden heave pressed hard against his chest, and that was his cue. Rio was caught a bit flat-footed, himself focusing on his own thing, but he quickly got back up and followed Fig closely back to the surface. However long it had been, the Lucario found he was pushing it a bit too, a trickle of bubbles floating alongside him.

Figaro climbed his way out of the pool and sat on its edge, his wet shirt clinging to his skin, his undies dripping cool water. He was panting harder than the last few times he had tried it, but clearly feeling a little better about this one. “Gh… Guh, phew… So, uh… how much was—”

“A bit over three minutes.” Rio’s chest pumped quite visibly as he said this.

“THREE???” It sure as hell didn’t feel that long! Fig’s eyes bulged in a cartoonish fashion. He looked down at the pool floor a few times, then to Rio, then he felt his heart thumping like a drum, then he—

“You’ve got the hang of it.” Rio was proud. He sat up next to Figaro and rubbed his shoulder, letting out a satisfied exhale. Even at his age, he was still pretty good as a sensei. “You learn pretty quickly, too. …So what was it this time?”

“Hm?”

Rio gently bapped his chest — with the front of his paw, thankfully. “You know, the key to keeping your body in check. The thing you chose to focus on. What was on your mind?”

Figaro leaned back with a soft, if somewhat melancholic expression, but he gave a cheery flavor to his answer. “...My friends!” A stray thought soon distracted him, though. “Hey, actually, does thinkin’ about a lotta friends count as thinkin’ of a lotta things? Or just one? Don’t wanna mess up the lesson if it does! ‘Cause like, it’s one idea but I’m throwin’ everyone on it like a big pot o’ soup and they mix together and…” He went on for a while.

Rio was mostly just half-listening after the first few sentences, but he got the gist of it. For whatever reason, a slight, warm smile formed on his face, not out of brief satisfaction or amusement, but a genuine, bottled-up feeling that hadn’t been nudged in a while. He ruffled Figaro’s wet hair. “...You've got a good head on your shoulders, Captain. Good friends, too, I bet. Could use a few more of those these days.”

Figaro let out a hearty laugh and counter-ruffled Rio’s fur. Although the Lucario flinched at first, he let it slide, leaning into it a bit. Fig went on: “I mean, I sure hope ya get more! Friends’re important, Rio! I got plenty! Friends that’re waitin' fer me, friends that’re countin' on me, friends that’ve stuck with me through thick and thin... Friends that are, uh... Ye get the idea—”

Not around. Rio couldn't help but pry; his curiosity got the best of him. Even ones… that aren’t getting along with you. Something about this stuck with Rio for longer than he expected. So much that he was brushing up a little too close to Fig’s mind than he normally would. And you still hold on. …And you still think of them, as friends?

“Well… course I do!” Figaro was undeterred, despite the doubt that loomed large in the corners of his mind. “I'd like ta get along with this friend again, see this other one again, have us all… Together safe an’ sound, an’ stuff like that…”

Although he hadn’t intended to, Rio found a weak point. He had a bad habit of spotting the cracks in the walls of others’ minds. “…Hmph. you're too kind,” he grumbled. He hopped back into the water, small waves pushing against the pool’s corners.

“Thank ye!” Figaro saw it as a strength. But also, he mostly just didn’t see it as a jab. What a nice compliment! He welcomed it!

Once he had also slid back into the pool, though, something seemed to play the strings of his brain. He couldn’t help but notice that subtle shift in Rio’s tone. More defensive, like a thin wall had been put in the way, maybe more… isolated. He figured a question or two might lower those defenses. “So when you do all this trainin’, lad, what do you think about?”

“…Nothing.” Rio muttered. “I just clear it.”

Fig was impressed. Kinda suspicious, but impressed. “Woah. Well, do ye do that?”

“I don’t do anything. I just… I empty it out and keep it closed. It’s, well, something you learn to do when you, control the aura.” Rio could do a lot of things. …He could not tell a convincing lie.

Not that Figaro would notice, having only met him today. But still, he unknowingly found his way around the mental wall being built up. “But when you wanna think of somethin' instead of nothin', what's the somethin' y'wanna think of?”

Rio quieted down. He kept his eyes away from Fig for once… But he chose not to keep this to himself. After all, he trusted him. “…An old friend.”

“Oh?”

Rio grabbed the edge of the pool and sighed. “He… He would always encourage me… Push me harder. Get me to do things I was too scared to do on my own. Pull me outside of my bubble.” The old Lucario scoffed. “…Y’know, I was a real shithead when I was your age. But he wasn't afraid of poking me and helping me get it together. He, uh. He was good at it.”

Figaro rubbed the old man’s back with a comforting smile. “Sounds like a great pal ta have. So, if ye don’t mind me askin’, what happened to yer friend? Is he, ya know... still kickin'?”

Rio wasn’t bothered by the question at all. “Oh, yeah. He simply left.”

“Left where? Outta town?”

“That's a great question.” And that answer raised a lot of them.

Of course a guy like Figaro wouldn’t lay down and take it until every option was exhausted. “I could go find him for ya!” he chirped.

Rio let out a raspy chuckle, a sign of wear and tear accentuated by several breathholds in a row. “I couldn't ask you for something like that.”

This time, Figaro was the one scoffing. “Haha, well, why not? I'm all over the place anyways. I'd be keepin' an eye out for the fella, promise!”

A stubborn old fart such as Rio wouldn’t budge, but at least he was tickled by the suggestion. “Heh. you won't find him. Big world out there.”

“Hey, I still think you'll find 'im again one day!” Figaro tried to cheer him up, even though he looked more wistful than sad.

The silver lining here: Rio appreciated the thought. He petted Fig less like a nice young fella and more like a funny little creature. “That's slightly too optimistic. But thanks.”

“Of course! I mean... I can relate, ya know? Got folks I'd like to, uh… Meet again someday and all..." Fig trailed off. His cheerful energy flickered.

"…You will.” This wasn’t mere reassurance; Rio was growing confident that this guy could make it. “After all, you're still young.”

The Lucario took a deep breath, as if suddenly aware again that he was in the pool still.

“Alright. We’ll do one more. No time or anything. Just stay down there and keep your focus up. I got you.” He tapped Fig’s shoulder. “You go first this time.”

“Wuh? Me~?” He was suddenly being trusted to lead the way rather than follow his sensei-for-a-day… Figaro was giddy at the thought, kicking his legs harder, but he calmed himself down and took those deep breaths he had (eventually) gotten used to.

With one last, long inhale, he swam all the way down and sat on the pool floor… Though he still felt a bit of a funny ache when he had to twist his legs into the proper meditative position. He closed his eyes, and let his mind take hold of the most vivid thoughts and memories he could recall.

This time, sure enough, Rio was the one following Fig. But he wanted to stay closer to the Captain for this round, and so he landed gracefully right in front of him, crossing his legs quickly and with little effort.

Feeling the water shift a little more than usual, Fig opened his eyes slightly. He was greeted by the sight of orange Lucario eyes staring right at him, a kind of gaze that might’ve scared the shit out of him on any other occasion. Uhhhh why’d ya get up so close this time?? He thought clearly, so Rio could “hear” it.

If you want to push things that far again, Rio answered, sitting very still, I want to be sure I'm right here to drag your ass up if I have to. Just to be safe.

Oh! Thanks, I think...! Figaro appreciated it, even if he didn’t really like the thought of choking on water in the first place. Avoiding that entirely would be great, actually. The mere thought of it amplified that warm, stale feeling in his throat.

Rio, though… Rio was as calm as ever. But he still had some trouble keeping his focus up. Something lingered within him.

…Y'know, I've been thinking about what you said... About what's motivating you here. His maw curved slightly. He held back a smile. Heh, this old man would rather not get sentimental with you, but... You know how it is.

Do I? Figaro wondered. …He wanted to pet this man so bad right now.

A part of you knows, I feel. You said you could relate. Rio averted his eyes, tilting his head down. Staring at this goober’s face for much longer would’ve been too distracting; already, a slight fizzle of bubbles made a sneaky escape out of his nostrils. He was straining. Most folks are quite simple to me. I take one good look into their minds and I get the idea fast. You, though…

Rio paused for a while. He wanted to keep a tight grip on his breathhold, as he felt it slipping. This wasn’t gonna be a record breaker, exactly.

“Mnrmph…” Figaro looked in slightly worse shape, already letting his chest quiver and push in on its own. But he was steady, watching his co-diver intently.

Well, you’re kinda simple-minded in your own way too, about some things, Rio acknowledged. But that’s not necessarily a bad thing. You’re just… A shudder interrupted Rio’s train of thought. He put a firm grip on his legs and rubbed them, trying to pay no mind to the contractions getting more and more frequent. I sense that… you got your reasons, your ideals, and you want to stick to them no matter what.

Was he onto something here? Figaro thought about it on his own for a few moments, and Rio didn’t pry this time. I mean, that’s what ye should do, right? He was barely paying attention to his intense heaves now, despite how much his body shook, a hint of his bouncing stomach peeking under his shirt as he cupped his mouth. Can’t just… Can’t just go givin’ up on folks, ya know?

Of course not. Rio locked eyes with Fig again. I’ve done that for longer than you’ve been alive. Just— “Grghgblbl.” A big burst fled from his maw, yet he stayed still, for the most part. Just… tired. Real tired. Life, fate, they got— “Hrrblghbl.” They got other plans sometimes.

That they do, lad! Figaro agreed, but he also insisted, briefly out-stubborning the old Lucario. “Gblhbl! Hmmph!” All the more reason to roll with the punches and— “HGBLBLBL! Mmn…!” He emptied himself out, one last flurry of bubbles bursting through his fingers, though for whatever reason, he didn’t panic. He stayed right here and finished his thought. And… And keep at it until you can’t!

“Hblbl, grrgh…” Rio bubbled out his last bits of air, too. His expression crumpled up, and his body felt so uncomfortably hot and shaky that he could barely think. But he tried anyway. Sure would… love some of your own resilience… right about now…!

Ye can… borrow some of mi— That might’ve been bad timing. Or funny, depending on who asks. “Snrrrk—!!” Figaro felt the water slide up his nose and he couldn’t stop it. When he tried to cough it out, more sloshed down his throat, and it landed so hard against the bottom of his lungs he physically felt it. “Mghhruhgulp!!” Nevermind oh no no oh no shit owowow that hurts a lot actually—

…Rio did not bother reading the rest of those thoughts. Figaro had clearly gone too far and reached his limit. There was nothing to be ashamed of here, especially for someone with no resilience training whatsoever. Alright, up you go! Don’t freak out, I got you.

When he tried to pull Figaro’s arm, though, the Captain shrugged him off. Ow, ow, no, h… hang on…! Fig stayed put, despite the noisy, gurgly gasp he just took. He was shaking hard, but didn’t leave his spot. What exactly was he trying to prove here?

You’ve pushed far enough. Rio was stern, and he would’ve indeed dragged his ass back up, if he himself wasn’t in serious need of air. His snout peeked open, and water swirled around inside his mouth, but he started to swallow it as long as he could. Move it, Captain…!

Not yet, lad! Figaro “spoke” clearly, cold water flowing through his system with immense discomfort. Look, I’m… rolling with the punches, and… keeping… at it…! “Hrgglp.” Those liquid breaths were so rough, impossible to ignore, but so was his need to prove a point.

You… Rio snarled. What’s with you, trying to act so tough for no reas— “SNRKGLP!” The Lucario couldn’t wait any longer, not unless he wanted two drowned idiots at the bottom of the pool. He fought hard through the pain of water splashing down the wrong pipe and flailed on the way up.

He surfaced with nasty coughs and gasps, but he couldn’t waste time catching his breath. At most, he allowed himself a handful of rushed breaths before he inhaled, an uncomfortable amount of moisture still stuck inside him, and sank back down right away.

Figaro couldn’t even spare a thought right now. He got back up on his feet and tried to swim, but his arms felt like jelly and his legs weren’t listening. His muffled breaths sped up in a failed attempt to draw something other than water, tiring him out even more. He had to tense up and shake his head just to stay awake…

And he insisted long enough that he could feel Rio grasping him tightly by the waist and carrying him up. Well, good thing no one’s drowning today… It even felt a little relaxing to be this dizzy and tired… and sleepy—

As soon as they broke the surface, though, reality made itself known once again. The taste of fresh air stirred Figaro just enough to start gargling and splashing.

“GHHASP— HRGH!!” Rio was in somewhat better condition, but he still needed to clear his throat badly, and took noisy gasps as he shakily willed himself out of the pool. He dragged Figaro out of it too, pulling him by the arm in a way that felt pretty familiar.

“Hghhhrlp, gaaasp— hrk—!” As soon as he got all the way out of the water, Fig turned right back around to force out the water that had lodged itself inside him. He sprung open like a faucet, and much like one he let out a little squeak when he eventually brought it back to the closed position. It was just bad coughs and wet gasps from here on out, an effort that had him slumped on the ground, sopping wet, tuckered the hell out.

Rio got up on his knees, water dripping from his hair and clung to his fur, while he slowly recovered. “You are… quite the handful…” Rio growled aloud. “…And you proved your point. W… Was it worth it, young one?”

There was no way Figaro was gonna speak aloud in this condition. I… Okay… I’m not sure if it was, actually… He admitted it, so that’s something. As he flipped himself face-up, looking at Rio… he gave him a pleased little smirk. I lasted… longer than ya that time, by the way!

Before the gloating could go on any longer, Rio put a forepaw on Figaro’s face, squishing him firmly, and shook him a little. “Won’t happen again,” Rio gruffed. He got up on his feet and stumbled and walked away, out of sight but still lending a thought or two. You tugged at my mind a little too hard, is all.

Sorry ‘bout that! Figaro was quick to apologize, and a little less quick to try and get up. His body was still not very happy about it, though, and he flopped back down to catch his breath some more.

At least, until a big, dry towel landed on his face. “Mmph… Thnk ymph.”

And put your clothes out to dry, too. Rio helpfully reminded him with a tone that felt more like a tired roommate than a sensei.

As Figaro slipped out of his wet clothes and put the towel on, he felt every bit of that aching, tired feeling grip him all over again. Oh right, he sure went and walked multiple hours to get here in the first place, huh? Ya know, Rio, not complainin’ ‘ere, but there was less meditatin’ and relaxin’ involved in this than I expected!

Once you’ve done it every other day for years and years like I have, he lent his train of thought generously, you get used to it. You optimize it. You forget you even have a body for your mind to connect to. But you can’t go ignoring it either… So don’t treat it too harshly.

“I’ll try!” Figaro called out properly this time. He wiped his hair with the towel, tugging at his small ponytail, and left it all a little floppy.

“…By the way,” Rio also called out. “You hungry? I’m no chef, but—”

“YES PLEASE.”

Rio and Figaro retreated to a compact, messy room, within view of that deep, blue pool. Also in view: the hut’s roof, where Figaro’s shirt and undies drifted in the wind, attached to a pole like proud flags. A slow sequence of old pots and pans took their turns being heated up by a comically small electric stove. But what a reliable stove it was.

Rio set the plates and bowls carefully in front of Figaro, who had sat down, thick pink towel bundled around him, and in the meditative position just for funsies. He was waiting oh so patiently, until…

“Rice.” Rio presented the dishes, and the starving Fig began to scarf them down with, admittedly, gross noises. Great rice, by the way. “Krabby soup.” Also tasted immediately. Salty, but savory also. Hot, too. “Sitrus Berry shake— Don’t drink this all in one go. I’ll only warn you once.” Rio covered the top of this tall glass as he spoke firmly, and eventually raised his paw to present the glass properly.

…Figaro took a lot of sips. Small sips, though, and every drop of it brought more color (and warmth) back to his cold face. “Guh, I needed that real bad, ta be honest…”

“Ah, the fried Veluza isn’t done yet,” Rio grumbled, poking it and keeping a close eye on it as it sizzled on the pan, “but you can take a bowl of it with you on the way out. Clothes should be mostly dry anyway, and if you wait any longer it’ll be sunset by the time you get to town.”

“…Oy, that’s right!!” With such a rollercoaster of a training session clogging up his brain, Figaro had almost forgotten how he ended up here in the first place! He drank up the soup and the shake back-to-back (he would, eventually, regret this) and ate up the rice without his hands or chopsticks like a ravenous beast. “…Ye wouldn’t happen to have enough grub fer a full of, lessee, one, two, three, four, five—”

“…Oh, sure thing Captain, just give me several hours to work with.” Rio wasn’t being sarcastic so much as skeptical of his own cooking skills.

“Ahaha, a bit too much ta ask, I know,” Figaro admitted bashfully.

Rio got up to fetch those hopefully-dry clothes from the roof. In the meantime, Figaro was left to fetch something less dry: the fried Veluza from the pan, crackling as its juices began to leak out. A big bowl with a sturdy lid would keep them nice and warm… As soon as they got shakily removed from the loud, sizzling oil with uncomfortably short tongs. …This, somehow, was scarier than inhaling water.

Poor Fig took so long, in fact, that he had only closed the lid with a satisfying pop when he saw Rio deliver the clothes to him.

“…Hearts, though?” Rio teased him as he spun the undies around. “Heh. Cute choice.”

Figaro felt… a lot of things. But most of all, he felt refreshed. The encounter with Rio didn’t deter him from his endlessly optimistic mindset; in fact, it only seemed to strengthen it. He stood tall at the creaky dojo’s entrance, taking in a deep breath of the fresh and clean air. “Phew… ya know, I wouldn’t mind stoppin’ by here more often, Rio! It’s a bit outta the way, sure, but yer a wise old fella and ye taught me a lot! Like how much it sucks to breathe water! And also important stuff!!”

“…You have a good heart.” Rio didn’t keep this thought to himself this time. “Don’t go lettin’ people take advantage of it. And, I dunno, just… Take good care of your friends. Never know which'll be the last good day you get to have with them.”

That last point made Figaro’s mind stop dead in its tracks for a moment. He kept that thought close… then moved on to the other, earlier thing. “Aww, shucks, well ye don’t gotta worry ‘bout me, lad! I’m a grown man an’ I can handle the tough stuff.” Fig put his hands on his waist and struck a cool, if somewhat unconvincingly confident pose.

Rio sighed deeply. He walked up to Figaro, staring hard as he tends to do, and raised an eyebrow.

Then he started walking.

“…You know, if you go back the way you came from on your own,” he muttered, “you’re definitely gonna get lost again. I’ll go with you and see you off when you reach town.”

Figaro lit right up and caught right up to Rio with a spring in his step. “Ya meeean it~? That’s so nice of ya!”

The old Lucario huffed.

“…Might help out with whatever errand you had here too.” Already, he had taken a right where Figaro took a left, walking off the beaten path and through the tall grass. “But that’s it. I’m not leaving this region anytime soon.”

Figaro walked clumsily, brushing against grass and branches swayed by the late afternoon wind, but he was happier than ever. “Always a treat ta have a navigator on hand! Lead the way, gramps!”

“Hey, I’m not that old yet. …Right? Heh heh.” Rio chuckled with a raspy tone.

They kept their spirits high on their long walk to the nearest town. Although he hadn’t peered into the Captain’s mind too deep… He caught a whiff of it. Dangerous adventures. Hard choices. Rough nights. Unwanted goodbyes. And at such a young age, too… Even just a hint of it weighed heavily on old Rio. But somehow… this guy. This guy, of all guys, got through it all with a smile. He sure as hell didn’t mind poking at his odd mind for even a little while longer. Just a little more…

…Fig had popped the bowl of fried Veluza open, but as soon as he took a big, crunchy bite, he winced and rubbed his tummy, laughing, embarrassed. “…Stomach hurts a little, ahaha…”

“Well, don't eat so fast next time,” Rio nagged him, tapping his shoulder. “…And save some for me next time too, Captain.” He nabbed a piece of it for himself and bit into it.

…Pretty damn tasty. Not bad, gramps.