MAN! [short stories]

Naming Ceremony

Emmet stirred awake, the sounds of excited chittering and distant howling bringing him forth from slumber. The first thing he laid eyes upon was the painted walls of his cavern home, adored with fruit-dye pictures of buildings and Pokémon. The second thing he saw was a massive green head that suddenly took up the entirety of his field of view.
"Good morning!" Emmet greeted the young banshee, rubbing his eyes as the little ikran swished her tail in excitement.
"Uncle Emmet! C'mon," the nestling barked, gently prying at Emmet's limbs with her hook-like claws, "it's time! It's time! Hurry!"
"I'm up, I'm up! Come now, I need to perform my safety checks," Emmet chuckled, getting up to his feet. The banshee giddily leapt aside, her wings barely staying still at her sides as her alien Uncle adjusted his shirt and stretched his back with a yawn.
The sounds of youthful squawking from beyond the mouth of the cave told Emmet that the other two nestlings, both boys, were already awake and squabbling over Arceus-knows-what. The energy in the cave was palpable - the three children, almost big enough to stand taller than Emmet when rearing up, were clearly trembling with anticipation for the day ahead. It was to be the day they earn their crests.

Bright Throat had told him about this ceremony. For the banshees, no nestling gets their name until the crest upon their chin is developed and rigid. It coincides with the change of seasons and the coming of adolescence - the day their young can fly with some level of expertise and with minimal threat from the usual predators of baby banshees. It was a coming of age tradition, one that apparently meant a great deal to the flock. Emmet found himself honoured he was even invited to come along.

Refreshing his face with a splash of cool water that trickled through the cave's natural stream, Emmet found himself falling prey to the tangible hype that had gripped the children. His smile tugged at his cheeks a little harder and his hands twitched and flapped against his chest. Only when long teeth nipped at his trouser leg did he realise one of the children had decided their dear Uncle was taking far too long.
It was one of the boys, apparently bored with rough-housing and instead wanting to get the day started. His blue wings flared at his sides as he grunted with a mouthful of fabric.

Only the call of their returning father had the kids standing straight and at full alert with their eyes wide open. The mighty screech of Bright Throat carried through the cave, echoing off the walls as he came in to land at the cave's entrance. Emmet and the children scrambled to meet the full-grown ikran at their front door.

"Ma pxeveng! Ma Emmet!" Bright Throat trilled, craning his neck down to nuzzle his excitable children, "Good to see you are all awake. Come now, it has already begun!"

🪐

Climbing down from the rocky crevasse that Emmet had called home for the last year was no longer the strenuous exercise it used to be - at this point, it was like taking the bus to work. Grasp at the spiralling rocks that floated by the entrance, slide down the thick vines to the lower mountaintop, and then leap down onto the rookery path. Muscle memory. He didn't even need to think for his feet to land where they needed.

The three children clambered down behind him, all following Bright Throat and Emmet as they powered ahead.
"Uncle Emmet! It's not fair, you're too fast!" one of the boys called out, shuffling awkwardly on all four wings. Emmet couldn't help but laugh, turning around and striding backwards in confidence as the young banshees gasped in awe.
"Skill issue! Come on, catch up!" Emmet teased, throwing up finger guns to the youth before spinning back around and closing the distance to Bright Throat. The older banshee was watching with his secondary eyes, peering behind him with a dedicated vigilance. Emmet knew why - Bright Throat was a worrier, always concerned with what if's. Thankfully there was a simple fix.
Pulling one of his Pokéballs out from his pants pocket, Emmet let loose the feathered fiend he called a partner: Archeops. The winged Pokémon knew his role by now, immediately flapping over to the three children who all chittered cheerfully at the bird.