Leaf Litter

Omi was never one to be at a loss for what to do for very long. Even in dire situations, he could cook up some sort of plan to assist himself and his crew, and get out of a pinch. He liked to consider himself an asset to the team, even if he wouldn’t outright claim himself as such.

However, when Frankie's condition took a sudden and unexpected turn, the old captain couldn't have felt more adrift or lost. A pit had formed in his stomach when he had, for all intents and purposes, lost his most vital teammate.

The image was still locked in his mind, as vivid and alarming as it had been the first time. After an arduous fight with some stranger and his green hound, Omi could do nothing but watch as she was dragged away into a foreign Onion, and feel his heart overflow with fear when a multitude of leaves began to cover her face after she emerged.

He called and he called, but received no answer; just the droning ramblings of efficiency, survival, and practice. The leaves never seemed to stop growing, spilling over her face, covering her hair, and erasing anything that remained of his dear granddaughter.

Frankie was unrecognizable.

But ever loyal, the grandfather remained by her side, following her orders like any other Pikmin. He still called out to her now and again, but it was as if she couldn't hear. His words went right through her. Frankie wasn't there, replaced by something that gave him more fear than a herd of Spotty Bulbears.

When she was handedly defeated in battle, something she repeatedly called Dandori, she was taken away. Although the rest of the Pikmin crew had dispersed and returned to their onion, Omi remained and trailed behind the green-haired Hocotatian and her yellow dog. Their destination was a place that he and Frankie had not yet explored, and was filled with a vast disparity of people of all shapes, sizes, and races. Memories of old came flooding back to him, and he felt as though he were standing amongst old crewmates. Milling about and chatting, before he had gone off on his last recon mission…

If it weren't for his deep concern for Frankie, he would have fallen prey to hours upon hours of nostalgic recollection. Thankfully, the green-haired Hocotatian placed Frankie beneath a tent, among others who were covered in multicolored leaves, much like herself.

The purple Pikmin’s insides twisted, and as he approached her unconscious body with care, he could feel all eyes on him. He could hear them speaking of him, noting how odd it was for him to wander so far from the crew. The one who had managed to knock Frankie out noted that she thought she only had a certain number of Pikmin in her crew, and how she didn't recognize one as large and decorated as him.

He ignored these comments and fell to his knees beside his granddaughter, his little purple hands laid gently over her arm. She was perfectly still, and it made his stem curl with concern. He heaved a sigh, wondering if there was anything he could do. He had never seen anything like this, in all his years working with the Pikmin. And all things considered, it was rather frightening.

Just then, a different fellow with green hair approached and tried shooing him away, telling him that this was the work area, and he didn't need any Pikmin getting in the way.

Omi didn't budge; he stared up at the individual, looking somewhat disgruntled, but equally hopeful. Was this person able to cure her? He could only hope.

Eventually giving up, the green-haired fellow turned his attention to the other leaf-covered individuals beneath the tent; examining, writing, dictating, and moving from one individual to the other. A whole lot of nothing appeared to be happening, but Omi didn’t know much about the process a doctor had. Eventually, he was forcefully shoved out of the way, so the doctor could examine Frankie and get her vitals.

Omi finally conceded and backed away, his hands folded together as he watched on with anticipation. He could hear the deep concern from the other crew members–one of which was a woman with blonde hair. She was speaking to a red-haired man that bore a very disgruntled look upon his face. With a roll of his shoulders, he made a beeline directly for Omi, holding out his arms and trying to usher the Pikmin towards the onion in the middle of the field.

Narrowing his eyes, Omi merely stared at the red-haired man with his feet planted in place. He was acting as if he had taken root in that very spot. Clearly getting frustrated, the man tried to give Omi a powerful shove, but quickly found that the Pikmin’s stance was much more rock-like than he had anticipated.

The red-haired man gave up and stomped off. With both him and the doctor gone, Omi freely returned to Frankie's side.

The old captain sighed, folding his arms over his chest. He stared long and hard at her leaf-covered face, fear snaking into his heart once again. After getting her back, the thought of losing her again made him feel weary and dizzy. His mind buzzed with the thought of unbearable loneliness, even among the Pikmin. Losing the last family member he had access to…

He forcefully shoved that out of his mind. No, he couldn't lose hope. There was no way that Frankie would fall to something like this. She was far stronger than that, and far too brave! He had the utmost confidence in her, even if he didn't know how to feel about the crew that was meant to take care of her.

Gentle fingers went to the leaves that covered her face. With little force at all, he gave one leaf a simple tug, immediately summoning the doctor to try and scare him away. However, much like the red-haired man, the doctor was met with very little success, only receiving a scornful stare. And with that, the doctor stormed off to speak to the blonde-haired woman.

She walked off, leaving Omi to continue his own examination. He carefully and slowly started to pull back the leaves, trying to uncover Frankie's face beneath them all. However, no matter how many he pushed aside, he couldn't seem to make any progress. It felt like he was simply digging his hands into a bush.

His insides twisted again, feeling distress wash over him like floodwater. His eyes fell, and he slipped his fingers into her limp hand, saying a small prayer to the stars, hoping that she could return to him.

Surrounded by so many, he never felt more alone.

The sun was starting to get low in the sky, casting orange hues across the terrain, and deep shadows over the tent. He couldn't help but wonder what the protocol would be for dealing with these leaf-covered individuals. When night finally fell, he could only hope that these newcomers were smart enough to take the sick into their ship and bring them into low orbit with them. He drew in a breath, and puffed out a sigh. He hadn’t been this anxious about sunset in ages.

Footfalls sounded behind him, and Omi simply perked up slightly, not bothering to turn his head. That was when a shrill whistle fell upon his ears, making his entire body prickle, and calling his legs into action. His fingers tightened around Frankie's hand, muscles involuntarily tensing as he had to work hard to resist the pull of the whistle.

There was a grumble behind him, followed by two short consecutive whistles that sounded nothing short of impatient.

This sent sparks across his body, tingling up his stem and through his limbs. His flower twitched, his whiskers quivered, and his muscles cried out to move, yet he managed to resist again. However, this time he glared over his shoulder, narrowing his eyes at the green-haired woman that brought Frankie here in the first place.

She huffed and shook her head, deciding to leave him to it. However, her yellow dog remained behind, tilting its head to one side, and making a light whimper-like sound. Its claws scraped across the dirt as it approached, pressing its nose against his back. Omi grunted and pulled away, eyes planted on Frankie.

He didn't understand why these people weren't getting the picture; they really should just leave him alone. He wished he could communicate this with them, but past experiences with visiting Koppaites told him it wouldn’t work. How frustrating…

When he remained still, the yellow dog gave up as well, supposedly trotting away to catch up with the green-haired woman.

But now that it was just about sunset, the atmosphere of the camp was starting to shift significantly; everyone was making preparations for the night, collecting any stray items, making way for the ship, and calling the Pikmin back to their Onion.

Although he could resist the call of a whistle, he could not resist the call of his own onion. Although it was a fair distance away, he figured that he had just enough time to make it back and join his crew in its safety.

But he didn't want to leave Frankie behind.

Judging by the doctor's actions (gathering stretchers and calling for assistance), perhaps they did have appropriate protocol for sunset and the ill.

Rising to his feet, Omi said another prayer, asking the stars for Frankie's safety. Making way to leave camp, he could hear the blonde-haired woman exclaim in relief as he vanished into the nearby cave.