When is a Spoon a Sword? (Pokemon OC-Insert)

Aaron's Pokemon

- Artoria (Kirlia)
- Jeanne (Flaaffy)
- Durvasa (Mankey)
- Pickled (Egg)
- Magellan (Chikorita)

Fish 4.15

Aaron Fulan
Rustboro City

The chat with my family went about well as could be expected. They were worried. Dad asked me if I was alright and said he could have Astro, his clefable, tutor Artoria on fae aura if I wanted. Mom gave me a lecture about safety, forest navigation, and how I could expand the range of my empathic senses so this didn't happen again. Tate and Liza bragged about how they could lift dad's car when working together now, but only for a second or two. I bragged that I could trade swords with a scyther, but also only for three or four seconds.

Which made me superior by two whole seconds, naturally. A big brother must keep up appearances.

The next morning, I got called down to the pokemon center's mail room. There, I found a TM for Fire Punch waiting for me, alongside a note that simply read, "Don't die."

It was such a mom thing to do that it made me chuckle. It reminded me of the burn cream incident, when I found my drawers full of the stuff after burning myself trying to start a fire in trainer school.

Mom cared, in her own, laughably awkward way. She probably meant for me to have better options against bug types, if I ever needed to roast a scizor. Given that all three of my currently active team could learn the move, I was eager to use it as a way to introduce my team to an energy type they weren't familiar with.

I took my team to the battlefields in the central quad. As was our custom, it was early morning but I was far from alone. This was a huge pokemon center and I was hardly the only one who rose with the dawn.

First things first, I wanted to get Magellan settled. I had an image in my mind of the kind of meganium he would be one day. I wanted him to be our utility bruiser, a pokemon who could take on a defensive role with moves like Light Screen, Reflect, and Leech Seed while also dishing out damage with Petal Blizzard, Earthquake, and Outrage.

His goal would be to use sweeping, area denial attacks to force enemies into a slugfest, a battle of attrition that best exploited the advantages of the grass type. And should he fall, he'd prepare the field for the team, helping us to maintain our offensive momentum. Given his large size and personality, I thought this type of "build" would be a good fit for him.

But that was a long way off. For now, I had to keep things simple so as to not exacerbate his injuries. To that end, my backpack was filled with puzzles and blocks I'd looted from the pokemon center's nursery.

I released the oversized chikorita on a nearby bench so he could watch us. I looked down at him expectantly. "You're going to riot if I tell you to sit out, aren't you?"

The ornery dinosaur looked up at me like I was an idiot. "Chi."

"Yeah, thought so. We can't do anything too strenuous, though. I'm going to teach you Protect from my TM, okay?"

"Chiko?"

"It's a powerful but stamina-intensive defensive move that creates a force field around you. All my pokemon know it because using it at the right moment can turn the entire battle. And, since it doesn't require you to physically move, you're going to master it in the next few days."

"Chi." He nodded with a determined scowl.

I returned him into his pokeball, downloaded the TM, and set him to work. Digging around in my backpack, I set a Rubik's cube in front of him. "You're going to work on duration first. Get used to the feeling of keeping the shield up for as long as possible. Then, when you're too tired to do that, use your vines to solve this. The goal is to adjust the cube until all six sides have only one color."

"Chi-Chikorita?"

"Why?"

"Ko."

"Your vines are great for, say, grabbing berries from trees, but I want them to be more dexterous. Control is just as important as raw power. If you think it's so easy, solve it. Then we can move on to more challenging tasks."

"Chikorita."

I nodded. I knew that he'd take that as a personal challenge. I looked around at the rest of my team to find that same burning determination in their eyes. If nothing else, my team wasn't lacking in motivation.

"Jeanne, we have five days until the contest so you and I will be working together. Hold off for a bit, okay?"

"Flaaf."

"Artoria, I'm going to give you a choice: Do you want to pick up Fire Punch? Mom sent the TM over this morning. Or, do you want to meditate to get your Excali-Spoon perfected?"

'I shall meditate, my lord. I would much prefer mastery in one task before moving on to the next,' she said calmly. She wasn't reacting to my silly names anymore, a true tragedy. I would have to find other ways to tease her. 'Please don't.'

So saying, she headed off to a corner to center herself. "Well, that leaves you, Durvasa. Would you like to learn Fire Punch? Or I can pull up a karate kata you can copy. Or maybe brush up on your reading more? You could also benefit from more practice at ranged combat."

Durvasa grunted and began to scratch at the ground. First, "one," then "two." I smiled; despite his simmering rage, he was a fast learner. He wouldn't be a calligrapher anytime soon, but I thought his writings looked about as neat as dad's chicken scratch.

"Nice, so you want to learn Fire Punch and go through the katas at the same time? That's doable. Try to keep your hands lit for as long as you can."

Tasks doled out for the morning, I pulled Jeanne aside so I could work with her more directly. My little lamb was not so little anymore. I'd met her near Mauville, but she was quite a bit bigger than the little mareep I remembered. Much more muscled, too. Though she wasn't as gung ho about battling as Artoria and Durvasa, no one could say she didn't put in the hours.

I'd had some time to think about what I wanted to do for future contests. In Verdanturf, I was told by the judges that Jeanne did fine, but I was somewhat bland. I stood back and gave orders like, well, like a trainer. A coordinator's style was a bit flashier than that. Considering the current Grand Coordinator was Wallace, who looked like he'd stepped out of a high fashion magazine, and Lisia, the next big thing, would be the poke-world's equivalent of a popstar, I certainly understood what they were talking about.

And yet, seeing and being were two different things.

The truth was, I wasn't a fashion model. I wasn't hideous, but I lacked Wallace's ethereal charisma or Lisia's heart-stopping beauty. Nor was I a singer, thespian, or dancer. Hell, I didn't think I could pull off Chaz's pompous arrogance even. None of those things were me.

I was a swordsman. From as young as I was able to the very moment I died, I dedicated myself to the sword. And when I got a new chance at life, the first thing I did was beg mom for "Kantoan" kendo lessons, something she indulged with dad's prodding. I lived and quite literally died by my sword, only to take up the art again.

So why couldn't that be my performance? What was lacking about a swordsman's dignity? So long as I could improve my swordsmanship, did I really care whether something was performative or not?

No, no I didn't. So, perhaps not this contest, but… maybe in the future…

"You know, Jeanne?"

"Flaaf?"

"I wonder what would happen if I introduced Beat Saber to this world?"

"Flaaffy?"

"Show me your Electro Ball."

"Flaaf," she nodded.

It formed within a second, a sign of her increasing mastery. The ball spun swiftly, an imperfect copy of the Rasengan. Or perhaps, more perfect than Naruto had at the start? After all, Jeanne didn't need to add an element to it. Either way, it lacked the density and merely dispersed rather than grind a target to dust. Still, not bad for a work in progress.

I slid into a familiar stance. Iaido, or battojutsu, was perhaps the most dramatized sword technique in fiction, but wasn't I in a fictional world? Didn't I have access to aura? What was keeping me from pulling all the fantasy nonsense I wanted from my ass?

If there was one thing I had absolute confidence in, it was my sword. I wouldn't doubt myself now. What was it Artoria said? She would cleave mountains? Whether that was doable for a human or not, it sounded like a fine goal to aspire to, a very Aaron goal.

"Good, now toss it in the air."

When she did so, I tracked it for a moment before lashing out. My sword, suffused with my aura to make up for its lack of an edge, became an azure flash in the air. It cleaved the Electro Ball perfectly in half, sending a shower of sparks along the arc of the blade.

"Flaaffy!" Jeanne cheered, tail thumping against the ground. "Flaaf?"

"Are we going to do this in the contest?"

"Flaaf."

"Maybe? But not more than once." I shook out my hand with a rueful smile. "I wasn't sure how much feedback I'd get, but some of the shock carried through the sword. It is metal after all."

"Flaaf," she bleated in disappointment.

"Hey, don't worry. It doesn't hurt much, just a sting. Think of this as a proof of concept. One day, when I become good enough at this reinforcement stuff and you master a few songs, we'll have a choreographed duel on stage, set to music and everything."

"Flaaffy? Flaaf!"

"Good, let's get to work. I know Mary Had a Little Lamb isn't much, but it's a start. We'll work up from there, okay?"

And so, we practiced. Jeanne had no special talent when it came to music, but she did have dedication and stubbornness in spades. This was the sole tune she could play, but it was becoming smoother and clearer with each repetition.

Once she had the song down pat, we threw in elements from her old routine. Her wool held its charge at different frequencies, changing the tune from when she used Electro Ball to make her music. Some notes had to be struck with Cotton Spore instead of Electro Ball, and vice versa, but Jeanne simply accepted that as a coordination exercise.

We still used Electric Terrain, but it now served as more than a ground-bound spotlight. It was also our bass. As a flaaffy, her tail was much longer and more articulate than a mareep's. By storing the opposite charge in her tail bulb as the ground, she could make a droning, buzzing sound that changed with the bulb's proximity to the ground.

As for me, I was taking a crash course in conducting. There were enough tutorials online that, hopefully, I wouldn't look completely ridiculous by the time the contest rolled around. The intricacies of the profession flew far above my head, but I could pick up the basics well enough.

For example, there was no hard and fast rule about batons. Many preferred bare hands and so would I. The right hand was used to keep the flow of music steady while the left should remain still, not mirror the right. That way, the left hand could be used for emphasis or for cues to bring in new sections of the orchestra.

This wasn't an orchestra and there were no other sections of course, but Jeanne did have a tail. I could use my left hand to introduce the droning bass, and also teach her to control its volume, or power output, by following the elevation of my hand. It wasn't perfect; I was so green that Magellan might bite me by accident, but damn if the look of pure delight on Jeanne didn't make it all worthwhile.

My outfit would also need a makeover. I'd have to ditch the comfy cargo pants I preferred for traveling. The Mossdeep Gym's logo needed to stay of course, but I would also be foregoing its uniform. Really, who decided on a hybrid of sweats and yi fu, anyway?

Instead, I made a note to buy myself a new outfit when I could find the time, maybe a pair of charcoal-gray slacks and a matching blazer with a royal-blue shirt for a splash of color. I did need to pay homage to my home, so I'd attach a pin with the gym's emblem to my breast pocket. It didn't exactly scream out my personality to the world like Lisia's outfit, but it was better than what I wore in the previous contests. The least I could do was look professional.

X

We spent three days training like madmen. Artoria spent most of that time in an introspective mood, learning to harness the inner selfishness of the fae. It was not uncommon to find her staying up at night, staring up at the moon that called to her kind. And when she wasn't doing that, she was teaching Durvasa to read.

My sage had taken to the literary arts in fits and starts. His lack of patience was something we'd already expected. His stubbornness easily outstripped his impatience however, and he forced himself to focus, expanding his mind as much as his body. Not only did he master Fire Punch to an acceptable level, he was able to write simple sentences to me. To reward him, I got him an e-reader of his own so I could download articles for him to read when we were on the road.

Halfway through the second day, Magellan completed his Rubik's cube. He also got good enough to cut a deck of cards without spilling any with his vines.

As promised, I upped his training by introducing the team to a familiar exercise. Five aluminum cans were posted behind Magellan. He was to play goalie with Vine Whip while Durvasa tried to strike them down with Swift. It was a win-win: Durvasa could practice his accuracy with his sole ranged attack. Magellan could get in some valuable practice without having to move.

Then, three days after I arrived in Rustboro and two days before the contest, Lisia and Chaz reached Rustboro. They were able to grab rooms at the pokemon center I was staying in, something that turned out to be a mixed blessing.

"Do you do this every morning, Aaron?" I heard Lisia behind me as Artoria and I bowed to each other. She'd been kind enough to wait for us to finish our current set.

We were in one corner of the quad, practicing the gohon-me, the fifth of seven orthodox kendo kata that pit tachi against tachi. We'd been up for an hour and a half already and had been going through the fifth for almost as long. It was good to dedicate a day to a single kata on occasion to lock it into our memories.

Interestingly enough, the Kantoan kendo I learned from dad's contact in Mossdeep used almost the same katas I remembered learning in my past life. There were subtle differences, but the similarities were somewhat disappointing. I'd hoped that with far more dangerous fauna and the provable existence of aura, the sword arts of this world would be more advanced. The similarities told me that kendo had largely been relegated to a ceremonial sport, much as in my past life.

If I wanted to become a true anime swordsman, with all the ridiculousness that implied, I'd have to figure things out on my own. It was a goal of mine, one I had a feeling would come naturally as I helped my team achieve their own dreams.

I turned to Lisia with a smile. She had seemingly made fast friends with Jeanne; my lamb was leaning into her hand, begging for headpats. Durvasa sat a ways off, reading a Petalburg wilderness guide, while Magellan eyed us with intense envy. Not being able to move was driving the poor dino spare.

All around Lisia were four pokemon, hers presumably. Ali the swablu was a given. He perched atop his mistress' head like a fluffy hat and softly trilled a soothing song. On her lap, competing for her headpats with Jeanne, was a clamperl that seemed cheerful despite being out of water. A ducklett sat opposite Jeanne, pruning its feathers as it looked at us with detached interest. Finally, a slugma bubbled on the ground by her feet, close enough to warm her feet but far enough to not scorch her without having to leash its own heat.

I walked over to my bag and pulled out two towels before tossing one to Artoria. "Every morning. Thanks for waiting, by the way. I appreciate you not cutting in mid-practice."

She shook her head in denial, her sea-green tresses bouncing merrily. "No, I should be the one thank you for letting us watch. That was incredible! I can tell you and Artoria practiced a ton!"

"We do. Are these your teammates?"

"Yup! Let me introduce you! You know Ali of course. This little gal on my lap is Pearl."

"Not very creative."

"Hey, she likes the name so it's fine."

"Of course, that's the most important thing. How about the others? A ducklett and a slugma, huh?"

"Grace and Ruby. Grace is a sweetheart, even if she likes her space. Ruby would give me a hug every moment of every day if he could, but he's not quite that good at controlling what he burns just yet. He's the youngest on the team so he has time."

"I'll bet. How'd you find a clamperl though? I thought those lived far below the sea."

"Uncle Wall sent her over. She's the daughter of my uncle's walrein and his gym trainer's gorebyss. He's been looking for a good trainer for a while and said she's more interested in contests than battling so we were a perfect match!" she chirped happily.

She then proceeded to tell me about how she met Grace and Ruby as well. The slugma was definitely the odd one out. A swanna and gorebyss fit Lisia thematically and I could see the two becoming excellent contest pokemon, but I had no idea what she planned to do with a magcargo. They weren't exactly known for "star power."

Then again, if anyone could make it happen, it was this girl in front of me. Lisia Mikuri was a superstar in the making. And, like anyone else who stood atop the pokemon world, it would be because she was amazing, because she could bring out the best in her team, not merely because she happened to have the right pokemon. I looked forward to seeing her team's growth.

"Where's Chaz?" I asked. The two had arrived the night prior, just in time to catch my evening training. The prickly boy had been quite shocked when he saw me trying to stab Durvasa with a sword to hone his Detect. He'd called me an uncouth boor and hadn't spoken to me since.

"Ehehe, he doesn't usually wake up until ten."

I struggled to understand. I felt my respect for the boy dropping already. "How? How does he find the time to travel and train if he doesn't wake up early? He's losing a good four hours of daylight."

"We… don't? We took a helicopter over Mt. Chimney, Aaron."

"You're kidding. Why?"

"Hey, some of us don't like walking for eight hours a day," she huffed.

"Fine, but I still think he should wake up early enough to at least train his machop."

"He practices his routine in the afternoon."

That didn't feel right. Many pokemon lived for battle. Or if not, then self-improvement of some sort. They were naturally competitive, at least in their youth. The idea that Chaz would spend most of his day not training seemed insane, half-hearted, like he wasn't truly serious about being a trainer.

'I'm not pushing you all too hard, am I?' I asked Artoria, feeling a little self-conscious. Was I the weird one? Was I the one who was being unreasonable?

'Of course not, my lord. Do you believe any of us would really sit still for most of a day?'

'No, I guess not.'

'It helps that not all of our training sessions require physical exertion. I meditate, as does Duravasa. We read. Jeanne practices music.'

'That's true. I guess it feels weird to hear that my so-called rival in the contest circuit doesn't train as hard.'

She sniffed at that. 'He is hardly a rival. Lisia is far worthier of that title, as was Onale the bard.'

I was brought out of our conversation by Lisia waving a hand over my face. "Hello~ Aaron? Are you and Artoria having a private conversation again?"

"Ah, sorry," I said. "I was just wondering if other people only trained once per day like Chaz. He also seemed pretty upset when he saw me swing at Durvasa yesterday."

"I train every morning and evening. And I've seen Uncle Wall's elite team train too. They hit each other way harder than you hit Durvasa. I mean, yeah, he's not evolved yet, but pokemon are tough," she shrugged. "I'm not bothered by your methods if that's what you're asking."

"Okay, because I remember mom's elite team as well. So maybe it's just a cultural difference."

"Probably? Are you ready for the contest?"

"I am. I still need to buy a suit though. I haven't had time yet, what with making some last minute edits to our routine and our regular training."

Her eyes sparkled at that. She grabbed me by the arm and shot to her feet. "Yes! We can grab lunch and then tour the city. Oh, and get you a proper outfit of course."

"Lisia, I'm not going to be your dress-up doll," I said patiently.

"They all say that. Don't worry, Aaron, I'm a style expert."

"'They?' Who's 'they?'"

"Everyone. Who do you think does Uncle Wall's hair?"

"His professional, highly qualified, laughably overpaid stylist."

"Well, yes, but I also learned!"

"And what does that have to do with clothes?"

She looked at me like I was a filthy stray, picked up from the pouring rain out of the goodness of her heart and brought in from the cold. She placed a comforting hand on my shoulder. "Oh, Aaron, you have so much to learn."

I looked into her eyes, so pure and sweet, and came to a single, undeniable conclusion: "I'm in danger."

Author's Note

Did you know meganium can learn Swords Dance? And Outrage? It's terrible in competitive play, but it's an option. Thankfully, I don't have to care about competitive.

Yi fu is what you call a kung fu uniform, just like a karate uniform is called a gi. For whatever reason, Nintendo decided that Tate and Liza should wear a matching set.

Wallace does indeed have a walrein, though only in the PWT in gen5.

Hey. Hey, you. Yeah, you. Wanna hear something funny?

See, there were three mice brothers. One day, they were exploring an abandoned home and found a bottle. To their shock, a genie emerged from the bottle and said, "Whoever released me may have three wishes."

The oldest mouse shook his head. He said, "We are brothers. We should each share one wish."

So, the genie agreed. He looked at the oldest mouse. "Okay, what do you want?"

"I would like to be mighty and strong so I can protect my little brothers. Please make me an ox."

"Granted." And so, the oldest brother became an ox.

The second mouse stepped forward. He said, "Genie, I've always loved the sky. I know it's dangerous, but I've always wanted to fly. Please make me a bird."

"Granted." And so, the middle brother became a bird.

The youngest mouse looked at the genie, then at himself. "I'm sorry, but I'm not sure what I want. I love being a mouse; we're sneaky and fast, but my brothers are also right. Being strong, being able to fly, they're both wonderful. Can I be all of them?"

The genie nods. "Your wish is my command."

And so, the youngest mouse became a sausage.

Funny, right? No? I promise it's funnier if you speak Korean.

Thank you to all of my patrons. As many of you know, I update at least once a week. That said, I update much more frequently on Pat-re-on. If you would like to drop a tip, read my stories early, or vote in monthly polls, come and visit.

As of now, this is how far along each story is:

- A Colorful Life: 33
- A Life Worth Living: 7
- Homeless Bunny: 28
- Legendary Tinker: 9.2
- Plan? What Plan?: 5.7
- Pokemon: Apocalypse: 2.1
- The Holy Grill: 3.3
- Troll in the Dungeon!: 28
- When is a Spoon a Sword?: 5.1
- Let There be War: 9 (Complete)
- Snippets & Omake Exclusives: 12

Total Chapter Difference (Pat-re-on - Public): 43

Aaron's Pokemon

- Artoria (Kirlia)
- Jeanne (Flaaffy)
- Durvasa (Mankey)
- Soft-Boiled (Egg)
- Magellan (Chikorita)

Fish 4.16

Aaron Fulan
Rustboro City

Lisia and I spent the morning doing some light training. Apparently, seeing my team work hard pushed hers to not fall behind. It was a good opportunity to watch someone else train, someone who had a distinctly different philosophy when it came to our shared profession.

Wallace excluded, there really was a distinct difference between coordinators and trainers. The League made no distinction between battlers and coordinators, we were all "trainers," but it didn't need to. The populace did that well enough without an official ruling.

In short, I saw my team, and myself, as swords that needed to be sharpened. We honed ourselves to a razor's edge through dedicated repetition, like a sword being scraped along a whetstone countless times until the swordsmith was satisfied. To that end, iron will and steel-like discipline were the things that defined my training. Even when I set up little games for my pokemon to play, there were ironclad rules and clear objectives.

Not so with Lisia. If I was a swordsmith honing my pokemon, Lisia was a painter, an artist standing before a blank canvas. To my shock, she gave few orders. She literally told her team, "Dance! Do whatever comes naturally to you. Use moves that resonate with you!"

She was like one of those impressionist painters who began each masterpiece by grabbing random pails of paint and chucking them against the wall. The hilarious part of it all was that it worked.

She would look at each pokemon for a moment, then come up with choreography that best used their unique body types and abilities. Like a painter who began with the background and slowly filled in the details, she focused down on the strengths of her team to bring out their best qualities.

When Ruby the slugma breathed out a violet cloud of poison, she gently urged him weave ribbons of it. She had Ali using his wind and mist to disperse it unevenly, forming a purple and blue aurora around us that had us spellbound.

It was awe-inspiring. It was something I'd never seen before. Mother was so structured, psychic discipline and willpower that coordinated her training sessions with ruthless efficiency. Pops was full of wonder, always looking to the heavens with a scientific curiosity that I could never match. I was a sword, refined but cutting.

Lisia's style was something I'd never seen before, something I'd never thought possible before. She told me that she had more structured moments, but she enjoyed doing this exercise to come up with new combinations, new choreographies that would take the judges' breath away. Her eyes positively sparkled with passion as she coached her team, as she painted a masterpiece.

In that moment, I saw it: This was what made Lisia splendid. She didn't become a star in canon because she was beautiful, though she was that. Nor did she coast off her uncle's reputation. No, it was her ability to coax beauty out of chaos that truly made her stand out. Like a master painter, she could see the finished product amidst splotches of color.

She had vision.

Our training session came to an end when Chaz woke up and graced us with his presence. He was well-dressed in his trademark blue suit, with not a hair out of place. At his side was Macherie the machop, still wearing an oversized pink bow. He also had a venonat named Veronique and a growlithe named Smolder, two more pokemon than I'd expected.

"Good morning, Lisia, Aaron," he called.

"It's almost noon, Chaz," she replied with a giggle.

"And thus it's still morning, no? It takes effort to look this good, you know," he said, tossing his head and causing his hair to flip to the side. Like straight out of a shampoo commercial. I didn't know people actually did that.

"Of course, of course. Have you had breakfast yet? Aaron and I were going to grab lunch soon before going shopping. He doesn't have his contest outfit yet."

Chaz gasped as though that personally offended him. "How? Lisia said you have a ribbon already!"

I shrugged. "I mostly compete in my Mossdeep Gym uniform. Getting a new outfit really hasn't been a priority. The important part is that I show off my sponsor anyway."

"You are such a boor. How can you expect the judges to see you at your best if you won't even put in the effort to dress well?"

"By the skill and strength of my pokemon. Jeanne's the one competing."

"I pity her for having such a boor for a trainer."

"And I pity Macherie for having a fop who can't even fight as hers."

"Excuse me?"

"She's a fighting type. Throwing hands is in her blood. She'd probably be thrilled to start training seriously."

"We do train seriously!"

I sideyed him with a languid smile. "Care to back that talk? There's a difference between practicing a choreographed routine and learning to fight. I'd bet money on Durvasa over Macherie any day of the week even though you've had your machop a lot longer than I've had my mankey."

"Now, now, boys, you're both pretty," Lisia cut in before we could really start to argue. She grabbed us both by the arm and began to drag us off.

X

I learned three things about Chaz Rosemund that day: First, like Lisia and I, he was a product of his environment. He looked like a pompous, diamond spoon brat because that's exactly what he was. Apparently, Rosemund Enterprises was a major investor in the advertising, cosmetics, and public relations industries. His family has had a finger in the contest circuit pie for twenty years now. Though his family wasn't known for being pokemon trainers, it had its sphere of influence.

Second, Chaz Rosemund had no idea how to interact with people outside of his elite social clubs. I found that out when he insisted on hearing my ideas for a costume. To my surprise, he worked with Lisia to give me a few recommendations, peppered with plenty of backhanded compliments. It took me a while to realize that he was even trying to help at all, what with him constantly calling me a "styleless boor" and "sword-idiot." I tried not to take offense; he was right after all.

I quickly figured out that a charcoal-gray suit with a blue shirt would just make me look like an inverse of Chaz and scrapped the idea. With their help, I settled on a fitted suit of mostly grays and blacks with muted, pink and blue accents that would match the Mossdeep Gym logo.

Lisia also got me a bandana to wrap around my neck. It was dark-blue with the Mossdeep badge embroidered throughout for "contrast and a pop of color," not that I had a clue what she was talking about, or why I needed that and a tie. Then again, when Hoenn's next pop idol gave you style advice, you didn't say no.

The grudging admission of "tolerable," was probably as best as I'd ever get from Chaz.

Third, Chaz had it bad for Lisia. It was so painfully obvious that I could only assume Lisia was as dense as a black hole; there was no other way she could have missed his pining. Or maybe she did know, didn't know how she wanted to respond to a friend having such a blatant crush, and was going with the tried-and-true ostrich approach. She was, no matter how talented, still just a thirteen year old girl after all.

After lunch, I took them to a rock candy store, a Rustboro specialty. The originals were apparently made with mountain springwater that made them rich in minerals beyond just sugar. They were also supposed to be consumed when a mother learned she was expecting so that her children would be "as stout as stone and as sweet as sugar."

Or maybe the shopkeeper was lying to me. Either could be true, to be honest.

These weren't anything special, just sugar crystals hardened and flavored via evaporating syrup, but they looked really pretty. The priciest crystal candies were shaped into gems and fitted onto necklaces and tiaras made of brass that children could wear, though the shopkeeper did say they could get sticky in the sun and warned us not to take them out of their wrappers. To the untrained eye, they really did look like precious stones.

I picked out a few "sapphires" and "pink amethysts" that reminded me of the gym and the twins. "They're very pretty, mister. Do you have any that fit into gift boxes?"

"Of course," the old man said. He could smell a sale. "Who's it for? Maybe that lovely, young lady behind you?"

"They're for my family in Mossdeep. These can be shipped just fine, right?"

"Yes, they can. How many would you like?"

"Four. Two for my younger siblings and two for my parents."

"That was really sweet of you, Aaron," Lisia said as we walked away. We had smaller sticks of rock candy that we were sucking on. "How are Tate and Liza?"

"They're great. I'm pretty sure Tate's winning their prank war. Liza's not sneaky enough to get around Tate's precognition."

"H-Hey, Lisia?" Chaz said, tapping her shoulder. He had a rock candy necklace of his own, studded with sugar crystals that looked like turquoise gems. "I got you this. They reminded me of you. Your eyes are the same shade, and even more beautiful."

I had to give him props. He managed to say that with barely a stutter. I didn't think I was that confident at thirteen.

Lisia took it with a confused smile that quickly transformed into bubbly cheer. "Oh, thanks? How'd you know I have a sweet tooth? I'll be nibbling on these for a week. Oh! Let me pay you back! This looks really expensive!"

"No, I couldn't. It's a gif-"

"I insist!" Lisia said, practically shoving the money in Chaz's suit pocket. She browbeat Chaz with the force of her personality, forcing him to take the money and turning what could have been a romantic gesture into a snack between friends.

It went like that for a while. Everywhere we went, Chaz tried some way to impress her, whether it was with treats or trying to show he was the best at the arcade. I was pretty sure he pulled a muscle on the punching machine. His questions to a traditional tea merchant about the language of teas and flowers, and romance in particular, were especially cringe-inducing.

For her part, Lisia deflected his attempts at seduction like a master fencer. Had this been a duel of swords, I would have declared her a prodigy and offered her lessons. There was affection in her aura, but that was directed towards us both so I had to assume it was platonic. There was also a hefty dose of uncertainty whenever she used her bubbliness as a shield.

Had she been genuinely uncomfortable with Chaz, I might have intervened, but I saw the awkward dance of two teenagers who had no idea what to do with their feelings. I, being the wizened elder that I was, opted to enjoy their mutual suffering and laugh at them later.

The courtship dance of the wild Hoenn teenager aside, that tea merchant was a real treat. She was old and gray, with hair as white as her shiftry's. After some smooth-talking, I got to try a unique experience: shiftry tea. Her partner of many decades literally dipped his hand inside a teapot to steep his fan-leaves. A few minutes later, I had a steaming cup of the stuff.

The flavor was difficult to put into words. I was no great connoisseur of tea, but my time in Japan did make me rather familiar with the stuff. I'd become a fan of ochazuke in particular. The flavor was minty and sharp, with a brightness that couldn't be found in normal, dried or roasted teas. It was an experience I'd never had before, and one that made me wonder what Magellan tea would taste like.

"So how was the Feather Carnival?" I asked Lisia. "You said you'd tell me all about it once we met up."

"Oh, yeah! Thanks for reminding me, Aaron," she chirped. We were seated on a park bench, our pokemon let out to play. "I learned so much from just watching Winona. Did you know that the difference between a flying type and a pokemon who happens to be able to fly is their innate mastery over the wind?"

"I mean, I'd assume so? That affinity is what distinguishes psychics too, or any other type for that matter."

"Well, yeah, but seeing it was something else. Her swellow, the one on her elite team, was sooo awesome! Like, she used Quick Attacks at supersonic speeds to make her own drumline!"

"Wait, how does that work? Wouldn't all sonic booms sound the same?"

"Not if swellow outraces its own sonic booms and uses Boomburst at the same time to set a different tempo. The impression we get on the ground is an entire drumline taking place in the sky."

"That sounds incredible. I didn't know Winona had any interest in music. Could a skarmory's feathers be used to mimic cymbals then?"

"Yup! She did that too. The amount of control that takes… Wow, I have goosebumps even thinking back to that," she said with a happy shiver. "How about you? How was Petalburg Woods? You walked the whole thing, right?"

"Kinda? I did the first time from Verdanturf to Oldale. I got my ribbon there. Then, I got my second badge from Norman and headed up through Petalburg again to Rustboro. But on that second trip, I ended up getting involved in an anti-poaching operation with the rangers. Fought some people, crossed swords with a scyther, it was wild."

"You crossed swords… with a scyther…?" she asked, trying to make sense of that statement.

"Poachers stirred up the local scyther swarm and they started attacking humans indiscriminately. I didn't really have a choice."

"Yeah, right. A human can't beat a scyther," Chaz scoffed. "I might have believed you if you said your kirlia beat a scyther."

"I don't lie, Chaz, not about things like this. Besides, how else would you explain Magellan there? He's one of the pokemon the rangers and I saved. He wanted to come with me and I'll be training him in earnest once his spine heals."

"I can believe you found an injured chikorita, maybe even that you helped the rangers with something, but humans can't beat pokemon, Aaron."

"I never said I beat a scyther. I said I crossed blades with one, and only for a few seconds. Honestly? If Ranger Acosta didn't arrive to save our asses, we'd probably be dead. We ran into the poachers a few days after that, only to find they'd cornered several chikorita. That's when my team intervened."

"That still sounds like nonsense. I mean, finding a Johto starter in Petalburg is already incredibly fortunate."

I nodded. He was right, to be honest. The regions were open to travel, but that didn't mean it was common. Trainers did, and some pokemon too, but starters were starters because they were rare even in their native regions. And chikorita weren't exactly the kind of species known for bouts of wanderlust.

"Then don't believe me. I maintain that everything I said happened, happened," I said with a shrug. I had nothing to prove, not to him. "Anyway, after we saved the chikorita, we waited for the rangers and Ranger Acosta was kind enough to fly us the rest of the way here so I didn't walk the whole forest the second time around."

"Sounds exciting," Lisia said. "I'm kinda with Chaz on this one though. That story's a little hard to believe."

"Suit yourselves. I agree that sounds like a lot." I opted not to mention the mega stone. Or how I ended up saving Norman Maple's son. Really, put like that, my journey did sound improbably eventful. "Say, Chaz, how about you? How'd you get your first ribbon?"

"Heh, trying to scope out your biggest competition, I see," he said with a confident smirk. "You need to try harder than that, Aaron."

"You know the contests are recorded and uploaded online, right?"

"No matter, Macherie and I are not the same as we were in Ambertown. That recording won't help you much against us."

"It's not a contest, you guys," Lisia said with an exasperated sigh.

"It is in fact a contest, Lis," I said with a teasing grin. "That's what it's called."

"You know what I mean!"

"Where's Ambertown anyway?"

"It's a small town near Fallarbor and has maybe six thousand people," Chaz informed me. "They're famous for making little trinkets out of the amber found in the nearby forests, hence the name."

"Huh, that's really neat." It still took me aback sometimes to find that there were more towns than in the games.

Hoenn was an ancient region in which multiple kingdoms and city states rose and fell. There were plenty of places off the beaten path outlined by the gym circuit where humans lived. Few were true cities, but small towns like Ambertown weren't unheard of.

Hell, the Mossdeep Archipelago had more settlements than just Mossdeep City. The largest island, annoyingly called Mossdeep Island, was over four hundred square miles, with the city proper taking up about seventy square miles. There were several coastal villages, farms, and fisheries dotted throughout the island that answered to Mossdeep's provincial government and the gym.

X

Rustboro Contest Hall was utterly unremarkable. Slateport's had been beautiful and vast, as much a masterwork of modern art as the Grand Festival it hosted. Verdanturf's had blended its architecture with its people's love of nature. Even Oldale's had its share of personality, a barn and cattle auction hall that doubled as a gathering place for the farming community.

Comparatively, Rustboro's was stark. The building was certainly large, and made of the sandstone the people here favored, but it was completely void of decorations. Without the sign outside, we might have passed it by as just another apartment complex or office building.

Then again, maybe that was Rustboro's personality: stark, minimalist, and no-frills.

"There are so many people here," Lisia squealed happily.

"Gee, imagine that, people, in the city," I drawled.

She responded by pulling down her eyelid and blowing me a raspberry. "Blegh! You're such a sourpuss, Aaron. Tell him, Chaz."

Chaz groaned something unintelligible as he stumbled along next to us. It was nine in the morning and the contest began in half an hour, which meant the blonde was up two hours earlier than he usually was.

"Whoever organized this to start at nine-thirty needs to be fed to a salamence," he groused.

"Nine-thirty is a perfectly normal time to be up," I opined with a shit-eating smirk. I could pretend to be sympathetic, but we'd all know I'd be lying. "I've been up since five-thirty, Chaz."

"Because you're a sword-idiot."

"What time did you sleep?" Lisia asked.

"Two? Three at the latest."

"How? Why? What were you doing up that late?"

His face flushed at that. "It's not important."

I snorted. He reminded me of some of my friends from college who kept similarly twisted sleep schedules. They at least used that time to study or write papers, for the most part. What he was doing, I didn't want to guess.

We walked past the main lobby and into the coordinators' wing, an area set aside for us to make last minute preparations. We were each handed programs which contained the names of every coordinator participating. There would be forty-eight of us in the normal-rank, far larger than any other contest I'd been in so far.

It wasn't just the numbers. There was a far more eclectic variety of pokemon as well. I saw a beautifly perched atop a woman's head, not unlike how Ali liked to pretend he was Lisia's scarf. I also saw marill, vulpix, skitty, pikachu, and even a bellossom.

There was definitely a bias towards marill and skitty, four and five of each respectively in our group of forty-eight. They were pokemon native to the city's outskirts, common, easy to raise, and generically "cute" contest pokemon.

"How unoriginal," Chaz muttered as he eyed a marill who was seated on its own tail-bulb.

"Cliches are cliches because they work," I pointed out. I'd considered an azumarill for my team as well, albeit not for contests. "Those things are adorable."

"And they shall appear all the more uncreative because they rely on those cliches. The essence of a coordinator is innovation."

"True. But it's not as though you can't stand out with an exceptional marill or skitty. Like you said, the trainer's creativity will define the performance."

"We'll see if they have what it takes then," he said, clearly with expectations to the contrary.

We watched the first few rounds go by. Even capped at five minutes per appeal, with forty-eight contestants, the appeals round would have taken upwards of four hours. Seeing the sheer impracticality of it, the appeals round had been divided into two divisions performing at the same time. Two coordinators would move on from each division to create the brackets for the battle round after a lunch intermission.

When Lisia's number got called to stage A, we both completely forgot about the vulpix on Stage B. Whatever that vulpix was doing, it practically didn't matter. Chaz's silly crush aside, we knew without question that Lisia Mikuri was the gal to beat.

X

Lisia Mikuri

I took a deep breath. My heart pounded in my chest. The thrill of the show raised goosebumps down my arms. I felt positively wired, like I had one of those energy shakes meant for electric pokemon. This was it. I was here again. Here, backstage, ready to dance my heart out, to show the world that there was more than one way to raise pokemon.

It was so exciting! The stage! The lights! The people! I never felt more alive than the moments before a show. Sure, it was just five minutes in a normal-rank contest now, but one day, Ali and I would dance for the world.

Was this how Uncle Wall felt when he took center stage at the Grand Festival? Was this how Aaron felt about his kendo? Would Chaz feel this way when it was his turn?

I giggled thinking about my friends. They were more alike than different, even if they'd never admit it. Maybe that was why they got on like a pair of wet meowth. I'd never seen anyone my age as self-assured as those two.

Well, except for me maybe.

The emcee called my name and I dashed onto the stage with a cheerful bounce in my step. The music I'd chosen, an energetic pop song I'd listened to a million times before, blared around me.

There was electricity in my veins. I couldn't slow down even if I tried. There was no time to waste. We'd be cutting it close even if things went perfectly.

Risky? Probably.

Thrilling? Definitely.

My faith in Ali? Unconditional.

"Hello~ Rustboro!" I shouted at the top of my lungs. I didn't care that there were less than two hundred people watching. As big as the city was, most people weren't interested in normal-rank contests. "Come! Soar with us!"

With that, I hurled Ali's pokeball as high as I could. His pokeball opened, releasing my dearest friend into the air. My other friends weren't quite ready with their routines, but they would be soon. I couldn't wait to bring them on, maybe even a doubles routine someday. That would come in time, an option once I reached the super-rank. But for now, this was Ali's time to shine.

Ali was magnificent. I couldn't have asked for a better partner. He emerged with a song on his beak and a trail of mist behind his wings.

A thick fog began to cover us, courtesy of Ali's Mist. Ice type energy didn't come naturally to swablu, but that just meant we could highlight Ali's hard work all the more.

I began to twirl and dance to the music. Above me, Ali mirrored my movements in an elegant spiral, exuding more and more Mist all the while. Soon, we had a towering cloud around us, as big as the stage would allow. The spectators could see only an outline of me marked by the stage lights, but that was okay; I wasn't the star here.

We'd watched ourselves for countless hours, picking apart our recordings so we could improve. Every tilt of the head, every gesture of fingers and wings, it was all calculated, perfected in the same way Aaron perfected his sword swings or Chaz perfected his hair-flippy thing.

Then, as we danced, Ali's wings began to brush and comb the cloud. He incorporated Gust and Fairy Wind into the choreography, shaping the cloud and leaving glittering pink accents in strategic locations. I thought about doing the same with little hand fans, but I could never match his finesse.

The song hit its bridge. It was time. I broke our synchronized routine and ran out of the cloud cover. My skin was shining with sweat and precipitation but I didn't care. This was it, the climax I so desperately wanted to share with the world.

"Ali! Bring it home!" I shouted, my hand pumped to the sky. I wore a dazzling smile on my face as bolts of joyous anticipation shocked through me. I prayed that the crowd could feel even a bit of this energy.

He answered with an elegant trill. As the song hit its final repetition of the chorus, Ali swept into the air, brushing his wings against the ceiling.

There was a hole there, the tunneling path that Ali flew through. Our cloud sculpture looked like nothing now, just a spiral with some lopsided protrusions, but it was like a balloon, meant to be inflated. My partner took a deep breath and breathed out azure dragon fire, directly into the hole that some might have called an oversight.

The result was immediate. Ice type energy in the cloud warred splendidly with Ali's draconic breath. The resulting steam inflated the cloud, revealing what we made to the world.

An altaria, wings spread in cloudy majesty, loomed over the audience as the last notes of the song faded. The neck, originally the spiral tunnel, glimmered blue with dragon fire. The wings, clouds flattened out by Gust, spanned the stage.

Certain sections of the sculpture had been intentionally seeded with Fairy Wind, leaving gorgeous, pink accents that gave the illusion of motion as the glitters of power wafted in the wind. But that wasn't all that Fairy Wind did.

When we first started out, it was almost impossible to make the sculpture hold its shape. Draconic aura didn't want to stay still. It warred with everything. The only way for the statue to truly hold its shape was to patch some of it with fairy aura, disrupting the draconic and supplementing the ice.

This statue was a testament to what we could make, and a promise of what we would one day become. It was a study in contrasts warring auras balanced into something splendid, artistic flair framed by technical skill.

This was our magnum opus, for now.

Author's Note

Spoon hasn't been winning lately, but I kinda feel bad for not updating this so have a long-ish chapter.

Chaz only has a machop in ORAS, but there is an entirely different Chaz in the anime who has a venomoth. I decided to mush the two together because why the fuck not? It's not like either character is fleshed out at all.

Ochazuke is green tea over rice. It's very soothing; you guys should make it sometime.

That comment about Mossdeep's size is made with Hawai'i as reference. Hawai'i, the Big Island, is over 4,000 square miles. Mossdeep Island, at 400, would still be smaller than the main four Hawaiian islands.

Hopefully I made Lisia and Ali's debut performance on this fic suitably impressive. Just like how Aaron hits way above his weight class in badges, Lisia is a prodigy who doesn't belong at the normal-rank.

Food Fact: If you have allergies to pollen, you may have heard that eating locally sourced honey can help alleviate the symptoms. The idea is that honey is made from pollen and eating it can help your body become desensitized to it.

Unfortunately, though plenty of people say that, this has no scientific basis. The honey collected by bees is not at all guaranteed to be sourced from the same flowers that cause seasonal allergies. Seasonal allergies are caused by windblown pollen, the kind that don't require bees to pollinate.

Thank you to everyone who paid for my groceries. I have a Patreon and Kofi with dozens of chapters written across my various stories. If you'd like to read ahead, receive more frequent updates, vote in monthly polls or even commission a chapter directly, check them out.

Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/c/user?u=83024152
Kofi: https://ko-fi.com/fabledwebs

Aaron's Pokemon

- Artoria (Kirlia)
- Jeanne (Flaaffy)
- Durvasa (Mankey)
- Scotch (Egg)
- Magellan (Chikorita)

Fish 4.17

Aaron Fulan
Rustboro City

Unbelievable.

Un-fucking-believable.

Lisia was an utterly unreasonable human being. Her sheer energy, that stage presence, it was all so far beyond what I would have expected of a rookie coordinator that I didn't even know where to start. Everything about her performance, from her outfit to the song she chose meshed flawlessly to shine a spotlight on her swablu.

I could only imagine this was how in-game NPCs felt when the player character stomped through their gyms with a single bidoof.

Fairy aura wasn't easy to work with; that much, I knew from personal experience. I would assume draconic aura was equally temperamental. Could I do what she did? Could I blend the two masterfully into a single construct? Could I add a third type as she had?

The answer was a resounding "fuck no."

I wondered if this was the difference between a swordsman and an artist. Where I favored discipline, repetition, and structure in my training, she favored vision and spontaneity, allowing herself to be led by whimsy until a bolt of inspiration struck her. Maybe her mentality allowed her to resonate with the fairy type. Maybe her training under Wallace was far more effective than anyone had expected.

Or maybe she was just that much of a prodigy.

Whatever it was, I had a new measuring stick when it came to contests. Until now, Solidad and her slowbro had been the bar I compared myself to. She was skilled. She was a veteran who'd traveled through multiple regions already. She had an evolved pokemon who boasted both power and finesse.

And Lisia's performance completely blew hers out of the water. In both aesthetics and technical skill, there was no comparison.

The judges gave her a twenty-nine out of thirty. It was higher than any other score I'd seen, in this and every contest prior, but they'd found something to nitpick anyway. That was their job, I supposed.

Ali's Dragon Breath, though impressive for a young swablu, had lacked true mastery. His breath was short and left him obviously exhausted. Not to mention, the move had taken a second too long to charge, something that became obvious because the move didn't line up with the final beats of the song.

"Is it just me or are they looking for anything to strike points for?" I muttered.

"Obviously. Lisia's performance was flawless," Chaz said. He shone with admiration and envy in equal measure.

"Not flawless maybe, but definitely excusable for a normal-rank contest."

"Agreed. Maybe that's what they're trying to imply: No one is perfect. We all have ways we can better ourselves."

"Maybe. Norman offered Artoria and I a stronger pokemon than the second badge required as well. If she's being graded with higher expectations, I guess some traditions are universal."

"Of course, everything comes back to battling with you, brute," he said, though there was no heat to it.

"Blonde ponce," I shot back, more for the sake of it than because I was actually offended.

He was right, after all. I was indeed a sword-idiot.

I looked around at the other coordinators and snickered. Everyone here fell into one of two camps: One type of person, the majority of people here, felt disheartened by Lisia's performance. She was guaranteed to advance to the battle round, and with a significant lead in points. Just seeing her mastery had been enough to cow them and already, some were muttering about how there was always next month.

The other type of person was thrilled, eager to test themselves against the Grand Coordinator's niece. It wasn't over yet. There were three other slots. Maybe she wasn't as good at contest battling as she was at appeals. Maybe the experience alone would be worthwhile. Or, if they had a pokemon with an advantage against a swablu, they could bring it out.

I immediately wrote off everyone in the first camp. They weren't competition anymore, not after Lisia so thoroughly shattered their spirits. The hilarious part of it all was that Lisia didn't think this way at all. She was only focused on putting on the best show she could.

Soon, it was time for Chaz to go on stage. His routine was clean, polished in a way that most others weren't. I was wondering how he planned to compete in a contest with a machop of all pokemon. They weren't known for large natural movepools. The answer was simple: TMs.

Macherie the machop was loaded up on TMs. She used a combination of Bulldoze and Rock Tomb to alter the stage around her trainer, raising up a platform that resembled a craggy cliff. She then built walls around him with Rock Tomb and Light Screen, using the pillars of stone to anchor the psychic projections temporarily. When she was finished, Chaz sat atop a throne of polished stone, the relief of a castle of light molded around him.

It wasn't a fully detailed castle of course, more of a rough design. A machop simply lacked the psychic finesse to create such a thing. For that matter, even Artoria wouldn't be able to manage it, though perhaps a throne or crown of light might be more feasible. He made up for that with the crags made by Rock Tomb, creating the impression of a scenic, mountain vista.

In a vacuum, the performance was great. It showed off the machop's skill with atypical moves, looked suitably grandiose, and wasn't something most people would have seen before. However, the construct Macherie made got compared to Ali's and didn't score as highly as Chaz likely hoped. Still, with twenty-four points, he was comfortably second place.

Then it was my turn.

X

I paid the emcee no mind as she announced my entrance. Having done this twice before, the butterflies didn't bother me much though they fluttered in my stomach still.

My entrance was lacking in energy compared to Lisia's, but not in focused intent. I strolled past the trainer box, where most typically chose to stand, and right up to the audience, as close as I could stand without falling off the stage. Neither Chaz nor Lisia remained in that box and nor would I. I bowed politely at the waist, one hand over my heart.

Wearing a suit with my sword at my hip and Lisia's bandana accented over my neck, I must have struck an unusual sight. Chaz had teased me for bringing my sword along, saying I treated it like a security blanket.

He wasn't wrong; ever since I began training Artoria, I felt naked without one, whether a bokken or dull steel didn't matter. Perhaps Artoria's mentality was bleeding through, just as I was influencing her.

I knew I looked strange, but that was fine. It was better to be a little unusual rather than completely forgettable.

I turned my back to the crowd and released Jeanne so she stood center stage. I couldn't see the audience, but that was what I wanted. I was a conductor now, and to a conductor, the orchestra was the only audience that mattered.

I held out my right arm for silence. Then, as I brought it down, Jeanne stamped her foot, causing a circle of electricity to expand around her. With Electric Terrain set, the stage lights seemed to fade away before the brightness of Jeanne's technique. I snapped my finger and Jeanne conjured two orbs in her hand, Electro Ball and a charged Cotton Spore. Electricity arced between the two, sometimes jumping between her horns, creating sharp, crackling sounds.

Then, with her makeshift thoramin in hand, she began to play. Mary Had a Little Lamb echoed throughout the chamber. The notes weren't pure like from a piano, but her instrument of choice had an allure all its own; it even came with its own light show.

I had a shit-eating grin on my face as Jeanne played her little heart out. I could tell the exact moment people realized what we were doing. Giggles, snorts of laughter, and murmurs of disbelief sounded behind me. That was the joke: I was dressed in a suit, like a proper conductor, but here was a lamb, playing a nursery rhyme about another lamb, and doing it in the most unorthodox way possible. The best jokes were ones that managed expectations after all.

When the first round ended, I raised my left hand. I brought it down in a chop, causing Jeanne to do the same with her tail.

There was a bright shower of sparks and a dull, staticky thump as her tail-bulb met the Electric Terrain. It sounded a little like the thumping of a mic that some people did to grab attention. I brought my hand up and down in a simple but appealing pattern, adding steady percussion to this round.

The brevity of the song played to our advantage here. Neither Jeanne nor I were great musicians and we didn't have the years of practice to make up for our lack of genius talent. As novel as this must have been to the judges, they would have grown tired of the performance had we picked a longer song. It was best not to overstay our welcome.

At the close of the song, Jeanne, who'd been swaying and tossing her "instruments" up and down, seemingly tripped over her own feet. With a bleat of faux surprise, she hurled the Electro Ball at me, and in turn the audience. Gasps of shock and worry filled the room as the orb of condensed lightning careened towards my head.

Then, before it could impact against the psychic barriers, I took a half-step forward and cut it out of the air with a perfect iaido draw. The orb of electricity sent an unpleasant tingle up my arm that I ignored with practiced ease. Twin showers of golden sparks flew around me, briefly framing my form.

Turning, I sheathed my sword calmly and bowed to the audience as Jeanne's "trip" became a controlled roll forward. She joined me in the second bow as the last notes of the children's song faded with the sparks of her "attack."

"That was certainly the most… unorthodox… performance we've had today," began one judge. She was a senior gym trainer from Rustboro, here to represent the League. The others were a contest veteran who often competed at the ultra-rank and the president of the local chapter of the pokemon fanclub. "I've never heard of anyone playing music like that before. Care to tell us about it, Mr. Fulan?"

I was being asked to elaborate on my performance. I took that as a good sign. Some coordinators were, but most were only offered token recognition. "Of course. The idea comes from something called a thoramin, an instrument made by using tesla coils to generate electricity, and then converting specific frequencies to sound. I discovered that Jeanne could do something similar and we've been practicing since."

"Why a children's song of all things? Surely, there are better options out there for a live performance," the fanclub president said.

"There are, but truthfully? Jeanne is a pokemon who loves being whimsical. Her childlike wonder and delight are some of her best qualities. I didn't feel that the ambiance of a formal orchestra suited us. Instead, we're much better suited for something a little more fun, a little more… dynamic."

"Well, you've certainly done that, young man. I was wondering what you were going to do with a sword. I'm still not sure it fits well with your overall theme."

The final judge, a veteran coordinator, looked like he wasn't sure if he should scold me or praise me. "It came out of left field. Sure, you had the sword on you the whole time, but I don't think anyone expected that. That's both a good and bad thing.

"On one hand, it was a great way to–heh–cut the performance short. Otherwise, I don't think we would have enjoyed sitting through five minutes of you repeating the same tune. It was eye-catching and showed off the trust you have in your pokemon and the incredible control your flaaffy possesses to not hurt you accidentally.

"On the other hand, it had nothing to do with the rest of your performance. I would also highly advise against anything that even appears to endanger your own audience. Yes, the barriers are active, but such performances tend to have some extremely mixed responses."

"Yes, sir, thank you for your advice."

"All told, that's an eight from me. Novel, creative, and with a lot of potential for more."

"Agreed," the gym trainer said. "I appreciate how technical the show was. Electricity is extremely dangerous to humans and your confidence suggests the kind of training and dedication we encourage here in Rustboro. Eight as well."

The fanclub president shook his head and held out a seven. "I don't know, you two. I agree with everything you both said, but it does lack a bit of the pizazz of some of the other performances we've seen. I'm taking a point off for the thematic mismatch anyway."

I bowed my head in acknowledgement. He was, unfortunately, not wrong. I needed a showstopper to cut the performance before my five minutes were up, but I wasn't good enough to cut electric attacks out of the air for a full, choreographed performance. Let them think it was done to highlight Jeanne's control.

X

"Aaron! Jeanne! That was awesome!" Lisia squealed as she gave me a quick hug. She then knelt and buried her face in Jeanne's neck. She held up a hand towards me expectantly.

"What?"

"Gimme."

"Give you what, Lisia? We use words here."

"Comb. Treats. Everything I need to pamper this cutie, duh."

I rolled my eyes. She'd really taken a liking to Jeanne over the past few days. And Artoria too, but my starter wasn't nearly so accommodating when it came to cuddles. I supposed Jeanne did deserve her moment.

I gave her Jeanne's grooming kit and took a seat next to her to await the results. Lisia came in first of course. Then Chaz with twenty-four points, putting me and some woman named Janet at third with twenty-three points apiece. I would be battling Chaz in the semi-finals and Lisia in the finals.

That was fine by me; Chaz needed a bit of humbling and battles were my domain. Really, who built a castle and placed himself on the throne?

"I won," Chaz said with a smug grin.

"Did you? Because I'm pretty sure Lisia kicked both our asses," I replied with an arched brow.

"Between you and me, I won."

"It's not a contes-competition," Lisia corrected herself and sighed. On top of her head, Ali mirrored his mistress.

"Maybe not when you're so far above everyone else. We must all look like amateurs to you."

"I don't think of myself that way, Chaz. And we are amateurs, all of us. None of us do this professionally yet."

"Right. It's all about making people smile with you," I said. "You do have a big advantage in the battle round though, what with having more points to lose."

"That's true. But it's still not a competition."

"Of course not, Lisia."

"If it were," she said slyly, "I'd win so you boys can stop bickering."

"Oh? Those are fightin' words."

"I won't go easy on you, even if you're my f-friend," Chaz added. The boy couldn't get more obvious if he bought her roses and a ring.

Lisia rolled her eyes and pulled Jeanne closer. "Boys, right, Jeanne?"

Jeanne, through her blissed out haze, bleated out affirmation for the giver of cuddles. "Flaaf."

"Hey now, I'm your trainer. You're supposed to be on my side," I complained, jabbing a finger into Jeanne's fluffy side.

"Flaaf. Flaaffy-flaaf. Flaa…"

Lisia giggled and dug around in her bag before pulling out a pokeblock. Pecha, it looked like. "Here, Jeanne. A treat for being more sensible than your trainer."

"Flaaffy!"

I could have stopped it. Then again, I did promise Lisia a first-hand account of the intricacies of ovine biology all those weeks ago. So, I leaned back and let Jeanne's enthusiasm take hold.

My little lamb hopped onto Lisia's lap and hugged the pop idol with a cheerful bleat. She leaned forward, and with a devious grin, licked her from chin to forehead. I doubted Lisia's foundation tasted very good, but that was a secondary concern for Jeanne.

The first, of course, was getting a reaction from her new cuddles-dispenser.

"Eewww!" Lisia squealed, getting more than a few amused glances our way. "It's so slimy. Wait, what's-Is this grass???"

"That's called cud, Lis," I replied dryly. "Ovines and bovines, that's sheep and cows, have multi-chambered stomachs they use to break down fibrous plant matter. They chew something, barf it up, and chew it again over the course of the entire day. That half-digested plant matter is called cud."

"What? That's so nasty… You should have told me!"

"I did, weeks ago, over group chat. Tate and Liza can vouch for me."

"You should have told me today! Before I let her lick me!"

Jeanne ambled over to me with a smug, self-satisfied smirk. I picked up my little prankster and tucked her under my arm like a rugby ball. "But then how else would we amuse ourselves?"

"You're a jerk, Aaron," she pouted.

"I am. I am also a man of my word. I did promise a first-hand lesson then."

"I could do without any more, thanks," she said, glaring lightly. She pulled out a handkerchief and wiped herself off. She caught Jeanne looking at the bag of pokeblocks, a stash only preserved by the attentive watch of Ali. Ali crooned affectionately as his mistress fed him. "No, no way, missy. Only good pokemon get snacks."

"Swa-blu," Ali trilled. I didn't know what he said, but the tone was universal.

Sparks erupted between Jeanne and Ali as their eyes met. Ember, and now Ali, my little lamb was sure busy gathering rivals for herself.

X

We reconvened after thirty minutes. The lunch intermission was just long enough for us to snack on a few wraps provided by the contest hall.

I stood across from Chaz Rosemund. He was as confident as I'd ever seen him. With his long, blonde hair swept back to one side and a perfectly tailored suit of royal blue, he looked like the ideal dashing prince. In front of him stood Macherie; he wasn't even trying to hide his pokemon of choice.

Machop didn't have much in the way of ranged options. They could learn, but even their best efforts tended to be lackluster. I knew he had a venonat and a growlithe in addition to his starter. I'd made no secret that Jeanne was the only pokemon on my team interested in contests; had he been a wiser man, he would have sent out a growlithe for mobility and better range.

Then again, I had a feeling that this wasn't strictly about making the optimal choice in pokemon to face my flaaffy. I could see it in his eyes and in the fire of emotional aura that surrounded him. He considered me a rival, and so wanted to face me with his starter. It was sentimental, and maybe a little foolish, but I felt my respect for him rise just a little.

Was this what was called a man's romance?

"Coordinators, are you ready?" the emcee asked. When we nodded our assent, she brought down her little flag, signaling the start of the match. "Then let's go!"

"Macherie, show them your Light Screen!" Chaz shouted, hand outstretched dramatically.

He likely expected an early salvo, a powerful ranged barrage to keep the melee-focused machop at bay. By using the Light Screen to absorb the attack and create a spectacle for the audience, he would have built himself an early point lead.

Unfortunately for him, that wasn't how Jeanne did things. She did exactly as I'd taught her: Charge. Whenever there was a moment to breathe, Charge. When you didn't know what the opponent would do next, Charge. At every idle moment, Charge.

We battled to our own rhythm. So long as Macherie was way over there, Jeanne was happy to set the field. She did a little twirl and slammed her tail on the ground, setting up a small Electric Terrain the size of a pitcher's mound. Then, using it as a stage light and Charge as her props, she began an impromptu dance routine that made the crowd coo.

For several seconds, Jeanne and Macherie almost had a dance-off rather than fight. Such was the nature of contest battles. Points could be gained and lost through the successful execution of elaborate moves, or by countering your opponents, but the easiest way was simply to look good doing whatever you were doing.

It was something I hadn't really encountered personally until now. Solidad and her slowbro stomped me and Jeanne so hard that there was no chance to show off. And with Onale, making an aesthetic appeal fell to the wayside in favor of stoking that torchic's fighting spirit.

Chaz quickly figured out that I was waiting for Light Screen to wear off and had Macherie bombard Jeanne with Rock Slide. Body still glistening with the protective veil, she dug her hands into the battlefield and pulled out bowling ball-sized projectiles before hurling them at Jeanne.

"Agility," I called. "Fancy feet."

Jeanne bleated and began to dance more fervently. She was used to training against Durvasa and Artoria. Compared to dodging homing energy stars or a teleporting, spoon-wielding sword-nut who also liked to abuse Double Team, a Rock Slide wasn't difficult. Perhaps if the move came from a machop with more combat training, she might have had a harder time.

Jeanne posed atop her little Electric Terrain after every dodge like a character out of a magical girl anime. For a contest battle, it wasn't enough to simply evade; she needed to make it look effortless.

She couldn't keep this up forever. As well-trained as Jeanne was, her stamina was far from her best trait. Macherie was taking a step or two after each boulder, slowly closing the distance. That was fine; the machop would run out of steam before Jeanne.

Then, halfway to Jeanne, it happened. The blue veil of Light Screen flickered out. It had been used to outline Macherie's muscles, but there was no way she could keep up a psychic move for so long, not while trying to close the distance and maintain a ranged bombardment.

"Screen's down!" I shouted, more to let the judges know that this was intentional rather than because Jeanne needed the obvious explained to her. I held my hand dramatically into the air. "Cover the sky! Lightning arrows!"

Jeanne did a little sideways flip, twisting in the air. Her tail whipped out and all the electricity she'd been charging was released into the air. She loosed a dozen bolts of Shock Wave into the air with each swish of her tail.

It was laughably impractical. I could have ended the battle with a single, overpowered Electro Ball. Instead, here we were, wasting all the charge we'd built up to simulate an arrow rain. If the judges asked, it was an "undodgeable attack that's both pretty and guaranteed to score points."

I'd have to tell Jeanne why we never do this in a real battle later.

Either way, Macherie wasn't experienced enough. Now, all that distance she'd covered with her Rock Slide backfired as she had even less space to dodge. I thought this would be it. She'd be hurt and paralyzed and easy pickings for Jeanne.

Then Chaz's shout cut through the air. "Macherie! Show them your Focus Blast! Straight up!"

Macherie held her hands in front of her, slightly apart. She looked like she was about to charge a Kamehameha. Or maybe Vegeta's Final Flash.

With a determined shout, she thrust the ball of condensed aura into the air. It collided with the golden arcs of electricity headed for her, creating an explosion of color and wind that ruffled the clothes of those in the front row. As the rain of electricity cascaded around her, she posed, hands behind her head to show off her rippling muscles.

Jeanne looked back at me with a question in her eyes. I shook my head. I'd read up more on contest battles. They were battles, true, but they were also performances, more akin to movie fight choreographies in some ways. Normally, now would have been the perfect time to beat that machop silly, but it wasn't a bad thing to let her have a few seconds.

Then that time passed. I shouted so Chaz could hear. "Electro Ball! Pitch it!"

"Macherie, defend with Rock Tomb!"

Jeanne used the Electric Terrain as a pitcher's mound. She took several seconds to wind up an exaggerated baseball pitch. Even as telegraphed as our attack was, Chaz's machop barely managed to get the wall of stone up in time.

I wondered just how many TMs he'd given that machop of his. So far, I'd seen Rock Slide, Light Screen, Focus Blast, and now Rock Tomb. They were all solid moves, and her versatility was impressive, but that poor machop lacked the experience to have truly mastered any of them.

"Curve ball," I spoke calmly. I glanced at the scoreboard. It was about time. I'd allowed Chaz to have his back and forth. Macherie got to show off a bit. Now, it was time to dominate.

Jeanne's next pitch came hard and fast. Worse, it came with the same tracking feature found in Shock Wave. It curved in the air like it had a mind of its own, circling cleanly around the wall of rock to nail her opponent in the face.

"Macherie!" Chaz shouted as she was sent sprawling.

"End the terrain. Agility. Close in."

This wasn't necessary. The optimal choice would be to keep up the ranged assault and never let that machop so much as stand up again. Most would say a flaaffy willingly getting close with a machop was stupid. And yet, I found myself feeling confident in Jeanne's ability to out-duel a machop in close quarters.

Maybe not every machop, but this one? Without question.

It was a real pity, too. Macherie clearly had a lot of know-how when it came to moves. She had to have put in the work to make these moves combat-viable, even if they did come from a TM originally. She was more than a simple brute but her potential had been stifled by Chaz's methods.

I didn't know if this was because Chaz himself had no idea how to teach martial arts or because he was so fixated on aesthetics, but I felt the machop could do better. Learning to fight for real might even help them with contests.

Hopefully, this would be a learning experience for them both.

Chaz must have seen a glimmer of hope. He had Macherie rush to meet Jeanne with Revenge. It was a powerful move, one that could do some serious damage if it landed.

Macherie wasn't bad at fighting up close. No machop could be called that. But she wasn't the practiced martial artist that was so common amongst her kind. She was the equivalent of a movie stuntman who excelled at those flashy roundhouse kicks but had never been in the ring.

Compared to her usual sparring partners, Macherie was so painfully slow.

"Use your tail. Spin out," I called as the machop's glowing haymaker closed in.

It was a running joke that Jeanne would learn the Rasengan one day. I doubted I'd ever call it that, and the sheer concentration of type energy needed to have that boring effect wasn't there, but she'd gotten quite good at spinning her Electro Ball.

Now, Jeanne used it to maneuver. She conjured an Electro Ball around her tail-bulb and brought it down against the ground. The rotation of the ball picked Jeanne off her feet, carrying her out of the way of Macherie's haymaker and skidding behind the machop.

And then it was over. One last Electro Ball to the back of the head was enough to knock her opponent out cold.

Author's Note

Long chapter? Long chapter.

Aaron's still figuring out the presentation thing. At the moment, he has a novel idea that works as a proof of concept, not a full performance, and it shows.

For whatever reason, machop learns Light Screen via TM, but not Reflect.

When you see a human block a pokemon attack, your natural conclusion is not "that human is a magic samurai." It's "that pokemon is very well-trained." People don't attribute the feat to Aaron, but to Jeanne instead.

The contest battle was fun to write. There were a lot of instances when Jeanne could have simply overwhelmed Macherie but didn't for the sake of putting on a performance. Hopefully, the differences between a contest battle and a gym battle were more apparent here; I know I haven't been doing that much in the previous examples.

Animal Fact: There is no such thing as a female peacock. A "peacock" refers to the male member of the peafowl species and only males have those large, fan-like tail feathers. Therefore, a female peafowl is actually called a "peahen."

Thank you to everyone who paid for my groceries. I have a Patreon and Kofi with dozens of chapters written across my various stories. If you'd like to read ahead, receive more frequent updates, vote in monthly polls or even commission a chapter directly, check them out.

Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/c/user?u=83024152

Kofi: https://ko-fi.com/fabledwebs

Aaron's Pokemon

- Artoria (Kirlia)
- Jeanne (Flaaffy)
- Durvasa (Mankey)
- Steamed (Egg)
- Magellan (Chikorita)

Fish 4.18

Aaron Fulan
Rustboro City

Lisia and I were the only two people in the waiting room now. There would be another ten minutes before we took the stage, not because enough time had passed for another intermission, but because there wouldn't be much of a show if one party was too tired to compete at their best. Ten minutes was just long enough for a pokemon to catch its breath.

That said, I could see why coordinators sometimes used multiple pokemon in the appeal and battle rounds. At the normal-rank, moves tended to be fairly simple but some of the ultra and master-rank routines could be truly exhausting, even for fully evolved pokemon. Coordinators didn't have the same pressure to acquire a large number of pokemon that battlers did, but I could see how these contests would tax a pokemon's stamina.

Two or three was a popular number for their teams. If nothing else, type matchups were still a thing no matter the battle format. A stylish thunderbolt would hurt a flying pokemon just as much as a styleless one after all.

Which raised the question: Should I bother with another contest pokemon? Jeanne was passionate about contests, but that passion had yet to rub off on Durvasa or Artoria.

The thought had me pulling out the larvesta egg from my backpack. It was developing steadily according to Artoria, its nascent consciousness still too faint for me to sense directly. Jeanne seemed adamant in her efforts to condition the budding mind into being a fellow contest pokemon. Whether she'd succeed or not, I had no clue, but it was a funny idea. Certainly, a volcarona would be an awe-inspiring sight.

Alas, that would take several years even if my new larvesta was inclined towards the performing arts. Though trainers' pokemon evolved more quickly than in the wild, this little fellow wouldn't evolve fast enough for this year's Grand Festival.

"Hmm? Is that a pokemon egg?" Lisia asked, scooting over. "Do you know what's inside?"

"Larvesta," I replied. "Mom pulled some strings for me in exchange for a major favor."

"Woah, aren't those super rare?"

"Yeah, mom taught Caitlin of the Unova Elite Four a few years back so we have connections there."

"Lucky. When will it hatch? And can I watch?"

"Early June? Give or take a week, I guess. If you're still around, then sure, why not? Jeanne likes to talk to the egg. I'm pretty sure she's trying to convince the embryo that it should be a contest star with her."

"That'd be so cool. Ooh! Those two can do a full 'sun and storms' routine! I mean, when this one evolves."

"That would be cool, but I'm not sure how I'd balance Rain Dance and Sunny Day like that."

"You'll figure it out," she said, completely convinced in my abilities. "Say, you don't have any other contest pokemon, right?"

"Right. It's Jeanne all the way. Don't worry, she's not lacking stamina."

"Oh, I know. I've seen your training sessions. Your team's nuts, you know that?"

I chuckled. "They're all battle junkies, even Jeanne."

She poked me on the cheek with a teasing smile. "Like trainer, like pokemon, Mr. I-fought-a-scyther."

"You laugh, but I swear it happened."

"Sure, buster. And don't think you can zap Ali and me just because Ali's a flying type."

"Of course not. I'm sure you've learned a few tricks for dealing with electric types already, either from Wallace or Winona."

Our conversation was interrupted by the cheering crowds. We could hear them even backstage.

Lisia stood and stretched before smoothing out her skirt. "Shall we put on a show?"

"May the best flaaffy win."

"Still not a conte–"

"It literally is."

"Oh, shut up, you."

X

"Welcome back to the Rustboro normal-rank contest!" the emcee shouted. "We've got quite the treat for you today, folks. On one side, we have Aaron Fulan, son of the Oracle of Mossdeep herself! On the other, we have Lisia Lutia, niece of our very own Grand Coordinator, Wallace Mikuri!

"Now, for those of us new to the scene, let me recap the rules: Each trainer starts with a set number of points, as dictated by their appeals rounds. Those can be seen on the projectors there. As the battle progresses, trainers will lose points for every mistake until one side reaches zero.

"Are we clear? Great! This is it, two legends in the making! Will this be the start of a brilliant rivalry? Let's find out!"

The crowd had increased, some figuring that the finals ought to be worth watching even if the majority of the appeals were not. The Grand Festival, this was not, but I still counted a few hundred people, enough to fill a school auditorium or so.

Lisia's face was bright red with embarrassment. Admittedly, I wasn't completely immune. Neither of us enjoyed having our family legacies used to hype us up like that. Our achievements were our own. Hell, neither of us were planning on using psychic or water types at all.

"Well, I guess that's one way to hype up the crowd," I said with a laugh to relieve the tension. "Let's make this a good one, eh, Lis?"

She clapped her face to center herself. I could see the moment the crowd disappeared from her eyes; the stage was all that mattered. Her pokeball danced across her fingers with impressive dexterity. "Yeah! Ali and I will do our best!"

Not to be outdone, I spun Jeanne's pokeball on my finger. Tactile telekinesis was still something I was working on, but a pokeball was light enough for me to do a few tricks.

"On three?" I called, ignoring the emcee.

"One," Lisia shouted back, a wide grin on her face.

"Two."

"Three!"

Jeanne and Ali emerged almost at the same time. Ali took to the sky in an elegant spiral, a song on his beak. Jeanne took that as her cue to do an improvised dance routine, Electro Balls dancing like pom poms in her hands. As always, Charge when idle.

The two had gotten to know each other quite well in the past few days. Jeanne was thrilled to have someone else who loved contests as much as she did and Ali was as bubbly as his trainer, always ready to make a new friend. They were putting on a show already and the battle had yet to begin.

Still, their friendship was no reason for me to hold back. "Set the stage, Jeanne!"

"Flaaf!"

"You bring the lights; we'll bring the music! Ali, sing them a song!" Lisia shouted.

On the plus side, it wasn't Sing, the move. It was an unspoken rule in contests as well as a philosophy Lisia personally ascribed to: The performance comes first.

As such, a move that cuts the battle short without allowing the opponent to perform tended to be frowned upon. Not illegal per se, but unpopular for obvious reasons. The contest battle was akin to a tennis rally, a back and forth in which each pokemon was expected to react to and expand upon what was done before.

On the downside, Round was a pain in the ass. It was a relatively weak, sound-based attack, made even weaker thanks to Ali's insistence on making it sound pretty. That said, it had a very large area of effect, as all sound moves tended to have.

Round rings of energy rippled through the air prettily towards Jeanne. They were slow, but effective at covering the total area of what would have been Jeanne's Electric Terrain. She'd obviously seen Jeanne on stage before and knew the terrain would be bad news if I managed to get it up.

Trouble was, Jeanne would need to take the hit and not respond, "stop the rally" so to speak. She could tank the move easily, but that would mean losing points, and I'd already started at a deficit compared to Lisia. I panicked for a moment.

Truthfully, I'd expected Lisia to be far more defensive, both because of her pacifistic personality and the swablu's type weakness. That was a mistake on my part: Lisia was already an expert, a true prodigy and born idol whereas I scraped along by the virtue of a past life's memories.

Then, I got an idea.

"Abort. Take the rings and light them up with Shock Wave," I called, trusting that Jeanne would understand.

My flaaffy was a shining beacon, a light in the dark. She strived constantly to be as bright as she could be, in a very literal sense. But that didn't mean she had no control, far from it.

Shock Wave was all about control. It required that she sense a target's electromagnetic signature and lock in on that to the exclusion of all else. So was Charge, the storage and compression of electrical potential. And her Rasengan knockoff. It wasn't easy putting rotational force into balls of energy that theoretically shouldn't have mass. Though this wasn't something we'd practiced, I had full faith in her mastery of lightning.

Jeanne saw what I was going for and bleated out an affirmative. Her tail and hands swished around her. Electricity became as putty in her hands before it formed a ring. With a kiss for the cameras, she blew a modified Shock Wave into the Round.

It was beautiful. The Shock Wave would naturally fizzle out, but it fed off her Charge and both their combined auras to linger. Electricity did what it was wont to do and followed the path of least resistance, the distortions in the air pressure, creating a brilliant halo that surrounded Jeanne.

"Now, return to sender," I called.

With a heave of exertion, she flung it back at Ali. Admittedly, it was mostly just a light show by now. The Round had worn off and Shock Wave's power was mostly gone with her focusing on keeping it in a pretty ring, but Lisia needed to respond if she wanted to continue this rally.

"Nu-uh, that won't work. Ali, Dragon Breath! Thread the needle!" she yelled.

Her partner breathed out a long stream of azure flames. It speared straight through the hole, causing heat shimmers to form around the electric ring.

I remembered the judges taking off a point or two during the appeals round because Ali lacked perfect control of Dragon Breath. Now, that became an asset. The fire spread wider than intended, merging with the electricity and causing the ring to burst into a shower of gold and blue sparks.

We paused for two seconds to allow the audience to take in the light show. Unnecessary perhaps, but it was the polite thing to do. A quick glance at the projectors told me I'd lost a few points in that exchange.

Then, I decided to take back initiative.

"Thunder Shock," I ordered, "Make it rain!"

"Flaaffy!"

Jeanne leapt into the air before whipping her tail back and forth. Her tail-bulb crackled with electricity to a rhythm only she could hear as she covered the sky in countless small javelins of light. They were individually weak without Electric Terrain to buff her, but the sheer quantity made dodging almost impossible.

It was almost like one of those Guitar Hero knockoffs. Jeanne's tails and hands flashed to an improvised drum beat, sending bolts towards Ali in a set pattern. The pattern was simple but recognizable, a promise of future growth.

"Ali, Cloud Clones!" Lisia countered. I had no idea she'd been taking tips from Quinn. Did she also have a thing for Kantoan ninjas? Funny as the thought was, I put it to the side.

It was wild. She'd figured out how to combine Cotton Guard, an advanced move for the swablu line, alongside Double Team to create a small flock of swablu that hovered in the breeze. Or maybe it was Substitute? But that would be very taxing on Ali's stamina.

They hovered in a single layer in front of Ali, absorbing the electric waves. Rather than play Guitar Hero, Ali had created a form of performance art, impromptu sculptures that lit up with the oncoming waves of electricity.

The clones burst, which told me they'd been Substitutes. Each exploded in a little puff of golden color, like fireworks that blunted much of the damage for Ali.

"Now, what was it you said, Aaron? Oh, right! Return to sender! Mirror Move!"

Ali took a deep breath and let out a long, crooning trill. The air shimmered and, for a moment, I saw a phantasmal copy of Jeanne behind him. Mirror-Jeanne copied the dance, sending a cascade of electricity down towards the real one. Mirror Move even copied Jeanne's exact beat sequence.

I didn't have to look to know my points were draining away rapidly. I needed to salvage what I could from this exchange.

"Cotton Guard? Yeah, we can do that too!" I replied. "Cotton Spores! Light 'em up!"

Jeanne let out a cheerful bleat before the wool around her neck expanded exponentially. She grabbed clumps and began to hurl them into the air, creating orbs that struck the oncoming wave.

Flaaffy wool was unlike swablu down, particularly in that Flaaffy wool stored electricity incredibly well. Not only did it not combust, it would maintain the charge, sending arcs of electricity along the surface in a dazzling display reminiscent of disco balls or fireflies. They weren't as flashy as bursting Substitutes, but they lingered in the air, floating gently in the breeze as they pulsed with electricity.

I felt pride bloom as Jeanne immediately sank to one knee, anticipating my next order. The trick with Cotton Spores was the very first appeal Jeanne ever made, way back in Verdanturf. We hadn't won then, but it felt immensely gratifying to use it in combat now.

"I know the lights are pretty, but don't you dare take your eyes off the opponent," I chided Lisia. I opted to give up the rally in favor of using a new move. It would cost me in points perhaps, but not as much since the ball, Ali's Mirror Move, had been received. "Agility into Electro Ball! Follow with Shock Wave!"

"Block with Disarming Voice! Break the spores," Lisia shot back. "Then ground the lightning!"

A burst of pink energy shot out as Ali trilled his song. It collided with the Electro Ball in midair, sending a pulse of energy that scattered the drifting spores. The fairy energy disrupted the electricity in the air, causing a trail of sparks that made the falling spores look like comets.

Ali did his best to dodge the following salvo of Shock Waves. He curved around one, descended past a second, but took the third on the chin. To his credit, he continued despite the super effective attack.

When he touched the ground, his wings shone a metallic gray. The rest of Jeanne's salvo caught up to him, only for him to redirect the bulk of the charge into the earth.

That was fine. Grounding electricity using Steel Wing was a favored tactic among flying type trainers, but also an incredibly risky one. Though it could mitigate much of the damage from that one attack, it also stripped away the flying type's primary advantages: mobility and altitude.

Had this been a normal battle, this would have been it. Jeanne wasn't the best close quarters combatant on my team, but she was quite familiar with a physical scrap. She certainly wouldn't have had any problem catching and frying Ali before he could escape to the sky.

Yet, I couldn't have her just slug the bird. That would be "uncouth."

"Tail. Electro Ball," I snapped. "If Ali wants to be the nail, we can be the hammer."

My order took longer than necessary, blunting Jeanne's Agility-enhanced speed. She understood and further slowed herself down by going for a cartwheel into a front flip, swinging her tail in a descending hammerblow onto Ali. It was fast enough for the layperson to gawk at, dextrous enough for the judges to approve of, and yet powerful enough to put down her opponent if it landed.

"No," Lisia cried, the first sign of actual panic I'd heard. "Protect!"

Jeanne's tail struck down onto Ali just as an emerald shield enveloped the swablu. Her tail crackled with electricity, reminding me distinctly of Thor's hammer, Mjolnir. I'd have to teach her Iron Tail at some point.

The Protect shattered into a million pieces as the sound of a reverberating gong filled the stage. Still, Ali was safe for the moment.

"Dragon Breath," Lisia shouted. "Get some distance!"

That gave me an idea. "Cotton Spore! Make yourself some torches, Jeanne!"

Ali breathed out a plume of blue fire as he pulled his now softened wing from the ground. He was tiring though. I could tell because the stream was nowhere near as large or strong.

Rather than chase down the bird as she might have normally, Jeanne pivoted and brought out more and more fluff. The wool around her neck and head became outrageously large, so much so that we could barely see her eyes. Then, she grabbed two, large handfuls of wool and purposely touched them to Ali's fire.

Once again, wool did not burn under normal circumstances; It required immense heat and more oxygen than was present in the atmosphere. A normal fire type attack would simply have been snuffed out by Jeanne's Cotton Spore, unable to ignite on the surface.

That said, dragonfire wasn't normal fire. Being fed from draconic aura, it tended to take on the traits of dragons. Which was to say, it was persistent. Rather than attempt to consume the wool's surface and atmospheric oxygen for fuel, it drained Ali's reserves directly to maintain combustion. In other words, it acted like napalm and would remain hot no matter what, even underwater.

Jeanne had torches of blue flame enclosing her hands. She'd probably get burned at least a little as the heat seeped through the wool, but much of Ali's fire had been blunted. I doubted this would have worked against a truly powerful dragon, but I tabled this tactic for future exploration.

Jeanne began to dance, waving her hands around in windmills. She then gave the judges an exaggerated wink before igniting her wool-clad head as well.

A pink and blue goblin replaced Jeanne as she began to dance and tumble about. It was a bit like one of those lion dances that people did for Chinese New Year in my old world. I watched as Lisia oohed and aahed at the performance. She was losing points, but such was her joy at the performance itself that she didn't care.

When the fire got too hot to bear, Jeanne skipped into the air and flung the wool jacket at Ali. Ali was forced to smother his own dragonfire with Disarming Voice as Jeanne took a bow. A few seconds for Jeanne to soak in the applause and we were right back at it.

"Just a little more, Ali. Round!" I heard Lisia shout to be heard above the crowd.

"Protect into Shock Wave," I replied. I really didn't have any good options to guard against sound-based moves.

Ali had used several Substitutes and Mirror Move to copy an energy type he normally wouldn't have had access to. He'd also taken a few hits from Jeanne's electric type attacks. Maybe they weren't the strongest she could manage, but they weren't nothing either.

Jeanne had performed an impromptu fire dance. Her wool jacket kept her from being burned, but that had to be positively sweltering. Ovines did not sweat to regulate temperature and it was the equivalent of running a sprint while wrapped in a heated blanket. She'd also been dancing the entire time, and with countless electric attacks that sapped away at her initial Charge.

Both pokemon were exhausted. That said, I had full faith in Jeanne's bullheaded determination to win the match for us. My pokemon were all like that; they had the sterling example that was Artoria after all.

A rippling wave of force left Ali's beak. It could have been my imagination, but it sounded much more muted from the start of the contest. It collided against Jeanne's Protect, sending a ringing note through the stage.

Before the note had even dispersed, Jeanne skipped out and began charging a Shock Wave. Her electrical reserves were running low and it took longer than I'd have liked, giving Lisia a final second to respond.

"Mirror Move! Meet them head on!"

"Swa-blu!" Ali cried with exertion. A haze of blue surrounded his body lethargically. For a moment, I thought this was my win. I genuinely didn't think he'd be able to use Mirror Move in time to counter the Shock Wave.

Then, as if to personally prove me wrong, he pulled through. The phantasmal image of Jeanne's fluffy form coalesced into being. Electricity crackled as Shock Wave met its perfect mirror image. The world dissolved to just the stage and its two pokemon, the golden firework blooming between them.

As the sparks faded, the final buzzer chimed.

I smiled ruefully at that. I'd been keeping an eye on the points and we were both down to mere slivers. With the "rally" ending in what could charitably called a tie, we'd likely both lose some points. And considering who'd started this match with more, I had a feeling I knew the winner.

I looked up at the projector and chuckled. Sure enough, my bar was empty. Lisia's had the slightest sliver left.

"Wow, what a performance! But when the curtain falls, it's Lisia and Ali who are still standing!" the emcee shouted, ignoring the tired but perfectly fine flaaffy. "Let's give it up for the contest victor!"

Jeanne trotted back to me, her head down. Her tail-bulb dragged along the ground despondently. "Flaaf…"

"You did great, Jeanne," I pulled her into a hug and whispered into her ear. "The fire dance was inspired. Absolutely radiant."

"Flaaffy?"

"No, I'm not mad at you, or even at myself. We were good; Lisia and Ali were better today. That's all."

"Flaaffy. Flaaf-flaaffy."

"Yeah, it's fun, isn't it?" I replied with a beaming smile.

"Flaaf?"

It felt great, to be honest. In battle, I truly believed that Artoria and I had no equals, at least none our age.

Clearly, things were different here in the contest circuit. We had Lisia taking Jeanne and I to school. I wasn't mad; I was thrilled. Whatever there was to say about contest battles not being "real" battles, it was exciting to have someone to chase after.

"We're going to do this again someday, as ampharos and altaria. Mega ampharos and altaria, even. This isn't over," I promised.

"Flaaffy!" Jeanne bleated back, full of her usual good cheer. She was fired up again, sparks dancing along her stubby horns.

With my partner cheered up, I walked over to Lisia and gave her a congratulatory hug. "You were great, Lis."

"So were you! That fire dance! And the halo you made out of Round!" she babbled happily. It was touching; the contest, the performance, truly was everything to her. That she won meant less than nothing to her, only that we'd given people something to talk about.

"And how long have you been holding Mirror Move in your back pocket, hmm?" I said, pulling away to give her a cheeky smirk.

"So long! Winona's swellow taught us how! That look on your face when we sent the Shock Waves back was great!"

"You know that won't work next time, right?"

"Of course not! I'm looking forward to it!"

"Well, shall we greet your adoring fans?"

"Huh? Aaron!" she squeaked. I'd grabbed her hand and held it up like she was a boxing champion. I had no title belt to give her, but Ali settling tiredly atop her head sufficed.

For all her skill, beauty, and natural charisma, she was oddly weak to praise, especially when it was directed at her and not at Ali. She'd grow out of this, I knew; she was destined to be Hoenn's number one idol after all, but that just meant I should savor her embarrassment while I still could.

X

"You were great, both of you," Chaz said, only a little bitterly.

Defeat stung, but I had a feeling he'd just have to learn to cope. There were stars in every generation, but ours happened to be especially star-studded. Lisia. Drew. Onale. In about a year, May. And, if I was so bold, myself. And then there was Solidad, as well as other coordinators who traveled through multiple regions.

"Aww, thanks, Chaz, you're sweet," Lisia said, making the blonde flush.

"I-I'm just telling the truth."

Pitiful, but in an oddly adorable way. He reminded me of all the awkward, cringey things I'd done as a high schooler. Honestly? Compared to my bumbling attempts at flirting as a teenager my first time around, Chaz was a regular Casanova.

We were walking back to our rooms in the pokemon center. The contest had started in the morning and ended around three or four, giving us a bit of time before dinner. Seeing how we had time to kill, I decided to throw the kid a bone.

Besides, his fumbling flirting was hilarious.

I saddled up to him, putting Lisia behind me, and slung an arm around his shoulder. "Say, Mr. Third Place."

"Aaron," Lisia said chidingly.

"What? I'm just saying, isn't there a promise you gotta cough up?"

"What promise?" Chaz said, looking more confused than upset.

"You don't remember? You said you'd buy the winner a drink, right?" I said, giving him an exaggerated wink. I thumbed the oblivious girl behind me. "What? Just because I'm not the one with the ribbon doesn't mean you get to welch on our bet."

"I don't-Ah! Yeah! L-Let's go to a cafe, Lisia!" he said, a little slow to catch on to be smooth, but that's what made it funny to me.

"You don't have to, you know," Lisia said with a disapproving eye towards me. "Don't let Aaron bully you into buying me sweets."

"A man's gotta keep his promises!"

"Mhmm, sure…"

My job done, I tried to make my getaway. "Alright, you two have fun. I'm going to go back to the center and–"

Whatever I was going to say died in my throat, strangled by my tie. To my surprise, it was Chaz who caught me.

"Now, now," he said hurriedly. "Y-You did do better than me so how about I treat you as well?"

"Hmm… My team too, right?" I asked leadingly.

"Of course! Just come with us!"

He looked at me with pleading eyes that almost made me bust a gut then and there. It was like watching a dog that finally caught the mail truck. He had a cafe date with Lisia, but now what?

Now, he'd have to chat up the girl, carry a conversation and be interesting. He'd have to pull off more than that suave, pretty boy schtick he liked to go for. A cool, handsome man who behaved like life was his personal runway was one thing, but being genuinely charming and engaging was something else.

The panic in his eyes as the implications of my departure sank in was one I'd hold over his head his entire life.

X

That was how we ended up at the Hard Geodude Cafe sipping a "pecha fizzy," which was just a slushie with a different sticker slapped on top. It was good for what it was, and our pokemon enjoyed the poffins Chaz bought for the table.

"This is so good," Lisia cooed. "Thanks, Chaz. I think Ali likes his poffin as much as he likes his new ribbon."

"It's nothing," he said, doing that hair-flippy thing again. "I made a promise and I'm keeping it."

"Of course. You know, I learned a lot from this contest, Aaron."

"Hmm?" I asked, curious.

"Ali has a lot of fine control, but I think we're lacking power and stamina. Really, if we didn't have the points buffer from the appeals round, I think you and Jeanne might have won."

"That's a possibility, yes," I said. "I haven't been stressing Jeanne's utility options as much as I should have either. She knows Light Screen from Artoria but can't use it with anything near Artoria's control and that cost us. We could have blocked the Round much more effectively for example."

"I guess we're on opposite sides of the spectrum then."

"Yeah, I guess we are."

"And where do Macherie and I stand?" Chaz asked.

"Probably closer to Lisia than me. Macherie knows a lot of moves from TMs like Rock Tomb and Light Screen, but she felt somewhat inexperienced in combat. If you're asking for my opinion, I think you should train her to rely on her natural martial arts more. You know, physical conditioning, sparring, that sort of thing."

"She's not a battler."

"You decided she wasn't a battler, Chaz. She's a machop; combat is literally part of her DNA. Besides, didn't you spend our match trying to close distance with Jeanne? And then losing up close anyway because Jeanne has tons of experience fighting up close and Macherie doesn't?" I pointed out.

"I… That's fair," he said with a sigh. "But where do I even start? I'm not some sword-nut like you."

"By letting Macherie fight a lot," Lisia chimed in. "Uncle Wal says newly evolved poliwrath have an intuitive understanding of grappling moves like Submission. I bet Macherie already knows karate. Wasn't karate based off of a machop's movements anyway? You just need to give her the room to master it."

"You're right. Will you help me, Aaron? You have a fighting type, right?"

I nodded. How could I deny the chance to teach again? "Of course, I'd be happy to. Durvasa will teach Macherie while I teach you. Wake up at sunrise."

"What? Why me too?"

"Because fighting types respect strength. If not strength, effort. You need to show Macherie that you're serious."

"That's no reason to wake up at the crack of dawn!"

"You're right. My amusement is the reason."

"And if I don't?" he asked defiantly.

I grinned like a shark. "You will."

Author's Note

Contest battles are hard. Lisia and Ali win on style and creative use of moves, but Aaron and Jeanne would stomp them in a normal battle.

For anyone who was keeping count, Ali the swablu knows nine whole moves. More, he's good enough to modify them mid-combat to suit the opponent. Sure, none of them are "top tier," but I wanted it to be obvious how gifted he was for their current level. He is flexible in a way that no other pokemon Aaron's ever met is.

Poor Chaz. Time to get swole.

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