Chapter 8: Chapter 8: Splash

It had come to my attention that I had neglected to look at or even consider what I was going to do with my [Life Skills]. Part of me wondered if I had just been avoiding it—never was a huge fan of gathering or crafting in any of the games I played, especially MMOs. But I supposed if I was going to live here, then it’d be best that I learn how to perform even the simplest of tasks.

“Got your tackle ready?” Keke was as vibrant as ever, charged with a level of energy I couldn’t quite fathom.

“Is this really necessary?” Overboard didn’t cut it. I was expecting maybe a simple fishing rod and some bait. Nothing excessive. 

This was definitely excessive.

Keke was adamant about having the right gear, even for a novice fisherman like myself. With the iPaw in my spare hand, I brought it closer to see 15 of my 20 newly discovered [Inventory] slots had been taken up by fishing gear alone. I lamented my sudden loss of inventory space and wondered how she planned to keep the fish I caught.

“It. Is. Paramount that you have the right gear,” she said, wagging her finger. “Besides, with your [Cat Pack], you’ll be fine!”

There was so much I wanted to say. I wanted to complain about the low inventory space, ask why we needed to wear special [Fishing] clothes, why I needed a net, four cages, and ten different types of fishing lures. But I waited. I waited for Keke to bring me any kind of revelation. Until then, my stare trailed off to the bikini-clad Cannoli who was currently splashing her feet through the shoreline’s water with her fishing rod swinging over her shoulder.

Ahh, that’s nice.

“Matt! Pay attention!” Keke snapped.

“Right!”

“First of all, make sure you have your fishing rod and tackle box out.”

“I have a question,” I said with a raised hand. I brought the tackle box up to eye level and shook it around for effect. “The bait and lures are in here, right?”

“Yes. That goes without saying.”

“So, then, why does every lure take up a slot of my [Inventory] inside the [Cat Pack]?” I jiggled the box again. “I can hear them shaking around in here, so I should be able to pull them out of there too. Right?”

“Of course you can pull them out of your tackle box. But you can reach into your [Cat Pack] to get them too.” She shrugged. “Whatever’s easier.”

The [Inventory] system reminded me of an MMO I played a few years back that suffered from the same issue. Players had requested a tackle box feature for years—they would run out of inventory space due to all the fish and equipment in their inventories. But because of “system limitations,” the game never actually saw a tackle box feature while I was playing.

I wonder if they ever did get their tackle box.

I glanced at the jingling [Cat Pack] tied to my hip, then back to the tackle box. Keke had handed the [Cat Pack] to me that morning with a nonchalant, “Oh, everyone has one of these” and no other explanation. I’d watched her pack the leather pouch like Mary Poppins’ purse and snap the top closed.

“Here. You’ll need your [Garden Lure] first. Retrieve it like I showed you this morning.” Keke set a hand on her hip.

“Can’t we just swim?” Cannoli whined in the background, kicking at the waves lapping at her feet. “The water feels so nice!”

I glanced up and found my eyes lingering on the sparkling droplets against Cannoli’s pale legs.

Keke cleared her throat. “Matt. [Garden Lure].”

“Right. Yes.” I set the box and fishing rod down in the sand, ignoring Keke’s searing glare. I reached into it with a thought, just as Keke told me to do.

Garden Lure.

Moments later, I felt something take shape in my palm. I pulled out the object, and sure enough, there it was. The [Garden Lure]. It was speckled green and white and shoddily put together. It looked like some third-grade art project.

I knelt in the sand, unlatched the plastic snap on the tackle box, and counted nine other lures. Sure enough, the [Garden Lure] was missing.

This was ridiculous. 

“Are you okay?” I heard Cannoli say. I looked up to see she was standing beside Keke, staring blankly at me. Try as I might, my eyes strayed to the white frills around her supple hips and modest bust. Her tail twitched behind her and her ears tilted forward as she eyed me curiously.

Yes. You do look wonderful, though.

“I’m fine.” I looked away in a flash, snapping shut the useless tackle box and stuffing it back inside the [Cat Pack]. “So, why the clothes?” I gestured to the offensive cacophony that was my outfit.

“Fish like bright colors! Blues, yellows, pinks, anything bright and colorful,” Cannoli answered cheerfully.

“Then where’s your outfit?”

Cannoli blushed, confidence wilting beneath her pale hair. “I don’t have one,” she replied through pursed lips.

“I see.” I turned to Keke. “Did you have to give me pink boots?”

“It was all we had,” Keke said with a shrug. Meanwhile, she looked like she was top of her [Fishing] class, dressed head to toe in colorful, professional-looking gear. A large hat screened her face from the sun, though her ears poked through two slots on the top. She wore a white, form-fitting t-shirt with a pair of blue overalls and boots that cut at the knee.

Me, on the other hand. Well. I looked like a hobo who had spent too much time around the local sporting goods shop doing dumpster dives after Tuesday clearance sales. I guess I had to start somewhere.

“Fine. So how do we do this?” I sighed.

Keke beckoned me with her hand, leading me to the shoreline with her own fishing rod and bait at the ready. Now that I was looking at it, hers was crafted from shining metals and plastics and jet black in color. Mine was of some sort of feeble wood—as if she’d torn it from the nearest tree. The damn thing didn’t even have a reel on it. At least the fishing line felt true to my old world.

I waded into the water, submerging my Pepto Bismol-pink boots up to the knee. Cannoli took a stance beside me, flashing a brilliant smile as she readied her (also wooden) fishing rod. I tipped the front end of my hat downward to block the sun’s rays, awaiting Keke’s further instructions.

“Ready?” Keke asked.

“Go ahead, Keke.”

“Watch and learn.”

With a lure nearly twice as large as mine and sporting at least three more hooks, Keke cast the line with expert precision. The line flew in a graceful arc, and, for a moment, I was worried that it would take Keke with it. The lure landed about ten yards away from us, dropping into the water with a plop. 

I whistled. “How long have you been doing this?”

“Oh, not long.” Keke fidgeted with the rod in her hands, averting my gaze.

“Liar, liar,” Cannoli sang.

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Whoa there, Cannoli. Tease her too much, and she’s going to drag you back in the net.

“I haven’t been fishing that long,” mumbled Keke.

“I’m sorry, what was that? Years now? Every day? Ah-ha, I thought so,” mused Cannoli.

“Cannoli!” Keke’s face turned a bright red, and for a moment, I couldn’t understand why. Then it hit me, and I gambled a guess.

“It doesn’t really matter to me how much experience you have.” I readied my twig-pole in front of me, ghastly images of hooking my own collar bone coming to mind. “I think it’s great.”

“A-ah. Thank you.” Keke seemed to calm down, so I assumed I’d read her correctly. That, or I just made myself look like a fool.

I shuffled my feet beneath the water. “Where were we?” I asked.

“Right.” Keke curled a lock of hair around her finger. I have to admit it was pretty cute. The sudden crack of a stick caught my attention.

“Oh. Oops. Don’t mind me.” Cannoli smiled as her hands disappeared behind her back.

“Uh. Yeah.” Did she just break her damn fishing rod?

“So, then.” Keke awarded Cannoli a worried glance before clearing her throat. “When you’re at the water’s edge, you should feel a… unique sensation. Like a movement beneath the surface. This is called the [Fisherman’s Sense].”

I concentrated. Here, fishy fishy. Nothing. “I don’t feel anything.”

“That’s normal.” She nodded.

“Alright.”

“Once you feel it, hold your rod with both hands and be ready to cast.”

“A reel would be helpful,” I noted, gesturing to her flawless spinning reel.

“You have to get the general feel for it first. Then I’ll show you where to get a better rod and tackle,” Keke explained.

“Yeah. We’ll have to get me a new rod, anyway,” Cannoli muttered. She swung her arm above her head and cast the line with the snapped section of her pole.

Keke sighed. “This is what happens every time.” She turned to me. “Just be patient. This can take a while.”

I chuckled and reset my feet. “That’s fine.”

I bent my hat down further and shut my eyes, focusing on the wind around me. The breeze was gentle. The salty air welcomed itself into my mouth, into my nostrils. For a while, I just zoned out. Whatever I was supposed to feel wasn’t coming. But the air sure was nice. I could feel a smile coming on, the hairs on my skin perking up happily at the sensation.

Then I felt it. At least, I think I did. My eyes snapped wide open, and for a few seconds, the water turned green as if someone had thrown a filter over my vision. It didn’t last long, but the green film allowed me to see a circle of gentle ripples.

Is that where the fish are?

“Matt? Did you feel—” Keke began.

“Shhh, wait,” I interrupted.

What happened at that moment was strange. It was as if my body became one with the environment. I cast the line toward the ripples without a second thought. To my surprise, it soared through the air, and I could feel my spirits flying high through the air with it.

“Yes! I did it!” My lure had struck the center of the collection of ripples. Whether I was on to something or if it was just dumb luck, I didn’t know and didn’t care. My line was out there with Keke’s! Ready to capture some unsuspecting sucker of a fish!

“Uhm, Matt?” Keke called.

“What? What’s wrong?”

Now that I was looking closer, I could see Keke was pointing at something. The end of my rod? What was…? Oh no.

“I see.” Similar to Cannoli’s fishing pole, the end of mine had somehow snapped clean off. Just a few yards away was the other end, floating hopelessly in the water like a lost dream. Like my lost dream. Dammit, I didn’t think I’d thrown it that hard. Were these things so fragile? I sighed. “Now what?”

“Now we run away,” Keke said.

“Wait, why?” I turned and saw Keke and Cannoli out of the water in mid-sprint, their gorgeous black and white tails blowing in the breeze.

“The [Fisherman’s Sense of Danger]! It has a chance to trigger whenever the fisherman fails a cast!” Keke shouted over her shoulder.

“Hurry, Matt!” waved Cannoli. “Or else it’ll get you!”

“What will get me?” I yelled back. But they were already too far away. 

Then, the ground shook with the step of something monstrous. A dark shadow breached the surface, and a roar penetrated the sky.

Don’t turn around. Just drop your rod, and run.

And so I did. I dropped my rod and ran as fast as I could, the panic in my throat too thick to look back at whatever was chasing me. 

Just what the hell was wrong with this world?

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Matt’s has gained: 1 Level of Fishing!