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

[Fabled Webs]

Appetizer 1.1

Aaron Kanda-Locke
Arlington, VA, USA

I dodged Luke's mace and jabbed with my longsword towards his armpit. He replied by tucking his arms and stepping into the jab for a rising backhand.

The grip on my sword shifted subtly. I stepped forward to meet him, making the head of the mace sail behind me. The pommel of my sword was held so it jutted out towards his hand.

"Gah! Shit," he yelped as his own momentum knocked his weapon out of his hand.

I smiled and sheathed the sword. "Good match, Luke."

He shook off the numbness in his hand and retrieved his mace. "Yeah, damn good trick there. I didn't think you could aim for a small target like that, especially if you're not cutting at it."

"Takes some practice is all. It's why I'm the instructor and you're the assistant."

"Yeah, yeah. Weren't you some kendo guy too?"

"A bit," I demurred.

It was a bit more than "a bit" though. I started kendo at the age of eight after seeing my big brother get into karate and wanting something different but equally cool. Five years later, I reached one-kyū at the age of thirteen, the junior version of the first dan and as high a rank as a minor was allowed to have. I kept up with it for most of my life, even competing at the World Kendo Championships in Japan and coming in fourth in the men's individual bracket.

After hitting sixth-dan at the age of thirty-six, I retired from the sport because I felt that going any higher wasn't likely because of the ultra-traditionalist sentiment among higher ranked masters. In the eyes of the eighth-dan grandmasters, being half-gaijin was as good as not being Japanese at all.

I was now thirty-eight, but I'd still be a bit embarrassed if I lost a duel to some brat.

Looking to the side, I saw Kevin, our newest, sparring against Stacy, one of my assistants. They were both using a spear and shield, though it was abundantly clear that Stacy was dancing circles around the poor lad.

"One more?" Luke called.

"Haven't had enough of a beating yet?"

"You don't hit hard, old man. It's all speed and technique with you."

"Speed and technique are what differentiates a great swordsman from a good one."

I drew my sword and took a ready grip. HEMA, Historical European Martial Arts, I'd picked up from a friend in high school named Carl. He was everything that I wanted to be at the time: tall, good looking, and popular. I was fourteen when he introduced HEMA to me and though it was always second on my priority list behind kendo, I was glad to have picked it up.

I'd tried several weapons over the decades, but I preferred the longsword because it was the closest analog to a katana. It wasn't a one for one comparison, but it didn't have to be. The speed and versatility were what I was after; if I wanted another katana, I'd have dropped HEMA long ago.

Luke came in low this time and swung for my torso with a soft grunt. I stepped back and readily gave ground, one of the disadvantages of voluntarily foregoing a shield, and rang his helmet with a swift retaliatory strike. Our eyes met as he acknowledged the point and returned to his ready stance.

Luke was the oldest in the club after me at twenty-eight and far too experienced to give me any more free points after that blunder so we circled each other as he took my probing jabs on his raised shield.

That was fine. He'd get impatient soon.

Sure enough, he rushed forward, trying his best to get past my guard with a shield charge.

I skipped backwards and to the side, allowing him to run past me.

He expected that. He turned on a dime and followed me with the mace, forcing me to duck. But that left his armpits open and a swift stab forced him to reel himself in.

We traded several more blows. That was the big difference between HEMA and kendo; most HEMA clubs weren't as structured as a kendo dojo. There were rules, as any sport involving weapons required, but while a kendo match was over in a few lightning-fast strikes, HEMA put a greater premium on stamina.

Then, I made a fatal mistake.

We got so into our spar that we didn't see Stacy and Kevin. Or perhaps, it was they who approached us.

It didn't matter.

Stacy got her spear past Kevin's shield and landed a vicious stab into his bicep even as he was making his own thrust. Her attack made him release his grip unexpectedly and the spear sailed past the assistant instructor, landing just beside me as I was stepping away from Luke's mace.

I couldn't correct my step and my foot landed on the haft of the spear, rolling my ankle. As I fell, I felt a heavy impact against my head. Belatedly, I realized that Luke hadn't stopped his blow in time either, connecting with my head as I tripped.

My head bounced against the floor and, helmet or not, that was the last I knew of life as Aaron Kanda-Locke.

X​

Aaron Fulan
Mossdeep City, Hoenn Region

I awoke to the most agonizing headache of my life. Both lives, as it turned out.

I was Aaron Kanda-Locke, a swordmaster of both kendo and HEMA. I lived a good life until a freak accident at the club.

I was Aaron Fulan, eldest son of Sharon Fulan, the gym leader of Mossdeep City, and Jin Fulan, an astronaut who sought to find evidence of extraterrestrial pokémon. I had two adorable little siblings, Tate and Liza Fulan, twins who were three years younger than me.

'At least I'm still named Aaron,' I thought sardonically. 'God forbid I be called something different. Or is it "Arceus forbid" now?'

Then the emotions came, like thunder that followed the lightning as Young-Aaron's memories became my own.

There was fondness there. This version of me grew up in a comfortable home. The Fulan family wasn't living in the lap of luxury like the Stones, but we were well off. What we lacked in raw wealth we more than made up for in prestige. Being a gym leader meant something. At the bare minimum, past me knew he had it good.

There was love too. Young-Aaron really loved his little siblings. He snuck them candy whenever he could and did his best to make sure Liza wouldn't tease her little brother too much. He was also the one who comforted them when his mother's lessons would get too harsh.

And then there was the bitterness and resentment.

Sharon Fulan, formerly Sharon Summers, the Oracle of Mossdeep. She was a Summers, the last of the family who ruled Mossdeep City since before the founding of the Hoenn League. She may have given up her last name when she married dad, a trainer from Kanto, but she sure as hell didn't give up her family legacy. That is, the gym.

The gym was everything to her. It was so important that when Drake, champion at the time, offered her a position as one of his Elite Four twelve years ago, she turned him down.

She was that good, a psychic mistress who possessed immense personal and political power as the head of the traditional bloc in Hoenn politics.

And I had the dubious privilege of being her eldest son.

That alone wouldn't be so bad. The problem was, I wasn't talented enough for mother dearest. Oh, compared to most, I was a prodigy, but that wasn't good enough for mom, wasn't good enough for the gym.

Something about being twins had boosted my siblings' psychic affinities to astronomical levels. They were able to bend a spoon when they were four years old. They were holding entire conversations between them with telepathy at the age of seven. Presently, at ten, they could even fly for short periods if they wanted to.

I couldn't do any of that.

What I could do was see emotions as colors. Cool. Useful. But… It wasn't telekinesis. It wasn't telepathy. It wasn't divination. And that meant it wasn't good enough for Sharon Fulan.

The day that the twins bent their first spoon, she sat me down and told me in no uncertain terms that they were heirs, not me. I was seven at the time.

Fucking seven.

Back then, I didn't understand the difference between being her son and being the heir. When mom told me I couldn't be the next gym leader, all I heard was that mom didn't want me anymore. I cried myself to sleep for weeks until dad came home from his astronaut training. It was the first true fight they had. Shouting, telekinetically thrown vases, the whole shebang.

I got over it… kind of.

Dad and I had a long talk. He explained what being the heir meant and how it wasn't that mom iddn't love me anymore. He made me promise that I wouldn't hold it against Tate and Liza. They hadn't done anything.

I grew up. Eventually, I even forgave mom when I discovered just what the colors I saw meant. She loved me… in her own hardass, fucked up, kick the chick off a cliff so it can learn to fly sort of way. We weren't really the same, but I at least did understand that the gym should go to the most talented.

Still, she was why I had mommy issues in this life. Issues up the fucking wazoo.

I felt my memories settle as the glow of tranquil blue approached from beyond the walls.

"Aaron? Bro? You up? You're going to be late!" Liza's voice came through the door.

"Yeah, I'm coming," I called.

Today was special. Today, at the age of thirteen, I was to become a trainer in truth. I was being kicked out of my house. Tate and Liza were going to be fostered at the gym, learning from our mother to become the psychic masters they could be. Me? The journey was all but forced on me.

I had one shot to pass the TLE, the trainer licensing exam. If I failed for whatever reason, I would be forced to take a civilian career path. It wasn't as though I couldn't take the TLE again, but my family played against me here too. No second chances. If I failed, mother dearest would pull every string she could to deny me a life as a trainer.

"I'd be doing both you and the League a favor," she'd said in that haughty, dismissive tone of hers. "If you can't even pass the basic exam, you're more likely to die out there."

That was the second time she and dad fought. But as always, she got her way in the end.

'Doesn't matter,' I thought as the white aura of resolve circled around me. 'I'm going to pass and make her eat her fucking words.'

I sighed. It was a little unnerving how quickly Young-Aaron's dreams became my own, but that was fine. I always liked Pokémon as a franchise anyway. I was twelve back when Yellow came out.

If anything, I was incredibly fortunate. Growing up in a psychic gym meant I at least picked up how to keep my thoughts to myself. Sure, mom could barge her way through my mind if she wanted, but it was such a huge breach of privacy that she literally threatened to murder one of her trainers when he did it to someone else.

X​

I stepped into the testing hall. Lucky for me, it was at the trainer school. The building was fairly new, less than six years old. It was also the most advanced trainer school in Hoenn. Not that we had the highest grades or anything, but in a more literal sense: It was the most technologically advanced school in Hoenn. Because the Mossdeep Space Center was located here, all of the best and brightest in the region tended to gather in our city, which also extended to teachers. The trainer school had an excellent relationship with the space center and we often got leftover or outdated tech passed onto us.

"Aaron," my mother called. I turned to see her aura flicker blue and white with a tinge of purple. "I expect excellence."

Blue. Peace. White. Willpower. Purple. Love. I rolled my eyes. She was just as bad as pre-Red Sabrina. No, that wasn't quite fair. At least she wasn't a crime lord? "Love you too, mom."

I swore, something about unlocking powerful psychic abilities as a kid fucked up a person. It was why I doted on Tate and Liza so. I was hoping that if I gave them all the affection my hardass mom and absentee dad didn't give them, they'd be semi-functional adults without the angst and awkwardness.

I went to my class and sat down without speaking to anyone. It wasn't as though I had many friends. That was somewhat difficult when all the parents were intimidated by my mom or all the kids were envious of being a gym leader's son. Seeing their emotions wasn't nearly as fun as it sounded.

The exam itself was… trivial.

It was divided into three sections: pokémon, wilderness survival, and laws and regulations. The first asked everything that old-me would have expected: type charts, dual type identification, general diet, et cetera. To someone raised by a gym leader, it was insultingly easy.

The third was similarly simple thanks to young-me's background, but there was a surprisingly large number of regulations that a new trainer had to be aware of. The badges, their gyms, and the start of each season was obvious. Emergency response standard operating procedures and the obligations of trainers at each badge level were less so.

Still, it was the second that gave me the most trouble. Mossdeep was the largest island in the Hoenn Region short of Ever Grande itself, but being an island meant there weren't many places available for practical survival training. I did well, but I knew for a fact that I lost some points here.

After our theoreticals, we were taken to the quad where the practicals began.

First, a proctor brought out his pokémon, an exploud, and had it use a series of moves. We were told to identify as many as we could, a task made all the harder by the sheer diversity of moves available to a well-trained normal type.

Second, we were paired off and handed a school-approved zigzagoon. The battle, if it could be called that, was testing for our ability to command under pressure. The task itself wasn't particularly difficult, all of us knew what a zigzagoon could do by heart now, but it wasn't supposed to be. The pressure of encountering a new pokémon and immediately being thrown into a battle was enough to make many of us fumble and forget all we'd studied.

Last came the wilderness survival practicals. We had to identify edible berries out of a basket, start a fire, and cook a meal. Then, we were told to set up a tent, demonstrate ropework, and prove we could signal for help using the League-mandated ranger emergency codes.

X​

My results came in the mail a week after the exam: Ninety-three in the survival practicals, eighty-two in the survival theoreticals, but otherwise perfect all around for an impressive four-seventy-five out of five hundred.

"Only? Well, at least you only lost points in wilderness survival," mom said with an arched brow. "Anything else would have been embarrassing."

"Don't say that, Sharon," dad said, his aura tinged with the purple of love and red of annoyance. It was one of the few nights when he was home early enough for a family dinner. "That's what? Ninety-five percent? You did amazingly well, Aaron. I definitely didn't score that high."

"Thanks, dad," I said.

"He knows what I meant," she huffed.

"It's not hard to say 'You did well,' dear."

Mom looked at me with an imperious expression before her façade broke. "You… Your performance was… adequate," she finished.

"Thanks, mom," I said with a sigh. That was as good as I'd get with her.

Dad rolled his eyes but he wasn't fooling me. There was love there, but also a fair bit of pink, lust. He apparently had a thing for awkward girls. He wasn't fooling the twins either. Unlike the rest of our family, he wasn't really a part of the gym and so never learned how to shield his emotions and thoughts. They didn't get "the talk" so much as exposure by proximity.

Yeah, we made ourselves scarce real fast after that.

X​

I stood in the gym lobby as I'd done a thousand times before. But this time, I stood shoulder to shoulder with another nine students, all high scorers like me. Mom, Gym Leader Fulan now, looked us over one by one.

"You are here because you each passed the trainer licensing exam with flying colors. For your stellar performance, I congratulate you and welcome you into the ranks of Hoenn's trainers," she began, sounding perfectly professional and poised.

I knew better. Dad wrote the speech because mom was too socially awkward to say anything complimentary about us. Hell, I knew for a fact that she was using her divination to read the speech that she'd left on her desk for that exact purpose. I met her gaze and allowed my eyes to trail up towards her office with a smug smirk.

A sharp telekinetic jab made me jolt.

"As you are the ten highest scoring students from Mossdeep Trainer School, you have earned the right to receive a starter from my gym. I will now call you into my office one by one according to your score where you will be permitted to make your choice in private. Aaron Fulan."

"Yes, ma'am."

The whispers began immediately.

"Must be nice to be a parachute."

"Silver spoon much?"

"He's her son, of course he's first."

Mom turned towards them with a cold glare, shutting them up instantly. I'd seen her quell an ornery walrein in the middle of a mating season with that glare. A bunch of thirteen year old brats stood no chance.

"You will go last," she said. "You were the highest scoring student at the academy and thus given the chance to select a Hoenn starter from Professor Birch. You gave up that choice, correct?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Then you have already made your decision and so will be moved to the back of the queue."

I nodded. That was expected; she'd warned me as much. It was a good chance to show how few fucks she gave about me being her son here. I always wanted a psychic anyway and wasn't too picky about the exact species. I felt I knew them best in this life, for obvious reasons, and I could more easily bond with a pokémon whose intelligence was similar to my own.

And, if I was being honest with myself, in the darkest corner of my mind, I admitted that I wanted one to nurture my own powers. I wanted to prove mom wrong, to become a powerful psychic in my own right. I wouldn't be the first to develop psychic abilities after training a psychic type after all, and unlike most, I had a hell of a head start.

She called the second place student and led the girl into her office. Then the third, fourth, fifth, and sixth. One by one, each new trainer emerged from her office with a wide grin, ready to be the next Sabrina or Will or Caitlin. They were almost certainly in for a horrible disappointment.

I walked into her office and looked around. Despite her being mom, I seldom spent any time here. There was a family photo in one corner, but it was small, smaller than the average wallet. The rest of her office was dominated by shelves and shelves of books. About half of them were books written by my extended family, back when they were alive. The rest were journal articles about psychics, psychology, or some other pertinent subject.

"Aaron," mom drew my attention back to her. In her hand was a pokéball. "This is the only one left. Now, are you certain you don't want a Hoenn starter?"

"Didn't you say that ship's sailed?"

"I did. I lied. I had Professor Birch hold off on naming the three for you. Last chance."

I raised a brow at her. It was as good as an "I love you" from her. She never gave second chances. But… But she was here… and it made me nervous.

"Okay, what's wrong with that one?"

"Nothing, per se. The ralts inside is prodigious, amazingly talented if I'm to be truthful."

"Cool, I love ralts. They're one of my favorite pokémon. You know that."

"Very well." She lazily tossed the ball on the ground and the ralts popped out amidst a cloud of shimmering lights.

I stood in awe. As far as young-Aaron was concerned, it was a ralts. Great, but nothing to go gaga over. Old-Aaron shoved young-Aaron into a dark corner in my mind. A real, breathing pokémon was standing before me.

It held in its hand a single silver spoon, the sort used by mom's gym pokémon to practice their psychic abilities.

And then, its eyes met mine. It then did something I didn't expect: It spoke.

Not literally, it wasn't Team Rocket's meowth, but it spoke through telepathy.

'Greetings,' it said. Its mental voice was clear and high, pure like a single piano note. 'Are you my liege?'

I looked at mom. "I know what you mean by 'prodigious.' Did you save the strongest ralts for me?"

"No, of course not."

"Then how wasn't this one claimed already? Telepathy at what? A year old? That's stupid-fast, even for a psychic type."

"Indeed. No one wanted this ralts."

I wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth. Clearly, I'd lucked out with the most promising specimen. "I'm your trainer," I told it.

The ralts continued to take me by surprise. It took two steps, tiny seeing how it was barely above a foot tall, and knelt. It fell onto one knee, hilariously cute seeing how it was wearing that overlarge white robe. Then, flourishing its spoon, it presented the utensil to me on both palms and spoke.

'Then you are my lord and master. I solemnly swear before the Origin of All: I will be your sword and shield. I will cut down your enemies. I will defend you against every strife. Your dreams will be my own, your dearest wish my reason for being. This squire swears to be your most loyal knight!'

"Umm… What the hell?"

"Remember, I gave you a chance." There was a bone-deep weariness in my mom's tone. I didn't think she could emote that well…

"He's super advanced already. Why wouldn't I want him? The rest of the kids were clearly idiots," I said. I too got on one knee and addressed him. "Hey, I'm sure you'll make a fantastic knight one day and I'd be proud to call you my partner."

'R-Really?' he said, voice ringing like the purest bell. 'Y-You mean it? Truly?'

"Yeah, you'll become a wonderful gallade. I promise."

The ralts froze, his smile turned brittle as the purple of love and joy turned yellow and red.

"Aaron, dear," mom said. "That ralts is female."

Author's Note

Yep. Pokémon. It's my favorite fandom of all time.

I decided that his last name should be Fulan because Fu is the name of Tate in Japanese and Lan is Liza's. Their father is a canonical character but their mother is not. I figured that having their mom be the previous gym leader would be the easiest way to explain why two children held the prestigious seventh badge.

I just thought it'd be hilarious to have a female ralts that wants to be a swordmaster.

The start of this fic is one big reference to the running gag in Adventures that psychics have an innate affinity for spoons. More on that later.

 

[Fabled Webs]

Appetizer 1.2

Aaron Fulan
Mossdeep City, Hoenn Region

I knelt in my mom's office, staring at the ralts as my brain tried to reboot.

"You're… You're a girl."

'I am.' Her voice rang in my mind like a chimecho's bell. The aura of pure joy at finally being accepted had transitioned now to the yellow of fear tinged with the red of irritation and anger. 'Sorry to disappoint you.'

In my defense, feminine and masculine voices tended to be harder to tell apart when physical sound wasn't in the picture.

"Her father is Quinn," mom clarified.

"Your gallade."

"Indeed. And she has developed an incredible admiration for her father. She insists on using only physical attacks, much like he does."

"Umm, you know that you cannot become a gallade, right?" I tried.

'Yes.'

"But you're only going to learn physical attacks?"

'Yes,' she nodded resolutely. The white of willpower blazed around her. This clearly wasn't something she could be swayed from.

"You know that Quinn can use ranged attacks too, right? Like Aura Sphere, Air Slash, and Dazzling Gleam?"

I want to master the sword before I explore other options,' she said firmly.

"What… What physical attacks can a ralts learn?"

"Knock Off. Thief. Façade… potentially," mom said.

'I will not learn Thief,' the little knight told us. 'That is dishonorable.'

"At the moment, she knows Shadow Sneak, Confusion, and Growl."

I glanced at her spoon. It got me thinking. 'Shadow Sneak isn't nothing. It's pretty good, actually, assuming she can use the ghost type move well… but that's not likely at her age… A gardevoir that focuses on close combat… Is that possible? Well, a gardevoir is called "sirknight" in Japanese… And I already know where the gardevoirite is in theory…'

"I'll take her," I said.

"What?"

'Y-You will?'

"Yes." I looked down at the shocked little ralts. "I think that maybe, just maybe, it hasn't been done because no one's ever tried. We won't know until we try, right?"

I didn't know if this world followed the Adventures timeline or the Omega Ruby/Alpha Sapphire timeline, or perhaps some unholy mix of the anime, games, and manga, but I knew one thing: Psychics had an extraordinary affinity for spoons.

This wasn't a social construct either, nor was it a quirk exclusive to the abra line. Wild alakazam fashioned spoons for themselves out of the purest silver, traveling thousands of miles to find silver if they must. Espurr in Kalos looked for spoons to use as mirrors to groom themselves. No matter what, psychics all over the world favored the spoon shape as a generalist medium. Even hypno would forego their pendulums for spoons should they require a divination tool.

Psychics instinctively, impulsively, inexplicably sought spoons. Even here in Mossdeep, amidst a clan known for psychics since the start of written history, we didn't know exactly why this was. Our best guess was that the spoon amplified brainwaves of some sort, but as for why wild psychic pokémon instinctively knew that, we had no clue.

Still, looking at my ralts as she wielded that spoon as tall as her body like a giant sword made me think of something. Or rather, a certain bipedal, spoon-wielding bipedal cat…

Perhaps this was possible after all.

Even if nothing I knew ended up being valid, I decided then and there that the pure joy and delight on my new partner's face made this decision worth it.

"Mom, I want ralts as my partner."

She looked between us and sighed. "Very well. I… I wish you the best of luck."

X​

That night, I packed everything I would need in my hammerspace backpack, one of the primary benefits of being in the pokémon world. Tomorrow, I would be taking a boat to Slateport City, where I'd begin my gym challenge.

Strictly speaking, I could begin my challenge right here. There wasn't some rule that said I had to take the same path as Brendan and May. But I knew better. Tackling mom as things stood would be asking to die. She took no shit from anyone and would probably send out pokémon rated for third or fourth badge trainers just to prove to people that she wouldn't show me any favoritism.

So, I would be starting with Wattson.

Or more specifically, I would be training around Slateport City for a few weeks until I could get my partner up to snuff.

I double-checked my bags then crawled into bed. I was about to turn out the lights but saw my little knight kneeling by the door. Her silver spoon was gripped in both hands, ready to smite any intruders. Or give them a good laugh.

"Artoria?"

'Yes, my liege?' her voice rang in my mind, crisp and clear as usual. With a personality like that, what else could I name her but the King of Knights?

"You can call me Aaron," I said, already for the eighth time that night.

'I cannot. You are my lord and master. I am your loyal knight.'

"You called yourself a squire when you first introduced yourself."

'T-That is… I shall one day become a knight!'

I didn't mention how cute she was when she got all flustered, but I was positive she could feel my emotions plain as day. Ralts were sensitive to this sort of thing anyway.

"My partner is such a chuuni," I laughed.

'I do not know what a chuuni is, my lord, but I feel that it is not a flattering moniker.'

"It's not, but it's cute so it's fine. Anyway, what are you doing?"

'I am guarding your rest. Please go to sleep knowing you are safe.'

I sighed and got out of bed. Two large strides brought me to her. I scooped up my kneeling protector with a single hand. Another second later, I was tucked back in my cozy bed.

'W-What are you doing? M-My lord?'

"Sleeping, which you will do immediately," I said dryly. "Lord's command. A knight can't disobey her lord, right?"

'Hauuuu…'

"Good night, Artoria."

'G-Good night…'

I'd make a knight of her… starting tomorrow…

X​

Aaron Fulan
The Sour Qwilfish, Hoenn Region

The Sour Qwilfish, despite the somewhat suspicious name, was a mid-sized passenger vessel. It wasn't a cruise ship necessarily, but nor was it a simple speedboat. It had cabins and amenities if not luxuries. Which was great news, considering I'd be on it for a full ten days while the ship circled around Sootopolis and to Slateport.

After bidding the twins goodbye and promising to call after dinner every night, I boarded the ship and dumped everything in my cabin before making a beeline towards the training area. The training area was really just the aft, sectioned off with a rope so small and mid-sized pokémon could do some training. It wasn't large, but a good twenty pokémon could use it at the same time if they weren't all throwing around ranged attacks everywhere.

That wouldn't be a problem for Artoria.

The two of us received some odd looks as I instructed Artoria in the finer points of swordsmanship.

I did put some thought into it last night. I practiced two styles of swordsmanship in my past life: HEMA and competition kendo. To be clear, competitive kendo was very different from what historical samurai would have been familiar with, a sport rather than a killing art. Even so, I settled on teaching my burgeoning King Knights kendo before anything else for one simple reason: She was far, far too weak.

Gardevoir were not known for their physical prowess, and that deficiency was made all the more clear in a ralts. If I tried to teach a foot-tall ralts the finer points of HEMA, she'd almost certainly hurt herself trying. So, basic kendo it was.

"Hah," I cried out, using a sawn off broom handle to demonstrate the proper form.

'Hah!' she echoed, her mental voice ringing in my head.

"Ralts!" everyone else heard.

She swung her spoon valiantly in a textbook overhead strike, a "men" towards the head. I occasionally stopped her to nudge her footing in proper place or to remind her to mind her grip. The grip was especially important in kendo. You could not hold the sword like a baseball bat and swing for the fences; a proper grip relied on putting a little distance between each hand to use a push-pull motion of the arms like a lever, imparting greater speed and force from a relatively small twist of the hands.

Artoria wasn't stupid; she knew this. The trouble was that she was swinging a spoon. And a spoon was a rather unbalanced weapon. It was unwieldy and top-heavy for her diminutive size. She was effectively swinging a halberd like a katana and it was a struggle for her just to keep her proper form.

I let her continue the seemingly pointless task for three reasons.

First, any school of swordsmanship, regardless of origin, required that you be able to swing a sword without tiring. She needed more muscles in other words, the right kind of muscles.

Second, and I didn't think even she noticed, she was using Confusion. She was using Confusion to reinforce her grip, probably subconsciously, such was her focus. I hoped that eventually, this would turn into something more intentional, more directed, than mere instinct. Without even realizing, she was developing physical reinforcement along the same vein as Agility.

Lastly, and just as important as the other reasons, she looked adorable.

"Umm…" came a voice to my right. Turning, I saw an older girl, about sixteen, in a sky-blue one-piece swimsuit. On her shoulder rode a wingull. "Your ralts is… What is your ralts doing?"

"Learning the way of the sword," I said glibly.

"Is he going to be a gallade? You must be really lucky to have a dawn stone."

"Nope, that's a she."

"What? Why?"

"Why not? She likes it so I'm teaching her kendo."

She looked at me before shrugging helplessly. "Suit yourself. Amanda, by the way."

"Aaron. What are you doing in Slateport?"

"Visiting family. You?"

"Gym challenge. I'm thinking of heading up to Mauville for my first badge. I hear Wattson's pretty nice to newcomers."

"Ehh? I… Um… I wouldn't have pegged you as a battler," she said hesitantly.

"Oh?"

"Like, no offense, but… You're teaching a female ralts swordsmanship. I thought you were trying out for a contest or something."

"Nah, I have a plan. Sort of."

"If you say so…"

She shook her head as she walked away. She wasn't the first to look at me like I was a loon, but Artoria and I paid them no mind.

I stopped Artoria after fifteen minutes. "Artoria, come here."

'Yes, my liege?'

"We're going to stop practicing the overhead strike for a while."

'I can keep going,' she protested.

"You probably could, but your form is getting sloppy. All you'll be doing then is reinforcing bad habits."

I held out my hand. By now, she knew that it meant I expected her to hop on. I wasn't about to wait around for her stubby little feet to catch up after all. She floated with Confusion before alighting onto my palm, all the while grumbling about the improperness of using her lord as a mount. I held her in a gentle caress with both hands, in much the same way as I was taught to hold parakeets and hamsters in my past life.

'Not proper,' she sulked.

"Just come with me," I told her. "I've got another way to train and we might as well get out of people's ways."

'What shall I be doing?'

"You're going to jump."

I took her to a small sand pit dug into one corner of the aft, mostly for baby pokémon and children to play in. There, I took up a small section and smoothed out the sand. "Okay, Artoria. The technique I'm going to teach you is called Mana Burst. It was used by Artoria, the legendary knight you're named after."

'Truly? I shall learn such a splendid technique?' Her eyes were shining. More than that, there was an almost palpable aura of excitement around her. 'My lord is the greatest! I shall serve you with my every being!'

Not for the first time, I was glad everyone else could only hear happy "Ralts! Ralts!" noises. No one else needed to know what a chuuni my partner was.

"Well, here's how it works. The goal is to reinforce your body with psychic energy. After you do that, the next step is to focus psychic power into your feet. You release that stored power just as you kick off the ground, letting you travel faster and farther. Make sense?"

'I believe so.'

"Good, do that and see how high you can jump. The goal isn't to make yourself float higher with Confusion, I know you can do that already; it's to master the technique of releasing a lot of power in a single instant without hurting yourself."

'Yes, my lord. I shall practice until it becomes second nature to me and I can travel a mile with every step!'

I rolled my eyes fondly. "Okay, while you do that, I'm going to get a bit of my own workout in." This thirteen year old body was hilariously out of shape compared to my past life and it bothered me.

X​

Ten days at sea wasn't anything close to enough time to make Artoria a competent swordsman, but I was still amazed by her progress. She'd mastered Mana Burst as a gap-closer in a week and had moved on to applying the same principle to her attacks.

I didn't know if this was her own innate genius or the natural psychic affinity of the ralts line, but I could honestly say that her overhead strikes actually held some cutting power now. When she timed it right, a cut using the edge of her spoon was even more dangerous than a full-power Confusion from her at range. She had effectively learned to channel Confusion into a single, instantaneous, highly focused edge, an edge that exploded.

The trouble was getting the timing right. As with all psychic type moves, the keyword was "focus." In a vacuum, Mana Edge as we'd begun to call it, could strike with enough force to bite into stone; we knew that because a friendly traveler volunteered his graveler for the task of training dummy. After cutting deep, the psychic construct would destabilize, exploding outward in a spectacular fashion. It hadn't done too much damage to the graveler, nothing it wouldn't just heal up by eating a few rocks, but that a ralts had harmed a graveler through physical attacks at all was impressive.

Or at least, it was impressive when seen in a vacuum.

The focus required for that one attack had drained Artoria completely, leaving her staggering and panting for breath. She needed more stamina. Physically, yes, but mentally also.

Which brought me to where I was currently. Artoria and I had decided to take our meals in our room, a simple roast beef sandwich with store brand slaw and pecha berry spread. It was one of the basic meals provided by the ship since it wouldn't do to have all the trainers on board try to cook their own meals.

"Artoria," I called.

'Yes, my lord?' she responded, putting her own poffin down. Of all the varieties I'd had her try over the trip, she seemed to prefer sweet and citrusy flavors, especially those with a floral smell.

"You don't have to stop eating. It's not like you need your mouth to think at me."

'It is unknightly to not give my lord my fullest attention when I am being spoken to.'

"It's fine when I say you're excuse though?"

'Decorum is important, my lord,' she said in that adorably prim and proper tone that made me want to pinch her cheeks and give her a cookie.

I sighed and let her have this. This wouldn't be the first time she became oddly obstinate about something in the name of knightly honor, whatever that was. "Tell me, you are determined to fight only in close quarters, correct?"

'Yes, my lord.'

"I realize I should have had this conversation with you before, but why? Mom told me you really admire your father, her gallade, but I want to hear it from you."

'Father told me of the wondrous adventures he'd have at Lady Sharon's side. He once told me of how he dueled a mighty bisharp to the death to defend a town, and how he was once severely injured by a frenzied salamence. I… I admire his warrior spirit. Is… Is it so wrong for a daughter to want to follow her father's path?'

"No, of course not. I'm not saying you cannot, but you do know that even gallade know a few ranged attacks as well, right?"

She nodded. 'Yes, father's Focus Blast is amazing. I saw him down a rhyperior with one blow.'

"So why only physical attacks?"

'I… I'm…'

"You can tell me." I tried to project care and reassurance through our bond, blue and purple to offset her yellow fear. Perceiving emotions was always easier than projecting, but I thought I managed it.

'I'm afraid,' she whispered in my mind. 'I'm afraid that once I begin learning attacks suitable for a gardevoir, my lord would make me forego my chosen combat style in favor of a more effective method.'

I picked up my little knight into a hug. "I wouldn't do that," I promised her. "If this is the path you want to walk, we'll walk it together. Say, is there any reason we can't adjust other moves to be physical? We changed Confusion so you could use it with your sword, right? There's no reason we can't do that with other moves."

I wasn't an expert Move Tutor, but what was the difference between Sacred Sword and Focus Blast? Leaf Blade and Energy Ball? Shadow Claw and Shadow Ball? Why wasn't there a Lightning Blade even though so many pokémon learned Thunderbolt? It was one thing if there were clear biological limitations like an electrode not having an edge to "blade" with, but such arbitrary limitations made zero sense outside a video game context.

"I need to do some research, but I want you to learn new moves so you can incorporate them into your sword style. Would you be okay with that?"

'Yes,' she nodded resolutely. 'Yes! I will become a splendid knight for you!'

"That's great. But in the meantime, I want you to work on learning supporting moves like Double Team and Teleport. Higher mobility is just as important for a gallade as a gardevoir, right?"

'Yes, my lord. Both mother and father are masters of teleportation and could be at Lady Sharon's side in an instant to defend her. But Double Team is less honorable. It is a move good for only deceit.'

"Can your opponent use Double Team?"

'Yes.'

"And Hypnosis?"

'If they are able.'

"If a beautifly floods the field with Stun Spore, is it still honorable?"

'They are using only what the Origin gifted them. It is their primary defense so I do not hold it against them.'

"So why is it dishonorable for you to do the same?" Silence was my answer. "Well?"

'I… I suppose it would not be wrong to use Double Team.'

"Excellent. Remember, Artoria, if you want to fight up close, that's fine, but that means you should seize all other advantages open to you. It's not dishonorable to be tactically gifted."

'Yes, my lord.'

"Good. Then that's what we'll work on."

The two of us ate in silence for several minutes before I heard her voice echo in my mind. 'My lord?'

"Yes?"

'Will we ever get other teammates?'

"Afraid I'll replace you so soon?" I teased. I hugged her tight at the flicker of yellow. "You're my partner. I'm not replacing you for anything or anyone."

'I… Thank you…'

"Yes. We'll get new teammates eventually."

'All psychics?'

"No, why would you think that?"

'My apologies, my lord. I thought that you wished to prove you are a powerful psychic to Lady Sharon.'

"I do," I admitted easily. "I have mommy issues like you wouldn't believe. I'm man enough to admit that to myself. But why would that mean I can only train psychic types?"

'Umm…'

"I said I wanted to become a powerful psychic. I never said I wanted to become a psychic type trainer. My personal ambitions and my ambitions as a trainer don't have to be the same."

'So it is, my lord. Which pokémon will you seek to add to our team then?'

I shrugged. "I don't know. Whoever it is, they would need to get along well with you. Power and skill are all things that can be taught, but personality is much more difficult to work around."

'My lord is wise…'

"Your wise lord says you need a healthy diet so eat your lunch."

X​

We arrived at Slateport at three in the afternoon. The Sour Qwilfish docked at Harbor Four, fifteen minute's walk from the pedestrian beach and the Slateport Beachside Trainer School.

Artoria and I marveled at the sprawling metropolis. Unlike Rustboro, Slateport was a city that built wide and flat instead of narrow and high. There were skyscrapers, but those were few and relegated mostly to the downtown business district. Everywhere else was a mix of suburbs, open-air markets, resorts, and parks.

In fact, there seemed to be a park at least every three blocks, each with a dedicated area for pokémon, trained and wild alike, to socialize. Bridges were constructed to link many of the larger parks to one another over the street, allowing landbound pokémon to travel to and fro as they pleased. It was a harmony of nature and urban cityscape that I just couldn't find back in my past life, certainly not in a city so large.

'Beautiful,' I heard her gasp. It was an odd feeling that, hearing thoughts gasp.

"It is," I agreed. "Slateport was never a city state like Mossdeep. It's one of the newest cities in the world. It's called Slateport because a lot of the harbors were built on slate imported from the Mt. Chimney area. The entire city is only twenty-four-ish years old, which is a big part of why it hasn't been provided a gym yet."

'I see. You are well-informed, my lord.'

"Comes with having a gym leader mom. I had to study Hoenn history and politics since I was six."

'Lady Sharon must have been a demanding mistress.'

"Yeah, that's one way to put it…"

Author's Note

That comment about spoons and psychics? Yea, that's not a joke or some quirk unique to this fic. That's canon.

In the Adventures manga, Mewtwo forms a giant spoon out of psychic power and kicks the ever-loving shit out of everyone with it. He then shows up several arcs later to bisect Deoxys and several buildings with his spoon-sword.

Sabrina, a human, also shows up from time to time to give the current arc's hero/heroine a spoon of destiny (I swear I'm not making this up) that bends towards whatever the wielder needs most at the time. It's been used to help find specific trainers in an abandoned train, pair off other trainers according to personality for a tournament, or even divine which movie Whitley (Rosa in Adventures) should star in.

For real, that's how Whitley/Rosa ends up becoming a movie star in Poké Star Studios in the Adventures canon, by following the will of a fucking spoon and ending up in a Brycen-Man movie.

Psychics have an instinctive affinity for spoons.

One of these days, I want to write a fanfic of Mewtwo being isekaied into the world of Demon Slayer as a prank by Hoopa then being told he will only be allowed back into the pokémon world when he becomes the greatest swordsman in the world. Mewtwo will then travel the land, developing his own sword art as the Spoon Pillar.

Breath of Spoon First Form: Big Scoop!

As for Artoria herself, any physical move she picks up will be because there is a special move counterpart. Psychic to Psycho Cut. Energy Ball to Leaf Blade. Stuff like that. If a gardevoir doesn't have access to an element, she won't learn a blade equivalent.

Aaron was thirty-eight when he died. Pokémon came out as a series back when he was twelve or so, with Fate/Stay Night coming out about a little less than a decade later.

 

[Fabled Webs]

Spoons are a psychic's best friend. This running gag in the manga is why this fic exists.

Spoiler: Spoons are a psychic's ultimate weapon.

Spoiler: They're multi-purpose.

Spoiler: Mewtwo reappears years later with a spoon.

Spoiler: And proceeds to gut Deoxys with it.

Spoiler: Sabrina also likes spoons.

Spoiler: Or to find people.

 

[Fabled Webs]

Appetizer 1.3

Aaron Fulan
Slateport City, Hoenn Region

We checked into the nearest pokémon center, one of eight in Slateport proper, then immediately headed out to the training yard. I was incredibly fortunate. As much as my mother and I did not get along, it certainly helped to have a gym leader as powerful as her as my sponsor. All it took to reserve a room for myself was to flash my trainer ID, no payment necessary.

A sponsorship was one of those things that didn't translate to the games but was ubiquitous enough that every trainer wanted one. The sponsor would provide a small monthly stipend and other benefits depending on the organization such as professional contacts, assistance caring for pokémon beyond the party limit, and discounts on certain items and services. There were even some tournaments that could only be entered through a sponsor.

In the case of Mossdeep Gym, I, along with the nine other students who received their starters with me, got priority booking at any pokémon center for no charge, heavy discounts on government-owned ferries, and perks at other League-related facilities. The sponsorship also came with a big discount on basic pokémon-related goods such as potions and pokéballs as well as the connections to buy rarer items should we become qualified such as evolutionary stones or held items.

Lastly and most importantly, we had access to the Mossdeep Gym Archives, or at least the digitized version, a store of journals and articles concerning psychic types that some people would kill to have. In this world, training methods from masters were guarded like martial arts techniques in a xianxia novel. All ten of us could download introductory articles into our pokédexes for free, though I was the only one who got access to the journals written by the Summers family heads.

However, one caveat to having a gym as a sponsor was that mom wouldn't care for any pokémon of mine unless they were psychic types. Mossdeep was an island. I couldn't be like Ash and start my own fucking petting zoo with a herd of thirty taurus. Unless I got my own party limit increased via an advanced trainer licensing exam or caught exclusively psychic types, I was stuck at six.

In exchange for the sponsorship, we ten were required to participate in PR campaigns, wear the gym logo in tournament appearances, and generally bring good press through our success. We could also be tapped to carry out special tasks on behalf of the gym such as courier missions or, when we were appropriately advanced, lectures at trainer schools across the region on the advantages and disadvantages of psychic types. We were effectively brand ambassadors meant to prove to the rest of the region why Mossdeep was worth the respect it received.

Again, I knew I was incredibly fortunate. Even young-Aaron knew it. I knew that had I ended up with a mediocre score on the TLE, my mother would not have sponsored me, son or no. Still, even if she insisted on not giving me any special treatment, a gym sponsorship was huge. Right behind the Champion, Elite Four, and the regional lab, a sponsorship from one of the top eight gyms made you a trainer worth watching.

Which was why the nurse looked at me like I was insane. She looked over Artoria when we arrived. She knew my ralts was female.

We still had an hour or so until dinner and I was teaching Artoria the finer points of guarding, kendo style.

Artoria held her silver spoon-sword in the posture I taught her. At some unseen signal, she took a step to the side and slashed an imaginary opponent in one fluid motion. Nuki waza, or evasion technique, the most basic of the oji waza. She got ready to do it again, fifty repetitions per form.

"Stop," I told her. "Mind your footing. Your toes should point towards your opponent as much as possible. Align your toes with the direction of your sword. It's a little uncomfortable at first, but you're letting your back toes point outward. I can see them poking out through your robes."

'Yes,' she barked, immediately moving to correct herself. I loved watching her train; a halo of white flames I'd come to associate with resolve and determination surrounded her fully.

"Do you know why the placement of your toes is so important?"

'All power comes from the foundation. If my feet are pointed away from my opponent, I will turn my sword. Hesitation is weakness. Nothing less than full commitment will do.'

"Correct. There are no blocking techniques in kendo, only parries and counterattacks. If you block, you'll only be worn down and that's especially true of you when compared with more physically powerful pokémon. Nuki waza is the most important thing you can learn right now."

'Yes!'

I watched the little ralts practice and surreptitiously took some video to send to the twins. They'd fallen in love with her in the short time we'd been on Mossdeep.

"I didn't know Mossdeep Gym's trainers knew martial arts," came a voice behind me.

A brunette with a comely face and hazel eyes smiled down at me. She was in her mid-twenties, probably a nursing resident. In her hand was a cup of coffee from Moomoo Farms, a farming collective in Johto that branched out to dominate the dairy market across the Kanto, Johto, and Hoenn regions. They took over the vertical supply chain, selling everything from ice cream and cheese to coffee directly to consumers. From what I could tell, they were a bit like this world's Starbucks, but with less of a soul-sucking megacorp vibe.

"I'm special," I drawled. I looked her over and saw some amusement, though much of it was colored by friendly curiosity. "Artoria decided she wanted to be a swordmaster so I'm going to help her along."

"Artoria? Is that the name of your ralts?"

"Yeah. Coffee break?"

"Yup. She knows she can't become a gallade?"

"No, really?" I gasped. "I had no idea. I'm sure the Mossdeep Gym would love to hear about this groundbreaking discovery."

"Yeesh, sorry, no need for the sarcasm, buddy."

"Yeah, sorry. I've been hearing that all week. Just about everyone I've met told me that, as if I don't already know. Aaron by the way."

"Brenda. Well, are you going to be a coordinator? That could be kind of cool, a fencer gardevoir. You could probably show off some neat tricks like that."

"If she wants," I said. "Honestly? We'll probably give it a try at least once. I do have a plan for how to make her build work though, don't worry."

"I'll be looking forward to it then. Are you going to get her a bigger spoon when she evolves?"

"Probably."

"But… Why a spoon? I mean, it's not just your ralts, is it? I've seen so many psychics carry them around that it can't be a coincidence."

I laughed. "Yeah, it's a little silly, huh? But for whatever reason, Arceus decided that psychics have an unusual affinity for spoons, especially if they're made of silver. We don't really know why either, but barring a few exceptions, every psychic can use a spoon as a medium. It's actually become a whole subfield of study for us."

"Even a chimecho?"

"Yes. Even a chimecho, a pokémon that barely has limbs, can hold a spoon. In fact, if a chimecho channels its voice through the spoon, the reverberating note becomes noticeably clearer and even bypasses shoddier mental defenses. A chimecho that channels Heal Bell through a silver spoon has a longer range too."

"That's… bizarre."

"Pokémon usually are," I said with a sagely nod. "Are you a nursing resident?"

"Yeah, I'm in my final year of nursing school so I'm putting in my hours here."

"What's the funniest thing you've had to treat someone for?"

"Some kid thought you could evolve magnemite by sticking three of them together with superglue… I felt so bad for those poor magnemite."

"Oof, and they let him?"

"Her. And yes. She was at least smart enough to get them blissed out on a ton of electricity beforehand so they weren't in a state to protest. Probably saved her a lot of electrical burns to be honest."

"Huh, I didn't know magnemites could fall under a food coma."

"You'd be surprised." She drained the last of her Moomoo coffee and chucked it into a nearby trash can. "Well, thanks for the conversation, Aaron. I'm going to go get back to work. You know where the canteen is?"

"Yeah, I'll be around for dinner."

X​

I ended up booking a stay at the pokémon center for two weeks.

Artoria and I fell into an easy rhythm. We awoke at the crack of dawn and headed out to the training field where I oversaw her kendo forms. We practiced until she was winded and her form started to grow sloppy.

Then, we tired ourselves out running suicides from one end of the field to the other to build up speed and stamina. Both Artoria and I found it miserable; Artoria because she wasn't meant for hard physical activity and me because I lamented my lost physique.

After that came her psychic training.

As promised, we worked on new ways to improve her power and control. For this, we had two primary ways of training. I first had her channel her psychic power into the spoon and use it to lift things. She had to touch a ball with the end of her spoon and psychically connect the two, dragging the ball without actually scooping it up. I then had her use Confusion to hone the edge of her spoon and carve a wooden block with it. Unsurprisingly, her design of choice was a knight.

While she practiced her mental abilities, I read.

One of the requirements of being a gym-sponsored trainer was that I would keep up to date with the region's current events, from politics and the economy to subjects more closely related to myself. Notably, the region was seeing steadily rising rates of natural disasters. The vast majority of them were minor, such as a small flood here or a sinkhole there, but when taken as a whole, it painted a worrying pattern, especially since I knew what was coming.

Worse, Teams Magma and Aqua were each pointing fingers at the other, claiming their opposition was inciting wild pokémon into acting out against human habitations in order to advance their own twisted agendas.

I scoffed. Pot. Kettle.

'To think they started from the same origin,' I thought.

Hoenn's two teams could trace their origins to the Slateport Urban Development Project thirty-one years ago.

Originally, the importation and use of heavy slate in construction destroyed a lot of the marshlands that used to be Slateport. As a result, concerned citizens flocked from other cities and started the Hoenn Environmental Conservation Front, or HECF. Their peaceful protests meant nothing and the then minor town was expanded into a full city, which would eventually get renamed to what it was.

Three years after Slateport's completion, the HECF split into two. Really the split was a long time coming as people felt peaceful protests weren't good enough to stop humans from encroaching on the habitats of pokémon. Moderates were driven out from both sides until only the radical elements were left. Those split along the middle, forming Magma and Aqua to protect their respective biomes.

But even then, the two teams weren't always violent. Radical, yes. Violent, no. They were the sort to strap themselves to trees with chains, not the type to try to assassinate Devon Corp's president.

The violent kind of radicalism came about only after Archie Aogiri and Maxie Matsubusa took over the teams years after their founding. They transformed the teams into paramilitary organizations and cults in all but name, using their newfound power to carry out their personal vendettas, especially against one another. They were so bad that it was only a year later that Champion Drake labeled them terrorists.

Rangers and police typically rooted them out whenever they made too much trouble, but like any terrorist organization from my old world, truly ending them was a tall order thanks to their decentralized command structure. Each team had their leader, two executives, and a handful of lieutenants that oversaw several individual cells, a remarkably flat organizational structure that meant most of them knew very little about the group's overarching objectives.

And of course, Archie and Maxie disavowed any responsibility whenever a cell was captured, pointing fingers at each other or at "imposters" and "rogue elements."

They started with good intentions and were coopted by idiots who turned conservation into a weapon.

We kept up our training until lunch, after which we either saw the town or went right back to our training routine. Unsurprisingly, the pipsqueak knight named for the legendary king was rather insistent on training, more training, and even more training. I had to scoop her up and stuff her in my pocket to get her to rest sometimes.

Evening was the best time for relaxation, but she insisted on turning even that into a training exercise so I taught Artoria chess, poker, and blackjack. The goal was to teach her to read expressions and associate them with the emotional impulses she received passively. That, and hopefully instill in her the value of cunning and tactics.

When we weren't playing games, I also took to browsing the Mossdeep Gym Archives for any hints on training a ralts. The problem wasn't that I had little information to go on, quite the opposite. I had way too much information to sort through.

As expected of a family that had been around before the Leagues, more than five hundred years in fact, we had a whole host of records lost to others. And, it wasn't sorted in any way but chronologically.

The ralts line had always held a special place in our hearts and that meant every elder of every generation seemingly had some great insight to impart about the pokémon. Hell, there were even intergenerational arguments where one would correct what his great grandfather had written, only for his own son to insist that his father was a charlatan and the ancestors were right all along, all the while knowing that the people he was talking about were long dead and buried.

Back home, we had an old alakazam, my dead grandfather's starter, who was the guardian of the library. He resided in one of the oldest buildings on the island, one of the few that remained untouched by the modernity brought on by the Mossdeep Space Center. Out here, I didn't have him to help me sort through the bullshit.

Still, I did glean some useful information, such as how to best train a ralts do learn Double Team and some of the tricks she could use when combining it with Teleport.

X​

We were in our tenth day at the pokémon center when Artoria and I had our first taste of battle. We had just finished a lunch of fried magikarp and some sort of peppery arugula salad when we were called out in the canteen.

"Hey, you," someone behind us said. I turned around to see a boy around my age with black hair styled into a full hawk. He wore a black and yellow shirt depicting some kind of submarine paired with some sturdy shorts and hiking sneakers. Behind him were three more trainers our age, two boys and a girl. "You're that weirdo that's trying to teach a ralts Cut, right?"

I nodded genially. "That's me, what's up, dude?"

"Well I'm challenging you to a battle!"

"I reject."

"Yeah, right he- Wait, what?"

"I'm not obligated to accept a challenge just because you make one," I said patiently. I took a small bite of my magikarp filet. It tasted a bit like fried catfish, though less peppery and a bit meatier, like a cod. "Think about it. If that were true, then people with lots of badges preying on rookies would be far more common. The idea that a trainer needs to accept every battle is pure nonsense."

"W-Well, why not?"

"I don't really owe you an answer, but sure. I think Artoria here would gain more from training by herself than from sparring with another pokémon right now. What she needs most at the moment is technique mastery, not battle experience. Sorry."

"Hehehe, you got rejected, Enzo," one of the other boys, the tallest one with a laptop of some sort tucked under one arm, prodded. "Weren't you going to show us how strong Biter is?"

"Shut up," he whined. He turned and pointed at me. "I bet you're afraid Biter's going to use that ralts like a chew toy. Coward!"

"Petrified," I drawled, projecting as much of my boredom as I could. I didn't need Artoria thinking I didn't have any faith in her.

Looking at the three of them, they couldn't be more than a year older than I was. Or, they could still be in trainer school and just happen to have a starter early, some kids did that, went ahead and made their own arrangements if they thought they couldn't cut it to a gym sponsorship. Judging by their clean clothes and brash styles, they were likely either recent grads like me or skiving off trainer school.

Still, if they were a year older than me, that year would give them a big advantage. Pokémon didn't mature in a single year in the wild, but in the hands of a halfway decent trainer, they could evolve quite quickly. Something about the bonds between trainers and their pokémon promoted rapid growth by synchronizing our auras or somesuch. Hell, this field of study was what made the legendary Professor Oak such a goddamn legend in the first place.

I was about to reject again when Artoria picked up her spoon and front flipped over the table, landing between me and the trainers. She brandished her spoon and aimed it head first towards them.

'Apologize, knaves,' she shouted in every one of our heads. Her voice was as pure as always, like a clear bell ringing next to a mountain spring. 'Apologize for calling my lord a coward.'

I sighed. "You don't need to defend my honor, Artoria."

"D-Did she just talk?" the token girl of their group squeaked out.

"No, don't be ridiculous. What you're hearing is telepathy, a way for psychics to communicate with humans. Almost every psychic pokémon can learn how and it's a mark of a powerful psychic pokémon."

"Y-Yeah right, I bet any ralts can do it."

"Any ralts can," I said with a shrug. I hadn't lied to them once and wasn't about to start now, "but usually not one so young. They need more experience to build up to telepathy. Artoria is just really, really talented."

"Well it looks like she wants to fight."

'Apologize,' my little knight growled again.

Seeing a way to get what he wanted, the now named Enzo let out a smug smirk and crossed his arms over his chest. "No," he glared down at my ralts. "I don't think I will. What're you gonna do about it?"

'Then you will suffer my blade!'

"Yoink." I reached down and scooped her up before she could lunge towards them.

A ralts physically assaulting someone sounded hilarious on paper, but this ralts had been practicing nothing but Mana Burst and Mana Edge for almost three weeks now. With the kind of psychic power shown by a pokémon of Mossdeep Gym, and the daughter of mom's starter at that, she could do some serious damage. As it was, it was only her unwillingness to harm me that kept her from blasting free of my grip.

"Are you sure about this?" I asked all involved.

'My lord, he has besmirched your honor. This knave will pay!' Artoria shouted in my mind like someone from a period drama. I'd really have to have a chat with her about just where she was getting her material.

"Yeah, Biter's gonna eat her alive," Enzo crowed.

I sighed. I should have seen this coming. If anything, it was a small miracle that I was left alone for ten days. Why wouldn't Artoria's understanding of knightly honor keep her from fighting? I should have guessed that she would jump in headfirst at the slightest insult to my person. I was her liegelord after all.

I stuffed the rest of the magikarp into my mouth and washed it down with some sitrus berry juice before standing. "Fine, let's go. Artoria, we'll be talking about your lack of discipline."

Author's Note

It's true. Kendo has no blocks. Techniques are divided into shikake waza (lit: "challenge technique') and oji waza (lit: "countering technique"). In practice, kendo kata involves one person doing an attack and the receiver countering into one of the four point areas: men (head), kote (wrist), do (body), and tsuki (throat). Tsuki is usually frowned upon because it's unsafe for beginners to do.

In actual competitions though, almost every kendoka blocks at least some of the time. It's frowned upon as it's not kosher, but between blocking and losing, you block.

Knightly honor is funny until it drags you into unwanted battles, eh?

Nah, still funny.

 

[Fabled Webs]

Appetizer 1.4

Aaron Fulan
Slateport City, Hoenn Region

The boy named Enzo and I stood across from each other in one of the fields sectioned off behind the pokémon center. A surprising number of people had followed us out from the cafeteria, mostly so they could see just what the little ralts could do.

"Yo, you boys need a ref?" asked a pretty, older lady. Unlike Brenda, she was clearly a trainer, with pants tailored for hardiness than style. Her shirt and knees still had the dust of the road clearly marked on them.

"That would be appreciated, thank you," I nodded to her. "Enzo, right? Standard rules?"

"Yeah, Biter against your ralts!" The boy was all but jumping from foot to foot with excitement now.

"Okay, I'm Carrie, a fourth badge trainer," our ref told us. "To follow protocol: Introduce yourself, badge number, and your sponsor if you have one. Then, you'll let out Biter. Normally you'd release at the same time so no one has the advantage, but ralts is already on the field."

"I'm Aaron Fulan. No badges. Mossdeep Gym." That got several blinks in the audience. Then the whispers began.

"Mossdeep? Does… Does that mean he's a psychic too?"

"Fulan, dude! That's Leader Sharon's last name!"

"Holy shit, he's her son?"

"Wait, isn't Enzo in trouble now?"

I sighed and waved to Carrie to go ahead as the ambient aura coming from the crowd became even more excited by my admission. Sponsors really were a big deal, especially when said sponsor was a gym.

"Enzo Owley," my opponent said confidently. It was good that he wasn't cowed so easily. "No badges. No sponsor. And Biter's going to kick your butt!"

With that, he tossed his only pokéball onto the field, revealing a poochyena.

"Oh, a dark type." I looked it over. It was distinctly male judging by the tuft of fur along its spine. His fangs were large, almost too big for his face and jutted out like tusks. Red irises on yellow sclera gazed at my ralts hungrily. Suddenly, Enzo's eagerness to battle me made more sense. "Did you think having a dark type would let you win against me?"

"Regardless," Carrie interrupted, "this battle will be a one on one between Aaron's ralts and Enzo's poochyena. The match ends when one trainer withdraws their pokémon or when one pokémon is ruled unable to battle. My decisions are final. The prize money wagered will be the standard base value of 200 League Credits. Do both trainers understand the rules?"

"I do," I confirmed.

"Yeah," Enzo repeated.

"Then begin!"

Enzo wasted no time in calling an attack. "Biter! Bite!"

I rolled my eyes. "Nuki waza."

Although kendo was made for fighting other swordsmen, there was an important distinction between the kendo learned by me and the one I taught Artoria: She had no sparring partners. Beyond the graveler loaned to us from that friendly trainer on The Sour Qwilfish, she had never struck at another. But like most pokémon, she didn't hesitate. She'd grown up watching her father demolish challengers to the Mossdeep Gym after all. As adorable as she was, violence was in her blood.

Even better, she had no bad habits. She did not strike with the expectation of a kendoka's figure, center of gravity, or stance. She had zero expectations of her opponent and so could adjust to a four-legged foe just as easily as a humanoid one.

She swerved aside with a single, Mana Burst-aided step. The technique brought her to the left of the poochyena, who was already in the air and in no position to correct his course.

Her spoon found the pooch's snoot with a painful-sounding thwack.

"Pooch!" he barked as he was flung aside.

I tried to suppress a giggle at a dog shouting "pooch" every time it got hit but couldn't quite manage it.

Artoria took a ready stance in front of me, awaiting further orders.

"A poochyena named Biter rushes in to… Bite… How droll," I drawled, glancing dismissively at my opponent in that insufferable way my mother mastered.

"You! Biter, Tackle! Don't let up!"

I grinned as the poochyena and trainer barked as one. They were baying for blood now, oh so easy to rile. My opponent's aura was red and even though I couldn't read the pooch thanks to his dark type, I didn't need magic powers to see that he'd follow his trainer all the way.

"Dodge with Mana Burst. Play tag for a while and look for openings."

A ralts was slow, painfully so. In a dead sprint, a poochyena would win every time. But this wasn't a sprint nor was Artoria a normal example of her species. The constant suicides were paying off and though she was physically slower than her opponent, Mana Burst more than made up the difference.

She zipped around the field in straight lines, covering fifteen feet with a single step. She was literally dancing circles around her opponent, occasionally reaching out with a do strike as they passed each other.

"Kote," I called as the two were about to meet in the middle again.

'Yes, my lord.'

Her response was immediate. She switched to a side-grip and performed another nuki waza. This time, her spoon-sword lashed out low towards the poochyena's forelimbs as he charged. With a pained yelp, the poochyena stumbled and collapsed, dragging its chin against the ground.

"End it. Men."

"Sand Attack!"

It was my mistake. By the time I realized that the poochyena was faking, Artoria was too close and he had launched a wave of sand into her face.

'Aah!' her pained scream tore at our bond.

"Bite!"

The poochyena took a bite out of her arm, making her scream louder in my mind. He flung her aside and she rolled along the ground, spoon still gripped tightly in hand.

Shaking, she stood.

"Artoria, stand," I called firmly. I did my best to project reassurances through to her.

"What? I thought that'd end it," I heard Enzo complain.

"Why? Because she's a psychic? She's also fairy and she's not weak to dark types."

"Tch, whatever. Biter, Howl then Tackle for the finish!"

"Debana-men."

'Y-Yes, my lord!'

Artoria, barely able to see, stood at the ready. The poochyena was about to pounce when something changed between us. Perhaps it was the loss of sight on her end, but for the first time, our bond became as one. She started to draw from me, pulling her own mind into my body. It wasn't possession, not really, but for a moment, she used my eyes to view the world.

And that moment was enough.

"Mana Edge!"

She shot forward as Biter pounced. Even before his hind legs left the ground, her spoon, shining blue with the light of psychic power, was looming over his head.

She struck. On a normal person, a blow like that would have been a killing strike, the psychic energy sharpening the edges of the spoon like an ax. On a dark type, the bulk of that power fizzled away against Biter's inherent resistances. Still, the blow was augmented by a full-powered Mana Burst and his own leap.

Debana waza was like that. It was a technique which meant "to strike as your opponent attempts to." It was simple in theory; hit them before they hit you, but complex in practice. By timing the strike perfectly, Artoria was able to land a blow with both her own power and Biter's.

The residual psychic power of Mana Edge was enough to send the poochyena careening across the field to land pitifully at Enzo's feet. I could have been mistaken, but I was fairly sure I heard the crack of a fractured jaw.

"Enzo's poochyena is unable to battle," Carrie's voice pierced the silence. "Aaron's ralts is the winner!"

"What? No way, that's not fair," Enzo complained.

"Artoria, come here. Let's wash that sand out of your eyes," I said, ignoring him.

She dutifully trotted over and allowed me to lift up her green bangs so I could gently wipe her face with water from my water bottle.

'I was unable to deliver total victory,' I heard in my mind. 'I apologize, my lord.'

"What are you talking about? I think you won pretty decisively there."

'I got hurt because I was fooled by the dark one's deceit.'

"I was fooled too. I told you, honor is doing what you need to win. If you don't do everything in your power to win, I think that you're insulting your opponent. That poochyena made a gambit and it almost worked."

'Yes, my lord.'

"All we can do is learn from it."

Our moment was broken when Enzo stomped over. "You cheated," he accused.

"And why is that?"

"Your ralts is using a weapon!"

"Enough!" Carrie said. Suddenly, there was a rather impressive lairon between us. The steel and rock type growled warningly, sensing its trainer's ire. Enzo wisely backed off. "You challenged Aaron knowing that his ralts would be using that spoon. Everyone in the pokémon center knew about that spoon. You even had the advantage of releasing your pokémon second and had a dark type thinking you could win with one Bite. You don't get to claim anything is unfair."

"He has a weapon!"

"And? Certain held items are permissible under League regulations. Many psychic types carry mediums to channel their power. Hypno have their pendulums. Alakazam have their spoons. Hell, even fighting types sometimes have weapons. And if a conkeldurr, a pokémon with enough brute force to rival a machamp, is allowed to swing around two huge slabs of concrete at its opponents, a ralts can bring a spoon to a battle. Now pay the victor and shake on it like a decent human being before I get really mad."

Grumbling, Enzo slapped 200 LC into my hands before stomping away.

"Thanks for that," I said.

"Don't worry about it. Sore losers like that are everywhere. Most grow out of it, but some adult trainers aren't much better."

"Doesn't mean you didn't do a good thing."

"Heh, it was pretty fun to watch anyway. I didn't think a ralts could learn any moves like that."

"She can't, at least not normally. I've had to adjust different moves to fit her combat style."

"Shouldn't she learn better moves then?"

"Nah, this is what she wants so this is what we'll do."

"Alright then. I wish you luck, Aaron."

"Thanks, Carrie. And thanks again for the save."

I waved as I took Artoria to the counter for a checkup. While I waited, more trainers who watched the battle came by to ask me questions. Most were in the same vein as Carrie's and a fair number of them wanted to know what being a sponsored trainer was like. Annoying, but I'd have to learn to bear it.

X​

I decided that the day before we left Slateport behind would be the day for exploring. I wanted the two of us to have some downtime before we hit the road. And, truth be told, I wanted to check in on some of the things I remembered from my past life. I'd spent the better part of two weeks jotting down everything I knew about the anime, games, and manga and wanted to make sure that at least some of the knowledge I now possessed was applicable.

There was an easy way to check if my knowledge from Omega Ruby and Alpha Sapphire were good: mega stones. I knew the location of several and one of them was in this very city. True, it wasn't a gardevoirite, but I'd be an idiot to pass it up, especially since it was yet another psychic type.

So, I scooped up my ralts and picked up two bagels to go before heading out the door.

'My lord, are we not training today?'

"Nope, today is a day of rest. Or really, a day of exploration. There are some things I want to do before we head out tomorrow." I couldn't see her, seated on my shoulder as she was, but I could see the trail of her emotional aura. She was pouting. "You're pouting," I teased.

'I am not! A knight does not pout,' I heard her huff in my mind.

"You are~"

'Am not.'

"Are."

'Are not.'

"Are."

The two of us kept up this silly bickering. I took it for the progress that it was. Three weeks ago, Artoria had been so awed by a human who believed in her, believed that a gardevoir could be a knight, that she had been deferential to the point of awkwardness. The Artoria of then would never have dared to argue with me for fear that I'd grow fed up with her.

I pulled out my journal and began to read as I nibbled on my bagel. Tearing a piece out, I offered it to my partner as we walked.

'Where are we headed, my lord?'

"Slateport Open-Air Market," I said.

The Market as it was called for brevity, was Slateport's compromise between environmentalists and urbanites. Developers wanted to build a mall complex but the HECF made such a racket that the land was left mostly undeveloped. Instead, a large lot was made to the southwest of Slateport and declared an open-air market for residents. It was the largest of its kind in Hoenn and boasted a constantly rotating roster of booths from major companies and locals alike.

To this day, it was managed by the Slateport Economic Development Commission, a commission made up of a mix of conservationists and locals on a volunteer basis.

'Forgive me, my lord, but I thought we had the supplies we needed for our journey?'

"We do. We're looking for something called a mega stone," I whispered to her. I pictured the alakazite "Peek in my mind so you know what it looks like then help me find it."

'Yes, my lord.'

I stepped into the overgrown flea market and picked up a pamphlet from the SEDC representative. It listed all the booths for the week, their location, and specializations as well as how much it would cost to buy a booth of my own if I wanted it.

I made my way to the furthest southwestern corner. Along the way, I passed everything from farmers market analogs, berries and smoked meats and the like, to TMs, herbal remedies, and clothes.

"Keep an eye on the ground," I told her. "The stone can be partially buried."

'How do you know someone hasn't already picked it up?'

"I don't. I'm hoping that isn't the case."

To be fair, I was at least three years before canon. Tate and Liza wouldn't get their pokémon until they were thirteen and they were ten now.

Well, that wasn't strictly true. The twins were being groomed by mom, which meant they had a good idea of their partners already, even if the pokémon belonged to mom legally. Still, I had a few years to go. Seeing how it was just lying on the ground, I was hoping that was because no one noticed it being lodged there.

It could also be that the alakazite would be lost there by someone else some time between now and canon and that I was wasting my time.

"Only one way to know for sure," I mumbled to myself.

We were wandering around the southwestern corner of the Market when Artoria gave me a mental nudge.

'My lord, is that it?' she pointed. 'I sense some kind of psychic power coming from that gem there.'

She was pointing not at the ground but at a booth. I cursed under my breath because sure enough, there sat the alakazite amongst a small hoard of glass baubles and trinkets. The back of the booth was lined with shelves of dolls featuring cleffa, marill, and other cutesy pokémon. "Gavin's Great Goods," the sign said.

A man, presumably Gavin, stood behind the booth, really a wagon, with a newspaper and cup of joe in hand. He had a long set of mutton chops that made him look a bit like a bulldog.

No matter his appearance, he found it so I'd have to buy it from him.

'A souvenir shop…' I thought. 'He probably doesn't know what the alakazite is. If he knew, there's no way in hell he'd leave it lying around like this.'

"Artoria, let me do the talking, okay?"

'Yes, my lord,' she replied dutifully.

Mega evolutions were no secret. Steven was rather famous for his shiny mega metagross. Hell, all the Elite Four had one and so did the Lavaridge gym leader. In fact, the victor of the Ever Grande Conference or the Hoenn Grand Festival was given the option of receiving a key stone in lieu of prize money.

Most took the cash. After all, not only was the prize money substantial, key stones were useless unless the trainer had a powerful individual of a very select list of species, one with a close bond to the trainer, and of course, the mega stone itself. Without these two things, the key stone was just a collector's item.

Most people wouldn't recognize a mega stone on sight.

The key stone was ubiquitous. Every trainer who could mega evolve had one. Steven's mega stickpin was almost as recognizable as the Champion himself.

But the mega stone? That was unique to each pokémon and incredibly rare, so rare that each were rumored to be one of a kind.

No way would the common person recognize it. No way would some random peddler know what it was worth, certainly not an alakazite. Alakazam by themselves were exceedingly rare pokémon after all.

And that meant I had a chance.

I walked up to the cart with a grin. "Morning, sir. Are you Gavin?"

"Yea, who wants to know?"

"A customer. You know, my kid sister's birthday is coming up and she likes to collect marbles. I've never seen one so big before." I pointed at the alakazite. "You wouldn't mind selling that there to me, would you?"

He leaned forward and set his coffee to the side, alert at the potential for an easy mark. "Oh ho, you've got a good eye, kid. But I can't just give that thing away. No siree. That was something my pa made, you know? How 'bout four hundred?"

"What? For a marble? That's a ripoff!"

"Nah, for art. My pa was well-known as an artist, you know? Your sis'll be real happy to get this."

The bullshit this guy was slinging could bury a taurus. Still, the trick to haggling was to never directly call someone on their bullshit because then, that turned a conversation into a direct confrontation and it'd just make them more stubborn.

"Fine, it's art," I allowed. Four hundred was cheap compared to what it was truly worth anyway. "Still, it's made of glass. A bauble like that can't be worth more than two hundred."

"Are you kidding? Two hundred? Are you trying to insult my pa's memory? Look how perfectly made it is! Do you know how hard it is to hand make something like this?"

"Maybe, but it's still a marble in the end."

"Look, tell ya what? I can see that you want something nice for your kid sis, so I'll make you a deal. I'll give it to ya for three-fifty. Pa was a pretty famous artist from Johto. Trust me, it's a great deal."

"Bah, he probably wasn't that big if no one's heard of him. If he was, this thing would be in the Lilycove Museum of the Arts, not here in Slateport. Two-seventy-five."

He reeled back as though slapped. "Hmph, those snobs? They wouldn't know art if it crawled up their asses! Pops wanted to give it to someone who'll appreciate it, not some stuffy museum where it'll just gather dust. You look like a good kid so how 'bout three-twenty-five? It's the best I can do."

I could see the mounting confusion emanating from my ralts. Honestly, this took me back to my time in Japan during the Kendo World Championships. I visited a fish market there and got sucked into haggling with a fisherman. By the time I left, I paid three thousand yen for a bundle of saury and thought it was a good deal until my Japanese friend laughed her ass off at me when I got back to the hotel.

"You know what? Fine. Here's 325 LC. I'm sure my sister will appreciate it. Thanks, mister."

"Yeah, you run along, kid." He waved me away, already counting his money.

"Fucking scammer," I muttered under my breath. Still, I wasn't too mad. He just parted with a mega stone for what amounted to about thirty-two dollars. A lot for a marble. Damn near nothing for a mega stone.

We were a ways off when Artoria spoke up. 'My lord, I am puzzled.'

"How so?"

'You were both lying. You both knew the other was lying.'

"Well, I don't know what he knew, but yeah, I knew he was lying."

'Why? Father told me that lying was unknightly.'

"It is usually. So you want to know why we were both lying, knew the other was lying, and didn't have any malice?"

'Yes.'

"Remember our game of poker? Haggling is like that."

'I don't understand.'

"Well, you see, humans need and want a lot of things in life, from food to things that amuse us. To make exchanges simpler, we use a universal system of exchange called money. Or a league credit. But, a league credit is only worth whatever both parties agree on," I explained. "For example, a pecha berry would be worth about 10 LC in the market. There isn't any rule that says it's worth that much, but that is what most people are willing to buy one for. I could say that my pecha berry is worth 1000 LC, but no one would buy it. Do you understand?"

'So lying to each other was… a way to come to an agreement on what that stone was worth?'

"Kind of. It was also about having fun in a way, trying to get the other person to settle for more, or in my case, less. It's a game, like what we played some nights."

'I… see…'

I laughed. "No, you don't. But look around." Sure enough, there were more people out in the Market now. We passed by a woman waving a bundle of radishes and shouting at the booth attendant, another equally pumped up woman. "See those two? They're arguing about radishes like it's a matter of life or death when they could easily afford whatever small change in price they're fighting over. It's not really about the money as it is a way to socialize."

'Humans are strange…'

"Heh, yeah. Haggling can get serious, but most of the time in a place like this, it's just a type of verbal sparring."

Author's Note

I didn't really want to call everything pokédollars, so I decided to just abbreviate currency to "LC" for "League Credit."

First battle, and a rather underwhelming one at that.

As far as I'm concerned, there are very few true immunities in the pokémon world. A powerful enough bolt of lightning will lay out a ground type by overwhelming their rate of grounding. A powerful dragon can overwhelm a lesser fairy. It makes zero sense that a diglett can tank Zekrom's Bolt Strike. Or that a newborn spritzee can survive a Draco Meteor from Dialga. Likewise, a dark type naturally diffuses psychic energy, but a powerful enough strike can get through, which is a bit of what we saw with Biter.

As for how much Aaron knows about the games, he maybe knows where major items are like mega stones or a handful of evolution stones. He doesn't know where every rare candy or heart scale can be found, nor that some NPC or another will give him X item if you talk to them. Even for things like mega stones, the only one he remembers for a fact, for plot reasons, is the gardevoirite in Verdanturf Town.

He'll be rolling a lot of d20s to see what he remembers and who he encounters. For Slateport:

Initial roll to recollect: 18

Physically finding the alakazite/Negotiations: 15

Contest hall encounter roll: 16

He rolled really well and it's kind of weird because I'm never this lucky in the D&D campaign I'm part of. So much so that my character, a dragonborn warlock, has a reputation for being the party idiot.

 

[Fabled Webs]

Appetizer 1.5

Aaron Fulan
Slateport City, Hoenn Region

Having the alakazite in my possession was a weight off my mind. I skipped, skipped, across the Market with a shit-eating grin that wouldn't be amiss on a sneasel in a chicken coop. It wasn't just about the mega stone but what it represented: My knowledge was real and applicable in this world.

Sure, there were some differences, such as how the stone wasn't half-buried in the ground, but that could be chalked up to how early I was in canon.

Even better, Artoria could sense the power coming from a mega stone. Or, at least, from the alakazite. It could be that the power was subtle enough that she couldn't find it unless she was already looking. Or it could be that the psychic type energy let off by the alakazite was perceivable only to other psychics. The latter would make some sense and play a part in explaining why these things were so hard to find. The right trainer with the right pokémon had to be in the right place, preferably with the right knowledge.

Unlikely.

The alakazite also presented a question for me: Where do I go now?

I initially planned to head up to Mauville. There, I'd challenge Wattson, followed by Moore. Then I'd circle back to Rustboro for Roxanne, who'd only recently become a gym leader, and to Petalburg for normie-Norman. I'd have to double back yet again to catch a ferry from Rustboro to Dewford to pick a fight with Brawly. By then, I'd have a powerful enough team that I should be able to fly or teleport wherever I needed to go so I could take on Fortree, Mossdeep, and Sootopolis in any order I preferred.

It wasn't perfect, but I did have a plan.

And yet, with the alakazite, the allure of Dewford beckoned.

More specifically, Granite Cave. It was one of the few places in the Hoenn Region that a trainer could find an abra. The urge to acquire an abra as soon as possible was strong. The more time I had with one, the better our bond would be. When I finally acquired a key stone, mega evolution would be a much smoother process.

I walked aimlessly through the Market, pondering my options. Finally, I decided to leave it to Artoria.

"Artoria?"

'Yes, my lord?'

"Dewford or Mauville?"

'Pardon me?'

"Should we take another passenger ship to Dewford tomorrow or should we keep to our plan for Mauville?"

'I… I do not know. What are the benefits of changing our course?'

"An abra. The mega stone we acquired is for an alakazam and acquiring an abra would let me bond with one for longer, hopefully making mega evolution a smoother process. Also, Dewford's a fighting type gym, which would give you a significant advantage."

'I…' She quieted at that.

"Artoria?"

'M-May I be selfish, my lord?'

"Of course, what's wrong?" Her aura flickered yellow, then white, then purple until it settled on a greenish, psychedelic haze. She was literally green with envy. I swept her off my shoulder and held her in my hands. "Artoria. I'm not replacing you."

'I… I just… I want to be the only psychic for a while. E-Even if it's just a sleepy abra.'

"Yeah, that's fine. There's your own mega stone in Verdanturf anyway."

'Truly?'

"Yeah. Or at least, I'm really hoping so. We'll head to Mauville for our first badge then to Verdanturf. Sound good?"

'Yes, my lord,' she sniffed. 'That sounds perfect.'

Was I being manipulated by a ralts? Perhaps, but I couldn't find it in me to care. A gardevoirite was just as valid as an abra after all. And truth be told, as a sponsored trainer of Mossdeep Gym, it wouldn't be too difficult to contact a breeder for an abra of my own when I had more cash.

Course decided, we browsed some more until we stumbled upon a TM store. A lanky, dark-skinned woman grinned up at me from a blanket on the floor.

"Well, dearie? See something you like?"

I glanced at the signs. She had a fair selection: Double Team, Protect, and Hidden Power. Artoria already knew Double Team, but Protect would go a long way to giving her some survivability. In general, the ralts line learned a staggering number of supporting moves, but I considered Protect chief among them all.

"Yes, ma'am," I said, far more politely than when I'd haggled with Gavin. "How much is the Protect TM?"

"Oh, that thing? Just 5,000 LC."

I balked. It was a fair price, truth be told. A TM with obvious tactical uses like that could go for even more, but five grand was already my entire monthly stipend and more than I had on me. I had hoped that this being the Market, it'd be a bit cheaper.

This was a TM, not some glass bauble or a bundle of produce. I didn't even try to argue.

"I'm sorry, ma'am. I don't have that kind of money right now," I said with a bow. "Perhaps next time."

"Hehe, such a polite young man. Alright dear. You come back."

I shrugged. Artoria had plenty on her plate as it was anyway.

TMs were a bit like 3D printers back in my world. Professionals could make works of art. Major companies like Silph Co. made them in bulk from the memories of powerful pokémon, paying their memory donors in accordance with the move's rarity, power, and sale value. Some gyms or labs were known for them, though not all and they usually made only a few signature moves.

Others, usually retired trainers with the capital to burn, bought TM Scanners that could do the same on a smaller scale. It was a good source of income, though one that required a fairly expensive startup cost. That lady running the TM stand was probably one such retiree.

After a morning of walking around the Market, Artoria and I grabbed an early lunch at a beachside café. We sat outside enjoying the sun. Figuring that I may as well enjoy more seafood while I could get it fresh, I ordered myself a po boy made of clauncher claws. Ethically harvested, or so the menu claimed. Artoria enjoyed a tomato and shrimp bisque in a bowl as large as her head paired with a piece of garlic bread she could sleep on.

We'd be taking some of that home, but I didn't care. I snapped a few pictures of my partner struggling not to fall into her soup to send to Tate and Liza.

Our view looked out into the pier, where we could spy dozens of beachgoers. More than a few were fishermen, though I knew that most had no intention of actually eating anything they caught. If they cared, they wouldn't be fishing so close to shore.

Among them were people who were battling in the sand. That crowd was made up of an eclectic group of people. Some were like me, fresh out of trainer school, and could be identified by the generic pokémon they possessed, each native to the wilds surrounding Slateport and no doubt handed out by the contest hall or one of the several minor gyms in the area. Those were mostly marill and zigzagoon, though I spied the odd skitty or three.

There were also a fair mix of more experienced trainers. Most of these were sailors who were on shore leave, shooting the breeze and letting their pokémon stretch their legs. Even in this life, sailors had the reputation of being a rough and tumble sort, eager to start throwing hands and just as quick to make up over a pint.

We were mostly done when one of the battles caught my attention. A machop grabbed a zigzagoon by the tail and spun it around before hurling it out of the arena, a rough circle drawn into the ground.

"Heh, ya see that? Me 'n' machop ain't gonna lose to some normal type," said the sailor to the dismayed boy.

"Aww man, I thought Ziggy had you."

"Nah, ya gotta work on that speed more. Take Down's a good move, but it ain't worth anything if you're predictable."

I nodded. That sailor looked like he had his shit together. More importantly, he was willing to coach some youngster while on his shore leave. The machop looked well-trained. It didn't show off any fancy moves, but its foundations were excellent.

Perfect.

I nudged my partner. "Think you're up for a battle?"

'My lord?'

"That machop over there. He's a pure hand to hand fighter and doesn't have any ranged attacks from what I can tell. Even better, he's also well-trained and his trainer doesn't mind helping out the younger kids there. I think it'd be a good experience for you to fight someone physically stronger than you."

That last comment lit a fire in her. I literally saw the white fire of resolve kindle around her, replacing her contemplation. Sometimes, pokémon were such predictable creatures.

'I will bring you victory,' she exclaimed, her excited cries of "Ralts! Ralts! Raaalts!" drawing more than a little attention.

Laughing, I paid the bill and hurried out onto the sand.

"Hey, mister," I called to the man with a machop. "Does that machop have the gas for one more battle?"

The machop and his trainer turned towards me as one. They were like mirrors of each other, same water bottle and towel slung over their necks. I could tell the exact moment they finished looking us over because of the sharklike grins that spread across their faces.

"Hoh? Another one, eh? And smart, too. Ya think bringin' a psychic-fairy against a fighter like my boy machop can tip the odds for ya? That's good. Ya should always think about types when ya can."

"Actually, sir, I was hoping you could give my Artoria here a lesson in close combat."

He blinked. "Eh?"

"You see, Artoria here wants to be a swordmaster one day and she fights without ranged attacks at all. No Confusion, Psybeam, or anything."

"Haha, that's an interesting one for sure. Alright, kid. Get in the ring," he gestured. "He'll take you on.

I ignored the customary whispers and pointed fingers and took my place across from him.

"Artoria."

'Yes, my lord,' she said firmly. She stepped off my shoulder and fell in a graceful front flip before rolling perfectly into a ready stance, sword-spoon at the ready. She then announced to all and sundry, 'Behold the glory of my sword!'

I sighed, hand covering my face. My little ralts was chuuni enough for a dozen Japanese middle schools. "You didn't need to broadcast that."

"Hahaha, it's good to be fired up, right, machop?"

"Ma! Machop!" the reptilian muscle-kid shouted.

The two began in close quarters. By some unspoken agreement, they began to circle each other with neither 'mon making more than three feet of distance away from the other. It almost looked comical, especially because the machop, in a typical karate stance, was almost twice as tall as my ralts.

"Hiki-kote," I called.

She sent me a subtle mental nudge to affirm that she heard me and continued to wait. When the two had circled the ring fully, the machop finally decided to begin.

He stepped forward aggressively with a punch. On someone his height, it would have been aimed at the solar plexus. Against Artoria, it was aimed squarely at her head.

She was expecting it. She took a large step back, feet slightly unsteady against the sand, and struck his wrist with the edge of her spoon.

"Machop!" he cried. He fought through the pain and instantly flowed into a vicious combination.

It was only through pure repetition that she was able to dodge, countering with a nuki-men, a side-stepping strike to the forehead.

"Kendo? Interesting. I didn't expect a ralts to know that."

"Thanks. I felt that it suited her better than western sword arts."

"You sure? Because that spoon looks more like a large ax in her hands."

"Heh, yeah. She'll grow into it."

We watched them dance back and forth, his machop clearly probing her even as she dodged and stumbled in the sand. After that nuki-men, he'd yet to take another blow, her skills alone too slow to keep up with the instinctive martial artist.

It was said that karate in this world was developed when humans first began to cooperate with machop in Kanto, hence the name, "empty hand." A literally empty hand outstretched in friendship across species… if you were feeling poetic.

Still, I could see why some thought so. I was no expert, but his movements were firm and crisp, fluid in a way that most humans took years to get right.

Even as they battled, I could hear the machop grunting something or other at Artoria. Judging by the way she shuffled every now and then to correct her stance, he was giving her advice on where to keep her elbows.

Finally, the sailor grew impatient. "Enough, let's kick it up a notch. Low Kick!"

The machop responded by crouching low. His tail helped to balance his weight as his foot shot out towards Artoria. Artoria went flying, though not of her own initiative.

"Ralts!" she cried as she rolled and spat out a mouthful of dirt.

She was finding out the hard way that a sword wasn't always the best weapon to guard against attacks aimed at the legs. Standing on shaky legs, she put on a massive burst of speed, launching herself like a rocket using Mana Burst. A cloud of sand followed in her wake.

"She's fast. Tank and Revenge!" my opponent barked.

"Mana Edge!"

Her spoon began to glow with the eerie violet light of psychic energy. Seeing this, the machop responded in kind. His muscled enlarged and steam began to visibly waft from his hardened skin.

'Bulk Up. He must have visited Dewford at some point,' I thought. That meant the sailor had at least one badge and our chances of victory plummeted. Still, I didn't voice my thoughts and watched the collision.

The burst of psychic power cut deep, destabilizing as it came into contact with the machop's body.

"Chop!" he cried out in pain. Though type advantages weren't the be all end all of pokémon like they were in the games, there was something mystical about psychic energy that fighters just couldn't cope with. No amount of hardened muscles seemed to be enough to fully negate a psychic type attack and a machop just didn't have the experience or power needed to withstand one head on.

He proved the worth of his training. Even as he was flung back with a deep gash across one forearm, his body glowed with crimson light before a vicious kick launched my ralts away like a ragdoll.

"Ralts!"

The sailor doffed his cap and by mutual agreement, we gave our pokémon a moment to catch their bearings.

"A psychic type sword art? Now I've seen everything. It's got the makings of a powerful Psycho Cut one day."

"Heh, yeah. Hope so. I didn't think your machop would be able to retaliate like that. Dewford?"

"Yup. Got the badge with my poliwrath a few months ago when we were docked there. Got bored of the town and figured some training would do us good. Had him teach my boy here Bulk Up."

I nodded. "Figures. He's really strong."

"Thanks, that little missy packs a wallop too."

Slowly, the machop staggered to his feet, clearly feeling a little dizzy from the onslaught of energies that assaulted both his body and mind. Across from him, Artoria rose to one knee with her spoon as a crutch.

"Artoria, you good or should we stop? I think you've learned plenty from him."

'I wish to continue, my lord,' I heard her voice projected all around. She had a wicked grin on her face. This was the first opponent who had pushed her this far. Biter the poochyena was nothing in comparison.

"Hah! The little missy's got fire. How 'bout you, machop? You wanna keep going or punch the clock?"

"Ma! Machop!"

"Heh. That's it. Alright then. Round two?"

"Three, I think, your machop's already sent Artoria into the dirt before. One loss. One draw."

"Then let's make this the last! Machop, Karate Chop!"

The two fell into another rhythm of punches and slashes, each being parried or sidestepped with expert precision. I tried to pay attention to Artoria's stance so I could correct her slip ups later, but she was already moving beyond the ability of most humans. And yet, she was slowly being pushed back.

'I guess she's reached the point where kendo just isn't good enough by itself.'

She dodged out of the way of a Focus Energy enhanced Karate Chop with a hasty Mana Burst, blowing sand behind her. That gave me an idea.

"Mana Burst. Run rings!"

I felt our minds tick in unison as our senses of self began to blur. She responded exactly as I envisioned and began to run along the outside of the ring, kicking up beach sand in a large cloud. It wasn't quite Sandstorm, there was no cutting wind to grind against our foes, but at this level of battle, a smokescreen was plenty effective.

"Machop?" Her opponent paused, unsure of how to proceed.

"Double Team then Mana Edge!"

"Heh, well done," the sailor smiled, already seeing how this would end.

Artoria's silhouette multiplied, splitting into four before they emerged as one. She and her clones closed in like a pack of wolves. And with the sand obscuring her shadow, it became almost impossible for machop to discern the real one.

Still, he made a valiant effort of it. Instead of waiting for the four to close, he rushed forward, clotheslining two who were coming from the front. That was the right call, reducing as many possibilities as he could before he was forced to guess.

With whipcord muscles, he turned on a dime and chose the one coming from his right. He punched, and missed.

I could see the exact moment that he realized what was coming. There was resignation in his aura, but excitement too, applause for a worthy opponent.

'Hyaaahhhh!' her mental voice rang throughout the crowd as she put forth one more Mana Burst, landing a perfect strike to the back of his head. She skidded to a stop, landing on her knees with her sword stuck in the sand like an oar at sea. Behind her, the machop fell unconscious.

Panting, she rose and looked me in the eyes. 'I have emerged victorious, my lord.'

I knelt in front of her and took her tiny hands in mine. "It was a splendid victory."

At the end of the day, a psychic won against a fighter. That wasn't extraordinary. It was barely a feat worth mentioning, despite machop's greater experience. And yet, that dazzling smile and the aura of sheer joy and pride blazing around her made it all worthwhile.

I waved the 200 LC away. "Don't bother, sir. Your machop held back a fair bit."

"Ehh, not as much as you'd think. He's used to sparring with my poliwrath for sure, but it's the first time he's faced a psychic, even a strange one like your ralts. Take it. She earned it, didn't she? You go and buy her something nice, you hear?"

"Well, when you put it that way…"

I did my best to ignore the questions and took Artoria to the pokémon center. That she didn't even have the energy to protest being carried in my arms spoke volumes.

Author's Note

Sailor-y accents are hard…

"Hiki" means to go backwards and is one of the attacking forms. The kendoka takes a step back and in the same motion strikes the opponent.

 

[Fabled Webs]

Appetizer 1.6

Aaron Fulan
Slateport City, Hoenn Region

I had Artoria checked out at the pokémon center. Once again, I was amazed by the natural durability of pokémon. Even after going three rounds with a machop, the worst of her injuries were bruises that swiftly faded under the ministrations of the local chansey.

An hour. Sure, machop was pulling his punches for the sake of coaching her, but the kind of exercise that would have laid me out for at least a day or two even in my prime was healed in an hour.

Truly, both pokémon and the medicines of this world astounded me.

That was great news for me though. It allowed me to do one last thing before sundown: visit the contest hall. I left the pokémon center with my gallant knight perched on my shoulder, spoon-sword slung over her back and attached using minor telekinesis. It reminded me that I should go pick up a bokken for my own use at some point. I couldn't keep swinging around a repurposed broomstick if I wanted to whip this body into shape after all.

I didn't know if Slateport was trying to make up for its lack of a major gym by having the biggest contest hall in the region, but nonetheless, the hall was something to look at.

It was positively massive, so massive in fact that it was more like a compound surrounding a great stage or stadium type of setup. Made sense for something that hosted the grand festival every year. It loomed in the distance. Distance, because I never actually stepped foot into the main competition area myself. Instead, the hall had several auxiliary buildings meant to handle lesser contests, administrative tasks, and other such duties. The two of us admired the stage form the fence on the outside.

Just as the gym challenge wasn't quite the same as in the games or anime, being the "eighth gym" didn't necessarily mean it had to be the last to be challenged, contests worked a bit differently in this world as well.

Normal-rank contests with normal ribbons were held once a month or so in every major city, though with staggered dates to allow for coordinators to travel and enter several a month should they so choose. Three normal ribbons got you into the super-rank, though only one super, hyper, and master-rank ribbons were required from then on to enter the next level of contests.

Those with at least one master ribbon could compete in the grand festival at the end of the year, with each master ribbon being viable entrance qualification for two years. Like badge-collecting, it was a race against time to qualify for enough contests and work up to the final stage.

And, in much the same way as the champion, the grand coordinator of any region was a figure of envy and admiration. A grand coordinator didn't have quite the same political pull, but they often sported mega stones of their own.

'It's big, my lord.'

"Yeah, that's where the grand festival is held."

'I thought the conference was held in Ever Grande City?'

"It is," I nodded, correcting the slight mistranslation in telepathy. "A grand festival is different from the general League conference. A conference is about battles, seeing who's the strongest. A pokémon contest is a little different."

'How so, my lord?'

"Well, to start, beating the opponent isn't really the goal. The goal is to be the most impressive, to wow the judges. There are a lot of ways you can do that so it's a little hard to describe, but control over a move is usually more important than just knowing powerful moves. When we get back, we'll watch a few contest battles so you can see how they're different from the gym battles you're used to seeing."

'Very well, my lord. And this is where the best contest battles take place?'

"That's right. We're going to pick up a season pass so we can watch any of them in person. Hopefully, we'll be around to watch the grand festival at the end of the year."

"No interest in competing, young man?"

I turned towards the voice. I was so caught up in admiring the main stage and talking to Artoria that I didn't even notice that we had company. It wasn't just anyone.

The man had seafoam-green hair and eyes and wore an ensemble of mostly whites, blues, and greens. He was missing the weird quasi-topless outfit he wore for contests, but even without, his handsome mug was unmistakable. I'd known more than one girl back in trainer school who swore they'd marry him.

Next to him was a young girl about my age with the same green hair and large, expressive eyes. She wore a big, floofy hat and a white sundress. Judging by her associate, there was no doubt as to her name either.

"Wallace Mikuri," I gasped. I couldn't help it. This was the Wallace Mikuri, six-time winner of the Hoenn Grand Festival and gym leader of Sootopolis City. He was the man who broke the mold, shattering every expectation of a coordinator being unsuited for "real" battles. When people ranked gym leaders, he was always neck and neck with mom and Leader Moore for that coveted "eighth gym" title, the dark horse who hadn't started out with any interest in battling yet somehow came to stand atop the trainer scene nonetheless.

He smiled genially. "I see my fame precedes me. I'm afraid I don't know you though, Mr…?"

"Fulan. Aaron Fulan, sir."

A spark of recognition lit up his face. "My, this is a fortuitous moment then. It has been a while since I last spoke with Sharon. How is she?"

"She was well when we last spoke. Mother is… as stern as always."

"Haha, you're certainly not the first to say so. So, do you have no interest in contests?"

I shrugged and gestured to my partner. "That depends on Artoria. Truth is, I think she can do well in them, control is a big focus of her psychic training and I think her technique is excellent, but I also don't think she would enjoy performing for the approval of judges."

"Uncle Wall? Who's this?"

"Oh, where are my manners. This is my niece, Lisia," he said as he nudged the girl forward. "She wants to compete in the upcoming grand festival like me."

"Yeah! I'm going to win with Ali here," Lisia said energetically. If she was starting out, that meant she was thirteen like me. Even now, some of that pop idol energy from canon was already shining through. On her head, the floofy cloud I thought was a hat spread his wings proudly.

"Swa, swablu!" he cried.

"Heh, she's got the makings of a star," the proud uncle said. "Lisia, this is Aaron, the son of Sharon Fulan, the Mossdeep gym leader."

"Ooh, cool, are you going for the Ever Grande Conference?"

I shrugged. "Probably?"

"That wasn't very enthusiastic."

"That's because I'm not an enthusiastic person," I smiled. "To be honest, badges don't really mean much to me. I don't want to dethrone Champion Steven or anything. It's more about becoming a powerful psychic and letting my pokémon reach their full potential. Badges are a means to an end, proof that we're moving forward, but I don't want to confuse them for the real prize."

"Yeah, I can see that. I'm not too hot in battles so I decided to follow Uncle Wall and become the Grand Coordinator. I hope to see you in a contest someday."

"Oh? Are we rivals?"

She frowned, her nose scrunching up cutely. "I don't think contests should be about rivalries. I know only one can win and all, but it should be about making people smile, you know? I just want to show everyone that being a trainer isn't all about being the strongest."

"That's as good a goal as any. You must have learned a lot from your uncle."

"Mhmm! Uncle Wall's been showing me and Ali how to do all sorts of tricks. Not everything he says applies because Ali's not a water type, but he's been super helpful."

I nodded along as she told me about some of Wallace's training regimens. Whitney Mikuri, now Lutia, married and moved out of Sootopolis alongside her husband so Lisia didn't live on the island city despite being able to trace her roots to its founders. Because her "Uncle Wall" was so busy running a gym and being the best coordinator in Hoenn, he didn't get much time to visit for face-to-face instruction. Nor was Ali compatible with many of the strategies Wallace favored. That left him with little choice but to leave behind videos of his own team training and some notes on how a new pokémon could improve.

Not that that was a small thing. Training regimens could be closely guarded secrets at higher levels and plenty of trainers would kill to know how Wallace trained that elegant monster of a milotic of his.

I did notice that she was missing her "mega tiara," the hair clip she wore that housed her key stone in canon. Made sense: she hadn't won it yet from the grand festival. I didn't know if she would be one of those miracle children who win on their first attempt, but I knew she would one day take the world by storm, probably within the next three years since Tate and Liza were gym leaders when she was the grand coordinator.

"Say, Aaron?" Lisia asked as we headed inside, her to register for contests and me to buy a spectator pass.

"Hmm?"

"Are you a psychic? Like Leader Sharon."

"I am, but not a very powerful one. I can see emotional auras around people so I know how they feel. Sometimes it means I can make a good guess about what they're thinking, but that's just me thinking, not an actual power. I'm damn good at poker though."

"Woah, that's awesome! I bet you'd be amazing in contests! You can always tell what the judges or the crowd likes most!"

"True, but I'm hoping to become a stronger psychic. You know, telepathy. Telekinesis. Teleportation. That sort of thing."

"Cool, is there like a psychic school or something? I heard Leader Sharon is super-powerful."

"She is," I nodded and swallowed the tang of bitterness on my tongue. It was hard to be resentful with so much bright-eyed happiness radiating from her. Instead, I grinned and pulled out my PokéNav, showing her a picture of the twins. "So are my little siblings. Tate and Liza are the strongest psychics born in our family in like twelve generations or something. Or at least, the ones with the most potential for their age."

"Ooh, they're so cute! They kind of look alike though. Which one is Tate and which one is Liza?"

"Heh, they'd get really mad if they heard you say that. But between you and me? They do look alike," I snickered. "The one with longer sideburns is Liza."

"Lucky. I'm an only child," she pouted adorably. "I want a little brother."

"If you win the grand festival, you can have Tate."

"Hah! Yes! I'm definitely going to win now, right, Ali?"

"Swablu!" the fluffball crooned alongside his trainer.

"She's going to hold you to that," Wallace drawled. "Whitney tells me she spoils the neighborhood kids as it is."

"I'd be happy to introduce her to my siblings when she wins."

"When? Not if? You have a lot of confidence in a girl you just met. I'll be competing too, you know."

"She'll win," I said with all the certainty of an oracle. "She'll win and she'll trounce you so badly that you'll have no choice but to focus more on your gym."

That took the gym leader back. "Hmm… You didn't say you had the Sight. Or is this one of Sharon's predictions? No, she wouldn't bother… But she might, just to mess with me… She's got a mischievous side under all that stiffness."

"Hey! I didn't need to hear that," Lisia complained. "I want to win because Ali and I worked hard, not because there's a prophecy or something!"

"That's not how the Sight works," I said with a chuckle. "Just because something is foretold to happen doesn't mean it will. In fact, you're almost better off just flipping a coin a lot of the time. Besides, I told you, I don't have any power except seeing emotions."

"Then… Why'd you say all that?"

"Why else? Because I believe you'll make it."

"Th-That's… That makes no sense."

I shrugged and gave her an enigmatic smile. "Maybe not, but I like to think I have an eye for talent."

"Thank you, I won't let you down," she said, a little pink coloring her cheeks.

"Hah, well she will have to beat me and Macherie," said a blonde boy. Behind him, a machop flexed her impressive muscles.

"I'm sorry, you are?"

He looked familiar. He was a blonde boy our age with long-ish hair swept to the right. He was traditionally handsome in that pretty boy way and wore a fitted blue suit over a thin turtleneck. Everything about him screamed trust fund baby, but then again, I was one too.

The machop, "Macherie" if I had to hazard a guess, was a younger member of her species. She was a little smaller than that sailor's machop I saw the other day and lacked his expert physique. She was toned, as all machop were, but not in a way that spoke of rigorous training and experience. And all of that was undercut by the massive pink bow on her head. It was distracting and clashed terribly with the musclebound pokémon, though I supposed it was cute… maybe…?

'There's no accounting for taste…'

Blondie swung his head to the side, flipping his bangs like he was auditioning for a Pantene commercial. "I'm Chaz, you are?"

"Umm… I'm Lisia, nice to meet you!" Lisia said, her usual pep overtaking her surprise by the end.

"Aaron," I gave him a nod, still trying to remember where I recognized him from. "And if you mean the next normal-rank contest, I won't be here. I'm headed to Mauville for my first badge."

"Hmph, I see, just another boor obsessed with power. Well, I suppose you're here so I should give you a little credit. Be sure to watch my rise through the contest circuit. Perhaps you'll learn a thing or two about elegance."

'Why you cur-' I snatched Artoria off my shoulder before she could club the idiot half to death with a spoon defending my honor. As tempting as that was, I didn't want the hassle.

"Nope. You can't beat up every idiot with a big mouth, Artoria."

"A brutish pokémon. And here I thought the ralts line were known for their elegance."

"There is nothing more elegant than following your oaths and fighting to defend another. But I don't suppose you'd know anything about that." I gently bopped Artoria's head with a finger. "And I keep telling you to keep that temper in check."

'My apologies, my lord.'

"Now, now, that's enough of that. It's good to be fired up but not if you start picking fights outside the stage," Wallace cut in.

"Yeah, contests should be about making people smile, not petty rivalries," Lisia said with a frown.

"I will take your advice into consideration, grand coordinator," Chaz said, bowing to Wallace. Turning to Lisia, he said, "I hope to see you in a week, my rival."

"I just sai-"

He strutted off before she could finish. It was then I finally remembered who this fop was.

He was the boy who gave the player character a lucarionite when Lisia is beaten for the first time in a master rank contest in the ORAS games. He had this weird one-sided rivalry-crush thing going on with Lisia, though whether she even knew about it was anyone's guess.

'Guess he's young enough that he has no idea how to talk to girls. Was that his awkward attempt at flirting?' I wondered.

And then I remembered the other big thing about him: He gave the player a lucarionite when the player finally defeated Lisia in a contest.

A lucarionite… That was extremely valuable for more than just the mega evolution itself, and not just because lucario were such rare pokémon. Because Kalos insisted that a lucario was the first to mega evolve, it held enormous historical significance in the region, with only the guardian family of the Tower of Mastery in Shalour possessing one. I couldn't imagine how one ended up in Chaz's hands.

I was tempted, so very tempted to participate in contests with the hope of acquiring one. If Chaz wanted a rival, surely I could give it to him? And then I glanced at my partner and quelled my greed. If it happened, it happened, but chasing shiny items like a magpie wasn't worth it, especially for a pokémon I didn't even have in the first place.

I was broken from my musings by the receptionist who took 750 LC and gave me a season pass, leaving me with 4,325 LC. All told, the equivalent of $75 for a season pass was excellent, a heavily discounted rate thanks to my sponsor.

Now that I received my pass, I left the uncle and niece pair to talk about Lisia's journey. Wallace would be teleporting to each city's master-rank contest whenever he had time with the help of his slowking. From what it sounded like, Lisia was on a trip of her own, starting with Slateport and headed by ship to Lilycove.

X​

Aaron Fulan
Route 110, Hoenn Region

The next morning saw Artoria and I at the northernmost end of Slateport, ready to head out into Route 110.

Route 110 was pretty to look at, though there wasn't too much special about it. Its standout feature was of course the Seaside Cycling Road, a collaborative project between Mauville and Slateport.

Originally, there was a land bridge built between the two cities with the help of several aggron to transport slate back when Slateport was first being built. After construction finished, it got overrun with wildlife and was cordoned off to preserve the local ecology. The SCR was then built above it for trainers who were in a hurry.

The SCR was a massive two hundred thirty miles long, a winding serpent of cement that cut through the bay. It was a construction project only possible with the aid of countless pokémon, not a few of which could literally hold back the tide for hours at a time. Every fifty miles or so, a ramp led down to the lower path so trainers and cyclists could take a rest or camp out.

Where the SCR was built for speed, the lower path was the scenic route. It was a full mile wide at the widest point and nothing but your own two feet were permitted there. Trainers, wildlife, fishermen, and more walked this road if they weren't in a rush.

The crazy part was that triathletes were known to cycle the whole of the SCR in less than a day. The unathletic normies like myself could usually cross it in three to four days of hard cycling, not that this was my intent. I did have a bike in my backpack, the wonders of hammerspace, but the lower path held more appeal to me, mostly because I planned to find myself the very first addition to the party.

I had three possibilities in mind but as promised to Artoria, the first two would be scrapped. I wouldn't be adding another psychic for a while, even if a slowpoke or staryu of my own appealed to me. Sure, staryu weren't officially psychics until they evolved, but that sounded like technical rules-lawyering to me.

That left an electrike.

In the games, a manectric wasn't anything special, just a raikou downgrade. Hell, thanks to the bullshit that was Light Ball, you could even argue that a pikachu was better. The mascot rat was a bit slower, but got access to Extreme Speed, Nasty Plot, Fake Out, and a host of other useful moves that let it play both physical and special roles while a manectric's only standout coverage moves were Overheat and Flamethrower.

That was far from the case here.

In reality, these lightning-wolves were known be one of the fastest things on land in a world where even rats and tadpoles got superpowers. They used the electricity generated by their fur to stimulate their nervous systems, effectively mimicking Ai's Lightning Armor form Naruto. They were functionally constantly in a state of heightened awareness and generated so much electrical charge that they summoned stormclouds around them as they entered battle. Sure, they weren't as beefy as arcanine, but good fucking luck catching up to one in a battle.

And best of all, electrike weren't particularly hard to train so long as you could cope with their hyperactive personalities.

"Ready, Artoria?"

'Always, my lord.'

With that, we were off, our first step into the wilderness.

Author's Note

"Leader Moore" is Marcus Moore, Flannery's grandfather and former member of the Hoenn Elite Four. He is one of the few side characters who were given a full name in canon so I'm using it. Flannery is Flannery Moore. At this time, this being pre-canon by a few years, she has yet to become a gym leader and so Lavaridge is run by her grandfather. Her terrifying, former-E4 grandfather with a master-tier typhlosion.

So when you ask someone who's the "strongest gym leader" in the current time, the three names that come up are Aaron's mom, the former E4, and the current grand coordinator. Of these, everyone knows Sharon Fulan could have been an E4 but turned down the title. Only Wallace has never held such a title, and so he's seen as a dark horse, and all the more amazing for it.

Norman Maple hasn't been tapped for E4 status yet.

Waifu encountered!

Except not really. Aaron's very much still in the "OMG I'm old enough to be her grandfather" phase of reincarnation. If there are any pairings, that'll come later when he physically matures and mentally adjusts to the idea that he's young again.

I'm tabling the idea of romance for this story partially because grooming as a topic disturbs me and also partly because I'm not very good at writing feelings in general. See the numerous terrible examples in Legendary Tinker for evidence.

And yes, Ali the Altaria is male.

Mikuri is Wallace's Japanese name. Lutia is Lisia's. It's what a 16 on an encounter roll gets you I guess…

Chaz and Lisia actually met in Lilycove during their first contest in canon but I decided to change it up because that doesn't actually matter much. They spent "all night" talking at the lighthouse according to Chaz, which presumably is where his crush started.

 

[Fabled Webs]

Name: Aaron Fulan

Spoiler: Aaron Now

Retribrutus made this for me off an AI generator. I think it's a decent enough picture of him.

Age: 13
Height: 5'4"
Weight: 121 lb
Hair: Black, messy, getting long from traveling.
Eyes: Gray-blue, looks like a smug fucker, especially with that shit-eating grin he has whenever he makes fun of his team.
Likes: Team, Family, Katana, Longswords, Fusion cuisine
Dislikes: Being compared to a mall-ninja (He's a real swordsman, promise!)
Personality: Trollish asshat who's unexpectedly good at teaching others.
Description: Aaron got into kendo and HEMA because someone introduced them to him and he was a teenager who thought swords were cool. Before he knew it, he became one of the more well-known kendoka in the US and an instructor at a HEMA school. He's that sort of person, the kind who will take an interest in something and master it beyond reason.

Now that he is in a different world, he's taken the role of a trainer and teacher seriously, adopting the dreams of his team as his own. He wants to see the world, be the greatest psychic he can be, and, if he's honest with himself, become an anime sword saint alongside Artoria.

Name: Artoria

Spoiler: Artoria as a Gardevoir, but you know, with a spoon

^IMG Credit: Unkown (found on Reddit but the account was deleted)

Species: Kirlia
Type: Psychic/Fairy
Likes: Aaron Fulan, Jeanne, Knightly honor, Training, Food
Dislikes: Unknightly conduct, Jeanne's slobber, Mornings
Personality: Adamant, Brave, Calm
Current Standard Moves: Double Team, Growl, Teleport, Confusion, Shadow Sneak, Reflect, Light Screen
Current Custom Moves: Mana Burst, Mana Edge
Description: She is the daughter of Quinn and Alice, Sharon Fulan's gallade and gardevoir. Despite being female, she looks up to Quinn more than Alice and has always been a "daddy's girl," inasmuch as pokemon can follow human stereotypes. It has been her life mission to become as gallant and mighty a knight as her father. She swore to never use ranged attacks in combat until the day her knightly training is complete for fear that she will come to rely on them over her swordsmanship. She will only consider her training complete if and when she defeats Quinn in single combat in a display of martial skill.

She also greatly admires and loves Aaron Fulan. He was the first human to believe her goal is possible. She considers herself his knight and him her liegelord, a bond that can never be broken. Because of this, she loses her temper quickly when she feels his honor is being disparaged, jumping into fights even when Aaron does not feel particularly slighted.

Name: Jeanne

Spoiler: Jeanne as Mega Ampharos

^IMG Credit: Dragonith

Species: Mareep
Type: Electric
Likes: Aaron Fulan, Artoria, Contests, Being fabulous, That constipated face Artoria makes when she licks her silly, Plant fiber jerky
Dislikes: Getting dirty, Bears and wolves, Suicide runs
Personality: Jolly, Impish, Quirky
Current Standard Moves: Electric Terrain, Thunder Wave, Thunder Shock, Shock Wave, Charge, Tackle, Take Down, Cotton Spore
Current Custom Moves: NA
Description: Jeanne grew up in the wilds on the outskirts of New Mauville under the care of a pair of ampharos. As a mareep, being able to convert electricity to lumens was a status symbol: brighter the better. She didn't just want to be bright, she wanted to outshine the sun. This burning ambition and a need to prove herself made her leave her flock.

She fell in love with contests the very moment her new trainer showed one to her. It was perfect! The stage! The lights! The crowd! She swore then and there that one day, they'd all be chanting her name. Or struck dumb with awe and wonder. Really, either response would be appropriate, but she'd be the center of it all.

Through her training, she became closer to Artoria, who became something of an older sister figure to her, as well as a guide to all things human. Like any younger sister, Jeanne loves to get on Artoria's nerves a bit with what she sees as harmless pranks, even if Artoria makes her pay for it during training.

Her dreams of the spotlight have taken a bit of a backseat lately in favor of growing stronger. Recent experiences have shown her that though she has improved, it's not enough to simply be radiant, for radiance draws attention, good and bad. She now seeks to become powerful enough to stand by Artoria's side.

Name: Durvasa

Spoiler: Durvassa, the Sage of Rage

^IMG Credit: Oskars Samovics

Species: Mankey
Type: Fighting
Likes: Fighting, More fighting, Even MORE fighting, Knowledge, Wisdom, The Path to Enlightenment, Oh, and human anthropology occasionally
Dislikes: Artoria's spoon, Everything, Existence, A general aura of dissatisfaction with life is basically a mankey's entire existence
Personality: Angry, Tactical, Inquisitive
Current Standard Moves: Meditate, Encore, Leer, Focus Energy, Scratch, Fury Swipes, Covet, Karate Chop, Low Kick
Current Custom Moves: NA
Description: Whereas Artoria is the picture of calm discipline and cool elegance, Durvasa is a simmering ball of rage ready to blow up like a pipe bomb. Anger is as much a part of him as his own fur. It can be shed to a point, but never completely.

He grew up in the wilds of Petalburg Woods. Though he was never the strongest, biggest, or fastest mankey, he was the smartest. His former troupe split in two when there were too many, the troupe shedding the weaker members. Exiled from his territory, Durvasa followed the largest and strongest of his cohorts until he found a human to mug.

Unlike the others, he never lost sight of the goal, the human's food stores, and devised a tactic to acquire it. Knowing his troupe would never follow his lead, he used them like the berserk shock troopers they were. With clever use of Encore, he managed to occupy the flaffy, only to find the human himself was not as helpless as most of his kind.

Durvasa dueled Aaron Fulan and lost, beaten back by what he later learned was called kenjutsu, the art of the sword. Or as he knew it, the art of clubbing something with a stick until it stops moving. Recognizing that he would have died had the human's stick been properly sharp, he listened to the human's proposition: Evolution. Enlightenment. A new path. The world beyond.

It captivated him, the picture that this human child painted. There was something beyond the primeape, something beyond the woods he'd known all his life. He was angry at his loss, at his own weakness, but more than anything, a spark of curiosity was lit.

Now, with his new troupe leader, Durvasa seeks the horizon beyond what he once knew, both metaphysical and literal.

 

[Fabled Webs]

Appetizer 1.7

Aaron Fulan

Route 110, Hoenn Region

I spent four days running around in the lower path looking for any signs of an electrike. It wasn't as though they were rare, not really. I'd seen glimpses of their lime-green fur several times. Even camouflaged as they were in the tall grass, their yellow highlights often gave them away. The deeper the yellow, the closer they were to evolution.

And yet, I couldn't get a battle with a single one. Unlike the games, they were perfectly capable of fleeing and the truth was that most wild pokémon didn't enjoy battling trained pokémon. Trained pokémon were often stronger after all, why battle unless you yourself were scouting for a prospective trainer?

'My lord, there!' Artoria pointed. I followed her gaze, only to catch a glimpse of an electrike's tail. I returned the pokéball in my hand back to my belt and let out a frustrated sigh. Artoria placed a comforting hand on my cheek. 'We will find one who will join us, fret not, my lord.'

On the plus side, the fast little buggers gave Artoria plenty of practice in detecting life signals. She was getting better at identifying the exact species of pokémon nearby, as well as their direction and approximate distance. From what I could remember, that kind of spatial awareness was a must for combat teleportation.

"It's fine. If we can find an electrike by the time we leave, great. If not, then there will be other chances," I told her. "You hungry?"

'Hunger is the enemy,' she said seriously.

I smiled. I'd told her that because I thought it was funny and she'd picked up on it. Though, she might mostly be doing it to humor me. She did feed off of my positive emotions after all. In a sense, she was Skinner Box-ing herself. She behaved in a certain way and it elicited positive emotions in me, which she consumed as energy. In turn, this made her subconsciously want to do it more because feeling my joy, love, or even amusement was similarly pleasurable for her.

Empathic nutrition made for the best social chameleons.

"Yes, yes it is. There's a rest stop two miles away from where we are so we'll get there and eat, okay?"

'Yes, my lord.'

A little over half an hour later, we made it to the rest stop.

The rest stop was one of the larger ones, with a full dozen firepits branching out from a ramp connecting up to the SCR. I spied the odd cyclist or three along with two groups of trainers and several loners like myself already setting up camp. Dinner wouldn't be far off and it wasn't as though there were any reservations. So long as you stayed in the campground, you could pitch a tent wherever you liked.

A small ranger station sat in the middle, one of six dotted throughout the length of the path. I walked up to the man manning the station and presented my pokédex.

"Hello, sir."

"Evening. New trainer, eh?" he said with a knowing grin. At his side was a beefy looking granbull keeping a weather eye on the campers.

"Do I look that inexperienced?"

"Yeah, you do. You look like you've never been out in the routes before. First time camping?"

"Not the first."

"Trainer school doesn't count."

"Still not the first. Been a while for sure though. Anything I ought to know?"

"Not really." He registered my pokédex's trainer ID and returned it to me. "That was all you had to do. I can give you some cup ramen if you're low on supplies or don't want to cook."

"Nah, that's fine, sir. I don't mind cooking."

"Alright then. Suit yourself. Now let's see what you remember from your wilderness survival lessons. Go ahead and set up a fire."

Nodding, I headed off to an abandoned firepit and began pulling up dried grass to use as tinder. I bunched it up into a nest and stuffed it with a cotton ball, making sure to leave enough room for oxygen to pass through. I settled it inside the pit and began to look for my lighter.

"Let me," came a woman's voice.

I looked up to find a lithe, sweat-soaked figure. She looked to be about seventeen, or perhaps a young-looking twenty. Her long, brown hair was kept in a tight ponytail, letting her face soak up the evening breeze.

She had a foldable bike slung over one shoulder and a four foot tall doduo by her side. She'd evidently just come down from the SCR and picked the nearest firepit to join that looked like it didn't have an established friend group. In her hand was a flint firestarter attached to her keychain.

I nodded and shuffled aside. "Aaron, nice to meet you."

"Wanda. You don't mind if I join you?"

"Nah, it's fine. Nice doduo."

She scattered some sparks onto the nest and began to blow gently. "Thanks, my dad works with the Safari Zone and was allowed to get me a starter from there."

"That sounds like an amazing job."

"Haha, not really. Dad's an accountant, not a ranger. He just does their taxes and whatnot. But well, the chance to keep a single doduo wasn't too much to ask so they gave it to him instead of a year-end bonus."

"Huh, still cool. Do they have a name?"

"Nope. You must be from Petalburg with that ralts."

"Nope, Mossdeep."

"Ooh, nice. Got the gym sponsorship then?"

"Yes, though it's not as big a deal as everyone says it is."

"You say that now, but it'll matter once you have a few badges."

"Perhaps," I allowed. "Do you have any badges?"

"Just one," she said with a sheepish grin. "I know, I look old enough to have competed in a conference. I should have more, right?"

"I didn't say that. Plenty of people choose to travel without collecting badges. Coordinator?"

"Nope. Guess again."

I looked her over. The evening sun made her toned muscles glisten with sweat. The lighting and bike shorts did things for me that I wasn't entirely comfortable with. I quashed the surge of puberty and got a proper look at her. She was fit. No, she wasn't just fit, she had practically zero body fat, a rarity even in this far more active world. Every inch of her seemed to be built out of whipcord muscles, built for speed and stamina over power. Her calves looked like she could kick my head clean off my shoulders.

"Professional cyclist?"

"Yup. Well, triathlete, but close enough. Doduo and I aren't too into battling. We're competing in the Hoenn Triathlon for our fourth year running."

"That's impressive. I hope you do well."

"Yeah, don't we all." She dug around in her backpack and pulled out a container of some lean poultry alongside a metal grate. A nugget of something wrapped in aluminum foil followed. "Mind if I toss these on the fire?"

"Go ahead. I'm curious to see what a triathlete eats anyway."

"Today? A baked potato and a grilled chicken salad. What about you? Don't tell me you have nothing but hot dogs and s'mores in your backpack."

"Of course not," I scoffed as I prepared a bowl of rice and clean water from the outdoor faucet. "It's curry rice."

"Nice, I definitely didn't know how to cook something like that at your age."

"What's so hard about it? The curry comes in little blocks you break off like chocolate squares. After that it's all just dumping in pork and veggies and letting it simmer. Want some?"

"No thanks. Don't tempt me. Watching my calories is hard enough as it is."

"Fair."

The two of us fell into a comfortable silence as we prepared and ate our respective dinners. As I was packing away the leftovers for tomorrow's lunch, I noticed the doduo. He? She? They? They had finished their meal long before the trainers and were now running up and down the ramp to the cycling road, burning off some of that restless energy the bird pokémon were known for.

"Say, Wanda?"

"What's up?"

"Your doduo. How do they do that?"

"Do what?"

"Run. You know, how do they decide when and where to turn?"

She grinned. "What? Did you think each head would point in a separate direction and they'd yank each other like a cartoon?"

"Heh, it sounds stupid if you put it that way," I said sheepishly.

"Well they do. Or, the young ones do. Both heads have control over the whole body and it takes some time before a doduo can figure out how to work together with themselves."

"Huh, so it's just really good cooperation?"

"That's part of it. They're known for bickering with themselves a lot, but the truth is that beyond the surface-level arguments, they're incredibly well synchronized by necessity. That, and they're psychic."

That drew me back. "Wait, what?"

"Not really. Kind of. You know how some twins have a psychic connection?"

"Yup. My siblings have it. They're really powerful."

"Huh… I usually have to convince people that it's true. Well, doduo are all twins. They quickly develop an instinctive understanding of their other half even if they lack the outward expression of psychic power like telepathy. So, they're not true psychic types, but they have a sort of psychic synchronization that only applies to their twin."

What had started as idle curiosity ended up being far more fascinating than I first expected. This, this was why I loved pokémon so much. "So… Can it be trained?"

"You mean, can I train a doduo to improve their coordination?"

"Yeah."

"Yup. Why? Interested in having one for yourself?"

"No. You know how I said I'm from Mossdeep?"

"Right, fancy gym sponsor."

"Well, I'm psychic too, though not in any way that matters. Basically, I can connect to my ralts a little and we send emotions and little nudges to each other."

She caught on fast. "And you want to know if it's possible to learn to do what a doduo does instinctively. Not bad, kid."

"Thanks, so… can you teach me?"

"Nope."

"Ehh?"

"Not for free anyway. Training techniques are personal, you know that. What do I get for helping you?"

"It doesn't hurt you to help me," I tried.

"It doesn't help me either."

I offered her my box of curry. "A few good meals?"

"Tempting, but again, diet."

"Ugh, fine… I don't think I have much that can help you as a triathlete."

"Probably not. Tell you what though? I wouldn't mind telling you how I've been training my doduo, but only if you beat them in a battle."

"Seriously? What happened to techniques being personal?"

She shrugged. "It's personal so I can decide how I want to give it out. Besides, it's not a huge secret or anything. Like I said, every doduo does this instinctively so you could just find another trainer, or look it up when you get somewhere with better internet connection."

"And the battle?"

"I really want to know what a ralts is doing with a spoon," she admitted. She pointed to Artoria, who sensed our attention and immediately knelt at attention. When no command was forthcoming, she went back to polishing her spoon to a mirror finish. "Seriously, your ralts takes better care of that spoon than a hypno cares for its pendulum. What's with that?"

"So, curiosity then?"

"Yup. We'll battle at sunrise. Sound good?"

I nodded. "Artoria will be ready."

"That's that then. I'm going to towel off and get some sleep. Eighty miles a day isn't the worst I've done, but it's definitely not fun."

"Eighty? I've been walking twenty-four or so."

"That's a respectable amount if you're walking. Just don't overdo it."

"Yeah, good night, Wanda."

"Night, Aaron."

We stayed up for a while longer, though I eventually crawled into my sleeping bag. The night was far too nice for a tent so I just set up a tarp below the sleeping bag to keep the dew off. Before long, I felt Artoria crawl into the hood of my bag, that miniature pocket more like a full set of blankets to her foot-tall frame.

'We duel at dawn,' she said. I could hear the excitement in her voice.

"We do. You're going to need your rest."

'Yes, my lord. Good night.'

"Good night, Artoria."

X​

Dawn found Wanda and I standing across from each other in a manmade clearing. Manmade, because the tall grass had been trimmed to more manageable heights specifically to allow trainers to battle one another in a more open environment. In front of her stood her doduo, fully rested from the previous day's run.

Artoria hopped off my shoulder in a graceful flip, landing with her spoon-sword pointed towards her opponent's heads. Or, more like their shins, but it was the thought that counted.

'This shall be a wonderful test of my skill,' she said, though it came out as "Ralts, ralts-ralts" to everyone else.

"Duo."

I didn't know what the twins told her but judging by the way her grip on her sword tightened, it was anything but flattering. Truly, I had such a prideful partner.

"You two need a ref?" asked the ranger from last night.

"No, this is a friendly spar and it's only one on one anyway. I'm not going to ask for a wager if you don't," said Wanda.

I nodded. Honestly? That was a bit of a relief. I had little expectations of victory here. Unlike the poochyena, this doduo was experienced. And unlike the machop, they clearly didn't have the patience to want to coach us.

"Alright then. I'll still be keeping an eye out so don't do anything too crazy."

"Yes, sir," we echoed each other.

"Ready?"

"Yeah."

"Then give us your best shot!" Wanda grinned like a loon. I supposed it took a certain type of adrenaline junkie to want to become a pro triathlete.

"Artoria, forget about point locations. You're not likely to reach their head and they don't exactly have wrists. Double Team then target the joints," I told her.

She obeyed immediately. Her form shimmered into four copies, the best she could do at the moment, and they closed on the doduo as one. Before she took two steps, Wanda barked out her own order.

"Don't let her. Intercept with Peck!"

Doduo ran forward, their natural speed far outstripping a ralts'. Their long stride closed the gap between them and the nearest clone in a second. The head on the left streaked out with a glowing beak, piercing the copy through the chest. Even as the illusion faded, it was already turning left to guard against the nearest copy. At the same time, its sibling turned right to do the same.

Three more strikes lanced out in rapid succession, dispelling the rest of Artoria's illusions and sending her skidding back as she guarded the blow with her spoon.

We badly underestimated how fast a doduo could be. It was one thing to read that they were fast predators, and another matter to see it in action. I had thought Artoria could chip away at their feet like Wander from Shadow of the Colossus, but that wasn't likely to be an option at this rate.

"Double Team into Mana Burst," I called. "Hari-men!"

My little knight grunted her understanding and ran forward, three more copies springing from her side. Across from me, Wanda looked on with a confident smile, feeling no need to interrupt her pokémon.

Then, I had the pleasure of seeing their eyes widen as Artoria put on the speed. All four copies accelerated towards their opponent like loosed arrows.

"Fury Attack!"

There wasn't aesthetically any distinction between Fury Attack and Peck, only that Peck was usually a singular thrust with flying type energy while Fury Attack was a series of consecutive thrusts. In this case, the doduo reacted admirably, targeting every copy in a single second. The strikes were individually too fast for me to see, but that didn't matter. Artoria had better vision than me and she was waiting for it.

I saw her body flicker with the telltale sign of psychic reinforcement before her sword flicked out and slapped the head targeting her on the beak. The doduo's head and neck likely out-massed her entire body, but she didn't need to force it to turn completely, only just enough.

Her sword lanced out in a perfect uchi-men, a downward stroke that found her opponent's head with the edge of her spoon. A meaty thwack rang out across the clearing as its head was sent reeling back from the counter.

"Doduo!" they cried out, the second head flinching from the referred pain.

"Now, Burst into Edge!" I called.

Artoria launched herself into the air and struck out with a glowing blue spoon towards their body. The explosive force of the Confusion-enhanced spoon was enough to send them skidding back. She landed in a practiced flip that was half controlled with Confusion, sword at the ready.

As she prepared her next assault, Wanda spoke. "Alright, that might be the weirdest ralts I've ever seen. But enough's enough. Supersonic!"

Then, the two heads raised themselves into the air and let out an ear-splitting screech. The world went topsy-turvy. It was one more difference from the games that I didn't fully think through. Sound moves were fucking dangerous, dangerous and indiscriminate.

I clamped my hands over my ears and saw Wanda had produced a pair of headphones to do the same. She gave me a cheeky grin and waved with her fingers.

Up close, the experience must have been very different. Artoria was on her knees, sword forgotten as she dizzily tried to regain her footing.

"Rage!"

After that, it wasn't much of a fight. I couldn't watch the thrashing and retrieved Artoria with her pokéball in short order.

"That was unfair," I grouched. We were seated on a log, our things all packed up and ready to head our separate ways.

"No such thing," Wanda said. "It's a legitimate tactic. If it makes you feel better, in a tournament, psychic barriers will negate the worst of it for trainers."

"There's got to be a way to deal with sound moves like that.'

"Humans adapt like pokémon. Eventually, you'll get used to it. Oh, you'll never truly be able to ignore it like an exploud could, but experienced trainers aren't crippled by it."

"So, what? You just… suck it up and learn to bear it?"

"Yeah. Why do you think so many trainers hate zubat? Even being in close proximity to a group of them can be dizzying if you're not used to it."

"Damn." I sprayed some of the contents of a potion bottle into a warm sponge and handed it to Artoria. Because of her tiny size, a normal spray nozzle wouldn't be accurate enough so mom trained her ralts to treat themselves.

"I was impressed with that ralts though. Artoria, was it? I've never seen a swordsman ralts before."

"Yeah, she's unique."

"Wait, she?"

"Yup. She's going to be the first gardevoir swordmaster."

"Huh… Alright, if you say so."

When Artoria was done dabbing the sponge on her bruises, I passed her an oran berry. She took the sweet treat gratefully and started to nibble.

"So, any advice for me?"

"Other than to keep asking for advice from people with more experience than you? Not really. I'm not an expert on swords so I can't really correct your ralts and her form looked pretty good from what I can tell. Or at least, it looked really cool. I wouldn't know if it's good."

"Yeah, figures. Thanks for the battle."

"Nah, I'm the one who asked. Besides, I guess I can tell you what I did to train my doduo."

"Wait, you will?"

"I don't see why not."

"What happened to beating them in a battle?"

She shrugged. "I didn't really expect you to win. I was honestly just curious about that weird sword-spoon thing she's got going on." She dug around in her backpack and pulled out three cups, each with little pinholes at the base. She set them on the log, bottom side up. "So, way back when doduo was young, I used to hide treats under each cup. I also had these stinky pellets that looked similar, see? And then, I'd have both heads guess at the same time. They needed to make their guess in three seconds and point at the same cup. If they failed, they'd eat the stinky treat."

"That's… That's it?" I asked incredulously.

"What? Did you expect some super-secret training exercise?"

"I mean… Kind of?"

"Heh, nah, no way. Not from me. It was just a simple exercise one of dad's colleagues, a ranger in the Safari Zone, taught me. The goal isn't some special move but to synchronize their reaction times and thought patterns. Repeat a task enough, force them to cooperate enough, and you'll eventually get two heads that think as one. That's really all there is to it."

"Huh…"

"Don't they do something like this in Mossdeep?"

"Not really. Gym pokémon tended to be more experienced, so I don't have much experience with very young pokémon. I did get to sit in on some psychic seminars though. There, a more experienced psychic, usually an alakazam or gardevoir, would guide the gym pokémon in opening their minds and whatnot. It wasn't anything so… mundane."

"Mundane is just fine if it works, kiddo."

"Yeah, I get it. Thanks, Wanda."

She stood and dusted herself off. "No problem, kid. I'm going to go head out now. I think that if I start riding, I can cover another eighty miles today."

And with that, she was off.

Author's Note

I wanted to portray the life of a trainer in an established route. I figured that a route so close to two major cities would be heavily monitored and wondered what a mix of cycling and camping roads would look like. This was the result. Also, this is what shit tracking rolls get me. No thundo-doggo.

Also, Japanese people really, really like their curry rice, especially when camping. Is it stereotyping if it's true?

A top-tier cyclist can bike more than 250 miles per day in good conditions. Eighty isn't unreasonable, even if it sounds insane to a lazy bum like me. A normal person can walk three miles an hour, or about twenty-four miles per day. Aaron, by necessity in this world, is rather fit thanks to aura and anime shenanigans.

Hari-men is often mistaken for harai-men and vice-versa. Hari is a swift, strong slap to the side of the opponent's sword, intended to move their sword out of the center so your scan take its place and strike. It's a quick, sharp movement. Harai is a longer sweep rather than a slap. The distinction is semantic in my opinion, but Aaron would know the difference and drilled it into Artoria.

Normally, hari waza is not considered a counter, an oji waza, but such distinctions tend to blur together in combat.

 

[Fabled Webs]

Appetizer 1.8

Aaron Fulan
Route 110, Hoenn Region

After receiving a few more tips and adding Wanda to my contact list, it wasn't long before we went our separate ways. Wanda intended to make another seventy or eighty miles today while I made my way towards Mauville at a more leisurely pace.

We continued on the lower path for several minutes before Artoria spoke.

'I failed,' she said morosely, ever serious.

"We failed," I corrected her, "and not because of anything we did. Sometimes, the odds are too stacked against us."

'That-'

"Sounds cowardly? It's okay to criticize, Artoria. I'm not going to get mad."

'… Yes…'

"And what if I told you that I expected this outcome? I didn't truly expect to win against Wanda and her doduo."

Then why did you have me battle?'

"Let me ask you a question with another: What did you lose?"

'My lord?'

"We lost the battle, sure, but what did we lose?"

'…'

"We lost nothing," I informed her gently. I stepped around a particularly large rock. "We lost nothing but gained valuable experience. Did you know Supersonic could be so dangerous outside of a gym battle?"

'No…'

"And neither did I. And now we know. We lost, but if a bruised ego is all it cost us, then that's a price I'll pay every time."

'She was not as imposing as father,' Artoria said mulishly.

"Of course not. Your dad's a gallade who mom keeps in reserve for trainers looking for their eighth badge. Even then, he's the team anchor that shows up to murder-blend his way through whatever poor sucker happens to show. Take this as proof of just how far we need to go."

'Yes, my lord. It's just… I won against the hound and the fighter so I…'

"Humbling, isn't it?"

'Yes…'

"Well, how about we train as we move? Wanda made a lot of sense, you know."

'I am too old to be baited with snacks!'

"Liar. You'd do anything for a pecha poffin straight out of the oven," I teased. "Admit it."

'Hauu… Hunger is the enemy…'

She sounded so adorable when she was pouting that I couldn't help myself. I swept her off my shoulder and into my hands before giving her a good scratch behind the horns. "You're way too cute, Artoria."

'M-My lord! This isn't proper,' she flailed, though still mindful to not resort to telekinesis.

I decided to spare her after a moment's humiliation and returned her to my shoulder. "I was thinking. When you've recovered from your battle, you're going to run alongside me using Mana Burst. I'm not moving very fast, but I think it'd be a good way to train your stamina."

'I can do that right now,' she said as she made to hop off.

I held out my hand and caught her. "Nope. After lunch. Let the potion fully take effect. Even if you don't feel tired, there could be long-lasting effects if you strain yourself."

'Very well, my lord. Shall I look for another electric hound?'

"No, not right now. I don't want you battling at the moment anyway. We'll play a game instead."

'A game?'

"Yup. I'm going to look at something and then count to five. At the end of the count, you're going to try to peak in my mind as quickly as possible to tell me what my vision is focused on."

'I see. Is this meant to improve our bond?'

"Right. Do you remember back when you battled that poochyena and you were able to see even through the Sand Attack by using my eyes?"

'Yes, I… I'm not sure how I did it.'

"Psychic energy is influenced heavily by our emotions," I explained. This was one of the things I'd made sure to look into after that incident. One of the articles in the Mossdeep Archive held the answers. "You're a ralts, which means you use your horns to receive emotional signals constantly. I'm sure you've used psychic signals to communicate with your parents in the past as well. I think that because we were emotionally synched, you were able to subconsciously latch onto that and reinforce our connection to use my senses as if they were your own."

'Ah, I understand. If we practice, we should be able to do this instantly to never be caught unawares. Brilliant. As expected of my lord.'

"I wouldn't say never," I replied sheepishly. Even a month later, her utter faith in me was sometimes a little uncomfortable. "But that's the idea. Ready?"

'Yes!'

"Okay, count to five."

'Five… Four… Three…'

X​

Another day passed in this manner. We divided our trekking time between working on Mana Burst, playing an increasingly elaborate game of I Spy, and battling the occasional wild pokémon or trainer.

Although most wild pokémon stayed out of our way, there were a few reasons some would let themselves encounter trainers. A few were just waking up or just turning in, depending on their circadian rhythm and our meetings were purely accidental. Others wished to scope us out as prospective challenges for one reason or another, most commonly for food or to test themselves. Still others were defending their territory, much like any wild animal back on earth, and happened to view humans as rivals for food or causes of unacceptable disturbance.

But most commonly, they just didn't care one way or another and allowed themselves to be stumbled upon, neither moving out of the way nor seeking out human contact.

Like the marill Artoria was facing right this moment.

It was strong, remarkably so. Not to such a degree that I suspected a Huge Power mutation, which was just myofibrillar hypertrophy enhanced by your average pokémon fuckery and aura, but strong enough that I suspected it was close to evolving. It knew an incredibly diverse array of moves, from Rollout and Tackle to Water Gun, Charm, Bubble Beam, and even Bounce. Most wild pokémon knew maybe three or four.

A hail of compressed bubbles spread form the marill's mouth at speeds comparable to an amateur baseball. Artoria slashed her sword from the bottom up in a textbook suri-age, the glowing light of Mana Edge leaving a trail behind her swing.

The head of her spoon made contact with the first bubble, cleaving it in half. At the same time, the psychic energy stored in Mana Edge exploded outward, causing a chain reaction that cascaded back towards the marill. Every bubble in its Bubble Beam was deflected or detonated prematurely.

"M-Marill?" It had time to cry out in dismay before Artoria closed the gap with a series of Mana Bursts in a zigzag pattern, nailing it in the head and sending sailing into the reservoir beyond.

"That was amazing," I complimented her. "Your suri-age was clean and you released your control over Mana Edge at just the right time. Well done."

'It wasn't much, my lord,' she demurred. 'I only carried out your instructions to the best of my ability.'

"That alone is good. You took the image I had from my mind without me telling you anything. Our bond is growing."

'It is, isn't it?'

I smiled and handed her another oran berry. I was starting to run out after five days of traveling but that was a minor problem in the face of her overwhelming improvement. She wouldn't have been able to time a perfect counter like that a mere week ago.

"Are you up for another battle?"

'Yes, I was not harmed at all.'

"In that case, let's let out some bait for an electrike. If we can't catch one, we should make one come to us."

'Very well, my lord.'

We stopped for lunch and did as I'd read. There were hundreds of stories online and in historical records of how pokémon were tamed using a bribe to initiate a conversation. After all, though some may be feral, there were just as many so called "wild" pokémon that had human-like intelligences. At the bare minimum, they were capable of conversing with one another, even if the contents of said conversation in the wild tended to begin and end with "Please don't eat me."

Thinking about it, the wilds of the pokémon world were almost as cutthroat as the deserts of Hueco Mundo from Bleach. Luckily, the routes designated by the League was not truly wild, not with the number of travelers and rangers patrolling the area.

This time, when Artoria and I settled down for lunch, I prepared three plates of curry rice, though Artoria's share was admittedly more like an extra-small rice ball. Taking the third, I placed it off to the side a little ways so a wild pokémon wouldn't feel like all the attention was on them should they feel skittish.

As with most animals, the goal was to leave the initiative in their corner.

"Alright, we don't know that this will bring in an electrike," I told her, "but that's fine. I want you to talk with whichever pokémon shows up and see if there are any powerful electrike around looking for a trainer."

'I will convey your words, my lord,' Artoria said, as serious as someone reading a will.

We waited and had lunch. I had my pokédex opened to one side, an article on the intricacies of the move Teleport, but kept one eye open for anyone going for the free food.

Half an hour in, the bush stirred and a grayish-green blob with a yellow, feathery ornament on its head slowly shuffled into the rest stop.

The gulpin was literally called the "stomach pokémon" because most of its spherical body by volume was taken up by its stomach. I didn't have anything against poison types, but it was about as far from my list of desired teammates as possible.

Its blob-like body made it very slow and though it did sport some decent defenses against blunt trauma, its primary defense against predators was simply being as unappetizing as possible. It constructed a unique, smelly poison that it excreted from its pores to turn away attackers.

Worst of all, it was as dumb as a brick. Most pokémon were capable of some level of intelligence but gulpin were about as far left of the bell curve as you could get and still technically qualify as sapient. Because most of their bodies were taken up by their stomachs, they had comparatively small brains and hearts, which made for both lacking smarts and stamina.

I sighed and weighed my options. "Artoria, stop it. Make sure you stop breathing and get back when you see it excreting gases."

'Yes, my lord.' She brandished her sword and stood between it and the food. 'Halt, round creature!'

"Guul?" it moaned.

"Artoria, mind translating for me?"

'It desires sustenance.'

"Tell it that if it can tell me where to find an electrike, you'll move aside." There was some back and forth in pokéspeak that just sounded like repeated names to me. "What now?"

'The round creature says the lightning hounds are here.'

"Can it be more specific?"

She shook her head. 'Here. Run fast. Hurry much.'

"Okay, that must mean they have a range and it covers the entire path. I was hoping it would know where a den was."

'Shall I move?'

"Yeah, sure, why not?"

We watched as the gulpin slowly crawled over to the plate of curry. When it reached the food, it opened its mouth in a boneless yawn and proceeded to drape itself over the meal. Everything, plate and all, vanished into its stomach and I knew I wouldn't be getting that back. I saw Artoria shudder in disgust at the sight.

"Well, that idea's a bust," I said. "Let's pack up and try again in the evening."

'Yes, my lord.'

X​

Aaron Fulan
Mauville City, Hoenn Region

Not one. Not one fucking electrike!

Oh, Artoria regularly caught glimpses of the damn mutts thanks to her expanding psychic awareness, but nooo, not a single one took an interest in the food laid out for them. I tried curry, berries, poffins, jerky, and even random bits of trail mix.

Artoria battled six marill, two wingull, four gulpin, and even the odd taillow, but not a single electrike.

Not. A. One.

Sour grapes? Salty?

YES. Yes I was. What gave it away?

After my frustration boiled over, I took a ramp up to the SCR and cycled for a day to burn off stress. This experience thoroughly poisoned the electrike line for me. I still wanted an electric type at some point, but I decided after eight days of travel in Route 110 that it wouldn't be an electrike.

On the plus side, Artoria moved on from Double Team to Teleport. The move took her several seconds to charge, but I was happy to see her making visible progress. She could warp to anywhere in her line of sight or to myself as I acted as something of a psychic anchor for her abilities.

We continued playing our game of I Spy and I hoped that we could soon further complicate the exercise by having her teleport to whatever I was thinking of.

Once she got the hang of that, I'd start her on Shadow Sneak.

Shadow Sneak was the egg move she'd inherited from her father. By definition, it was the move she'd known longest, but also the move she held the least control over. Psychics didn't mix well with ghost types and mastering ghost type moves was always a difficult proposition. I kept pushing it back because despite the utility, I felt that the time it took to master Shadow Sneak could be better spent on reinforcing her foundations.

The two of us trudged towards the city, relieved to see signs of civilization again. Sure there were ranger stations and campsites along the lower path, but they couldn't measure up to a good bed and a warm meal I didn't have to cook myself.

Mauville City was the Hoenn region's equivalent of New York. It was happening, the center of culture and economy. Just about every major corporation to call the region home had its headquarters here, with the only three exceptions I could think of being Devon Corp in Rustboro, Star Signs Astronomical Research Corporation in Mossdeep, and a handful of shipping conglomerates in Lilycove and Slateport.

It boasted a major international airport and two smaller airfields as well as a power plant that provided electricity to most of the surrounding towns, including Verdanturf and Slateport. It also had a thriving entertainment district that boasted the biggest casino in the region.

The two of us made a beeline for the pokémon center, where I entrusted Artoria to the nurse and gave my family a call to let them know I hadn't fallen off the path and drowned in the reservoir or something. I hadn't called them since Slateport due to connectivity issues. At least Tate and Liza got to have a laugh at my abject failure to find an electrike.

X​

We felt much more like ourselves following a hot meal and a comfy bed. By now, the two of us were used to rising with the sun and so were among the first to step into the pokémon center canteen. We ignored the handful of people already breaking fast and made our way to the serving line.

There was a cafeteria lady there with a buffet tray of eggs, sausages, fruits, berries, yogurt, and potatoes. She was a squat, corpulent woman with curly blonde hair held behind a hair net. Her genial smile reminded me of high school cafeterias, though the food looked significantly better.

"Good morning, dear. What'll it be?" she greeted me.

"Hello, ma'am. Can I have a plate with a half-serving of everything? I'd like to try at least a bite of all of it," I said. I usually wasn't much for heavy breakfasts, the Fulan family typically settled for rice, congee, or the like, but the spread smelled heavenly.

"Of course dear. And for your lovely ralts?"

"We'll share a plate then come back if we want like something specific."

Nodding, she loaded me up and waved me away with a small carton of orange juice. The whole interaction was remarkably homey, mundane in a nice, comforting way.

The two of us sat in the far corner, away from other trainers.

Before I began to dig in, I cut small portions of each dish and held them out to Artoria to try. Being very human-like, the ralts line was perfectly happy to eat human food. This also meant they had a wide array of likes and dislikes unique to each individual.

Artoria and I had a tradition of sorts: Every time we encountered a dish she had not tried yet, I would proffer a morsel for her to try. She would protest that it was "unknightly" to have the lord feed his knight, and I would poke and prod until she gave in and took a bite.

It was a familiar ritual between us.

"Say aah," I said with a grin, holding out a forkful of scrambled eggs, this one mixed with something akin to feta cheese and spinach.

'I will not, my liege,' she said stiffly. 'I refuse to be hand-fed like a newborn.'

"You haven't tried scrambled eggs before. You promised you'd try anything at least once."

'I know what eggs taste like.'

"Eggs are such a versatile ingredient that they can taste like anything. Besides, these are a little different, I promise. The cheese and spinach really adds to the flavor."

'Then give me the fork and I shall feed myself.'

"Nope. Come on, Artoria, my hand's getting tired."

'Then please enjoy your meal and cease pestering your knight,' she sniffed.

I continued to proffer it, holding the gently steaming eggs an inch from her nose. "People are going to stare, you know."

'Uuuu…'

"Just a bite, Artoria."

'I am happy with my pecha berry.'

"A bite. Your sweet tooth isn't doing you any favors. You need to eat healthier."

'Pecha berries are healthy!'

"They are, but diversity is the best way to maintain good nutrition."

'You read that in an online pamphlet, didn't you, my lord?'

"Guilty~ But it's still true. Now eat your egg. If you do, I promise I'll let you have your pecha too."

She let out a tired sigh and leaned forward to nibble a little on my fork. Being a foot tall, even that small forkful looked like one of those face-sized cotton candies found in carnivals. Gingerly, she gave it a chew. 'So soft…'

"Right?" I flipped the fork and popped the rest into my mouth. "These are excellent scrambled eggs. Creamy, soft, and not too salty. A good bit of pepper, too. Good scrambled eggs should have enough salt to be flavorful without drowning out the flavor of the eggs and these are perfect."

'I see…'

"You can have more, you know."

'I… Yes, my liege.'

After an adorably awkward breakfast in which I convinced Artoria to eat less sweets, the two of us went through her kendo kata in an isolated corner of the yard. Normally, I would be the uchidachi, the teacher, while she would be the shidachi, the student, but because of our height difference, she had to learn both sides of every kata.

It represented a bit of a hurdle early on, but now that she'd had the time to test these forms in combat, I thought it worked out better for her. She flowed from form strike to strike, alternating between teacher and student roles as though in a trance. It was beautiful to watch and I couldn't help the stirrings of pride in my chest as I went through my own workout.

This was my student, my partner.

Author's Note

A group of mice is called a mischief. A group of rabbits is called a fluffle. Marill are called "aqua mouse" pokémon while azumarill are called "aqua rabbit pokémon." In an ideal scenario, a group of marill is led by an azumarill, which is why they are collectively still called a fluffle.

Myofibrillar hypertrophy is a real-life genetic mutation in which your muscles are denser than they should be, making you much stronger than normal. It's the closest real-world equivalent to anime physiques like Goku's where a character needs to eat a ton but is super strong.

Electrike encounter rolls? Yeah, I'm paying for that alakazite right now. Nothing. Not a fucking thing. I even gave myself an easy DC10 since it's a common pokémon. Didn't roll 10 or above even once.

Oh, the general roll for remembering anything in Mauville was… a 2!