Pokemon: A Fisherman's Tale

The obedient Poliwag let out a few small sounds of acknowledgment. After finishing its meal, instead of resuming training, it waddled over to sit near Ryan's feet.

The wait was too long, and Poliwag was exhausted. It yawned widely before curling up at Ryan's feet and dozing off.

Ryan simply laid Poliwag down gently, allowing it to rest. He didn't disturb it and continued to wait quietly for any sign of a fish biting his hook.

However, something strange was happening today—no movement from the fishing line, no ripples on the water. The sea was eerily calm, and the air lacked the usual breeze.

Suddenly, a massive shadow loomed over Ryan.

Realizing something was wrong, Ryan looked up. The bright blue sky had disappeared, replaced by an ominous blanket of dark clouds stretching as far as the eye could see.

"Clouds? Storm clouds?" Ryan muttered, gazing at the oppressive sky. In the distance, more clouds gathered, growing darker and more menacing.

The once-clear skies were now filled with gloomy clouds, casting a dull, suffocating atmosphere over the area. The air felt thick, making it difficult to breathe.

Ryan's face darkened as he seemed to realize what was about to happen. A storm was brewing.

No one likes bad weather, especially when it's a calm, sunny day. A little heat is fine, but nobody wants the rain or the wind.

Suddenly, the wind picked up, and the peaceful sea began to churn with growing waves.

Ryan quickly reeled in his fishing line and packed up his gear. Now it made sense why the fish weren't biting—they had all fled to safer waters, sensing the coming storm.

He gently nudged Poliwag awake. "Poliwag, time to get up. It's going to rain soon."

"Lo?" Poliwag blinked groggily, still half-asleep.

Seeing Ryan packing up, Poliwag yawned again and trailed after him as he headed back to their shelter.

Upon reaching the shelter, Poliwag curiously watched Ryan as he began digging holes in the sand, intrigued by his strange behavior.

In reality, Ryan was digging to bury plastic buckets and foam boxes. He hoped to collect and store rainwater after the storm.

He also dug another hole near the shelter to bury fresh water containers, covering them with foam boards weighed down by rocks, ensuring they wouldn't be blown away by the wind.

After burying the containers, Ryan dismantled the makeshift shelter. Judging by the size of the storm clouds, the simple structure wouldn't survive the incoming storm. Instead of losing his materials, he took them down, intending to rebuild once the storm passed.

To ensure he had dry firewood after the storm, he wrapped some wood in the shelter's tarp, sealing it with multiple layers of waterproof plastic and securing it with rocks.

Then, Ryan dug another hole to bury his old fishing rod and other essentials, like his lighter, wrapped in plastic to protect them from the rain.

Even his pack of cigarettes, which he refused to smoke but liked to keep for sentimental reasons, was sealed in plastic and buried at the bottom of the pit.

Finally, he buried a few other items: a keychain, his trusty folding knife, a couple of iron cups, pots, and the stew pot he had found earlier that day. He even buried his hammock, a plastic basin, and an hourglass.

Satisfied that everything valuable was buried, Ryan covered the pit with a wooden table and weighed it down with stones.

He was about to sit and rest when the wind suddenly picked up. This was rare—he hadn't felt such a strong gust in days.

Looking up, he saw that the dark clouds had fully engulfed the island.

Boom, boom, boom—

The clouds rumbled ominously. They were getting darker and closer, lightning flashing within them. Thunder growled overhead, heralding the storm's arrival.

Ryan knew he had to act quickly. This wasn't just any rainstorm—it was shaping up to be the worst he'd faced during his time on the island.

A storm at sea is no joke. Without proper preparation, it could be deadly.

He scrambled to make use of every resource available, reinforcing his defenses with extra plastic sheets and fabric to shield himself from the storm.

He wasn't an expert, but he knew enough about the dangers of hypothermia. Continuous exposure to rain could lead to his body temperature dropping, a silent killer in harsh conditions.

The storm's duration was unknown, and there was nowhere to take shelter from the downpour. Ryan had to make sure he stayed warm and dry.

He grabbed the cloth he had collected earlier and began wrapping it around his body, covering his arms, legs, and even his feet, securing everything with string. Then he wrapped himself in plastic, sealing it tight to keep out the moisture.

He fashioned a makeshift rain hood, leaving only his eyes, nose, and mouth exposed.

As he finished wrapping up, the rain began to fall, light at first, but steadily increasing. The raindrops drummed on the plastic covering him.

Still, his preparations weren't finished. Ryan strapped a lifebuoy around himself and tied a thick rope to a large tree at the edge of the jungle. The other end of the rope was secured to his body, ensuring that the strong winds wouldn't blow him away.

He also filled a large plastic bottle with cool boiled water, clutching it tightly. He didn't want to drink rainwater unless absolutely necessary, knowing the risks of illness from contaminated water.

He wasn't ready to die yet—not before his journey as a Pokémon trainer had truly begun.

Securing everything, he glanced at Poliwag, who was sheltering beneath the tree, trying to avoid the rain.

"Poliwag, come inside," Ryan called, holding out a Poké Ball. It would be safer for Poliwag to stay inside during the storm.

"Lo? Lo, lo!" Poliwag shook its head, reluctant to enter the ball.

But Ryan's tone became firm. "If you don't go in, you'll be in the way. I don't need a Pokémon who won't listen to me."

Startled by Ryan's seriousness, Poliwag hesitated but still refused.

Ryan sighed, then lightly tapped the Poké Ball against Poliwag's side, drawing it inside. He quickly locked the ball to prevent Poliwag from escaping.

Through the transparent casing, he could see Poliwag struggling inside. He whispered softly, "I'm sorry, Poliwag. This is the only way I can protect you. We'll be together again once this storm passes."

Ryan held the Poké Ball close as he sat down, leaning against the tree roots, waiting silently for the storm to end.

As the storm raged on, thunder cracked loudly overhead. A nearby tree was struck by lightning, momentarily bursting into flames before the rain quickly doused it.

The shockwave from the strike shook the ground, and Ryan shivered in fear. He prayed silently that he wouldn't suffer the same fate.

With the rain pouring and the wind howling, Ryan huddled against the tree, holding the Poké Ball tightly. Through the transparent surface, Poliwag's worried eyes peered out at him.

"Don't worry, Poliwag," he whispered. "This storm will pass soon."

He climbed around the tree roots several times that day, seeking shelter from the relentless wind. By the time night fell, he was exhausted. Cold, wet, and hungry, Ryan could barely move.

He curled up under the tree, covering himself with damp leaves for warmth. The Poké Ball stayed in his arms as he whispered a quiet "goodnight" to the stormy night.

And despite the chaos outside, Ryan finally drifted off to sleep, holding on to the hope of seeing a brighter day ahead.