When is a Spoon a Sword? (Pokemon OC-Insert)
- Thread starter Fabled Webs
- Start date
I must say, the second half is a nice vision into the minds and characters of the team. Artoria, true to her name, is the stoic and dependable knight that hides a rather warm and caring core, Jeanne is a diva, but clearly loving, wishing to inspire. And Durvasa is visibly a budding Sage, ever curious and willing to learn, to grow. They are going to be a force once they realize their potential.
And then there is the Sun Moth. I am going to be chuckling if it turns out he managed to actually pull Mothra to himself.
And then there is the Sun Moth. I am going to be chuckling if it turns out he managed to actually pull Mothra to himself.
4.8.5 Onale Gates & Sabine Soto
Fabled Webs
Lord Weaver, Glorious and Wise
- Location
- Arlington, VA
Onale's Pokemon
- Ember (Combusken)
Sabine's Pokemon
- Lucky (Electabuzz)
- Zippy (Ninjask)
- Unnamed (Eevee)
- Nibbles (Axew)
Interlude 4.8.5: Onale Gates & Sabine Soto
Onale Gates
Slateport City
I made my way towards the Slateport contest hall with a confident stride. Mama always said confidence was the secret to success. People will only believe in you if you believe in yourself.
I'd always found that harder than it sounded. Believe in myself? Why? There wasn't anything impressive about me. I was just some farm girl with a strange instrument that hardly anyone played anymore. Take away grandma's hurdy gurdy and I was… just plain Onale.
"Combus," Ember crooned beside me. He marched in lockstep with me and noticed when I lagged behind.
"Thanks, Em," I said with a smile. I straightened my spine and continued forward. Maybe I could believe in my team instead? Mama said they'd be like family and what kinda gal would I be if I didn't believe in family?
I walked inside to register for the normal-rank contest. I stuck out like a sore thumb. I wore the same outfit I had in Oldale, a village girl's frock painstakingly stitched from faded red cloth, a milky white apron, and mama's shawl she'd embroidered with little flames and music notes just for Ember and I.
I was sorely underdressed. I saw people in cocktail dresses and evening gowns, bespoke suits and faux-military blazers. Heck, there was even one man in a pirate outfit with a chatot on his shoulder, eyepatch included.
Slateport wasn't Oldale. They may both be normal-rank contests, but Slateport was the big city, with lights and sound systems and a big stage and more than a hundred times the population. This contest wouldn't be held in a barn, but in the very same building as the Grand Festival. This was nothing like the one in my hometown.
'That you lost,' an accusatory voice echoed.
I winced at the thought. Yeah, I'd lost a hometown contest, one where most everyone knew me. But so what? Ember evolved for me. For us. He evolved so today would be different. We were better. My song was more polished. Ember's dance was smoother. We'd win here because we lost in Oldale.
With that determined mindset, I found myself a seat in the waiting hall. Ember leaned against the wall next to me, eyes closed and seemingly asleep. I knew better; he was always alert and ready for a scrap, especially now that he was a fighting type.
Having him by my side was a huge relief. If I felt underdressed and outclassed by the trainers in the room, he must have made the other pokemon feel the same way. I saw lillipup, marill, snubbull, and a roselia. Its trainer was a green-haired boy in a violet jacket and teal trousers, stylish I supposed, if in a very "high fashion" sort of way. He caught me looking and approached. He had nice hair, forest green like his roselia.
He looked at Ember, then at me. "Sapling?"
"Busken!" Ember answered for me, the orange feathers of his crown igniting with his cheerful cry.
I let the warmth stoke my confidence. "Yup. Onale Gates, what's your name?"
"Drew Greenwald," he replied with a confident smile. He flipped his hair back with a toss of his neck like a shampoo model; I didn't know anyone did that in real life. Though to be fair, he did look like he could be a male model. "Roselia and I will be taking the ribbon."
"Will you? This isn't my first contest."
"Yeah? How many ribbons do you have?"
"None, but so what? Our show is better than ever. How many ribbons do you have?"
"T-That's not your business," he said hastily. "Roselia and I will wow the judges; that's all that matters."
I may be a country girl, but I could read between the lines. "You don't have a ribbon either, do you? So stop acting like you're all that."
"All that? Girl, we are 'all that.' Roselia and I almost won our contest in Verdanturf. The only reason we lost was because some girl who's been around for three years in Indigo and Sinnoh decided to come do her contest tour here. She's probably already up in super-ranks already so there's no one to stop us from winning anymore."
I frowned. Those weren't common, but they weren't unheard of either. Coordinators didn't tend to hop around regions like battlers, but there were always a few that sought a new stage. "Well I guess I'll just have to tell her you said hi at the Grand Festival. The Oldale Contest wasn't easy pickings either."
"Oldale?" Drew scoffed. He looked me up and down and muttered, "No wonder."
I felt a growl at the back of my throat. Oldale was out of the way, but damn it, it was my hometown! "And what does that mean?"
"You look like an inelegant country bumpkin and your instrument belongs in a museum. Really, when's the last time anyone's played one of those? The Fragmentation Era?"
"Yeah? What the hell do you know? You're a prissy fop who probably spends more time on his hair than actually training his pokemon. I bet your hair will go up in flames from all that mousse if you come any closer, jerk."
"Oh, please. Sweetheart, this is Slateport, not some back-country hick town like Oldale. You're not going to impress the judges with a cute song and a twirl. A real coordinator needs pizzazz! Style! You know, you could stand to learn from me," he said with a smarmy smile.
"Like hell. What would I learn from you, Mr. Ribbonless?" I snorted. I wanted to punch that smug smirk off his face. If I didn't leave, Ember looked like he'd do it for me and I couldn't get disqualified. "Come on, Ember. Let's go find some clean air, without enough mousse to start a gas fire."
I stormed off, already having made a spectacle of myself. Tears stung at my eyes but I forced them down. I knew I'd meet people like that. Hell, my friends and neighbors told me so too. Oldale wasn't a big city. I didn't come from money or a legacy. But becoming Grand Coordinator was my dream, one I shared with Ember.
I didn't have any sparkly dresses or the haute couture brands that people obsessed over. I wore a medieval frock because I wanted to represent my town and the people who supported me. So what if I didn't win the hometown contest? I'd be more insulted if they forced Aaron to lose!
"Combus…" Ember crooned by my side, his clawed, feathered hand warm in mine.
"None of that matters," I told him. "Whatever that fop says doesn't matter. We just have to go up there and show these cityfolk what good music and dance looks like."
"Combusken."
The two of us watched as each coordinator went up to perform. Each appeals round helped me relax a bit. Fifteen points. Ten. Sixteen. Twelve. A few that broke the twenty point mark that I kept an eye on.
I mentally compared them to ours, then to the wonderful light show from Aaron and Jeanne, and found them wanting. They weren't bad, just… unpolished. The chatot was off-key. The lillipup had no substance behind its Growl. I didn't know what that fop was talking about; coordinators in Slateport weren't any better than what I'd seen back home. They weren't better than me.
"Normal-rank is normal-rank no matter where we go," I realized. "We can do this, Ember."
"Bus."
I waited with Ember's ball in hand. It was a habit of mine; I always had to be doing something with my fingers, whether that was plucking at the keys or rolling a collapsed pokeball around. Until finally, my number was called.
"Contestant number twenty-three, contestant number twenty-three, please join us backstage," came the voice of one of the assistants.
I still felt nervous. The appeals weren't anything to write home about, but that's what I thought. What if the judges thought that way about me? What if I misplayed? What if I let Ember down?
I took a deep breath and stood. I still felt out of my depth, but I couldn't think like that. I was a coordinator. I deserved to be here. And I'd prove it in the only way I knew how.
"Let's go, Ember."
X
The spotlight was blinding, as if I was staring straight into the sun. I could feel the eyes of the people on me. There had to be a thousand of them! Okay, maybe a few hundred, even a big city like Slateport didn't have many who were interested in a normal-rank contest. Still, in that moment, those few hundred might as well have been everyone in the world. I felt like an unfortunate rattata staring down a seviper.
My knees shook with nerves and I thanked mama for my ankle-length frock that hid the trembling. It was like their stares had real, physical weight. Was someone using Gravity? Pushing me down with Psychic? They may as well have because I was rooted to the spot, standing like an idiot just barely visible at the side of the stage.
"Miss Gates? Miss Gates, please begin your appeal," I heard one of the judges say.
That snapped me out of it. I took a deep breath and forced myself to calm down. The lights were too bright and the crowd was still overwhelming, but this was just one of the side stages in Slateport's contest hall, not even the main one used for the Grand Festival. I couldn't freeze up here; I couldn't afford to.
With a deep exhale, I took a step forward. My right hand swung with the step, brushing against grandma's hurdy gurdy.
My fingers ran along its smooth edges, polished to a gleaming shine with a special finish made from the resin of the Petalburg lacquer tree. It was one of Oldale's first exports when the town was first established. This particular finish had been done by a family friend of grandma's, her own godfather who'd been a master carpenter.
The stings weren't made traditionally from sheep intestine, synthetic substitutes had been available even in grandma's day, but they too were a gift. As was the highest quality spruce rosin our neighbor could make. Everything about this instrument was special, from the keys made of smooth pebbles shaped by my granduncle's golem to the oil given to me by Papa to care for it even in the rain. It was my precious treasure, the proof of everyone's support.
I kept walking until we stood center stage. My own footsteps echoed in my ears; or was that just my blood pumping? I couldn't tell anymore.
I had to perform. This was what I'd wanted for so long. This was what Ember and I worked towards. Who cared if I didn't have a designer dress? So what if I was a country girl? None of them studied their asses off for a sponsorship from the regional professor. None of them received a Hoenn starter.
No, they didn't hold a candle to me and I'd prove it now.
I reached for Ember's pokeball, returned so that no one could boost their pokemon before a match, and steeled my resolve. His pokeball was warm. Was that my imagination? Or was Ember as thrilled as I was?
I took encouragement from my partner and hurled his ball high. "Ember! Let's light it up!"
His ball reached the apex of its arc and erupted with a silvery-white light. Ember took the stage in a small whirlwind of his namesake. We'd practice this entry. A cloud of feather-shaped sparks, our unique blend of Ember and Feather Dance, swirled around him as he crashed down in a controlled ax kick.
"Combusken!" he shouted to the world. It was a jubilant challenge. Some might call it the reckless bravado of a recently evolved fighting type, but I saw a brilliant, blazing confidence I envied. Nothing could dampen his spirits.
He pivoted smoothly as he landed into a crouch and turned the downward momentum into a textbook-perfect leg sweep. Or, I thought he did. It looked great to me; I didn't know the first thing about martial arts. Thankfully, the blaziken line had an instinctive understanding of kicking techniques, almost as refined as hitmonlee. Ember needed very little guidance from me on the physical front.
I was so captivated by Ember's entrance that I almost missed my cue. Quickly, I began to turn the crank and tap at the keys. The hurdy gurdy's wheel rubbed against the drone strings, letting out a pleasant buzz that silenced any in the crowd who were still talking.
Then the melody kicked in. It was my favorite folk song, one grandma used to sing to me before bed when I was a wee lass. She told me it was a ballad that described the Dragon's Lament and the founding of the League. There was a play that was set to this track, narration that broke up the full song, but as much as I loved listening to history myself, I wasn't much of a storyteller.
The song started slow, a sorrowful melody that tried to capture some of the despair the old Draconid elders must have felt. It was almost sluggish in execution, but that slow pace in itself had a way of drawing the listener in.
Ember matched me. This was one of the sections Ember and I had practiced for months but had never managed to get quite right while he was a torchic. Slow melodies were best accompanied by long, languid, sweeping motions, waves of gentle feathers and swaying flames. As a torchic, he simply lacked the long limbs to perform the dance required.
Now that he was a combusken though? He was perfect.
It wasn't just his physiology that changed. With the fighting type came a greater awareness of his own body. More control, more finesse, more intentionality. He moved with the grace of a professional dancer, transitioning from kick to flowing leap with an ease that stupefied the crowd.
Then, as he pirouetted in the air, I subtly shifted my own stance. It was our signal.
The original song was a lengthy, continuous melody meant to be played in the background of a play, a full two hours long production. Not unlike a movie soundtrack from PokeStar Studios in Unova, it had its moments of high intensity action and joyful celebration as well as sections full of tragedy and regret. It was a traditional song that was almost ritualistic in importance, often played at festivals and on important occasions by masterful theater troupes.
And I didn't know how to play all of it. How could I? I was thirteen, not a master with decades of practice. I wasn't grandma.
But I had my favorite sections, tunes that resonated with me: the introduction and sorrow, the Dragon's Lament, the final surrender atop Ever Grande Falls, and the uplifting finale that dared hope for a better future. I'd spliced them all into pieces I could play throughout my contest run. I'd even given my amateurish hand at composing transitions I thought would blend them well.
Rather than speak and disturb the moment, this was what I settled on. By shifting my position, I could signal to Ember that a new transition was coming. Other trainers memorized moves and attack sequences. Ember and I? We memorized transitions and dance patterns.
I shifted and stepped, stomping just a little, subtle enough that virtually everyone else missed it. I began a four-count in my head before streaking my fingers in a complex pattern over the keys, making the melody strings stutter and falter.
The transition wasn't perfect, I wasn't nearly as good at composing as I was at playing, but it did the job. The faster pace of the Dragon's Lament allowed Ember to really kick things up a notch.
Embers shaped like feathers filled the stage as we rapidly reached our crescendo. He couldn't use Blaze Kick to augment his performance yet, but by having him kick through clusters of purposely made feathers, we could sort of replicate the aesthetic.
Then, just as the music reached its zenith, he let out a loud cry and clad himself in a tornado of flame. A Flame Charge-enhanced jump allowed him to crest the whole thing, making the crowd crane their necks to look up at him. Stylized wings of fire reminiscent of a moltres marked our finale.
It'd look even better once he was a blaziken and could learn Brave Bird, but for now, a Quick Attack would have to do. A final streak of white aura sliced through the blazing tornado, dispersing it as Ember hit the ground. My music trailed off into silence.
He rose slowly, a gentleness emphasized by the previous, frantic dance. When we dipped into a flourishing bow, it was to a standing ovation.
I felt a wide smile stretch across my face. I'd done it. I'd played like never before. If this didn't impress the judges, I didn't know what would. With a fat, shit-eating grin on my face, I turned to the judges' table to receive my score.
Nine. Eight. Ten. A total of twenty-seven. I was beaming. It was the highest anyone had received so far. Still, I suppressed my squeal and listened.
"A combusken is normally not seen in the contest circuit," began a nurse. She'd been the one to reward me a ten. Judging by the streak of pink in her hair, she might have been a cousin of the Joy clan. "Not because they are not beautiful or skilled, but because they often prefer to battle. And yet, you and your partner have proven the exception to the rule, Miss Gates. That was splendid, especially for a new evolution."
"Thank you, ma'am," I said with a respectful nod. Mama didn't raise no twerp.
The next to speak was a coordinator who'd retired from the circuit last year and was now working as a judge. He'd been the most critical of me. "To start, excellent job. I think it's safe to say that more than a few people recognized the soundtrack. Striking that balance between familiar and boring can be hard but I think you nailed it with that curious instrument of yours.
"But. You shouldn't have started with the introduction. Enough people recognize the climax so you're not losing anything by skipping the slower bits. If you had a pokemon more suited for that flowy type of dance, then sure. But you don't. You're using a combusken. Coombusken excel at swift, sharp kicks and slashes. The intro was too smooth and a bit slower than it should be.
"Ember was fighting himself not to move too fast. A faster tune with more intentional breaks in the melody for Ember to emphasize his strikes would be better than a slow, mournful one focused on grace and poise. You did a decent job building up to the climax, but I think the beginning could have been shortened a great deal."
"Yes, sir. I'll keep that in mind."
The last to speak gave me a nine. I had no idea who he was. The emcee introduced him, but I'd already forgotten, so caught up in my nerves as I was. "I agree with the previous remarks. Truly remarkable performance, easily the best we've seen today. My only bit of advice is that you should consider minimizing the use of Fire Spin. Your combusken is the star. Moves that obscure him should be avoided. There are ways to add them for climactic finish, but I don't think you've quite managed that seamlessly. Otherwise, the moltres figure at the end needs more work."
Those were two things, but I didn't bother to correct him. Why would I?
I passed!
X
Compared to the excitement of the appeals round, the rest was downright easy. I realized now, standing center stage, that the struggle was all in my head. I'd let the awe and glamor of the big city get to me, let some green-haired fop tell me I wasn't good enough.
Well, I was good enough, and the ribbon that graced Ember's plume proved it.
The battle rounds were anticlimactic. Honestly? Ember looked a little bored up there, kicking around a lillipup and overgrown bouquets. We lost a few points because he was too direct and reliant on his power, but that was just something we'd have to work on.
For such a big city, there didn't seem to be anyone even remotely good enough to give Ember a challenge, at least at the normal-rank. The closest was that Drew guy with his roselia, but Ember literally set her on fire. Was it her fault for having that huge jerk for a trainer? Not really. Did we enjoy ourselves anyway? Yes.
I wasn't sorry.
I looked at the ribbon again and thought of the one that got away. It was funny, but true. Only on my second contest and I already had one of those.
I wondered what Aaron was up to now, him and that ridiculous flaaffy of his. Now they were rivals. I"d been impressed with their light show, just like he'd been impressed with Ember's Feather Dance. Aaron didn't have anything special to add to Jeanne's performance, not like my music, but I was forced to admit he far outstripped me when it came to battle tactics.
And apparently, his kirlia was even stronger.
I wanted to beat him, I realized. This ribbon was nice. It felt great, amazing even. It was the physical validation of everything Ember and I'd worked for, proof that the support I'd received hadn't been wasted.
But… But it just didn't feel complete. Ember was stronger now, but I didn't doubt Jeanne would be too. Hell, it wouldn't surprise me if Aaron spiced things up himself a bit.
I looked out over the crowd, just a small sampling of what I'd see come the Grand Festival. I looked out and felt none of the butterflies I'd felt before. I knew I'd be returning to Slateport at the end of the season. And so would Aaron, no question.
"I'll see you here, rival," I whispered.
X
Sabine "Sparky" Soto
Route 109
I leaned back in my poolside lounge chair, relaxing with most of my pokemon. I wore a pair of sunglasses to blunt the harsh rays of the midday sun. Other than that and sunscreen, all I had on was a yellow, lightning-patterned bikini and a translucent shawl draped over my shoulders.
In my hand was a virgin bloody mary, something the ship's bartender said was popular but really just tasted like celery, clams, and tomato juice to me. The rim of the fancy glass had been coated with lime juice, ground peppers, and some kind of sweet and salty mixture. Why did adults drink this stuff?
The best thing about the drink was the cute umbrella.
I took a sip and made a face but I was determined to finish the drink. I didn't like wasting food, even if it tasted like a clam pooped inside watery tomato sauce. I'd have to go grab a soda pop next time.
Still, gross "big girl drink" aside, the past week had been wonderful. I hadn't realized I'd been rushing my journey until I was forced to relax on the boat ride to Slateport. At the start, when Lucky and I met Artoria and Aaron in my old trainer school tournament, I thought we were behind. How could he already be in Mauville from Mossdeep?
Then more and more trainers flooded into the city for the Dynamo Badge and I pushed Lucky hard so we could grab our badge and move on. I wanted to start from Rustboro, take the traditional route, skipping Mauville obviously. After training for a week and getting ourselves the Dynamo Badge from Leader Wattson, I booked us a commercial teleporter to Rustboro, where Lucky and I battled all comers, both at their famous trainer school managed by Leader Roxanne and in nearby Petalburg Woods.
It was just as well, because had I tried to walk the Rustboro Tunnel from Oldale, I would have gotten caught up in the hydreigon fiasco. Lucky and I were awesome, but we weren't that good.
Yet.
I smiled as I watched Lucky engage in a makeshift sumo contest against someone's poliwrath in the pool. They occupied one of the circular, floating platforms and were gathering some attention. The poliwrath was a new evolution according to his trainer, but its bulging, barrel-chested muscles gave it a clear edge in a strictly physical contest.
That didn't discourage my Lucky though. He was an electabuzz now, a font of boundless energy like myself. He heaved and roared and strained and shoved against the poliwrath, doing his darn best to toss the bigger, stronger pokemon into the water.
He failed. The poliwrath, called Skipper apparently, grabbed Lucky by the armpits and suplexed him headfirst into the drink. Lucky emerged a few moments later, spitting water and looking a whole lot less cuddly with his fur matted to his body.
"You were great, Lucky!" I cheered for him anyway.
"Jask! Ninjask!" Zippy agreed happily. He had a lovely flange to his voice that I liked listening to, like a reverb that was just shy of a song.
He was my second pokemon, a nincada found mid-molt near Rustboro when I took on a job for some quick cash. One of the locals found the little guy and hired a trainer to clear him out of his basement because he was afraid of bugs.
"Eevee! Vee-vee!" Eevee cheered. The wonderful bundle of fluff was nestled between my thighs. Her fur was a little warm and I could already feel myself getting all sweaty there, but she was so luxuriously soft that I couldn't bring myself to chase her off.
I ran my fingers through her fur and scritched just behind the ears in that exact place I knew she liked. With a mewling sigh, she practically turned into a puddle beneath my ministrations.
She and Zippy came as a pair. I cleared out the nincada by catching him, but the eevee, the daughter of the client's uncle's vaporeon apparently, saw Lucky kick butt and chose to come along. It was a near-miraculous stroke of good fortune that she'd been feeling restless as a mere house-pokemon and I just happened to come along with an elekid that could impress her.
I was ridiculously… lucky. Heh.
The second badge had been a struggle. Plenty of Roxanne's pokemon had ground type coverage for Lucky. Zippy just didn't like rock types in general. Eevee, unnamed because she didn't want one until she figured out what she wanted to evolve into, wasn't really great for damaging Roxanne's defensive pokemon either. It really bummed me out when we lost our first attempt, but that just motivated us to try even harder.
"Ax! Axew!" Nibbles cried out. He was probably upset that I wasn't giving him the attention he felt he deserved. He was a dragon after all, an infant perhaps, but a dragon.
I laughed and turned my gaze to him. He occupied another floating platform and faced off against a sailor's starmie. The sailor, on his break shift, assured me that his starmie was especially gentle with younger pokemon, having tutored a few of them over his journey.
As I watched, Nibbles lunged forward with Scratch, only for the starmie to spin? cartwheel? out of the way The starfish pokemon moved far slower than I knew it could. When Nibbles turned the missed Scratch into a sideways swipe of his tusks, the starmie's gem glowed a crimson hue to indicate a hit.
Nibbles' sharp tusk left a tearing wound on the starmie's arm, but it healed over almost immediately as its natural regeneration kicked in. That was one of the main reasons I'd asked for the starmie; so long as the core wasn't damaged, those guys could heal from darn near anything, making them ideal practice partners for an aggressive young dragon.
A retaliatory Water Gun punted Nibbles off the platform, sending him sailing through the air in a beautiful arc and over the heads of several playing pokemon and people. He landed with a splash and surfaced with a dizzy wobble.
"You're doing great, Nibbles!"I called. "Get back up there! Don't be dragon your feet now!"
"Axew!" he cried. It probably sounded like a mighty roar in his head, but half the people on deck cooed at the cuteness overload.
This was play meant to tire out my two most energetic pokemon, but also doubled as excellent training. Not only were they learning to swim, they were learning some valuable lessons. Lucky needed physical challenges if he wanted to become an electivire. Eventually, he'd learn to augment his strength and agility with electricity and the better the baseline he was working from, the stronger he'd be after Motor Drive.
As for Nibbles, I'd read that it was critically important for dragon type pokemon to lose when they were young. Curbing some of their natural arrogance was important for their development if they were to listen to a human trainer. This was doubly true of axew, a species known for wrestling and biting one another during play. By battling a large number of different pokemon, he was learning just how much force was appropriate to use.
Realy, Dewford had been amazing for us in that regard. Not only did I win a raffle for a weeklong cruise to Slateport, Lucky and Zippy evolved and I found Nibbles during my dive into Granite Cave. Compared to all that, my third gym wasn't as interesting. Sure it was a milestone, but it wasn't as nice as multiple evolutions and a dragon to add to my team.
I was lucky. My starter was Lucky. Together, we were double-lucky! Mwahahahaha!
Speaking of my team, Nibbles' opponent shot a weak Ice Beam that chipped his tusk. I put Eevee down and bolted out of my lounge chair.
"Stop!" I called. "Nibbles, starmie, pause!"
I shrugged off my shawl and dove into the water. The chlorine stung my eyes but I could see the tip of Nibbles' tusk sinking to the floor. I reached out and plucked it from the water, being careful so I didn't cut myself on the razor edge. There was a reason people used to use shed tusks as kitchen knives.
I swam back up and broke the surface of the water, flinging my head back to keep my hair from matting around my eyes. "Alright, you guys can go back to slugging it out. Try not to break your tusks anymore, Nibbles, we don't want anyone stepping on the pieces and getting hurt later."
"Axew-ax!" he replied in the affirmative before going right back to wrestling with the starmie.
"What? No! What's wrong with you? Stop them!" someone yelled. She was an older lady, maybe in her thirties. Her face was set in a heavy scowl as she glared at me.
"No? They're having fun, what's wrong with that?"
"Your pokemon just chipped a tooth and you're not even going to check on it?"
"He. Nibbles is male," I corrected absently. "More importantly, he's fine. The axew line is notorious for chipping their teeth. In the wild, they even go out of their way to break their own tusks because their tusks always grow back stronger than before. It's fine."
"You don't know that. Are you a dentist?"
"No, but I am his trainer. It's my job to research the species. So yes, I do in fact know that. Why would a human dentist know anything about axew anyway?"
"It's still not safe," she said, getting heated now. "Just because it happens in the wild doesn't mean it should happen with a trainer!"
She was starting to annoy me. "Hello? What part of 'they grow back stronger,' didn't you understand? Leave Nibbles alone, he's not some pampered skitty that wants to lie around all day."
She huffed and stormed off. I leaned back into my lounge chair and watched my pokemon have fun in their own ways.
Sadly, I didn't get to relax too much before someone commented next to me. "You know a fair bit about axew, little missy."
I suppressed a groan. Was it too much to let a gal relax and drink her clammy tomato-water? Turning, I found that the lounge chair next to me was now occupied by a shirtless old man.
He was extremely well-built, with muscles like granite and a large, snow-white mustache that curled around his face into thick mutton chops. In his hand was an entire bottle of a rich, amber-colored rum, not that I knew what one of those tasted like. At his side was a sailor's cap nestled atop a blue and black coat. Laid out next to them were a set of six pokeballs, each worn and scratched from decades of use.
This, this was a veteran. Now that I looked closer, his body wasn't free of scars. A line of gouged flesh marked his weather-beaten cheek. There was a clean line that wrapped around his bicep, as if something supernaturally sharp had sliced his arm clean through like tofu.
He caught me looking at his arm. "Scyther," he said with a twitch of his mustache. "Ornery fucker. Ripped my arm clean off with one swipe. I had to pick it up and go get it reattached. Would've died of blood loss if there wasn't a medic so close by. Still took a few months before I could use the arm again."
I gulped. It wasn't often I saw just how dangerous my profession could be. The routes were largely safe so stories like that didn't crop up often. It reinforced just how ancient this old-timer really was.
"O-Oh…"
"My salamence ate it alive for that though, so I guess fair's fair."
"Oh… Umm… I guess you're not too bugged by that then," I said weakly. I wasn't sure what to say to that. What did scyther taste like anyway? Crunchy? Maybe like crab? Did ancient tribes boil them? Or evolve them to scizor so they could have claws instead? Was that more or less meat?
I shook my head to dispel my ramblings. I hated how weird my brain could get sometimes.
"Heh. You're right about axew, lass," he continued, heedless of my internal tangent. "If you listened to the old biddy and stopped your axew, the little fella would've lost some respect for you. And that's a dangerous thing for a trainer to be, disrespected by a dragon."
"Y-Yeah, that's what I read. You said you had a salamence, mister?"
"Aye."
"How do you go about teaching Dragon Dance?" I asked. I figured I may as well take advantage of the obvious veteran.
Dragon Dance was the bread and butter of powerful dragon pokemon, one of the best supporting moves a pokemon could know. It took the already impressive power and speed of a dragon and knocked them out of the park, turning an apex predator into an overwhelming engine of destruction.
According to the few PLO forums I managed to find, it was also something of an informal badge of honor, proof that the dragon trainer was able to fully control their dragon.
Moves like Outrage and Dragon Claw would come with time and maturity, simple instinct would teach Nibbles as well as any TM. But Dragon Dance? It required finesse, careful control of draconic energy within the body. It required patience and discipline. Sitting around while the enemy was right in front of them just didn't come naturally for dragons.
"Nope," he said, shaking his head. "Your little hatchling isn't ready. In fact, you shouldn't be shooting for dragon type energy at all."
"What do you mean, mister?"
"Oh, he's cute now, but that little fella is going to grow up to be a monster. All dragons do in their own way. Power will come in time. You gotta teach him control. Discipline."
"Isn't that what Dragon Dance does?"
"Aye, but think slower. You're not ready for that yet. You can work on it when he's a fraxure."
"Oh, then what should Nibbles be working on?"
"A more intimidating name than 'Nibbles' for starters," he grunted.
I pouted at him and he snorted dismissively. Jerk. "Nibbles is a fine name. You watch. Nibbles the haxorus is going to dominate the Ever Grande Conference."
"Is he now?"
"Yeah!"
"Well you'll want to start with False Swipe. A haxorus is a giant ax with legs. An ax ought to cut only when its master demands, kid."
"How do I do that?"
He grumbled in irritation for a minute. Then he stood and made to head back inside. Reaching into his coat, he pulled out a business card and tossed it over his shoulder. "Send me your information, kid. I'll see about giving you a few pointers if I can figure out how them newfangled computers work."
I fumbled the card and it almost flew into the pool. By the time I looked back, he was gone. He was a grouchy geezer, but I'd take good advice no matter where it came from. I turned the card over and gasped.
It lacked a job title or place of work, or really any identifying features beyond an email and his name: Drake Genji.
Drake. Genji.
"Holy crap… Lucky…"
Author's Note
This commission idea was presented to me over a month ago, but I wanted to hold off on it until after Norman. I finished putting the final touches on it so you can have this.
One of my commissioners wanted me to catch up with some of the side characters we've met so far. There's Drew, Chaz, and of course Lisia, but they'll show up in time. Maybe one of the other ten trainers who received psychic types from Sharon. Hell, I might introduce Wally at some point. It's not like his starter's a secret or anything.
Remember in the beginning of the story when Aaron was given the chance to pick a Hoenn starter? And he refused? Guess who got his torchic?
Onale has some self-esteem issues that can develop into a hefty dose of imposter syndrome. She's a farm girl who was picked out as one of the professor's saplings, the best in the region, only to find out that actually, she was number four, sorry.
Sabine is showing off that protagonist mojo. Best student in Mauville? Check. Wattson's favorite elekid for a starter? Check. Coincidental eevee? Check. A dragon type before her fourth badge? Check. Random encounter with a relevant master? Also check. Aaron isn't the only one who's seemingly blessed with supernaturally good fortune.
No shade on bloody marys. Those things are amazing when made right. Virgin cocktails though? They can all burn. But hey, at least Sabine's not developing a habit.
Now, here's a random fact about my current place of residence. DC residents drink more wine per capita than any other US state.
Insert something something pat-re-on…
- Ember (Combusken)
Sabine's Pokemon
- Lucky (Electabuzz)
- Zippy (Ninjask)
- Unnamed (Eevee)
- Nibbles (Axew)
Interlude 4.8.5: Onale Gates & Sabine Soto
Onale Gates
Slateport City
I made my way towards the Slateport contest hall with a confident stride. Mama always said confidence was the secret to success. People will only believe in you if you believe in yourself.
I'd always found that harder than it sounded. Believe in myself? Why? There wasn't anything impressive about me. I was just some farm girl with a strange instrument that hardly anyone played anymore. Take away grandma's hurdy gurdy and I was… just plain Onale.
"Combus," Ember crooned beside me. He marched in lockstep with me and noticed when I lagged behind.
"Thanks, Em," I said with a smile. I straightened my spine and continued forward. Maybe I could believe in my team instead? Mama said they'd be like family and what kinda gal would I be if I didn't believe in family?
I walked inside to register for the normal-rank contest. I stuck out like a sore thumb. I wore the same outfit I had in Oldale, a village girl's frock painstakingly stitched from faded red cloth, a milky white apron, and mama's shawl she'd embroidered with little flames and music notes just for Ember and I.
I was sorely underdressed. I saw people in cocktail dresses and evening gowns, bespoke suits and faux-military blazers. Heck, there was even one man in a pirate outfit with a chatot on his shoulder, eyepatch included.
Slateport wasn't Oldale. They may both be normal-rank contests, but Slateport was the big city, with lights and sound systems and a big stage and more than a hundred times the population. This contest wouldn't be held in a barn, but in the very same building as the Grand Festival. This was nothing like the one in my hometown.
'That you lost,' an accusatory voice echoed.
I winced at the thought. Yeah, I'd lost a hometown contest, one where most everyone knew me. But so what? Ember evolved for me. For us. He evolved so today would be different. We were better. My song was more polished. Ember's dance was smoother. We'd win here because we lost in Oldale.
With that determined mindset, I found myself a seat in the waiting hall. Ember leaned against the wall next to me, eyes closed and seemingly asleep. I knew better; he was always alert and ready for a scrap, especially now that he was a fighting type.
Having him by my side was a huge relief. If I felt underdressed and outclassed by the trainers in the room, he must have made the other pokemon feel the same way. I saw lillipup, marill, snubbull, and a roselia. Its trainer was a green-haired boy in a violet jacket and teal trousers, stylish I supposed, if in a very "high fashion" sort of way. He caught me looking and approached. He had nice hair, forest green like his roselia.
He looked at Ember, then at me. "Sapling?"
"Busken!" Ember answered for me, the orange feathers of his crown igniting with his cheerful cry.
I let the warmth stoke my confidence. "Yup. Onale Gates, what's your name?"
"Drew Greenwald," he replied with a confident smile. He flipped his hair back with a toss of his neck like a shampoo model; I didn't know anyone did that in real life. Though to be fair, he did look like he could be a male model. "Roselia and I will be taking the ribbon."
"Will you? This isn't my first contest."
"Yeah? How many ribbons do you have?"
"None, but so what? Our show is better than ever. How many ribbons do you have?"
"T-That's not your business," he said hastily. "Roselia and I will wow the judges; that's all that matters."
I may be a country girl, but I could read between the lines. "You don't have a ribbon either, do you? So stop acting like you're all that."
"All that? Girl, we are 'all that.' Roselia and I almost won our contest in Verdanturf. The only reason we lost was because some girl who's been around for three years in Indigo and Sinnoh decided to come do her contest tour here. She's probably already up in super-ranks already so there's no one to stop us from winning anymore."
I frowned. Those weren't common, but they weren't unheard of either. Coordinators didn't tend to hop around regions like battlers, but there were always a few that sought a new stage. "Well I guess I'll just have to tell her you said hi at the Grand Festival. The Oldale Contest wasn't easy pickings either."
"Oldale?" Drew scoffed. He looked me up and down and muttered, "No wonder."
I felt a growl at the back of my throat. Oldale was out of the way, but damn it, it was my hometown! "And what does that mean?"
"You look like an inelegant country bumpkin and your instrument belongs in a museum. Really, when's the last time anyone's played one of those? The Fragmentation Era?"
"Yeah? What the hell do you know? You're a prissy fop who probably spends more time on his hair than actually training his pokemon. I bet your hair will go up in flames from all that mousse if you come any closer, jerk."
"Oh, please. Sweetheart, this is Slateport, not some back-country hick town like Oldale. You're not going to impress the judges with a cute song and a twirl. A real coordinator needs pizzazz! Style! You know, you could stand to learn from me," he said with a smarmy smile.
"Like hell. What would I learn from you, Mr. Ribbonless?" I snorted. I wanted to punch that smug smirk off his face. If I didn't leave, Ember looked like he'd do it for me and I couldn't get disqualified. "Come on, Ember. Let's go find some clean air, without enough mousse to start a gas fire."
I stormed off, already having made a spectacle of myself. Tears stung at my eyes but I forced them down. I knew I'd meet people like that. Hell, my friends and neighbors told me so too. Oldale wasn't a big city. I didn't come from money or a legacy. But becoming Grand Coordinator was my dream, one I shared with Ember.
I didn't have any sparkly dresses or the haute couture brands that people obsessed over. I wore a medieval frock because I wanted to represent my town and the people who supported me. So what if I didn't win the hometown contest? I'd be more insulted if they forced Aaron to lose!
"Combus…" Ember crooned by my side, his clawed, feathered hand warm in mine.
"None of that matters," I told him. "Whatever that fop says doesn't matter. We just have to go up there and show these cityfolk what good music and dance looks like."
"Combusken."
The two of us watched as each coordinator went up to perform. Each appeals round helped me relax a bit. Fifteen points. Ten. Sixteen. Twelve. A few that broke the twenty point mark that I kept an eye on.
I mentally compared them to ours, then to the wonderful light show from Aaron and Jeanne, and found them wanting. They weren't bad, just… unpolished. The chatot was off-key. The lillipup had no substance behind its Growl. I didn't know what that fop was talking about; coordinators in Slateport weren't any better than what I'd seen back home. They weren't better than me.
"Normal-rank is normal-rank no matter where we go," I realized. "We can do this, Ember."
"Bus."
I waited with Ember's ball in hand. It was a habit of mine; I always had to be doing something with my fingers, whether that was plucking at the keys or rolling a collapsed pokeball around. Until finally, my number was called.
"Contestant number twenty-three, contestant number twenty-three, please join us backstage," came the voice of one of the assistants.
I still felt nervous. The appeals weren't anything to write home about, but that's what I thought. What if the judges thought that way about me? What if I misplayed? What if I let Ember down?
I took a deep breath and stood. I still felt out of my depth, but I couldn't think like that. I was a coordinator. I deserved to be here. And I'd prove it in the only way I knew how.
"Let's go, Ember."
X
The spotlight was blinding, as if I was staring straight into the sun. I could feel the eyes of the people on me. There had to be a thousand of them! Okay, maybe a few hundred, even a big city like Slateport didn't have many who were interested in a normal-rank contest. Still, in that moment, those few hundred might as well have been everyone in the world. I felt like an unfortunate rattata staring down a seviper.
My knees shook with nerves and I thanked mama for my ankle-length frock that hid the trembling. It was like their stares had real, physical weight. Was someone using Gravity? Pushing me down with Psychic? They may as well have because I was rooted to the spot, standing like an idiot just barely visible at the side of the stage.
"Miss Gates? Miss Gates, please begin your appeal," I heard one of the judges say.
That snapped me out of it. I took a deep breath and forced myself to calm down. The lights were too bright and the crowd was still overwhelming, but this was just one of the side stages in Slateport's contest hall, not even the main one used for the Grand Festival. I couldn't freeze up here; I couldn't afford to.
With a deep exhale, I took a step forward. My right hand swung with the step, brushing against grandma's hurdy gurdy.
My fingers ran along its smooth edges, polished to a gleaming shine with a special finish made from the resin of the Petalburg lacquer tree. It was one of Oldale's first exports when the town was first established. This particular finish had been done by a family friend of grandma's, her own godfather who'd been a master carpenter.
The stings weren't made traditionally from sheep intestine, synthetic substitutes had been available even in grandma's day, but they too were a gift. As was the highest quality spruce rosin our neighbor could make. Everything about this instrument was special, from the keys made of smooth pebbles shaped by my granduncle's golem to the oil given to me by Papa to care for it even in the rain. It was my precious treasure, the proof of everyone's support.
I kept walking until we stood center stage. My own footsteps echoed in my ears; or was that just my blood pumping? I couldn't tell anymore.
I had to perform. This was what I'd wanted for so long. This was what Ember and I worked towards. Who cared if I didn't have a designer dress? So what if I was a country girl? None of them studied their asses off for a sponsorship from the regional professor. None of them received a Hoenn starter.
No, they didn't hold a candle to me and I'd prove it now.
I reached for Ember's pokeball, returned so that no one could boost their pokemon before a match, and steeled my resolve. His pokeball was warm. Was that my imagination? Or was Ember as thrilled as I was?
I took encouragement from my partner and hurled his ball high. "Ember! Let's light it up!"
His ball reached the apex of its arc and erupted with a silvery-white light. Ember took the stage in a small whirlwind of his namesake. We'd practice this entry. A cloud of feather-shaped sparks, our unique blend of Ember and Feather Dance, swirled around him as he crashed down in a controlled ax kick.
"Combusken!" he shouted to the world. It was a jubilant challenge. Some might call it the reckless bravado of a recently evolved fighting type, but I saw a brilliant, blazing confidence I envied. Nothing could dampen his spirits.
He pivoted smoothly as he landed into a crouch and turned the downward momentum into a textbook-perfect leg sweep. Or, I thought he did. It looked great to me; I didn't know the first thing about martial arts. Thankfully, the blaziken line had an instinctive understanding of kicking techniques, almost as refined as hitmonlee. Ember needed very little guidance from me on the physical front.
I was so captivated by Ember's entrance that I almost missed my cue. Quickly, I began to turn the crank and tap at the keys. The hurdy gurdy's wheel rubbed against the drone strings, letting out a pleasant buzz that silenced any in the crowd who were still talking.
Then the melody kicked in. It was my favorite folk song, one grandma used to sing to me before bed when I was a wee lass. She told me it was a ballad that described the Dragon's Lament and the founding of the League. There was a play that was set to this track, narration that broke up the full song, but as much as I loved listening to history myself, I wasn't much of a storyteller.
The song started slow, a sorrowful melody that tried to capture some of the despair the old Draconid elders must have felt. It was almost sluggish in execution, but that slow pace in itself had a way of drawing the listener in.
Ember matched me. This was one of the sections Ember and I had practiced for months but had never managed to get quite right while he was a torchic. Slow melodies were best accompanied by long, languid, sweeping motions, waves of gentle feathers and swaying flames. As a torchic, he simply lacked the long limbs to perform the dance required.
Now that he was a combusken though? He was perfect.
It wasn't just his physiology that changed. With the fighting type came a greater awareness of his own body. More control, more finesse, more intentionality. He moved with the grace of a professional dancer, transitioning from kick to flowing leap with an ease that stupefied the crowd.
Then, as he pirouetted in the air, I subtly shifted my own stance. It was our signal.
The original song was a lengthy, continuous melody meant to be played in the background of a play, a full two hours long production. Not unlike a movie soundtrack from PokeStar Studios in Unova, it had its moments of high intensity action and joyful celebration as well as sections full of tragedy and regret. It was a traditional song that was almost ritualistic in importance, often played at festivals and on important occasions by masterful theater troupes.
And I didn't know how to play all of it. How could I? I was thirteen, not a master with decades of practice. I wasn't grandma.
But I had my favorite sections, tunes that resonated with me: the introduction and sorrow, the Dragon's Lament, the final surrender atop Ever Grande Falls, and the uplifting finale that dared hope for a better future. I'd spliced them all into pieces I could play throughout my contest run. I'd even given my amateurish hand at composing transitions I thought would blend them well.
Rather than speak and disturb the moment, this was what I settled on. By shifting my position, I could signal to Ember that a new transition was coming. Other trainers memorized moves and attack sequences. Ember and I? We memorized transitions and dance patterns.
I shifted and stepped, stomping just a little, subtle enough that virtually everyone else missed it. I began a four-count in my head before streaking my fingers in a complex pattern over the keys, making the melody strings stutter and falter.
The transition wasn't perfect, I wasn't nearly as good at composing as I was at playing, but it did the job. The faster pace of the Dragon's Lament allowed Ember to really kick things up a notch.
Embers shaped like feathers filled the stage as we rapidly reached our crescendo. He couldn't use Blaze Kick to augment his performance yet, but by having him kick through clusters of purposely made feathers, we could sort of replicate the aesthetic.
Then, just as the music reached its zenith, he let out a loud cry and clad himself in a tornado of flame. A Flame Charge-enhanced jump allowed him to crest the whole thing, making the crowd crane their necks to look up at him. Stylized wings of fire reminiscent of a moltres marked our finale.
It'd look even better once he was a blaziken and could learn Brave Bird, but for now, a Quick Attack would have to do. A final streak of white aura sliced through the blazing tornado, dispersing it as Ember hit the ground. My music trailed off into silence.
He rose slowly, a gentleness emphasized by the previous, frantic dance. When we dipped into a flourishing bow, it was to a standing ovation.
I felt a wide smile stretch across my face. I'd done it. I'd played like never before. If this didn't impress the judges, I didn't know what would. With a fat, shit-eating grin on my face, I turned to the judges' table to receive my score.
Nine. Eight. Ten. A total of twenty-seven. I was beaming. It was the highest anyone had received so far. Still, I suppressed my squeal and listened.
"A combusken is normally not seen in the contest circuit," began a nurse. She'd been the one to reward me a ten. Judging by the streak of pink in her hair, she might have been a cousin of the Joy clan. "Not because they are not beautiful or skilled, but because they often prefer to battle. And yet, you and your partner have proven the exception to the rule, Miss Gates. That was splendid, especially for a new evolution."
"Thank you, ma'am," I said with a respectful nod. Mama didn't raise no twerp.
The next to speak was a coordinator who'd retired from the circuit last year and was now working as a judge. He'd been the most critical of me. "To start, excellent job. I think it's safe to say that more than a few people recognized the soundtrack. Striking that balance between familiar and boring can be hard but I think you nailed it with that curious instrument of yours.
"But. You shouldn't have started with the introduction. Enough people recognize the climax so you're not losing anything by skipping the slower bits. If you had a pokemon more suited for that flowy type of dance, then sure. But you don't. You're using a combusken. Coombusken excel at swift, sharp kicks and slashes. The intro was too smooth and a bit slower than it should be.
"Ember was fighting himself not to move too fast. A faster tune with more intentional breaks in the melody for Ember to emphasize his strikes would be better than a slow, mournful one focused on grace and poise. You did a decent job building up to the climax, but I think the beginning could have been shortened a great deal."
"Yes, sir. I'll keep that in mind."
The last to speak gave me a nine. I had no idea who he was. The emcee introduced him, but I'd already forgotten, so caught up in my nerves as I was. "I agree with the previous remarks. Truly remarkable performance, easily the best we've seen today. My only bit of advice is that you should consider minimizing the use of Fire Spin. Your combusken is the star. Moves that obscure him should be avoided. There are ways to add them for climactic finish, but I don't think you've quite managed that seamlessly. Otherwise, the moltres figure at the end needs more work."
Those were two things, but I didn't bother to correct him. Why would I?
I passed!
X
Compared to the excitement of the appeals round, the rest was downright easy. I realized now, standing center stage, that the struggle was all in my head. I'd let the awe and glamor of the big city get to me, let some green-haired fop tell me I wasn't good enough.
Well, I was good enough, and the ribbon that graced Ember's plume proved it.
The battle rounds were anticlimactic. Honestly? Ember looked a little bored up there, kicking around a lillipup and overgrown bouquets. We lost a few points because he was too direct and reliant on his power, but that was just something we'd have to work on.
For such a big city, there didn't seem to be anyone even remotely good enough to give Ember a challenge, at least at the normal-rank. The closest was that Drew guy with his roselia, but Ember literally set her on fire. Was it her fault for having that huge jerk for a trainer? Not really. Did we enjoy ourselves anyway? Yes.
I wasn't sorry.
I looked at the ribbon again and thought of the one that got away. It was funny, but true. Only on my second contest and I already had one of those.
I wondered what Aaron was up to now, him and that ridiculous flaaffy of his. Now they were rivals. I"d been impressed with their light show, just like he'd been impressed with Ember's Feather Dance. Aaron didn't have anything special to add to Jeanne's performance, not like my music, but I was forced to admit he far outstripped me when it came to battle tactics.
And apparently, his kirlia was even stronger.
I wanted to beat him, I realized. This ribbon was nice. It felt great, amazing even. It was the physical validation of everything Ember and I'd worked for, proof that the support I'd received hadn't been wasted.
But… But it just didn't feel complete. Ember was stronger now, but I didn't doubt Jeanne would be too. Hell, it wouldn't surprise me if Aaron spiced things up himself a bit.
I looked out over the crowd, just a small sampling of what I'd see come the Grand Festival. I looked out and felt none of the butterflies I'd felt before. I knew I'd be returning to Slateport at the end of the season. And so would Aaron, no question.
"I'll see you here, rival," I whispered.
X
Sabine "Sparky" Soto
Route 109
I leaned back in my poolside lounge chair, relaxing with most of my pokemon. I wore a pair of sunglasses to blunt the harsh rays of the midday sun. Other than that and sunscreen, all I had on was a yellow, lightning-patterned bikini and a translucent shawl draped over my shoulders.
In my hand was a virgin bloody mary, something the ship's bartender said was popular but really just tasted like celery, clams, and tomato juice to me. The rim of the fancy glass had been coated with lime juice, ground peppers, and some kind of sweet and salty mixture. Why did adults drink this stuff?
The best thing about the drink was the cute umbrella.
I took a sip and made a face but I was determined to finish the drink. I didn't like wasting food, even if it tasted like a clam pooped inside watery tomato sauce. I'd have to go grab a soda pop next time.
Still, gross "big girl drink" aside, the past week had been wonderful. I hadn't realized I'd been rushing my journey until I was forced to relax on the boat ride to Slateport. At the start, when Lucky and I met Artoria and Aaron in my old trainer school tournament, I thought we were behind. How could he already be in Mauville from Mossdeep?
Then more and more trainers flooded into the city for the Dynamo Badge and I pushed Lucky hard so we could grab our badge and move on. I wanted to start from Rustboro, take the traditional route, skipping Mauville obviously. After training for a week and getting ourselves the Dynamo Badge from Leader Wattson, I booked us a commercial teleporter to Rustboro, where Lucky and I battled all comers, both at their famous trainer school managed by Leader Roxanne and in nearby Petalburg Woods.
It was just as well, because had I tried to walk the Rustboro Tunnel from Oldale, I would have gotten caught up in the hydreigon fiasco. Lucky and I were awesome, but we weren't that good.
Yet.
I smiled as I watched Lucky engage in a makeshift sumo contest against someone's poliwrath in the pool. They occupied one of the circular, floating platforms and were gathering some attention. The poliwrath was a new evolution according to his trainer, but its bulging, barrel-chested muscles gave it a clear edge in a strictly physical contest.
That didn't discourage my Lucky though. He was an electabuzz now, a font of boundless energy like myself. He heaved and roared and strained and shoved against the poliwrath, doing his darn best to toss the bigger, stronger pokemon into the water.
He failed. The poliwrath, called Skipper apparently, grabbed Lucky by the armpits and suplexed him headfirst into the drink. Lucky emerged a few moments later, spitting water and looking a whole lot less cuddly with his fur matted to his body.
"You were great, Lucky!" I cheered for him anyway.
"Jask! Ninjask!" Zippy agreed happily. He had a lovely flange to his voice that I liked listening to, like a reverb that was just shy of a song.
He was my second pokemon, a nincada found mid-molt near Rustboro when I took on a job for some quick cash. One of the locals found the little guy and hired a trainer to clear him out of his basement because he was afraid of bugs.
"Eevee! Vee-vee!" Eevee cheered. The wonderful bundle of fluff was nestled between my thighs. Her fur was a little warm and I could already feel myself getting all sweaty there, but she was so luxuriously soft that I couldn't bring myself to chase her off.
I ran my fingers through her fur and scritched just behind the ears in that exact place I knew she liked. With a mewling sigh, she practically turned into a puddle beneath my ministrations.
She and Zippy came as a pair. I cleared out the nincada by catching him, but the eevee, the daughter of the client's uncle's vaporeon apparently, saw Lucky kick butt and chose to come along. It was a near-miraculous stroke of good fortune that she'd been feeling restless as a mere house-pokemon and I just happened to come along with an elekid that could impress her.
I was ridiculously… lucky. Heh.
The second badge had been a struggle. Plenty of Roxanne's pokemon had ground type coverage for Lucky. Zippy just didn't like rock types in general. Eevee, unnamed because she didn't want one until she figured out what she wanted to evolve into, wasn't really great for damaging Roxanne's defensive pokemon either. It really bummed me out when we lost our first attempt, but that just motivated us to try even harder.
"Ax! Axew!" Nibbles cried out. He was probably upset that I wasn't giving him the attention he felt he deserved. He was a dragon after all, an infant perhaps, but a dragon.
I laughed and turned my gaze to him. He occupied another floating platform and faced off against a sailor's starmie. The sailor, on his break shift, assured me that his starmie was especially gentle with younger pokemon, having tutored a few of them over his journey.
As I watched, Nibbles lunged forward with Scratch, only for the starmie to spin? cartwheel? out of the way The starfish pokemon moved far slower than I knew it could. When Nibbles turned the missed Scratch into a sideways swipe of his tusks, the starmie's gem glowed a crimson hue to indicate a hit.
Nibbles' sharp tusk left a tearing wound on the starmie's arm, but it healed over almost immediately as its natural regeneration kicked in. That was one of the main reasons I'd asked for the starmie; so long as the core wasn't damaged, those guys could heal from darn near anything, making them ideal practice partners for an aggressive young dragon.
A retaliatory Water Gun punted Nibbles off the platform, sending him sailing through the air in a beautiful arc and over the heads of several playing pokemon and people. He landed with a splash and surfaced with a dizzy wobble.
"You're doing great, Nibbles!"I called. "Get back up there! Don't be dragon your feet now!"
"Axew!" he cried. It probably sounded like a mighty roar in his head, but half the people on deck cooed at the cuteness overload.
This was play meant to tire out my two most energetic pokemon, but also doubled as excellent training. Not only were they learning to swim, they were learning some valuable lessons. Lucky needed physical challenges if he wanted to become an electivire. Eventually, he'd learn to augment his strength and agility with electricity and the better the baseline he was working from, the stronger he'd be after Motor Drive.
As for Nibbles, I'd read that it was critically important for dragon type pokemon to lose when they were young. Curbing some of their natural arrogance was important for their development if they were to listen to a human trainer. This was doubly true of axew, a species known for wrestling and biting one another during play. By battling a large number of different pokemon, he was learning just how much force was appropriate to use.
Realy, Dewford had been amazing for us in that regard. Not only did I win a raffle for a weeklong cruise to Slateport, Lucky and Zippy evolved and I found Nibbles during my dive into Granite Cave. Compared to all that, my third gym wasn't as interesting. Sure it was a milestone, but it wasn't as nice as multiple evolutions and a dragon to add to my team.
I was lucky. My starter was Lucky. Together, we were double-lucky! Mwahahahaha!
Speaking of my team, Nibbles' opponent shot a weak Ice Beam that chipped his tusk. I put Eevee down and bolted out of my lounge chair.
"Stop!" I called. "Nibbles, starmie, pause!"
I shrugged off my shawl and dove into the water. The chlorine stung my eyes but I could see the tip of Nibbles' tusk sinking to the floor. I reached out and plucked it from the water, being careful so I didn't cut myself on the razor edge. There was a reason people used to use shed tusks as kitchen knives.
I swam back up and broke the surface of the water, flinging my head back to keep my hair from matting around my eyes. "Alright, you guys can go back to slugging it out. Try not to break your tusks anymore, Nibbles, we don't want anyone stepping on the pieces and getting hurt later."
"Axew-ax!" he replied in the affirmative before going right back to wrestling with the starmie.
"What? No! What's wrong with you? Stop them!" someone yelled. She was an older lady, maybe in her thirties. Her face was set in a heavy scowl as she glared at me.
"No? They're having fun, what's wrong with that?"
"Your pokemon just chipped a tooth and you're not even going to check on it?"
"He. Nibbles is male," I corrected absently. "More importantly, he's fine. The axew line is notorious for chipping their teeth. In the wild, they even go out of their way to break their own tusks because their tusks always grow back stronger than before. It's fine."
"You don't know that. Are you a dentist?"
"No, but I am his trainer. It's my job to research the species. So yes, I do in fact know that. Why would a human dentist know anything about axew anyway?"
"It's still not safe," she said, getting heated now. "Just because it happens in the wild doesn't mean it should happen with a trainer!"
She was starting to annoy me. "Hello? What part of 'they grow back stronger,' didn't you understand? Leave Nibbles alone, he's not some pampered skitty that wants to lie around all day."
She huffed and stormed off. I leaned back into my lounge chair and watched my pokemon have fun in their own ways.
Sadly, I didn't get to relax too much before someone commented next to me. "You know a fair bit about axew, little missy."
I suppressed a groan. Was it too much to let a gal relax and drink her clammy tomato-water? Turning, I found that the lounge chair next to me was now occupied by a shirtless old man.
He was extremely well-built, with muscles like granite and a large, snow-white mustache that curled around his face into thick mutton chops. In his hand was an entire bottle of a rich, amber-colored rum, not that I knew what one of those tasted like. At his side was a sailor's cap nestled atop a blue and black coat. Laid out next to them were a set of six pokeballs, each worn and scratched from decades of use.
This, this was a veteran. Now that I looked closer, his body wasn't free of scars. A line of gouged flesh marked his weather-beaten cheek. There was a clean line that wrapped around his bicep, as if something supernaturally sharp had sliced his arm clean through like tofu.
He caught me looking at his arm. "Scyther," he said with a twitch of his mustache. "Ornery fucker. Ripped my arm clean off with one swipe. I had to pick it up and go get it reattached. Would've died of blood loss if there wasn't a medic so close by. Still took a few months before I could use the arm again."
I gulped. It wasn't often I saw just how dangerous my profession could be. The routes were largely safe so stories like that didn't crop up often. It reinforced just how ancient this old-timer really was.
"O-Oh…"
"My salamence ate it alive for that though, so I guess fair's fair."
"Oh… Umm… I guess you're not too bugged by that then," I said weakly. I wasn't sure what to say to that. What did scyther taste like anyway? Crunchy? Maybe like crab? Did ancient tribes boil them? Or evolve them to scizor so they could have claws instead? Was that more or less meat?
I shook my head to dispel my ramblings. I hated how weird my brain could get sometimes.
"Heh. You're right about axew, lass," he continued, heedless of my internal tangent. "If you listened to the old biddy and stopped your axew, the little fella would've lost some respect for you. And that's a dangerous thing for a trainer to be, disrespected by a dragon."
"Y-Yeah, that's what I read. You said you had a salamence, mister?"
"Aye."
"How do you go about teaching Dragon Dance?" I asked. I figured I may as well take advantage of the obvious veteran.
Dragon Dance was the bread and butter of powerful dragon pokemon, one of the best supporting moves a pokemon could know. It took the already impressive power and speed of a dragon and knocked them out of the park, turning an apex predator into an overwhelming engine of destruction.
According to the few PLO forums I managed to find, it was also something of an informal badge of honor, proof that the dragon trainer was able to fully control their dragon.
Moves like Outrage and Dragon Claw would come with time and maturity, simple instinct would teach Nibbles as well as any TM. But Dragon Dance? It required finesse, careful control of draconic energy within the body. It required patience and discipline. Sitting around while the enemy was right in front of them just didn't come naturally for dragons.
"Nope," he said, shaking his head. "Your little hatchling isn't ready. In fact, you shouldn't be shooting for dragon type energy at all."
"What do you mean, mister?"
"Oh, he's cute now, but that little fella is going to grow up to be a monster. All dragons do in their own way. Power will come in time. You gotta teach him control. Discipline."
"Isn't that what Dragon Dance does?"
"Aye, but think slower. You're not ready for that yet. You can work on it when he's a fraxure."
"Oh, then what should Nibbles be working on?"
"A more intimidating name than 'Nibbles' for starters," he grunted.
I pouted at him and he snorted dismissively. Jerk. "Nibbles is a fine name. You watch. Nibbles the haxorus is going to dominate the Ever Grande Conference."
"Is he now?"
"Yeah!"
"Well you'll want to start with False Swipe. A haxorus is a giant ax with legs. An ax ought to cut only when its master demands, kid."
"How do I do that?"
He grumbled in irritation for a minute. Then he stood and made to head back inside. Reaching into his coat, he pulled out a business card and tossed it over his shoulder. "Send me your information, kid. I'll see about giving you a few pointers if I can figure out how them newfangled computers work."
I fumbled the card and it almost flew into the pool. By the time I looked back, he was gone. He was a grouchy geezer, but I'd take good advice no matter where it came from. I turned the card over and gasped.
It lacked a job title or place of work, or really any identifying features beyond an email and his name: Drake Genji.
Drake. Genji.
"Holy crap… Lucky…"
Author's Note
This commission idea was presented to me over a month ago, but I wanted to hold off on it until after Norman. I finished putting the final touches on it so you can have this.
One of my commissioners wanted me to catch up with some of the side characters we've met so far. There's Drew, Chaz, and of course Lisia, but they'll show up in time. Maybe one of the other ten trainers who received psychic types from Sharon. Hell, I might introduce Wally at some point. It's not like his starter's a secret or anything.
Remember in the beginning of the story when Aaron was given the chance to pick a Hoenn starter? And he refused? Guess who got his torchic?
Onale has some self-esteem issues that can develop into a hefty dose of imposter syndrome. She's a farm girl who was picked out as one of the professor's saplings, the best in the region, only to find out that actually, she was number four, sorry.
Sabine is showing off that protagonist mojo. Best student in Mauville? Check. Wattson's favorite elekid for a starter? Check. Coincidental eevee? Check. A dragon type before her fourth badge? Check. Random encounter with a relevant master? Also check. Aaron isn't the only one who's seemingly blessed with supernaturally good fortune.
No shade on bloody marys. Those things are amazing when made right. Virgin cocktails though? They can all burn. But hey, at least Sabine's not developing a habit.
Now, here's a random fact about my current place of residence. DC residents drink more wine per capita than any other US state.
Insert something something pat-re-on…
JmonsterNEO
Spouter of nonsense
- Location
- The quest forums
Given the genetic capabilities of the species, that sentence is likely more literal than most would imagine.
Norr
Misophist
- Location
- Any chair
And now you've made me imagine an Eevee with Acid Armor as some sort of furry brown Ditto. I don't know if I should thank you or curse you.
JmonsterNEO
Spouter of nonsense
- Location
- The quest forums
I was thinking something more along the lines of the 'liquid vaporeon' gif, except with an Eevee.And now you've made me imagine an Eevee with Acid Armor as some sort of furry brown Ditto. I don't know if I should thank you or curse you.
- Location
- USA
There's a double apostrophe in I'd
4.9 Fish
Fabled Webs
Lord Weaver, Glorious and Wise
- Location
- Arlington, VA
Aaron's Pokemon
- Artoria (Kirlia)
- Jeanne (Flaaffy)
- Durvasa (Mankey)
- Unnamed (Egg)
Fish 4.9
Aaron Fulan
Petalburg Woods
I sat in front of the campfire, the egg on my lap as Jeanne tried her hand at recreating the thoramin. It was… a work in progress. The first step, turning her tail-bulb and horns into tesla coils, was simple enough. The trouble was, Jeanne wasn't particularly gifted when it came to music.
I tapped my pokenav and a prerecorded note rang out. Jeanne looked absolutely adorable. She did her best to internalize the note and I could spy a hint of her pink tongue striking out of her mouth as she concentrated. Her tail-bulb flashed and a buzzing zap filled the air.
"Flaaf," she said, shaking her head in disappointment.
"Doesn't sound like it, does it?"
"Flaaffy."
"Did you think it'd be that easy?"
"Flaa? Flaaffy-flaaf."
"Try again. I'm sure you'll get it if you practice," I encouraged.
Truthfully, Jeanne had little talent for music. I'd still support her though. Music was something to be enjoyed. It was, in the end, something that could be achieved with raw passion and dedication alone. I had no doubt that she'd get there in time.
While my little lamb was doing her best to pick up the basics of music theory, my starter was trying to teach Durvasa his letters. She'd initially begun by scratching the alphabet into the dirt using the back of her spoon. Durvasa did his best to learn them, but it was hell on the little guy.
Durvasa was a mankey. His brain was hardwired to process information in a much more practical, proactive way than a human or ralts. What worked for Artoria in her youth didn't necessarily have the same effect with him. She had to indulge in an impromptu spar more than once when he finally lost his patience or got too restless.
In the end, what worked was Artoria reading the serving instructions of Durvasa's favorite pokechow. When he realized he could find out more about the ingredients, purported nutritional benefits, and flavors from the labels on the cans, he got a fair bit more cooperative.
Which wasn't to say he was magically fluent now. If anything, that was just the first step. Artoria had a hard time bridging the gap between human language and phonetics with the simple, intent-based language of pokemon.
I leaned back and watched the stars. Much like Earth, this world had its own constellations. In fact, it had several, from both pokemon and humans alike, and not just psychics. Alice once told me about a migrant flock of pidgeot that marked their destinations by the light of the stars as well as the electromagnetic pull of the earth below.
What I knew to be Rayquaza's coiling body was the plume of a massive pidgeot to some bird pokemon. That same line of stars was also the lightning of a raikou, Cobalion's mighty sword, or the antlers of Xerneas, depending on where you were or who you asked.
Lying here, staring up at the heavens, I was reminded of just how colorful this world was. Beyond the games and anime, there was so much to this world that didn't fit onto the screen. My pokemon weren't doing things that would make them better fighters but that was alright. There was a tranquility here that was almost magical, with natural beauty that was utterly unspoiled by civilization.
Just me, my team, and the forest around us.
It was a novel feeling that had yet to wear off. I didn't think it ever would.
X
As always, we trained on the move. I'd picked up a metal katana from a novelty store in Petalburg on my last day there. It was blunt and the steel wouldn't hold an edge even if I bothered to sharpen it, but it felt nice in my hands. The weight of a steel sword was distinctly different from a bokken. The way it sliced through the air made me feel as if I'd acquired something I'd lost.
'Now if only I could find a real sword,' I mused aimlessly, going through a complicated sword drill as I jogged. I was in anime-land and I would train like it.
'I do not believe a responsible adult would sell you lethal arms, my lord,' Artoria said. She jogged next to me, copying me move for move. Her spoon flickered with the blue of psychic power, then the violet-indigo of ghost, and the faintest hint of pink fairy. She was trying to get used to the feeling of "toggling" between the energy types, for lack of a better word.
'Yeah, you're probably right. Couldn't hurt to ask though. Dewford or Lavaridge maybe? I wouldn't mind a European longsword either. Though I might have to go to Kalos or Galar to get one. Hoenn takes after Japanese culture I think.'
'Or perhaps Japan takes after Hoenn?'
'Really? We're playing cosmic chicken and egg games?'
'Arceus is real though. Ergo, it stands to reason that he and his thousand hands forged this universe first. If he created yours as well, it must have come after.'
'We don't know that.'
'Perhaps.'
My training was going well, though not quite as well as my pokemons'. Ever since the tentacool incident, I'd been trying to reinforce my body with aura more often. The sting of the briefest brush of a tentacle had me seizing up in pain. It wasn't even a move, just the tentacool's natural venom. Hell, I didn't even think it was on purpose.
Unforgivable. Pokemon or not, magic jellyfish or not, I dove in to save someone and in turn needed saving. That didn't sit right with me. Being headstrong and reckless was fine, but only if you had the strength to back that talk. And this body, this younger me, was far too green.
I allowed myself to sink into a sort of moving meditation as I swelled my senses with aura. The world seemed more vibrant, the colors richer, the sounds more audible. Empathic perception as the sole talent I had as a psychic; it stood to reason I ought to begin by enhancing other forms of the same. Power would come in time.
In front of us, Durvasa honed his Detect, dodging the rain of Thunder Shocks and occasional Shock Waves from Jeanne. By evading at the last second, he could evade even the homing bolts of electricity, forcing them to ground themselves before he could take damage.
He was also doing it while wearing his weights and facing away from Jeanne as Jeanne was several steps behind Artoria and I.
It was a happy accident, but electricity turned out to be a wonderful training aid, maybe the best possible type for the purpose. It charged the air, making it buzz and hum before the crackling attack came. It meshed perfectly with the hypersensitivity provided by Detect, giving Durvasa a challenge that, while difficult, was predictable and avoidable.
X
We stopped for lunch at a ranger station situated near a creek. It was unlike the ones I'd seen near Slateport. Those had been little better than shacks by the side of the road, with a few logs and boulders scattered around some campfires to serve as benches. They'd been built to be as unobtrusive to nature as possible.
This one was a fair bit larger, large enough to have a healing machine, a small general store that sold canned goods and commonly forgotten camping supplies, and a bunk for rangers. At a guess, this was because of the nature of the route.
The route to Rustboro from Petalburg was a part of the traditional circuit, meaning people went out of their way to start their journeys here, as opposed to wherever they were originally from. Buses, flying services, and teleporters were available to make this relocation easier. The League encouraged this because it made keeping track of, and protecting, rookie trainers much easier.
A ranger station here served double duty, first to watch the rookies and guide them on their way through Petalburg Woods, and second to watch the rest of Petalburg Woods, the significantly less-traveled area with stronger pokemon. In that sense, a larger station was only natural.
Which raised the question, "Say, why is this place so busy? It's early May now," I asked the man at the counter.
He looked back at me with a friendly, megawatt smile. The sheer openness of people in this world still sometimes took me aback. "Well, hello there! What do you mean it's busy?"
I gestured around me. I could see more than a dozen-odd people sitting around, some chatting and having lunch and others looking through the general store's merchandise. "This. Shouldn't most people have moved off the first few routes by now? I expected to see a handful of people like me who aren't following the traditional route for the gym challenge."
"Some are like you, but not everyone starts their journey at the same time. It'd get kinda crowded, don't you think?"
"True. I guess most people don't actually expect to finish the gym challenge in a year."
"If at all. So it's not too strange to see kids go out to nearby cities and call it quits. Having a lot of badges is great and all, but most people don't want to put their lives on hold for a year or more, you know?"
"Yeah, I can see that. I only have two too so it's not like I can brag or anything."
"Yup. Take it slow, kid. You don't have anything to prove," he said with an easygoing smile.
"So they're all rookies?"
"Ehh, a couple. A few of them are veterans, I reckon. We do have to make money year round, you know. We sometimes schedule nature hikes, fishing contests, and similar events for the locals. If you go around to where the ranger cabins are, you'll see a lot more of the serious patrols coming in and out."
"Makes sense. Thanks for your help…"
"Jim, kid. And you're welcome. You're free to browse around or loiter."
So that's what we did. I made my team a quick lunch out of last night's leftovers before cutting them loose. Given that my team had been training all morning, Artoria could be trusted to not keep an eye on them. They'd burned a lot of energy on the way here; surely they'd just sit still and make some friends, right?
Wrong. So, so wrong.
Not ten minutes after I'd taken my eyes off them, when I'd just gotten seated and comfortable, I heard the angry screeching of a mankey and the startled squawk of a flaaffy, followed by a loud splash. I groaned and turned to face the creek.
I saw exactly what I'd expected: Durvasa looking triumphantly smug while Jeanne tried to keep her head above water with an undignified doggy paddle. Sighing, I got up and waved the veteran trainers back to their seats. "Sorry, everyone. Those numbskulls are mine."
I found Artoria looking out over the creek, doing her level best to look anywhere but back at me. She shuffled nervously back and forth, her aura tinged with the color of shame, bemusement, and then shame that she found this funny. 'I have no excuse.'
'I trusted you to keep them well-behaved,' I chided. Disappointment was much easier to express when we had a telepathic link between us.
'Yes, my lord…'
'Dare I ask what happened?'
'Jeanne wanted to groom Durvasa.'
'And she licks everything she likes,' I mused, putting two and two together.
'She licked Durvasa's ear when he was trying to sleep.'
'Ah, that explains it.' I watched Jeanne flail a bit more. The water wasn't deep, only about four or five feet at most, but to a flaaffy that was less than three feet tall, that was plenty of fluid to drown in. 'She does know how to swim, right? I'm not misremembering?'
'She does, my lord. Her emotions are also not panicked.'
'Oh, good. I was wondering if I was imagining the color.'
'Diva.'
'Yup. Diva.'
'I believe she wants you to save her.'
I sighed. 'You know, I expected you to deescalate before stuff like this could happen.'
'What? My lord! Have you any idea how difficult it is to tame a mankey's temper?' Artoria looked at me incredulously. I would have almost believed her had I not seen the barely contained mirth in her aura. 'Besides, my dear sister is in need of harsh lessons.'
'And you find this funny.'
'And I find this funny,' she confirmed with only the barest hint of shame.
"Are you going to go save your flaaffy or will you just keep staring off into the distance?" came a voice beside me.
I turned to find an older girl, maybe about seventeen or eighteen, with a whiscash at her feet. She was a bit chubby with a heavily freckled face protected from the sun by an oversized straw hat. The whiscash and her trainer had somehow managed to approach us from the nearby mudbank while we were talking.
"Hmm? Oh, sorry, I sometimes zone out when I'm talking with Artoria," I explained, gesturing to my kirlia for emphasis.
"A telepath? Haven't seen one since Anistar. Well your flaaffy looks like she's drowning, kid. You want my whiscash to go get it?"
"Nah, she's just being a diva." I said, shaking my head. I yelled at the flaaffy. "Jeanne, I know you can swim you brat. I can see your emotions! Get back here!"
"Flaaff!" she bleated sullenly. She nonetheless began paddling to shore.
"Really? Did you forget I can see emotions?"
"Flaaffy… Flaa."
"You did."
"Flaa…"
I grabbed Jeanne around the middle and carried her like a sack of potatoes. "Right, see? Just being a diva."
"And that one?" the veteran trainer asked, eyeing my mankey. Durvasa had found himself a nice pine tree to beat up and was busy shaking it to see if anything interesting would fall out. When a wurmple fell out, he caught it and gently put it back into the tree with a sheepish bark.
"He's also mine. Believe it or not, they get along fine most of the time."
"Uh-huh," she hummed disbelievingly. "You've got a weird team, kid."
"I do. Say, you have any fire types? I'd like to dry this one off."
"You know? I do at that. Come on, let's go find a nice clearing where my magcargo won't set the forest on fire."
That was how I ended up spending my lunch break, scolding all three of my pokemon. Jeanne for her compulsive need to lick people, Durvasa for overreacting, and Artoria for failing to stop either of her siblings before things ended with Jeanne going for a swim.
On the plus side, things did end up with me meeting Gloria. The veteran trainer had eleven badges, eight from Kalos and three here. The badges were good for a few years so long as she kept active as a trainer so she didn't seem to be in much of a rush to complete the rest of the Hoenn set. As she said, a conference was a conference; there wasn't any real need to compete in one every single year.
Though she wasn't as dedicated as many others, that didn't mean she wasn't a competent trainer in her own right. Hearing stories about her journey was thrilling, especially the time she got lost inTerminus Cave and almost became food for a durant colony. As far as she was concerned, that sole event justified having a magcargo on her team.
X
We typically stopped walking to set up camp fairly early in the afternoon. Not only was it necessary if I wanted a warm meal cooked over a fire, it also allowed Artoria to meditate with the moonrise. She and Durvasa had come to an agreement: His reading lessons would take place every day after our morning workout and breakfast and every other evening.
After tossing a foil packet filled with sausages, potatoes, and peppers into the fire, I motioned Durvasa and Jeanne away to give Artoria some peace and quiet. She sat cross-legged with her mega stone on her lap and her trusty spoon laid next to her.
That night on the ocean, before the mess with the tentacool, revealed to Artoria the nature of fairy type aura. Or rather, it got her on the starting line. Fairy type aura was, and would likely forever be, a mystery; that was just part of its nature, but now that she wasn't trying to forcibly leash it under her will, she had a much easier time calling on that untapped well of power.
Now, she tackled it with the same single-minded dedication I'd come to expect from her wherever any sort of training was involved. I doubted it'd be long before she could make a fairy type equivalent to Mana Edge.
And then? Then it would be within our grasp, the ultimate technique of Artoria Pendragon: The Excalispoon.
I felt her mind violently twitch at that god-awful name and a warm and fuzzy feeling welled up from within me.
Off a ways, Durvasa got to work on mastering Swift. I'd given it to him two days ago when he succeeded in dodging ten Shock Waves in a row with Detect. Granted, I had a feeling Jeanne hadn't been trying very hard, but it was still a noteworthy feat.
Norman had been correct: Swift was one of the easier moves to get down, and one that shored up a glaring vulnerability in Durvasa's fighting style. In just two days, he'd gone from never having heard of the move to throwing around golden ninja stars with some degree of accuracy. He wasn't great, especially with the homing aspect, but he looked like he had a lot of fun playing at target practice with an empty can of pokechow.
Unfortunately, though Shock Wave was considered an electric type reskin of Swift in the games, the two weren't actually as closely related as I'd first expected. Jeanne made homing bolts of electricity by enhancing aspects of electromagnetism with a hefty dose of aura bullshit, effectively turning the opponent into the opposite pole of a magnet.
That… wasn't at all how Swift worked. Which meant that despite how eager Jeanne was to help, Durvasa didn't get much out of her advice. Still, her cheering was cute so I left them to it.
After setting them up to practice, I settled in for some meditation of my own. I'd long since resigned myself to the fact that I'd never have the twins' natural talent, but that wasn't a reason to not try. I was a natural empath and had begun to infuse my body with aura, both more than most could ever say.
I spread out my senses, closing my eyes and sinking into my own mind. THere were no sights or sounds, nothing that would translate to the physical senses, but the emotions of those around me drew my attention anyway. If I had to describe it, it was as if I was standing in a black void, surrounded by floating, flickering candles, each representing a conscious mind.
Artoria's was the brightest of course, both in power and due to the metaphysical closeness we shared. Her mind was still, almost as if that flame had frozen in her discipline. We brushed against each other, a familiar comfort, before we turned to our own respective meditations.
Durvasa and Jeanne were bright as well, if in different ways. Where Artoria was a calm, stable lamp, Durvasa's mind felt like a campfire, one that lacked the trappings of man. He was a fire that could and would go out of control if left unchecked. By contrast, Jeanne's merry flame danced with an eagerness that suited the lamb who wanted to outshine the sun.
There were others too. We were in the middle of the woods; there was no way we'd ever be truly alone. A group of wurmple on practically every other tree. A nest of taillow hidden in the branches of an especially large spruce. A line of oddish coming alive from their daytime snooze to seek loamier soil. The forest was alive and each mind pinged my senses with a delightful warmth.
I still needed a minute or two of meditative stillness to enter this state of hyperawareness, but now that I had, it was enthralling. This aspect of myself was something I'd have to refine, just as surely as I refined my body and techniques.
Maybe one day, I wouldn't need to sit still and blind myself to reach this state. Perhaps I could combine this awareness with my sword style to reach heights I'd never reached in my past life.
I meditated for a few hours until the moon shone brightly in the sky. When I next became aware of the world, it was to find Durvasa and Jeanne curled up together by the fire, fully tuckered out and all but dead to the world. I left them to their sleep and threw a few more logs onto the coals to keep things toasty before snapping off a quick picture and posting it to the group chat.
Sir_Aaron: Yo, [look], Aren't they cute?
XO-CloudDancer-OX: ? Shouldn't you be asleep?
Sir_Aaron: Ehh, I just got done meditating and saw them cuddling. It was cute so I thought I'd share. Shouldn't you be asleep?
XO-CloudDancer-OX: I was about to go to bed, meanie. And Ali's cuter. [Here] he is with his brand spanking new ribbon from Fallarbor. That's two, by the way.
Sir_Aaron: What happened to this not being a competition? In hindsight, maybe I should've stuck around Petalburg for another two weeks for the monthly normal-rank contest.
XO-CloudDancer-OX: It's not a competition. But if it was, we both know who'd be winning.
Sir_Aaron: You're so much smugger over chat than in real life.
XO-CloudDancer-OX: That's not a word.
Sir_Aaron: It is now. I should get some sleep if I want to wake up for morning training though.
XO-CloudDancer-OX: Yeah, same here.
XO-CloudDancer-OX: Say, you're coming up from Petalburg, right?
SIr_Aaron: Yeah? What's up? You coming down from Fallarbor?
XO-CloudDancer-OX: Yup!
XO-CloudDancer-OX: I'll be down in Rustboro in like a week or so. I decided to actually give the whole hiking thing a try.
XO-CloudDancer-OX: Oh, by the way, Chaz is with me. We met in Fallarbor and started traveling together.
Sir_Aaron: …
Sir_Aaron: Who…?
XO-CloudDancer-OX: Chaz! You know, blonde? Wears a blue suit? Has a machop?
Sir_Aaron: …
XO-CloudDancer-OX: Oh, for goodness sake. [Here], a picture.
Sir_Aaron: Ohhh, that guy. Wait, did he follow you up to Fallarbor?
XO-CloudDancer-OX: Just a coincidence. He said he trained on Mt. Chimney for a bit.
Sir_Aaron: Mmk, so I'll see you both in Rustboro then.
Sir_Aaron: Oh, before I forget.
[Mayple has been invited.]
[ToTheMAX has been invited.]
XO-CloudDancer-OX: ?
XO-CloudDancer-OX: Who are they?
Sir_Aaron: May and Max Maple, Gym Leader Norman's kids. We got to talking and May's a huge fan of pokemon contests. I figure she'd like to meet the future Grand Coordinator early. And Max is pretty swell too. I think they'll get along great with the twins.
XO-CloudDancer-OX: Wow, someone's confident.
Sir_Aaron: I was talking about you actually.
Sir_Aaron: I consider you the most likely person to make GC in the next few years actually. I mean, I love Jeanne, but I think our routine is something that'll take a while to master.
XO-CloudDancer-OX: Aww, don't say that! Believe in your pokemon!
Sir_Aaron: I do, but I'm also realistic. You'll see what I mean when we meet up in Rustboro, but Jeanne's new fascination isn't something that can be mastered in just a month or two. More like years or a decade.
Sir_Aaron: Don't get me wrong. I think I can compete in the Grand Festival, but GC? Maybe not, at least not without a really big revamp to our routine.
XO-CloudDancer-OX: Wow, okay. We should practice together. You, me, and Chaz. We could probably learn a lot from each other, you know?
Sir_Aaron: Yeah, sounds good. I look forward to seeing how far Ali's come. Actually, I don't know anything about your routine at all.
XO-CloudDancer-OX: You haven't even looked at any recordings?
Sir_Aaron: No, sorry.
XO-CloudDancer-OX: Nah, this is fine. Even better in fact. We'll really be able to surprise you then.
XO-CloudDancer-OX: Anyway, I'm going to bed. Hehe, when the twins wake up, they'll have new friends to chat with huh?
Sir_Aaron: Or rivals. This will be interesting regardless. Anyway, goodnight, Lisia.
XO-CloudDancer-OX: Goodnight, Aaron.
Author's Note
Not much happened this chapter, mostly training and laying down the groundwork for things in the future.
Sword fact: The reason Japanese swordsmiths folded metal was because Japanese iron sucks. By folding iron, smiths infused some of the carbon from the forge into the metal, literally pounding it into layers like a croissant.
However, there is a limit to that. Swords were folded anywhere from eight to sixteen times, but no more than that. This is because while you could keep folding, the metal would become too homogenous. The layers would begin to blend together, losing the structural benefits of making those layers in the first place.
In anime and pop culture, you sometimes hear about a legendary sword that's been "folded ten thousand times." This is… stupid.
But, if you allow the writer some license for confusion, it makes more sense. While a "ten thousand fold" sword is silly, a "ten thousand layer" sword isn't. In fact, you can have quite a lot more than just ten thousand layers.
The number of layers are determined by 2 to the power of the number of folds. After eight folds, you would have a piece of iron with 256 layers. After twelve? 4,096. After sixteen? 65,636.
See? Possible, though I guess a "sword folded sixteen times" doesn't sound as special.
Where am I going with this? Umm… Swords and onions are like ogres; they have layers. And make people cry.
Spoon marathon continues. If you've enjoyed my stories and would like to support me, please find me on Pat-re-on under the same username. There, you can read more Spoon up to 4.13.
- Artoria (Kirlia)
- Jeanne (Flaaffy)
- Durvasa (Mankey)
- Unnamed (Egg)
Fish 4.9
Aaron Fulan
Petalburg Woods
I sat in front of the campfire, the egg on my lap as Jeanne tried her hand at recreating the thoramin. It was… a work in progress. The first step, turning her tail-bulb and horns into tesla coils, was simple enough. The trouble was, Jeanne wasn't particularly gifted when it came to music.
I tapped my pokenav and a prerecorded note rang out. Jeanne looked absolutely adorable. She did her best to internalize the note and I could spy a hint of her pink tongue striking out of her mouth as she concentrated. Her tail-bulb flashed and a buzzing zap filled the air.
"Flaaf," she said, shaking her head in disappointment.
"Doesn't sound like it, does it?"
"Flaaffy."
"Did you think it'd be that easy?"
"Flaa? Flaaffy-flaaf."
"Try again. I'm sure you'll get it if you practice," I encouraged.
Truthfully, Jeanne had little talent for music. I'd still support her though. Music was something to be enjoyed. It was, in the end, something that could be achieved with raw passion and dedication alone. I had no doubt that she'd get there in time.
While my little lamb was doing her best to pick up the basics of music theory, my starter was trying to teach Durvasa his letters. She'd initially begun by scratching the alphabet into the dirt using the back of her spoon. Durvasa did his best to learn them, but it was hell on the little guy.
Durvasa was a mankey. His brain was hardwired to process information in a much more practical, proactive way than a human or ralts. What worked for Artoria in her youth didn't necessarily have the same effect with him. She had to indulge in an impromptu spar more than once when he finally lost his patience or got too restless.
In the end, what worked was Artoria reading the serving instructions of Durvasa's favorite pokechow. When he realized he could find out more about the ingredients, purported nutritional benefits, and flavors from the labels on the cans, he got a fair bit more cooperative.
Which wasn't to say he was magically fluent now. If anything, that was just the first step. Artoria had a hard time bridging the gap between human language and phonetics with the simple, intent-based language of pokemon.
I leaned back and watched the stars. Much like Earth, this world had its own constellations. In fact, it had several, from both pokemon and humans alike, and not just psychics. Alice once told me about a migrant flock of pidgeot that marked their destinations by the light of the stars as well as the electromagnetic pull of the earth below.
What I knew to be Rayquaza's coiling body was the plume of a massive pidgeot to some bird pokemon. That same line of stars was also the lightning of a raikou, Cobalion's mighty sword, or the antlers of Xerneas, depending on where you were or who you asked.
Lying here, staring up at the heavens, I was reminded of just how colorful this world was. Beyond the games and anime, there was so much to this world that didn't fit onto the screen. My pokemon weren't doing things that would make them better fighters but that was alright. There was a tranquility here that was almost magical, with natural beauty that was utterly unspoiled by civilization.
Just me, my team, and the forest around us.
It was a novel feeling that had yet to wear off. I didn't think it ever would.
X
As always, we trained on the move. I'd picked up a metal katana from a novelty store in Petalburg on my last day there. It was blunt and the steel wouldn't hold an edge even if I bothered to sharpen it, but it felt nice in my hands. The weight of a steel sword was distinctly different from a bokken. The way it sliced through the air made me feel as if I'd acquired something I'd lost.
'Now if only I could find a real sword,' I mused aimlessly, going through a complicated sword drill as I jogged. I was in anime-land and I would train like it.
'I do not believe a responsible adult would sell you lethal arms, my lord,' Artoria said. She jogged next to me, copying me move for move. Her spoon flickered with the blue of psychic power, then the violet-indigo of ghost, and the faintest hint of pink fairy. She was trying to get used to the feeling of "toggling" between the energy types, for lack of a better word.
'Yeah, you're probably right. Couldn't hurt to ask though. Dewford or Lavaridge maybe? I wouldn't mind a European longsword either. Though I might have to go to Kalos or Galar to get one. Hoenn takes after Japanese culture I think.'
'Or perhaps Japan takes after Hoenn?'
'Really? We're playing cosmic chicken and egg games?'
'Arceus is real though. Ergo, it stands to reason that he and his thousand hands forged this universe first. If he created yours as well, it must have come after.'
'We don't know that.'
'Perhaps.'
My training was going well, though not quite as well as my pokemons'. Ever since the tentacool incident, I'd been trying to reinforce my body with aura more often. The sting of the briefest brush of a tentacle had me seizing up in pain. It wasn't even a move, just the tentacool's natural venom. Hell, I didn't even think it was on purpose.
Unforgivable. Pokemon or not, magic jellyfish or not, I dove in to save someone and in turn needed saving. That didn't sit right with me. Being headstrong and reckless was fine, but only if you had the strength to back that talk. And this body, this younger me, was far too green.
I allowed myself to sink into a sort of moving meditation as I swelled my senses with aura. The world seemed more vibrant, the colors richer, the sounds more audible. Empathic perception as the sole talent I had as a psychic; it stood to reason I ought to begin by enhancing other forms of the same. Power would come in time.
In front of us, Durvasa honed his Detect, dodging the rain of Thunder Shocks and occasional Shock Waves from Jeanne. By evading at the last second, he could evade even the homing bolts of electricity, forcing them to ground themselves before he could take damage.
He was also doing it while wearing his weights and facing away from Jeanne as Jeanne was several steps behind Artoria and I.
It was a happy accident, but electricity turned out to be a wonderful training aid, maybe the best possible type for the purpose. It charged the air, making it buzz and hum before the crackling attack came. It meshed perfectly with the hypersensitivity provided by Detect, giving Durvasa a challenge that, while difficult, was predictable and avoidable.
X
We stopped for lunch at a ranger station situated near a creek. It was unlike the ones I'd seen near Slateport. Those had been little better than shacks by the side of the road, with a few logs and boulders scattered around some campfires to serve as benches. They'd been built to be as unobtrusive to nature as possible.
This one was a fair bit larger, large enough to have a healing machine, a small general store that sold canned goods and commonly forgotten camping supplies, and a bunk for rangers. At a guess, this was because of the nature of the route.
The route to Rustboro from Petalburg was a part of the traditional circuit, meaning people went out of their way to start their journeys here, as opposed to wherever they were originally from. Buses, flying services, and teleporters were available to make this relocation easier. The League encouraged this because it made keeping track of, and protecting, rookie trainers much easier.
A ranger station here served double duty, first to watch the rookies and guide them on their way through Petalburg Woods, and second to watch the rest of Petalburg Woods, the significantly less-traveled area with stronger pokemon. In that sense, a larger station was only natural.
Which raised the question, "Say, why is this place so busy? It's early May now," I asked the man at the counter.
He looked back at me with a friendly, megawatt smile. The sheer openness of people in this world still sometimes took me aback. "Well, hello there! What do you mean it's busy?"
I gestured around me. I could see more than a dozen-odd people sitting around, some chatting and having lunch and others looking through the general store's merchandise. "This. Shouldn't most people have moved off the first few routes by now? I expected to see a handful of people like me who aren't following the traditional route for the gym challenge."
"Some are like you, but not everyone starts their journey at the same time. It'd get kinda crowded, don't you think?"
"True. I guess most people don't actually expect to finish the gym challenge in a year."
"If at all. So it's not too strange to see kids go out to nearby cities and call it quits. Having a lot of badges is great and all, but most people don't want to put their lives on hold for a year or more, you know?"
"Yeah, I can see that. I only have two too so it's not like I can brag or anything."
"Yup. Take it slow, kid. You don't have anything to prove," he said with an easygoing smile.
"So they're all rookies?"
"Ehh, a couple. A few of them are veterans, I reckon. We do have to make money year round, you know. We sometimes schedule nature hikes, fishing contests, and similar events for the locals. If you go around to where the ranger cabins are, you'll see a lot more of the serious patrols coming in and out."
"Makes sense. Thanks for your help…"
"Jim, kid. And you're welcome. You're free to browse around or loiter."
So that's what we did. I made my team a quick lunch out of last night's leftovers before cutting them loose. Given that my team had been training all morning, Artoria could be trusted to not keep an eye on them. They'd burned a lot of energy on the way here; surely they'd just sit still and make some friends, right?
Wrong. So, so wrong.
Not ten minutes after I'd taken my eyes off them, when I'd just gotten seated and comfortable, I heard the angry screeching of a mankey and the startled squawk of a flaaffy, followed by a loud splash. I groaned and turned to face the creek.
I saw exactly what I'd expected: Durvasa looking triumphantly smug while Jeanne tried to keep her head above water with an undignified doggy paddle. Sighing, I got up and waved the veteran trainers back to their seats. "Sorry, everyone. Those numbskulls are mine."
I found Artoria looking out over the creek, doing her level best to look anywhere but back at me. She shuffled nervously back and forth, her aura tinged with the color of shame, bemusement, and then shame that she found this funny. 'I have no excuse.'
'I trusted you to keep them well-behaved,' I chided. Disappointment was much easier to express when we had a telepathic link between us.
'Yes, my lord…'
'Dare I ask what happened?'
'Jeanne wanted to groom Durvasa.'
'And she licks everything she likes,' I mused, putting two and two together.
'She licked Durvasa's ear when he was trying to sleep.'
'Ah, that explains it.' I watched Jeanne flail a bit more. The water wasn't deep, only about four or five feet at most, but to a flaaffy that was less than three feet tall, that was plenty of fluid to drown in. 'She does know how to swim, right? I'm not misremembering?'
'She does, my lord. Her emotions are also not panicked.'
'Oh, good. I was wondering if I was imagining the color.'
'Diva.'
'Yup. Diva.'
'I believe she wants you to save her.'
I sighed. 'You know, I expected you to deescalate before stuff like this could happen.'
'What? My lord! Have you any idea how difficult it is to tame a mankey's temper?' Artoria looked at me incredulously. I would have almost believed her had I not seen the barely contained mirth in her aura. 'Besides, my dear sister is in need of harsh lessons.'
'And you find this funny.'
'And I find this funny,' she confirmed with only the barest hint of shame.
"Are you going to go save your flaaffy or will you just keep staring off into the distance?" came a voice beside me.
I turned to find an older girl, maybe about seventeen or eighteen, with a whiscash at her feet. She was a bit chubby with a heavily freckled face protected from the sun by an oversized straw hat. The whiscash and her trainer had somehow managed to approach us from the nearby mudbank while we were talking.
"Hmm? Oh, sorry, I sometimes zone out when I'm talking with Artoria," I explained, gesturing to my kirlia for emphasis.
"A telepath? Haven't seen one since Anistar. Well your flaaffy looks like she's drowning, kid. You want my whiscash to go get it?"
"Nah, she's just being a diva." I said, shaking my head. I yelled at the flaaffy. "Jeanne, I know you can swim you brat. I can see your emotions! Get back here!"
"Flaaff!" she bleated sullenly. She nonetheless began paddling to shore.
"Really? Did you forget I can see emotions?"
"Flaaffy… Flaa."
"You did."
"Flaa…"
I grabbed Jeanne around the middle and carried her like a sack of potatoes. "Right, see? Just being a diva."
"And that one?" the veteran trainer asked, eyeing my mankey. Durvasa had found himself a nice pine tree to beat up and was busy shaking it to see if anything interesting would fall out. When a wurmple fell out, he caught it and gently put it back into the tree with a sheepish bark.
"He's also mine. Believe it or not, they get along fine most of the time."
"Uh-huh," she hummed disbelievingly. "You've got a weird team, kid."
"I do. Say, you have any fire types? I'd like to dry this one off."
"You know? I do at that. Come on, let's go find a nice clearing where my magcargo won't set the forest on fire."
That was how I ended up spending my lunch break, scolding all three of my pokemon. Jeanne for her compulsive need to lick people, Durvasa for overreacting, and Artoria for failing to stop either of her siblings before things ended with Jeanne going for a swim.
On the plus side, things did end up with me meeting Gloria. The veteran trainer had eleven badges, eight from Kalos and three here. The badges were good for a few years so long as she kept active as a trainer so she didn't seem to be in much of a rush to complete the rest of the Hoenn set. As she said, a conference was a conference; there wasn't any real need to compete in one every single year.
Though she wasn't as dedicated as many others, that didn't mean she wasn't a competent trainer in her own right. Hearing stories about her journey was thrilling, especially the time she got lost inTerminus Cave and almost became food for a durant colony. As far as she was concerned, that sole event justified having a magcargo on her team.
X
We typically stopped walking to set up camp fairly early in the afternoon. Not only was it necessary if I wanted a warm meal cooked over a fire, it also allowed Artoria to meditate with the moonrise. She and Durvasa had come to an agreement: His reading lessons would take place every day after our morning workout and breakfast and every other evening.
After tossing a foil packet filled with sausages, potatoes, and peppers into the fire, I motioned Durvasa and Jeanne away to give Artoria some peace and quiet. She sat cross-legged with her mega stone on her lap and her trusty spoon laid next to her.
That night on the ocean, before the mess with the tentacool, revealed to Artoria the nature of fairy type aura. Or rather, it got her on the starting line. Fairy type aura was, and would likely forever be, a mystery; that was just part of its nature, but now that she wasn't trying to forcibly leash it under her will, she had a much easier time calling on that untapped well of power.
Now, she tackled it with the same single-minded dedication I'd come to expect from her wherever any sort of training was involved. I doubted it'd be long before she could make a fairy type equivalent to Mana Edge.
And then? Then it would be within our grasp, the ultimate technique of Artoria Pendragon: The Excalispoon.
I felt her mind violently twitch at that god-awful name and a warm and fuzzy feeling welled up from within me.
Off a ways, Durvasa got to work on mastering Swift. I'd given it to him two days ago when he succeeded in dodging ten Shock Waves in a row with Detect. Granted, I had a feeling Jeanne hadn't been trying very hard, but it was still a noteworthy feat.
Norman had been correct: Swift was one of the easier moves to get down, and one that shored up a glaring vulnerability in Durvasa's fighting style. In just two days, he'd gone from never having heard of the move to throwing around golden ninja stars with some degree of accuracy. He wasn't great, especially with the homing aspect, but he looked like he had a lot of fun playing at target practice with an empty can of pokechow.
Unfortunately, though Shock Wave was considered an electric type reskin of Swift in the games, the two weren't actually as closely related as I'd first expected. Jeanne made homing bolts of electricity by enhancing aspects of electromagnetism with a hefty dose of aura bullshit, effectively turning the opponent into the opposite pole of a magnet.
That… wasn't at all how Swift worked. Which meant that despite how eager Jeanne was to help, Durvasa didn't get much out of her advice. Still, her cheering was cute so I left them to it.
After setting them up to practice, I settled in for some meditation of my own. I'd long since resigned myself to the fact that I'd never have the twins' natural talent, but that wasn't a reason to not try. I was a natural empath and had begun to infuse my body with aura, both more than most could ever say.
I spread out my senses, closing my eyes and sinking into my own mind. THere were no sights or sounds, nothing that would translate to the physical senses, but the emotions of those around me drew my attention anyway. If I had to describe it, it was as if I was standing in a black void, surrounded by floating, flickering candles, each representing a conscious mind.
Artoria's was the brightest of course, both in power and due to the metaphysical closeness we shared. Her mind was still, almost as if that flame had frozen in her discipline. We brushed against each other, a familiar comfort, before we turned to our own respective meditations.
Durvasa and Jeanne were bright as well, if in different ways. Where Artoria was a calm, stable lamp, Durvasa's mind felt like a campfire, one that lacked the trappings of man. He was a fire that could and would go out of control if left unchecked. By contrast, Jeanne's merry flame danced with an eagerness that suited the lamb who wanted to outshine the sun.
There were others too. We were in the middle of the woods; there was no way we'd ever be truly alone. A group of wurmple on practically every other tree. A nest of taillow hidden in the branches of an especially large spruce. A line of oddish coming alive from their daytime snooze to seek loamier soil. The forest was alive and each mind pinged my senses with a delightful warmth.
I still needed a minute or two of meditative stillness to enter this state of hyperawareness, but now that I had, it was enthralling. This aspect of myself was something I'd have to refine, just as surely as I refined my body and techniques.
Maybe one day, I wouldn't need to sit still and blind myself to reach this state. Perhaps I could combine this awareness with my sword style to reach heights I'd never reached in my past life.
I meditated for a few hours until the moon shone brightly in the sky. When I next became aware of the world, it was to find Durvasa and Jeanne curled up together by the fire, fully tuckered out and all but dead to the world. I left them to their sleep and threw a few more logs onto the coals to keep things toasty before snapping off a quick picture and posting it to the group chat.
Sir_Aaron: Yo, [look], Aren't they cute?
XO-CloudDancer-OX: ? Shouldn't you be asleep?
Sir_Aaron: Ehh, I just got done meditating and saw them cuddling. It was cute so I thought I'd share. Shouldn't you be asleep?
XO-CloudDancer-OX: I was about to go to bed, meanie. And Ali's cuter. [Here] he is with his brand spanking new ribbon from Fallarbor. That's two, by the way.
Sir_Aaron: What happened to this not being a competition? In hindsight, maybe I should've stuck around Petalburg for another two weeks for the monthly normal-rank contest.
XO-CloudDancer-OX: It's not a competition. But if it was, we both know who'd be winning.
Sir_Aaron: You're so much smugger over chat than in real life.
XO-CloudDancer-OX: That's not a word.
Sir_Aaron: It is now. I should get some sleep if I want to wake up for morning training though.
XO-CloudDancer-OX: Yeah, same here.
XO-CloudDancer-OX: Say, you're coming up from Petalburg, right?
SIr_Aaron: Yeah? What's up? You coming down from Fallarbor?
XO-CloudDancer-OX: Yup!
XO-CloudDancer-OX: I'll be down in Rustboro in like a week or so. I decided to actually give the whole hiking thing a try.
XO-CloudDancer-OX: Oh, by the way, Chaz is with me. We met in Fallarbor and started traveling together.
Sir_Aaron: …
Sir_Aaron: Who…?
XO-CloudDancer-OX: Chaz! You know, blonde? Wears a blue suit? Has a machop?
Sir_Aaron: …
XO-CloudDancer-OX: Oh, for goodness sake. [Here], a picture.
Sir_Aaron: Ohhh, that guy. Wait, did he follow you up to Fallarbor?
XO-CloudDancer-OX: Just a coincidence. He said he trained on Mt. Chimney for a bit.
Sir_Aaron: Mmk, so I'll see you both in Rustboro then.
Sir_Aaron: Oh, before I forget.
[Mayple has been invited.]
[ToTheMAX has been invited.]
XO-CloudDancer-OX: ?
XO-CloudDancer-OX: Who are they?
Sir_Aaron: May and Max Maple, Gym Leader Norman's kids. We got to talking and May's a huge fan of pokemon contests. I figure she'd like to meet the future Grand Coordinator early. And Max is pretty swell too. I think they'll get along great with the twins.
XO-CloudDancer-OX: Wow, someone's confident.
Sir_Aaron: I was talking about you actually.
Sir_Aaron: I consider you the most likely person to make GC in the next few years actually. I mean, I love Jeanne, but I think our routine is something that'll take a while to master.
XO-CloudDancer-OX: Aww, don't say that! Believe in your pokemon!
Sir_Aaron: I do, but I'm also realistic. You'll see what I mean when we meet up in Rustboro, but Jeanne's new fascination isn't something that can be mastered in just a month or two. More like years or a decade.
Sir_Aaron: Don't get me wrong. I think I can compete in the Grand Festival, but GC? Maybe not, at least not without a really big revamp to our routine.
XO-CloudDancer-OX: Wow, okay. We should practice together. You, me, and Chaz. We could probably learn a lot from each other, you know?
Sir_Aaron: Yeah, sounds good. I look forward to seeing how far Ali's come. Actually, I don't know anything about your routine at all.
XO-CloudDancer-OX: You haven't even looked at any recordings?
Sir_Aaron: No, sorry.
XO-CloudDancer-OX: Nah, this is fine. Even better in fact. We'll really be able to surprise you then.
XO-CloudDancer-OX: Anyway, I'm going to bed. Hehe, when the twins wake up, they'll have new friends to chat with huh?
Sir_Aaron: Or rivals. This will be interesting regardless. Anyway, goodnight, Lisia.
XO-CloudDancer-OX: Goodnight, Aaron.
Author's Note
Not much happened this chapter, mostly training and laying down the groundwork for things in the future.
Sword fact: The reason Japanese swordsmiths folded metal was because Japanese iron sucks. By folding iron, smiths infused some of the carbon from the forge into the metal, literally pounding it into layers like a croissant.
However, there is a limit to that. Swords were folded anywhere from eight to sixteen times, but no more than that. This is because while you could keep folding, the metal would become too homogenous. The layers would begin to blend together, losing the structural benefits of making those layers in the first place.
In anime and pop culture, you sometimes hear about a legendary sword that's been "folded ten thousand times." This is… stupid.
But, if you allow the writer some license for confusion, it makes more sense. While a "ten thousand fold" sword is silly, a "ten thousand layer" sword isn't. In fact, you can have quite a lot more than just ten thousand layers.
The number of layers are determined by 2 to the power of the number of folds. After eight folds, you would have a piece of iron with 256 layers. After twelve? 4,096. After sixteen? 65,636.
See? Possible, though I guess a "sword folded sixteen times" doesn't sound as special.
Where am I going with this? Umm… Swords and onions are like ogres; they have layers. And make people cry.
Spoon marathon continues. If you've enjoyed my stories and would like to support me, please find me on Pat-re-on under the same username. There, you can read more Spoon up to 4.13.
4.10 Fish
Fabled Webs
Lord Weaver, Glorious and Wise
- Location
- Arlington, VA
Aaron's Pokemon
- Artoria (Kirlia)
- Jeanne (Flaaffy)
- Durvasa (Mankey)
- Unnamed (Egg)
Fish 4.10
Aaron Fulan
Petalburg Woods
On the plus side, the twins and the Maple siblings got along great. They agreed that I was the coolest trainer their age, which did wonderful things for my ego. As a big brother, I couldn't be prouder. They spent a solid half hour geeking out over my most recent gym battle and how cool Artoria and Durvasa were.
On the downside, May and Liza got into an argument about whether coordinators or battlers were superior. Lisia did her best to mediate, her uncle was an exemplar of both after all, but kids were kids. They argued like only tween girls could, blind to every bit of reasoning.
Truthfully, I was of the opinion that they got along extremely well and were becoming fast friends. The opportunity to talk passionately about a subject they loved with a stranger was rare and I thought they understood that even if they didn't quite know how to put it into words.
Liza then adopted Max, giving him all sorts of ideas to prank his sister. The Maple house would likely get… interesting…
Then again, that wasn't my problem. Norman Maple could use some excitement in his life.
Several days later, we were camped out beneath the stars. I finally taught Jeanne her very first song. We celebrated by cracking open a fresh jar of pecha berry jam. After all, the song was a classic. It was ubiquitous. It was timeless.
'My lord, it's "Mary had a Little Lamb,"' Artoria drawled. 'Let's not make this out to be more than it is.'
'It's a classic,' I argued, more for the sake of banter than anything. 'You just don't know how to appreciate great music.'
'Will the judges agree?'
'Ehh, probably not. Still, it's a start. It's only four notes, but that's four notes she can make with static that she couldn't before.'
'Of course, my lord.'
Next to us sat Durvasa and Artoria. Durvasa had my pokenav in hand and was trying to read the script of a play, one of the old ones that described some epic battle or another. It was incredible how smart my mankey was. He'd gone from having a hard time with the alphabet to reading historical plays.
Oh, he wasn't fluent, but he could slowly sound out the words. He ran his little finger under each letter, picking out the sounds in his head until he got a word he could understand. It took him ages to read a single page, but speed and comfort would come with time.
Not for the first time, I wondered if pokemon had some innate blessings when it came to learning languages. It wouldn't surprise me: Arceus was a god who made the power of friendship a tangible force in his universe. By default, it kind of necessitated a need for communication.
And yet, he grew frustrated. He was like a painter who'd taken an interest in engineering. A painter might love architecture from an aesthetic perspective, but he simply lacked the background to fully comprehend the design principles an engineer had to consider.
In Durvasa's case, the problem was that he'd never had to learn anything except fighting. And learning to fight was easy. It came instinctively. Motor control, positioning, and even the kind of cunning that caught my interest in the first place, it all came naturally to Durvasa. He'd never truly struggled in his pursuit of self-improvement before.
I really should have seen it coming.
"Man-MANKEY!" he roared, chucking my pokenav across the clearing. His shout of frustration caught my eye, but both Jeanne and I were too far away to catch the pokenav. It bounced against the ground with the telltale sound of cracking glass.
"Kirlia! Kir!" Artoria shouted. Her spoon lashed out so quickly that the air whistled, striking Durvasa across the face and chucking him into a tree. "Kir-Kirlia!"
I bolted to my feet before the two could really begin fighting. "ENOUGH! What the hell is wrong with you two?"
The two promptly descended into shouting. I grabbed them both and sat them in front of me. I glared at them with all the disappointment I could muster. Unfortunately, I could only hold a full conversation with one of them. Lucky me, I didn't actually have to do that.
"Artoria, that was unacceptable. You hit your teammate, the one you were supposed to be teaching, because you lost your temper," I chided. I held out a hand to shush her. "Yes, Durvasa threw my pokenav. Doesn't matter. Property can be replaced and you shouldn't have done that. You threw the first punch so apologize."
Artoria looked down at the ground with a shamefaced expression. She valued herself first and foremost as a knight. As far as she was concerned, protecting my property was part of that. No, more to the point, she considered Durvasa and Jeanne to be of similar roles, even if they didn't see themselves that way. To her, the team was a knightly order and Durvasa's behavior was unbefitting of that order.
Still, there was no denying that she'd wronged Durvasa in turn. As a kirlia, Artoria could literally taste my disappointment with her. So she swallowed her pride.
"Kirlia… Lia," she mumbled an apology. Then, louder, as she bowed.
"And you, Durvasa. You're making incredible progress," I told him. "Wasn't mastering your anger the whole point of enlightenment for you?"
"Man…"
"It's fine. Getting angry is okay. Losing control is not. You went from learning the alphabet to reading plays in such a short time. You've got nothing to be ashamed of. If anything, you learned faster than I ever did."
"Mankey. Man-mankey," he grumbled. He shuffled back and forth sheepishly. By the color of his aura, I took that to be an apology. It wasn't much of one, but it'd do.
"You're doing well. It's okay to take a break when you get too frustrated. Yes, the internet has a lot of information, but it's not going anywhere. In fact, it's growing constantly. Take your time, Durvasa, it'll be here when you're fluent."
"Mankey…"
Jeanne trotted over. In her hands was the pokenav he threw. She offered it to me with a soft bleat. I reached over and pet her, her soft wool did a lot to relax me.
Fight averted for now, I took the pokenav and inspected the damage. The screen now sported a spider web of cracks that divided it like a pizza. I turned it back on and saw that I could still read the screen if I squinted a bit. Still, Durvasa needed to be punished somehow and the answer was obvious.
"No pokenav," I told Durvasa. "When we get to Rustboro, we'll visit a bookstore and buy some for you, but if this is what happens when you lose control, I don't want you touching delicate technology until you're comfortable with reading."
"Mankey," he nodded in resignation.
"In the meantime, you can go ahead and practice reading from the League handbook or the travel guide."
"Man."
I let them go with a sigh. Once again, I was reminded that training pokemon was a lot like raising children sometimes.
'I apologize, my lord,' Artoria whispered in my mind, a wave of regret flowing from her side of the bond. 'I should have recognized his mounting frustration and cut the session short.'
'It's fine, Artoria,' I said. I picked her up and dragged her onto my lap. 'Durvasa's always got a curtain of irritation around him. I know it's hard to tell exactly what he's feeling through it.'
'Still, I did not think he would lash out like a child.'
'Which of you barfed all over my shirt after overeating again?'
'...'
I ran my fingers through Artoria's green locks. 'It's fine, Artoria. You're young. You're allowed to be childish. I doubt Durvasa will do this again; he's the kind of martial artist who takes a lot of pride in self-discipline.'
'Indeed, my lord. He will chastise himself.'
'As do you. I seldom have to discipline you either. You're not too different from one another, you know'
'Perhaps…'
I chatted with Artoria and fiddled absently with the broken pokenav. The screen still worked, sort of, but it obscured enough that I'd need a new model. I also found that the audio stopped working as well, which meant no music or notifications from the chatroom. Unfortunate, but I put it out of mind seeing how Lisia would be in Rustboro in a few days anyway.
The real problem with the broken audio was that Jeanne no longer had notes to compare herself to. It wasn't the end of the world, but the flaaffy shot Durvasa annoyed looks nonetheless.
X
We were still in the woods two days later when Jeanne stopped. Her ears flickered to and fro, listening anxiously. Durvasa quickly followed. It was only then that I realized the woods had grown unusually silent.
"Flaaf," Jeanne bleated, voice tinged with worry.
"What's going on? Do you hear anything?" I asked her. Next to me, Artoria brandished her spoon, ready to take on all comers.
Then it hit. A wave of unbridled rage that put Durvasa's entire pack to shame struck Artoria and I like a tangible force. Raw anger was the primary emotion, but there was also grief and regret too, contempt and scorn like I'd never felt before. So strong was this empathic wave that I didn't even need to meditate to pinpoint their locations.
"Four incoming. DUCK!" I shouted.
I put words to deed and dropped to the floor haphazardly. Next to me, Artoria, Durvasa, and Jeanne did the same, and just in time to see four figures blitz past us at speeds that would rival cars on the freeway. I saw a streak of red followed by three, forest-green figures. A tree collapsed at their passing and a flying branch narrowly clipped my shoulder.
I rolled to my feet to find arguably the worst possible scenario: Three scyther surrounded us, led by a particularly pissed off scizor. I didn't need to be an empath to see the blood-boiling wrath in its eyes. It looked like it was a second away from killing us all.
The three scyther looked younger judging by the light green of their carapace, but that didn't make them any less dangerous. They lashed out at their surroundings, only to zero in on us. On me. They saw me and their wings buzzed ominously as they got ready to lunge.
Fuck trying to talk things out. I did what came to me first. "Jeanne! Flash!"
Strictly speaking, it wasn't a move Jeanne had in her arsenal, but it could be said that this was the move that best encapsulated her personality. It was her ambition, to outshine the sun. She didn't need a TM to know how to turn up the lumens.
I snatched Durvasa and Jeanne and tucked them under my arms before diving to the side. I was just in time, evading a scyther's arcing blow by the skin of my teeth. They continued to lash out wildly, carving deep furroughs into the trees and boulders nearby. I quickly ducked behind a log and mentally called out to Artoria to teleport to my side; so long as we had our empathic bond, she wouldn't lose my position.
"Durvasa, protect Jeanne. Jeanne, Shock Wave. Focus down the scyther," I rattled off. "Artoria, keep the scizor busy. Spam Teleport."
Those two seconds were all we had before the scizor let out a commanding noise that was halfway between a bark and a buzz. It brandished its crimson claws and lashed out at the nearby tree, smashing through the trunk like a wrecking ball. Its voice was enough to get the three scyther into some semblance of order.
Before they could fully gather themselves, Jeanne struck. She laid down an Electric Terrain that made the hair on my arms stand on end. Then she popped out from behind the log, a large ball of electricity sparking between her palms.
I thought that if we could keep the scizor busy somehow, we could abuse Jeanne's type advantage to slowly whittle down the three scyther. Assuming these were wild pokemon, they ought to be at about the same strength as my pokemon, perhaps a bit stronger. In that scenario, Jeanne would be my ace in the hole so long as she could keep her distance.
Unfortunately, there was jack-shit I could do about the scizor except trust that Artoria had this. A dozen different half-formed thoughts flashed between us, our consistent intimacy the only reason we could communicate at all. She vanished in a spark of blue light; she knew what she had to do.
The nearest scyther screeched in pain as the Electro Ball struck its head. Jeanne was holding nothing back. Scyther weren't natural predators, not like the ursaring, but she damn well knew what was at stake.
That was when its two compatriots struck. They buzzed menacingly and I knew before they even began to move that I'd made a mistake: Durvasa wouldn't be enough to guard Jeanne while she sniped them down. Flying types still had the edge on him. He struggled against a taillow. A pair of heavier, stronger, and presumably more experienced, at the very least more aggressive, scyther would quickly overwhelm my little sage.
Again, my body moved before I could fully put my thoughts together. The blunted katana scraped ominously against one scyther's claw. I grunted with exertion; it was all I could do to hold back a single scythe. When it swung with the other, I was forced to step back; even trying to parry one of those was dangerous.
We weren't good enough. I'd hoped that Jeanne could knock out one scyther before all three could rush us, but that proved to be too much to ask for. It was hurt badly, but it continued on with a steadfast resolve that would have been impressive had said resolve not been to disembowel us all.
Jeanne released another Flash without prompting, catching the three scyther. Durvasa and I avoided it because we were facing away from her. That caused the scyther to flinch in pain and we took advantage of that to the best of our abilities.
I rained down blows with bone-breaking force, but the scyther's thick carapace deflected the katana handily. It flailed wildly, lashing out with random sweeps of its scythe-arms. It was fast, faster than I could dodge. I managed to slide one scythe off the back of my sword but was forced to backpedal as fast as I could, almost losing an eye for my trouble.
I didn't know how long we fought like that. It couldn't have been very long but it felt like forever. We reached an uneasy equilibrium: Durvasa and I would get pushed back by the three scyther and Jeanne would Flash, buying us a few seconds of reprieve. Whether Artoria got taken down by the scizor or Jeanne could bring down the three scyther first would determine our immediate chances of survival.
"Pidgeot! Wing Attack!" I heard above me.
The screech of a fully evolved raptor filled the sky as a white blur streaked between two scyther, crashing into them with a glowing wing each. One of them, the one Jeanne had been working over, fainted immediately, while the other crumpled to the ground but still attempted to rise.
At the same time, a figure dropped down ten feet or so from the air, rolling over his shoulder and rising to his feet in a practiced roll. He wore a ranger's fatigues and I felt an immediate sense of relief; we wouldn't be dying today.
"Withdraw!" I shouted as I hurried back to Jeanne's side. "To me!"
Durvasa grunted in pain but hurried to obey. Even from a cursory glance, I could tell he'd need healing. Just the two minutes or so of combat had worn out my team to this extent. In a flash of light, Artoria teleported to my position. She was sporting a massive bruise over her left eye and her skirt was torn, leaving a line of red from the scizor's Metal Claw.
The ranger responded immediately. He saw that my pokemon were out of the way and cleaned up as quickly as he could. "Heat Wave!"
"Pidgeoo!" the raptor cried, stretching out its eight foot wingspan. Motes of crimson light gathered around its wings.
Then, just as the pidgeot began to release that torrent of heat, the scizor struck. "Sci-ZOR!"
The air cracked with its passing, not unlike the sound of an elk hunting rifle. Its body glowed a metallic silver, leaving behind a silvery streak of energy as an obscenely powerful Bullet Punch struck the pidgeot.
The pidgeot cried out in pain but managed to continue the Heat Wave. Blazing wind enveloped the area, creating a fiery vortex that was localized to our clearing. A part of me recognized the tremendous amount of control the bird must have had to not start a forest fire with that move.
The gambit paid off. All three scyther were rendered unconscious, their carapace badly scorched by the sudden onslaught. The scizor looked injured but seeing its compatriots hurt was enough to make it keep fighting.
Then the ranger released a tangrowth whose Power Whip held it in place long enough for the pidgeot to get in a clean Brave Bird, ending the battle.
The ranger breathed heavily as he balled them all. He was a gruff older man in his early thirties, and judging by his team, clearly a veteran. He looked at me with a stern, admonishing glare that made me feel like I was eight years old again back in my old world's dojo.
"What the hell are you doing here, brat?" he demanded.
"Going to Rustboro from Petalburg, sir," I said respectfully. He'd just saved our asses.
"Well you're lucky my pidgeot and I saw your flaaffy flashing like a lighthouse. Don't you read your pokenav? You should have gotten word of an emergency notice. The route's closed."
I looked down at my pokemon. Durvasa stared down at the ground guiltily. I pulled out my pokenav and presented it to the ranger, cracked glass and all. "It broke two days ago, sir. The speakers are shot."
He let out a tired sigh. "Damn it, just what I need. You got some real shit luck there. Alright, kid. I'm going to fly you back to the ranger camp for now."
"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."
"Dominic Acosta, ranger sergeant, kid. Name, trainer ID, and badge?"
"Aaron Fulan. Trainer ID 617659, two badges, sir," I said respectfully, replying by rote as we'd practiced in trainer school. Getting demanded identification by a ranger was this world's equivalent of a traffic stop for most.
"Fulan? That Fulan? What the hell are you doing out here? Don't you got some fancy psychic babble to keep you out of trouble?"
"I do," I huffed. "I'm an empath. I sensed the scizor and scyther coming, but it's no good if we can't outrun them."
"So you decided to fight them head-on," he drawled. "Like an idiot," wasn't said, but it sure as hell was heard.
I winced. It… wasn't exactly a smart move, but I stuck with my decision. I didn't know what else I could have done to improve our chances. I told him as much, but that didn't exactly make him happy for obvious reasons.
He shook his head, muttering something under his breath about idiotic kids. He then treated his pidgeot with a potion before having me return my pokemon. The damn bird grabbed me by my shoulders like a package and ferried me into the sky.
All told, I'd settle for this bit of humiliation over being dead.
X
The ranger camp was only six miles southeast of our position. The pidgeot got us there in only a few minutes even while caring for the delicate, squishy package that was yours truly.
Unlike the more popular outposts along the main road, it was made up of just two shacks and several tents and awnings. From above, I could see four other men and women in familiar, navy and burnt-orange uniforms. Several pokemon milled about, tense and ready. It was clear I'd unwittingly stepped into an operation of some sort.
As I descended, a familiar face jogged up to me
"Ranger Wheldon?" I asked, surprised to see him. Maybe I shouldn't have been. He did say he was originally stationed in Petalburg; it made sense he'd be around for an operation here.
He stroked his goatee with a puzzled expression. "Aaron? What're you doing here?"
"You know this kid, Wheldon?" Ranger Acosta grunted, more a demand than a question.
"Ah, yes, sir. I met him when I was briefly stationed in Verdanturf for the tunnel incident. He was the one who calmed down the ursaring mother I told you about."
"Really? Him?" he asked disbelievingly. "Because I just saw this kid trying to fight a scyther with a sword."
"It was all I had left," I defended myself.
"Yup, kid talked down an angry mother ursaring," Wheldon supplied. "Really, what are you doing here?"
"My pokenav broke. By the time my empathy picked up on the scizor, we weren't in any position to run."
"Yeah, you're our cacturne bait this year, huh?"
"Your what now?"
"A trouble magnet. We get one every few years, a trainer who just seems to stumble into things without meaning to."
I laughed nervously. He said it as a joke, but I wasn't entirely reassured by that. The fact that this happened often enough for rangers to have slang for trainers of that nature wasn't lost on me. Nor was the imagery: Cacturne stalked desert wanderers for days, sometimes weeks, slowly corralling them away from water until they were too weak to fight back.
It was only two events so far, the ursaring and now this. Three if I counted the tentacool, but I couldn't deny that my journey had been a bit more eventful than most. The notion that trouble waited around the perimeter for me to tire was… unpleasant.
I was probably being superstitious. Then again, considering all the bullshit of Legendary pokemon, a "destined" journey in which some kind of higher power nudged specific trainers towards certain encounters was a distinct possibility.
I knew one thing for certain: Durvasa was to never touch my pokenav.
Author's Note
I originally had a plan to give Aaron the scizorite. It's found in Petalburg Woods in ORAS. Then I decided against it in favor of giving him a new teammate.
Before the inevitable question, remember that Sharon can't path him anymore so long as Aaron holds a relic (the gardevoirite). She didn't warn him of danger as she did with the hydreigon rampage because she couldn't. Saying "There's a rampaging scizor in the forest," isn't that helpful once you consider how big the forest really is. It's a bit like saying "There's an angry bear in Yosemite National Park." Sure, of course there is. I believe you, but the odds of me running into it is pretty damn low.
Yeah, pokedex entries get pretty dark. In other news, have a botany fact: The tallest cactus ever measured was an armless Saguaro cactus at 78' tall. It fell over in 1986 unfortunately so we don't actually know if it's possible for a cactus to grow taller.
Compared to that, the cacturne's average height of 4' 3" feels kinda underwhelming, huh?
This concludes my Spoon marathon. I hope you enjoyed it. If you'd like to read more, or think I deserve a tip, please find my Pat-re-on under the same username. Even after dropping five chapters back-to-back, there are twenty-nine chapters worth of content spread across my various stories.
As of now, this is how far along each story is:
- A Colorful Life: Same as public
- A Life Worth Living: 2
- Pokemon: Apocalypse: 1.14
- The Holy Grill: 2.6.5
- Homeless Bunny: 24
- Legendary Tinker: 8.7
- Plan? What Plan?: 5.1
- When is a Spoon a Sword?: 4.13
- Troll in the Dungeon!: 21
- Let There be War: 9 (Complete)
Total Chapter Difference (Pat-re-on - Public): 29
- Artoria (Kirlia)
- Jeanne (Flaaffy)
- Durvasa (Mankey)
- Unnamed (Egg)
Fish 4.10
Aaron Fulan
Petalburg Woods
On the plus side, the twins and the Maple siblings got along great. They agreed that I was the coolest trainer their age, which did wonderful things for my ego. As a big brother, I couldn't be prouder. They spent a solid half hour geeking out over my most recent gym battle and how cool Artoria and Durvasa were.
On the downside, May and Liza got into an argument about whether coordinators or battlers were superior. Lisia did her best to mediate, her uncle was an exemplar of both after all, but kids were kids. They argued like only tween girls could, blind to every bit of reasoning.
Truthfully, I was of the opinion that they got along extremely well and were becoming fast friends. The opportunity to talk passionately about a subject they loved with a stranger was rare and I thought they understood that even if they didn't quite know how to put it into words.
Liza then adopted Max, giving him all sorts of ideas to prank his sister. The Maple house would likely get… interesting…
Then again, that wasn't my problem. Norman Maple could use some excitement in his life.
Several days later, we were camped out beneath the stars. I finally taught Jeanne her very first song. We celebrated by cracking open a fresh jar of pecha berry jam. After all, the song was a classic. It was ubiquitous. It was timeless.
'My lord, it's "Mary had a Little Lamb,"' Artoria drawled. 'Let's not make this out to be more than it is.'
'It's a classic,' I argued, more for the sake of banter than anything. 'You just don't know how to appreciate great music.'
'Will the judges agree?'
'Ehh, probably not. Still, it's a start. It's only four notes, but that's four notes she can make with static that she couldn't before.'
'Of course, my lord.'
Next to us sat Durvasa and Artoria. Durvasa had my pokenav in hand and was trying to read the script of a play, one of the old ones that described some epic battle or another. It was incredible how smart my mankey was. He'd gone from having a hard time with the alphabet to reading historical plays.
Oh, he wasn't fluent, but he could slowly sound out the words. He ran his little finger under each letter, picking out the sounds in his head until he got a word he could understand. It took him ages to read a single page, but speed and comfort would come with time.
Not for the first time, I wondered if pokemon had some innate blessings when it came to learning languages. It wouldn't surprise me: Arceus was a god who made the power of friendship a tangible force in his universe. By default, it kind of necessitated a need for communication.
And yet, he grew frustrated. He was like a painter who'd taken an interest in engineering. A painter might love architecture from an aesthetic perspective, but he simply lacked the background to fully comprehend the design principles an engineer had to consider.
In Durvasa's case, the problem was that he'd never had to learn anything except fighting. And learning to fight was easy. It came instinctively. Motor control, positioning, and even the kind of cunning that caught my interest in the first place, it all came naturally to Durvasa. He'd never truly struggled in his pursuit of self-improvement before.
I really should have seen it coming.
"Man-MANKEY!" he roared, chucking my pokenav across the clearing. His shout of frustration caught my eye, but both Jeanne and I were too far away to catch the pokenav. It bounced against the ground with the telltale sound of cracking glass.
"Kirlia! Kir!" Artoria shouted. Her spoon lashed out so quickly that the air whistled, striking Durvasa across the face and chucking him into a tree. "Kir-Kirlia!"
I bolted to my feet before the two could really begin fighting. "ENOUGH! What the hell is wrong with you two?"
The two promptly descended into shouting. I grabbed them both and sat them in front of me. I glared at them with all the disappointment I could muster. Unfortunately, I could only hold a full conversation with one of them. Lucky me, I didn't actually have to do that.
"Artoria, that was unacceptable. You hit your teammate, the one you were supposed to be teaching, because you lost your temper," I chided. I held out a hand to shush her. "Yes, Durvasa threw my pokenav. Doesn't matter. Property can be replaced and you shouldn't have done that. You threw the first punch so apologize."
Artoria looked down at the ground with a shamefaced expression. She valued herself first and foremost as a knight. As far as she was concerned, protecting my property was part of that. No, more to the point, she considered Durvasa and Jeanne to be of similar roles, even if they didn't see themselves that way. To her, the team was a knightly order and Durvasa's behavior was unbefitting of that order.
Still, there was no denying that she'd wronged Durvasa in turn. As a kirlia, Artoria could literally taste my disappointment with her. So she swallowed her pride.
"Kirlia… Lia," she mumbled an apology. Then, louder, as she bowed.
"And you, Durvasa. You're making incredible progress," I told him. "Wasn't mastering your anger the whole point of enlightenment for you?"
"Man…"
"It's fine. Getting angry is okay. Losing control is not. You went from learning the alphabet to reading plays in such a short time. You've got nothing to be ashamed of. If anything, you learned faster than I ever did."
"Mankey. Man-mankey," he grumbled. He shuffled back and forth sheepishly. By the color of his aura, I took that to be an apology. It wasn't much of one, but it'd do.
"You're doing well. It's okay to take a break when you get too frustrated. Yes, the internet has a lot of information, but it's not going anywhere. In fact, it's growing constantly. Take your time, Durvasa, it'll be here when you're fluent."
"Mankey…"
Jeanne trotted over. In her hands was the pokenav he threw. She offered it to me with a soft bleat. I reached over and pet her, her soft wool did a lot to relax me.
Fight averted for now, I took the pokenav and inspected the damage. The screen now sported a spider web of cracks that divided it like a pizza. I turned it back on and saw that I could still read the screen if I squinted a bit. Still, Durvasa needed to be punished somehow and the answer was obvious.
"No pokenav," I told Durvasa. "When we get to Rustboro, we'll visit a bookstore and buy some for you, but if this is what happens when you lose control, I don't want you touching delicate technology until you're comfortable with reading."
"Mankey," he nodded in resignation.
"In the meantime, you can go ahead and practice reading from the League handbook or the travel guide."
"Man."
I let them go with a sigh. Once again, I was reminded that training pokemon was a lot like raising children sometimes.
'I apologize, my lord,' Artoria whispered in my mind, a wave of regret flowing from her side of the bond. 'I should have recognized his mounting frustration and cut the session short.'
'It's fine, Artoria,' I said. I picked her up and dragged her onto my lap. 'Durvasa's always got a curtain of irritation around him. I know it's hard to tell exactly what he's feeling through it.'
'Still, I did not think he would lash out like a child.'
'Which of you barfed all over my shirt after overeating again?'
'...'
I ran my fingers through Artoria's green locks. 'It's fine, Artoria. You're young. You're allowed to be childish. I doubt Durvasa will do this again; he's the kind of martial artist who takes a lot of pride in self-discipline.'
'Indeed, my lord. He will chastise himself.'
'As do you. I seldom have to discipline you either. You're not too different from one another, you know'
'Perhaps…'
I chatted with Artoria and fiddled absently with the broken pokenav. The screen still worked, sort of, but it obscured enough that I'd need a new model. I also found that the audio stopped working as well, which meant no music or notifications from the chatroom. Unfortunate, but I put it out of mind seeing how Lisia would be in Rustboro in a few days anyway.
The real problem with the broken audio was that Jeanne no longer had notes to compare herself to. It wasn't the end of the world, but the flaaffy shot Durvasa annoyed looks nonetheless.
X
We were still in the woods two days later when Jeanne stopped. Her ears flickered to and fro, listening anxiously. Durvasa quickly followed. It was only then that I realized the woods had grown unusually silent.
"Flaaf," Jeanne bleated, voice tinged with worry.
"What's going on? Do you hear anything?" I asked her. Next to me, Artoria brandished her spoon, ready to take on all comers.
Then it hit. A wave of unbridled rage that put Durvasa's entire pack to shame struck Artoria and I like a tangible force. Raw anger was the primary emotion, but there was also grief and regret too, contempt and scorn like I'd never felt before. So strong was this empathic wave that I didn't even need to meditate to pinpoint their locations.
"Four incoming. DUCK!" I shouted.
I put words to deed and dropped to the floor haphazardly. Next to me, Artoria, Durvasa, and Jeanne did the same, and just in time to see four figures blitz past us at speeds that would rival cars on the freeway. I saw a streak of red followed by three, forest-green figures. A tree collapsed at their passing and a flying branch narrowly clipped my shoulder.
I rolled to my feet to find arguably the worst possible scenario: Three scyther surrounded us, led by a particularly pissed off scizor. I didn't need to be an empath to see the blood-boiling wrath in its eyes. It looked like it was a second away from killing us all.
The three scyther looked younger judging by the light green of their carapace, but that didn't make them any less dangerous. They lashed out at their surroundings, only to zero in on us. On me. They saw me and their wings buzzed ominously as they got ready to lunge.
Fuck trying to talk things out. I did what came to me first. "Jeanne! Flash!"
Strictly speaking, it wasn't a move Jeanne had in her arsenal, but it could be said that this was the move that best encapsulated her personality. It was her ambition, to outshine the sun. She didn't need a TM to know how to turn up the lumens.
I snatched Durvasa and Jeanne and tucked them under my arms before diving to the side. I was just in time, evading a scyther's arcing blow by the skin of my teeth. They continued to lash out wildly, carving deep furroughs into the trees and boulders nearby. I quickly ducked behind a log and mentally called out to Artoria to teleport to my side; so long as we had our empathic bond, she wouldn't lose my position.
"Durvasa, protect Jeanne. Jeanne, Shock Wave. Focus down the scyther," I rattled off. "Artoria, keep the scizor busy. Spam Teleport."
Those two seconds were all we had before the scizor let out a commanding noise that was halfway between a bark and a buzz. It brandished its crimson claws and lashed out at the nearby tree, smashing through the trunk like a wrecking ball. Its voice was enough to get the three scyther into some semblance of order.
Before they could fully gather themselves, Jeanne struck. She laid down an Electric Terrain that made the hair on my arms stand on end. Then she popped out from behind the log, a large ball of electricity sparking between her palms.
I thought that if we could keep the scizor busy somehow, we could abuse Jeanne's type advantage to slowly whittle down the three scyther. Assuming these were wild pokemon, they ought to be at about the same strength as my pokemon, perhaps a bit stronger. In that scenario, Jeanne would be my ace in the hole so long as she could keep her distance.
Unfortunately, there was jack-shit I could do about the scizor except trust that Artoria had this. A dozen different half-formed thoughts flashed between us, our consistent intimacy the only reason we could communicate at all. She vanished in a spark of blue light; she knew what she had to do.
The nearest scyther screeched in pain as the Electro Ball struck its head. Jeanne was holding nothing back. Scyther weren't natural predators, not like the ursaring, but she damn well knew what was at stake.
That was when its two compatriots struck. They buzzed menacingly and I knew before they even began to move that I'd made a mistake: Durvasa wouldn't be enough to guard Jeanne while she sniped them down. Flying types still had the edge on him. He struggled against a taillow. A pair of heavier, stronger, and presumably more experienced, at the very least more aggressive, scyther would quickly overwhelm my little sage.
Again, my body moved before I could fully put my thoughts together. The blunted katana scraped ominously against one scyther's claw. I grunted with exertion; it was all I could do to hold back a single scythe. When it swung with the other, I was forced to step back; even trying to parry one of those was dangerous.
We weren't good enough. I'd hoped that Jeanne could knock out one scyther before all three could rush us, but that proved to be too much to ask for. It was hurt badly, but it continued on with a steadfast resolve that would have been impressive had said resolve not been to disembowel us all.
Jeanne released another Flash without prompting, catching the three scyther. Durvasa and I avoided it because we were facing away from her. That caused the scyther to flinch in pain and we took advantage of that to the best of our abilities.
I rained down blows with bone-breaking force, but the scyther's thick carapace deflected the katana handily. It flailed wildly, lashing out with random sweeps of its scythe-arms. It was fast, faster than I could dodge. I managed to slide one scythe off the back of my sword but was forced to backpedal as fast as I could, almost losing an eye for my trouble.
I didn't know how long we fought like that. It couldn't have been very long but it felt like forever. We reached an uneasy equilibrium: Durvasa and I would get pushed back by the three scyther and Jeanne would Flash, buying us a few seconds of reprieve. Whether Artoria got taken down by the scizor or Jeanne could bring down the three scyther first would determine our immediate chances of survival.
"Pidgeot! Wing Attack!" I heard above me.
The screech of a fully evolved raptor filled the sky as a white blur streaked between two scyther, crashing into them with a glowing wing each. One of them, the one Jeanne had been working over, fainted immediately, while the other crumpled to the ground but still attempted to rise.
At the same time, a figure dropped down ten feet or so from the air, rolling over his shoulder and rising to his feet in a practiced roll. He wore a ranger's fatigues and I felt an immediate sense of relief; we wouldn't be dying today.
"Withdraw!" I shouted as I hurried back to Jeanne's side. "To me!"
Durvasa grunted in pain but hurried to obey. Even from a cursory glance, I could tell he'd need healing. Just the two minutes or so of combat had worn out my team to this extent. In a flash of light, Artoria teleported to my position. She was sporting a massive bruise over her left eye and her skirt was torn, leaving a line of red from the scizor's Metal Claw.
The ranger responded immediately. He saw that my pokemon were out of the way and cleaned up as quickly as he could. "Heat Wave!"
"Pidgeoo!" the raptor cried, stretching out its eight foot wingspan. Motes of crimson light gathered around its wings.
Then, just as the pidgeot began to release that torrent of heat, the scizor struck. "Sci-ZOR!"
The air cracked with its passing, not unlike the sound of an elk hunting rifle. Its body glowed a metallic silver, leaving behind a silvery streak of energy as an obscenely powerful Bullet Punch struck the pidgeot.
The pidgeot cried out in pain but managed to continue the Heat Wave. Blazing wind enveloped the area, creating a fiery vortex that was localized to our clearing. A part of me recognized the tremendous amount of control the bird must have had to not start a forest fire with that move.
The gambit paid off. All three scyther were rendered unconscious, their carapace badly scorched by the sudden onslaught. The scizor looked injured but seeing its compatriots hurt was enough to make it keep fighting.
Then the ranger released a tangrowth whose Power Whip held it in place long enough for the pidgeot to get in a clean Brave Bird, ending the battle.
The ranger breathed heavily as he balled them all. He was a gruff older man in his early thirties, and judging by his team, clearly a veteran. He looked at me with a stern, admonishing glare that made me feel like I was eight years old again back in my old world's dojo.
"What the hell are you doing here, brat?" he demanded.
"Going to Rustboro from Petalburg, sir," I said respectfully. He'd just saved our asses.
"Well you're lucky my pidgeot and I saw your flaaffy flashing like a lighthouse. Don't you read your pokenav? You should have gotten word of an emergency notice. The route's closed."
I looked down at my pokemon. Durvasa stared down at the ground guiltily. I pulled out my pokenav and presented it to the ranger, cracked glass and all. "It broke two days ago, sir. The speakers are shot."
He let out a tired sigh. "Damn it, just what I need. You got some real shit luck there. Alright, kid. I'm going to fly you back to the ranger camp for now."
"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."
"Dominic Acosta, ranger sergeant, kid. Name, trainer ID, and badge?"
"Aaron Fulan. Trainer ID 617659, two badges, sir," I said respectfully, replying by rote as we'd practiced in trainer school. Getting demanded identification by a ranger was this world's equivalent of a traffic stop for most.
"Fulan? That Fulan? What the hell are you doing out here? Don't you got some fancy psychic babble to keep you out of trouble?"
"I do," I huffed. "I'm an empath. I sensed the scizor and scyther coming, but it's no good if we can't outrun them."
"So you decided to fight them head-on," he drawled. "Like an idiot," wasn't said, but it sure as hell was heard.
I winced. It… wasn't exactly a smart move, but I stuck with my decision. I didn't know what else I could have done to improve our chances. I told him as much, but that didn't exactly make him happy for obvious reasons.
He shook his head, muttering something under his breath about idiotic kids. He then treated his pidgeot with a potion before having me return my pokemon. The damn bird grabbed me by my shoulders like a package and ferried me into the sky.
All told, I'd settle for this bit of humiliation over being dead.
X
The ranger camp was only six miles southeast of our position. The pidgeot got us there in only a few minutes even while caring for the delicate, squishy package that was yours truly.
Unlike the more popular outposts along the main road, it was made up of just two shacks and several tents and awnings. From above, I could see four other men and women in familiar, navy and burnt-orange uniforms. Several pokemon milled about, tense and ready. It was clear I'd unwittingly stepped into an operation of some sort.
As I descended, a familiar face jogged up to me
"Ranger Wheldon?" I asked, surprised to see him. Maybe I shouldn't have been. He did say he was originally stationed in Petalburg; it made sense he'd be around for an operation here.
He stroked his goatee with a puzzled expression. "Aaron? What're you doing here?"
"You know this kid, Wheldon?" Ranger Acosta grunted, more a demand than a question.
"Ah, yes, sir. I met him when I was briefly stationed in Verdanturf for the tunnel incident. He was the one who calmed down the ursaring mother I told you about."
"Really? Him?" he asked disbelievingly. "Because I just saw this kid trying to fight a scyther with a sword."
"It was all I had left," I defended myself.
"Yup, kid talked down an angry mother ursaring," Wheldon supplied. "Really, what are you doing here?"
"My pokenav broke. By the time my empathy picked up on the scizor, we weren't in any position to run."
"Yeah, you're our cacturne bait this year, huh?"
"Your what now?"
"A trouble magnet. We get one every few years, a trainer who just seems to stumble into things without meaning to."
I laughed nervously. He said it as a joke, but I wasn't entirely reassured by that. The fact that this happened often enough for rangers to have slang for trainers of that nature wasn't lost on me. Nor was the imagery: Cacturne stalked desert wanderers for days, sometimes weeks, slowly corralling them away from water until they were too weak to fight back.
It was only two events so far, the ursaring and now this. Three if I counted the tentacool, but I couldn't deny that my journey had been a bit more eventful than most. The notion that trouble waited around the perimeter for me to tire was… unpleasant.
I was probably being superstitious. Then again, considering all the bullshit of Legendary pokemon, a "destined" journey in which some kind of higher power nudged specific trainers towards certain encounters was a distinct possibility.
I knew one thing for certain: Durvasa was to never touch my pokenav.
Author's Note
I originally had a plan to give Aaron the scizorite. It's found in Petalburg Woods in ORAS. Then I decided against it in favor of giving him a new teammate.
Before the inevitable question, remember that Sharon can't path him anymore so long as Aaron holds a relic (the gardevoirite). She didn't warn him of danger as she did with the hydreigon rampage because she couldn't. Saying "There's a rampaging scizor in the forest," isn't that helpful once you consider how big the forest really is. It's a bit like saying "There's an angry bear in Yosemite National Park." Sure, of course there is. I believe you, but the odds of me running into it is pretty damn low.
Yeah, pokedex entries get pretty dark. In other news, have a botany fact: The tallest cactus ever measured was an armless Saguaro cactus at 78' tall. It fell over in 1986 unfortunately so we don't actually know if it's possible for a cactus to grow taller.
Compared to that, the cacturne's average height of 4' 3" feels kinda underwhelming, huh?
This concludes my Spoon marathon. I hope you enjoyed it. If you'd like to read more, or think I deserve a tip, please find my Pat-re-on under the same username. Even after dropping five chapters back-to-back, there are twenty-nine chapters worth of content spread across my various stories.
As of now, this is how far along each story is:
- A Colorful Life: Same as public
- A Life Worth Living: 2
- Pokemon: Apocalypse: 1.14
- The Holy Grill: 2.6.5
- Homeless Bunny: 24
- Legendary Tinker: 8.7
- Plan? What Plan?: 5.1
- When is a Spoon a Sword?: 4.13
- Troll in the Dungeon!: 21
- Let There be War: 9 (Complete)
Total Chapter Difference (Pat-re-on - Public): 29
here's an idea, if we're gonna be doing Thoramin music with pokemon in place of tesla coils, why not go all the way, aim for the stars and all that, show up to that grand conference finale with Through the Fire and the Flames, work our way up from mary had a little lamb to highspeed intense music, don't just invent a new genre of music, set a world record in that genre
SanguisAnima
Σ Series Z10/0 Group A 4A-GELU Mk1
- Location
- nowhere important
That'll be excellent for a finale. What about opening with "Warriors Of The World United" by Manowar?
Connelly
As useless as a penguin with mittens
- Location
- Salamanca, Spain
Artoria and Jeanne are a delight, and is amusing to see Durvasa trying to swim against the currents. I admit I'm not a fan of the insert elements, and anything calling attention makes my eyes roll, but everything else is entertaining enough, so I'm not even mad.
Something that I've found funny (though 1, absolutely might not have any real correlation to the author's intention, and 2, reading gameplay mechanics into a story is highest folly to begin with so all this is automatically a very pants-on-head silly thing to do), given that I'm LTTP'ing to the gens 3 and 4 for the very first time and I'm fresh on some mechanics, is that it doesn't seem like Sharon bothered to select and/or train Alice and Quinn because of their natures, like a competitive player who breed, diet, and train their mons would. To absolutely no detriment to their effectiveness.
I'm not sure what nature to pin on Quinn. Brave and adamant are too vague to define here. Gentle and modest aren't apparently the proffered nature for gallades, but he does seem to act those a bit. And interestingly, either one would empathize his more mental side instead of the physical. I won't speculate much more on that because there's not a lot to read in the text other than his quirk of using Shadow Sneak instead of Teleport.
Alice is the outlier here. She's, well, clearly she's a goddamn riot, and not modest at all, the nature that seems people prefer for gardevoirs (to push their special attack and only loosing physical attack). In fact, none of the natures suited to improve special attacks fit her. You could say she's either bold, sassy, or impish. Or, more possibly, naughty. Any of those three first natures would imply... *checks nature chart* that she might be the tank of the duo, with bold and impish improving physical defense, and sassy special. And she does hold her own for a bit in that fight.
But naughty favors physical attack in detriment of special defense. A handicap in any other gardevoir, and it fits the way she acts like a damn glove. If you think about it and how it doesn't stop Sharon in what she feels expected to treat as effectively a top-of-the-top class battle from using Alice, and Alice from kicking ass, I'd say that makes the three of them doubly terrifying, and you gotta wonder what flavor of horrific yet unexpected stompiness Alphonse would be.
Something that I've found funny (though 1, absolutely might not have any real correlation to the author's intention, and 2, reading gameplay mechanics into a story is highest folly to begin with so all this is automatically a very pants-on-head silly thing to do), given that I'm LTTP'ing to the gens 3 and 4 for the very first time and I'm fresh on some mechanics, is that it doesn't seem like Sharon bothered to select and/or train Alice and Quinn because of their natures, like a competitive player who breed, diet, and train their mons would. To absolutely no detriment to their effectiveness.
I'm not sure what nature to pin on Quinn. Brave and adamant are too vague to define here. Gentle and modest aren't apparently the proffered nature for gallades, but he does seem to act those a bit. And interestingly, either one would empathize his more mental side instead of the physical. I won't speculate much more on that because there's not a lot to read in the text other than his quirk of using Shadow Sneak instead of Teleport.
Alice is the outlier here. She's, well, clearly she's a goddamn riot, and not modest at all, the nature that seems people prefer for gardevoirs (to push their special attack and only loosing physical attack). In fact, none of the natures suited to improve special attacks fit her. You could say she's either bold, sassy, or impish. Or, more possibly, naughty. Any of those three first natures would imply... *checks nature chart* that she might be the tank of the duo, with bold and impish improving physical defense, and sassy special. And she does hold her own for a bit in that fight.
But naughty favors physical attack in detriment of special defense. A handicap in any other gardevoir, and it fits the way she acts like a damn glove. If you think about it and how it doesn't stop Sharon in what she feels expected to treat as effectively a top-of-the-top class battle from using Alice, and Alice from kicking ass, I'd say that makes the three of them doubly terrifying, and you gotta wonder what flavor of horrific yet unexpected stompiness Alphonse would be.
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4.11 Fish
Fabled Webs
Lord Weaver, Glorious and Wise
- Location
- Arlington, VA
Aaron's Pokemon
- Artoria (Kirlia)
- Jeanne (Flaaffy)
- Durvasa (Mankey)
- Hard-Boiled (Egg)
Fish 4.11
Aaron Fulan
Petalburg Woods
I'd missed out on the evacuation notice. Now that I opened it up, I could see through a series of white lines in the glass that there was indeed a white, bell-shaped indicator in the top right corner of my screen. The speakers died so I hadn't known to check the alerts.
"Well, fuck," I swore. I turned to Ranger Wheldon. He led me to the healing machine so I could have my team treated. "So, wanna catch me up? What kinda clusterfuck did I stumble into this time?"
"Alright, sure, Aaron. I've got a bit of time before the rest of my squad comes back. You obviously know about the rampaging scizor."
"Yup."
"Well, scizor and scyther often swarm this time of year. They lay their eggs over the winter and stick around together to raise their young together, teach them how to hunt, establish the pecking order, divide up territory, that sort of thing."
"I understand." Scyther did have the Swarm ability in-game. I typically didn't think of them as pack hunters, but I clearly knew fuck-all about Petalburg's bug types. "So this is just a bad time to be traveling? Can't be, right? I mean, people travel through the woods this time of year pretty frequently."
"RIght. Scyther are aggressive, but not that aggressive. Like a lot of pokemon, they're omnivores, but they know to stay away from the main roads. You occasionally get a few young ones that stray away and want to prove themselves, but they're not too bad. Usually, it's seen as a good thing by the locals because it's a chance to catch a rare bug type without any fuss from the rest of the swarm."
"So what changed then?"
"Poachers, and not just one or two idiots either. They were organized, a full gang of eight as far as we could tell. We're still trying to figure out just what the hell they did, but they were spotted in the area and the group of scizor that like to oversee the swarm around this time of year got really agitated."
"You think they started poaching baby scyther?"
"Maybe. Or killed a few. Either way, the swarm's not in any mood to be pacified."
I thought about what could have happened with the ursaring. I wasn't Steve Irwin,, or whatever the poke-world equivalent of him was. I hadn't been the one to pacify the ursaring; her cub had done the job for me.
It sounded as though the swarm didn't mind a few stragglers leaving the forest. That said, their attitude obviously changed a great deal when people started poaching from the swarm directly. And now they were tearing up the forest looking for poachers, and damn whoever else gets in the way.
"So what happens now?" I asked as my pokemon were handed back to me.
They fought well. They obeyed orders quickly, made good snap decisions, and had it just been three scyther, I would have felt comfortable betting money on them coming out on top.
However, with several scizor running round, and those were quite experienced, I had no trouble admitting how outgunned my team was here.
Another ranger, her name tag identified her as Kylie Gable, strolled over. She was a brunette with a heavily freckled face, slightly younger than Wheldon. At her side flew two swellow and an altaria.
"Now you get the hell out of dodge, kid. The poachers scattered into smaller teams of two to try and lose us," she said with a frown. She shoved a map in my hand. "See this? This is the cordon we're working with. We're going to fly you out of the area. If you're smart, you'll walk around the perimeter to Rustboro, or back to Petalburg."
"Gable's a grump, but she's not wrong," Wheldon said. "Sorry, Aaron, I wish I could escort you completely out of the forest myself, but we're a bit short-staffed as it is."
I waved him off. "That's fine, Ranger Wheldon. I should be able to steer clear of trouble."
"Paul, kid. You're not in the corps so it's just Paul. Just make sure to keep an eye on your pokenav in case the situation changes. I still have your number from last time we met."
"Thanks, Paul. Good luck with the poachers."
"Yeah, I'm not looking forward to this. Looks like a few all-nighters are in our future," he said with a huff. "They'll be going away for a long time when we're through with them."
After that, Ranger Gable flew me off on her altaria, about half a mile away from the cordon. The cordon was a loosely established perimeter patrolled by various rangers and their pokemon, allowing them to slowly choke inward to find the poachers who were thought to still be in the area. Or, if that failed, to subdue the rampaging pokemon before they got loose.
Ranger Gable flew off with a final warning to keep a weather eye out. Rather than train on the road, I decided that having Durvasa up ahead, climbing the treetops to subtly scout the forest was a good move. With Jeanne at my side sniffing the air and Artoria and I expanding our senses, we were as attentive as we could possibly be as we made our way towards Rustboro City.
And yet, I couldn't quite shake the ominous feeling that Paul was right. Maybe I was the cacturne bait this year.
X
Two days later, I had my confirmation. I'd have to have a chat with mom whenever I made it out of the forest about potential premonitions because I found the poachers. Or, one of their teams.
The area the rangers were operating in was over a hundred square miles. Having flying types helped, but I had to assume these men had at least a few pokemon geared towards stealth. The scyther swarm causing a ruckus, probably didn't help matters either. In the end, how they got past the cordon wasn't as important as the fact that they were here now.
On the plus side, they hadn't noticed us. Durvasa found their camp purely by luck while he swung from tree to tree. Artoria and I almost stumbled on them before my mankey captured Artoria's attention to warn us away.
I'd been correct to assume some kind of stealth. The camp was a basic setup with a firepit, and two tents occupied by a man each. They had a pair of hammerspace backpacks and a duffel bag. They sat around the fire, casually chatting over dinner. They were doing a great job of blending into the scenery. By all appearances, they looked no different from a pair of regular backpackers.
Except, the camp itself was surrounded by a shroud of dark type energy let off by two of their pokemon, a liepard and skuntank. It wasn't enough to create a "void" in mine or Artoria's senses, but our perceptions were muffled. Without Durvasa telling us explicitly where the camp was, we would not have noticed them at all. That stealth field was enough to make me suspicious.
Durvasa stuck around above the treetops and relayed the conversation these men were having. They were indeed poachers. None of them had access to wide-area teleporters, which was the main reason they were reliant on dark types. That, and it was possible to track psychic residue; a poacher using a powerful psychic was exactly the kind of scenario that would bring mom down personally, something they obviously didn't want.
From what I could gather, they seemed like an organized operation, with a clear plan to meet up at an unknown rendezvous point in four days' time. Until then, these junior members of the gang had orders to make like typical travelers and wander through the forest at a leisurely pace to throw off pursuit.
Since the hammerspace bags didn't react well with pokeballs that already had pokemon inside, I could assume the captured pokemon, some scyther but many other denizens of the forest, were held inside the duffel bag next to the men.
Alongside the aforementioned liepard and skuntank, these men also had a nuzleaf out, though I didn't know if there might be more in reserve.
I gathered my team and withdrew a few hundred yards away before I could really push my luck. We made sure to remain downwind from them so as to not alert their pokemon and avoided lighting a fire.
"So, poachers," I began in a somber voice. "I really hadn't expected to run into them. What are the odds?"
"Man-mankey," Durvasa growled. I didn't need to be an empath to know he was itching for a fight. It wasn't lost on anyone that our most recent near-death experience had been the fault of the poachers.
'These cowards provoke opponents they fear to face, only to leave good men to clean up their messes,' Artoria whispered darkly.
"It's a smokescreen. The poachers stir up as much chaos as they can because that leaves the rangers short-handed to pursue them."
"Mankey? Mankey-man."
'He believes we should arrest them, my lord.'
'Somehow, I doubt he said "arrest,"' I replied dryly.
'His exact words were "Let's go use the plant-thing to club the others silly," but I fail to see the distinction.'
'I take it you want to fight too?'
'I admit I wish to bring these knaves to justice.'
I'd expected as much. I passed out some jerky, dried berries, and granola to my non-grass-eating teammates. No fire meant we'd just have to settle. "Durvasa wants to feed them their teeth. Artoria's the same. How about you, Jeanne? What do you think we should do?"
"Flaaa…" she bleated, head tilted to the side. Shecontinued to chew her cud slowly. "Flaaffy?"
"Kir-lia. Kirlia," Artoria trilled.
The two went back and forth, until finally, Jeanne looked at me and shrugged. Rather than getting up in arms, she did the opposite: She flopped onto her belly and snuggled into my sleeping bag.
"I take it she doesn't care?"
'She is livid. She does not appreciate being forced to fight scyther,' Artoria said. She frowned in distaste. 'And yet… My sister is of the opinion that the past is past. Entering yet another life or death battle today will not right their wrongs. She suggests that we simply go to sleep for now.'
'She's not wrong, you know. We ought to just go to sleep for now. Hell, we could even leave tomorrow and part ways, never having to fight them at all.'
'But that would mean abandoning the pokemon they'd captured already.'
'Who said anything about abandoning them? I do have Paul's number, you know.'
'I… I had not considered that, my lord. Even so, such a course of action feels unsatisfying. I understand that they are the lawful authorities, but…'
"But you want to do your part," I finished for her, voicing aloud her desire for my team to hear. "You want to make sure they return the pokemon and see them brought to justice with your own two hands, even if I could just report the sighting to the rangers."
"Mankey," Durvasa nodded with conviction even as his aura blazed to life. "Mankey-man. Key."
'He notes that they will not be here tomorrow, my lord. They escaped the rangers before.'
My pokemon had a point. And yet, I felt that they were not thinking correctly. Perhaps, with some luck, this could be a teachable moment.
"You bring up some valid points," I acknowledged. "Let me ask you both one important question then: What is the objective?"
The two most battle-hungry members of my team looked at each other in confusion. Meanwhile, Jeanne looked up briefly from my lap and bleated out her encouragement before promptly going back to dozing.
For all that she seemed lazy, perhaps even stupid, Jeanne was anything but. Sometimes, I felt that she understood the way my brain worked best, even better than Artoria in some ways.
"Well?" I asked. "What is the goal here? Fighting without an objective is no good, eh? So tell me what you want out of this. Do you want to get some payback on the poachers for siccing the scyther on us? Or do you want to arrest them so they never do this again?"
'The latter of course,' Artoria said in my mind. At the same time, Durvasa let out his own grunt of agreement.
"Right. If our priority is to get these men arrested, who do you think will have a better chance at accomplishing this objective successfully? Us or the rangers?" They looked at me with pinched faces, like children who had discovered sour candy for the first time. "Don't be like that. You're not entirely wrong either. For a start, like you pointed out, they've escaped the rangers before."
"Man! Mankey!"
"Yup. It could be a good idea to keep an eye on them ourselves. But, we also don't know how many pokemon they have so taking them head on isn't a good idea either, especially since we can't count on Ranger Acosta's pidgeot coming in to save the day again. I believe in us, but that doesn't mean I want to do something stupid for shits and giggles.
"So here's what we'll do: Tonight, we're going to sleep," I said. I held out a hand to forestall their protests. "Tomorrow, we're going to track them. Every hour, on the hour, I'm going to shoot Ranger Wheldon a text, describing our location. I don't know how short-staffed they are or how many resources they can dedicate to backing us up, especially since they've got to calm down the wild pokemon, but it shouldn't be long before we have help on the way. Then and only then will we engage. Are we clear?"
It wasn't well-received, but that was to be expected. A good compromise left all parties dissatisfied.
Even so, I wasn't budging. I could recognize that this was a part of my duty as a trainer. Hell, had I more badges, there was a real possibility the rangers would have deputized me then and there. But though I wasn't heartless, I wasn't in any rush to risk my team against opponents I had barely any intelligence on.
X
Morning came and we were ready to keep an eye on the men. I wasn't an expert tracker, but I didn't need to be. Durvasa stuck to them like glue, and as one of Petalburg Wood's natural denizens, he went entirely overlooked in his place in the treetops.
Though we couldn't grab an empathic hold on the men thanks to their dark types, Durvasa himself acted like a piece of mental reflective tape; both Artoria and I were quite familiar with his emotional signature after all.
As we moved, I texted Paul Wheldon, hoping to gauge what the rangers were up to.
Aaron: Paul? Good morning. I found one of the camps. From what the my mankey overheard, they're two of the poachers you're looking for.
Paul: You speak pokemon now?
Aaron: Artoria does and she's telepathic.
Paul: Ah, I see. Where? You didn't sneak back through the cordon, did you?
Aaron: I did not. We're off northeast of the cordon, from where Ranger Gable dropped us off. Is there a way to track this pokenav? I don't have internet service at the moment.
Paul: I don't have a porygon anyway.
That made me pause. What did a porygon have to do with anything? I asked and got my answer: They could, by following the network, track my pokenav. It wasn't very helpful for a ranger in the wilderness, but it was an option in areas closer to urban centers.
Apparently, a global positioning system (GPS) didn't exist in the pokemon world. It wasn't for a lack of technological advancement or background knowledge either; these guys had teleport pads and hammerspace bags. Rather, they never saw the need for a GPS.
And why would they? They had pokemon for that sort of thing. In theory, a GPS could track someone just as well if not better than a mightyena, but that would involve a comprehensive space program and a network of satellites that constantly transmitted radio waves in the background. It would also depend on the lack of interference, such as weather or just an ornery pokemon in the area.
And with Hoenn being the only league with a nationally subsidized space program, there was simply no practical way to launch a network of GPS satellites to even get it all running in the first place.
Aaron: What do we do then? I'm following them. My mankey's got eyes on them. Should I wait for night and take their pokeballs?
Paul: NO! Do NOT engage! You have two badges, Aaron. For fucks sake, please wait for us.
Aaron: You can't track me though.
Paul: We can! We have bird pokemon who can keep up from where we dropped you off. Are you in danger right now?
Aaron: No, or I wouldn't be texting.
Paul: Alright, fine. Keep an eye on them. Their leader's got a strong ninetales and we're trying to keep it from setting fire to the forest. We'll dispatch someone your way as soon as we can. Until then, don't engage. If you're discovered, run.
Aaron: I'll try.
So that was the end of that. I continued to report back every half hour, leaving behind bright, sky-blue trail markers with little imprints in the shape of pink and yellow Mind Badges taped to tree trunks.
We followed the two men for hours, fully aware that we were getting a bit off-road and away from Rustboro. We occasionally allowed them to head out further, so long as they were within Durasa's line of sight and Durvasa remained within Artoria's mental field of awareness. All told, they maintained an average of a half a mile of distance ahead of us.
At about two or three in the afternoon, Durvasa reported via Artoria that the men had stopped. That struck me as odd; they'd even taken their lunches on the move, no doubt in a hurry to escape the rangers. Them being poachers, I had a sinking suspicion as to the cause.
As we approached, more information trickled in. I was right: They'd encountered a small family of rare pokemon that they considered worth stopping for. They'd intentionally ignored all pokemon they encountered in favor of maintaining a good pace out of the forest but seemed willing to make a delay if the prize was worthwhile.
'Any clue what species the pokemon are?' I asked Artoria. We immediately began to pick up our pace.
'One moment, my lord,' she said. Then a hazy impression filtered through our bond.
It was like a hazy photograph, taken from above and behind the poachers, as if the viewer stood hidden beneath the canopy. The image wasn't perfect, translated as it was from Durvasa's perspective, but I could see clearly enough.
Four, quadrupedal pokemon stood against the poachers. They were easy to recognize: Pale, creamy skin, sauropod body shapes, and most tellingly, bright, green leaves that sprouted from their heads. These men had managed to stumble on a family of chikorita, and one that lacked a bayleef or meganium to watch over their juniors.
In their rush to get a move on, the poachers had released their liepard, skuntank, and nuzleaf, as well as a kecleon and a bird pokemon I was certain was not native to the region. I hoped those five were all they had.
The battle, if it could be called that, began and I could feel Artoria's need to get there faster.
'We cannot stand idly by, my lord,' Artoria urged.
I could guess what Durvsaa thought of the matter. He'd only stay back for so long. Durvasa had his excuse to jump in and I didn't think he'd be swayed. In the end, I had no choice: A good leader didn't give commands he knew wouldn't be followed.
Well, we were a team. For better or worse, I swore we'd face things together. If one of us dove in, we'd all be right behind him.
I balled Jeanne and handed the pokeball to my starter. She still didn't have a handle on teleporting more than herself, something about mass, but a pokeball? That was a little trick Artoria and I workshopped.
"Go. Teleport to Durvasa and coordinate together. Your mission is to draw out the battle as long as possible until the rangers arrive. Keep them from catching the chikorita and work with them if you can. I'll be right behind you," I promised.
"Kirlia!" she shouted. With a flash of light, she was gone.
Half a mile, a bit less maybe. It wasn't a long distance to sprint, but the forest didn't make things easy. I gauged that I could be there in four minutes, maybe six.
As I ran, I pulled out my pokenav and dialed Paul's number. I said I'd watch and wait, but circumstances changed. Hopefully, backup wouldn't be far behind me.
Author's Note
For those in the know, a GPS does not in fact work off of your wifi. Or your mobile network. Aaron is wrong, even while he's complaining that the pokemon world never bothered to innovate. I thought it'd be a funny nod because god knows I didn't know how a GPS worked until I had to write this.
Aaron has trail marking tape with Mind Badge patterns.
Would letting the poachers capture the chikorita have been smarter? Sure. They could have watched and waited. But that's a very un-protagonist-y thing to do. Aaron might be caturne bait, but he's sure as hell running head first into it when he can.
Thank you to all of my patrons. As many of you know, I update at least once a week. That said, I update much more frequently on Pat-re-on. If you would like to drop a tip, read my stories early, or vote in monthly polls, come and visit.
As of now, this is how far along each story is:
- A Colorful Life: Same as public
- A Life Worth Living: 2
- Homeless Bunny: 24
- Legendary Tinker: 8.7.5
- Plan? What Plan?: 5.3
- Pokemon: Apocalypse: 1.15
- The Holy Grill: 2.6.5
- Troll in the Dungeon!: 22
- When is a Spoon a Sword?: 4.14
- Let There be War: 9 (Complete)
Total Chapter Difference (Pat-re-on - Public): 28
- Artoria (Kirlia)
- Jeanne (Flaaffy)
- Durvasa (Mankey)
- Hard-Boiled (Egg)
Fish 4.11
Aaron Fulan
Petalburg Woods
I'd missed out on the evacuation notice. Now that I opened it up, I could see through a series of white lines in the glass that there was indeed a white, bell-shaped indicator in the top right corner of my screen. The speakers died so I hadn't known to check the alerts.
"Well, fuck," I swore. I turned to Ranger Wheldon. He led me to the healing machine so I could have my team treated. "So, wanna catch me up? What kinda clusterfuck did I stumble into this time?"
"Alright, sure, Aaron. I've got a bit of time before the rest of my squad comes back. You obviously know about the rampaging scizor."
"Yup."
"Well, scizor and scyther often swarm this time of year. They lay their eggs over the winter and stick around together to raise their young together, teach them how to hunt, establish the pecking order, divide up territory, that sort of thing."
"I understand." Scyther did have the Swarm ability in-game. I typically didn't think of them as pack hunters, but I clearly knew fuck-all about Petalburg's bug types. "So this is just a bad time to be traveling? Can't be, right? I mean, people travel through the woods this time of year pretty frequently."
"RIght. Scyther are aggressive, but not that aggressive. Like a lot of pokemon, they're omnivores, but they know to stay away from the main roads. You occasionally get a few young ones that stray away and want to prove themselves, but they're not too bad. Usually, it's seen as a good thing by the locals because it's a chance to catch a rare bug type without any fuss from the rest of the swarm."
"So what changed then?"
"Poachers, and not just one or two idiots either. They were organized, a full gang of eight as far as we could tell. We're still trying to figure out just what the hell they did, but they were spotted in the area and the group of scizor that like to oversee the swarm around this time of year got really agitated."
"You think they started poaching baby scyther?"
"Maybe. Or killed a few. Either way, the swarm's not in any mood to be pacified."
I thought about what could have happened with the ursaring. I wasn't Steve Irwin,, or whatever the poke-world equivalent of him was. I hadn't been the one to pacify the ursaring; her cub had done the job for me.
It sounded as though the swarm didn't mind a few stragglers leaving the forest. That said, their attitude obviously changed a great deal when people started poaching from the swarm directly. And now they were tearing up the forest looking for poachers, and damn whoever else gets in the way.
"So what happens now?" I asked as my pokemon were handed back to me.
They fought well. They obeyed orders quickly, made good snap decisions, and had it just been three scyther, I would have felt comfortable betting money on them coming out on top.
However, with several scizor running round, and those were quite experienced, I had no trouble admitting how outgunned my team was here.
Another ranger, her name tag identified her as Kylie Gable, strolled over. She was a brunette with a heavily freckled face, slightly younger than Wheldon. At her side flew two swellow and an altaria.
"Now you get the hell out of dodge, kid. The poachers scattered into smaller teams of two to try and lose us," she said with a frown. She shoved a map in my hand. "See this? This is the cordon we're working with. We're going to fly you out of the area. If you're smart, you'll walk around the perimeter to Rustboro, or back to Petalburg."
"Gable's a grump, but she's not wrong," Wheldon said. "Sorry, Aaron, I wish I could escort you completely out of the forest myself, but we're a bit short-staffed as it is."
I waved him off. "That's fine, Ranger Wheldon. I should be able to steer clear of trouble."
"Paul, kid. You're not in the corps so it's just Paul. Just make sure to keep an eye on your pokenav in case the situation changes. I still have your number from last time we met."
"Thanks, Paul. Good luck with the poachers."
"Yeah, I'm not looking forward to this. Looks like a few all-nighters are in our future," he said with a huff. "They'll be going away for a long time when we're through with them."
After that, Ranger Gable flew me off on her altaria, about half a mile away from the cordon. The cordon was a loosely established perimeter patrolled by various rangers and their pokemon, allowing them to slowly choke inward to find the poachers who were thought to still be in the area. Or, if that failed, to subdue the rampaging pokemon before they got loose.
Ranger Gable flew off with a final warning to keep a weather eye out. Rather than train on the road, I decided that having Durvasa up ahead, climbing the treetops to subtly scout the forest was a good move. With Jeanne at my side sniffing the air and Artoria and I expanding our senses, we were as attentive as we could possibly be as we made our way towards Rustboro City.
And yet, I couldn't quite shake the ominous feeling that Paul was right. Maybe I was the cacturne bait this year.
X
Two days later, I had my confirmation. I'd have to have a chat with mom whenever I made it out of the forest about potential premonitions because I found the poachers. Or, one of their teams.
The area the rangers were operating in was over a hundred square miles. Having flying types helped, but I had to assume these men had at least a few pokemon geared towards stealth. The scyther swarm causing a ruckus, probably didn't help matters either. In the end, how they got past the cordon wasn't as important as the fact that they were here now.
On the plus side, they hadn't noticed us. Durvasa found their camp purely by luck while he swung from tree to tree. Artoria and I almost stumbled on them before my mankey captured Artoria's attention to warn us away.
I'd been correct to assume some kind of stealth. The camp was a basic setup with a firepit, and two tents occupied by a man each. They had a pair of hammerspace backpacks and a duffel bag. They sat around the fire, casually chatting over dinner. They were doing a great job of blending into the scenery. By all appearances, they looked no different from a pair of regular backpackers.
Except, the camp itself was surrounded by a shroud of dark type energy let off by two of their pokemon, a liepard and skuntank. It wasn't enough to create a "void" in mine or Artoria's senses, but our perceptions were muffled. Without Durvasa telling us explicitly where the camp was, we would not have noticed them at all. That stealth field was enough to make me suspicious.
Durvasa stuck around above the treetops and relayed the conversation these men were having. They were indeed poachers. None of them had access to wide-area teleporters, which was the main reason they were reliant on dark types. That, and it was possible to track psychic residue; a poacher using a powerful psychic was exactly the kind of scenario that would bring mom down personally, something they obviously didn't want.
From what I could gather, they seemed like an organized operation, with a clear plan to meet up at an unknown rendezvous point in four days' time. Until then, these junior members of the gang had orders to make like typical travelers and wander through the forest at a leisurely pace to throw off pursuit.
Since the hammerspace bags didn't react well with pokeballs that already had pokemon inside, I could assume the captured pokemon, some scyther but many other denizens of the forest, were held inside the duffel bag next to the men.
Alongside the aforementioned liepard and skuntank, these men also had a nuzleaf out, though I didn't know if there might be more in reserve.
I gathered my team and withdrew a few hundred yards away before I could really push my luck. We made sure to remain downwind from them so as to not alert their pokemon and avoided lighting a fire.
"So, poachers," I began in a somber voice. "I really hadn't expected to run into them. What are the odds?"
"Man-mankey," Durvasa growled. I didn't need to be an empath to know he was itching for a fight. It wasn't lost on anyone that our most recent near-death experience had been the fault of the poachers.
'These cowards provoke opponents they fear to face, only to leave good men to clean up their messes,' Artoria whispered darkly.
"It's a smokescreen. The poachers stir up as much chaos as they can because that leaves the rangers short-handed to pursue them."
"Mankey? Mankey-man."
'He believes we should arrest them, my lord.'
'Somehow, I doubt he said "arrest,"' I replied dryly.
'His exact words were "Let's go use the plant-thing to club the others silly," but I fail to see the distinction.'
'I take it you want to fight too?'
'I admit I wish to bring these knaves to justice.'
I'd expected as much. I passed out some jerky, dried berries, and granola to my non-grass-eating teammates. No fire meant we'd just have to settle. "Durvasa wants to feed them their teeth. Artoria's the same. How about you, Jeanne? What do you think we should do?"
"Flaaa…" she bleated, head tilted to the side. Shecontinued to chew her cud slowly. "Flaaffy?"
"Kir-lia. Kirlia," Artoria trilled.
The two went back and forth, until finally, Jeanne looked at me and shrugged. Rather than getting up in arms, she did the opposite: She flopped onto her belly and snuggled into my sleeping bag.
"I take it she doesn't care?"
'She is livid. She does not appreciate being forced to fight scyther,' Artoria said. She frowned in distaste. 'And yet… My sister is of the opinion that the past is past. Entering yet another life or death battle today will not right their wrongs. She suggests that we simply go to sleep for now.'
'She's not wrong, you know. We ought to just go to sleep for now. Hell, we could even leave tomorrow and part ways, never having to fight them at all.'
'But that would mean abandoning the pokemon they'd captured already.'
'Who said anything about abandoning them? I do have Paul's number, you know.'
'I… I had not considered that, my lord. Even so, such a course of action feels unsatisfying. I understand that they are the lawful authorities, but…'
"But you want to do your part," I finished for her, voicing aloud her desire for my team to hear. "You want to make sure they return the pokemon and see them brought to justice with your own two hands, even if I could just report the sighting to the rangers."
"Mankey," Durvasa nodded with conviction even as his aura blazed to life. "Mankey-man. Key."
'He notes that they will not be here tomorrow, my lord. They escaped the rangers before.'
My pokemon had a point. And yet, I felt that they were not thinking correctly. Perhaps, with some luck, this could be a teachable moment.
"You bring up some valid points," I acknowledged. "Let me ask you both one important question then: What is the objective?"
The two most battle-hungry members of my team looked at each other in confusion. Meanwhile, Jeanne looked up briefly from my lap and bleated out her encouragement before promptly going back to dozing.
For all that she seemed lazy, perhaps even stupid, Jeanne was anything but. Sometimes, I felt that she understood the way my brain worked best, even better than Artoria in some ways.
"Well?" I asked. "What is the goal here? Fighting without an objective is no good, eh? So tell me what you want out of this. Do you want to get some payback on the poachers for siccing the scyther on us? Or do you want to arrest them so they never do this again?"
'The latter of course,' Artoria said in my mind. At the same time, Durvasa let out his own grunt of agreement.
"Right. If our priority is to get these men arrested, who do you think will have a better chance at accomplishing this objective successfully? Us or the rangers?" They looked at me with pinched faces, like children who had discovered sour candy for the first time. "Don't be like that. You're not entirely wrong either. For a start, like you pointed out, they've escaped the rangers before."
"Man! Mankey!"
"Yup. It could be a good idea to keep an eye on them ourselves. But, we also don't know how many pokemon they have so taking them head on isn't a good idea either, especially since we can't count on Ranger Acosta's pidgeot coming in to save the day again. I believe in us, but that doesn't mean I want to do something stupid for shits and giggles.
"So here's what we'll do: Tonight, we're going to sleep," I said. I held out a hand to forestall their protests. "Tomorrow, we're going to track them. Every hour, on the hour, I'm going to shoot Ranger Wheldon a text, describing our location. I don't know how short-staffed they are or how many resources they can dedicate to backing us up, especially since they've got to calm down the wild pokemon, but it shouldn't be long before we have help on the way. Then and only then will we engage. Are we clear?"
It wasn't well-received, but that was to be expected. A good compromise left all parties dissatisfied.
Even so, I wasn't budging. I could recognize that this was a part of my duty as a trainer. Hell, had I more badges, there was a real possibility the rangers would have deputized me then and there. But though I wasn't heartless, I wasn't in any rush to risk my team against opponents I had barely any intelligence on.
X
Morning came and we were ready to keep an eye on the men. I wasn't an expert tracker, but I didn't need to be. Durvasa stuck to them like glue, and as one of Petalburg Wood's natural denizens, he went entirely overlooked in his place in the treetops.
Though we couldn't grab an empathic hold on the men thanks to their dark types, Durvasa himself acted like a piece of mental reflective tape; both Artoria and I were quite familiar with his emotional signature after all.
As we moved, I texted Paul Wheldon, hoping to gauge what the rangers were up to.
Aaron: Paul? Good morning. I found one of the camps. From what the my mankey overheard, they're two of the poachers you're looking for.
Paul: You speak pokemon now?
Aaron: Artoria does and she's telepathic.
Paul: Ah, I see. Where? You didn't sneak back through the cordon, did you?
Aaron: I did not. We're off northeast of the cordon, from where Ranger Gable dropped us off. Is there a way to track this pokenav? I don't have internet service at the moment.
Paul: I don't have a porygon anyway.
That made me pause. What did a porygon have to do with anything? I asked and got my answer: They could, by following the network, track my pokenav. It wasn't very helpful for a ranger in the wilderness, but it was an option in areas closer to urban centers.
Apparently, a global positioning system (GPS) didn't exist in the pokemon world. It wasn't for a lack of technological advancement or background knowledge either; these guys had teleport pads and hammerspace bags. Rather, they never saw the need for a GPS.
And why would they? They had pokemon for that sort of thing. In theory, a GPS could track someone just as well if not better than a mightyena, but that would involve a comprehensive space program and a network of satellites that constantly transmitted radio waves in the background. It would also depend on the lack of interference, such as weather or just an ornery pokemon in the area.
And with Hoenn being the only league with a nationally subsidized space program, there was simply no practical way to launch a network of GPS satellites to even get it all running in the first place.
Aaron: What do we do then? I'm following them. My mankey's got eyes on them. Should I wait for night and take their pokeballs?
Paul: NO! Do NOT engage! You have two badges, Aaron. For fucks sake, please wait for us.
Aaron: You can't track me though.
Paul: We can! We have bird pokemon who can keep up from where we dropped you off. Are you in danger right now?
Aaron: No, or I wouldn't be texting.
Paul: Alright, fine. Keep an eye on them. Their leader's got a strong ninetales and we're trying to keep it from setting fire to the forest. We'll dispatch someone your way as soon as we can. Until then, don't engage. If you're discovered, run.
Aaron: I'll try.
So that was the end of that. I continued to report back every half hour, leaving behind bright, sky-blue trail markers with little imprints in the shape of pink and yellow Mind Badges taped to tree trunks.
We followed the two men for hours, fully aware that we were getting a bit off-road and away from Rustboro. We occasionally allowed them to head out further, so long as they were within Durasa's line of sight and Durvasa remained within Artoria's mental field of awareness. All told, they maintained an average of a half a mile of distance ahead of us.
At about two or three in the afternoon, Durvasa reported via Artoria that the men had stopped. That struck me as odd; they'd even taken their lunches on the move, no doubt in a hurry to escape the rangers. Them being poachers, I had a sinking suspicion as to the cause.
As we approached, more information trickled in. I was right: They'd encountered a small family of rare pokemon that they considered worth stopping for. They'd intentionally ignored all pokemon they encountered in favor of maintaining a good pace out of the forest but seemed willing to make a delay if the prize was worthwhile.
'Any clue what species the pokemon are?' I asked Artoria. We immediately began to pick up our pace.
'One moment, my lord,' she said. Then a hazy impression filtered through our bond.
It was like a hazy photograph, taken from above and behind the poachers, as if the viewer stood hidden beneath the canopy. The image wasn't perfect, translated as it was from Durvasa's perspective, but I could see clearly enough.
Four, quadrupedal pokemon stood against the poachers. They were easy to recognize: Pale, creamy skin, sauropod body shapes, and most tellingly, bright, green leaves that sprouted from their heads. These men had managed to stumble on a family of chikorita, and one that lacked a bayleef or meganium to watch over their juniors.
In their rush to get a move on, the poachers had released their liepard, skuntank, and nuzleaf, as well as a kecleon and a bird pokemon I was certain was not native to the region. I hoped those five were all they had.
The battle, if it could be called that, began and I could feel Artoria's need to get there faster.
'We cannot stand idly by, my lord,' Artoria urged.
I could guess what Durvsaa thought of the matter. He'd only stay back for so long. Durvasa had his excuse to jump in and I didn't think he'd be swayed. In the end, I had no choice: A good leader didn't give commands he knew wouldn't be followed.
Well, we were a team. For better or worse, I swore we'd face things together. If one of us dove in, we'd all be right behind him.
I balled Jeanne and handed the pokeball to my starter. She still didn't have a handle on teleporting more than herself, something about mass, but a pokeball? That was a little trick Artoria and I workshopped.
"Go. Teleport to Durvasa and coordinate together. Your mission is to draw out the battle as long as possible until the rangers arrive. Keep them from catching the chikorita and work with them if you can. I'll be right behind you," I promised.
"Kirlia!" she shouted. With a flash of light, she was gone.
Half a mile, a bit less maybe. It wasn't a long distance to sprint, but the forest didn't make things easy. I gauged that I could be there in four minutes, maybe six.
As I ran, I pulled out my pokenav and dialed Paul's number. I said I'd watch and wait, but circumstances changed. Hopefully, backup wouldn't be far behind me.
Author's Note
For those in the know, a GPS does not in fact work off of your wifi. Or your mobile network. Aaron is wrong, even while he's complaining that the pokemon world never bothered to innovate. I thought it'd be a funny nod because god knows I didn't know how a GPS worked until I had to write this.
Aaron has trail marking tape with Mind Badge patterns.
Would letting the poachers capture the chikorita have been smarter? Sure. They could have watched and waited. But that's a very un-protagonist-y thing to do. Aaron might be caturne bait, but he's sure as hell running head first into it when he can.
Thank you to all of my patrons. As many of you know, I update at least once a week. That said, I update much more frequently on Pat-re-on. If you would like to drop a tip, read my stories early, or vote in monthly polls, come and visit.
As of now, this is how far along each story is:
- A Colorful Life: Same as public
- A Life Worth Living: 2
- Homeless Bunny: 24
- Legendary Tinker: 8.7.5
- Plan? What Plan?: 5.3
- Pokemon: Apocalypse: 1.15
- The Holy Grill: 2.6.5
- Troll in the Dungeon!: 22
- When is a Spoon a Sword?: 4.14
- Let There be War: 9 (Complete)
Total Chapter Difference (Pat-re-on - Public): 28
A good move for Aaron would be to release the captured Pokemon; injured or not, more allies going into battle sounds useful; I doubt the poachers fought all their captives at once.
- Location
- Wales
How to avoid being cacturne bait. Be the cacturne.
- Pronouns
- He/His/etc
You can locate things with moderate precision using the mobile network, but it only works well in dense places with lots of overlapping towers.
- Location
- Wales
I think the issue is the lack of satellites rather than network coverage. Deoxys and Rayquaza tend to put a dampener on setting up equipment in space so GPS based satnav isn't a thing. The MC is used to having a phone that's accurate to at least a 100 meters.
Something to contend with satellites is Rayquaza. Anything in the upper atmosphere is its domain. It's only partly because of Rayquaza stabilizing the weather, and by its mercy does Hoenn have a space program at all. A few machines in orbit might be fine for it, but too many, or too much space junk might cause the sky noodle to rampage.
4.12 Fish
Fabled Webs
Lord Weaver, Glorious and Wise
- Location
- Arlington, VA
Aaron's Pokemon
- Artoria (Kirlia)
- Jeanne (Flaaffy)
- Durvasa (Mankey)
- Over Easy (Egg)
Fish 4.12
Artoria
Petalburg Woods
I teleported with my sister's ball in hand and appeared next to Durvasa on the treetops. I released Jeanne at the juncture of the branches where the leaves were thickest so the light of the pokeball would be obscured as much as possible. Thankfully, the men were not paying attention to us, too focused on the chikorita below.
Jeanne looked around and immediately zeroed in on the unknown bird pokemon. It had a long neck and bill, not unlike the skarmory I occasionally saw. But rather than a skarmory's dignified armor, its feathers were a mix of white and black, with a cold, cruel gaze that made me wary. It also had a strange flap along its front that I could only call a throat-sac, possibly meant for transporting other pokemon.
For her part, Jeanne had foregone all her usual silliness in favor of a quiet glower. Though she said nothing, the air around her vibrated with power, charged by the ambient static let off from her wool.
Her tail-bulb glowed in muted colors as sparks danced along the surface, a sure sign that she'd already begun to build up some power. It was one of the first lessons my lord taught her: No matter what, every spare moment, Charge. She now did it practically unconsciously, the action as meditative for her as my kata were for me.
"What's the plan?" Durvasa grunted. He was hanging from a branch by his tail, keeping an eye out for us. "You're the boss."
I appreciated it. At the start, I'd expected to fend off constant challenges to my authority from Durvasa, but that wasn't the case. He made one serious attempt and after that seemed to respect me enough to listen. For the most part, he was a remarkably disciplined pokemon, not just for a mankey, but in general.
I also remembered what my lord said: He was devious, cunning in a way that I wasn't. Delegation was the hallmark of a good leader. So was recognizing the talents of one's subordinates.
"Our goal is twofold," I began. "Ultimately, we want the poachers defeated and captured by the rangers. To that end, our primary goal is to delay their escape for our lord and the rangers to arrive. Second, we must protect the chikorita below."
"You can strike down the humans with a Teleport," he pointed out. "That would end things quickly."
I shook my head. "The poachers were ready for psychic searchers and prepared dark type pokemon. We should proceed assuming they are prepared for such an attack."
"Then we should secure the duffel bag. And the chikorita should be a higher priority, otherwise they might take hostages."
"Thank you, I hadn't considered that."
Jeanne looked at me with concern. "Will their dark type affect you? If you can't use your best moves…"
"That shouldn't be a concern. Pokemon who can fully shut down a psychic are rare," I assured her. "These simply make it hard for me to trace them but will not inhibit my own movements."
"Good. In that case, we need to treat the chikorita as allies. The easiest way to delay the humans is to interfere with their capture of the chikorita," Durvasa said. "Who knows? They might be willing to fight with us."
I nodded. A hail of Razor Leaves spun towards the poachers, only for the skuntank to shoot them down with a gout of flames. A jet of foul-smelling fluid fired from the tip of his tail, which somehow ignited in the air to form the attack. It was the strangest use of the move I'd ever seen.
The poachers' pokemon began to surround them and the show of fire seemed to have killed their courage. The three other chikorita huddled behind the bigger one, trying to make themselves look even smaller than they were. We were out of time.
"We need to move."
Durvasa looked down for a moment before making a spot decision. "Stick to what we know. Same formation as before. Lure them in; I should be able to do something up close."
"Good enough. Jeanne!"
"On it!" my sister shouted, leaping down with an Electro Ball in hand. It narrowly clipped the bird's long legs, not doing much damage but keeping him from swooping in behind the chikorita with a Wing Attack. She paid the missed attack no mind and immediately pounded the ground, setting up an Electric Terrain.
I pushed aura into my spoon and got ready to use Reflect or Light Screen to defend my teammates. A handful of clones shimmered around Jeanne and I to obscure my movements.
Fairy aura still didn't come easily to me, I could do it, but reinforcing my spoon with it took time. In this case, I'd be the distraction here to provide my brother with the chance to land fighting type strikes against our foes.
"Shit, we've got company!" one of the poachers shouted.
"I know! They're trained," the other replied. "Look for the trainers!"
'Shock Wave the bird,' I told Jeanne telepathically. 'Get them to rush our position and trust that Durvasa will make the opening count.'
'Okay!'
Jeanne began to spark, but that didn't deter the dark types in front of us. We weren't the priority. The liepard rushed forward into a blur, tackling one of the chikorita by the shoulder and clamping down with a vicious bite. He cried out in pain as blood splattered along the grass.
Another chikorita, the biggest of them all by half, let out a warcry of his own, headbutting the liepard off his friend.
"Get up! Fight!" he cried, doing his best to rouse the others. Anger blazed around him, almost as brilliant as Durvasa's own. The kecleon fired a Psybeam at him but he dodged deftly. Rather than wait for his fellows to find their courage, he rushed the lizard pokemon before a cloud of Poison Powder blanketed a small area around him. "YOUR BLOOD WILL WET THE FOREST!"
That changed the plan somewhat. His fighting spirit was commendable, but it was blatantly obvious he wasn't trained. I had to keep him from getting jumped. I teleported up to the nuzleaf and smashed my sword into his face. It only did minimal damage, but I kept him from reinforcing his teammate.
The liepard, nuzleaf, skuntank, and foreign bird focused on me, even as the kecleon hacked and coughed in the poison. The lizard pokemon vanished into his own shadow before reappearing at his trainer's feet.
I didn't know those things could do that. Could I strike down the humans? Or would I leave my sister unguarded, only for him to intercept my blade?
I opted to hold my ground. Sticking together was the right answer. Even if it wasn't, it was too late to adjust now.
A powerful surge of electricity shot into the air, filling the glade with the scent of ozone. The bird tried to dodge but there was no running from my sister's Shock Wave.
The bird cried out in pain and I learned then that it was called bombirdier. He was scorched and singed, but still managed to climb out of range.
No matter, if he wanted to make a difference in this battle, he would have to come back down.
"Skuntank! Flamethrower! Make some mutton chops!"
The skuntank turned on a dime to obey his trainer. Fire gathered around his maw and I had a second to make a decision. Under normal circumstances, teleporting above the bird to knock it out of the fight would have been the ideal move, but…
I gave up on chasing down their aerial support in favor of protecting my sister. She remained in place, continuing to charge her electric attacks, fully confident that I would shield her. Since the bombirdier was out of range, she launched salvo after salvo, keeping the nuzleaf, liepard, and kecleon off balance with weaker but faster attacks.
I would not betray her faith in me. Psychic power bloomed along my sword. In an instant, I stood in front of her. Light Screen met Flamethrower and the noxious flames parted along the bowl of my spoon. When the torrent ended, I scattered the last of the embers with a flick of my spoon before swinging it around to point at the pokemon. The challenge couldn't be more blatant, a wordless taunt to all: Come.
It was the liepard that answered.
Darkness clad his claws as he lunged towards me with a hair-raising yowl. Assurance? Night Slash? Some other move I was unfamiliar with? It mattered not. I readied myself to parry, not because I intended to face him head-on, but because I did not wish to alert him to the ruse.
The liepard's blackened claws were inches from me when Durvasa struck with an ear-piercing screech. It wasn't quite a move like my lord wanted it to be, but the sudden shriek threw off the liepard, making him stutter for that one, crucial second. Our surprise attack left a sour taste in my mouth, it wasn't knightly, but I saw the need for it.
Durvasa struck with all the fury his species was notorious for and landed two Karate Chops, one to the back of the liepard's neck and the other over his opponent's eye. Both strikes were no doubt boosted with Focus Energy. Even as the liepard's head was wrenched to the side, his Karate Chop transitioned into Scratch.
His sharp nails found purchase on his opponent's delicate ear, tearing it to ribbons as he pulled himself up over the larger feline. The dark type had expected an easy psychic and found the single angriest pokemon in the forest instead.
Still, the liepard was a fully evolved pokemon with all the durability and resilience that implied. He spun on a dime, lashing out with long, razor-sharp claws that left black, sickle-shaped after images in the air. There was power there, a cruel, feline grace that spoke of murderous intent, but that was all he had going for him. Blind in one eye and already injured, he fought with savagery rather than skill, a savagery my teammate was eager to repay in kind.
Durvasa avoided the worst of the strikes with Detect, falling back into that floating, swaying motion that Archie the hitmonchan had taught him. Though he was forced to take a few glancing blows, he repaid each with an equally vicious Karate Chop that steadily wore down his opponent.
Where he lacked the speed to evade fully, my sword parried the claws aside. Psychic energy might be ineffective directly, but I could give my brother the opening he needed.
Until finally, he managed to grab the liepard by the tail. His muscles surged with fighting type energy as he swept the much larger opponent clear off his feet. With a roar of triumph, he hurled the liepard into a tree.
To our collective shock, the liepard wasn't down. He rose on shaky legs but the glare of raw hatred in his eyes made it clear that this wasn't over.
Jeanne was doing an excellent job of keeping the bombirdier away so we had a brief moment to breathe. I took the chance to teleport away, arriving just in time to stop the kecleon and nuzleaf from double-teaming the brave chikorita. The nuzleaf was nearly immune to Mana Edge, but that kecleon certainly wasn't.
His tongue lashed out, wrapping around my spoon. There was a sticky substance that kept me from simply shaking him off. Disgusting. I'd have to spend a few hours polishing my spoon to perfection after this.
That was fine. When he pulled me into him, claws shining with Fury Swipes, I aided him. Mana Burst cracked the earth as I used his tongue like a bungee cord, pulling me along with speed that made me a little dizzy. His eyes widened in shock before my sword found his face. The psychic energy within burst violently over his head, sending him flying away.
Showing his own training, he swerved in the air and let go of my sword. His tongue then lashed out, catching a nearby branch and using the tree to swing around in a circle, returning to his trainer's side. His beady little eyes looked at me with significantly more caution now.
That was as much time as we had before the poachers finally gave up on trying to locate our lord. "Fuck! Focus! Bombirdier, use Whirlw-"
"Gah! Would you stop that?" the bird pokemon shrieked in pain as another Shock Wave found him the moment his elevation fell. He dared not get closer lest my sister truly put him in the ground.
"Pick up the nuzleaf. Nuzleaf, use Bide!" the second poacher said. The bird obeyed, using his strange neck-sac to gather up his ally. I tried to intervene, but the chikorita had the same idea. A hail of leaves got in my way and kept me from reaching them.
The nuzleaf shone with a crimson aura, absorbing Jeanne's electric attacks. My sibling needed no other warning, stopping her anti-air assault. Instead, she turned her attention towards the skuntank, curving her strikes so that the skuntank couldn't simply shoot them down with Flamethrower.
He responded with Sludge Bomb at his trainer's orders, a rapid-fire burst of noxious poisons that did a decent job of shooting down individual missiles. He wasn't able to defend against everything and took a moderate amount of damage.
At the same time, the bird dropped the nuzleaf, sending him careening towards us. If the landing hurt, it must have been intentional because the red glow around him deepened into an ominous crimson.
"Give up and save yourself some pain," the nuzleaf sneered at the chikorita.
To my surprise, the chikorita did not flee even as its other three cohorts turned to hide. Nor did he hesitate. Somehow, he was even angrier than the average mankey; I didn't think that was possible.
He let out a roar before stamping the ground. A pulse of energy sank into the earth, summoning a spike of stone that struck the nuzleaf. "I WILL IMPALE YOU!"
No matter his enthusiasm, it was clear to me that he was not a trained combatant. His stone spike was slow and the nuzleaf had plenty of time to dodge, but he chose to block instead, catching the spike with a slight wince. The crimson aura around him flared as he lunged, ready to pay the chikorita back tenfold.
"He's using Bide! Dodge!" I yelled at my newfound ally.
I tried to intervene, only for the kecleon to recover far faster than I'd expected. He shoved me back with a Fury Swipe at my side before launching a Psybeam at Durvasa. It didn't hurt much, but it was enough to draw my attention for a split second.
Durvasa, who'd been looking to finish off the liepard, was caught by surprise. He wouldn't be able to dodge that. I had to make a choice. And between my brother and the chikorita, that was no choice at all. I vanished again in a flicker of blue, sword up to split the Psybeam. I could only watch as our newest ally took the full brunt of the nuzleaf's retaliatory strike.
The Bide-enhanced nuzleaf struck the chikorita with a victorious cry. A loud sound of something breaking rang through the clearing as the young pokemon flew through the air and into a tree. He was unfortunately nowhere near as resilient as the liepard.
"Good! Now use Rock Tomb! Herd the chikorita over here!" a poacher shouted. At first, I had no idea who he was talking to. There wasn't a single rock type here, but apparently the bird could use rock moves.
We were too late to respond and a dome of stone encased the three other chikorita, keeping them trapped. The bombirdier piled on more and more rocks, keeping them weighed down with a thick shell of stone. They could probably escape with Razor Leaf, together if not separately, but fear paralyzed them.
Their eyes went to their downed fellow and I saw not a hint of fighting spirit in them. I was filled with frustration and disappointment at their cowardice but there was nothing for me to do. Father once told me that fear was the first foe we must face and I saw the truth of his words here.
The bombirdier maintained his momentum. He turned to us with his eyes full of malice and I realized that we three were alone against these five.
"Get off the Psybeam. Shadow Sneak. Get rid of that kirlia," a poacher commanded the kecleon.
"Rock Throw. Stay out of range and bombard them. Skuntank! Support with Sludge Bomb!" the other said to their two ranged pokemon.
That got us into motion.
'Durvasa, knock the rocks away with Swift. Jeanne on the sludge. Try to find an opening to take the bird,' I thought at them. I had no idea if this was the right call and sorely wished my lord was here. Alas, I knew enough to not second-guess myself.
I stamped down my insecurities and charged forward to meet the kecleon, and nuzleaf. The liepard hung back, injured and looking for a chance to flank me as my brother had done to him. Three on one against dark types was hardly favorable to me, but they were all injured to some degree. I'd have to hold on. The barest flicker of pink light began to coalesce on my spoon.
Not enough, still not enough. I quickly disregarded the burgeoning fairy aura in favor of ghost. At least I knew how to use that.
I clashed with the kecleon as the nuzleaf ran past me, striking one of my clones with Headbutt. He tried to reorient, but I'd already skipped back from the kecleon to crack my spoon over his head. The ghost type aura flared, exploding with Mana Edge, but failed to do as much damage as I was used to.
The moment I turned my back, I felt the kecleon's claws rake against me, tearing the back of my dress. I grit my teeth in pain but forced myself to step forward anyway to continue attacking the nuzleaf. I could feel each claw distinctly, the touch of ghost type aura leaving a trail of cold flames down my back. It raked at my mind, a constant distraction that threatened to dispel the gathered aura.
The nuzleaf took that chance and used Payback. Black aura coated his body before he lunged for my throat. He batted my spoon aside with one hand as the other crashed into my cheek. The darkness flooded into my mind. It threatened to overwhelm me. For a moment, the glow of aura around my weapon faded as my vision was filled with stars.
I dug in my heels and turned with the blow as my lord taught me. With the kecleon behind me, I could not step back. The kecleon was dangerous. The chikorita had poisoned him and he'd taken a full Mana Edge from me, but he was still fighting as though uninjured. I sidestepped around the nuzleaf and stomped forward, swinging the pommel of my sword upward in a close-range uppercut that left a weeping cut in the nuzleaf's chin. I couldn't allow them to flank me again.
The nuzleaf fought like a berserker. There was no form or discipline to his actions. He knew moves, a fair few like Payback, Razor Leaf, and Bide, but had little in the way of technique. I felt humiliated, being pressed by an opponent I would have had no trouble defeating under normal circumstances.
I danced around them both, putting the nuzleaf between me and the kecleon. It was the only way I could face them together; I'd have to make sure the kecleon didn't flank me again. I used Double Team one more time and got ready to teleport.
As much as I wished otherwise, I was unable to keep the liepard from simply dodging around me. He had murder in his slitted eyes as he rushed towards Durvasa, the one who'd almost certainly given him a concussion. A telepathic warning allowed my brother to only take a glancing blow from his claws.
He immediately gave up on trying to shoot down the bombirdier's Rock Throws. Instead, he cunningly positioned himself beneath the liepard, using the much larger pokemon as a living shield against his own teammate's barrage.
The liepard let out a wordless shriek of rage as stones pelted his body. Then, just before he could gather himself, Durvasa punched one of the stones with an aura-enhanced fist, shattering it right in front of the liepard's face. A dozen shards lanced out, burying themselves into the feline's eyes and choking his throat.
That was the good news. However, the bombirdier quickly repositioned himself and began his barrage anew, this time against Jeanne.
At this rate, we'd be worn down. I was confident in my ability to face any one of them, but together? While they had ranged support? It was beyond my current abilities.
Jeanne must have noticed we were being overwhelmed because I heard her shout.
"Look away!" my sister cried.
Neither I nor Durvasa questioned it. At this point, we knew her well enough to know what was coming. Jeanne raised both paws to the sky, horns and tail glowing with power. She did what she did best: She praised the sun. A brilliant blast of white light emanated from my sister, as if a star had descended upon the glade.
"Gah! I'm going to eat you alive!" the nuzleaf cried in pain. Jeanne was bright for me. I couldn't even imagine what a nocturnal pokemon thought of her Flash.
Most of the poachers' teams were similarly affected, though to lesser degrees, and we wasted no time capitalizing on the opening. Most, not all. The kecleon further proved himself adaptable. He heard Jeanne shout and ducked behind the nuzleaf, avoiding a direct hit of my sister's Flash.
Durvasa struck like a sharpedo that smelled blood in the water. Even while the liepard recoiled, a vicious Karate Chop found its jugular, leaving it hacking and coughing. He then jumped onto his head, climbing just beyond the nape of the neck. The liepard thrashed wildly, bucking like a berserk taurus, but no one ever said getting a mankey to let go of his perch was easy.
All the while, Durvasa rained down a continuous stream of hammerfists onto the back of his opponent's head. Though he was far beyond the point of caring about precise martial arts forms, each strike was laced with the distinct glow of fighting type aura. It didn't take long for the liepard to slump forward in blissful unconsciousness.
That thing was strong, probably one of the poachers' ace pokemon. I made a note to congratulate my brother for the accomplishment later.
Jeanne ducked out completely, opting to disengage from the Electric Terrain. She'd gotten her use out of it and though she likely could have tried to snipe the bombirdier, he was quite far away and her bolts tended to dissipate into the atmosphere rapidly, losing a fair bit of power. Instead of getting a free hit on her opponents, she began using Agility, choosing to build her mobility.
That was something that confused me about my lord's training: My sister often acted as our ranged support, our "ranged DPS" to use my lord's phrasing. She used Electric Terrain and Charge to build up a locus of power and behaved almost like a stationary turret.
Yet at the same time, my lord had me teach her Agility and she learned Electro Ball, a move that benefited from increased speed.
I didn't understand. The two fighting styles seemed antithetical. Still, I could not deny that it proved useful now as she dodged a hail of hastily thrown rocks from the bombirdier. Knowing my sister would be able to remain mobile despite all evidence to the contrary thus far was a weight off my mind.
I didn't stay idle either. I used those precious several seconds to focus. I had to end things now, before the skuntank and bombirdier refocused on us. When I struck again, it was with every intent to finish it. I couldn't have Durvasa be the only one to score a knockout here; he'd gloat for days.
The nuzleaf was not my match. Blows rained down fast enough that he could barely register them. I smoothly ducked beneath the kecleon's tongue and Fury Swipes before teleporting to the other side of the nuzleaf, constantly putting him between me and his ally.
Almost without noticing, I sank into familiar kata, movements I'd honed and mastered at my lord's side. He'd once called it a moving meditation, motions so ingrained in the body that they brought with them a nearly trance-like state of awareness.
Then it began. A light, a spark, the slightest flare of pink in a sea of ghostly violet. Then another spark, and another.
There was much I disliked about the fae. I disliked how mercurial they could be. I disliked the way their whims seemed to change with the phases of the moon, how they lived with such a selfish perspective. They seemed so alien to me at times, even while I counted myself among their number. And yet, it was that same selfishness that had drawn me in on that night atop the waves.
To be a fae was to be selfish. It was to chase one's desires with a near obsessive passion. Thus was my dream: I would become a peerless knight. Damn my gender. Damn my natural typing. None of it mattered in the face of my determination. I would prove it so. I would slash apart anything and anyone in the pursuit of this dream.
My lord liked to tell me stories, stories of fictional heroes and villains alike. I was named for one such hero: Artoria Pendragon, the King of Knights, a young girl saddled with responsibilities she had not understood. By the time she fully comprehended the weight of her destined sword, it was too late. But rather than cast Caliburn aside, she embraced her role for the good of her kingdom, becoming a paragon of knighthood that resonated deeply with me.
She held in her hands the Ever-Distant Utopia, a sheath perhaps even more precious than her Sword of Promised Victory. Lord Aaron once said that it was as much a metaphor for what lay beyond the horizon as it was a tangible sheath. It said that though she was unbeatable on the field of battle, it was the act of sheathing her blade, the peace promised by Avalon, that she cherished most of all.
Because that was what Avalon was in the end: a goal, the dream of a young girl, the resting place of the King of Knights. She had her Avalon, her dream, and like her, I had mine.
And right now, this nuzleaf was in the way of that dream.
To be a knight was to be a protector. A shield for the defenseless. A sword for the wicked. A beacon for the lost. The code of chivalry was at its heart a paradoxical one, to seek peace by drawing the sword, perfect for a fae.
Faster and faster I struck, even as more and more motes of pink light coalesced on my blade. The silvery hue of my spoon rapidly gave way, revealing a swirl of fairy aura that physically burned my opponent.
For the first time, I'd fully succeeded. A fairy type sword. My dream, my own Ever-Distant Utopia, was before me, and I would not be denied. Immense pride swelled in my chest as my new sword cleaved through the nuzleaf's guard to deliver one final blow.
Then a thought sprang to mind. A name: Excali-Spoon. I could even hear my lord's voice calling it that. So ingrained was his ridiculous name in my conscience that it was on the tip of my tongue, but I just barely prevented myself from shouting it out.
The thought almost made me stumble in surprise. Even as I brought the fae-sword down on the nuzleaf, I could imagine my lord's smug smirk.
Heedless of my inner crisis, I continued my kata, the nuzleaf reduced to nothing more than a training dummy at this point. He'd do nicely to vent my frustrations upon.
Author's Note
I hope I did that fight some justice. Sure, it only took Aaron four minutes to get there, but four minutes is a fucking eternity in a fight. I decided to give everyone several "rounds" in D&D-speak. I wanted to focus on the pokemon. We'll hop back to Aaron's POV next chapter.
If it came off as a bit confusing, that was intentional on my part. I wanted to make it obvious that this wasn't a structured battle with normal rules. Just about the only nod to the rules is that Artoria isn't using Teleport to assassinate the humans (she's not that mean, yet).
Other than that, it was my attempt at writing a (still kinda low-powered) skirmish. The poachers' pokemon weren't very strong, but neither are Artoria & co. They're both considerably stronger than the regular wild pokemon though and I hope it shows.
Animal fact? Sure. Chameleons don't actually change color to camouflage themselves. They're already brown and green; they don't need more camo. Instead, studies suggest they change colors for one of two reasons: to get laid or to cool off.
Chameleon males will change into bright colors based on mood, some reds and blues, to attract mates. Scientists also found that chameleons change color according to temperature, suggesting that being cold-blooded, they use this as a means of regulating their rate of heat absorption.
If you really want the best camo specialist in the animal kingdom, look at the cuttlefish.
Bonus fact: Koreans eat cuttlefish live, called san-nakji. It's usually dipped in a spicy, vinegary sauce made using gochujang, along with sesame oil. It still squirms in your mouth and you can die choking on it (because the suckers cling to your throat).
Honestly? It's not awful. An acquired taste for sure, and definitely not my favorite seafood, but I wouldn't turn my nose up if someone gave me a bite either. It's especially nice with some cold soju. I'm really sad that there aren't any truly good Korean seafood restaurants in the DC area.
Thank you to all of my patrons. As many of you know, I update at least once a week. That said, I update much more frequently on Pat-re-on. If you would like to drop a tip, read my stories early, or vote in monthly polls, come and visit.
As of now, this is how far along each story is:
- A Colorful Life: Same as public
- A Life Worth Living: 3
- Homeless Bunny: 26
- Legendary Tinker: 8.7.5
- Plan? What Plan?: 5.3
- Pokemon: Apocalypse: 1.16
- The Holy Grill: 2.6.5
- Troll in the Dungeon!: 23
- When is a Spoon a Sword?: 4.15
- Let There be War: 9 (Complete)
Total Chapter Difference (Pat-re-on - Public): 27
- Artoria (Kirlia)
- Jeanne (Flaaffy)
- Durvasa (Mankey)
- Over Easy (Egg)
Fish 4.12
Artoria
Petalburg Woods
I teleported with my sister's ball in hand and appeared next to Durvasa on the treetops. I released Jeanne at the juncture of the branches where the leaves were thickest so the light of the pokeball would be obscured as much as possible. Thankfully, the men were not paying attention to us, too focused on the chikorita below.
Jeanne looked around and immediately zeroed in on the unknown bird pokemon. It had a long neck and bill, not unlike the skarmory I occasionally saw. But rather than a skarmory's dignified armor, its feathers were a mix of white and black, with a cold, cruel gaze that made me wary. It also had a strange flap along its front that I could only call a throat-sac, possibly meant for transporting other pokemon.
For her part, Jeanne had foregone all her usual silliness in favor of a quiet glower. Though she said nothing, the air around her vibrated with power, charged by the ambient static let off from her wool.
Her tail-bulb glowed in muted colors as sparks danced along the surface, a sure sign that she'd already begun to build up some power. It was one of the first lessons my lord taught her: No matter what, every spare moment, Charge. She now did it practically unconsciously, the action as meditative for her as my kata were for me.
"What's the plan?" Durvasa grunted. He was hanging from a branch by his tail, keeping an eye out for us. "You're the boss."
I appreciated it. At the start, I'd expected to fend off constant challenges to my authority from Durvasa, but that wasn't the case. He made one serious attempt and after that seemed to respect me enough to listen. For the most part, he was a remarkably disciplined pokemon, not just for a mankey, but in general.
I also remembered what my lord said: He was devious, cunning in a way that I wasn't. Delegation was the hallmark of a good leader. So was recognizing the talents of one's subordinates.
"Our goal is twofold," I began. "Ultimately, we want the poachers defeated and captured by the rangers. To that end, our primary goal is to delay their escape for our lord and the rangers to arrive. Second, we must protect the chikorita below."
"You can strike down the humans with a Teleport," he pointed out. "That would end things quickly."
I shook my head. "The poachers were ready for psychic searchers and prepared dark type pokemon. We should proceed assuming they are prepared for such an attack."
"Then we should secure the duffel bag. And the chikorita should be a higher priority, otherwise they might take hostages."
"Thank you, I hadn't considered that."
Jeanne looked at me with concern. "Will their dark type affect you? If you can't use your best moves…"
"That shouldn't be a concern. Pokemon who can fully shut down a psychic are rare," I assured her. "These simply make it hard for me to trace them but will not inhibit my own movements."
"Good. In that case, we need to treat the chikorita as allies. The easiest way to delay the humans is to interfere with their capture of the chikorita," Durvasa said. "Who knows? They might be willing to fight with us."
I nodded. A hail of Razor Leaves spun towards the poachers, only for the skuntank to shoot them down with a gout of flames. A jet of foul-smelling fluid fired from the tip of his tail, which somehow ignited in the air to form the attack. It was the strangest use of the move I'd ever seen.
The poachers' pokemon began to surround them and the show of fire seemed to have killed their courage. The three other chikorita huddled behind the bigger one, trying to make themselves look even smaller than they were. We were out of time.
"We need to move."
Durvasa looked down for a moment before making a spot decision. "Stick to what we know. Same formation as before. Lure them in; I should be able to do something up close."
"Good enough. Jeanne!"
"On it!" my sister shouted, leaping down with an Electro Ball in hand. It narrowly clipped the bird's long legs, not doing much damage but keeping him from swooping in behind the chikorita with a Wing Attack. She paid the missed attack no mind and immediately pounded the ground, setting up an Electric Terrain.
I pushed aura into my spoon and got ready to use Reflect or Light Screen to defend my teammates. A handful of clones shimmered around Jeanne and I to obscure my movements.
Fairy aura still didn't come easily to me, I could do it, but reinforcing my spoon with it took time. In this case, I'd be the distraction here to provide my brother with the chance to land fighting type strikes against our foes.
"Shit, we've got company!" one of the poachers shouted.
"I know! They're trained," the other replied. "Look for the trainers!"
'Shock Wave the bird,' I told Jeanne telepathically. 'Get them to rush our position and trust that Durvasa will make the opening count.'
'Okay!'
Jeanne began to spark, but that didn't deter the dark types in front of us. We weren't the priority. The liepard rushed forward into a blur, tackling one of the chikorita by the shoulder and clamping down with a vicious bite. He cried out in pain as blood splattered along the grass.
Another chikorita, the biggest of them all by half, let out a warcry of his own, headbutting the liepard off his friend.
"Get up! Fight!" he cried, doing his best to rouse the others. Anger blazed around him, almost as brilliant as Durvasa's own. The kecleon fired a Psybeam at him but he dodged deftly. Rather than wait for his fellows to find their courage, he rushed the lizard pokemon before a cloud of Poison Powder blanketed a small area around him. "YOUR BLOOD WILL WET THE FOREST!"
That changed the plan somewhat. His fighting spirit was commendable, but it was blatantly obvious he wasn't trained. I had to keep him from getting jumped. I teleported up to the nuzleaf and smashed my sword into his face. It only did minimal damage, but I kept him from reinforcing his teammate.
The liepard, nuzleaf, skuntank, and foreign bird focused on me, even as the kecleon hacked and coughed in the poison. The lizard pokemon vanished into his own shadow before reappearing at his trainer's feet.
I didn't know those things could do that. Could I strike down the humans? Or would I leave my sister unguarded, only for him to intercept my blade?
I opted to hold my ground. Sticking together was the right answer. Even if it wasn't, it was too late to adjust now.
A powerful surge of electricity shot into the air, filling the glade with the scent of ozone. The bird tried to dodge but there was no running from my sister's Shock Wave.
The bird cried out in pain and I learned then that it was called bombirdier. He was scorched and singed, but still managed to climb out of range.
No matter, if he wanted to make a difference in this battle, he would have to come back down.
"Skuntank! Flamethrower! Make some mutton chops!"
The skuntank turned on a dime to obey his trainer. Fire gathered around his maw and I had a second to make a decision. Under normal circumstances, teleporting above the bird to knock it out of the fight would have been the ideal move, but…
I gave up on chasing down their aerial support in favor of protecting my sister. She remained in place, continuing to charge her electric attacks, fully confident that I would shield her. Since the bombirdier was out of range, she launched salvo after salvo, keeping the nuzleaf, liepard, and kecleon off balance with weaker but faster attacks.
I would not betray her faith in me. Psychic power bloomed along my sword. In an instant, I stood in front of her. Light Screen met Flamethrower and the noxious flames parted along the bowl of my spoon. When the torrent ended, I scattered the last of the embers with a flick of my spoon before swinging it around to point at the pokemon. The challenge couldn't be more blatant, a wordless taunt to all: Come.
It was the liepard that answered.
Darkness clad his claws as he lunged towards me with a hair-raising yowl. Assurance? Night Slash? Some other move I was unfamiliar with? It mattered not. I readied myself to parry, not because I intended to face him head-on, but because I did not wish to alert him to the ruse.
The liepard's blackened claws were inches from me when Durvasa struck with an ear-piercing screech. It wasn't quite a move like my lord wanted it to be, but the sudden shriek threw off the liepard, making him stutter for that one, crucial second. Our surprise attack left a sour taste in my mouth, it wasn't knightly, but I saw the need for it.
Durvasa struck with all the fury his species was notorious for and landed two Karate Chops, one to the back of the liepard's neck and the other over his opponent's eye. Both strikes were no doubt boosted with Focus Energy. Even as the liepard's head was wrenched to the side, his Karate Chop transitioned into Scratch.
His sharp nails found purchase on his opponent's delicate ear, tearing it to ribbons as he pulled himself up over the larger feline. The dark type had expected an easy psychic and found the single angriest pokemon in the forest instead.
Still, the liepard was a fully evolved pokemon with all the durability and resilience that implied. He spun on a dime, lashing out with long, razor-sharp claws that left black, sickle-shaped after images in the air. There was power there, a cruel, feline grace that spoke of murderous intent, but that was all he had going for him. Blind in one eye and already injured, he fought with savagery rather than skill, a savagery my teammate was eager to repay in kind.
Durvasa avoided the worst of the strikes with Detect, falling back into that floating, swaying motion that Archie the hitmonchan had taught him. Though he was forced to take a few glancing blows, he repaid each with an equally vicious Karate Chop that steadily wore down his opponent.
Where he lacked the speed to evade fully, my sword parried the claws aside. Psychic energy might be ineffective directly, but I could give my brother the opening he needed.
Until finally, he managed to grab the liepard by the tail. His muscles surged with fighting type energy as he swept the much larger opponent clear off his feet. With a roar of triumph, he hurled the liepard into a tree.
To our collective shock, the liepard wasn't down. He rose on shaky legs but the glare of raw hatred in his eyes made it clear that this wasn't over.
Jeanne was doing an excellent job of keeping the bombirdier away so we had a brief moment to breathe. I took the chance to teleport away, arriving just in time to stop the kecleon and nuzleaf from double-teaming the brave chikorita. The nuzleaf was nearly immune to Mana Edge, but that kecleon certainly wasn't.
His tongue lashed out, wrapping around my spoon. There was a sticky substance that kept me from simply shaking him off. Disgusting. I'd have to spend a few hours polishing my spoon to perfection after this.
That was fine. When he pulled me into him, claws shining with Fury Swipes, I aided him. Mana Burst cracked the earth as I used his tongue like a bungee cord, pulling me along with speed that made me a little dizzy. His eyes widened in shock before my sword found his face. The psychic energy within burst violently over his head, sending him flying away.
Showing his own training, he swerved in the air and let go of my sword. His tongue then lashed out, catching a nearby branch and using the tree to swing around in a circle, returning to his trainer's side. His beady little eyes looked at me with significantly more caution now.
That was as much time as we had before the poachers finally gave up on trying to locate our lord. "Fuck! Focus! Bombirdier, use Whirlw-"
"Gah! Would you stop that?" the bird pokemon shrieked in pain as another Shock Wave found him the moment his elevation fell. He dared not get closer lest my sister truly put him in the ground.
"Pick up the nuzleaf. Nuzleaf, use Bide!" the second poacher said. The bird obeyed, using his strange neck-sac to gather up his ally. I tried to intervene, but the chikorita had the same idea. A hail of leaves got in my way and kept me from reaching them.
The nuzleaf shone with a crimson aura, absorbing Jeanne's electric attacks. My sibling needed no other warning, stopping her anti-air assault. Instead, she turned her attention towards the skuntank, curving her strikes so that the skuntank couldn't simply shoot them down with Flamethrower.
He responded with Sludge Bomb at his trainer's orders, a rapid-fire burst of noxious poisons that did a decent job of shooting down individual missiles. He wasn't able to defend against everything and took a moderate amount of damage.
At the same time, the bird dropped the nuzleaf, sending him careening towards us. If the landing hurt, it must have been intentional because the red glow around him deepened into an ominous crimson.
"Give up and save yourself some pain," the nuzleaf sneered at the chikorita.
To my surprise, the chikorita did not flee even as its other three cohorts turned to hide. Nor did he hesitate. Somehow, he was even angrier than the average mankey; I didn't think that was possible.
He let out a roar before stamping the ground. A pulse of energy sank into the earth, summoning a spike of stone that struck the nuzleaf. "I WILL IMPALE YOU!"
No matter his enthusiasm, it was clear to me that he was not a trained combatant. His stone spike was slow and the nuzleaf had plenty of time to dodge, but he chose to block instead, catching the spike with a slight wince. The crimson aura around him flared as he lunged, ready to pay the chikorita back tenfold.
"He's using Bide! Dodge!" I yelled at my newfound ally.
I tried to intervene, only for the kecleon to recover far faster than I'd expected. He shoved me back with a Fury Swipe at my side before launching a Psybeam at Durvasa. It didn't hurt much, but it was enough to draw my attention for a split second.
Durvasa, who'd been looking to finish off the liepard, was caught by surprise. He wouldn't be able to dodge that. I had to make a choice. And between my brother and the chikorita, that was no choice at all. I vanished again in a flicker of blue, sword up to split the Psybeam. I could only watch as our newest ally took the full brunt of the nuzleaf's retaliatory strike.
The Bide-enhanced nuzleaf struck the chikorita with a victorious cry. A loud sound of something breaking rang through the clearing as the young pokemon flew through the air and into a tree. He was unfortunately nowhere near as resilient as the liepard.
"Good! Now use Rock Tomb! Herd the chikorita over here!" a poacher shouted. At first, I had no idea who he was talking to. There wasn't a single rock type here, but apparently the bird could use rock moves.
We were too late to respond and a dome of stone encased the three other chikorita, keeping them trapped. The bombirdier piled on more and more rocks, keeping them weighed down with a thick shell of stone. They could probably escape with Razor Leaf, together if not separately, but fear paralyzed them.
Their eyes went to their downed fellow and I saw not a hint of fighting spirit in them. I was filled with frustration and disappointment at their cowardice but there was nothing for me to do. Father once told me that fear was the first foe we must face and I saw the truth of his words here.
The bombirdier maintained his momentum. He turned to us with his eyes full of malice and I realized that we three were alone against these five.
"Get off the Psybeam. Shadow Sneak. Get rid of that kirlia," a poacher commanded the kecleon.
"Rock Throw. Stay out of range and bombard them. Skuntank! Support with Sludge Bomb!" the other said to their two ranged pokemon.
That got us into motion.
'Durvasa, knock the rocks away with Swift. Jeanne on the sludge. Try to find an opening to take the bird,' I thought at them. I had no idea if this was the right call and sorely wished my lord was here. Alas, I knew enough to not second-guess myself.
I stamped down my insecurities and charged forward to meet the kecleon, and nuzleaf. The liepard hung back, injured and looking for a chance to flank me as my brother had done to him. Three on one against dark types was hardly favorable to me, but they were all injured to some degree. I'd have to hold on. The barest flicker of pink light began to coalesce on my spoon.
Not enough, still not enough. I quickly disregarded the burgeoning fairy aura in favor of ghost. At least I knew how to use that.
I clashed with the kecleon as the nuzleaf ran past me, striking one of my clones with Headbutt. He tried to reorient, but I'd already skipped back from the kecleon to crack my spoon over his head. The ghost type aura flared, exploding with Mana Edge, but failed to do as much damage as I was used to.
The moment I turned my back, I felt the kecleon's claws rake against me, tearing the back of my dress. I grit my teeth in pain but forced myself to step forward anyway to continue attacking the nuzleaf. I could feel each claw distinctly, the touch of ghost type aura leaving a trail of cold flames down my back. It raked at my mind, a constant distraction that threatened to dispel the gathered aura.
The nuzleaf took that chance and used Payback. Black aura coated his body before he lunged for my throat. He batted my spoon aside with one hand as the other crashed into my cheek. The darkness flooded into my mind. It threatened to overwhelm me. For a moment, the glow of aura around my weapon faded as my vision was filled with stars.
I dug in my heels and turned with the blow as my lord taught me. With the kecleon behind me, I could not step back. The kecleon was dangerous. The chikorita had poisoned him and he'd taken a full Mana Edge from me, but he was still fighting as though uninjured. I sidestepped around the nuzleaf and stomped forward, swinging the pommel of my sword upward in a close-range uppercut that left a weeping cut in the nuzleaf's chin. I couldn't allow them to flank me again.
The nuzleaf fought like a berserker. There was no form or discipline to his actions. He knew moves, a fair few like Payback, Razor Leaf, and Bide, but had little in the way of technique. I felt humiliated, being pressed by an opponent I would have had no trouble defeating under normal circumstances.
I danced around them both, putting the nuzleaf between me and the kecleon. It was the only way I could face them together; I'd have to make sure the kecleon didn't flank me again. I used Double Team one more time and got ready to teleport.
As much as I wished otherwise, I was unable to keep the liepard from simply dodging around me. He had murder in his slitted eyes as he rushed towards Durvasa, the one who'd almost certainly given him a concussion. A telepathic warning allowed my brother to only take a glancing blow from his claws.
He immediately gave up on trying to shoot down the bombirdier's Rock Throws. Instead, he cunningly positioned himself beneath the liepard, using the much larger pokemon as a living shield against his own teammate's barrage.
The liepard let out a wordless shriek of rage as stones pelted his body. Then, just before he could gather himself, Durvasa punched one of the stones with an aura-enhanced fist, shattering it right in front of the liepard's face. A dozen shards lanced out, burying themselves into the feline's eyes and choking his throat.
That was the good news. However, the bombirdier quickly repositioned himself and began his barrage anew, this time against Jeanne.
At this rate, we'd be worn down. I was confident in my ability to face any one of them, but together? While they had ranged support? It was beyond my current abilities.
Jeanne must have noticed we were being overwhelmed because I heard her shout.
"Look away!" my sister cried.
Neither I nor Durvasa questioned it. At this point, we knew her well enough to know what was coming. Jeanne raised both paws to the sky, horns and tail glowing with power. She did what she did best: She praised the sun. A brilliant blast of white light emanated from my sister, as if a star had descended upon the glade.
"Gah! I'm going to eat you alive!" the nuzleaf cried in pain. Jeanne was bright for me. I couldn't even imagine what a nocturnal pokemon thought of her Flash.
Most of the poachers' teams were similarly affected, though to lesser degrees, and we wasted no time capitalizing on the opening. Most, not all. The kecleon further proved himself adaptable. He heard Jeanne shout and ducked behind the nuzleaf, avoiding a direct hit of my sister's Flash.
Durvasa struck like a sharpedo that smelled blood in the water. Even while the liepard recoiled, a vicious Karate Chop found its jugular, leaving it hacking and coughing. He then jumped onto his head, climbing just beyond the nape of the neck. The liepard thrashed wildly, bucking like a berserk taurus, but no one ever said getting a mankey to let go of his perch was easy.
All the while, Durvasa rained down a continuous stream of hammerfists onto the back of his opponent's head. Though he was far beyond the point of caring about precise martial arts forms, each strike was laced with the distinct glow of fighting type aura. It didn't take long for the liepard to slump forward in blissful unconsciousness.
That thing was strong, probably one of the poachers' ace pokemon. I made a note to congratulate my brother for the accomplishment later.
Jeanne ducked out completely, opting to disengage from the Electric Terrain. She'd gotten her use out of it and though she likely could have tried to snipe the bombirdier, he was quite far away and her bolts tended to dissipate into the atmosphere rapidly, losing a fair bit of power. Instead of getting a free hit on her opponents, she began using Agility, choosing to build her mobility.
That was something that confused me about my lord's training: My sister often acted as our ranged support, our "ranged DPS" to use my lord's phrasing. She used Electric Terrain and Charge to build up a locus of power and behaved almost like a stationary turret.
Yet at the same time, my lord had me teach her Agility and she learned Electro Ball, a move that benefited from increased speed.
I didn't understand. The two fighting styles seemed antithetical. Still, I could not deny that it proved useful now as she dodged a hail of hastily thrown rocks from the bombirdier. Knowing my sister would be able to remain mobile despite all evidence to the contrary thus far was a weight off my mind.
I didn't stay idle either. I used those precious several seconds to focus. I had to end things now, before the skuntank and bombirdier refocused on us. When I struck again, it was with every intent to finish it. I couldn't have Durvasa be the only one to score a knockout here; he'd gloat for days.
The nuzleaf was not my match. Blows rained down fast enough that he could barely register them. I smoothly ducked beneath the kecleon's tongue and Fury Swipes before teleporting to the other side of the nuzleaf, constantly putting him between me and his ally.
Almost without noticing, I sank into familiar kata, movements I'd honed and mastered at my lord's side. He'd once called it a moving meditation, motions so ingrained in the body that they brought with them a nearly trance-like state of awareness.
Then it began. A light, a spark, the slightest flare of pink in a sea of ghostly violet. Then another spark, and another.
There was much I disliked about the fae. I disliked how mercurial they could be. I disliked the way their whims seemed to change with the phases of the moon, how they lived with such a selfish perspective. They seemed so alien to me at times, even while I counted myself among their number. And yet, it was that same selfishness that had drawn me in on that night atop the waves.
To be a fae was to be selfish. It was to chase one's desires with a near obsessive passion. Thus was my dream: I would become a peerless knight. Damn my gender. Damn my natural typing. None of it mattered in the face of my determination. I would prove it so. I would slash apart anything and anyone in the pursuit of this dream.
My lord liked to tell me stories, stories of fictional heroes and villains alike. I was named for one such hero: Artoria Pendragon, the King of Knights, a young girl saddled with responsibilities she had not understood. By the time she fully comprehended the weight of her destined sword, it was too late. But rather than cast Caliburn aside, she embraced her role for the good of her kingdom, becoming a paragon of knighthood that resonated deeply with me.
She held in her hands the Ever-Distant Utopia, a sheath perhaps even more precious than her Sword of Promised Victory. Lord Aaron once said that it was as much a metaphor for what lay beyond the horizon as it was a tangible sheath. It said that though she was unbeatable on the field of battle, it was the act of sheathing her blade, the peace promised by Avalon, that she cherished most of all.
Because that was what Avalon was in the end: a goal, the dream of a young girl, the resting place of the King of Knights. She had her Avalon, her dream, and like her, I had mine.
And right now, this nuzleaf was in the way of that dream.
To be a knight was to be a protector. A shield for the defenseless. A sword for the wicked. A beacon for the lost. The code of chivalry was at its heart a paradoxical one, to seek peace by drawing the sword, perfect for a fae.
Faster and faster I struck, even as more and more motes of pink light coalesced on my blade. The silvery hue of my spoon rapidly gave way, revealing a swirl of fairy aura that physically burned my opponent.
For the first time, I'd fully succeeded. A fairy type sword. My dream, my own Ever-Distant Utopia, was before me, and I would not be denied. Immense pride swelled in my chest as my new sword cleaved through the nuzleaf's guard to deliver one final blow.
Then a thought sprang to mind. A name: Excali-Spoon. I could even hear my lord's voice calling it that. So ingrained was his ridiculous name in my conscience that it was on the tip of my tongue, but I just barely prevented myself from shouting it out.
The thought almost made me stumble in surprise. Even as I brought the fae-sword down on the nuzleaf, I could imagine my lord's smug smirk.
Heedless of my inner crisis, I continued my kata, the nuzleaf reduced to nothing more than a training dummy at this point. He'd do nicely to vent my frustrations upon.
Author's Note
I hope I did that fight some justice. Sure, it only took Aaron four minutes to get there, but four minutes is a fucking eternity in a fight. I decided to give everyone several "rounds" in D&D-speak. I wanted to focus on the pokemon. We'll hop back to Aaron's POV next chapter.
If it came off as a bit confusing, that was intentional on my part. I wanted to make it obvious that this wasn't a structured battle with normal rules. Just about the only nod to the rules is that Artoria isn't using Teleport to assassinate the humans (she's not that mean, yet).
Other than that, it was my attempt at writing a (still kinda low-powered) skirmish. The poachers' pokemon weren't very strong, but neither are Artoria & co. They're both considerably stronger than the regular wild pokemon though and I hope it shows.
Animal fact? Sure. Chameleons don't actually change color to camouflage themselves. They're already brown and green; they don't need more camo. Instead, studies suggest they change colors for one of two reasons: to get laid or to cool off.
Chameleon males will change into bright colors based on mood, some reds and blues, to attract mates. Scientists also found that chameleons change color according to temperature, suggesting that being cold-blooded, they use this as a means of regulating their rate of heat absorption.
If you really want the best camo specialist in the animal kingdom, look at the cuttlefish.
Bonus fact: Koreans eat cuttlefish live, called san-nakji. It's usually dipped in a spicy, vinegary sauce made using gochujang, along with sesame oil. It still squirms in your mouth and you can die choking on it (because the suckers cling to your throat).
Honestly? It's not awful. An acquired taste for sure, and definitely not my favorite seafood, but I wouldn't turn my nose up if someone gave me a bite either. It's especially nice with some cold soju. I'm really sad that there aren't any truly good Korean seafood restaurants in the DC area.
Thank you to all of my patrons. As many of you know, I update at least once a week. That said, I update much more frequently on Pat-re-on. If you would like to drop a tip, read my stories early, or vote in monthly polls, come and visit.
As of now, this is how far along each story is:
- A Colorful Life: Same as public
- A Life Worth Living: 3
- Homeless Bunny: 26
- Legendary Tinker: 8.7.5
- Plan? What Plan?: 5.3
- Pokemon: Apocalypse: 1.16
- The Holy Grill: 2.6.5
- Troll in the Dungeon!: 23
- When is a Spoon a Sword?: 4.15
- Let There be War: 9 (Complete)
Total Chapter Difference (Pat-re-on - Public): 27
- Location
- Wales
Exca-lent chapter. Happy to see more of this.
SanguisAnima
Σ Series Z10/0 Group A 4A-GELU Mk1
- Location
- nowhere important
Excali-bravo for an Excal-lent chapter, it would be Excali-poor form were I and the other readers not leave some form of words of Ex-couragement for a work of this Ex-caliber.
... And yes, I have been waiting to use these lame Excali-puns.
... And yes, I have been waiting to use these lame Excali-puns.