"Well..." There's a bashful cadence in his voice, like he's having to justify a report card. "...he's some guy I met on a mission, helpin' out one of the bosses. Asked for my help. Made the mistake of helpin' him, now he won't leave me alone whenever I get near water." Even he, for all his lack of social grace, understands how strange that must sound. He doesn't usually make friends. Even the people he drank and gambled with within the Hasegawa family were never more than acquaintances.[break]Perhaps the confusion clears up when they arrive at the preordained stretch of beach. Sitting near the shore, lazing in the shallow sands, is a Lapras. Judging by the scars and the wrinkles, this is an old specimen. The creature's eyes light up. His eyes pass between Yumi and Hitoshi. Something he sees in this eccentric pair makes the old creature beam.[break]"I told this old fart I was gonna split a watermelon with ya and he got all excited! Started trying to ask about ya, so I spilled the beans. Started insisting he wanted in on the fun." How much of that is accurate is hazy. Pokemon can't exactly talk, but these creatures are famed for their intelligence.[break]"But - er, yeah! Watermelon splittin'! Glad I gotcha away from that casino! You need a break!" Half-buried in the sand is a stick. Hitoshi draws the long pole as if it is a sword from a stone, swinging it with grace greater than any Galarian swordsman.[break]"This guy volunteered to help out. We'll set up the cardboard, but to make it interestin' this year, he's gonna bite down on a bit of rope the melon's tied too. Sorta turn it into one of those Paldean pinatas."

The old creature closes its weathered eyes and smiles at the woman. Manners are in such short supply, whether among people or Pokemon. He simply wades there, listening to the orders the woman gives.[break][break]They're not meant as orders, but that's how Hitoshi chooses to interpret them. With all the energy of an excited puppy, he sets about securing the watermelon with a thorough inlay of rope. Securing it with a knot, he offers one end to the Lapras. Thanks to his size, the watermelon is left dangling just above eye level.[break][break]"Now, it's just like Suikawari. Yer blindfolded. Ya take a spin." Hitoshi can spin perfectly well by himself, practically turning into an old Unovan cartoon character in his haste to demonstrate. Even wobbling like a drunkard, he has his senses. Snatching the stick from the shore, he swerves. Stills. Lets his ears guide him. He couldn't tell you a complicated math problem, but he can remember how the wind blows and understand what it means when it rolls over his skin.[break]"And ya hit it like this!" His arc is perfect. Hitoshi's arcs are never anything but. Yet the watermelon remains intact. He hears no thud, feels no fruit break.[break]At the last moment, the old Lapras lifted up the fruit just out of reach. Despite his great concentration on the task of keeping the rope in place, the edges of his mouth are raised in a toothless grin.[break][break]"Like this!" A second blow, mirroring the first, reversing the trajectory along the path he knows it should take.[break][break]"This!" Frustration builds as he decides to swing from below this time. The Lapras simply tilts its head.[break][break]"What gives, ya old fart?!" Hitoshi rips the blindfold off and curses up at the Lapras, who has left the watermelon drop so that he can give a deep, full-bellied laugh.

To the old fellow's credit, he tries to help her out. The nameless Lapras tries to guide her with grunts as best she can. He is no swordsman, but has watched Hitoshi enough to predict how people will swing. He hears the thump and giggles once more.[break]
Hitoshi loses his mind, like he always does. When she hits it, he jumps in the air. Cheering, he kicks sand everywhere.[break]
"Yeah-eeaaah! Go Yumi! Show that watermelon who's boss!" That she didn't so much as dent the thing doesn't matter to him. He's just happy someone shares in some version of his hobby. It's not proper swordplay, but who cares? It's fun, shared with the person he cares about.[break][break]
"C'mon! Hold it steady this time! I'm gettin' hungry!" He says as he redons the blindfold and is spun. Training takes some of the fun out of this. Listening to the waves as the world spins, he adjusts himself.[break][break]
"And---"[break]
"SMACK!" Lapras doesn't play any silly tricks this time. Watermelon viscera goes flying into the surf. The fruit splinters and lands on the cardboard Hitoshi put down.[break][break]
His stomach growls at the sight of the watermelon. Reaching down, he helps himself to a piece. Digging in, falling back in the sand. Everything feels normal for a few precious bites.[break][break]
"That was one helluva good swing!" He compliments her again with utmost sincerity. She can do no wrong after all the kindness she has given him. "Eat up!" Lapras steals a portion for himself, drifting off and letting the two talk. All the while, it's smile.[break]
"What're you smilin' about, codger?!" He berates the laughing Pokemon, who tilts his flipper in faux salute.

"Oh yeah?" He smiles, knowing this woman never says anything unless she's certain. The prospect of a small vacation perks him up. Watermelon, a warm day with Yumi, and no boring grunt work? It feels just like the old days.[break]
"Guess you'll be needin' yer bodyguard. No tellin' what kind of weirdos you'll meet on the street here." The smile evolves into a grin. Trotting up to his katana, he grabs it, fastens it to his belt right alongside the pokeballs he's been forced to adopt. Let someone try something while he has this.[break]
"Hard to find anywhere as good as that one place back in Goldenrod." Her dog bemoans the shifting tides of fate in his own way. He has as poor a memory for the names of establishments as he does people. Functions matter to him far more than human notions like names. Besides, he's only met three people whose names are import enough to remember.[break]
"They'd better have good vanilla." His eyebrow twitches, as if he would do more than yap if he found the vanilla insufficient. This strange creature's only hurt someone of his own volition once.[break]
Only when someone laughed at them, all those years ago.[break]
"We could catch a movie, too! One of the big summer blockbusters! Maybe there'll be a samurai flick." There won't be, just like there wasn't last year, or the year before that. Samurai movies are out of fashion. But he never gives up hope, lost in the present, happy for the company he keeps.