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[Jasper]

"You cannot learn a thing unless you fail."

At times like these, the speeches aren't needed. Expressions say it all in their stead.

Our trainer's eyes peer into the ceiling. Her lips twitch as if she's silently talking or cursing. Her hand brushes against the precious egg, checking its surface for signs of damage.

She sighs, both from creeping exhaustion and out of a bittersweet relief, <Great.>

Turning her head around, she glances over Garnet who presses himself onto the corner like an ashamed kid. Her gaze almost makes him shrink in size as his arms defensively fold on his chest. He looks like a child about to be scolded. The flocks of his fur stand up and spread, forming thin spikes of hair all across his coat. His ears stiffen, pressing one into another. The cotton tail straightens itself akin to a spear. Droplets of sweat pop out on his forehead.

I'm sure he'd rather sink into the floorboards and merge with the ship than be anywhere near this intense scrutinizing gawp. Scarier than any strike or a wave of cold water.

They look at each other for such a painful while. Before the bunny tentatively points his finger at the exit.

Auntie gives him permission to skitter away, <Yes. Have a walk.>

Slipping out through the doorway like a mouse, he scuttles into the hall and disappears with such speed that it seems like he wasn't there in the first place.

<Jasper?> the caretaker's voice sounds a little bit more relaxed.

A petty meow escapes my lips. Begging her to be softer on him. I know the bunny didn't mean to cause any issues. It was an honest mistake.

I'm sorry. I should have stopped him.

<Keep an eye on Trouble. He's still yet to recover,> she gives me a task, expecting assistance.

Easier said than done. Even if I'm rarely leaving his side in the first place. But I will try my best. I promise.

Sharing a nod of acknowledgment with Hazel, I dash towards the main deck, struggling to catch up with the wayward fellow of mine, "W-wait!"

Cinderace slows down, throwing his head back in frustration. Clearly upset at himself.

I plead, trying through him, "Garnet... Please?"

"If you have things to say, go ahead," he mutters under his breath, letting out a groan of painful exasperation.

I wasn't planning to. I'm just happy it's over.

"I don't..." my whisper is barely audible, blending with heavy strained pants.

My palm stretches out towards him. Almost touching his elbow. But recoils at the very last second.

"Well," he loudly exhales, doing a reversal to face me. His expression is as serious as a slab of rough cobblestone.

My fingers instinctively flinch.

Ah, why is it so hard? I wish I could touch him. I wish I could share an embrace and explain that things aren't as bad as they seem. And that I know he didn't bear any ill. But all I can do is blink and ogle at him.

"Anyone's home, Wide-Eyes?" a guilty smirk caresses his snout.

Yes. But I'm so bad at this. Struggling to put my thoughts into words that might bring any comfort.

The bunny raises his brow, patiently waiting for me to respond. Then closes his lids, dropping down his tone, "I think I need some fresh air. Care to tag along?"

"Y-yeah," I mimic his gesture. The question is rhetorical.

We walk in silence. He must be used to me shadowing him every step of the way. It has always been like this for as long as I remember. Makes the unfamiliar places look that much less worrying to explore.

Sometimes I wonder how he tolerates my short-spoken presence.

The rain has stopped. Giving us much-needed respite.

It's pitch-black outside. Most of the bulbs are as silent as death. A bleak crescent moon is the only source of light, peeking from above the forever-stretching storm clouds that cover the skies like a thick silky quilt. It seems that even the stars evade our notice. Perhaps it's for the best.

Somehow the impenetrable dark brings a sense of peace to this misfortune of a vessel. Concealing all the disrepair, trash, and rubble strewn across the dilapidated floor. Not having to see the signs of destruction is already a comfort in itself.

The seaborn breeze has lost its sour metallic taste of burnt-out wires and electronics. The brine and salt have made it into their domain.

Cold gushes of the wind resonate with the hum of the malfunctioning engines and rhythmic creaks of the crumbling hull.

My breaths turn milky white, leaving droplets of dew on my nose. It's freezing. The temperature stabs my skin with countless needles of frost.

The bunny stares into the void of the distant horizon for just a mere few seconds, before quickly losing all interest. Unable to make anything out under the blanket of impenetrable shade.

Not even a twitch in his paws, despite the crackling pelagic air slowly suffusing with ice. I wish I had his coat. It looks like it's almost steaming as it heats up to adjust to the descending rime. Exuding a hot haze in the air.

His claws nab at the medical corset, desperate to get to the sore and surely itching wounds.

"Can you take this thing off now? It's nagging me," he breaks up the silence.

"Not yet" -I hold my ground- "I-I'm sorry."

As much as it hurts to deny him this small piece of mind, it'll make the healing much quicker.

"Be it your way," my friend shares a grimace, giving me a blank stare. Looking me up and down.

Garnet's mad at me, isn't he?

He lets out a growl, bending over.

"What are you-"

"Just give me a moment. My back's killing me," the bunny cuts me off, slightly raising his tone.

His palm searches for something on the surface of the mangled deck, jingling the chunks of metal against each other. I hope he isn't planning to cut the bandages off.

"There," he jerks back up, throwing a rag over my shoulders.

A sheet of slick thin fabric envelops me like a cloak. A torn-out piece of sails from how it feels like. Or whatever's left of it.

How thoughtful.

Wrapping myself in the layers of canvas, I seek reprieve from the biting fangs of crippling cold. It helps. If only for some time.

The bunny checks up on me, "Any better?"

"A lot," I mumble with a quivering voice.

"Sorry for the whole mess. Should have listened to you. For once," Cinderace spills out, still dwelling on it.

"It's okay-"

"It's not" -he interjects again- "the kid could have died before they even had a chance to hatch."

"It wasn't your fault..." I try to make it easier for him.

"Oh yeah, now you sound just like myself. Must have been the wind knocking it over," my friend parries. He sounds so grim, unlike his usual self.

He's right. But that doesn't mean that I will stop caring. His heart was in the right place. Just. A little too excited to jump into action.

Garnet turns to face the sea, "Look. We're buddies. And that's exactly why you don't have to sugarcoat it."

Please. That's enough.

Inching just a little closer in hopes of overcoming my anxiety, I try to have another shot at giving him some comfort.

My limbs are still.

Coward. Why can't I? Why do they feel so heavy?

We used to do it all the time when we were kids. I guess back then there was no other hidden meaning to it. And yet right now, it suddenly feels frightening to share a hug. What if he finds out about my secret? It'll only make things worse.

We stand in silence. Yet again. Stretching out the time.

The brackish waves look almost soothing in the dark when one can't see beyond their surface. I love to think that they are shallow. That bottom is right there, close enough to touch. It's childish, I know. Like closing up your eyes to make the monster disappear. But it helps to get through it.

The waves gulp and tap across the port. Much calmer than ever before. I wonder how long it will last.

The woeful echoes of the ocean get interrupted by a dull metallic click of a switch.

The deck bursts into the light so abruptly that it blinds us both.

"WOW!" Garnet yelps out, trying to shield himself.

I hop behind his back. Unfortunate force of habit.

One of the last remaining lamps on the roof turns around with a horrid rusty screech. The kind of sound to churn my stomach and nag at the very wrong spot in my mind. A ray of dazzling yellow follows suit, changing its direction towards the prow of the vessel. Peeping out into the shades to make them flee and retreat.

When eyes adjust, we see the culprit.

A tall blue amphibian figure perched at the very top of the crumpled cabin, still pushing the light source and readjusting the bearing. Her scale-covered limbs are so painfully thin that they remind me of frail young branches of a quivering willow ready to snap at the single careless touch. But the looks are often deceiving.

Cream-colored frill tenses up from the effort, shuddering in the wind along with a leathery cloak.

"Opal," the bunny calls out to her.

"Ashes," Inteleon acknowledges his presence matter-of-factly. Her voice is hollow yet smooth.

She rarely uses our actual names. For whatever reason or the lack of it.

"What in the world are you doing?" Cinderace rubs his snout, trying to come back to his senses. “Thanks for the head-up. It totally didn't freak us all out."

"What does it look like? Turning this thing into a headlamp," she speaks without bothering to face us. Her needle-like fingers tinker with a flock of smoldering wires. Garnet's objection stands disregarded.

"For?" He presses on, clearing his vision.

The amphibian freezes, moving her golden eyes on him with an expression of absolute astonishment, "Have you hit your head along with your ribcage, Jinx?"

Here they go again. These two have been at each other's throats for years now.

"Or do you want to run over a reef on the way?" she barks, letting go of the steel handles affixed to the catwalk.

"Can you ever explain things without getting unnecessarily hostile? I'm not in the mood to play games of back-and-forth right now," Garnet frowns, as sour as a piece of lemon.

"I ain't playing either," Opal huffs, slipping off the uneven parapet.

A mere second later she lands on the deck with a grace fit for a dance, doing a pirouette across the slippery floor. Despite her thread-like appearance, she towers over us both as she walks past to climb onto the cutwater.

A tinge of bitter resentment washes over Cinderace's guise.

I find enough strength to speak out, addressing both before it could escalate. "Can you... Not fight? This one time? Please?"

"Wasn't planning to," she retorts with the same serene and nonchalant tone.

"Seriously. Isn't that what those radar things in the cabin are made for? To prevent us from RAMMING into stuff?" the bunny shakes his head, leaning into the railings. “This flare is going to attract every last creature there is in the sea."

"Garnet?" I softly whisper.

"What? I'm just asking a question-"

"Look around, Flames. Do you think any of those are working right now?" Inteleon interrupts.

He sighs, getting visibly tired, "I guess not."

"Then you have your answer," she stops, folding her arms and looking towards the illuminated clearance ahead.

The light reveals little of notice, aside from the salty plains extending far and beyond. They seem intimidatingly endless. Not a single lump of land or wedge of rock to grace the sight. Nothing at all but everlasting dark blue.

Just how long have we been going? And most importantly where?

"Opal?" my voice breaks the embarrassing silence.

"Petals?" the amphibian mirrors me.

"Did everyone make it?" I nag her, getting worried for the rest of the crew. “Are they okay?"

"Well-nigh," Inteleon switches her attention to me.

Her auric eyes. Sometimes they give me the chills. It's not her temper, nor her bluntness, nor even her rough love that everyone is well acquainted with by now. It's her eyes.

It genuinely feels like they see right through you. Picking every detail. Every twitch. Every movement. Every slight change in mimics. Piercing through any mask or facade that you may try to put on. As if you're an open book, bare and exposed before them.

"Long-Ears is trying to throw whatever vile supplies the captain had in his storage to make ourselves a meal," she nods in the direction of the winding ladder leading into the dim cargo hold.

That would be Agate. The way she makes it sound. She's the only one among us who can cook.

"Hm," Garnet scowls.

The moment our Lopunny is mentioned he seems to be disinterested in any updates. Detaching himself from our conversation and turning away. What's that all about? I don't remember them being at odds.

"And the child?" I follow up.

"Resting," Inteleon taps her waist. As if to mimic the motion of placing a Poké Ball back on the belt.

"Wait. D-did Amber get hurt?" it's hard to hide concern sipping into my voice.

The amphibian isn't as bothered, "Nothing he can't handle."

That is of little clarity or comfort. I hope Teddiursa is safe.

And so I go on, "What happened?"

"The serpent happened. He got away with scabs and bruises. And enough common sense to sit it out and heal instead of running around like a rabbit with a sore head," she jabs at the bunny once more.

"I'm still here if you haven't noticed," he snarls. Both of the ears press into his temples discontent starting to boil over.

Opal jeers, provoking him further, "I know."

Goodness. Not again.

"Oh, COME ON! You don't have to rub it into my face!" two strings of smoke escape his nostrils, the fire's lashing out.

"You won't learn a thing if I put it any other way," the amphibian barks back.

"Keep talking like that and we're going-"

"STOP" -my loud yelp draws their attention- "please?"

"Please," reiterating my words, I slide in between them.

"Fine. You know what, I'll just screw RIGHT off," Cinderace mutters grinding his teeth in rapidly growing fury.

He storms a dozen meters away, slamming himself onto the floor next to the entrance of our butchered quarters. Taking a protective pose to peer over the starboard.

Can't catch a break for even a moment. As if a lost battle wasn't enough.

I'm urged to follow my friend.

"No," Opal stops me with a gesture before I could take off.

"Let him cool down, Roses," her tone is so calm, it seems like nothing has happened.

Does she not care at all?

"Have you got... Nothing nice to say? Why does it have to be a fight?" I whisper back to her.

"This isn't fighting. It's teaching. Or do you expect me to give him a pat on the back for jumping in head-first without using his brains?" she replies, slightly lifting her shoulders. "Truth hurts. And so does learning."

There is a point. I guess. But the manner in which she says it sounds like picking on a barely healed wound. It's harsh. Too harsh. He had enough going on. There is no need to drive it any further than it already is.

Giving me a minute to contemplate her speech, Inteleon strolls toward the bow before speaking out again, "You know what I'm thinking?"

"Y-yeah?" I give a hushed sickly return, barely willing to continue our conversation.

I'm upset. I wish this whole talk never happened. What a mess.

"I think this isn't just a leisure trip, nor another hunt for test results and numbers," Opal makes a wild guess.

At least she's changing the topic. I don't want to dwell on it anymore.

"How so?" my voice turns quieter, trailing off into a whisper.

"Think," she presses her palms into the fence, watching the waters ahead. "We're far away from the shore. The maps are empty. There are no points of interest anywhere for hundreds of miles and yet our lead doesn't seem to slow down the pace. Despite the damage we sustained."

Her finger brushes against the wrecked mast, evaluating the extensive marks of destruction, “In any other circumstances, the ship would have been turned around to lick up the wounds back at the land. Unless. There is a port ahead."

That doesn't make any sense.

"A port? I-In the middle of the Ocean?" I'm perplexed, taken aback by hypotheticals. “If the charts are empty… No. No, that can't be right."

"Just sharing an observation" -Inteleon shrugs- "we have a clear place to be from how it looks. Whether it exists or not."

"But why risk it all and take the gamble?" I shoot back.

"Go figure. Some food for thought," the amphibian concludes, observing the skyline.

I don't know how I should feel about this. But definitely not excited whatsoever. The vessel can't go much longer. Unless she's onto something, the waves will surely finish the job that our enemy couldn't.

So many questions and too few answers to give us any modicum of reprieve. We have our share of problems as it is. Without chasing ghost and castles in the sky.

Another shaky cloud of steam escapes my mouth. My nerves are giving way again. The cold isn't helping either.

"I-I'll take my leave," my paws cling onto the improvised blanket in desperate search of protection.

She lets me go with a haphazard nod. Still surveying the fore.

The puzzles can wait. There's someone who needs care right now.

Meandering my way back to the bunny, I kneel beside him. Pushing the junk and scrap away.

His ears are resting on his back. His face is plain and blank. He's troubled.

"Hey," I try to get his attention.

"Mhm," he sounds stale, staring at the waves.

My knees huddle up under the quilt, seeking comfort from sputtering frost, "A-are you okay?"

"I'll manage," Garnet's reply is spent and drained up dry.

He won't. It's bad. That is for certain. But what do I say?

I falter, inching myself closer to him, "I-I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what?" he peers his scarlet eyes at me.

"For everything," a whimper is my only response.

Cinderace sways his head from side to side, "Bud. You have nothing to apologize for. I should be the one doing that."

Perhaps a distraction could help. Mesprit, why does it hurt so much?

"Do you want to go downstairs and have dinner together?" I almost grab him by his forearm. Almost.

The bunny declines, "I'll be fine."

"Can I bring you something to eat at least? We might still have some pinaps," an ace in the sleeve is my final resort.

He slightly perks up, hearing what probably is his favorite word in the world. I know how much he loves the taste of those sweet juicy treats.

"You make it sound compelling," Cinderace seems tentative for a moment before giving in to temptation. “You know what? Deal."

There he goes. Despite sounding as vacant as before, a little twitch in his tail says it all for him. Ha.

Scrambling my way back onto my feet, I ready myself to run to the hold. But a loud call stops me in my tracks.

<Garnet!>

This time the bunny is the one to flinch.

Our Auntie's voice sounds calmer. If anything.

She walks out the doorway. Decked in whatever warm clothing she could find intact. Citrine circles her shoulders, trying to find shelter under the fuzzy winter-proof collar of an oversized green parka. His tiny grabber peeks from under the fur, showing us a thumbs-up. Whatever that means in our circumstances.

The egg is tightly wrapped in fleece duvets, cradled between our trainer's arms.

<The problem is solved. I think we found a replacement for the heating coils,> she looks so smug, her face is ripe to burst.

The bunny's ears spring up like two switch-blades. He knows exactly where this is going.

Helioptile puts up a self-approving grin. As if he just solved the whole conundrum all by himself.

Hazel squats down, throwing the corners of the quilt over our friend's torso like a pair of backpack straps.

<You're good, my boy. Just gotta do what we gotta do, right?> she giggles, bearing no malice. Tying the cloth in knots.

Cinderace doesn't make a single sound. His face turns pale, completely flabbergasted.

His eyes.

If looks could kill.