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


 1.1 Appetizer

    Appetizer 1.1


    Aaron Kanda-Locke


    Arlington, VA, USA


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


    "A bit," I demurred.


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


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


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


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


    "One more?" Luke called.


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


    That was fine. He''d get impatient soon.


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


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


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


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


    Then, I made a fatal mistake.


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


    It didn''t matter.


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


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


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


    X


    Aaron Fulan


    Mossdeep City, Hoenn Region


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


    And then there was the bitterness and resentment.


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


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


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


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


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


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


    I couldn''t do any of that.


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


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


    Fucking seven.


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


    I got over it¡­ kind of.


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


    X


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


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


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


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


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


    The exam itself was¡­ trivial.


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


    X


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


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


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


    "Thanks, dad," I said.


    "He knows what I meant," she huffed.


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


    Mom looked at me with an imperious expression before her fa?ade broke. "You¡­ Your performance was¡­ adequate," she finished.


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


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


    Yeah, we made ourselves scarce real fast after that.


    X


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


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


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


    A sharp telekinetic jab made me jolt.


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


    "Yes, ma''am."


    The whispers began immediately.


    "Must be nice to be a parachute."


    "Silver spoon much?"


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


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


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


    "Yes, ma''am."


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


    "Cool, I love ralts. They''re one of my favorite pok¨¦mon. You know that."


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


    "No, of course not."


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


    "Indeed. No one wanted this ralts."


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


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


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


    "Umm¡­ What the hell?"


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


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


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


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


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


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


    Author''s Note


    Yep. Pok¨¦mon. It''s my favorite fandom of all time.


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


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


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


    Thank you for reading. To reach a wider audience, and because I enjoy a more forum-like setup to facilitate discussion, I like to crosspost to a wide variety of websites. You can find them all on my Link Tree: https://linktr.ee/fabled.webs.</a>

 1.2 Appetizer

    Appetizer 1.2


    Aaron Fulan


    Mossdeep City, Hoenn Region


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


    "You''re¡­ You''re a girl."


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


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


    "Her father is Quinn," mom clarified.


    "Your gallade."


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


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


    ''Yes.''


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


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


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


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


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


    "Knock Off. Thief. Fa?ade¡­ potentially," mom said.


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


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


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


    "I''ll take her," I said.


    "What?"


    ''Y-You will?''


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


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


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


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


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


    Perhaps this was possible after all.


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


    "Mom, I want ralts as my partner."


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


    X


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


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


    So, I would be starting with Wattson.


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


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


    "Artoria?"


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


    ''Hauuuu¡­''


    "Good night, Artoria."


    ''G-Good night¡­''


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


    X


    Aaron Fulan


    The Sour Qwilfish, Hoenn Region


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


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


    That wouldn''t be a problem for Artoria.


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


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


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


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


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


    "Ralts!" everyone else heard.


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


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


    The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


    "Nope, that''s a she."


    "What? Why?"


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


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


    "Aaron. What are you doing in Slateport?"


    "Visiting family. You?"


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


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


    "Oh?"


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


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


    "If you say so¡­"


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


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


    ''Yes, my liege?''


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


    ''I can keep going,'' she protested.


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


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


    ''Not proper,'' she sulked.


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


    ''What shall I be doing?''


    "You''re going to jump."


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


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


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


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


    ''I believe so.''


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


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


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


    X


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


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


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


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


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


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


    "Artoria," I called.


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


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


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


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


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


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


    ''Yes, my lord.''


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


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


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


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


    "So why only physical attacks?"


    ''I¡­ I''m¡­''


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


    "Can your opponent use Double Team?"


    ''Yes.''


    "And Hypnosis?"


    ''If they are able.''


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


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


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


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


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


    ''Yes, my lord.''


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


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


    "Yes?"


    ''Will we ever get other teammates?''


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


    ''I¡­ Thank you¡­''


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


    ''All psychics?''


    "No, why would you think that?"


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


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


    ''Umm¡­''


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


    ''So it is, my lord. Which pok¨¦mon will you seek to add to our team then?''


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


    ''My lord is wise¡­''


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


    X


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


    ''Lady Sharon must have been a demanding mistress.''


    "Yeah, that''s one way to put it¡­"


    Author''s Note


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


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


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


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


    Psychics have an instinctive affinity for spoons.


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


    Breath of Spoon First Form: Big Scoop!


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


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


    Thank you for reading. To reach a wider audience, and because I enjoy a more forum-like setup to facilitate discussion, I like to crosspost to a wide variety of websites. You can find them all on my Link Tree: https://linktr.ee/fabled.webs.</a>

 1.3 Appetizer

    <div>


    Appetizer 1.3


    Aaron Fulan


    Slateport City, Hoenn Region


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


    ''Yes!''


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


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


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


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


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


    "Yeah. Coffee break?"


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


    "Probably."


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


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


    "Even a chimecho?"


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


    "That''s¡­ bizarre."


    "Pok¨¦mon usually are," I said with a sagely nod. "Are you a nursing resident?"


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


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


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


    "Oof, and they let him?"


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


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


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


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


    X


    Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.


    I ended up booking a stay at the pok¨¦mon center for two weeks.


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


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


    After that came her psychic training.


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


    While she practiced her mental abilities, I read.


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


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


    I scoffed. Pot. Kettle.


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


    X


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


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


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


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


    "I reject."


    "Yeah, right he- Wait, what?"


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


    "W-Well, why not?"


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


    "Well it looks like she wants to fight."


    ''Apologize,'' my little knight growled again.


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


    ''Then you will suffer my blade!''


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


    Author''s Note


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


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


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


    Nah, still funny.


    Thank you for reading. To reach a wider audience, and because I enjoy a more forum-like setup to facilitate discussion, I like to crosspost to a wide variety of websites. You can find them all on my Link Tree: https://linktr.ee/fabled.webs.</a>

 1.4 Appetizer

    Appetizer 1.4


    Aaron Fulan


    Slateport City, Hoenn Region


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


    "Holy shit, he''s her son?"


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


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


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


    With that, he tossed his only pok¨¦ball onto the field, revealing a poochyena.


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


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


    "I do," I confirmed.


    "Yeah," Enzo repeated.


    "Then begin!"


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


    I rolled my eyes. "Nuki waza."


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


    ''Yes, my lord.''


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


    "End it. Men."


    "Sand Attack!"


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


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


    "Bite!"


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


    Shaking, she stood.


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


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


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


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


    "Debana-men."


    ''Y-Yes, my lord!''


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


    And that moment was enough.


    "Mana Edge!"


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


    ''Yes, my lord.''


    "All we can do is learn from it."


    This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.


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


    "And why is that?"


    "Your ralts is using a weapon!"


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


    "He has a weapon!"


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


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


    "Thanks for that," I said.


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


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


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


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


    "Shouldn''t she learn better moves then?"


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


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


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


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


    X


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


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


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


    ''My lord, are we not training today?''


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


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


    "You are~"


    ''Am not.''


    "Are."


    ''Are not.''


    "Are."


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


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


    ''Where are we headed, my lord?''


    "Slateport Open-Air Market," I said.


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


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


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


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


    ''Yes, my lord.''


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


    ''Yes, my lord,'' she replied dutifully.


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


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


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


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


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


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


    And that meant I had a chance.


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


    "Yea, who wants to know?"


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


    "How so?"


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


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


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


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


    ''Yes.''


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


    ''I don''t understand.''


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


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


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


    ''I¡­ see¡­''


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


    ''Humans are strange¡­''


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


    Author''s Note


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


    First battle, and a rather underwhelming one at that.


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


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


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


    Initial roll to recollect: 18


    Physically finding the alakazite/Negotiations: 15


    Contest hall encounter roll: 16


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


    Thank you for reading. To reach a wider audience, and because I enjoy a more forum-like setup to facilitate discussion, I like to crosspost to a wide variety of websites. You can find them all on my Link Tree: https://linktr.ee/fabled.webs.</a>

 1.5 Appetizer

    Appetizer 1.5


    Aaron Fulan


    Slateport City, Hoenn Region


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


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


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


    Unlikely.


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


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


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


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


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


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


    "Artoria?"


    ''Yes, my lord?''


    "Dewford or Mauville?"


    ''Pardon me?''


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


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


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


    ''I¡­'' She quieted at that.


    "Artoria?"


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


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


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


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


    ''Truly?''


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


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


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


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


    "Well, dearie? See something you like?"


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


    This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.


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


    "Aww man, I thought Ziggy had you."


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


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


    Perfect.


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


    ''My lord?''


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


    He blinked. "Eh?"


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


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


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


    "Artoria."


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


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


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


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


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


    "Hiki-kote," I called.


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


    "Mana Edge!"


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


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


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


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


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


    "Ralts!"


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


    "Ma! Machop!"


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


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


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


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


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


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


    "Mana Burst. Run rings!"


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


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


    "Double Team then Mana Edge!"


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


    "Well, when you put it that way¡­"


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


    Author''s Note


    Sailor-y accents are hard¡­


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


    Thank you for reading. To reach a wider audience, and because I enjoy a more forum-like setup to facilitate discussion, I like to crosspost to a wide variety of websites. You can find them all on my Link Tree: https://linktr.ee/fabled.webs.</a>

 1.6 Appetizer

    Appetizer 1.6


    Aaron Fulan


    Slateport City, Hoenn Region


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


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


    Truly, both pok¨¦mon and the medicines of this world astounded me.


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


    ''It''s big, my lord.''


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


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


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


    ''How so, my lord?''


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


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


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


    "No interest in competing, young man?"


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


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


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


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


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


    "Fulan. Aaron Fulan, sir."


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


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


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


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


    "Uncle Wall? Who''s this?"


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


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


    "Swa, swablu!" he cried.


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


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


    I shrugged. "Probably?"


    "That wasn''t very enthusiastic."


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


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


    "Oh? Are we rivals?"


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


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


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


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


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


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


    Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.


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


    "Hmm?"


    "Are you a psychic? Like Leader Sharon."


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


    "Swablu!" the fluffball crooned alongside his trainer.


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


    "Then¡­ Why''d you say all that?"


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


    "Th-That''s¡­ That makes no sense."


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


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


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


    "I''m sorry, you are?"


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


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


    ''There''s no accounting for taste¡­''


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


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


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


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


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


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


    "A brutish pok¨¦mon. And here I thought the ralts line were known for their elegance."


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


    ''My apologies, my lord.''


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


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


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


    "I just sai-"


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


    X


    Aaron Fulan


    Route 110, Hoenn Region


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


    That left an electrike.


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


    That was far from the case here.


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


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


    "Ready, Artoria?"


    ''Always, my lord.''


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


    Author''s Note


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


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


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


    Waifu encountered!


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


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


    And yes, Ali the Altaria is male.


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


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


    Thank you for reading. To reach a wider audience, and because I enjoy a more forum-like setup to facilitate discussion, I like to crosspost to a wide variety of websites. You can find them all on my Link Tree: https://linktr.ee/fabled.webs.</a>

 1.7 Appetizer

    Appetizer 1.7


    Aaron Fulan


    Route 110, Hoenn Region


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


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


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


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


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


    ''Hunger is the enemy,'' she said seriously.


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


    Empathic nutrition made for the best social chameleons.


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


    ''Yes, my lord.''


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


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


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


    "Hello, sir."


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


    "Do I look that inexperienced?"


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


    "Not the first."


    "Trainer school doesn''t count."


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


    "That sounds like an amazing job."


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


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


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


    "Nope, Mossdeep."


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


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


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


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


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


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


    "Nope. Guess again."


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


    "Professional cyclist?"


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


    "Fair."


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


    "Say, Wanda?"


    "What''s up?"


    "Your doduo. How do they do that?"


    "Do what?"


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


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


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


    The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


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


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


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


    That drew me back. "Wait, what?"


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


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


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


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


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


    "Yeah."


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


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


    "Right, fancy gym sponsor."


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


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


    "Thanks, so¡­ can you teach me?"


    "Nope."


    "Ehh?"


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


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


    "It doesn''t help me either."


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


    "Tempting, but again, diet."


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


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


    "Seriously? What happened to techniques being personal?"


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


    "And the battle?"


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


    "So, curiosity then?"


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


    I nodded. "Artoria will be ready."


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


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


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


    "Yeah, good night, Wanda."


    "Night, Aaron."


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


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


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


    ''Yes, my lord. Good night.''


    "Good night, Artoria."


    X


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


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


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


    "Duo."


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


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


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


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


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


    "Yes, sir," we echoed each other.


    "Ready?"


    "Yeah."


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


    "Fury Attack!"


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


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


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


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


    "Now, Burst into Edge!" I called.


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


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


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


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


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


    "Rage!"


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


    "Yeah, she''s unique."


    "Wait, she?"


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


    "Huh¡­ Alright, if you say so."


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


    "So, any advice for me?"


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


    "Yeah, figures. Thanks for the battle."


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


    "Wait, you will?"


    "I don''t see why not."


    "What happened to beating them in a battle?"


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


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


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


    "I mean¡­ Kind of?"


    "Heh, nah, no way. Not from me. It was just a simple exercise one of dad''s colleagues, a ranger in the Safari Zone, taught me. The goal isn''t some special move but to synchronize their reaction times and thought patterns. Repeat a task enough, force them to cooperate enough, and you''ll eventually get two heads that think as one. That''s really all there is to it."


    "Huh¡­"


    "Don''t they do something like this in Mossdeep?"


    "Not really. Gym pok¨¦mon tended to be more experienced, so I don''t have much experience with very young pok¨¦mon. I did get to sit in on some psychic seminars though. There, a more experienced psychic, usually an alakazam or gardevoir, would guide the gym pok¨¦mon in opening their minds and whatnot. It wasn''t anything so¡­ mundane."


    "Mundane is just fine if it works, kiddo."


    "Yeah, I get it. Thanks, Wanda."


    She stood and dusted herself off. "No problem, kid. I''m going to go head out now. I think that if I start riding, I can cover another eighty miles today."


    And with that, she was off.


    Author''s Note


    I wanted to portray the life of a trainer in an established route. I figured that a route so close to two major cities would be heavily monitored and wondered what a mix of cycling and camping roads would look like. This was the result. Also, this is what shit tracking rolls get me. No thundo-doggo.


    Also, Japanese people really, really like their curry rice, especially when camping. Is it stereotyping if it''s true?


    A top-tier cyclist can bike more than 250 miles per day in good conditions. Eighty isn''t unreasonable, even if it sounds insane to a lazy bum like me. A normal person can walk three miles an hour, or about twenty-four miles per day. Aaron, by necessity in this world, is rather fit thanks to aura and anime shenanigans.


    Hari-men is often mistaken for harai-men and vice-versa. Hari is a swift, strong slap to the side of the opponent''s sword, intended to move their sword out of the center so your scan take its place and strike. It''s a quick, sharp movement. Harai is a longer sweep rather than a slap. The distinction is semantic in my opinion, but Aaron would know the difference and drilled it into Artoria.


    Normally, hari waza is not considered a counter, an oji waza, but such distinctions tend to blur together in combat.


    Thank you for reading. To reach a wider audience, and because I enjoy a more forum-like setup to facilitate discussion, I like to crosspost to a wide variety of websites. You can find them all on my Link Tree: https://linktr.ee/fabled.webs.</a>

 1.8 Appetizer

    <div>


    Appetizer 1.8


    Aaron Fulan


    Route 110, Hoenn Region


    After receiving a few more tips and adding Wanda to my contact list, it wasn''t long before we went our separate ways. Wanda intended to make another seventy or eighty miles today while I made my way towards Mauville at a more leisurely pace.


    We continued on the lower path for several minutes before Artoria spoke.


    ''I failed,'' she said morosely, ever serious.


    "We failed," I corrected her, "and not because of anything we did. Sometimes, the odds are too stacked against us."


    ''That-''


    "Sounds cowardly? It''s okay to criticize, Artoria. I''m not going to get mad."


    ''¡­ Yes¡­''


    "And what if I told you that I expected this outcome? I didn''t truly expect to win against Wanda and her doduo."


    Then why did you have me battle?''


    "Let me ask you a question with another: What did you lose?"


    ''My lord?''


    "We lost the battle, sure, but what did we lose?"


    ''¡­''


    "We lost nothing," I informed her gently. I stepped around a particularly large rock. "We lost nothing but gained valuable experience. Did you know Supersonic could be so dangerous outside of a gym battle?"


    ''No¡­''


    "And neither did I. And now we know. We lost, but if a bruised ego is all it cost us, then that''s a price I''ll pay every time."


    ''She was not as imposing as father,'' Artoria said mulishly.


    "Of course not. Your dad''s a gallade who mom keeps in reserve for trainers looking for their eighth badge. Even then, he''s the team anchor that shows up to murder-blend his way through whatever poor sucker happens to show. Take this as proof of just how far we need to go."


    ''Yes, my lord. It''s just¡­ I won against the hound and the fighter so I¡­''


    "Humbling, isn''t it?"


    ''Yes¡­''


    "Well, how about we train as we move? Wanda made a lot of sense, you know."


    ''I am too old to be baited with snacks!''


    "Liar. You''d do anything for a pecha poffin straight out of the oven," I teased. "Admit it."


    ''Hauu¡­ Hunger is the enemy¡­''


    She sounded so adorable when she was pouting that I couldn''t help myself. I swept her off my shoulder and into my hands before giving her a good scratch behind the horns. "You''re way too cute, Artoria."


    ''M-My lord! This isn''t proper,'' she flailed, though still mindful to not resort to telekinesis.


    I decided to spare her after a moment''s humiliation and returned her to my shoulder. "I was thinking. When you''ve recovered from your battle, you''re going to run alongside me using Mana Burst. I''m not moving very fast, but I think it''d be a good way to train your stamina."


    ''I can do that right now,'' she said as she made to hop off.


    I held out my hand and caught her. "Nope. After lunch. Let the potion fully take effect. Even if you don''t feel tired, there could be long-lasting effects if you strain yourself."


    ''Very well, my lord. Shall I look for another electric hound?''


    "No, not right now. I don''t want you battling at the moment anyway. We''ll play a game instead."


    ''A game?''


    "Yup. I''m going to look at something and then count to five. At the end of the count, you''re going to try to peak in my mind as quickly as possible to tell me what my vision is focused on."


    ''I see. Is this meant to improve our bond?''


    "Right. Do you remember back when you battled that poochyena and you were able to see even through the Sand Attack by using my eyes?"


    ''Yes, I¡­ I''m not sure how I did it.''


    "Psychic energy is influenced heavily by our emotions," I explained. This was one of the things I''d made sure to look into after that incident. One of the articles in the Mossdeep Archive held the answers. "You''re a ralts, which means you use your horns to receive emotional signals constantly. I''m sure you''ve used psychic signals to communicate with your parents in the past as well. I think that because we were emotionally synched, you were able to subconsciously latch onto that and reinforce our connection to use my senses as if they were your own."


    ''Ah, I understand. If we practice, we should be able to do this instantly to never be caught unawares. Brilliant. As expected of my lord.''


    "I wouldn''t say never," I replied sheepishly. Even a month later, her utter faith in me was sometimes a little uncomfortable. "But that''s the idea. Ready?"


    ''Yes!''


    "Okay, count to five."


    ''Five¡­ Four¡­ Three¡­''


    X


    Another day passed in this manner. We divided our trekking time between working on Mana Burst, playing an increasingly elaborate game of I Spy, and battling the occasional wild pok¨¦mon or trainer.


    Although most wild pok¨¦mon stayed out of our way, there were a few reasons some would let themselves encounter trainers. A few were just waking up or just turning in, depending on their circadian rhythm and our meetings were purely accidental. Others wished to scope us out as prospective challenges for one reason or another, most commonly for food or to test themselves. Still others were defending their territory, much like any wild animal back on earth, and happened to view humans as rivals for food or causes of unacceptable disturbance.


    But most commonly, they just didn''t care one way or another and allowed themselves to be stumbled upon, neither moving out of the way nor seeking out human contact.


    Like the marill Artoria was facing right this moment.


    It was strong, remarkably so. Not to such a degree that I suspected a Huge Power mutation, which was just myofibrillar hypertrophy enhanced by your average pok¨¦mon fuckery and aura, but strong enough that I suspected it was close to evolving. It knew an incredibly diverse array of moves, from Rollout and Tackle to Water Gun, Charm, Bubble Beam, and even Bounce. Most wild pok¨¦mon knew maybe three or four.


    A hail of compressed bubbles spread form the marill''s mouth at speeds comparable to an amateur baseball. Artoria slashed her sword from the bottom up in a textbook suri-age, the glowing light of Mana Edge leaving a trail behind her swing.


    The head of her spoon made contact with the first bubble, cleaving it in half. At the same time, the psychic energy stored in Mana Edge exploded outward, causing a chain reaction that cascaded back towards the marill. Every bubble in its Bubble Beam was deflected or detonated prematurely.


    "M-Marill?" It had time to cry out in dismay before Artoria closed the gap with a series of Mana Bursts in a zigzag pattern, nailing it in the head and sending sailing into the reservoir beyond.


    "That was amazing," I complimented her. "Your suri-age was clean and you released your control over Mana Edge at just the right time. Well done."


    ''It wasn''t much, my lord,'' she demurred. ''I only carried out your instructions to the best of my ability.''


    "That alone is good. You took the image I had from my mind without me telling you anything. Our bond is growing."


    ''It is, isn''t it?''


    I smiled and handed her another oran berry. I was starting to run out after five days of traveling but that was a minor problem in the face of her overwhelming improvement. She wouldn''t have been able to time a perfect counter like that a mere week ago.


    "Are you up for another battle?"


    ''Yes, I was not harmed at all.''


    If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    "In that case, let''s let out some bait for an electrike. If we can''t catch one, we should make one come to us."


    ''Very well, my lord.''


    We stopped for lunch and did as I''d read. There were hundreds of stories online and in historical records of how pok¨¦mon were tamed using a bribe to initiate a conversation. After all, though some may be feral, there were just as many so called "wild" pok¨¦mon that had human-like intelligences. At the bare minimum, they were capable of conversing with one another, even if the contents of said conversation in the wild tended to begin and end with "Please don''t eat me."


    Thinking about it, the wilds of the pok¨¦mon world were almost as cutthroat as the deserts of Hueco Mundo from Bleach. Luckily, the routes designated by the League was not truly wild, not with the number of travelers and rangers patrolling the area.


    This time, when Artoria and I settled down for lunch, I prepared three plates of curry rice, though Artoria''s share was admittedly more like an extra-small rice ball. Taking the third, I placed it off to the side a little ways so a wild pok¨¦mon wouldn''t feel like all the attention was on them should they feel skittish.


    As with most animals, the goal was to leave the initiative in their corner.


    "Alright, we don''t know that this will bring in an electrike," I told her, "but that''s fine. I want you to talk with whichever pok¨¦mon shows up and see if there are any powerful electrike around looking for a trainer."


    ''I will convey your words, my lord,'' Artoria said, as serious as someone reading a will.


    We waited and had lunch. I had my pok¨¦dex opened to one side, an article on the intricacies of the move Teleport, but kept one eye open for anyone going for the free food.


    Half an hour in, the bush stirred and a grayish-green blob with a yellow, feathery ornament on its head slowly shuffled into the rest stop.


    The gulpin was literally called the "stomach pok¨¦mon" because most of its spherical body by volume was taken up by its stomach. I didn''t have anything against poison types, but it was about as far from my list of desired teammates as possible.


    Its blob-like body made it very slow and though it did sport some decent defenses against blunt trauma, its primary defense against predators was simply being as unappetizing as possible. It constructed a unique, smelly poison that it excreted from its pores to turn away attackers.


    Worst of all, it was as dumb as a brick. Most pok¨¦mon were capable of some level of intelligence but gulpin were about as far left of the bell curve as you could get and still technically qualify as sapient. Because most of their bodies were taken up by their stomachs, they had comparatively small brains and hearts, which made for both lacking smarts and stamina.


    I sighed and weighed my options. "Artoria, stop it. Make sure you stop breathing and get back when you see it excreting gases."


    ''Yes, my lord.'' She brandished her sword and stood between it and the food. ''Halt, round creature!''


    "Guul?" it moaned.


    "Artoria, mind translating for me?"


    ''It desires sustenance.''


    "Tell it that if it can tell me where to find an electrike, you''ll move aside." There was some back and forth in pok¨¦speak that just sounded like repeated names to me. "What now?"


    ''The round creature says the lightning hounds are here.''


    "Can it be more specific?"


    She shook her head. ''Here. Run fast. Hurry much.''


    "Okay, that must mean they have a range and it covers the entire path. I was hoping it would know where a den was."


    ''Shall I move?''


    "Yeah, sure, why not?"


    We watched as the gulpin slowly crawled over to the plate of curry. When it reached the food, it opened its mouth in a boneless yawn and proceeded to drape itself over the meal. Everything, plate and all, vanished into its stomach and I knew I wouldn''t be getting that back. I saw Artoria shudder in disgust at the sight.


    "Well, that idea''s a bust," I said. "Let''s pack up and try again in the evening."


    ''Yes, my lord.''


    X


    Aaron Fulan


    Mauville City, Hoenn Region


    Not one. Not one fucking electrike!


    Oh, Artoria regularly caught glimpses of the damn mutts thanks to her expanding psychic awareness, but nooo, not a single one took an interest in the food laid out for them. I tried curry, berries, poffins, jerky, and even random bits of trail mix.


    Artoria battled six marill, two wingull, four gulpin, and even the odd taillow, but not a single electrike.


    Not. A. One.


    Sour grapes? Salty?


    YES. Yes I was. What gave it away?


    After my frustration boiled over, I took a ramp up to the SCR and cycled for a day to burn off stress. This experience thoroughly poisoned the electrike line for me. I still wanted an electric type at some point, but I decided after eight days of travel in Route 110 that it wouldn''t be an electrike.


    On the plus side, Artoria moved on from Double Team to Teleport. The move took her several seconds to charge, but I was happy to see her making visible progress. She could warp to anywhere in her line of sight or to myself as I acted as something of a psychic anchor for her abilities.


    We continued playing our game of I Spy and I hoped that we could soon further complicate the exercise by having her teleport to whatever I was thinking of.


    Once she got the hang of that, I''d start her on Shadow Sneak.


    Shadow Sneak was the egg move she''d inherited from her father. By definition, it was the move she''d known longest, but also the move she held the least control over. Psychics didn''t mix well with ghost types and mastering ghost type moves was always a difficult proposition. I kept pushing it back because despite the utility, I felt that the time it took to master Shadow Sneak could be better spent on reinforcing her foundations.


    The two of us trudged towards the city, relieved to see signs of civilization again. Sure there were ranger stations and campsites along the lower path, but they couldn''t measure up to a good bed and a warm meal I didn''t have to cook myself.


    Mauville City was the Hoenn region''s equivalent of New York. It was happening, the center of culture and economy. Just about every major corporation to call the region home had its headquarters here, with the only three exceptions I could think of being Devon Corp in Rustboro, Star Signs Astronomical Research Corporation in Mossdeep, and a handful of shipping conglomerates in Lilycove and Slateport.


    It boasted a major international airport and two smaller airfields as well as a power plant that provided electricity to most of the surrounding towns, including Verdanturf and Slateport. It also had a thriving entertainment district that boasted the biggest casino in the region.


    The two of us made a beeline for the pok¨¦mon center, where I entrusted Artoria to the nurse and gave my family a call to let them know I hadn''t fallen off the path and drowned in the reservoir or something. I hadn''t called them since Slateport due to connectivity issues. At least Tate and Liza got to have a laugh at my abject failure to find an electrike.


    X


    We felt much more like ourselves following a hot meal and a comfy bed. By now, the two of us were used to rising with the sun and so were among the first to step into the pok¨¦mon center canteen. We ignored the handful of people already breaking fast and made our way to the serving line.


    There was a cafeteria lady there with a buffet tray of eggs, sausages, fruits, berries, yogurt, and potatoes. She was a squat, corpulent woman with curly blonde hair held behind a hair net. Her genial smile reminded me of high school cafeterias, though the food looked significantly better.


    "Good morning, dear. What''ll it be?" she greeted me.


    "Hello, ma''am. Can I have a plate with a half-serving of everything? I''d like to try at least a bite of all of it," I said. I usually wasn''t much for heavy breakfasts, the Fulan family typically settled for rice, congee, or the like, but the spread smelled heavenly.


    "Of course dear. And for your lovely ralts?"


    "We''ll share a plate then come back if we want like something specific."


    Nodding, she loaded me up and waved me away with a small carton of orange juice. The whole interaction was remarkably homey, mundane in a nice, comforting way.


    The two of us sat in the far corner, away from other trainers.


    Before I began to dig in, I cut small portions of each dish and held them out to Artoria to try. Being very human-like, the ralts line was perfectly happy to eat human food. This also meant they had a wide array of likes and dislikes unique to each individual.


    Artoria and I had a tradition of sorts: Every time we encountered a dish she had not tried yet, I would proffer a morsel for her to try. She would protest that it was "unknightly" to have the lord feed his knight, and I would poke and prod until she gave in and took a bite.


    It was a familiar ritual between us.


    "Say aah," I said with a grin, holding out a forkful of scrambled eggs, this one mixed with something akin to feta cheese and spinach.


    ''I will not, my liege,'' she said stiffly. ''I refuse to be hand-fed like a newborn.''


    "You haven''t tried scrambled eggs before. You promised you''d try anything at least once."


    ''I know what eggs taste like.''


    "Eggs are such a versatile ingredient that they can taste like anything. Besides, these are a little different, I promise. The cheese and spinach really adds to the flavor."


    ''Then give me the fork and I shall feed myself.''


    "Nope. Come on, Artoria, my hand''s getting tired."


    ''Then please enjoy your meal and cease pestering your knight,'' she sniffed.


    I continued to proffer it, holding the gently steaming eggs an inch from her nose. "People are going to stare, you know."


    ''Uuuu¡­''


    "Just a bite, Artoria."


    ''I am happy with my pecha berry.''


    "A bite. Your sweet tooth isn''t doing you any favors. You need to eat healthier."


    ''Pecha berries are healthy!''


    "They are, but diversity is the best way to maintain good nutrition."


    ''You read that in an online pamphlet, didn''t you, my lord?''


    "Guilty~ But it''s still true. Now eat your egg. If you do, I promise I''ll let you have your pecha too."


    She let out a tired sigh and leaned forward to nibble a little on my fork. Being a foot tall, even that small forkful looked like one of those face-sized cotton candies found in carnivals. Gingerly, she gave it a chew. ''So soft¡­''


    "Right?" I flipped the fork and popped the rest into my mouth. "These are excellent scrambled eggs. Creamy, soft, and not too salty. A good bit of pepper, too. Good scrambled eggs should have enough salt to be flavorful without drowning out the flavor of the eggs and these are perfect."


    ''I see¡­''


    "You can have more, you know."


    ''I¡­ Yes, my liege.''


    After an adorably awkward breakfast in which I convinced Artoria to eat less sweets, the two of us went through her kendo kata in an isolated corner of the yard. Normally, I would be the uchidachi, the teacher, while she would be the shidachi, the student, but because of our height difference, she had to learn both sides of every kata.


    It represented a bit of a hurdle early on, but now that she''d had the time to test these forms in combat, I thought it worked out better for her. She flowed from form strike to strike, alternating between teacher and student roles as though in a trance. It was beautiful to watch and I couldn''t help the stirrings of pride in my chest as I went through my own workout.


    This was my student, my partner.


    Author''s Note


    A group of mice is called a mischief. A group of rabbits is called a fluffle. Marill are called "aqua mouse" pok¨¦mon while azumarill are called "aqua rabbit pok¨¦mon." In an ideal scenario, a group of marill is led by an azumarill, which is why they are collectively still called a fluffle.


    Myofibrillar hypertrophy is a real-life genetic mutation in which your muscles are denser than they should be, making you much stronger than normal. It''s the closest real-world equivalent to anime physiques like Goku''s where a character needs to eat a ton but is super strong.


    Electrike encounter rolls? Yeah, I''m paying for that alakazite right now. Nothing. Not a fucking thing. I even gave myself an easy DC10 since it''s a common pok¨¦mon. Didn''t roll 10 or above even once.


    Oh, the general roll for remembering anything in Mauville was¡­ a 2!


    Thank you for reading. To reach a wider audience, and because I enjoy a more forum-like setup to facilitate discussion, I like to crosspost to a wide variety of websites. You can find them all on my Link Tree: https://linktr.ee/fabled.webs.</a>

 1.9 Appetizer

    Appetizer 1.9


    Aaron Fulan


    Mauville City, Hoenn Region


    The two of us kept it up for two hours, putting away our swords in favor of physical conditioning halfway in. It was easily the least favorite part of Artoria''s training regimen, but one she reluctantly completed with dogged determination. Ever since that sailor and his machop in Slateport City, her dedication had only grown.


    Instead of giving in or settling when she was presented with someone with immeasurable physical talent, she dug in her heels and decided she''d just work ten times harder to keep pace with fighting types up close.


    I had my very own Rock Lee, in adorable, spoon-wielding, pajama-clad miniature.


    Eventually, I deemed that we''d done enough for the morning and scooped her up into my arms before heading back inside. After a quick shower to freshen up, we returned to the lobby and found the receptionist. It was still early so there weren''t too many people around.


    "Hello, ma''am. Do you mind if I ask for directions?" I asked politely.


    "Sure, where do you want to get to?" she said with a bright smile. The bubblegum-pink hair gave it away, but her nametag also read "H. Joy RN."


    I rubbed the back of my head sheepishly. "Actually I''m new in town and I don''t know much of anything about Mauville. I''m looking to challenge the Mauville Gym but before that, I was hoping you''d know of a few good places to train against other people."


    "I suppose you mean in a more formal context than just battling anyone who drops by out back? Let me see¡­" The rapid clicking of keys filled the air for a minute. "Oh, here''s one. How many badges do you have?"


    "This will be my first. Why?"


    "The nearest trainer school''s battle club is hosting a miniature tournament. No badges, one pok¨¦mon per trainer. That sound interesting to you?"


    "I might check it out. Where is it?"


    "Give me your Pok¨¦Nav. I''ll mark it on the map. Be warned though; there is no cash prize as it''s meant to be an educational experience."


    I nodded. "Yeah, I figured. My old trainer school used to do something similar every few weeks."


    "Right. Another option is a place called the Battle Caf¨¦. Basically, you order food and battle a trainer. Again, no cash prize since the battles are a part of the service, but it''s pretty popular with tourists."


    "Huh, who do I battle then?"


    "Mostly local trainers who are working there part-time. Don''t worry, they''re not terribly strong from what I understand."


    "Yeah, that sounds good. I guess we have our lunch plans then, eh, Artoria?"


    ''Indeed, my liege.''


    "Oh, and you wanted to set up a gym battle, right? Any preference for when?"


    "Don''t I need to head there in person?"


    "If you want to, sure, but Wattson recently made an online registration platform. You just look for an open slot and input your trainer ID. Here, let me show you."


    "Huh, makes me wonder why other gym leaders don''t do that."


    "It depends on the leader I''d imagine," she said. "I know that Leader Moore in Lavaridge is very traditional. He probably thinks that stepping into the gym and declaring your intentions is integral for a trainer."


    "Heh, yeah, I think mom would say something similar if I''m honest."


    "Right, Leader Fulan in Mossdeep. I read some of her work on the move Heal Pulse. Brilliant woman."


    "She is," I hummed noncommittally. I scheduled my battle for three days from now. A part of me was concerned about losing a two on one, but if we lost, so be it; badges were never my goal. "Thanks for your help, Nurse Joy."


    "No problem, Mr. Fulan."


    X


    The trainer school, named Dynamic Arts Trainer School to invoke Wattson''s badge, was one of a dozen in Mauville City. After all, it would be impossible for a single school to cater to the entire underage population of a metropolis like Mauville. It sat near the southern tip of the city, four blocks away from the pok¨¦mon center, and boasted the "Rolling Electrodes" as its mascot.


    The mini-tournament was to take place in their quad, a flat, dirt section with two standard-length battlefields drawn in chalk. I found it a little amusing that chalk outlines of basketball fields were replaced by these in this world.


    It only took me a few minutes to register, just long enough for a teacher to input my trainer ID into the League database and confirm that I had no badges to my name. Then, it was just a waiting game.


    I sat with Artoria on my lap and bid her to watch the battles carefully.


    First up were two zigzagoon. It seemed that no matter where in Hoenn I went, these playful trash pandas were the gold standard for new trainers. It wasn''t so much a battle as it was a tussle between siblings, a play-fight that ended when one wrestled the other and nipped it in the throat.


    "Umm¡­ Jeremey''s zigzagoon is the winner?" the teacher acting as the referee asked. "That is Jeremy''s right?"


    The two trainers, one of whom was presumably named Jeremy, shrugged collectively.


    "I don''t know? Let me see. Rocket, here boy!" a boy with a baseball cap called. The one on the bottom flipped back onto its feet and rushed over, panting happily. "Oh¡­ I guess not."


    "Well then¡­ Kyle''s zigzagoon is the victor!"


    The second battle was between a poochyena and a wingull. The wingull and its trainer had a solid hit and run strategy but failed at the last second when the poochyena kicked up enough dust with Sand Attack for it to vanish into the sand. Instead of waiting out the cloud, she made the poor decision to have her wingull dive in with Peck.


    And that was that.


    ''They seem¡­'' Artoria started.


    "Yes, Artoria?"


    ''I do not wish to mock others, but they seem¡­ lackluster.''


    I chuckled. "They do look like they could use more training. But we''re signed up anyway and it''d be rude to just walk away. Tell you what, how about we limit ourselves?"


    ''Hmm?''


    "We''ll compete at a handicap. You are not permitted to use Mana Edge at all. And, you may only strike your opponent after using Teleport."


    ''You wish to teach me to maneuver using the move repeatedly.''


    "Yes. Opponents like these are the perfect training exercises."


    ''I agree, my lord. Very well, I shall do as you command.''


    Our match wasn''t long in coming. The trainer in front of me was about my age, with vibrant blonde hair and bottle-green eyes. She was short and hopping up and down with such energy that she reminded me of a pichu.


    "Hey, haven''t seen you around," she called with a grin.


    "Aaron. From Mossdeep. I decided to make Mauville my first badge and heard about this thing last minute. You?"


    "Sweet! I get the mysterious out-of-towner! I''m Sparky and I''m gonna give you a real shock!" she cried as she hurled her pok¨¦ball forward.


    Out of the prismatic lights stepped a yellow and black furred creature. It had two protrusions on its head that were too blunt to be horns, so blunt that they looked more like the vertical inserts of an electric plug.


    "An elekid¡­ she has a fucking elekid," I gasped. I wanted one. Badly. "Of course the girl named Sparky would have an electric type."


    "Heh, hear that, Lucky? He''s jealous."


    "Le-Elekid!" it shouted, bouncing with as much energy as its trainer.


    "I was at the top of my class here so Leader Wattson let me choose my starter first," she bragged, "and he was the best of them all!"


    "Yeah, I''ll bet."


    ''My liege?''


    "We might have to change our plans a bit, Artoria," I told her. "Elekid become some of the strongest electric types around. They''re no slouches even in their pre-evolutions. Forget about the ''no Mana Edge'' rule."


    She stiffened. ''Is the bouncy creature so strong?''


    "Strong enough that you can''t take it lightly."


    ''Very well, but I still wish to practice combat teleportation.''


    "Agreed. Give it your all."


    ''I always do.''


    With that confident rejoinder, she jumped down from my shoulder and made her way to the center of the field.


    The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.


    "A ralts? Who starts with a ralts?"


    "Trainers from Mossdeep do. I was first there so Leader Fulan let me pick a ralts."


    She pumped her fist into the air. "Woah. I guess we''re rivals then! Can you feel the electricity in the air?"


    "No," I deadpanned.


    "Aww, why do you have to kill the buzz like that?"


    "Talking to you is exhausting. Can we please just battle?"


    "Fine. Lucky! Let''s bring down the thunder!"


    "ELEKID!" Somehow, the demented Energizer bunny got louder, before he began to windmill his arms. I remembered in my old life when I did the same thing as a kid, thinking the blood flowing to my fists would make me punch harder or some shit. Bigger windup, stronger attack, right? Like Donkey Kong?


    It was really stupid in hindsight, but what was painful chuuni-ness to six year old Aaron was apparently a valid tactic for an elekid.


    Lucky the elekid ran forward with some cokehead energy, fists whirling with electricity. I took in its charge and the way the electricity condensed around his fists. It unsurprisingly knew Thunder Punch.


    I couldn''t remember exactly, but elekid learned Thunder Punch at a much higher level in the games. In reality, thanks to their well-developed upper bodies, it was one of the first moves the pok¨¦mon learned upon birth. However, one thing remained consistent: Because they lacked the internal batteries of their evolved forms, they needed to constantly windmill their arms to maintain a charge, meaning they tired very quickly.


    "Suri-age. Edge," I barked.


    Artoria obeyed immediately, shifting her stance to sweep the incoming punch. Her spoon-sword lashed upward, parrying his attack into the air. Just as she''d practiced on the marill''s Bubble Beam several days back, Mana Edge detonated, its impact stopping Lucky from following up with its left fist.


    "Ralts!" she yelped in pain, nearly dropping her spoon. The electrical current in Lucky''s arms traveled through the metal spoon and was almost enough to disarm her.


    "Hiki-do!" I shouted.


    She shuffled backwards and cleaved downward, striking Lucky''s body in one fluid motion. By aiming for the body instead of his horns or wrists, she was able to avoid shocking herself again. It wasn''t a trick that would have worked on an electabuzz.


    We took a breath and gauged one another from across the field. I nodded in approval; the moment the battle began, Sparky had toned down her enthusiasm, sharpening it into razor focus.


    "Artoria, Lucky tires easily so we''re going to play a game of tag," I told her.


    ''Yes, my liege.''


    "Wanna bet on that? Lucky! Quick Attack!" Sharon shouted.


    "Mana Burst. Evade and parry only."


    Thus began their game of cat and mouse. Artoria crossed a quarter of the field with a single Mana Burst, only for Lucky to catch up just as quickly. She stepped to the side using just the footwork of nuki waza and juked her opponent. Two more times she narrowly evaded a punch.


    "Hah! Lucky''s faster!"


    It wasn''t strictly true. In a short distance, Mana Burst''s instant acceleration was unmatched. But in a prolonged game of tag like this, Artoria was clearly outmatched. An elekid was meant for speed and physical power while ralts just weren''t. More importantly, Mana Burst could only be used in straight lines.


    Still, we had a trick up our sleeves.


    "Teleport," I barked.


    Artoria''s eyes glowed with azure light before a violet glow enveloped her. Then, just as Lucky''s hand reached out to grasp his target, she was gone, by my side in an instant. Just like that, we were back to square one.


    "What? No! That''s so unfair!"


    "And why''s that? Should Lucky never use his electricity then? Why shouldn''t a ralts teleport? It''s their bread and butter," I said confidently, but I could tell Artoria was tiring quickly. Her iron discipline, not unlike her namesake, would never allow her to show her exhaustion to an enemy, but her stamina wasn''t infinite either. "Teleport freely and go in to trip him up mid-Quick Attack," I whispered. "Let his own momentum fight for you."


    ''Yes, my liege.''


    "Now, here comes round two!"


    "Fine. Thunder Shock, make her dance!"


    Lucky wound his arms for a second and released a bold of electricity that arced through the air towards Artoria. It was on target, but only just barely. She stepped aside with ease and even though no one could see her eyes under the bangs, I would have bet anything that they were rolling right now.


    "We¡­ We''re going to work on that¡­"


    I decided not to comment on that. "Go."


    My ralts dashed forward before blurring into a Mana Burst that crossed half the field. Just as Lucky began to raise his arms to catch her swing, she teleported behind him, giving his knee a good smack. The combination of Mana Burst and Teleport meant she couldn''t stack Mana Edge on top of that though so he wasn''t instantly taken out of the fight. Still, it was enough to force the elekid to one knee.


    Skipping back, Artoria nodded magnanimously and waited for her opponent to stand. I made a mental note to talk to her about that later. Showing chivalry here was fine, but I feared that there may come a day when that kind of hesitation would end disastrously for us.


    The two closed again at some unspoken signal.


    "Lucky, Double Team!"


    He elekid split into four copies that briefly caught Artoria by surprise. A Thunder Punch came from every direction, forcing her to teleport away.


    "Copy that," I said.


    "Oh, come on!"


    "Hang back. Debana waza. Read me."


    There was always a hair-thin connection between us at all times, but I felt it expand for the briefest moment as Artoria linked herself to me. With a nod, all four copies of Artoria charged forward, mirrored by the four elekids.


    Then, there wasn''t a single thing either Sparky or I could say. The field devolved into a brawl with eight participants. I could tell which copies were the real elekid and ralts by virtue of my empathy, but even then, the rapid mix of twists and turns made giving any instructions all but impossible. If anything, I''d likely just distract her.


    An elekid''s fist collided with a ralts'' face, only for both pok¨¦mon to phase through the other. A ralts struck through a second elekid. Then the moment came.


    Artoria''s aura of white-hot will ignited furiously. Like me, she was relying on her empathy and had never lost track of the real elekid. One of the ralts moved to block an elekid, only for a second to teleport immediately behind him and take a full horizontal swing towards his head.


    "Kid!" he yelled in pain as he was knocked away. All copies vanished as their master stopped concentrating on the move.


    Artoria smelled blood in the water and gave chase. She was behind him, right at his landing point in a flash of blue, and braced for one final strike.


    "Lucky! Thunder Punch! Guard your head," came Sparky''s shout.


    He wasn''t able to course-correct mid-air, but he did manage to bring his arms up, cradling his face as electricity danced along hist fists.


    "Elekid!"


    "Ralts!"


    The two collided in a pure anime moment. There was an explosion as Artoria''s Mana Edge detonated against Lucky''s Thunder Punches. Before the smoke could clear, the two were knocked out of the cloud by the other. Lucky skidded to a stop as Artoria did the same fifteen feet away, locked in the final motion of their finishers.


    Artoria sank to one knee, bracing her weight on her weapon.


    Then, a moment later, Lucky collapsed backward, unable to support himself either. Electricity sparked between his horns once, then fell silent.


    Seconds later, Artoria used her spoon to lift herself to her feet. She turned and painstakingly took the ch¨±dan stance, the opening stance of kendo I''d drilled into her head time and time again. She was panting. I could see her knees trembling even through her robes, but her sword was steady. She glanced at her downed opponent and locked eyes with Sparky as if to say, "Who''s next?"


    There was stunned silence, then the teacher held out my flag. "Aaron and ralts are the victors!" she proclaimed as the crowd erupted with applause.


    I walked up to my ralts and gave her a once-over. I frowned. She wasn''t ready for another battle so soon. She''d surely need the full day to recover.


    I raised my hand. "We resign from the tournament. I don''t think she can be in any more battles," I said.


    It took her a moment to process, but the teacher nodded with my decision. "Very well, then we have a double-knockout. The second round of the tournament will continue after fifteen minutes."


    I gently picked her up in my hands and carried her towards the exit. "Let''s go get you to the pok¨¦mon center."


    A small hand stopped me. ''I wish to watch the rest of the tournament, my lord,'' she said.


    "Are you sure?"


    ''Yes, my injuries are not too severe.''


    "Alright, I''m going to go see if the school nurse has a sponge."


    ''Understood.''


    I carried her back to the stand and sat her in a good viewing spot before heading to the nurse. There, I met Sparky again.


    "That was awesome!" she said, her usual enthusiasm back now that she wasn''t dead-focused on a battle. Even the limp elekid in her arms didn''t seem to dampen her spirits.


    "It was," I said, favoring her with a smile. I didn''t expect anyone my age to be able to beat Artoria "Lucky''s strong."


    "Ele¡­" the yellow cat-rabbit grinned and gave me a thumbs up.


    "Yeah, I didn''t think anyone in this tournament would be able to give him too much trouble. We mostly entered so Lucky could work on Double Team against easier opponents."


    "Hah, Artoria and I entered for similar reasons. Teleport for us."


    "Yeah, it was a real shocker, eh?" she grinned playfully. "Your ralts was electrifying. Get it?"


    "Unfortunately¡­"


    "Hey, give me your number. I want to battle you again."


    Normally getting a cute girl''s number would have been flattering, even if I was still in the "I''m mentally old enough to be your dad" mindset, but I was in a bit of a rush. "Sorry, I''m going to go ask the nurse for a sponge or something."


    "Sponge?"


    "Ralts and some of the smaller pok¨¦mon need specific doses of potion and spray bottles aren''t very precise."


    "Huh, you know a lot about psychics, huh?"


    "Mom''s Sharon Fulan so yeah."


    "Woah, your mom''s the gym leader? No wonder I lost."


    "No. None of that," I said crossly. "I don''t magically become an expert because my mom happens to be a psychic mistress. Blaming the achievements of others on their background discredits the work they put in and condemns you to mediocrity."


    "I¡­ Yeah, you''re right. Sorry."


    "We''re good."


    As I returned with two warm sponges, a potion, and a paralyze heal, I heard her mutter. "Here and gone like a storm, eh? As expected of my rival."


    X


    Back at the stands, I measured out the appropriate amount of potion and began to rub down my pok¨¦mon with it, first her arms and then her scraped knees.


    ''My lord!'' she squeaked as I prodded her knee. ''I can treat myself!''


    "You can," I said. I took the second sponge and began to massage her leg with paralyze heal, rubbing in the lotion as the little ralts squirmed.


    ''This is embarrassing.''


    "Hush. Let me pamper you once in a while. Besides, didn''t you want to watch the matches?"


    ''Hauuu¡­''


    The treatment only lasted a few minutes. After that, I sat Artoria on my lap and snacked on some oran berries I''d nabbed from the pok¨¦mon center canteen as we watched the proceedings.


    Unfortunately, the battles were¡­ lacking. They lacked the raw energy of Sparky and Lucky and they of course couldn''t hope to compete with my little knight''s technical skill and mobility.


    The most interesting battle we saw was between a mankey and magnemite. The mankey''s trainer was like me, an out-of-towner, while the magnemite''s trainer likewise scored high enough on his TLE to warrant a starter from Wattson. That battle ended when the magnemite overcame its type disadvantage with a mix of Thunder Shocks and Sonic Booms, using its better range to simply never get hit.


    I wanted to say that such a tactic wouldn''t work on me and Artoria, but I wasn''t sure. Artoria was far more agile than the mankey thanks to Mana Burst and Teleport. She was also more disciplined than the mankey, but I didn''t think that alone would be enough for her to deal with a ranged steel type.


    "See that magnemite?" I told her. "Do you think you can beat it?"


    ''I believe its steel shell would be difficult to bypass.''


    "We''re going to start working on Shadow Sneak soon since Teleport seems combat-ready now."


    ''Yes, my lord.''


    We made our way out of the school the moment the last battle ended. As we left, we overheard more than a few say that the battles tapered off in quality. That brought a smirk to both our faces; recognition felt good.


    X


    The rest of the day was mellow. Even after a visit to the pok¨¦mon center, Artoria was in no shape to battle or train so we took the afternoon to take care of some shopping. It had been a month since we started our journey and so the Mossdeep Gym deposited an extra 5,000 LC into my account. Right now, I had 9,325 LC, or about $932.5 back in my world.


    It wasn''t much, but considering I didn''t need to pay for room and board at a pok¨¦mon center, it was plenty. 5,000 LC was enough for the Protect TM back in Slateport, though I didn''t know how much that would be here. I was also open to other options, depending on what caught my eye.


    I spent 3,200 LC on various rations, potions, and berries. It was a little bit excessive, but that was what happened when you gave someone a hammerspace bag. That left me with 6,125 LC to browse the TM stores.


    I waffled back and forth between Will-O-Wisp and Protect but eventually settled on the defensive option. It wasn''t just useful for my ralts after all. As tempting as the idea of a flaming sword was, the practicality of my entire team being able to use Protect swayed me.


    Author''s Note


    RN means registered nurse, though that title means much more in the pok¨¦mon world.


    I swear Sparky Soto wasn''t supposed to be a major character. The trainer school mini-tournament was just that, a little thing to get Artoria''s Teleport up to speed. But here it is. Sometimes, scenes just write different.


    Thank you for reading. To reach a wider audience, and because I enjoy a more forum-like setup to facilitate discussion, I like to crosspost to a wide variety of websites. You can find them all on my Link Tree: https://linktr.ee/fabled.webs.</a>

 1.10 Appetizer

    Appetizer 1.10


    Aaron Fulan


    Mauville City, Hoenn Region


    The day after the mini-tournament, I decided to indulge a bit of my curiosity. Near the southwestern sector of the city, just west of the industrial district, was the entertainment district. In the original Ruby and Sapphire, you could find the Game Corner there. Win enough games or simply buy enough tokens and you could trade them in for great TMs like Thunderbolt, Flamethrower, and Ice Beam. In Omega Ruby and Alpha Sapphire, the Game Corner was closed.


    But of course, this was a real-life metropolis. There was no way in hell that there would be only one casino in a city this size. I really wanted to know what it''d look like.


    I walked down the bustling streets with Artoria on my shoulder. We could tell the exact moment we''d stepped into the entertainment district because warehouses gave way to bright, neon lights and signs depicting everything from fancy cocktails to cards and dice.


    Looking around, I immediately ran into a problem: Most of these weren''t open.


    In hindsight, of course they weren''t. Most clubs didn''t open until at least five in the afternoon and it seemed that casinos and gambling dens in this world were no different. The ones that were¡­


    "Sorry, kid. We don''t serve people under eighteen," one said.


    "Sir, this is a professional establishment. Please return with appropriate attire."


    "Buy-in is 15,000 LC. Move along, brat."


    Yeah¡­ Most that were open at ten in the morning were either extremely high class or definitely not the kind of place friendly to casual visitors.


    ''Are you surprised, my liege?'' Artoria''s voice rang with disapproval in my mind. ''This seems like a disreputable hobby. Can we please get back to training?''


    "I told you, games like poker are a battle of wits. It''s training too," I defended myself.


    ''Oh? So you would have no problem with explaining your training regimen to Lady Sharon or my father?''


    I paled. Even from halfway across the region, mention of my mother''s wrath was enough to send a shiver down my spine. She absolutely would send Quinn to slap me upside the head. "N-Now, Artoria, there''s no need for that."


    ''I shall be sure to espouse the wonders of your new training methods.''


    "Artoria? Come on!"


    She hopped off my shoulder before blurring away in a display of Mana Burst. I chased her all the way back to the pok¨¦mon center, apologizing all the while. It wasn''t until I bribed her with her favorite poffin that she agreed not to tell on me.


    Alas, poker would not be a hobby I''d get to indulge in anytime soon.


    X


    That was how we found ourselves at the Battle Caf¨¦ recommended to us by Nurse Joy.


    Technically, there were other restaurants that started serving customers with a similar business model, but when people mentioned the Battle Caf¨¦, they were talking about LeMar Trainer''s Caf¨¦. The caf¨¦ was an import from Kalos, the business model being made popular by Elite Four Siebold there. Hell, if Nurse Joy was right, the owner of LeMar imported his cloches from Kalos because he swore nowhere else made them right.


    How anyone could fuck up a metal bell used to cover food with, I had no clue. But hey, I wasn''t a chef.


    The interior of the restaurant was set up so that tables and booths encircled an empty central square. It reminded me of a dance floor I''d seen at weddings, except the floor was reserved for battling customers. The owner''s kadabra acted as the barrier-maker to protect spectators.


    I walked up to the host, a boy several years my age with a friendly customer service smile that didn''t quite reach his eyes.


    "Hello, table for one?" he said.


    "Yes, please."


    "Would you like to battle one of our trainers while you wait?"


    "That sounds great. I only started my journey a month ago though."


    "That''s fine, sir. We have a number of trainers with a variety of badge levels. In fact, I think there are two who are working part-time here now who recently graduated. I will warn you that you must abide by our strict limitations on pok¨¦mon sizes. We cannot allow overly destructive pok¨¦mon onto the field."


    "Okay, thank you. I''ll be battling with a ralts so I don''t think that''ll be an issue."


    He handed me a menu and left. Soon after, a young trainer in a waiter''s outfit arrived.


    "Hello, my name is Cutler and I''ll be your server today," he said with a bright grin. "What can I get you?"


    "Can I get the roast beef sandwich for myself and a pecha-sitrus parfait for my ralts? Oh, and some fries for the table, please."


    "Sure, no problem. Let me put that in. You also wanted a battle, right?"


    "Yes."


    "Okay, I''ll be right back."


    When Cutler returned, he motioned me to the center of the square. There, he released a roselia that was a little bigger than other specimens I''d seen before. It stood three inches taller than Artoria, though that admittedly wasn''t saying much, and cloaked itself in leaves reminiscent of a rosebud. A rose adorned each of its hands, one blue and the other red. I''d been told that experienced breeders could alter the color of their flowers and that white roses were considered particularly beautiful, not that I''d know anything about flowers.


    "My roselia and I will be your opponent, customer," Cutler said.


    "Sounds good. Artoria, ready?"


    ''Always, my lord.''


    She stepped onto the field and the owner''s kadabra teleported to one side, raising a series of psychic barriers that would block stray attacks but not sounds.


    "Good. A roselia isn''t too fast, but it''s got excellent ranged options and can heal itself reliably. It also produces different types of poisons."


    She frowned. ''A cowardly fighting style.''


    "No such thing," I reprimanded her. "That roselia is facing you in single combat. Respect it."


    ''My apologies. You are correct.''


    "Good. Close in with Mana Burst but be ready to use Double Team."


    "Kick it off with Leech Seed," Cutler said.


    The roselia swept its hands in two scything arcs, firing off half a dozen seeds. Artoria blurred forward, using the head of her spoon as a makeshift shield and fan to blow the seeds off course before they could contact her body.


    As she drew near, her opponent grew agitated and shot out a barrage of Poison Stings, forcing her to halt her advance and scatter into four copies.


    The roselia chittered nervously, a cross between a chirp and a croon. They were already at a stalemate so soon into the battle. Artoria''s four copies circled the roselia, unable to get any closer, but the roselia was surrounded and desperately looking for the real one. By its reaction, I could tell that it wasn''t much of a fighter; it might panic in close combat. Then again, Poison Sting might be among the weakest poison type moves, but Artoria wouldn''t like taking one regardless.


    "Teleport. Hiki-kote," I barked.


    My little knight was covered in blue light for a moment, then vanished to appear behind and a little to the left of her opponent. Her three clones mirrored the move and the roselia was suddenly surrounded by four ralts up close.


    "Ro! Roselia!" it squeaked. As I thought, it panicked, scattering a stunning number of Poison Stings around it.


    It swerved wildly, the needles of virulent poison phasing harmlessly through Artoria''s clones. It was about to turn to the final copy when Artoria''s blade met its bouquet, a powerful Mana Edge launching its aim off course.


    After that, the battle as all but won. It was no longer able to aim properly with one arm and coupled with Artoria''s talents in misdirection and teleportation, it never recovered.


    "You''re really strong, dear customer," Cutler said, though his smile was somewhat strained. His aura was a little mix of green and red, envy and anger, though nothing severe enough to be called such. He seemed more disappointed with himself than anything. If I had to guess, he was likely just some guy who couldn''t save up enough for his own journey or hook a good sponsor and was working part-time to gather some funds..


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    "Artoria spends a lot of time training," I told him. "Your roselia was impressive too. I didn''t know they could spray that many Poison Stings at once."


    When our food came, we both marveled at the parfait. The roast beef sandwich looked fine, it was pink taurus beef piled onto ciabatta roll with pickled onions and spicy mustard, but it was obvious that the restaurant went out of its way to make the desserts look like something out of a magazine.


    The parfait was a layer of shortcake stacked with vanilla ice cream, pecha and sitrus berry compote, a second layer of ice cream, chocolate ganache, more compote, and whipped cream garnished with a mini poffin glazed with some kind of special frosting on top. The glass it was served in was so tall that Artoria couldn''t see over the top even when she stood on the table. It came with two serving spoons, the long thin variety often used to stir cocktails.


    ''Waahhh¡­''


    "Excited?"


    ''M-My lord¡­ I have seen Avalon,'' she said.


    "Pffttt, I told you, Avalon is the ''ever distant utopia'' that is said to be the home of the fae. It''s not a parfait."


    ''"Fae" or "par-fae" I see no difference. Surely this is the first step to such a wondrous place.''


    "Hahaha." I reached out to pet my partner, ruffling her strange bowl cut. I then noticed something. "Artoria, are your horns getting bigger?"


    ''My lord?''


    I rubbed them some more, ignoring her fidgeting. "Hold still a minute. Yeah, I think they''re a little longer. See? I can use the parfait layers like measuring sticks."


    ''I¡­ Should I be worried?''


    "No, this means your psychic abilities are growing and that you''re close to evolution."


    ''That''s great news. I shall evolve and become an even greater knight!'' she proclaimed.


    I plucked the poffin from the top and set it in front of her, dolloping out a generous serving of whipped cream and ganache. "Here, this is one more reason to celebrate."


    ''You mean to not tell Lady Sharon you may be developing a gambling habit, my lord?'' she leered.


    "Hey, we agreed that this would be the end of it."


    ''Hmph, my duties as a knight include keeping my young lord on the straight and narrow.''


    I sighed but couldn''t help a little smile as I watched her aura dance with violet and blue. "When did my cute little knight develop such an attitude?"


    ''When did my young lord develop a gambling habit?''


    "Just eat your poffin, you glutton."


    I took one of the serving spoons and dipped deep into the glass until I reached some of the shortcake and berry compote. I raised it to my lips and savored the sweet-sour flavor. The shortbread was moist, though that didn''t detract from the flavor in any way. LeMar really did do parfaits well.


    Forgetting about my roast beef sandwich, I took another bite, only to meet Artoria''s judging stare.


    "Yes?"


    ''That is mine,'' she pouted.


    "Oh, fine." I set the spoon down next to her.


    She looked at the spoon, a much longer affair with a smaller head than the one she used in combat. She took it in hand and carefully wiped off the residual cream with a napkin before holding it out alongside her own. ''My lord¡­''


    "Hmm?"


    ''Father dual-wields.''


    "He does." I thought about mom''s gallade, Quinn, easily the strongest member of the species I''d ever seen. "He''s got organic blades that pop out of his elbows."


    ''Should¡­ Should I wield another sword as well?''


    "Pffttt, is that what you''re doing right now? Shopping for weapons?"


    ''This is no laughing matter! A knight must be equipped to counter every threat.''


    I waved my hands in mock surrender. "Okay, okay, I kid. I know that for whatever reason, psychics are drawn to spoons and that silver is the best conductor of psychic energy. That''s why I gave you that specific spoon, because it''s made of silver. I don''t think the one here in LeMar uses silver."


    ''True¡­ We should go weapons shopping.''


    I chuckled at the idea of "weapons shopping" at a kitchen supply store and booped her nose. "When you''re a kirlia and tall enough to use two spoons, you can choose to do so if you wish. I personally think using one is fine since that''s the style I''m familiar with."


    ''I see¡­ I will not be able to receive your instruction if I pick up a second weapon.''


    "Well, keep in mind that though dual-wielding sounds cool, it''s much harder to coordinate your weapons and you tend to leave yourself open. A gallade has the benefit of instinct that comes with a fighting type and a natural awareness of his own organic weapons. You don''t. And even then, a newly evolved gallade needs some time to adjust to a completely different fighting style than when he was a kirlia. Each individual strike becomes much weaker as well because you can''t put your full strength into it."


    ''Would not Mana Edge counter such a thing?'' she said as she took a bite of her poffin. She took a moment to savor the snack with a blissed out expression before continuing. ''My power comes from my technique, not my physical body.''


    "True, but can you focus on three or four techniques at once? You already use Mana Burst in conjunction with Double Team, but throw in two Mana Edges into that and you''ll start having trouble. I''m sure it''ll be possible eventually, but I''m saying it''s going to take a lot of work. Master one weapon first, then you can decide to branch out if you wish."


    ''You are correct, my lord. My lord is wise.''


    In the end, for all her jealous guardianship of her parfait, Artoria couldn''t finish more than a third of it. To be fair, I didn''t finish my entire order either. LeMar''s portion sizes were impressive. The two of us left LeMar with a box containing a third of a roast beef sandwich, some fries, and a small cup of shortcake, compote, and cream. I did get to introduce her to the wonders of dipping salty fries in ice cream though. The look of pure marvel on her face at the unexpected flavor combination was a treat unto itself.


    X


    Aaron Fulan


    New Mauville, Hoenn Region


    The two of us couldn''t waste the entire afternoon, however fun the Battle Caf¨¦ may have been, so we left our leftovers in the mini-fridge in our room back at the pok¨¦mon center and headed out again.


    As much as I said sour grapes, I hadn''t fully given up on having a second teammate before the gym battle. I was no longer as hung up on having an electrike, but I did want at least one electric type. There wasn''t really a reason beyond that my inner ten year old squealed with delight at all the flashy attacks, but that was the only reason I needed.


    And that was why Artoria and I were at the outskirts of New Mauville, the district that was all but built, then completely shut down and cordoned off in favor of giving the local electric types a sort of sanctuary. It still boggled my mind sometimes how dedicated Hoenn''s government was to environmental concerns, though I supposed that if Earth''s wildlife could cause mass blackouts and shoot lightning out their mouths, its governments probably would have been more open to appeasement strategies as well.


    Now, New Mauville generated much of the power for both Mauville City and surrounding precincts using a combination of wind, solar, and hydroelectric means. It generated so much power in fact that local electric types gathered to feed on it, including the rare electabuzz.


    The area boss was apparently a magnezone who was very protective of the renewable energy source. It worked with rangers in the area to make sure electric types didn''t take too much and that the wild pok¨¦mon were free from trainer harassment. It was even smart enough to let a dedicated team of electricians and maintenance crew in once every few months to see to the facility''s upkeep.


    Although trainers needed Wattson''s express approval to enter New Mauville proper, there was even a retinal scanner, the outskirts were fair game. It housed several species that had organic bodies and so did not require raw electricity to survive.


    We found ourselves in a small clearing a hundred feet or so from the entrance to New Mauville. The area was full of green grass and herbs but free of easily accessible berries, fewer competition for my bait to work. I left Artoria to work off her heavy lunch and got to work laying out a spread of different foods, especially those I''d bought from the market catering towards electric types.


    Personally, they all looked like kibbles, but they apparently had a subtle scent that electric types favored. Artoria tried one out of curiosity and described the taste as "tingly," whatever that meant.


    I watched Artoria swing her spoon. She was now advanced enough that she didn''t need to stick to established kata. Instead, she did the kendoka''s equivalent of shadowboxing. She twirled and struck at imaginary opponents, careful to incorporate a mixture of Double Team, Mana Burst, and Teleport in her movements.


    With nothing to do, I booted up my pok¨¦dex and began to read from the Mossdeep Archives. This time, it was a journal from my great great grandfather who was traveling the desert path north of Mauville when he encountered a claydol. He wrote about the almost machine-like intelligence of the species and came up with the hypothesis that these creatures were created by human hands by an ancient civilization many eons ago.


    Fascinating subject, though I personally didn''t know how it''d help. For that matter, the only reasons he believed they were human creations were their alien intelligence and a few pictures he found on pottery. His conclusions were interesting, if premature.


    It took us a few hours, not that lounging around in the pleasant sun was any hardship, but we did get a visitor. Surprisingly, it was not an electrike, magnemite, nor a voltorb.


    "What''s a mareep doing here?" I wondered. I watched as it came over and began snacking on the pok¨¦chow with nary a glance my way. "Artoria, how many life signs near me?"


    ''Sixteen, my liege, none like the fluffy creature.''


    "That''s odd, mareep usually live in flocks guarded by a flaffy or ampharos."


    ''Perhaps it is lost?''


    "Maybe¡­ Can you ask?"


    ''Of course.'' She stopped her sword practice and walked up to the mareep before chattering in pok¨¦speak.


    "Mareep," it baahed excitably. It wasn''t like any sheep I was familiar with, but damn if it didn''t sound like one. "Mar, mareep."


    ''It is a she and she struck out on her own to find her own flock,'' Artoria translated dutifully.


    "Do you mean that she is looking for a trainer?"


    ''I believe so. She wishes to become an ampharos who can light up the night, as radiant as the sun.''


    I grinned. "Okay, that''s perfect. Can you ask if she''d like to join us?"


    "Ralts. Ra-ralts."


    "Mareep. Maa?"


    "Ralts."


    Both pok¨¦mon nodded before the mareep turned and approached me. I knelt and held out a hand, letting her smell me. I remembered reading somewhere that sheep had an excellent sense of smell and though I had no idea if that applied to mareep, I figured it wouldn''t hurt.


    She sniffed my hand for a bit and began to nuzzle under my palm. Then the static started.


    "Yow!" I yelped.


    "Maa?"


    "Just a bit of static. Remind me to buy some shockproof clothing," I told Artoria. I withdrew an empty pok¨¦ball from my belt and realized that I''d actually have to distinguish them now. So far, I''d been leaving Artoria''s ball on the other side.


    A part of me expected more fanfare from my first capture, but it wasn''t meant to be. The ball shook once, twice, thrice, then it was done; I had a mareep. With a flick of my wrist, I popped the ball open and let her out again.


    "Okay, so you want to become an ampharos?"


    "Mareep! Ma maa-reep!"


    ''A "brilliant, radiant ampharos that lights up the night and out outshines the sun," my lord,'' Artoria said dryly.


    "Was that a word for word translation?"


    ''Indeed.''


    "Okay, well¡­ I named you after a legendary knight so I should stick with the theme¡­ Say, how does Jeanne sound?"


    "Mareep?"


    ''"Who was that?" she said.''


    "Jeanne de Arc, also sometimes called Jeanne of Orleans, was a saint who is famous for inspiring her people. In a time when women didn''t go to war, she volunteered and lead her village in several victories against invaders. In her home, she''s still considered a beacon of hope many centuries later."


    "Mareep!"


    ''"That name is perfect for I will become the radiant sun that inspires hope!" she said.''


    I ruffled my excitable new sheep and suppressed a wince as the static jumped from her wool to my hand. She was sinfully soft¡­ and also very zappy. "Hahaha, I guess I just can''t get a normal team, can I?"


    ''I am normal!''


    "Mareep!"


    Author''s Note


    I kind of wanted a scene where Aaron uses his empathic abilities to game a poker table like the 40+ year old boss that he is, but then Artoria¡­


    LeMar Trainer''s Caf¨¦ is the Mauville Food Court in ORAS. The cloches thing is a true bit of trivia you get from talking to the NPCs there. One also mentions seeing Glacia around. Everyone you battle in that caf¨¦ is named after cooking terms such as cutlery, schnitzel, etc.


    Yup second pok¨¦mon is a mareep. Why? Because I don''t think I''ve ever seen one used in a protagonist''s team. Will all of Aaron''s team be chuuni? Who knows?


    Thank you for reading. To reach a wider audience, and because I enjoy a more forum-like setup to facilitate discussion, I like to crosspost to a wide variety of websites. You can find them all on my Link Tree: https://linktr.ee/fabled.webs.</a>

 1.11 Appetizer

    Appetizer 1.11


    Aaron Fulan


    New Mauville, Hoenn Region


    I only had one more day before my first gym battle. Last night, I agonized over what would be the best way to use my time.


    Ultimately, I came to the conclusion that Artoria was as ready as she could get. Her swordsmanship was stellar. Mana Burst and Mana Edge were mastered. She was capable of combat teleportation, though with a slight delay between motions. She could even teleport while using Double Team to further sell the illusion. Shadow Sneak was a bit challenging, but usable in combat. And best of all, she was a hair''s breadth from evolution.


    The ralts line used their quartz-like horns to absorb emotions and amplify their psychic power. A ralts with a broken horn could use psychic attacks, but they would be greatly weakened. Accordingly, the maturity of a ralts could be determined by the size of their horns proportionate to the rest of their body, and Artoria''s horns were as large as they''d get so I knew she was ready for evolution. She just needed one good catalyst, which I hoped would either come today or in the battle tomorrow.


    The League regulations stated that a gym leader was to test something different at each badge level, though different gyms had different ways of challenging trainers. To earn the first badge, a rookie trainer had to demonstrate the ability to make rudimentary plans prior to the battle. In other words, come in with a strategy in mind. To that end, the team used for the first badge was made publicly available.


    Wattson tested his rookies by using one voltorb and one electrike. Always. They were, almost without fail, faster than anything a rookie like me could reasonably have so the implicit test became "Show me how you''d prepare for a team geared around speed."


    I had full faith that Artoria could handle either, or possibly both, of them. It''d be hard, but doable given her progress so far.


    But I no longer needed her to fight a two versus one like that. I had Jeanne the Mareep now.


    The question remained: How could I make a freshly caught mareep capable of contributing to the battle tomorrow?


    That was why I found myself in the same clearing as yesterday.


    I hooked up my pok¨¦balls to the pok¨¦dex and inserted the TM I''d purchased days prior. Protect, the bread and butter of competitive pok¨¦mon, both in my past life and in this one. The shield wouldn''t be very strong right off the bat. In fact, I''d be impressed if it didn''t immediately shatter after the smallest attack. However, they only needed to work once.


    I let my team out once the download finished. "Hey, Artoria, Jeanne. How do you feel?"


    When the light faded, I found Artoria standing dignified as always. Jeanne on the other hand¡­


    "MA-MAREEP~~~" she bleated. She stood on two legs, both forelegs out in a Y-pose. The yellow bands on her horns and the bulb on her tail were glowing brightly as arcs of electricity danced along her fur. She was practically radiating joy and excitement, so much that I could almost feel her emotions like a physical force.


    "Do I want to know what she said?"


    ''"The radiant beacon of hope has arrived," my lord,'' Artoria repeated dutifully.


    "Mareep. Ree."


    ''She says she is practicing her shining ampharos pose.''


    I sighed but couldn''t suppress a smile. "Why can''t I have normal pok¨¦mon? Still, at least you''re enthusiastic, Jeanne. Maybe I''ll introduce you to the contest scene someday¡­"


    ''I do not see the value in such a thing.''


    "Of course not, Artoria. You''re a knight, but Jeanne''s just begging to be an idol."


    "Reep?"


    "Yeah, we''ll have to see about that later. Anyway, do either of you know Protect?"


    ''I know how to condense my aura into a shell. This is the move humans call "Protect," yes?''


    "It is. Do you know it too, Jeanne?" My mareep nodded eagerly. "Good, because Protect is one of the most important moves you can learn. It''s a move that will be useful even after you''ve fully evolved. Even if you don''t think it''s strong now, it''ll grow with you."


    ''I understand, my liege. I will do my utmost to master it completely.''


    "Mareep."


    "I''m glad. Now, I''m going to scan you both with my pok¨¦dex, okay? It''ll give us a better idea of what you both can do."


    I turned the pok¨¦dex to my ralts then mareep.


    Ralts, the "feeling pok¨¦mon." It is a species uniquely adapted to feed on emotions. In the wild, they live in communes lead by a gardevoir or gallade, though the odd kirlia have been known to lead a commune. Folklore says they only reveal themselves to those with joyful hearts. In reality, they have been shown to react to high concentrations of dopamine.


    This ralts is female and knows the moves Growl, Double Team, Protect, Teleport, Shadow Sneak, and Confusion.


    Mareep, the "wool pok¨¦mon." Its wool never stops growing and must be sheared regularly. Because of this, mareep remain one of the few pok¨¦mon species that require the help of others, be it pok¨¦mon or humans, to live healthy lives. They generate electricity through the static in their wool and store it in their horns and tail so shearing a mareep completely will leave it defenseless temporarily. They can however regrow their wool manually by stimulating their hair follicles with electricity.


    This mareep is female and knows the moves Charge, Cotton Spore, Electric Terrain, Protect, Thunder Wave, Tackle, and Thunder Shock.


    "Hmm¡­"


    ''It does not list Mana Burst nor Mana Edge, my lord,'' Artoria said with a frown.


    "Of course not. Those are moves that we came up with after adopting Confusion for a physical weapon. The pok¨¦dex only registers moves that are commonly recognized by all trainers."


    ''I see. It seems like a rather important limitation.''


    "It is, but it does give us a place to start. For example, Jeanne knows Electric Terrain, a move that most mareep wouldn''t know unless it was inherited from a parent, much like your Shadow Sneak."


    "Mareep!" she bleated, posing triumphantly.


    "But we won''t be using that in tomorrow''s battle," I said, causing her to visibly deflate. "Wattson is an electric type master who''s been a trainer longer than any of us have been alive. If we use Electric Terrain, I guarantee you he''ll use the field against us."


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    "Maa?"


    "Don''t worry, I have an idea. Artoria, you''re going to table Shadow Sneak for the moment; Teleport will be more useful tomorrow. Instead, focus on blending Teleport, Mana Burst, Mana Edge, and Double Team until you can use them all simultaneously or in quick succession. Tomorrow is almost certainly going to devolve into a giant game of tag so I want you to be ready for that.


    "Do that until lunch. And then, you''re going to figure out how to transition between Protect and Mana Edge after lunch so you can immediately block then counterattack in one smooth motion. Make sense?"


    ''Yes, my lord.''


    I saw her off and turned to my new pok¨¦mon. Truthfully, I wasn''t expecting much from her tomorrow. I had zero confidence in my ability to match types against Wattson, especially not with a freshly caught pok¨¦mon like Jeanne. She had potential, but that meant little in the here and now. Against any other gym, I would have had her attempt to paralyze her opponents, but that was impossible against Wattson.


    That left two options.


    I ushered Jeanne off to the side. "Jeanne, how bright can you shine?"


    "Ma?"


    "Use Charge. Charge as much electricity as you can," I instructed.


    "Maaaa¡­"


    I could see the static coalesce into stronger arcs of electricity and gather in her horns and tail. Then, when she began to strain, I turned away and said, "Shine. Shine as bright as you can!"


    "Mareep!"


    The clearing was filled with a bright light as electricity was converted directly into lumens. Flash. Some people called it a move, especially when they needed to teach it to a pok¨¦mon to explore a cave or navigate a dark forest. For the mareep line, it could barely be called a move; they did this on instinct.


    Granted, most electric types had eyes that were adapted towards bright lights as a byproduct of their own powers, but there had to be a limit. I planned to abuse Jeanne''s natural ability tomorrow.


    "Great job, Jeanne," I praised her. "Now, we''re going to call that Flash, okay?"


    "Reep."


    "Good, practice using Flash as quickly as possible. Cut down on charging time."


    My two pok¨¦mon worked on their assigned tasks until lunch. I shared my own lunch with Artoria, an egg and cheese sandwich with some leftover fries from Caf¨¦ LeMar alongside a side of fruit. Jeanne, being an herbivore, ate a mix of newly sprouted grass shoots, some of the electric type pok¨¦chow I''d bought, and a sprinkle of dried nuts and berries from my stockpile of trail mix. She seemed to really enjoy tart flavors.


    Artoria turned back to her training after two hours of rest so I could pay more attention to Jeanne.


    "Okay, think you''ve gotten a handle on Flash?"


    "Reep," she nodded.


    "Great, now we''re going to work on Cotton Spore. Show me what you can do right now."


    "Ma, mareep."


    And then, my little sheep exploded. She let loose a hail of woolen balls the size of basketballs that stuck to everything within a dozen feet of her, including me. I tried to shake them off, but static electricity kept them attached to my person. One wasn''t too debilitating, even for a regular human like me, but a dozen? It wasn''t the weight that got me, but the sheer volume of the wool she shed. I''d read that mareep could stimulate their own hair follicles to induce growth, but seeing it was a novel experience.


    "Okay¡­ let''s do that again¡­ after you roll me out of range¡­"


    "Reep!"


    X


    Aaron Fulan


    Mauville Gym, Hoenn Region


    The Mauville Gym loomed over the three of us. It was an institution that had been around since the founding of the city fifty-four years ago. If I remembered right, Wattson, who was the young head of security for the fledgling city, founded the gym to help new trainers become competent battlers. The man would then go on to help found the Greater Mauville Holding Company, the same that would sponsor both the expansion of Slateport into a true city eleven years later as well as the creation of New Mauville and Sea Mauville.


    True, both the latter projects got scrapped due to environmental concerns, but their conversion into environmental reserves ended up helping a lot of pok¨¦mon anyway.


    The point was, Wattson wasn''t just a gym leader; he was an icon. If Wallace represented what it meant to be both a stellar coordinator and a type master, Wattson represented the perfect blend of industrialist and type master.


    In light of that, the gym was¡­ honestly kind of disappointing.


    Oh, it was impressive enough, but it looked like a postmodern art piece, as though some young architect scrunched a ball of paper and modeled a building after the shape. It was a bunch of nonsensical angles and curves that couldn''t possibly serve any structural purpose.


    ''Do you dislike the building, my lord?''


    "I was hoping for something with a little more¡­ substance."


    ''I do not understand.''


    "Don''t worry, it''s not important. Ready?"


    ''Yes, my liege.''


    "Mareep."


    "Remember your strategies?"


    I got another chirp of affirmation. I thought back to all the gym battles I''d seen. I remembered watching Ash and Pikachu beat Brock''s onix with the power of¡­ sprinklers. As Aaron Fulan, I''d seen dozens of gym battles from ringside seats, perks of being the leader''s brat, but never had I been on this side of things.


    I took a deep breath. I was ready. I had all the information. My starter was unbelievably skilled for our level, even if my second wasn''t quite up to par. I grew up on gym battles.


    I was still nervous. There was a certain gravitas about the action, my first gym challenge.


    "Let''s go," I finally said.


    The gym lobby was remarkably plain. It looked like it could have fit in with any doctor''s office, not the heart and soul of Mauville''s training scene. Hell, knowing how eccentric Wattson was in the series, I was surprised to find not a single robot; there certainly wasn''t a mechanized raikou around to greet me with sparking fangs or a miniature rollercoaster to take me to the battlefield.


    "Hello, are you here for a gym challenge?" came the receptionist''s voice. He was a middle-aged man with a receding hairline. He still kept himself in good shape and filled out his Mauville Gym jersey well.


    "Yes, sir."


    "Do you have an appointment or would you like to schedule one?"


    "I have an appointment for ten in the morning. First badge."


    "Let me see¡­ Ah, Aaron Fulan is it? Yes, I''ve got you right here. Go ahead and take a seat. You''re a little early but that''s a good thing."


    "Yes, thank you, sir."


    I headed to the corner of the room and sat on a plush loveseat, sheep and knight tucked into my sides. I tuned out the world and picked up a copy of today''s Mauville Examiner, the most widely regarded newspaper in the Hoenn Region. I glanced at the clock; I didn''t have enough time to actually read an article, but I could give them a quick skim.


    "Dr. Kagari of Lilycove Museum of Natural History to Lead Excavation in Mt. Chimney," read the front page headline.


    I remembered visiting the museum once. It boasted one of the largest fossil exhibits in the world, with a dozen fossils that didn''t feature in the games but lacked the DNA concentration to be resurrected. It also had the largest rare rocks collection in the world, a significant portion purchased and donated to the museum by the Stone family.


    Still, it was the doctor who caught my eye. I felt like the name of the doctor should ring some bells, but I couldn''t for the life of me remember why¡­


    Shrugging, I flipped the page to the inter-regional affairs section. "Unova-Kalos Relations Cool as Anniversary of War''s End Approaches," read the first article.


    I vaguely remembered something about that. It was in the backdrop in the Pok¨¦mon X and Y games. If I remembered right, there were statues of Reshiram and Zekrom in the Parfum Palace, though I couldn''t recall exactly what the context was.


    Giving the article a quick glance, I snorted. Apparently, the Unovan ambassador was caught calling the Kalosian ambassador a frog when he thought he wasn''t being recorded. I rolled my eyes at that. Sure, Kalos was the France-analog in this world, but did even the slurs need to stay the same?


    I scanned further down.


    "Pok¨¦mon World Tournament Location Announced: Olivine City!" And, right below that, another article shouted, "World Coronation Series Begins! Will Galarian Champion Leon Defend His Throne?"


    Now this was interesting. The PWT was started by the International Pok¨¦mon League back in 320 AF to encourage collaboration between regions. It was held every five years in a different city, much like the Olympics, making this the fifth inaugural tournament.


    In contrast, the WCS was founded in 325 AF by the Galar and Kalos Leagues, who weren''t part of the IPL at the time. And of course, because they had to one-up their rivals, they held the WCS every three years instead of five.


    Though the IPL now included every region, the two global tournaments remained bitter rivals, with many elite trainers refusing to compete in one in favor of the other. Mom for example, absolutely loathed the WCS, calling it a "useless waste of time with rules that promotes garbage gimmicks and one-off tricks." She competed in the PWT twice.


    "Aaron Fulan?" I was drawn out of my readings by the receptionist calling my name. "Please head through the door on your right."


    I nodded. It was time.


    Author''s Note


    Shorter chapter today.


    As far as I''m concerned, every pok¨¦mon move uses aura of some sort. Aura can be typed beyond fighting and the distinction between fighting and normal type aura can be a matter of semantics.


    Note that Artoria gave up a lot of moves in exchange for learning Mana Burst and Mana Edge. A ralts that is ready to evolve should know Disarming Voice, Draining Kiss, and Hypnosis. She groomed herself into being a swordmaster, but in exchange delayed the development of her fairy typing by a significant margin.


    If you think about it, the World Series that''s currently going on in the anime (Ash is in the top 8) is honestly rigged as fuck.


    Thank you for reading. To reach a wider audience, and because I enjoy a more forum-like setup to facilitate discussion, I like to crosspost to a wide variety of websites. You can find them all on my Link Tree: https://linktr.ee/fabled.webs.</a>

 1.12 Appetizer

    Appetizer 1.12


    Aaron Fulan


    Mauville City, Hoenn Region


    I was led to a battlefield with no furnishments. Battles involving higher badge-levels could take place in a wide assortment of field designs, but there was nothing in the here and now.


    The eccentric gym leader stood at the far end in just a pair of comfortable sweatpants and a tan jacket. His bushy, white beard looked like it hadn''t seen a comb in months. The one part of his appearance he seemed to pay attention to was his hair. He has a single, white tuft on his otherwise bald head that he styled into the shape of a lightning bolt. I couldn''t imagine the amount of gel that took. All around him was the aura of happiness. It was good to see that the jolly old man wasn''t putting on an act.


    "Aaron Fulan!" he bellowed, making me flinch a bit. "Wahahaha! Are you ready for your challenge?"


    "Yes, Leader Wattson."


    "Good! We''ll get right on that then."


    Four League-provided baltoy hovered into the room and formed a psychic shield around the field. The ref, a young-ish gym trainer, stood at the side.


    "This is the gym battle between Aaron Fulan of Mossdeep City and Gym Leader Wattson," she shouted, enunciating clearing for League records. "This is the challenger''s first gym battle and will be a two on two battle in which only the challenger may make substitutions. Challenger, please send out your pok¨¦mon."


    I motioned for Jeanne to take the field. The mareep bleated cheerily and ambled onto the field, about as unbothered as I''d ever seen anyone. Sometimes, I wished I had Jeanne''s casual contentedness.


    "Leader Wattson, please release your pok¨¦mon."


    "Hoh, an electric type? You must be very confident in that mareep, boyo!" With a rambunctious laugh, he tossed a pok¨¦ball into the field, revealing a voltorb that shook with barely contained anger. So, really, a normal voltorb. "Pissed the fuck off" seemed like their natural state of existence. "If you came here expecting only electric type moves, you''re in for a real shock! Wahahaha, I crack myself up!"


    "Begin!" the ref called.


    "Wahahaha," Wattson let out another booming laugh. "Roll out the red carpet with Rollout, voltorb!"


    His shitty jokes made me want to groan audibly, but I didn''t have the time. The voltorb was fast. "Jeanne, Protect then Spore!"


    The voltorb careened into my little lamb just as an emerald shield stuttered to life around her. It cracked with a single collision, but it was enough to send the voltorb''s momentum elsewhere. Then, as the danger-ball began to course-correct, Jeanne positively exploded into a cloud of wool fluff.


    It was barely directed, couldn''t really be called an attack. I saw several fly in my direction and bounce off the psychic barriers. Within moments, my side of the field looked like a kindergarten''s attempt at an indoor "snow day."


    The voltorb took the brunt of the "attack." A tide of woolen balls rose up in front of it like a castle wall, slashing its momentum to a more manageable pace.


    "Now, Tackle!"


    "Ma-reep!" she cried as she charged forward. She wasn''t very fast, a little encumbered by her own newfound terrain, but she did have the benefit of horns. Like a miniature taurus, she flung herself horns-first at the wide-eyed voltorb, launching it back to Wattson''s side of the field.


    "Chase it, then Cotton Spore again."


    My little lamb dutifully ran over to Wattson''s own field. Instead of trying to tackle the ticking time bomb, she let out a bleating cry and drowned his field in woolen balls too.


    "Excellent use of terrain, challenger," Wattson complimented. His eyes sharpened and his aura flared with newfound interest. "Sonic Boom!"


    The voltorb screeched, letting out a wall of sound that impacted like a physical force. It wasn''t like the Sonic Boom of an exploud thankfully; it wasn''t leveling buildings or anything, but it was still enough to clear the woolen balls in the area, flinging them away to form a circle around it.


    It screeched again, a lower frequency this time, and a ripple of distorted air launched out like a missile and struck Jeanne. It was her turn to be flung across the field.


    "Mareep!" she cried in pain.


    "Now follow it with Rollout."


    The voltorb was too fast. It rolled around within its cleared circle until it built enough momentum to disregard the woolen spores. It then careened towards Jeanne, launching her into the psychic barriers before she could recover.


    She made a good showing, but in the end, she was too slow and too inexperienced to do much more. I had hoped that Jeanne would be able to defeat the voltorb and use Flash to blind the electrike, but that turned out to be too much to ask for.


    "Return," I recalled her with a gentle smile. "You were brilliant, Jeanne."


    "Challenger, please reveal your final pok¨¦mon," the ref said, as if it wasn''t obvious who my anchor would be.


    "Artoria, ready?"


    White flames of will blazed brightly around her. ''I will avenge my comrade,'' she swore in my mind, swinging her spoon forward into ch¨±dan.


    "Wahaha, that''s quite the fiery ralts you''ve got there. Electrifying! I like it!"


    "Nuki waza," I told her, our bond flickering with what I had in mind.


    Wattson''s brows furrowed. I didn''t just teach Artoria to respond to kendo forms because I thought it was cute, though it was; it also provided a significant advantage in battle. Good trainers, especially people with decades of experience like Wattson, could discern their opponents'' strategies from overhearing a handful of vocal commands.


    Unless Wattson was familiar with Kantoan sword arts in this world, that advantage was gone.


    "Rollout," he ordered.


    I said nothing, smiling genially as his voltorb rolled towards my ralts. Against a human, that would no doubt be bone-breaking force. Artoria''s smile mirrored my own.


    Then, a second before impact, she moved.


    She stepped forward, her foot gliding on the ground. A single step brought her adjacent to the voltorb. Her spoon collided with her opponent in a swerving arc, its head scooping up the ball pok¨¦mon like a lacrosse stick. For a fraction of a second, the voltorb ground against the spoon futilely.


    Then, the Mana Edge exploded.


    The blast launched the voltorb clear across the field until it was stopped painfully by the psychic barriers in front of Wattson, making the old man flinch slightly. For once, he had no jokes or puns. He wordlessly recalled the fallen voltorb.


    "Sorry, Jeanne needs some work, but Artoria''s my starter for a reason," I said. "If you underestimate her because she uses a spoon, you''re going to be in for a bad time."


    "I can see that," Wattson replied. Then, slowly, a wide grin split his face. "Wahahaha, alright, Aaron. I''ll admit the little missy''s got spark. Now, electrike, let''s bring the thunder!"


    With that, the pok¨¦mon I''d initially wanted appeared. I''d gotten pretty knowledgeable about the species over the past week. This electrike sported green fur with highlights of golden yellow around its mane. I noticed that the yellow had fully overtaken the sides, telling me that it was a mature specimen. The longer mane marked it as male.


    "Electrike, Quick Attack," Wattson barked.


    The lightning pok¨¦mon obeyed. To my untrained eyes, he all but disappeared in a blur of white. It was only the corona of emotions that surrounded him that allowed me to track his movements. In a second, he''d already crossed the field to clash fang to spoon against Artoria. I''d drilled into her head that head-on confrontations weren''t the way to go, but he was so fast that she didn''t have the chance to dodge away or throw out a Protect.


    She grit her teeth and dug in her heels, bracing as much as her slim body would allow. Even with Confusion bolstering her own physical strength, she was being pushed back.


    "Teleport," I said. I wanted to save it to surprise Wattson, but I wasn''t given much of a choice. In a flash of blue, she was in Wattson''s side of the field.


    She had positioned herself to place the bulk of the woolen spores between her and her opponent. If he wanted to reach her, he''d have to weave his way between the spores and do his best to not accumulate too many, giving her precious seconds to react.


    "Thunder Shock."


    "Lightning rod," I countered. I sent her a telepathic image of what I expected. Artoria stuck her metal spoon in the ground and stepped away, taking a knee to minimize her already short stature. The lightning sailed above her head, drawn to the silver.


    "Smart, but not good enough. Shock Wave!"


    Rather poor naming aside, the attack was dangerous. Electrike''s yellow highlights glowed blue as electricity coalesced in his fur. Then, he barked, sending an arc of directed lightning that ignored Artoria''s makeshift lightning rod completely to strike my unprepared starter.


    "Ralts!" she cried in pain.


    Seeing that baiting the electrike wouldn''t do any good, I made a snap decision. "Rush in," I told her. "Attack and don''t let up. Burst!"


    The lightly packed dirt beneath her feet cratered, sending a cloud of dust into the air as she shot out like a meteor. There was pain in her aura, but also resolve and joy. This was what she''d been waiting for, a chance to prove that her faith in the way of a knight was not misplaced.


    As though her sword had a mind of its own, it dug itself out of the ground and slapped into her outstretched hands.


    "Double Team!"


    "We can play that game. Match her, electrike!"


    It was almost a mirror copy of Artoria''s battle against Lucky the elekid. She split into six and the electrike followed. The twelve pok¨¦mon met in the middle of the field, but she wasn''t aiming for the electrike.


    Mana Edge struck the ground with a thunderous crack. All her psychic energy and momentum were channeled into one mighty blow that covered the field in a thick dust cloud.


    "Now, all out!"


    Cotton Spore was my Plan A. Flash was my Plan B. This was my Plan C. Wattson was blind so long as the dust cloud persisted. So was electrike. Artoria and I had our empathy to draw on.


    Inside the cloud, twelve silhouettes of our two pok¨¦mon danced.


    "Get out of there!" Wattson shouted, a sense of urgency entering his voice for the first time this battle.


    "Keep him there," I said. I could almost taste victory.


    Artoria teleported from one edge of the cloud to the other, striking then warping away and keeping electrike from leaving her impromptu battlefield even while her clones distracted him. It was death by a thousand cuts. A full-power Mana Edge would be counterproductive, knocking him out of the cloud, so she was reducing the strength of her own attacks while avoiding his own.


    "Enough. Flash!"


    I cursed inwardly. It was a strategy I''d planned with Jeanne, so why wouldn''t Wattson think of it?


    Bright light filled the gym. I heard Artoria yelp in surprise, giving away her location. She was promptly tackled out of the cloud and back onto my side of the field.


    I blinked the spots out of my eyes to see Artoria on her knees. To be fair, the electrike wasn''t faring much better. Even through his green fur, I could see that he was one big mass of bruises and he stepped gingerly as if it hurt to put weight on his forelimbs.


    Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    "Splendid use of strategy," Wattson complimented me. "It was a truly charged battle, but I think it''s gone on long enough."


    "Artoria, can you stand?"


    ''Y-Yes, my lord,'' she said, but her thoughts were staggered like I''d never heard her before. She began to stand on shaky legs. ''I am your knight, your sword and shield. Your dreams will be my own, your dearest wish my reason for being. This, I swore!''


    It started first with her spoon. It began to shine with the telltale blue of psychic aura, only to get brighter and brighter. The aura spread, covering her entire body so thickly that her crimson horns looked violet in the light. Flickers of white sparks danced from her hands.


    "End this, electrike. Howl into Spark!"


    A canine howl pierced the gym, stirring my caveman fight or flight instincts and making my hair stand on end. Lightning arced around his fur. He started with a walk, wincing in pain. His eyes sharpened and the walk turned into a sprint as he stoutly ignored his own injuries.


    A comet of yellow electricity streaked towards her.


    She met it with a charge of her own, a wordless war cry on her lips.


    "Electrike!"


    "Ralts!"


    Then, in the moment of impact, white overtook blue and the light of evolution shoved the electrike back. It was different from the white aura I saw that represented willpower. There was no way to explain it, but it sent what limited psychic senses I had into overdrive.


    The light dimmed, revealing my new kirlia. She stood on trembling legs, panting desperately as she held her sword towards her downed opponent. She was still filthy, caked in dirt and bruised all over her white blouse. Evolution didn''t magically fix every problem like it did in the anime; she was still very much on her last legs.


    I had enough. I''d gotten what I wanted, a challenging foe to battle and the chance for Artoria to evolve. My hand twitched towards her ball to concede the match. If the electrike could continue after that, we''d just come back in a week and stomp it flat.


    "Leader Wattson''s electrike is unable to battle. Challenger Aaron and kirlia are the victors!" the ref called, drawing me from my thoughts.


    She''d been so quiet that I honestly forgot we had one.


    Then the gravity of that declaration weighed in on me and I laughed. I was so focused on my new kirlia that I completely missed the electrike fall over in exhaustion.


    We''d done it. Jeanne, Artoria, and I had our first badge.


    The psychic shield went down and I ran out to embrace my partner. Even evolved, she was still a diminutive two feet. She''d grow taller in time. I scooped her up and twirled her around.


    "We did it," I said. "We won! You were amazing!"


    ''M-My lord! Please let me go,'' my adorable knight pouted, upset that she was still so easily huggable.


    I''d catch hell for it later, but I couldn''t help but think that her ridiculous spoon was finally the appropriate length to qualify as a standard longsword now.


    "Well done," Wattson said as he walked over, "and congratulations on her evolution."


    "Thank you, Leader Wattson," I said with a respectful bow.


    "Wahahaha, you''re as formal as Sharon. She told us to expect you."


    "Mom? You spoke with her?"


    "All the gym leaders did. That girl''s very proud of you, you know."


    "She has a funny way of showing it," I grumbled. Then, I thought of something, a nagging suspicion. "Did¡­ Did mom tell you to use a stronger pok¨¦mon?"


    "Yes, yes she did. Electrike here is one of the ones I reserve for the second badge," the jolly old man revealed. "Typically, first badge challenges don''t involve a pok¨¦mon who''s quite so fast. He also knows a lot more moves than I normally use."


    "Fucking hell. Why?"


    "Wahahaha! Why? Because she believes in you of course." The ref reappeared carrying two boxes. Wattson opened them and handed me the golden Dynamo badge and a TM disc. "Here. The badge is what you get for winning. The TM contains Shock Wave and I hand these out to truly exceptional trainers."


    "Thank you," I said, even if I felt a little bitter towards mom. Not for the first time, I wondered if I''d be better off without her particular brand of tough love.


    X


    Today had been a long day. The battle against Wattson hadn''t lasted more than half an hour, but it left all of us feeling drained. It was only noon when I returned to the pok¨¦mon center, but I wanted nothing more than to fall back into bed.


    Still, that could wait.


    After entrusting my pok¨¦mon to the nurses, I grabbed a quick shower, pinned the Dynamo Badge on the inside hem of my favorite jacket, and started packing. I''d be out the door tomorrow, headed to Verdanturf to hopefully snag that gardevoirite before Wanda could get her hands on it.


    Honestly, chances were slim. I was banking on Artoria being able to sense the psychic and fae energy signature given off by the mega stone, just as she''d done with the alakazite in Slateport. If she couldn''t, I''d just have to accept that it wasn''t there and wait for another opportunity.


    I came back down to the lobby and grabbed my pok¨¦mon, thanking the on-call nurse. I released my pok¨¦mon onto the pok¨¦mon center lobby.


    "Artoria, Jeanne, how do you feel?"


    "Mareep!" my excitable mareep bleated cheerfully, completely unbothered by her defeat. Most other pok¨¦mon would have either been down or felt the need to jump back into training to avenge their loss, not Jeanne. Her tail and horns literally shone with good cheer as arcs of electricity danced merrily in her wool.


    ''I am well, my liege. Better than well,'' my first pok¨¦mon said with a smile. The green bangs covering her eyes as a ralts had been shifted to one side, revealing a single, ruby eye that almost seemed too large for her face. I could see why so many people found the ralts line so cute; they had facial features similar to those of babies.


    Her inner voice was different too. As a ralts, her telepathy had been astonishingly clear, light and airy like the summer breeze. As a kirlia, her thoughts felt weightier. The voice was deeper too, more mature, but there was more to it than me associating her thoughts with sounds. The truth was, telepathy wasn''t as people assumed; it was more complicated than just "talking, but with thoughts."


    A single thought was more than just a series of sound waves or rationalizations. Thoughts contained a whole host of associated emotions, instincts, and memories that were jumbled together into a singular package. There was no way for an undisciplined or inexperienced mind to untangle the complex web of mental associations without help. It was why people who experienced telepathy for the first time often missed subtle nuances. Just as spoken words could convey a number of connotations based on tone, telepathic thoughts could be equally complex.


    As a kirlia, each of her thoughts felt more organized, more controlled, than they did as a ralts. I could feel her care, love, devotion, and passion with every word, but they were carefully curated now in a way that was no less genuine than before.


    Impossible to explain, but that difference was immense.


    "I can see that," I said, sending her a pulse of affection. Reaching down, I ruffled her hair and chuckled as she went cherry-red. It never ceased to amuse me that my kirlia could feel my emotions at all times and so enjoyed a type of intimacy most people would never experience, but immediately turned into a stuttering mess at the first sign of physical affection.


    "Good. We''ll have time to talk about the battle later. We''ll go over what we did right and what we could do better. But for now, I need to give mom a call."


    ''Lady Sharon?''


    "Mareep?"


    "Kir-Kirlia," Artoria explained to Jeanne.


    "Yes. It seems she told Wattson to make our battle harder than it needed to be."


    "Reep? Mareep?"


    ''Why?''


    I rolled my eyes. "Why else? Because she''s a social cripple who is incapable of showing love except by pushing people harder and harder."


    Artoria frowned. ''She is not that bad, my liege.''


    "Really? We''re talking about the same woman here, right? The one who signed me up for the Junior Astronauts Summer Camp and expected me to rank first? At the age of eight?"


    ''Well¡­''


    "Or how about the time she had me memorize great granddad''s journal word for word because it contained the basics of pok¨¦mon nutrition? At the age of seven?"


    ''She just wants you to be your best?''


    "Yes, that''s the problem, Artoria," I said, letting out a frustrated sigh as I led us back to our room. "I know she loves me, I can see emotions fine. I just have a problem with her complete inability to show affection."


    ''Be that as it may, my liege, you shouldn''t speak ill of your mother.''


    Reaching down, I scooped her up into my arms. "Oh, fine. You''re right."


    In my room, I flipped open my Pok¨¦Nav and dialed home. It was picked up in two rings and Tate''s cute face filled the screen.


    "Aaron! Liza! Come quick, it''s Aaron!" he shouted excitably.


    "Aaron? Hey, bro!" Her face squished into the screen, pushing her brother away. "Congratulations!"


    "You already heard about the gym battle?" I asked, surprised. The recording wouldn''t go live for a few hours at least to give the League porygons a chance to scrub it for glitches or classified details, not that a battle at my level would have any.


    "Kind of? Mom was teaching us divination today and we decided to check up on you."


    I had mixed feelings about that. On one hand, I lived in a world of psychics. My family were some of the more powerful ones around and privacy was ultimately an illusion. As Aaron Fulan, I''d come to terms with that long ago. But on the other hand, Aaron Kanda-Locke grew up in a society where privacy was heavily prized. That part of me wanted to be upset with my siblings and mom for allowing it.


    True, I had a similar connection with my kirlia, but it felt different with her. Constantly being able to feel her loyalty towards me went a long way to soothing ruffled feathers.


    I swallowed. Perhaps it was a matter of distance.


    "So you saw the battle?"


    "Uh-huh. Your ralts evolved!"


    "She did," I said agreeably and nudged Artoria in front of the camera. "Say hi, Artoria."


    "Artoria? Is that her name?"


    "Hello, Lord Tate, Lady Liza, I hope you are well," my little knight said, though it came out as "Kirlia-kir."


    "Mareep!" Jeanne cried, feeling left out. She bumped the Pok¨¦Nav out of my hand. Looking at the camera, she gave the lens a curious lick and shuddered in disgust. "Mareep¡­"


    "Woah, what? Was that your mareep?"


    "Jeanne, come back." I tucked the sheep under one arm and my pixie in the other and placed my camera on my knee. "Yeah. I actually caught her yesterday."


    "Wait, you went into a gym battle with a fresh capture?" Tate asked, scandalized.


    "Wow, I would never have been able to tell. She almost beat that voltorb," Liza added.


    "Yeah. Jeanne''s a quick study. She might be more suited for contests though. She really wants to be the ''most radiant ampharos in the world'' or something."


    "Ooh, a contest-trained ampharos would be really pretty," my little sis squealed. She was still in the phase where she was picking her favorite pok¨¦mon based on how cute they were. When I left, her favorite was togekiss. Who knew what it was now?


    Suddenly, the image lifted itself into the air. When it settled, I saw the stern face of my mother. "Hello, son."


    "Hi mom. I hear you rigged my match."


    "Hardly. I felt you deserved a worthy challenge."


    "Did you know I''d win?"


    "Of course. You''re my son."


    "You know, that''d almost be touching if I didn''t know for a fact you just looked ahead to see me with the Dynamo Badge."


    "Uncertainty is for lesser minds," she sniffed.


    "Was¡­ Was that a joke? You can joke?"


    "I''ll have you know I am not devoid of humor."


    I felt Artoria''s elbow in my side. "Yeah, fine, fine. Should I expect all my gym battles to be equally difficult?"


    "No, Quinn and I just felt that Artoria needed a little push."


    "To evolve."


    "Indeed. Your father sends his regards, young one," she said to Artoria. Quinn the gallade appeared by his mistress'' side in a flash of blue.


    "Gallade. Gal. Gall-ade."


    "Kir? Lia?"


    "Gallade."


    "Kirlia!"


    I had no idea what the two were saying to each other, but I took the flaring of purple and blue aura around my starter to mean they were enjoying themselves.


    "Where''s dad?"


    "Dad''s off on a training seminar," Tate chimed in. "He said he needs to update his zero-g certificate."


    "Huh, cool. Tell him I said hey."


    "Okay."


    "So," I said as casually as I could. I''d thought about this. In the end, I wasn''t sure if this was the right thing to do, but¡­ "I found an alakazite."


    "You what?" It was the first time I''d seen mom surprised in a while. She didn''t emote well at the best of times. Her surprised face was just two rapid blinks, but I savored it. Even that loss of control spoke volumes where she was concerned.


    Reaching into my bag, I held it out before the camera. "I have an alakazite."


    "So I see¡­"


    "No, ''As expected of my son,'' or ''As I had foreseen?''" I teased.


    "Don''t be ridiculous," she scoffed. "I have no expectations in your ability to track down rare items."


    "Oww."


    "And you know powerful relics are blindspots."


    "Yeah¡­ I''m going to have to brush up on precogs," I said honestly. "I forgot about most of it after you told me I didn''t have the Sight."


    "Typical. The future is ever-changing, Aaron. Looking into the future is like looking into a reflection in the mirror. In the end, we shape our reflections."


    "Cool, very mystical and all, but what does that have to do with relics being blindspots? I mean, it makes some sense. If you could divine the location of mega stones, we''d be sitting on a small mountain of them."


    "Quite. The mega stones and their key stone counterparts, as well as several other items, are universal constants. You will find it utterly impossible to break one. The weight of their existence interferes with our sight."


    I still didn''t understand but nodded along anyway. "Huh, neat. So¡­ you can''t find one? You mean¡­" I grinned slyly. "I have something you wouldn''t be able to get?"


    "Truly, Arceus favors the dim-witted."


    "Oww¡­" Still, I grinned. That was as good as begging with her. More importantly, it meant no one, literally no one knew the locations of mega stones. This was likely true of several relics such as the Lustrous and Adamant Orbs. I decided to make sorting my memories a priority. It wasn''t an art I had any natural talent in, but I''d push through with bullheaded effort.


    "What do you plan on doing with it?"


    I shrugged. "Who knows. How much do you think this will go for?"


    She frowned. "You want to¡­ sell¡­ an artifact of immense power?"


    "I''m joking. Want it?"


    "Excuse me?"


    "Do you want to alakazite."


    "Yes¡­ What will it cost me?"


    "A favor," I said. "I''m going to cash in a favor sometime in the future and it''ll be one that requires you to leverage your position as a gym leader."


    "Done."


    This time, it was my turn to be surprised. "Just like that?"


    "A gym leader may reward a sponsored trainer for meritorious deeds. I will not show favoritism because you are my son, but locating a mega stone would qualify."


    "Huh."


    "Indeed. I recommend you think carefully about this favor. There are many who would go to great lengths to have me ''owe them one.'' Do not squander it."


    "I won''t," I said firmly. "So¡­ What now?"


    "Now I will send Quinn to you to pick it up."


    "Sure, when can I expe-"


    I was cut off by the bright light of Quinn''s Teleport. Artoria''s father was tall for a gallade at six feet. His emerald and white armor gleamed in the light. The angular crystal on his chest pulsed with power, bathing the room with psychic energy.


    "Hey, Quinn," I greeted, tossing him the alakazite. "Tell Alfonse to have some fun and pull that third spoon out of his ass."


    ''As crass as ever, young lord,'' he spoke in my mind, his voice a rich, deep baritone.


    "Right, you''re why Artoria insists on calling me ''lord.''"


    ''There is nothing wrong with proper etiquette.''


    "Right, right," I waved him off. The gallade was as big a chuuni as his daughter. Though to be fair, he was as close to a true knight as anyone could get.


    ''Father.''


    ''Daughter. You have advanced quickly.''


    ''I have.''


    ''I look forward to seeing the knight you will become.'' With that rejoinder, he was gone.


    "I think that means he''s proud of you."


    ''Father acknowledged me,'' Artoria said shakily.


    "He''s always acknowledged you."


    ''As a daughter. This is the first time he ever called me a knight.''


    I pulled my pok¨¦mon into a hug. "Well it''s about time. We''re going to save Mossdeep for last. Then, for our eighth badge, we''re going to shove a spoon so far up his ass he''ll be tasting breakfast for dinner."


    ''You are far too crass,'' she admonished, but I could see the corners of her mouth twitch upward.


    "Mareep."


    ''See? Jeanne agrees with me.''


    "Right, right. My own pok¨¦mon are ganging up on me."


    We hung up shortly after. The three of us spent the rest of the day going over the battle and watching reruns of pok¨¦mon contests so Jeanne could get an idea of what they were like.


    Author''s Note


    Hopefully, that gym battle was suitably epic. It''s a little hard to give the battle the gravitas it''s due.


    Closing an arc is always a little challenging. I need to conclude at a decent point and wrap up some plot threads while leaving a few hanging for me to pick up on later. I think Verdanturf and a favor owed by Sharon Fulan are good enough for me to pick it up later.


    Now, any guesses as to what this favor might be?


    This concludes Arc 1 of When is a Spoon a Sword? I will be switching back to Legendary Tinker, my Worm/Runeterra cross.


    Thank you for reading. To reach a wider audience, and because I enjoy a more forum-like setup to facilitate discussion, I like to crosspost to a wide variety of websites. You can find them all on my Link Tree: https://linktr.ee/fabled.webs.</a>

 2.1 Salad

    Salad 2.1


    Aaron Fulan


    Route 117, Hoenn Region


    I stood at the edge of Mauville and Route 117, my two pok¨¦mon by my side. Mauville had been good to us, but it was time to move on. I smiled knowingly. Most trainers following the gym circuit ignored Verdanturf as a town with nothing worthy of note, but I knew better. By going there, I could lay claim to a gardevoirite, the single most precious thing Artoria could ever possess, the key to letting her achieve her dreams.


    But first, the route.


    It was something I''d noticed about Hoenn and, I suspected, the entire pok¨¦mon world. Every single route was distinct form the city. There was a stark divide between the municipality of Mauville and Route 117, as if someone took a permanent marker, drew a circle around the city, and said, "Urban influence ends here."


    That wasn''t to say the route was just woodland of course. In fact, it was mostly low meadows filled with some of the best weather and soil available in the region. Ranches, farms, orchards, and more dotted the route and a clear path of hardpacked dirt made getting lost all but impossible. It just lacked the trappings of any road coming out of a city that I''d come to expect on Earth. No separate road for cars, no street signs, no lights, no asphalt, and certainly no gas station attached to a greasy bed and breakfast. Just a blend of nature and human cohabitation that took my breath away.


    It was beautiful. Hoenn was a largely tropical region so the planting and growing season for berries was abnormally long. Even though this was mid-February, I could smell the aromas of flowers on the breeze, the distinct Sweet Scent of roselia helping out with the orchards, and the pungent sting of recently upturned soil.


    "Ready to go?"


    Beside me, Jeanne was as peppy as ever, her emotions forming a kaleidoscope vibrant colors. Joy. Peace. Excitement. I could imagine her being a shonen protagonist in another life, always upbeat, always optimistic, always ready to laugh along. I''d never met anyone half as naturally happy before and it was refreshing.


    "Ma-mareeeeep!" she bleated, eager to see the world. I''d promised her that she could participate in the Verdanturf contest coming up in ten days, plenty of time to get there and work on a routine. It was something for her to look forward to while Artoria and I searched for the gardevoirite.


    ''Always, my lord,'' Artoria''s voice rang clearly in my mind. With it came a wave of emotions and associations. Schemas, I thought they were called in psychology. Love. Loyalty. Resolve. There was no need to try to interpret her emotions by looking at the corona surrounding her because her emotions were as much my own.


    My partner sat atop the mareep, her trademark silver spoon slung over her back like a great claymore. I looked at my two pok¨¦mon and just had to snap off a picture with my Pok¨¦Nav. I made a new chatroom and posted the picture so the twins and Lisia could see it.


    [Welcome to the Pok¨¦Net BBS. The chatroom "Family and Friends" has been created by Sir_Aaron.]


    [Mossdeep_Moon has been invited.]


    [Mossdeep_Sun has been invited.]


    [XO-CloudDancer-OX has been invited.]


    Sir_Aaron: Dame Artoria and her noble steed Jeanne off on their new [adventure].


    She looked at me curiously. ''What is it?''


    ''I thought you hated being held.'' I thought at her. Ever since her evolution, our bond had deepened. No longer did I have to voice my thoughts aloud for her to hear me. It was an exhilarating experience, an intimacy I''d come to see as an extension of myself. It was remarkable how naturally the habit of maintaining a private channel came to me.


    ''I am astride my noble steed,'' she sniffed. ''B-Besides, I do not dislike being held in your arms, merely, it is improper for a knight to be coddled by her lord.''


    ''Of course, of course. What was I thinking?''


    ''That I look noble and splendid and how lucky you are to have a magnificent knight such as myself in your service.''


    I suppressed a laugh, just in time to feel my Pok¨¦Nav vibrate. I saw the twins'' response.


    Mossdeep_Sun: That''s pretty cute, not gonna lie. Liza''s squealing and it''s hurting my ears.


    Mossdeep_Moon: ASDFGHJKEWREWGTHYU Send. More. Pictures. Now.


    XO-CloudDancer-OX: Woah, are these your siblings? Hi, everyone, I''m a friend your big bro met. And wow your kirlia is adorable. Why sun and moon? Which one''s which?


    Mossdeep_Moon: I''m Liza, the older, cool one.


    Mossdeep_Sun: Psh, she wishes. I''m Tate, the actual cool one.


    Sir_Aaron: They''re both brats but I love them anyway. Btw, keep an eye on Lisia, you two. I promised her she can have one of you if she wins the grand festival.


    Mossdeep_Moon: What? You''re just giving us away? What kind of big brother are you?


    Mossdeep_Sun: Yeah! That''s cruel, big bro!


    Sir_Aaron: Ah, but then you wouldn''t bicker so much.


    Mossdeep_Moon: Ooh, now that you mention it¡­ Sorry, Tate, guess you''re leaving.


    Mossdeep_Sun: Me? Why me? Maybe Lisia wants a little sister instead, huh?


    I chuckled as they devolved into inane bickering and sent Artoria their reactions through our bond. I wasn''t nearly as good at this as she was so the psychic image was a bit hazy, but for a moment, Artoria saw what I saw. Her face went cherry-red.


    ''M-My lord! We are not adorable! Jeanne and I are gallant!''


    ''You can''t be both?''


    ''Knights are not adorable,'' she sulked. She reached forward and tugged on Jeanne''s wool, letting out a command. "Kir, kirlia!"


    My mareep just let out another happy bleat and started to trot forward, off to conquer Route 117.


    We set off, with the three of us doing as much training as we could. There were no pok¨¦mon I wanted that I was likely to find here, so I didn''t feel the need to stop for much. The next week or so on the road would be a week of conditioning.


    Artoria''s evolution into a kirlia was welcome, not least for the extra opportunities to tease her, but it meant she''d need to get used to her newfound growth. After indulging in my little knight''s dreams of a mounted joust for about fifteen minutes, I had her step off her mount and follow along on foot.


    "Artoria, I want you to execute every shikake waza as we go in sequence. Step into each strike as you perform renzoku-waza: kote, do, men, then end with tsuki. The goal is to get you used to your new body and make your transitions seamless."


    ''Yes, my lord!''


    "Jeanne, you''re going to charge as much electricity as you can and store it in your horns while we move. The goal is to keep the charge as long as you can, as bright as you can. Don''t expend, just hold."


    "Mareep?"


    I looked at Artoria and waited for her to translate. ''She asked why she would not practice any moves.''


    I nodded in thanks. I''d done a bit of reading on mareep. The Summers library didn''t have any information on the species, but there was plenty of information available online for the general public, them being very common pok¨¦mon in Johto. "That''s because the most important thing for a young electric type is to learn to store a charge. This is especially true of mareep. Most of your electricity is generated through your wool, so it''s not something you store inside your body. That''s why a mareep''s electric attacks tend to be a little slower in charge time than say, a pikachu''s. But it''s not like a mareep can''t store electricity internally; it''s just not something you do naturally until you evolve and lose a lot of wool. I want you to get a head start on that. Make sense?"


    "Ma¡­ ree¡­?" She cocked her head to the side as if in deep thought.


    It was¡­ perhaps not my best idea trying to explain biology to a mareep. Jeanne wasn''t dumb, but she definitely was more about the show than the study.


    "It''ll make you a stronger ampharos," I said simply.


    "Reep!"


    ''That was not a difficult explanation. Is Jeanne slow?''


    "Hush, Artoria. Everyone learns at a different pace. She''s a much more tactile learner."


    ''As you say, my lord.''


    "Now both of you, start!" I shouted as I began to jog along the dirt path.


    Training went both ways as far as I was concerned. I was a modern-day swordmaster, a man who worked with his body all his life. This, the body of Aaron Fulan, fell short of my expectations on every level and I refused to tolerate it a second longer than I had to.


    Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    Thus, conditioning. More than anything else, stamina was what made an athlete so I started off on a slow, methodical jog. It was slow enough that even my two pok¨¦mon, barely two feet tall, could match my strides. No matter. I''d be feeling it soon enough. Hefting my bag, I mentally readied myself for a slog.


    X


    The three of us breathed heavily as we sat by the side of the road on one of several rest stops we''d passed today. It boasted a wooden table and chairs as well as a small signpost, roofed as to protect the paper contents from light rain. Next to it was an oran berry bush that hadn''t matured quite yet as well as a basket of water bottles and individually wrapped mini-muffins. A dirt path led away from the rest stop, presumably to the ones who set up this stop.


    "Refreshments free. Please take one. Courtesy of the Loverose Orchard," the signboard said. It also contained a list of jobs that a passing trainer might be interested in taking in exchange for some spare change or a roof to sleep under.


    It wasn''t a bad way to attract trainers, I figured, especially not for a small orchard like this one. Perhaps it wasn''t reliable, but to handle some non-urgent work like painting a shed? Not bad at all. Many traveling trainers were effectively gig workers; they couldn''t all be lucky enough to have a sponsor like me.


    I looked over the job postings: Guard work to chase away a persistent gang of nincada from eating the tree sap, chopping wood, spreading more fertilizer¡­ basic stuff.


    ''Will we be taking a job, my lord?'' Artoria asked. She was breathing heaviest of all of us, the adorable training-nut.


    ''No, no we won''t be. We have plenty of funds at the moment.''


    It was true. Despite what mom said about not showing favoritism, I found another three grand in my bankbook the next morning. She clearly thought that whatever favor I''d ask for in exchange for the alakazite wouldn''t be enough on its own and decided to tide me over until then by padding my wallet.


    Of course, I knew she''d deny it to her dying breath if confronted. I''d just miscounted, that''s all.


    The three of us lazed around and recovered our stamina while snacking on the muffins left out for passerby. The sun warmed the picnic table and I found my eyes drooping just a bit. A few minutes of shut-eye before returning to the road couldn''t hurt¡­


    "Hey, you!" I heard a voice call. "Did you eat all the food here?"


    I turned to look her way. Our guest was a girl about my age, perhaps a bit older. She was taller than me, with black hair and gray eyes. She wore a set of overalls and a red bandana to keep her bangs from her eyes. Her overalls were clearly well-used, with dirt and grass stains all along her lower legs.


    I looked towards the basket she was pointing at. It was now empty of those delectable mini-muffins. I glanced down at the most likely culprits. Artoria and Jeanne looked back at me with guilty smiles, their lips smudged with crumbs.


    "Ah¡­ sorry, guess my pok¨¦mon were a bit hungrier from training than I thought."


    ''Hunger is the enemy,'' Artoria responded, nodding as if she''d spoken the truth of the universe. Sometimes, I regretted enthralling her with tales of her British counterpart¡­ and was grateful that no one else could understand my utterly unrepentant kirlia beyond the usual vocalizations.


    "Reep," came Jeanne''s concurrent reply.


    "Man, I was hoping I could grab a bite before going back to work. The Loveroses always have good stuff."


    I dug around in my backpack and pulled out some trail mix. "It''s not muffins, but they''re pretty good."


    "Sure, thanks. Lydia, by the way. Breeder-in-training."


    "Aaron," I said, shaking her hand as she took a seat by me. "Traveling trainer."


    "Yeah, I can tell. A kirlia and mareep aren''t exactly from these parts. Got any badges?"


    "Just Dynamo."


    "Huh. And you''re not headed north to Lavaridge?"


    "I''ve got business in Verdanturf. Jeanne, my mareep, wants to try out the contest scene, see?"


    "Ooh, so you want to be the next Wallace? You know most people only succeed with one or the other, right? If they succeed at all?"


    I shrugged. "If that''s what my pok¨¦mon want. As far as I''m concerned, I''ll consider my journey a success if my pok¨¦mon achieve all that they set out to do. In the end, the badges and ribbons are secondary to that."


    "That''s a good way to look at things."


    "Thanks. How about you? Why a breeder?"


    "Family ranch," she said with a wry smile. "It''s not much, but it''s home. I guess I just never had the wanderlust other people have. When mom asked me if I wanted to go on a journey, I turned her down."


    "That''s alright. As romanticized as a journey is, it''s not the be all end all. Sounds like you''re getting plenty of experience with pok¨¦mon anyway right where you are."


    "Heh, anyone ever tell you that you talk like an old man? Who says ''romanticized'' in normal conversation?"


    "A man of higher culture and class," I sniffed. "You might even say a higher breeding."


    "Ha, oh really? Breeding jokes for the breeder? Funny."


    The two of us sat around comfortably. We chatted about our lives. I told her about my pok¨¦mon''s strange dreams and antics and Lydia told me about the chores of a life on the farm. It sounded idyllic, like a countryside paradise I read about in my old life. Tolkien''s hobbits, but with more emphasis on magic creatures.


    "So¡­ How does it all work?" I asked.


    She stared at me incredulously then adopted a sly smirk. "What? Well, when a mother and father get really horny¡­"


    "I think I''m good on the sex, thanks," I said, voice dry as a sandshrew''s asscrack. "I meant the business. What pok¨¦mon do you breed? And why? Like, who buys them all?"


    "You''re no fun. Well¡­ Our ranch is one of the smaller ones, but we''re subsidized by the League. So I guess we breed whatever the League tells us to. Like, right now, we have a bunch of shroomish and goldeen. None of them are fighters if that''s what you''re wondering. Shroomish can be really good for the environment and are naturally excellent at assisting in decomposition, making soils more fertile and all that. Goldeen are scavengers too so they do basically the same thing but in water."


    "So the League commissions your work, buys the batch each generation, and¡­ releases them into the wild?"


    "Or farms, fisheries, and the like. We occasionally even breed zigzagoon and such just so trainer schools all over the region have a class set for teaching purposes."


    "That''s kind of cool. So I guess the zigzagoon I saw in Mossdeep could have come from your ranch."


    "Yup," she stood, dusting herself off. "Thanks for the snack. I''m going to go head back before mom chews my ear off again for slacking. Later!"


    "Yeah, nice meeting you, Lydia," I called back. I looked down at my pok¨¦mon. "Shall we go? I think we''ve rested enough."


    X


    We stopped twice more by the time lunch came around. All of us were breathing heavily, though I heard not a word of complaint from even Jeanne. Artoria had gotten accustomed to her longer legs and her strikes looked crisper than ever. She''d even taken to channeling Mana Edge along her spoon, leaving trails of blue-violet light along the arcs of her swings.


    This stop was more substantial than the Loveroses'' with several fire pits and grills for trainers to prep their own food. It was also occupied by half a dozen people milling around. I saw several pok¨¦mon sent out to play and mingle, most intimidating of all being a fearow with a wicked-sharp beak.


    I didn''t like the way that bird was looking at Jeanne, so I kept her close.


    Lunch was pok¨¦chow for them and a sandwich for me. Anything more complicated could wait ''til I''d settled in for the evening. I held up the electric and psychic type-specific pok¨¦chow and wondered what the difference was. Judging by the ingredient list, the nutritional value seemed similar, though a handful of spices and dried berries used were different.


    ''The difference is mostly in flavoring, my lord,'' Artoria explained as she took the brown kibble-like pebble in her mouth. ''Jeanne''s food tastes like cardboard to me.''


    ''Huh. Guess it helps to have a telepath I can just ask. How so?''


    ''Her food is a little bit sour, as if acidic It also has a pulpy consistency that I find unpleasant.''


    ''I thought you liked sweet-sour things.''


    ''That is that and this is this.''


    I ruffled her green hair to her annoyance. "Fine, fine. Does Jeanne like your food?"


    "Mareep," the sheep in question bleated with a methodical shake of her head.


    ''No, she says it leaves a chalky aftertaste in her mouth. I have no idea what she is referring to.''


    "Weird."


    Lunch passed leisurely to allow us to recover from our morning workout. I took the chance to speak with a few other trainers, one a triathlete like Wanda and another a local day care worker who dropped by looking for commissions. Seeing how a lot of it was done online these days and most trainers passing through wouldn''t be very strong, I didn''t think he was looking very hard, probably just using it as an excuse to chill out.


    After a while, we began our trip anew. This time, we took it slow. It was an elevation of the training Wanda showed me concerning doduo. Artoria had quickly learned to respond to my emotions and so I decided that the best way to progress would be to share senses with one another.


    I gamely ignored all the laughing and whispering and pulled the paper bag down over my head. "Ready, Artoria?"


    ''They are mocking you, my lord.'' I could practically hear her teeth clench, my proud, proud kirlia. At least she wasn''t challenging them all to honor duels anymore¡­


    ''They are, and I don''t care. Now are you ready?''


    ''Surely there is a better way to train?''


    ''Not while on the move there isn''t.''


    ''Very well, my lord. I am ready.''


    Then I felt my mind lurch for lack of a better word. There was a pull on her end and a push on mine and I was suddenly two feet tall and brandishing a spoon like a longsword.


    Looking at the world from her point of view was¡­ surprisingly normal. I wasn''t sure what I was expecting now that we were doing it voluntarily and outside of battle, but I just felt like an extremely short person.


    ''I''m not short,'' I heard her grumble in my mind. ''Humans are just unnecessarily tall.''


    ''Whatever you say, my adorkable knight.''


    Even this telepathy felt different, as though we''d finally entered the same room to speak rather than shout at each other from across the hall. Normally, there was her usual vocalization of "Kirlia-kir" or somesuch, but this kind of mental transmission came with no physical accompaniments. There was something intimate about the clarity of this connection that I found difficult to describe.


    ''Adorkable is not a word.''


    ''Words exist to convey meanings. You know precisely what I mean, especially with telepathy. Ergo it is now a word,'' I teased. I couldn''t see her blushing up a storm with the paper bag over my head, but I could feel the fire in her cheeks.


    ''Unfair¡­''


    I decided I''d had enough of teasing Artoria and began walking. This was the whole point of our exercise. I would spend some of our trip in her head before trading off so she could spend some time in mine. By sharing headspace and senses, I hoped to accustom us both to this intimacy so we could coordinate better in battle.


    Shouting Kantoan kendo techniques was good, great even, but when the two of us had the option to communicate at the speed of thought? No contest.


    If we could swap to using each other''s senses like this, it would also mean that Artoria couldn''t be blinded or deafened because she could just hop into my head for a bit. We''d done it before in Slateport against that poochyena, but I wanted this transition to be seamless, for her to be as good at manipulating her body even while using my senses to perceive the world.


    There was one last reason for this: Psychic power stacked. Stacked like Legos. I knew this for a proven fact. I saw it with Liza and Tate, and even the two doduo heads, for what little psychic power they held. I wanted Artoria and I to artificially create the bond my twin siblings had with each other. If I succeeded, I would be able to draw on her power to supplement my own lacking reserves and she could draw on my experience with the sword.


    Two bodies, but a single, unified mind.


    It was theoretical. I couldn''t find a single book in the Summers family library that talked about artificially creating a twin bond, but if it worked¡­


    Yes, for that, I''d happily put up with being the route''s laughingstock.


    The moment I finished that thought, I misjudged the location of a pebble from my body''s foot while looking through Artoria''s eyes and landed on my face.


    Author''s Note


    Renzoku-waza just means "in sequence" or "continuous strikes." In this case, it''s like a boxer who shadow-boxes while on a jog.


    Breeder Lydia is one of the characters you can find on the route. Thought it''d be fitting to have her cameo here since I used to beat her up every ten minutes in Pok¨¦mon Emerald for exp.


    Decided to italicize mental speech from now on to distinguish between that and spoken words. Poor formatting on my part.


    Thank you for reading. To reach a wider audience, and because I enjoy a more forum-like setup to facilitate discussion, I like to crosspost to a wide variety of websites. You can find them all on my Link Tree: https://linktr.ee/fabled.webs.</a>

 2.2 Salad

    Salad 2.2


    Aaron Fulan


    Route 117, Hoenn Region


    "Umm¡­ Why is there a bag over your kirlia''s head?" a curious farm boy asked. He wore a wide-brim straw hat to protect himself from the sun and a pair of overalls with one strap broken. He had a dopey smile on his face that reminded me of a slowpoke.


    ''That is unkind, my liege,'' I heard Artoria admonish in my mind.


    ''Yeah, you''re right. I guess after days of this, I''m getting tired of people being overly curious.''


    It was something I noticed immediately about the pok¨¦mon world that differed from my own. Back in Arlington, there was no way in hell a stranger would just come up to chat like this, especially not if I looked as crazy as I did now. No one wanted extra trouble for themselves and someone who walked around with a bag over his head would have been given a wide berth, even by the people trying to sell something.


    ''This¡­ Arlington¡­ It does not sound like a friendly place.''


    ''It was peaceful enough, but compared to here? No, no it was not. People weren''t mean, just¡­ transactional? Yeah, that''s a good word for it. If you didn''t have something they wanted, either in the form of professional connections or social clout, you weren''t worth their time.''


    ''Your world sounds unpleasant. How can one live a fulfilling life that way? It sounds like a world where chivalry and ethics take a backseat to selfishness.''


    ''I suppose from your point of view, it does. And in a way, you''re not wrong. But that isn''t to say there weren''t good people there either. It was just a little more pragmatic than this one. I didn''t know any better though, so this world just seems even better in comparison now,'' I said gently.


    And that had been a doozy of a chat. A day into our trek through Route 117, I suggested that Artoria should dive even deeper into my mind, picking up my sword techniques. She did, and by extension came into contact with the full length of my history. I told Jeanne and Artoria about everything that night, staying up until the wee hours of the morning to cover it all. The games. Anime. Manga. Magma. Aqua. The Legends. All that I knew. All that could happen, in all their paradoxical, contradictory detail.


    Everything.


    In the end, my pok¨¦mons'' chuuni personalities helped me out. To Artoria, my wealth of knowledge and experience made me a more worthy lord, especially since said knowledge and experience granted us a massive lead on the location of a gardevoirite. Jeanne? She didn''t care. To be clear, she understood, she wasn''t dumb despite her simplistic worldview. She just decided that an ampharos-to-be who was as splendid and radiant as her deserved an equally splendid and radiant trainer.


    Chuuni, both of them, and I loved them both to bits.


    I felt Artoria''s spoon jab painfully into my shin. ''I still do not understand what that word means precisely, but I know when I am being insulted.''


    ''It''s cute and I love you more for being the chuunis you are,'' I told her, sending a flood of adoring emotions through the bond. I felt her face flush as her mind dealt with the psychic equivalent of hugs and headpats.


    I didn''t watch her flush. I felt her flush and devolve into a stammering wreck of embarrassment as her higher brain functions went on a coffee break. Her emotions swapped between being happy, embarrassed, embarrassed that she was embarrassed, indignant anger at my teasing, back to being happy at the intimacy of our connection, then finally settled on petulant sulking when she realized I was still mentally rolling on the floor laughing.


    "Umm¡­ hello?"


    I was drawn back to the real world by the farm boy''s question. He looked a little unnerved now and I realized that while Artoria and I were having our exchange, my face hadn''t changed at all. I had, for all intents and purposes, stared the boy down without blinking once.


    "Huh, no wonder people think psychics are weird," I muttered.


    "Huh?"


    "Sorry, kid. I was having a mental chat with my kirlia."


    "I''m not a kid!"


    "Sorry, just¡­ we''re training, alright?"


    "Whatever, weirdo," he grumbled as he stalked off. Wasn''t the first one. Wouldn''t be the last.


    We''d been switching off sensory deprivation between us for days now and we''d more or less gotten used to controlling our bodies while in the other''s headspace. We were even good enough to practice some katas, her with her spoon and me with bokken I''d picked up in a sporting goods store. Kendo wasn''t very popular outside of Kanto but finding goods to meet niche hobbies was the main perk of a metropolis like Mauville.


    X


    If simply walking from place to place doubled as training for Artoria, it was only fair that I used our rest stops and lunch breaks to plan a training regimen for Jeanne. The biggest immediate challenge was coming up with a contest routine, one simple enough that even a young mareep can perform it while still being stimulating enough to pass the appeals round.


    Truthfully, I didn''t expect to win the first contest. Contests were very different from battles; simply being the strongest wasn''t enough, not that I was guaranteed of that either. No, there was a certain showmanship and pageantry that was expected of these routines and I wasn''t sure I had the knack for it. The best I could do was to incorporate every one of Jeanne''s moves in a bombastic display of sound and color, playing off her natural flamboyance and hoping for the best. We''d get around to refining things after learning what worked and what didn''t.


    "Okay, ready, Jeanne?"


    "Mareep!"


    Artoria and I stood a safe distance from the energetic electric type. We''d both taken a few unpleasant jolts on accident from being too close.


    "Alright then. Electric Terrain!"


    "Maa-REEP!" she cried out, releasing the electricity she''d been storing all day in her wool, tail, and horns.


    A bubble of electricity flared out from her, chagrining the ground beneath her and¡­ little else. Her terrain extended a full six feet in all directions, but that was a pittance compared to the size of a full battlefield or contest stage. I doubted she''d be able to increase her range until she evolved. Disappointing, but expected.


    ''Perhaps you should not expect her to match the power of a Legend, my lord.''


    ''I won''t,'' I promised. Artoria was right of course. In the anime, Tapu Koko had covered an entire temple in rainbow light. The terrain was so perfect that there was almost no distinction between the floor and the sky, just a dimension of rainbow color. As I''d come to learn in this world, the lack of random static discharge was proof of the Melemele Guardian''s masterful control. It proved that the Mr. Thundercock could manipulate the charge in the earth even after using the move, and even against the physical laws demanding energy be discharged. ''Unreasonable expectations will only make her burn herself out. Besides, just being able to use the move at all is impressive for her age.''


    We''d just have to work with what we had.


    "Okay, now Cotton Spore!"


    With an enthusiastic cry, she fired off the woolen balls in every direction. The balls were themselves covered in a residual charge from the electric sheep. A dizzying array of ground-to-air lightning launched from the Electric Terrain, lighting up the balls and keeping them in the air longer than gravity would like.


    Not long, but long enough to send a cascade of light and shadow over the rest stop.


    Jeanne was no master, not yet. She had no control over the way the terrain acted on the woolen balls.


    So, I decided instead to make it a feature of our act. Wool, contrary to popular belief, wasn''t flammable. It was airy, but the proteins and fibers that made it up just didn''t burn. A high enough heat could manage to melt it, but quick bursts of electricity wouldn''t cut it, certainly not a mareep''s wool that was designed to store electrical charge.


    The rain of glittering wool balls settled on the ground, erupting in a shower of sparks as the two moves met. Jeanne was on her hind legs, forelimbs spread wide in the same Y-pose she was so fond of.


    "MAREEP!" she bleated a cheerful yell before trying to bow. Try. She instead ended up rolling before coming to a stop on her haunches. She looked back at me and raised her forelimbs again while sitting as if to tell me she''d done it on purpose.


    This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    "Excellent," I told her proudly. A bow would have been good, but this was adorable in its own way. I gestured to some of the wool balls. "Some of those didn''t spark because they landed outside the terrain."


    "Maa¡­"


    "That''s okay, Jeanne. You can''t make your terrain any bigger, not until you evolve. Instead, we''re going to focus on getting better control over your spores until you can make them land where you want them to. Sound good?"


    "Mareep!"


    "Great, now Cotton Spore, straight up."


    It was slow going. It wasn''t that Jeanne was unskilled, far from it, merely that she was enthusiastic. To a fault. She put a hundred percent of herself into everything she did, which unfortunately meant she wasn''t a big proponent of control or moderation. It didn''t help that Cotton Spore wasn''t typically a move that was aimed, merely pointed in a general direction to encumber opponents.


    Even so, repetition eventually got us to the point where she was mostly landing her spores in the terrain. I didn''t know if it was because continuously practicing the same move dimmed her enthusiasm or because there was a limit to how much even a mareep could stress her hair follicles, but I was satisfied with the results.


    The two of us sat around for a bit, her in my lap despite the Hoenn heat, and watched Artoria go through her forms. I would occasionally chuck a rock at her and watch as she pivoted cleanly to knock the stone out of the air. It was more impressive since she was looking from my eyes, not hers.


    "You have some strange pok¨¦mon," I heard behind me. Turning, I was met with a green-haired boy about my age. On his shoulder was a budew, the pre-evolution of the roselia commonly found around these parts. He had a confident smirk on his face, though not necessarily a malicious one.


    "I do," I said with an easy smile. I took the opportunity to snap a pebble towards my kirlia then immediately look away.


    I was rewarded with a yelp of pain. "Kir!"


    ''Oww¡­ That was unnecessary,'' I heard her grumble.


    ''That''ll be the next step. Prediction even if my attention wanders elsewhere.''


    ''You could have warned me.''


    ''But then it wouldn''t be a surprise. The ralts line begins to develop precognitive capabilities following their first evolution. It''s about time for you to start training that too. Even if it''s just for a second or two, being able to see the future mid-combat is going to be critical to your fighting style going forward.'' I sent her brief memory flashes of swordsmen from my past life whose skills seemed downright precognitive. ''I want you to see the future like Charlotte Katakuri and react like Sasaki Kojirou.''


    ''Yes, my liege. I understand. In that case, please pelt me with even more stones!'' she said, pumped to the gills now. The best way to motivate a chuuni? Anime. ''My liege is thinking unkind things about me¡­''


    ''I''m not. There''s nothing wrong with being a shameless training-nut.''


    ''Haauuu¡­''


    "Hello? You there, weirdo?"


    I turned my attention back to him to find him snapping his fingers in front of my face. "Yes. Just having a chat with my kirlia. Can I help you?"


    "You''re going to compete in Verdanturf, aren''t you?"


    "Most people introduce themselves before demanding answers from strangers."


    "As if. I don''t need to greet every mediocre wannabe I meet," he scoffed, nose turned up.


    I did my best to channel my mother. An arched eyebrow and an unimpressed stare filled with the utter apathy of a psychic, sure to quell even the most arrogant blowhard. I wasn''t quite there, but it was enough to get him to take a step back. "Then why are you here?"


    ''I do not like this person,'' Artoria grumbled. She''d pulled the blindfold from her face and was glaring at him with undisguised contempt. ''He is rude and quick to give offense.''


    ''And what do his emotions say?''


    ''He is nervous. As he should be after insulting you.''


    I looked at his aura. She could read his emotions far more clearly than I could, I was only human while she was a kirlia, but that didn''t mean we were interpreting them the same way. ''There''s that, but you should also see what isn''t there. Confidence. Malice.''


    ''Then why is he so rude?''


    ''Social awkwardness. Insecurity. He''s young and young people do dumb things to hide their perceived failings. If I had to guess, he came here because someone told him that a good rival would push him further on his journey. Maybe he is here to scout a potential opponent. Or maybe he was lonely and looking for a way to strike up conversation. Remember, for most new trainers, this is the first time they''ve been made to travel alone.''


    ''Would it not be better if humans were more straightforward with one another?'' she asked, confused. ''A simple "I want to be friends," sounds much better than whatever mess this is. If humans were more honest, you would not need to guess at his intentions.''


    ''True, but not everyone can see emotions like we can. Be patient with them.''


    It was something I''d known about Artoria, but rarely witnessed. Back in Mossdeep, everyone in the gym, barring dad, was a psychic. And even with dad, he was more than used to our unique quirks that he could seem almost precognitive in addressing our wants. Empathy was as natural as breathing so hiding our intentions and feelings was a fool''s errand. She was getting better, but human interaction was for her an incomplete communication method. The masquerade inherent to human society was something that still felt alien to her.


    "Hello? You there? You just space out like this normally?" the boy interrupted. Whatever he said in response to my original question, I completely missed his response.


    "Yes, actually. You''ll find powerful psychics often don''t bother communicating verbally. Telepathy is much faster than speech and it comes naturally to us."


    "Whatever."


    "You still haven''t told me your name."


    "I did! It''s Drew!"


    That rang a bell, though I wasn''t certain why. "Ah, sorry, must have missed it. Artoria and I were having a chat," I said apologetically.


    ''With the budew, and him aiming for the contest, I suspect he is the rival of this "May Maple" character you remember, my lord,'' Artoria reminded me. That was another big benefit to sharing everything with her. I wasn''t a particularly talented psychic, but with Artoria''s help, I was working to organize a "mind palace" of sorts. Well, not quite a palace. Or a house. More of a filing cabinet than anything. She was effectively helping me sort my memories, build a library of relevant knowledge and whatnot from my past life.


    I sent her a pulse of gratitude. "So, did you want something?"


    "You! I just told you that your kirlia isn''t going to win, especially not with her trainer spacing out like a slowpoke!"


    "Well of course not. It''d be really weird if she managed to win a contest she''s not competing in."


    "What? Then why''s she swinging a spoon around?"


    "Because she''s training."


    "That doesn''t explain anything."


    I smirked at him and watched a drop of red spread through his emotional aura like food coloring in a glass of water. Just because I had a good idea of why he behaved the way he did didn''t mean I had to enable him. An insecure, rude brat was still a rude brat. "No? I think it explains everything."


    "Ugh, whatever, you spacey weirdo. I don''t care if you''re not competing," he grumbled, trudging off.


    ''But you are competing, my lord.''


    ''I am. I never said otherwise. I said you are not competing. If that''s the conclusion he draws, then that''s fine by me.''


    ''I see¡­ Humans are strange.''


    ''We are.''


    I patted her gently and packed up before hitting the road again.


    X


    I watched and waited wordlessly as my fluffy mareep did her best do dance out of the way of a lotad''s Water Gun. She tried, but Jeanne just wasn''t the most agile pok¨¦mon around. This battle against some semi-retired man who decided to go fly fishing was going about as I''d expected.


    I told her before we started that I would not be giving her any commands this time; I wanted my pok¨¦mon to be able to handle battles on this level on their own. Jeanne had agreed with her usual cheer, only to get stymied by a surprisingly strong lotad.


    The lilypad covered pok¨¦mon proved something I''d suspected but hadn''t applied to pok¨¦mon battles: Water didn''t conduct electricity. To be more specific, pure water wasn''t an effective conductor. When a Water Gun and a Thunder Shock met in midair, one might expect the electricity to travel along the water and shock the lotad. One would be wrong, or near enough.


    What really happened was that the Water Gun, having more mass, pressed through the Thunder Shock, forcing Jeanne to dodge. What little electricity that traveled along the water to strike the lotad did little if any damage thanks to its part grass type.


    I wasn''t sure how pure a Water Gun was, but I suspected it didn''t contain too many salt ions.


    Jeanne, for all her enthusiasm, wasn''t a tactical thinker. After the fourth time trying the same game of beam-chicken and being forced to retreat, she shot me a pitiable look.


    ''I suppose it''s a good time to intervene.''


    ''It seems so, my lord.''


    "Electric Terrain," I barked. She took a Water Gun, soaking her wool, but obeyed with a wince. "Then Charge into Thunder Shock."


    That did it. The extra boost from the charged terrain along with a brief internal powerup was enough to overcome lotad''s grass typing. The Thunder Shock was so empowered that it was virtually indistinguishable from a decently powerful Thunderbolt. It also tuckered out my little lamb. She was the victor, but there was no question that she wouldn''t be ready for a second bout.


    I shook the fisherman''s hand and received my LC bounty. 500 LC was nothing to scoff at.


    "Heh, kids these days. No shame at all, robbing their elders for spending money," he groused goodnaturedly. Next to him, a beefy ludicolo with hints of gray in its poncho-like fur, probably that lotad''s parent, laughed and consoled the young froglike pok¨¦mon.


    "If you wanted to win, I''m sure you would have sent out that guy over there. Is he your partner?"


    "She, but yeah. Fiesta is the big reason I settled down around here. Weather''s perfect for her old bones, son."


    "That''s great. Thanks for the battle, mister."


    "Sure, sure. I don''t have anything better to do these days. Fiesta will win the money back for me on the next poor sap we meet."


    I stumbled at that. "Heh, guess I''m lucky."


    "Yup. Take care, kid."


    There was a small but significant number of people like him along Route 117. They were trainers who had gone on their journeys and decided to settle down along the flower-laden path. Many of them still had powerful pok¨¦mon like Fiesta, though only a few had their full teams from their prime.


    I found that interesting in itself. Some trainers met with tragedy, losing team members here and there. Others found that the retired life didn''t suit some pok¨¦mon, particularly because some pok¨¦mon had vastly extended lifespans. I''d read a popular story of a ninetales in Kanto going on a pok¨¦mon journey eight separate times, each time with the next generation of her human''s family. It was also fairly common for retiring trainers to give away their pok¨¦mon, either to the rangers for relocation into the wild or the gyms so they could train the next generation.


    Seeing people like him made me wonder how many of my team I''d have by my side when I was old and gray.


    ''At least one,'' Artoria promised, waves of reassurance accompanying her words. ''I have but one lord and master. I shall serve none other.''


    I gave her the mental equivalent of a hug back. ''Love you too, Artoria.''


    Author''s Note


    Yes, I skipped over the lengthy "Hi, I''m from another world and reincarnated/transmigrated to this one. I am and am not the same Aaron Fulan," chat.


    Wanted two chapters to describe the route. More could happen I suppose, but Route 117 just isn''t a very interesting route.


    Thank you for reading. To reach a wider audience, and because I enjoy a more forum-like setup to facilitate discussion, I like to crosspost to a wide variety of websites. You can find them all on my Link Tree: https://linktr.ee/fabled.webs.</a>

 2.3 Salad

    Salad 2.3


    Aaron Fulan


    Verdanturf Town, Hoenn Region


    Six days after leaving Mauville, I was here and "here" took my breath away.


    Verdanturf was a countryside paradise. It looked like one of those Danish villages I''d seen on postcards and travel magazines in my past life, with fields of flowers as far as the eye could see and bushes of succulent berries all along the roadside, just waiting for a passing soul to pick them. The air here was noticeably crisp, not just compared to Mauville, but even the route, as though several grass types acted as living air fresheners daily.


    According to the Pok¨¦Nav''s guidebook, that was basically what was going on. Bellossom, the final form of oddish, were an unusually common sight here, the largest population of them outside a grass type reserve in Johto, and their naturally purifying properties were evident for all to experience.


    Which, upon further reflection, raised an important question: Where were they getting sun stones? Was there some kind of giant sun stone somewhere nearby just like the giant moon stone on Mt. Moon? Did the local bellossom conduct some ritual of evolution once a year with a batch of new gloom? Or maybe there were trace minerals in the water that catalyzed this specific evolutionary path?


    Strictly speaking, this wasn''t like the games. A stone, or most evolutionary items I was familiar with for that matter, wasn''t necessary for evolution. Otherwise, pok¨¦mon like oddish and bellsprout would have died out in the wild thanks to the simple fact that their most powerful forms were locked behind a giant scavenger hunt.


    This was not so. Vileplume and bellossom weren''t common, but nor were they nearly as rare in the wild as one would expect.


    In this world unrestricted by a developer''s programming logic, age and power were perfectly acceptable substitutes. In fact, some believed that a natural evolution was more powerful, claiming that the catalyzing effect of evolutionary items provided immediate benefits in exchange for long-term potential.


    Evidence was¡­ mixed¡­ on that front. For example, Lance and Clair both had monstrously powerful kingdra and neither were "natural" evolutions, both having received dragon scales from one of the many dragonite that called Blackthorn home. Then again, those two were exceptionally powerful trainers. It could simply be that their kingdra were powerful in spite of their triggered evolution.


    No matter the truth, the bellossom population here was far more numerous than expected. While it was true that pok¨¦mon with branching evolutionary paths were likely to evolve into forms they were most familiar with, usually whatever their parents or leaders in their communities were, the sheer quantity of bellossom in Verdanturf was abnormal.


    ''It has certainly done wonders for this town,'' Artoria quipped. She let out a pleased sigh, practically dancing by anyone else''s standards. ''If this is the result of too many of these flower dancers, perhaps we should all strive to cultivate more of them.''


    ''You like the air, huh?''


    ''I do. It has a refreshing aroma and even were I not a fan of the scent, many people are. Their uplifted mood is positively delicious.''


    Saying so, she nudged an impression my way. For a moment, I felt my senses replaced by hers. Smell and taste blended seamlessly until I could hardly tell the two apart. The air quite literally tasted sweet and fruity, light with a bit of a bounce. If I had to tie an impression to it from my old life, I would liken it to Christmas morning as a child. It was the hope, the eager expectation, that anything could happen. If optimism could be distilled into a perfume, this would be it.


    ''This is wonderful. Is this what you taste when you feed off emotions?''


    ''Indeed, my lord. There is something delicious about this type of optimism. I think this type of flavor is my favorite even among all other positive emotions. The thrill of a new day is contagious.''


    ''So it is. I''ll try to be more optimistic for you then,'' I promised.


    ''There is no need for that, my liege. I assure you I am eating fine. Besides, trying to be what you are not would only taint the flavor.''


    ''Heh, my kirlia is a glutton even when it comes to emotions.''


    ''Hunger is the enemy,'' she sniffed.


    ''Of course it is,'' I smiled indulgently. ''Honestly, seeing you so happy makes me wonder if we should have stopped to catch a roselia for the team.''


    ''Hmm¡­ I would not be opposed to a teammate who is florally inclined.''


    ''We''ll see. If we meet one, it wouldn''t be a bad idea. Grass is a criminally underestimated type.''


    X


    There were a few things I wanted to do in the town. To start, I had to go register for the pok¨¦mon contest. I still had four days, but I wanted to get that out of the way as soon as possible before going on my mega stone hunt. I didn''t think Jeanne would forgive me if I forgot about it. The three of us walked to the wealthy north end of town and found the building. Really, it was impossible to miss.


    The contest hall was honestly kind of ugly. It was a deep maroon color, which would have been fine, on its own, but it was also shaped like a military pillbox I''d seen in one of those WWII documentaries, or maybe one of those hilariously pointless duncecaps that seemingly every military dress uniform seemed to include. To either side were two fountains shaped like pok¨¦balls so people could sit around while waiting for the show to start.


    The interior was much better. It was a half-moon shape with the center area being taken up by a prominent stage that doubled as the battlefield. To the right of the stage was a set of three desks where the three judges would sit. Typically, those seats were taken by a prominent member of the hosting city or town, a member of the League, and a wildcard guest, oftentimes a veteran coordinator.


    I walked up to the registration booth. Next to me, my mareep was literally glowing with excitement. I could even feel the hairs on my leg tingle and stand on end whenever I brushed past her. To my other side, Artoria had her spoon out and was rolling a marble of psychic energy around the rim, an exercise in control she did almost absentmindedly at this point.


    "Hello, ma''am," I greeted the teller. She was a middle-aged woman whose nametag proclaimed her as a proud member of the local contest fan club. Larger contest halls had formalized staff, but I supposed that in a small town like this, volunteers were a great way to cut down on overhead costs.


    "Hello, sweetie, are you here to register for the contest?"


    "Mareep!" Jeanne bleated cheerfully, standing on two hooves and leaning against the booth. Her glowing tai wagged like a puppy''s. "Reep!"


    "Aww, she''s adorable. Is she the one competing? Your kirlia is quite lovely as well."


    "Yes, Jeanne, my mareep, has been looking forward to this all week."


    I was in the process of handing her my dex when I heard a familiar voice shout behind me.


    "You!"


    "Hello, Drew," I said with a lazy wave. The green-haired boy was standing next to a tall, attractive girl with salmon-pink hair and intense blue eyes. Unlike the boy, her demeanor was filled with grace and poise. "Fancy seeing you here. Who''s your friend?"


    "You said you weren''t competing!"


    "I never said that."


    "You did!"


    "No, I said it''d be strange if Artoria won this contest since she isn''t competing. Jeanne on the other hand, is quite thrilled at the prospect."


    I took some small satisfaction in watching his eyebrow twitch as he tried to find a comeback. It was petty of me, he hadn''t done anything egregiously wrong, but I couldn''t find it in me to care overmuch. I wondered if frustration was an emotion Artoria could taste as well.


    ''I''d rather not, my lord,'' she said dryly. ''Frustration tastes bitter and chalky. It is something that linger unpleasantly. Must you antagonize him?''


    ''It''s funny?''


    ''And unknightly.''


    ''Fine, fine, you win. Would you like me to apologize?''


    ''No, my lord should not be so quick to bow his head. He was the one to give offense first. But nor should you continue to jab at what fragile dignity he has left.''


    Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.


    I stooped down a bit to scratch Artoria between her horns in that one place I knew she loved but would never admit to. It was always fun to feel her vibrate with indecision between shrugging off my hand or luxuriating in the sensation. ''Hehe, since when is my little knight so wise?''


    ''Hmph, I have always been wise. My lord is only now opening his eyes to the truth,'' she sniffed, turning her nose up.


    I chuckled and picked Artoria up, ignoring her embarrassed squirming. ''Well maybe you can help me see clearly from a better height.''


    ''Height jokes. How juvenile. I won''t be small forever.''


    ''Don''t worry, I''ll still hug you even when you become a gardevoir.''


    ''That isn''t what I meant and you know it.''


    "You''re doing it again!"


    I turned back to him. For a few seconds, I''d completely forgotten he was here. "Oh, yeah? Sorry, guess I got lost in thought. My kirlia is adorable and hilarious. Anyway, Jeanne, my mareep, is competing."


    "Che, no matter. My budew and I are going to take the win."


    "We''ll see, but it''s not good to boast you know. You just end up sounding like a blowhard if you lose."


    "That won''t matter because I''ll win."


    "Then you''ll sound like a smug jackass. Gracious in defeat, humble in victory, you know?"


    "A friendly rivalry already? But you shouldn''t count other contestants out," said the girl who came with Drew. She sent me a mature smile that made me curse my hormones. "Hello, my name is Solidad and this will be my third year as a coordinator."


    "Solidad¡­"


    ''Is she someone you know, my lord?''


    ''Maybe¡­'' I held out my hand for her to shake. "Aaron. That''s an odd name. Are you not from Hoenn?"


    "No, I''m from Pewter City in Kanto. Contests aren''t as big there, but I wanted to be a coordinator ever since I saw one on TV so I''ve been traveling through Sinnoh for two years. I decided a change of scenery might be nice so here I am for the third."


    "Wow, then I guess a normal-rank contest like this is going to be a piece of cake for you."


    "I have an advantage, but that''s no reason to not put your best foot forward. Raw power is much less important in a contest than in a gym battle, so it''s possible for younger trainers to quickly overtake even a past victor," she encouraged. "I won my first ribbon from only the second contest I''ve ever been in."


    "True enough, but now that means you have both experience and power."


    "I''m glad you think highly of me, but remember that I''m competing at this rank because I don''t yet qualify for a higher one. That''s partially because Hoenn did not recognize my credentials from Johto, but I do have to be honest and say that I have much to learn."


    "In any case, Jeanne and I will be working hard to master our routine."


    "Then I''ll look forward to a challenge."


    We parted on good terms. Solidad was the polar opposite of Drew. She was a woman who''d long since become accustomed to the trainer''s life and had a wealth of experience to back her. Speaking to her jogged my memories a bit. I remembered her as a famous coordinator during May''s time, someone who''d become a mentor for both her and Zoe. It meant that whatever her struggles in the past few years, she would likely become a Grand Coordinator in the near future.


    Speaking of famous coordinators, I was reminded of Lisia, the closest thing the pok¨¦mon world had to a pop idol. She said she would travel to Lilycove to compete in her first contest and I wondered how she was doing.


    ''Perhaps she would appreciate a call, my lord?''


    ''You think so?''


    ''I find her company far more pleasant than this Drew fellow.''


    ''You and me both.''


    X


    In another half hour, the three of us found ourselves in our room in the pok¨¦mon center. The Pok¨¦Nav rang for all of four seconds before the call went through. My vision was filled with fluffy white clouds as Ali pecked at the screen curiously.


    "Ali, stop that," I heard Lisia chide before the blue songbird was lifted into the air and her smiling face took up the screen. She fumbled in her breast pocket before extracting a familiar case. "Hey, Aaron! Look what I''ve got!"


    In her hands was what I''d expected, her first contest ribbon. It was a brass shield with a crown that held in place a ribbon of blue bubbles framed in green. Like badges, the real record was kept digitally, just in case she lost the thing, but it still made for an impressive trophy.


    "I thought you might have that," I said with a soft smile, "and from your first contest ever. Congratulations. Only two more until you qualify for super-ranks, right?"


    "Mou! You can''t do the all-knowing psychic thing!"


    "I told you, I don''t have the Sight."


    "Then why aren''t you more surprised?" she pouted cutely.


    "What can I say, I have an eye for talent. I really do think you''re the most likely person to dethrone your uncle. Just call it a gut feeling, hmm?"


    "T-Thanks," she stammered. For all her enthusiasm, she was still a teenager and I didn''t know a single one that could take a compliment without embarrassment. She hastily changed the subject. "Well, are you ready for Verdanturf? That''s in four days, right?"


    "We are," I nodded firmly. "I don''t know if we''ll win, but Jeanne and I will give it the ol'' college try."


    "But you''re not in college, silly."


    "Yeah, I''m not sure where the phrase comes from either now that you mention it. Anyway, are you still in Lilycove?"


    "Uh-huh. Ali and I''ve been hanging around at home, but we''re going to visit the Safari Zone in a bit before heading to Fortree City. I can''t wait to see all the cool flying types there!"


    "Hmm, still in Lilycove? You''re not getting lazy now that you''ve won a ribbon, are you?" I teased.


    "I''m not, you meanie! Mom''s just really good at making me want to stay, alright? She makes these really good cream puffs and every time I want to leave, she bribes Ali with her favorite poffins. It''s unfair."


    "Of course. Truly a formidable woman. Why Fortree though? Do they have a contest hall I don''t know about?"


    She shrugged. "Kind of¡­ Their annual Feather Carnival is coming up. I heard Leader Winona is going to be performing a special sky dance with her altaria so Ali and I wanted to go check it out. You know, get some tips from a real pro. There''s also an amateur contest that''s not really sponsored and only for flying types but it''d be cool to win it."


    "Yeah, that sounds pretty sweet. Anyway, it was nice talking to you, but I''m going to go train while I still have some daylight left."


    "Yeah, keep in touch, Aaron! Bye!"


    The signal winked out, leaving me alone with my two pok¨¦mon. I stood and gestured to my team. "Shall we?"


    X


    "KIIRRRLLLIIIAAAA!" My little knight-in-training let out a valiant (adorable) roar as she rushed forward with Mana Burst, turning into a comet of bite-sized aggression and determination. Her normally blue-clad spoon was shrouded in deep, mist-like violet that left a trail of sinister light in her wake.


    Her attack struck the thick tree trunk she''d chosen to practice against with significant force, tearing a wicked gouge into the bark roughly four inches deep. Unfortunately, it was the silver of the spoon rather than the phantasmal aura of ghost types that did most of the work. The aura shattered on contact with the trunk, dispersing like a flame scattered in the wind.


    She returned to her starting point and took up her ready stance.


    ''Artoria, dear, maybe you should stop,'' I suggested gently. This was her first major bottleneck since we began traveling. Everything came to her easily. She was a natural with the blade, possessed of both monstrous talent and single-minded dedication to the art. She was the ideal student; I couldn''t imagine a more perfect pupil in that regard. Even fashioning custom moves using psychic energy was a minor challenge at best for her.


    And then there was Shadow Sneak. Ghost type aura fucked with psychics; everyone knew that. But it wasn''t as though the two were truly incompatible. If I had to describe it, the contrast was more an alienness in their way of thought rather than any fundamentally unreconcilable difference. The mind and soul were intrinsically linked after all, and the majority of fully evolved ghost and psychics could learn moves from the other''s type. Hell, the fact that a gallade could pass on Shadow Sneak as an inherited move to a ralts proved my point.


    But that alienness of thought was proving to be a major obstacle for my little knight. Ghosts were stealthy. Ghosts were spiritual. Ghosts were entities who embodied the intangible and unknowable. Artoria was direct and honest. Artoria turned her great mental affinity towards refining her body and technique. Ghosts were everything Artoria wasn''t.


    And it showed.


    She began by trying to sink into her own shadow as the move demanded but decided to stop that when we found it took her a full fifteen seconds, an eternity in battle. Instead of trying to shroud her entire body, we decided to simply work on the physical aspect, sticking only to her spoon. Even then, keeping up the enhancement for a decisive strike was proving to be a challenge.


    ''I will master this move before the day is through,'' she swore.


    ''I don''t doubt you will, but not today.''


    ''This is the move passed down from my sire. I must-''


    ''Artoria, come here,'' I spoke firmly, giving our mental bond a sharp tug. I seldom snapped at her, but it was necessary. The trouble with training-nuts was that they just didn''t know when to quit. She trudged to my side, her expression mulish. I patted my lap and she sat down without her usual complaint.


    The two of us watched Jeanne train. My little lamb had taken to making only a few Cotton Spores at a time, launching them into the air before nailing them with a low-powered Thunder Shock to light them up while working on her accuracy. She was improving, turning Cotton Spore form an indiscriminate attack to something¡­ not precise perhaps, but more directed.


    I absentmindedly brushed my partner''s emerald locks into place.


    ''It shouldn''t be this hard,'' Artoria said. I could feel her self-flagellation through the bond. Shame. Frustration. The impression that she was letting me down somehow.


    ''It should be this hard,'' I chided gently. ''You know ghost type moves will always be hard for a psychic.''


    ''I am not other psychics.''


    ''No, you''re my little knight. You can already teleport in combat. Sinking into shadows would be useful, but it''s not a critical need. Take it slower.''


    ''At least the weapon enhancement¡­ How else will I strike down phantoms?''


    ''That will come in time. Be patient. In fact, I''m forbidding you from swinging your sword again for the rest of the day.''


    She whirled indignantly. ''But-!''


    I squashed her hair down. It was convenient having hands big enough to grip her head like a baseball. ''Listen,'' I chided. ''You''re going to stop swinging that spoon around like a berserker. All you''re doing is tiring yourself out. Instead, sit with me. Meditate. Try to channel ghost type aura into your spoon and refine it. If you accustom yourself to having it, it might last longer.''


    ''I¡­ Perhaps you''re right, my lord.''


    ''Good. Have you noticed that trail of aura you leave behind every time you swing?''


    ''Yes.''


    ''Well, while it looks cool, it''s proof that you''re wasting your aura. Condense it. Focus on holding it in place and shaping it to become an edge around the spoon.''


    ''As you say, my lord.''


    ''You''ll get this, Artoria. I believe in you.''


    She looked at me with newfound determination before settling onto her knees, her sword on her lap. ''I will not let you down.''


    With Jeanne refining her contest routine and Artoria in meditation, I had a rare moment to myself. I pulled out my bokken and began to practice. Over a month away from home had given me back some of my stamina, but it''d be up to me to drill in the muscle memory I remembered from my past life. Between sword practice, sorting my memories, physical conditioning, and training my team, I had a daunting schedule.


    I wouldn''t have it any other way.


    Author''s Note


    Why Solidad? Because I feel like no one gives famous coordinators enough screentime in fics.


    The Feather Carnival is an actual thing in canon.


    Thank you for reading. To reach a wider audience, and because I enjoy a more forum-like setup to facilitate discussion, I like to crosspost to a wide variety of websites. You can find them all on my Link Tree: https://linktr.ee/fabled.webs.</a>

 2.4 Salad

    Salad 2.4


    Aaron Fulan


    Verdanturf Town, Hoenn Region


    My alarm rang. I woke up. I opened my eyes and my world remained dark. There was a warm, sweaty weight over my face that I found distinctly unpleasant. I reached up to wipe it off and my fingers sank deeply into Jeanne''s wool. I grumbled as I rolled my soggy lamb off my face.


    "Must you sleep on my face, Jeanne?" I asked as I tried to wipe the sweat from my face. Jeanne didn''t sweat; ovines didn''t have any sweat glands. I sure as hell did though and spending the night with a warm, wool pillow over my face left me drenched. That, and wet wool just didn''t smell nice.


    "Maaa," she bleated. It sounded distinctly like a chortle.


    "You''re lucky I don''t shave you bald."


    "Maareep."


    I couldn''t understand precisely what she said, but I could recognize snark when it was given. If I did shave her, she''d probably grow it back that very day out of spite. I reached over and gave her nose a chiding flick. In the end, I decided a shower could wait until after our morning run and turned to wake Artoria.


    My starter had acquired another pillow from the pok¨¦mon center staff and claimed it like a conquering hero. Or a dragon. Artoria was draconic, right? I couldn''t quite remember, but mine certainly seemed that way with her gluttony sometimes. She slept on that pillow like Smaug on his hoard, unwilling to let even a single coin out of sight. Her green bangs were splayed over her face, rising and falling with her breath.


    "Artoria, wake up," I nudged.


    "Kii¡­" she mumbled. It wasn''t even a fully formed thought, just the first rumblings of consciousness.


    Honestly, I wondered how someone could both be so diligent and so against mornings. It took her several minutes to wake up properly, but once roused, I knew she''d train herself into the ground with a smile. She didn''t work hard to play hard; she worked hard so she could work even harder. In that light, perhaps her love of food and sleep made some sense.


    If I were an anime character, I''d probably have Jeanne jolt her awake for comedic effect. Rather than force the issue, I instead picked her up, pillow-bed and all, and began to walk outside. The rhythmic rocking of my footsteps slowly started to coax her from Cresselia''s realm.


    I led Jeanne to the canteen. Like most places in Verdanturf, there was an abundance of flowers even indoors. One entire wall was dedicated to planters and flowerpots tended by an energetic bellossom. Only a few of them were herbs I recognized. In fact, I doubted more than half of these were edible at all; a fair number seemed to only be there for the aroma. Truly, the town was a flower enthusiast''s paradise and an allergic''s worst nightmare.


    I got in line to grab a light breakfast, yogurt and granola to tide us over until lunch. Jeanne happily settled for grass supplements made of hay, local foliage, dried berries, and bamboo shoots. As for Artoria, seeing how she was currently in no position to claim her food, I decided to get her what I was getting.


    "Aww, your kirlia is just waking up. She''s sooo cuutttee~" I heard a voice croon behind me. It belonged to a chubby lunch lady¡­ or was it breakfast lady? She was pushing along a cart full of more breakfast goodies to stock the self-serve station. There were usual staples like sausage and scrambled eggs, but I noticed that a disproportionate amount of dishes were vegetarian or vegan, all the better to show off the season''s harvest. As I''d read, Verdanturf had a long history of agriculture, particularly orchards, and they were justly proud of it.


    That did it. Artoria was wide awake. Her eyes snapped open and she reached inside the pillowcase as though drawing Caliburn from its rocky sheath. She teleported to the ground and slung her spoon over her shoulder before strutting stiffly by my side, ready to conquer her ever-distant utopia.


    "Hehe, thanks for waking her. She''s pretty bad at getting up in the morning but she really hates being called cute."


    "Aww, why?"


    ''It is unknightly,'' I heard my partner grumble in my mind.


    "She''s a very proud pok¨¦mon. She doesn''t even like letting me carry her normally."


    "Well, I think she''s adorable."


    "Me too. Her pouting just makes her cuter. Thanks for breakfast, ma''am."


    "Oh, you three are very welcome."


    After breakfast, we briefly dropped by our room to put Artoria''s pillow back before heading out for a jog. In the games, three mega stones could be acquired in Verdanturf: the mawilite, pidgeotite, and gardevoirite.


    The mawilite was somewhere in the wild, buried in the southeast edge of town, just bordering Route 117. The pidgeotite was given by a girl who didn''t know what she was holding in exchange for finding her lost shroomish. If there was a more lopsided trade in the setting, I didn''t know of it. The gardevoirite was given by Wanda, Wally''s cousin who lived to the southwest, for clearing a path through Rusturf Tunnel. She also had access to a galladite if I remembered right, but it was reserved for her shy cousin.


    Assuming Wanda did not have the gardevoirite somewhere in her cabinet already, it seemed like a fair assumption to say that she found it somewhere near her house in the southern part of town, if not past its outer limits. The problem was, it was only available after the player captured Groudon or Kyogre. Was that a quirk of game development or was it something more mystical?


    If mystical, it would most stones were unavailable to me and would remain so for years. It would also suggest that some sort of energy resonance existed between the Land, Sea, Sky, and these mysterious relics¡­ which in hindsight wouldn''t be too surprising considering Rayquaza was the only pok¨¦mon who didn''t need a partnered human to mega evolve.


    I certainly hoped this wasn''t the case, otherwise I''d be spending a lot of time here for nothing.


    But just to be thorough, if I couldn''t find it in Verdanturf, I''d be forced to pay a visit to Petalburg to see if I''d have more luck in Wally''s neck of the woods. And then Rustboro after that.


    Since both the mawilite and gardevoirite were in the south, as far as I knew, that was where we would begin our search. I planned to do a grid-pattern jog through the southern half of town for the next few days to see if Artoria could sense the fairy type aura.


    I was practically salivating at the thought of not just gardevoirite, but mawilite as well. And if I was particularly fortunate, a pidgeotite, though Artoria couldn''t search for that one.


    I was brought out of my musings by my partner. ''Did you have to carry me, my lord?''


    ''I wanted you to have as much time in bed as possible. You do like to cozy up for a bit before you really get focused. Just be glad I didn''t have Jeanne jolt you awake.''


    ''I think I''d prefer the shock,'' she grumbled. ''A knight should not be ferried by her lord.''


    ''Don''t worry about what is and is not "knightly." It''s got nothing to do with being a good swordsman anyway.'' It was an old argument between us. I felt that Artoria placed far too much value in the code of chivalry, perhaps even to her detriment.


    ''My father-''


    ''Quinn adheres to the knight''s code because he decided to after traveling, growing, and experiencing the world. To him, that code isn''t just something he read in a book; it''s something he developed and internalized for himself after pondering over right and wrong, justice and injustice. Quinn is a knight because his experiences forged him into a knight.''


    ''Then surely it is a code worth following.''


    ''It is,'' I agreed. I waved as we passed a fruit stand that had just started to open. ''For him. A code of ethics is truly valuable when you wholeheartedly believe in it, not just in your head or because you were taught, but because you have experiential knowledge that shaped your identity to follow said code. That''s why this journey is so important, Artoria. Not just because it will make you a better swordsman, but because it will help you discover yourself.''


    ''If¡­ If you say so, my lord. I don''t know where to start. How does one discover oneself?''


    ''Slowly, with patience, diligence, and an open mind. It''s going to be a lot of work, but that''s okay. Baby steps. Now look alive and see if you notice any fairy or psychic type aura.''


    ''Yes!''


    To neither of our surprise, we found nothing but false positives. There was a brief moment when Artoria thought she might have felt something, but it turned out to be a girl and her snubbull practicing Charm in her backyard. Several times, natu, spoink, and even an espeon managed to fool her senses. That was fine. The jog was more about eliminating where the mega stones weren''t so we could narrow down possibilities rather than actually finding the stones.


    After our jog, the three of us split to do our individual training. Jeanne practiced her routine, trying to make her spores more targeted. Artoria meditated more on her sword and the nature of ghost type energy. When she got bored of that, she watched over Jeanne''s practice and tried to predict which spores would land where in an attempt to hone her precognition.


    As for me, I settled in my best approximation of a meditative posture next to her. It was time to work on my lackluster psychic affinity.


    Psychic energy was¡­ interesting.


    Back home, one of mom''s gym trainers held free guided meditation sessions every evening for anyone who wanted to drop by. It was almost disgustingly, stereotypically hippie. Deep breaths, incense sticks, ASMR background noises, the whole shebang.


    I attended a few of those sessions before and found it to be more or less what I expected. Breathe in. Out. Clear the mind. Way back when I was six, I asked her why we hosted sessions like this. She told me that it was a good way to find hidden talent, and just as important, find those who might be willing and interested in developing said talent.


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    It was also unfortunately as much description as was generally possible when guiding others to train. After all, how did one describe something where physical sensations were totally absent?


    Fortunately, I had a fellow psychic to guide me. This was the major reason why psychics grew exponentially faster when in the company of other psychics. Experience and example could succeed where words fell short. The bond between Artoria and I was an ever-pulsing source of warmth in my mind. It spoke of loyalty and love, passion and ambition.


    It was this bond I used as my guiding light. Or perhaps, the better description was that of a whetstone to sharpen my own mind against.


    Little by little, I could feel my mind adapting, slowly changing to fill in the blanks of all those lessons I''d failed to grasp with mom. It was an agonizingly slow process, like trying to wear down marble using a single sheet of sandpaper, but I hoped to one day be capable of all the things Artoria could do.


    We stayed in our separate routines until lunch. The pok¨¦mon center canteen provided us a healthy meal of fruit salad, chicken, and some kind of bread that reminded me of sourdough. Pok¨¦mon could be consumed for food, and often enough were, but the pok¨¦mon center refrained for obvious reasons. The lunch was a simple, healthy fare that Jeanne supplemented with some newly sprouted shoots of grass.


    That was another oddity I''d noticed about having a sheep pok¨¦mon to take care of: She chewed cud. For hours. She chewed cud while she practiced. She chewed while we jogged. Sometimes, I thought she chewed even while she napped. It wasn''t disruptive or anything, but I wondered if it was okay for her to be doing this while training.


    When I asked, the nurse laughed and handed Jeanne some kind of plant-based jerky. It smelled of fresh hay, fibrous mushrooms, and some kind of flower I couldn''t quite place. She took one bite and literally lit up like a light bulb with delight. "Oh, don''t worry about that. That''s perfectly normal among bovine and ovine pok¨¦mon. Miltank, tauros, wooloo, and dubwool all do it too. It''s because they have multi-chambered stomachs and regurgitate food to chew. It helps them get more nutrients out of their meals."


    "Huh. I mean, I think I''ve read about cows doing that, but never thought pok¨¦mon similar to them had the same habit."


    "Pok¨¦mon share a lot of biological traits with their more animalistic counterparts. For example, a treecko''s fingers look remarkably similar to a gecko''s under a microscope. Though pok¨¦mon have seemingly miraculous powers, that doesn''t mean natural selection for optimal biological phenotypes isn''t a thing. In fact, some pok¨¦mon share similar instincts to their duller cousins such as a desire to build nests in certain places, confront predators a certain way, that sort of thing."


    "That sounds like a fascinating field of study," I told her sincerely. I was never much of a scholar, but I knew there were plenty of engineers and biologists who made a career of cross-disciplinary studies, drawing inspiration for machine designs by observing biology. Biomimicry, it was called. It made sense that in the pok¨¦mon world, scientists would sometimes compare pok¨¦mon and standard animal evolution to discern parallels. "Is it okay for her to train while chewing though? I don''t need to wait a full four hours for her to fully digest her meals, do I?"


    She snorted daintily. "Four hours? Try the whole day. Pok¨¦mon and animals that chew cud do it for most of the day. But don''t worry, it won''t have any negative effects on her training. It''s something they do that''s almost as instinctual as breathing."


    "Oh, that''s convenient. Thank you nurse."


    "No problem. It''s great to see young people interested in biology, even if only to make sure their pok¨¦mon are doing well."


    X


    After lunch, the three of us found ourselves wandering the south side of the town once more, hoping to get a hint as to the location of the mega stones. Verdanturf was small in population, but like many rural towns, once you got outside the town center, which consisted of buildings of municipal importance and a small business district, buildings tended to spread themselves out noticeably. The town covered a bigger geographic area than one might expect and it was taking some time to scan the whole thing.


    I wasn''t complaining though. It really was a beautiful place and watching volbeat and illumise flirt with one another over a garden of flowers was oddly soothing. We were halfway through the section of town I''d parsed out for the day when we came across the Verdant Meadows Trainers'' School.


    That alone wouldn''t have drawn my eye if not for the sceptile and shiftry locking Leaf Blades.


    Unova had battle clubs sponsored by some veteran-turned-entrepreneur called Don George. They were basically YMCAs from my past life, except dedicated to pok¨¦mon battling and hardcore workouts. Weights, wave pools, treadmills. Whatever a pok¨¦mon might conceivably need to get stronger, they had them.


    Most other regions had far more modest arrangements. The majority of pok¨¦mon centers had at least one battlefield where traveling trainers could network and test each other for fun or quick cash. It was often not enough. There just wasn''t enough room for everyone to battle, especially with a team of six, so people often looked for other solutions.


    In less notable towns like Verdanturf with fewer travelers, it was often the trainer schools that were the stars of the training scene. Locals and rangers often availed themselves of the facilities after classes were finished for the day.


    This connected up and coming trainers with the local community and gave students the chance to see different types of trainers and learn more about their career paths from those currently in the field. If a kid was especially lucky and caught the right eye, even a starter or a more formal internship wasn''t out of the question.


    That certainly explained why two fully evolved pok¨¦mon were duking it out in a school meant for little tykes. But the nuances of human social circles and pseudo career fairs weren''t of any interest to Artoria.


    ''My lord, look! Look!'' she shouted excitedly in my mind. The bond practically oozed delight as she watched two "swordsmen" clash. She swung her spoon around, miming some of the slashes the sceptile performed. Her vocalizations were just "Kirlia-kir-kirlia," but that was enough to get several people to turn around.


    I got to see her flush with embarrassment, but even that wasn''t enough to quell her enthusiasm. She rushed off to the bleachers for ringside seats.


    Judging by their uniforms, both trainers were rangers here to spar during their off time, or perhaps a teacher had called in a favor to hold a demonstration for the students. The sceptile''s partner was a woman in her late twenties and a large, ten-gallon hat to beat the sun. The shiftry''s partner was a man of about the same age who fiddled with a whistle around his neck. They both wore mirror smirks.


    The sceptile and shiftry were evenly matched, or near enough that it wasn''t immediately obvious which was the better fighter. The sceptile was noticeably faster. It used a mix of Quick Attack, Leaf Blade, and Double Team to seemingly strike from every direction at once. The ranger had obviously worked hard on training her partner, because it could even use Quick Attack in midair to change directions by "double-jumping" like a videogame character.


    If I got a pok¨¦mon who could learn that, I as going to call it Geppo for sure.


    The shiftry was also blisteringly fast, but slower in comparison. It made up for that by using its entire body and more to fight. Its wild, silver mane shone in the light as it whipped its head around, lashing it like a whip. That same turn became a full-body rotation, sending an aura-clad foot through one clone''s head. Since nothing stopped its momentum, its fanned fingers came down in a wide arc, whipping up a flurry of wind blades around itself.


    "Air Slash? The kick¡­ Mega Kick? Leaf Blade with the other hand obviously¡­ What''s making its mane spiky?" I wondered.


    "Harden," a man spoke up next to me. I was so caught up in the show that I didn''t see him arrive. He wore a green polo with the school logo on his left breast and khaki shorts. He also had a truly spectacular beard-fro that made his jaw look large enough to swallow a melon. I hadn''t realized I had spoken aloud.


    "Ah, you''re right. A seedot learns it naturally, right?"


    "That''s right, young man. It''s impressive that you could identify the Mega Kick though. Most people don''t know shiftry can learn that one."


    "I''m guessing that''s because most shiftry don''t bother fighting with their feet."


    "Yup. Most shiftry fight using their blades and hurricane-force winds at range."


    "But how can a shiftry know Harden? I get that seedot learn it naturally because they''re seeds and all, but¡­ It doesn''t make sense that they''d keep the move even after evolution."


    "You''d normally be right. It''s not unusual for pok¨¦mon to change their movesets as they evolve to suit their newfound bodies, or simply to replace a weaker move with a more advanced, powerful variant. For example, a poliwag is actually oftentimes better at using Hypnosis than a politoed because of the way its stomach pattern becomes less pronounced upon evolution."


    I turned to face him fully. Artoria could watch the two swordsmen. This guy was fascinating. "I''m assuming that ''normally'' isn''t ''always.''"


    "Of course not. Few things concerning pok¨¦mon are truly absolute. A pok¨¦mon can sometimes retain their prior evolution''s moves through either circumstance or training. In the case of the politoed example, it might use an auditory illusion to put its opponents in a trance instead of a purely visual one. It''s difficult to train, but I''ve seen it done.


    "That shiftry over there? It retained Harden through a whole lot of practice until it could harden its mane on the fly to use as a whip. It''s not quite as effective as an Iron Tail, but it''s good for turning away lighter assaults. Ranger Calico is pretty well-known in certain circles for creative training methos with extraordinary results like that."


    "Ranger Calico, huh? I''ll have to see if I can talk to him. Is it hard getting a pok¨¦mon to use a different move in each limb? Mega Kick. Leaf Blade. Air Slash."


    "Very. It''s definitely a lot more advanced than you''re likely to see from your average trainer. It might not eve be worthwhile because it necessitates that each move is weaker. Multitasking like that is only really useful if your pok¨¦mon has the right temperament, combat style, and a wide range of move choices. Otherwise, it might just be a waste of time."


    "Jack of all trades, master of none. It''s still worth thinking about. Thanks, Mr¡­"


    "Mr. Thrush. I teach pok¨¦mon evolutionary theory here. Nice to meet you, kid. You coming in from 117?"


    "Yeah, how''d you know?"


    He chuckled mirthlessly. "Something out west has been stirring up the whismur in Rusturf Tunnel. The whole area''s been cordoned off by the rangers because of it. If you were planning on heading west to Rustboro, you''re going to have to take the long way around the mountain."


    I clicked my tongue. "Crap. Alright, that''s good to know."


    "Your kirlia looks like she''s enjoying herself. Now is that spoon meant to be a psychic focus or a club?"


    "Why not both? Artoria''s a bit odd. She refuses to use any ranged attacks whatsoever until she becomes a powerful knight."


    "She knows that-"


    "That she can''t become a gallade? Yup. She wants to be like her dad though, so I decided to teach her kendo and adopt Confusion into a physical move."


    "Hoh? You''re already making custom moves? Ambitious, aren''t you?"


    I smiled winningly at him. "Yup. Artoria''s already a stellar swordsman and she''s very light on her feet. Really what she''s missing is the psychic power that comes with being a gardevoir but that''ll come in time."


    "Most people would say that''s a waste of potential for a gardevoir."


    "Most people are idiots. Pok¨¦mon really live up to their potential when they find what they''re passionate about. People too. You wouldn''t tell a kid he has to be a farmer just ''cause he''s got a green thumb if he says he wants to be a doctor, right? Why wouldn''t it be the same for pok¨¦mon?"


    "Heh, well said, kid. I like you; you seem like a kid with his head on straight. You here for a battle?"


    "Not particularly. I just happened to get drawn in by those two over there."


    "Well how ''bout a job then? If you come back tomorrow morning, you can go a few rounds with my students. Win or lose, I''ll pay you 100 LC per battle."


    I considered it. At about $10 per battle, it wasn''t a bad deal, especially since students wouldn''t be expected to give me any prize money. On the field, the battle was wrapping up. The sceptile had pulled out a Dual Chop, using the raw power of draconic aura to rip through the shiftry''s wind-based defenses. After that, a single, well-placed Leaf Blade ended it all.


    "What do you think, Jeanne, Artoria?"


    "Kir?"


    "Maa?"


    I explained to them the offer. "We can have a lighter jog in the morning then come here to battle."


    ''Wouldn''t that mean it would take longer to scan the town for my mega stone?'' Artoria asked. She didn''t say it, but she was almost pouting.


    ''We can do a quick jog in the evening to stay on schedule.''


    ''Then I have no objections, my lord. Instructing the next generation is also a worthy cause.''


    ''Hehe, "next generation" already? My, how you''ve grown.''


    ''You know what I meant.''


    "We''ll take it," I told the teacher.


    "Happy doing business with you¡­"


    "Oh, sorry. It''s Aaron, Mr. Thrush."


    "Good. I''ll see you tomorrow morning. 9 AM."


    Author''s Note


    Fabled''s random animal fact: Sheep, cows, pigs, and goats do not sweat. However, horses do, making them the odd ones out in this grouping of farm animals.


    Thank you for reading. To reach a wider audience, and because I enjoy a more forum-like setup to facilitate discussion, I like to crosspost to a wide variety of websites. You can find them all on my Link Tree: https://linktr.ee/fabled.webs.</a>

 2.5 Salad

    <div>


    Salad 2.5


    Aaron Fulan


    Verdanturf Town, Hoenn Region


    As promised, we kicked off the next morning with a light jog towards the Verdant Meadows Trainers'' School. Mr. Thrush was waiting outside, wearing that same polo with the school logo on it. He smiled¡­ maybe¡­ His beard-fro made it kind of hard to tell his expression if his mouth wasn''t open.


    "Good morning, Mr. Thrush," I greeted as I panted lightly to catch my breath. "Hope I''m not too late."


    "No, son, you''re just in time. Are you ready? I''m looking for a battle with both your mareep and kirlia, more if they have the stamina for it."


    "No problem, stamina''s been a huge part of our training since day one. Your students will have plenty of opportunities to battle us."


    "Glad to hear it. Now come on, this way."


    Mr. Thrush led me into the school, first to the office to register the job as official, and then to his class. The interior of the school was painted a cheery pastel-green, with flower patterns and pictures of a volbeat wearing a green scarf dotted throughout. The "Verdant Volbeat" was their mascot as I found out.


    The classroom had the complete opposite air as the rest of the school, not because the d¨¦cor was different, but because it was filled with children. As it was explained to me, Mr. Thrush''s class consisted of ten year old kids, which meant they had several years of schooling to become familiar with pok¨¦mon. Now, they were mostly eager for their journeys and looking forward to battling and contests, even if they still had three years to go.


    Like any other class of children, it was bedlam. Artoria visibly winced as she entered, unused to so much attention on her. I gently tugged on the bond, taking her conscious out of her body and into mine for a bit. It put distance between the wave of emotions she could feel and her mind.


    ''Thank you, my lord.''


    I sent back the mental equivalent of a shoulder-squeeze and headpat.


    "Hey, kids, time to take a seat," Mr. Thrush called. He continued once they''d quieted down a bit. Artoria gingerly exited my mind back into her own. "This is Aaron and he''s a new trainer. I know most of you are eager for your first taste of battling, so I found a trainer to let you get your toes wet."


    "Do you have any dragons?" one boy asked.


    I snorted. Boys would be boys no matter the world. "No, but I have a fairy," I said, gesturing to my kirlia.


    "Eww, fairies are girly."


    "They''re immune to dragon energy, you doofus," a girl retorted before I could say anything back. Not entirely true, but close enough. "They''re better than dragons."


    That was as far as we got before the class devolved into bickering. Mr. Thrush was quick to restore order with a loud clap.


    "Enough! You kids are going to battle Aaron''s kirlia and mareep using the school pok¨¦mon. Extra credit to the one who wins a battle," he called.


    "Can I use my starter?" another boy asked.


    "Ye. If you have one, you can. You should take every chance to get to know your starter."


    I heard a few kids grumble at that. Mom flat out refused to give me Artoria until I was thirteen, but it wasn''t a hard-coded law or anything. It''d be impossible to enforce. A farmer''s son might do his chores with the family growlithe and if said growlithe became his starter, who could say otherwise?


    Although only high scorers could receive a starter from gyms or labs, and there was some prestige attached to getting a starter in this way, not everyone tried for a sponsorship right off the bat like that. Besides the competitiveness, the unfortunate fact was that like most internship opportunities in my old world, sponsors could demand a wide array of tasks in return and those might not fit the desired lifestyle or personal ambition of the trainer. It wasn''t common, but nor was it unheard of for a family to make their own arrangements.


    I remembered being unreasonably jealous of a boy in our class who got to start with his spheal years early because his father was the warden of Shoal Cave''s nature preserve. He, having a spheal bred for combat, absolutely steamrolled our baby zigzagoon in battle class. Literally, given its fondness of Rollout.


    Not that I''d trade Artoria for anything, of course.


    As we led the kids outside, I nudged him. "Was it necessary to place a bounty on me?"


    "No, but your pok¨¦mon look like the sort who''re eager to battle. Besides, only two kids in class have their own starters so everyone else will be using school pok¨¦mon."


    ''I relish the challenge, my lord,'' my kirlia said. She danced forward three steps, her spoon slashing at some invisible enemy. She was practically vibrating with the thought.


    As for Jeanne, she couldn''t care less. Battles were a way for her to "outshine the stars." The opponent wasn''t particularly relevant in that regard so long as they could take a hit and didn''t outclass her abilities completely.


    We were led back to the field from yesterday where we saw the shiftry and sceptile duking it out. Mr. Thrush took the role of the referee and motioned for me to take a side. He then pushed a cart laden with pok¨¦balls to the opposite side. Those contained the school pok¨¦mon, probably fed and placed into their balls less than an hour ago.


    Back in Mossdeep, there was a rotating schedule to allow each class to clean, prep, and fetch the pok¨¦mon from the school corral each week with the goal of exposing us to the ancillary tasks related to being a trainer, such as picking up raccoon shit first thing in the morning. Smart or no, zigzagoons didn''t exactly come with opposable thumbs. I wondered if they did something similar here.


    "Right, so this is how it''s going to work," Mr. Thrush told us. "Aaron will send out one pok¨¦mon, then the other, switching after every battle. Each of you will get a turn with one pok¨¦mon until one of his pok¨¦mon cannot battle. Then Aaron can either choose to keep going with one pok¨¦mon or quit for the day. Am I understood?"


    "Yes, sir," we called as one.


    The first up to bat was a tall girl with thick glasses and straight, blue hair.


    "I have an A already so I don''t need to win for extra credit. I''ll just soften you up for my friends," she said primly. I couldn''t tell if she wanted to brag or was trying to give her classmates an edge. It was cute in that bratty way some children had¡­ which was an admittedly strange thought considering I was only three years her senior. She grasped a pok¨¦ball at random and called, "Go!"


    Out popped a whismur, the so-called whisper pok¨¦mon. It was about two feet tall, the same height as my own pok¨¦mon. It was unexpected, not because whismur were dangerous, not like their evolved forms, but because they were so damn shy. They were called "whisper pok¨¦mon" despite their incredibly developed lungs because they almost never vocalized unless directly threatened.


    "Which one of you wants to-" I started, only for Jeanne to rush off into the field. "That solves that, I guess."


    "She didn''t even let me volunteer,'' I felt my partner pout.


    ''Don''t sulk, Artoria, there are twenty kids in the class. You''re going to be drowning in battles soon enough.''


    ''Very well, I shall let Jeanne have the first spar.''


    Seeing both of us ready, Mr. Thrush opened a pok¨¦ball at his belt, releasing a hefty-looking grumpig. The porcine psychic''s gaze flickered between me and Artoria before nodding in acknowledgement. That it could feel our mental connection indicated a whole lot of experience. It couldn''t listen in, not without us knowing, but the tendril of psychic energy that linked us was evident to any experienced psychic.


    A set of psychic barriers rose up to box the pok¨¦mon in. "Mareep versus whismur, go!"


    I stood back, hands in my pockets, waiting to see what my opponent would do. She looked confident for a student, not that I was all that much better. It''d only been a little under two months since I left home after all.


    "Echo Voice, whismur!"


    "Whiii-WHISMUR!" it roared, sounding for all the world like a jet engine. The whismur was not at all shy about raising its voice, proving that dex stereotypes were rarely reliable.


    Echo Voice was an aura-enhanced blast of sound. As expected of sound, it was stupidly fast. All I saw was a ripple of air tinged vaguely with white before the attack knocked into my mareep. It barely turned her head, but I remembered the general mechanics: Its damage would increase if the move was used consecutively.


    Jeanne retaliated with a sparking Thunder Shock that the whismur barely avoided by hopping to the left.


    I wondered how Echo Voice worked. I could see "increasing damage" if two or more pok¨¦mon used the move simultaneously as sound waves of the same frequency built off each other, but for a single pok¨¦mon to do it? Sound didn''t work that way but pok¨¦mon collectively told physics to get bent on the daily so what did I know?


    ''Still, if it''s sound, wool is good at muffling sound, right?'' I shrugged. It was better than sitting around and letting that whismur get off another Echo Voice for free. "Cotton Spore. Drown it!"


    "Ma-reep!" My sheep let out a bleating battle cry that was more cute than fierce and her wool began to glow with aura. Balls of wool nearly as large as Jeanne flooded the field, flung in the whismur''s general direction.


    I smiled proudly as dozens of woolen balls struck the ground around the whismur. Watching it was like watching the world''s fluffiest mortar barrage. The whismur tried its best to dodge, but a single misstep was enough. The residual static of Jeanne''s wool made it cling like briars.


    "Whismur, no!"


    Unfortunately for her, a whismur lacked the physical strength, or hands, to separate itself from the wool and it soon rolled around on the ground, completely stuck.


    "Finish it with Thunder Shock," I ordered.


    A bolt of electricity arced from Jeanne''s horns and struck the conductive wool. The whismur was still conscious and wriggling, but Mr. Thrush held out his flag. This was par for the course as far as I could remember; most trainers'' school pok¨¦mon weren''t exactly hardened battlers. Forcing it to continue battling after being so thoroughly outmatched would be unnecessarily cruel.


    "Victor, mareep! Rotate!"


    Jeanne ran back to me. She rose on her hind legs to lean on my knees. "Mareep. Reep!" she cheered, her horns and tail glowing a jolly yellow.


    "You were great, Jeanne. Catch your breath and wait, okay?"


    ''I will not keep her waiting long, my lord,'' Artoria said confidently. She walked onto the field at a more sedate pace, her spoon slung over her shoulder.


    My next opponent was a boy who wore a red vest and a straw hat. He had a big, shit-eating grin on his face that reminded me of youthful days. "Ya ready, old dude?"


    "I''m thirteen," I said flatly.


    "That''s old."


    I grunted and waved him off. "Whatever, go ahead and reveal your pok¨¦mon."


    Mom used to say different people threw their pok¨¦balls differently. It wasn''t just that some people tried for actual baseball pitches. Some released their pok¨¦mon close to them. Others nearer to my side of the field as if claiming territory. She once told me that even this initial placement could say a lot about the trainer.


    I had no fucking clue what she was talking about because the boy in front of me flung the thing as high in the air as he could. He wasn''t going for distance, just height, so it at least still landed on his side of the field.


    There was the customary flash of light and out popped Artoria''s opponent: an oddish. I could feel her disappointment. She had already faced a roselia in Mauville before and they were the more "competitive" grass/poison hybrids.


    ''I''m starting to think you''ve been digging around a bit too deep in my memories,'' I chided.


    ''Is it not true?''


    ''Competitive pok¨¦mon knowledge is only sometimes reliable here. Don''t underestimate your opponent because the species was not considered strong in my world. Likewise, don''t overestimate an opponent for the same either. Most would say a gardevoir is a horrible physical attacker, but here you are proving them wrong.''


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    ''As you say, my liege. I apologize for my hasty judgment.''


    Truthfully, an oddish was closer to what I''d expected coming in. Verdanturf was certainly not lacking in the species after all. It was somewhat unusual to see an oddish willing to fight during the day, they generally preferred being active at night, but perhaps the unusually large population of bellossom adjusted their sleeping habits.


    "Are both trainers ready?" Mr. Thrush asked.


    "Yes, sir."


    "Yeah!"


    "Then begin!"


    The boy wasted zero time in calling for the attack. "Acid, oddish!"


    ''Evade,'' I told her. A stream of violet liquid was fired from the oddish''s mouth and Artoria easily sidestepped the attack. The poison type could be problematic, but oddish weren''t exactly known for being too speedy.


    I didn''t think the battle would challenge her, so I decided to impose some restrictions. ''Can you beat it without using Teleport?''


    ''Challenge accepted,'' she replied, our bond flaring with competitive spirit.


    ''No Mana Burst either.''


    "Yes, my lord.''


    Artoria moved like a ballerina, twisting and weaving to a symphony only she could hear. I didn''t even have to give her an order. Then again, I supposed that after dodging electric bolts from Jeanne, a ball of fluid must have looked quite slow in comparison.


    To her credit, she humored the oddish for a time, intentionally refusing to close the gap all the while telling her something.


    All we heard was a series of "Kirlia-kir" and humming, but the oddish looked more determined after each advice.


    I snorted. My kirlia was becoming Uncle Iroh.


    ''Who is this "Uncle Iroh?"''


    ''A brilliant general. A mighty warrior. A wise teacher. He was once stopped by a robber, but instead of defeating the robber physically or allowing himself to be robbed, he took the third option of teaching the robber martial arts, listening to his woes, and showing him a better path through empathy and kindness.''


    ''Then it is an honor to be compared to one like him. I shall endeavor to teach this school''s pok¨¦mon with my spoon of love!''


    ''Haha, you do that, Garp-toria. But remember to make the battles short. We have a lot of students to get through.''


    ''Yes! And¡­ Who is Garp?''


    ''Oh¡­ Later. Go beat up the oddish for now¡­''


    That was it. Artoria blurred forward with a sharp battle cry. Her footsteps lacked the cracking sound of Mana Burst, but I made sure to focus our physical conditioning sessions on stamina and speed. None of us liked running suicides, but the results couldn''t be denied, especially when compared to a normally sluggish oddish.


    "Oddish!" it cried as Artoria beaned it with her spoon. She then scooped the dazed pok¨¦mon with her spoon like a soup dumpling and promptly chucked it off the battlefield.


    "Oddish is out of bounds! Kirlia is the victor! Rotate!"


    That was how we spent our day. We went through two whismur, a taillow, four zigzagoon, and six oddish before my pok¨¦mon were too tired to continue. The matches became much more difficult than that first whismur and oddish as each student took careful notes and tried to do something new to counter our fighting styles. After a while, the kids stopped trying to beat us on their own, working together to drag out each battle as long as possible to tire out my pok¨¦mon. Jeanne bowed out after five pok¨¦mon, leaving eight to Artoria.


    "Alright, that''s enough," Mr. Thrush said when he saw me wave. "I think both the kirlia and mareep are fully tuckered out."


    "Aww, we didn''t get to go," one kid said.


    "Don''t worry, we''ll arrange for other trainers. I have you marked down to go next."


    "Aww¡­"


    Jeanne and Artoria settled down next to me amidst disappointed groans. "You two did great," I told them, ruffing their wool and hair.


    "Mareep," Jeanne said. I wasn''t even sure if that was an actual sentence. She seemed content to just lie on my lap and laze around for a bit.


    ''I could not beat them all,'' Artoria told me. The mental voice was accompanied by disappointment in herself.


    ''You really are your harshest critic,'' I replied. ''You battled eight pok¨¦mon almost back to back. It''s already very impressive.''


    ''They were not very powerful.''


    ''True, but quantity is a quality all its own. And some of those pok¨¦mon weren''t half bad. That taillow gave you some trouble.''


    ''I think the taillow is one of the starters, my lord. His Quick Attack was what forced me to use Mana Burst.''


    ''And he kept up even then. You won by outlasting him.''


    ''I did.''


    ''See? Some of those pok¨¦mon were plenty good. And you lasted long enough to beat eight of them. You did well,'' I soothed. I ran a hand down her back and pulled her to my side. ''No shame in losing, only in not learning from your losses.''


    ''You sound like Lord Jin.''


    ''Heh, yeah, pops does have a lot of fortune cookie sayings.''


    I was drawn out of our conversation when Mr. Thrush walked up to me with an envelope. He held it out to me with a big smile. "That was an impressive showing, Aaron. Thirteen pok¨¦mon in a row is no easy feat."


    "We have a long way to go," I said, rubbing the back of my head.


    "Well, maybe this can help you get there. As promised, 1,300 LC, 100 per pok¨¦mon beaten."


    "Thanks, Mr. Thrush. A pleasure working with you." For an hour or two of work, it was good money.


    "Likewise, kid. I''ll be cheering on your circuit."


    X


    The day of the contest arrived. For once, I didn''t wake up with a soggy lamb shank on my face and my pillow drenched with sweat. Jeanne leapt from bed, going zero to hundred like a lightning bolt.


    "Mareep!" she cried as she raced around our small room in the pok¨¦mon center. "Mareep! Reep!"


    "Good morning to you too, Jeanne," I said as I scratched the back of her neck.


    I gave her a quick once-over. Her wool was a pristine cream color with zero tangles or discolorations. Knowing how important appearances were, I''d spent hours the night prior going through her wool with a special comb I bought in town. Static was awfully useful in a battle, but it also tended to make little bits of detritus cling to her wool every day.


    I held her face in my hands and gave her an affectionate pat. "You look perfect, Jeanne."


    "Mareep!"


    ''Mnnn,'' I heard Artoria groan in my mind.


    I nudged her back affectionately. ''Good morning, Artoria.''


    ''Mnnn¡­''


    ''Time to wake up. You know this is Jeanne''s big day.''


    ''I will support her,'' she swore, ''in a few hours¡­''


    I wondered if I should do anything to rouse her faster, but Jeanne took care of that for me. She hopped onto the bed and made her way to the pillow Artoria was using as her bed. There, she extended a long, pink tongue and licked Artoria from the base of her neck all the way up until she''d rearranged her bangs.


    "KIR!" My partner''s eyes didn''t just open, they bulged out like saucers. She let out a wordless yell of surprise and teleported behind my back. "Kirlia, kir-lia. Liii-kirlia!"


    "Mareeee¡­"


    "Kir!"


    "Maa?"


    "Kirlia!"


    I could feel indignation, embarrassment, disgust, and a bit of anger from the bond, but no more than I felt towards Tate when the little brat borrowed my jacket and left it at school. He found it three days later covered in dirt, grass stains, and some suspicious blue stain I still couldn''t identify.


    Listening to the two yell at each other was like being privy to one half of the conversation, and that only through emotions and charades. Seeing the two bicker like this made me happy. I wanted my team to be like siblings and if there was one truism about siblings it was that no one could piss you off like one. Siblings bickering was as old as time, maybe literally if what I knew about the Primordial Dragons was true.


    Still, I didn''t want things to sour too much so I stepped in. I placed a comforting hand on Artoria''s head and winced as my fingers came back thoroughly slimed. "Okay, enough, you two. Jeanne, licking people awake is not okay."


    "Mareeeeep." I glanced at Artoria and she translated dutifully.


    ''She says her herd used to lick each other all the time. I am not a mareep,'' she huffed. ''Ugh, I think I have some half-chewed grass in my hair.''


    ''Thanks, Artoria. Would you like help washing off?''


    ''Unnecessary, my lord. I will wash myself.''


    She teleported away and I heard the sink in the restroom turn on. I turned back to my mischievous lamb. For all that she seemed innocent, it was all just a fa?ade. She was a genuinely jolly, happy-go-lucky sort, but she also used that to mask how much she enjoys fucking with the two of us.


    "You know you shouldn''t have done that," I chided.


    "Mareep," she bleated, the picture of innocence.


    "It was something you did in the herd?"


    She nodded. "Maa."


    "But you knew you shouldn''t do that. Artoria isn''t a mareep, Jeanne. If you didn''t, you would have done that earlier."


    "Maa¡­"


    "Jeanne, pranking people when they wake up is not okay. Most people don''t like it, especially people like Artoria who wake up very slowly."


    "Maa¡­ reep¡­"


    "You apologize when she comes back, okay?"


    She slumped but nodded resignedly. "Mareep¡­"


    "And don''t do it again."


    "Mareep."


    I leaned down conspiratorially. "But between you and me?"


    "Maa?"


    "It was a little funny," I winked.


    "Reep!"


    "But you lost your plant jerky privileges today."


    "Mareep!"


    "Nope. Doesn''t matter that it was funny. It was also mean."


    "Maa¡­"


    X


    The three of us walked into the contest hall at nine-thirty, a full half hour before the contest was scheduled to begin. I''d worn my best for the day, my hammerspace bag letting me keep a few clothes that weren''t suited for the rigors of the road. I wore a simple, sky-blue dress shirt that I''d made sure to press free of wrinkles and a set of blue-gray slacks. Both the left breast of my shirt and the left pant leg of my slacks had the sigil for Mossdeep Gym and the Fulan-Summers family on it in purple and bronze. Mom had asked that I start wearing things like this whenever I entered an official competition.


    I wished I could say the hall was packed, but I was no liar. This was an amateur''s contest. Most if not all coordinators here will have won a single ribbon, three or four at most, and that won over several years by hobbyists instead of any serious run at the Grand Coordinator title. As far as the public was concerned, no one worth knowing was competing here so the turnout was as mediocre as the competitors. It also meant there weren''t many around to recognize the family emblem.


    They were right about most of us.


    I made a beeline to the exception, a tall woman with salmon-pink hair who leaned casually against one wall. At her side was a slowbro with a purple cape draped around its shoulders. The pok¨¦mon stood a little over four feet tall, shorter than average. But perhaps that size meant it was more nimble? That wasn''t how psychic powers worked, but¡­ shonen logic. Size was directly and inversely correlated with agility.


    I shrugged. It didn''t matter. I''d find out soon enough.


    "Solidad," I called. "Is that your slowbro?"


    She turned and gave me a welcoming smile. "Hello, Aaron, right? Yes, this is Martin. He evolved only three weeks ago and he''s ready to get back onto the circuit so I thought this contest would be the perfect way to introduce ourselves to Hoenn."


    "Nice, I thought he looked a bit smaller. That must be because of the recent evolution."


    "Yes, a slowbro will grow slowly but consistently for about six or seven years after evolution until it reaches its maximum size."


    I nodded along. It was true, but that growth rate varied somewhat between slowbro found in different regions. Those found in Kanto and Johto grew more slowly but reached bigger sizes on average than those found in Kalos for example. And the Galarian subspecies were a whole different ball game with their variant evolutions. "Martin looks very healthy. You must have spent a lot of time researching his diet."


    "Oh, thank you. Do you have a slowbro? Or a slowpoke perhaps? You seem to have an interest in them."


    "Psychics in general interest me, though I''m not limiting myself to just the single type." I gestured to the logo on my chest. "The local psychic gym is my sponsor."


    "Ooh, nice. I might have to pick your brain about them in the future then. Your mareep looks very healthy too."


    "That''s because I spent a few hours cleaning her fur last night," I told her. "Trust me, she''s usually not this clean."


    Jeanne protested by getting on her hind legs and nibbling my fingers. "Mareep!"


    "Ow!"


    "Hehe, a lady has her pride, Aaron," Solidad laughed. She reached down and gave Jeanne a gentle scratch between the horns. "But are you and your mareep going to compete like that?"


    "Hmm? What''s wrong with her?"


    "Nothing, but a lot of trainers like to dress up their pok¨¦mon," she said, pointing to Martin''s cloak. "It''s not necessary, but it can help if the costume fits the theme of the act."


    "Ah, I see. I guess I was so focused on the routine that I didn''t think about a costume."


    Jeanne looked up at me with wide eyes. "Mareep?"


    "Sorry, girl. It''s too late now. Next time?"


    "Ree¡­"


    Solidad looked at us and dug in her purse for a moment. "Here, how about this?" In her hand was a purple bow with a pair of thin braids that ended in white pompoms. She knelt down and tied it around Jeanne''s neck. "I bought it because I thought it''d go well with Martin''s cape but decided against it. Would you like to have it? The color is close enough to your emblem''s that it should fit."


    I looked at my pok¨¦mon before taking out my Pok¨¦Nav and snapping off a picture. I turned it around so Jeanne could see the screen. "Here, girl, what do you think? Like it?"


    "Mareep? Mareep!" she bleated out a cheer before running around in circles.


    "Thank you, I think she really likes it."


    "You''re welcome. Coordinators should look after each other. It''s my pleasure to help."


    Soon enough, we were called into the waiting room so one of the contest hall workers could go over the orientation with us. We were all asked to return our pok¨¦mon, much to Artoria and Jeanne''s grumbling.


    The attendant wore a maroon pencil skirt and white collared shirt with a vest that matched her skirt. On the breast of her vest was the contest hall logo. She clapped her hands to get everyone''s attention.


    "Right then, let''s begin. Coordinators, as I know that several of you are new to the scene, I will go over the rules with you. The contest is divided into two rounds: appeal and battle. During the appeal round, every coordinator and partner will have the chance to go up on stage for five minutes to impress the judges. You can do anything you want, but know that the judges are scoring for beauty, coordination, skill, and of course, audience appeal. Each judge has ten points to award for a total maximum of thirty.


    "There are fifteen coordinators today. Of you all, only the top four will move on to the battle round. In the battle round, two coordinators will face off against each other. Here, you will be scored on your ability to gracefully control the pace of combat. It is possible to win the battle but still lose the round. Any questions?"


    One of the other coordinators, a girl with a pikachu on her shoulder, raised her hand. "Yes Miss, how are we deciding who goes first for the appeals round?"


    "The most veteran coordinators sorted by number of ribbons and years active will be permitted to go first."


    There were quite a few grumbles at that. It meant Solidad was naturally first, but I recognized it for what it was: The contest circuit clearly didn''t mind placing a handicap on veterans. It was natural for a person to fixate on what they saw last and if there should be a tie in points, the one who went earlier would likely fade from memory.


    After a few more questions, we ran out of time and another attendant called Solidad to the stage.


    "Wish me luck," she said.


    "Nope. No luck. Skill. Go kill them all."


    "Pfftt, you have a way with words."


    "Yup. Have fun," I waved her on.


    Author''s Note


    Wool is an excellent sound dampener. It''s visco-elastic properties help convert sound to heat dispersing noise. And no, I didn''t know what that meant until I looked it up. More you know¡­


    Did you know an oddish has a better base stat total than a kirlia? It''s true, and not just by a little, a full 42 points. Yeah, it isn''t important, but I just thought it was super weird.


    Thank you for reading. To reach a wider audience, and because I enjoy a more forum-like setup to facilitate discussion, I like to crosspost to a wide variety of websites. You can find them all on my Link Tree: https://linktr.ee/fabled.webs.</a>

 2.6 Salad

    Salad 2.6


    Aaron Fulan


    Verdanturf Town, Hoenn Region


    I lounged back in the waiting room and watched as Solidad took the stage. I was admittedly very curious about her. I knew that in the anime, she and Brock were childhood friends from back when he was still the Pewter Gym Leader. I also knew that some time prior to canon, she would go on to win the Kanto Grand Festival. That she was allowed in a normal contest here proved she hadn''t yet, but regardless, she was a talented coordinator, and I didn''t doubt that she was the woman to beat here.


    Truthfully, I wasn''t sure if I should feel intimidated or honored to watch her rise to fame. It was the equivalent of knowing Taylor Swift or Beyonce before they became stars, a personal insight into their destiny. I felt the same way with Lisia in Slateport, but I at least wasn''t competing against her.


    Just as interesting were the emotional responses I could see in my fellow competitors. Most were about my age, perhaps a year older, so we were all feeling the butterflies. Some hid it better than others, and I made sure to take note of those as the more likely to pass the appeals round. There was also a decent amount of envy or lust there too; Solidad was a very pretty girl after all, and she carried herself with elegance born of experience.


    On the other side of the room, I saw Drew studying Solidad intently. Like myself, he seemed to have committed himself to studying her performance, not purely for the aesthetic value, but likely to see what there might be to gain from watching a more experienced coordinator perform.


    I nodded. As annoying as I found him, it was good to see that he took his dream seriously. I could respect that.


    "Welcome, one and all, to Verdanturf''s normal-rank contest!" shouted the emcee, a pretty blonde with wide-rim glasses that brought out her hazel eyes. She''d introduced herself as Clara Royce, a popular radio host who covered the pok¨¦mon racing circuit, not that I recognized her. "Now, let''s jump right into things. First, let me introduce the judges. From left to right, we have Chief Rubin of the Verdanturf Police Department, Head Nurse Westfield from the pok¨¦mon center, and a retired hyper-rank coordinator, Mr. Evans!"


    The crowd cheered at that. Some of the coordinators perked up in recognition at the final name. He was apparently a fairly recognizable figure in the town.


    "Now to the appeals round. Our first coordinator hails all the way from Pewter City in Kanto. She''s done a tour of Kanto and Sinnoh and intends to make a splash on the circuit with a fresh start here. Put your hands together for Solidad Saori!"


    More applause. That was the cue for Solidad to throw out her pok¨¦ball. "Take the stage, Martin!"


    Martin the slowbro was summoned to the very center of the chalk pok¨¦ball. He immediately let out a loud Yawn. From his nose blew a large, pink bubble of psychic energy that clung to his nostril for a second before floating into the air.


    "Martin," Solidad mock-chided, "we''re supposed to put on a show, not put them to sleep!" That drew several laughs from the audience, though perhaps not as much as she would have preferred. She hadn''t struck me as the comedic type; I wondered if this was a new act they were trying.


    The psychic bubble rose into the air and popped, showering the stage with a small rain of purple lights. "Fine, have it your way. Yawn again!"


    Martin took that as his cue to make another bubble. And another. And another. Soon, there were six in the air, all held in place by the slowbro''s psychic power. Then, the slowbro made a tugging motion with his paw and the bubbles sank a bit.


    A glow of psychic aura enveloped him before he raised his paws in the air in a grabbing motion. The slowbro rose into the air, as though pulled into the sky by the floating balloons.


    Solidad let out an exaggerated sigh and palmed her face. "That''s Martin everyone, always with his head in the clouds. Backstage."


    She recalled her slowbro and took a bow, first towards the audience, then to the judges, before rising and awaiting their feedback.


    The police chief spoke first, holding out a nine. "An excellent show of psychic control."


    Then the nurse held out her ten. "I agree. It was an excellent performance, especially from a slowbro so recently evolved. You can tell by how the shell on his tail has such pristine spikes, not worn down with time. A month¡­ no, three weeks ago?"


    Solidad bowed again. "Yes, ma''am. Martin evolved three weeks ago, a bit before I came to Hoenn."


    "Well, we''re delighted to have such a creative coordinator. Although, I felt your comedy fell a little flat."


    The retired coordinator, Evans, commented. "I don''t disagree that the commentary was the weakest part of the routine, but it wasn''t supposed to be a highlight of the routine, just add a bit of dry humor. It''s fine, but nothing spectacular.


    "Overall, I found the whole thing quite refreshing. So many new coordinators try to copy Wallace with a water type, and to be fair, the man is worth learning from, but seeing a glorified fountain for the fourth time in a contest can admittedly get a bit stale. No, the best part of your routine wasn''t just that it showed off your young slowbro''s marvelous control, but that it was completely original. That''s harder than most might expect. Eight points."


    Miss Royce took over. "Wow, give it up for Solidad! She starts off the contest with a strong twenty-seven. Think anyone can top that? Let''s find out with our next contestant!"


    I could literally see the emotions of the contestants uplift. Solidad''s performance wasn''t particularly flashy and her attempt at comedy fell a little flat, so they thought they judges were being generous with points. I shook my head. It would have been nice if that were the case, but I doubted it.


    Yawn wasn''t a persistent attack; it was just a bubble of aura that induced sleep. It popped in seconds and wasn''t meant to be maintained for long. Most of all, it was extremely delicate.


    Martin had maintained six of them at the same time, encasing them with psychic energy without popping them. He had then lifted his own bulk and coordinated his rise to give the image of being carried off by a bundle of balloons. Coordination. Power. Finesse. He showed that he had it all. It was the kind of thing even one of mom''s gym trainers would have been impressed by.


    The judges weren''t easy; Solidad was deceptively good.


    And sure enough, the second coordinator, a girl with a flareon, managed a lackluster twenty-two points. The third an eighteen. The fourth a ten. I made a note to never try to make a shroomish tap dance.


    After that, no one got higher than a sixteen and I laughed as I saw the mood in the room visibly plummet. Sure, I was in the same boat, but I was also the only one who could see everyone else''s undisguised reaction. Besides, I didn''t need to beat Solidad; I just needed to beat number four.


    Things progressed in this manner until only Drew and I, completely new to the circuit, were left.


    "Next, please welcome Drew Greenwald and budew!" the emcee called.


    Drew Greenwald, I didn''t know that was his last name, stood on stage with a confident grin. He had an excellent poker face for a kid; I might have bought it had I not seen the turmoil of emotions around him in the waiting room. Still, he held himself well and I could see the three judges paying him a bit more attention due to his composure compared to the last few contestants.


    He tossed budew''s pok¨¦ball a few times in his hand before sending it off on a low, underarm throw to center stage. "The stage is yours, budew," he called.


    Everything he did was supposed to bring to mind a man of casual confidence. Unfortunately, though Drew himself was great at hiding his nervousness, his budew was not. It appeared on stage with the customary cry of its own name, landing on its stubby, root-like feet. Then it saw the audience and the spotlights trained on her and developed an acute sense of stage fright. With dozens of eyes on it, it could do little more than shiver in place.


    "B-Budew?" it asked as it turned to its trainer. I''d never seen a grass type look so mechanical before.


    A rapid-fire set of emotions warred across his face as the camera zoomed in on the trainer. He swallowed thickly and got a hold of himself, speaking reassuringly. "Just as we practiced, budew. Ignore the rest and follow my voice."


    "Budew¡­ bud!"


    "Now, powder rainbow!"


    The budew began to spin in place and let out three different clouds of powder. Though its movements were stilted and reminiscent of a wooden puppet rather than a dancer, it did get through the full routine. I could identify the gold of Stun Spore, violet of Poison Powder, and emerald of Sleep Powder. Rather than mix into a ruddy brown, the clouds formed separate layers that clung to the air for a minute.


    If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    The budew then let out a happy cry, its confidence having returned, and began to fire a spray of water into the air that refracted the light. The light struck the powders and cast a rainbow into the sky that captivated the audience for several seconds before the powders settled back to the earth.


    "Marvelous, Drew," the nurse spoke. "It''s always a pleasure to see young trainers encourage their pok¨¦mon and their pok¨¦mon respond in kind. The show itself was good too of course. That''s a seven from me."


    "Six," the police chief said. "While I agree with her that you handled it well, that encouragement shouldn''t have been necessary in the first place. I trust you and budew will both improve and merit higher ratings in the future."


    The retired coordinator let out a small yawn. He''d been the hardest to impress by far. "Four. Your budew lacks confidence but that was already touched on by my co-judges so let''s talk about the performance itself. Using powders to wow the audience is very basic and something almost every grass type coordinator does at one point or another. For a young pok¨¦mon like budew, it was a good option. Or, I suspect, the only option you had.


    "But it''s because the routine is so basic that you need more flair and finesse to stand out. All you did was layer the powders together, hope they don''t blend, and then use Life Dew to make a rainbow effect. It''s pretty to look at, but demonstrated very little of the skill I''d expect from a well-trained pok¨¦mon. You''ll have far more options as budew grows, but for now, I''m not sure you cut it."


    Drew hung his head, unable to refute the criticism. "Thank you for your advice, judges."


    Miss Royce took over for the judges. "Thank you judges for both the encouragement and brutal honesty. Now with seventeen points, Drew is in fourth place with only one last contestant. Can he keep his ticket to the next round? Let''s find out. Please welcome, Aaron Fulan!"


    I stood. That was my cue. I palmed Jeanne''s ball and felt it vibrate with excitement. We were in agreement. My appearance raised a few eyebrows from the judges and those who recognized my surname but I paid them no mind. Drew was right about one thing: They didn''t matter. The only thing worth my attention right now was Jeanne.


    I held out her pok¨¦ball in front of me and pressed the release button. You could aim the beam more accurately while it was in your hand so why did people insist on throwing it? I grinned as Jeanne appeared center stage. "Let''s light ''em up, Jeanne."


    Where I tried to appear cool and collected, a necessity to rep my gym, she had no trouble providing enough enthusiasm for both of us. "MAREEP!" she bleated, both forelimbs aimed at the sky in an adorable Y-pose. Her stubby horns and tail glowed a brilliant yellow and the violet bow pinned to her head caught the light beautifully. I could already see some of the audience coo at her.


    "Terrain!" I ordered.


    "Mareep!" The electricity she''d been storing in her horns and tail traveled to her hooves with an audible crackle. She brought them down and a shower of sparks erupted from the ground. A yellow field of supercharged earth spread out from her in all directions.


    "Now, let''s really show them a light show. Chain lightning!"


    "Maareep!" With another cheery bleat, she let loose a dozen large Cotton Spores. It took a lot of work to get her to cut down on the quantity in favor of size and seeing the fruits of our labor brought a smile to my face.


    The spores hung in the air like balloons, slowly sinking down to the ground. Before they could, electric charges from the terrain rose up into the air and met the oppositely charged wool, creating a cage-like effect around the mareep.


    My excitable lamb then tossed out several Thunder Shocks, each traveling to the closest one before the static took over. The charge then knocked the woolen ball further into the sky, breaking the ground-to-air lightning that seemed to tether them in place. As the ball drew near to another, the charge hopped to the next, then the next, creating a dazzling display of lights that reminded me of tesla coils.


    I watched with a mixture of pride and genuine bafflement. I wondered how any of this was possible. Everything I knew about electricity from my past life said this wasn''t how it worked. Wool didn''t float like a balloon. Electricity didn''t travel like that. And yet, somehow, with a healthy dose of encouragement and training, my little lamb told physics to go fuck itself.


    I let out a low whistle. She got the cue and stopped firing Thunder Shocks, allowing the sparking wool to slowly sink to the ground. She rose on her hind legs again and, as the balls touched the terrain and erupted into a final shower of sparks, the two of us took a bow towards the audience.


    Jeanne, excitable as ever, ran over to my side and nuzzled into my leg. I winced as a jolt of static ran through my leg but remembered to bow to the judges as well. I''d have to coach her to do that in the future. I already had, but it seemed she forgot courtesy in her excitement.


    The crowd filled the stage with applause and I gently nudged Jeanne to turn and face the judges while we waited our evaluation.


    "That was positively dazzling," the nurse gushed, holding out a nine, but she''d been the most generous with her points so far so I held my breath. "What a wonderful way to close the appeals round! Your mareep not only knows a rare move, but her enthusiasm was electrifying."


    I laughed politely, though it probably sounded a little wooden. It seemed I''d never escape electricity puns even without Wattson. The crowd seemed to eat it up though.


    "It was a good show," the police chief agreed as he lifted a seven. "The lights, the sounds, and of course the sheer enthusiasm of your mareep were all delightful to see. I think your pok¨¦mon has a lot of potential, but I noticed that one of the balls didn''t land in the Electric Terrain. Points off for that. A bit less enthusiasm and a bit more finesse perhaps."


    I nodded. No matter, a single ball out of line was much better than she had managed just a week ago. Considering this was her first contest, my mareep''s performance was more than satisfactory. Jeanne really did love the stage.


    The retired coordinator looked at my mareep, then back at me. He nodded as he too held out a seven. "Not bad. Not amazing, but you''ve got a lot of potential, kid. You knew the Electric Terrain couldn''t cover much ground so you spent all your time trying to focus the spread of Cotton Spore, right?"


    I nodded. "Yes, sir. I found out about the tesla coil effect her wool balls have and decided to make it the highlight of our routine."


    "You thought right. Although, I will say that the weakest point of your performance was you, the trainer. You thought carefully about the limitations of your pok¨¦mon. You even planned out your routine and set the Electric Terrain first for a great finisher. All that''s great, but your own stage presence was lacking."


    "I felt I should represent my sponsor well. Knowing her, she favors discipline and composure above dramatics."


    "Yeah, that sounds like her. But that clashes with your own pok¨¦mon''s enthusiasm. Find a way to mesh the two together. Otherwise, good job."


    "Thank you for your advice, sir," I said. I''d watched everyone else get reamed on camera, but it was hard to stand here and take criticism. He wasn''t wrong. Just because mom wasn''t the emoting type didn''t mean I had to be like her. Truthfully, I doubted she''d care if I took on a more bombastic personality for contests. Perhaps I could take after dad instead? He and his clefable, Astro, were far more personable. It was something I''d keep in mind.


    "And with that the appeals round is over," the emcee shouted. She pointed to the scoreboard. "Solidad remains first with twenty-seven points, but our last contestant Aaron takes second with twenty-three, unseating Kayla with twenty-two and Vincent with eighteen. Please put your hands together for these final four!"


    I grinned ear to ear as I walked back into the waiting room. There were only the four of us remaining as the organizers had called for an intermission for the audience. Kayla and Vincent were both young-ish, around my age if not a year or two older. I vaguely remembered them.


    Kayla had a flareon of all things and had gotten an incredible edge from the start thanks to the rare and adorable eeveelution. It was a truism that rarer and more conventionally attractive pok¨¦mon tended to receive better reviews, though it was far from the defining factor at higher ranks. Her flareon was decently well trained, showing off with a spray of Ember before nailing them all with swift, precise movements using Quick Attack. She''d received high praise from the police chief for her mastery of the fundamentals, even if the routine wasn''t particularly creative.


    Vincent''s pok¨¦mon was the much more mundane skitty. It used a combination of Sing and Charm to draw in the audience while Vincent played the guitar. The song, a popular one sung by local farmers to make the workday go by faster, did as much to add to the performance as Vincent''s guitar. He received a lot of points from the retired coordinator for his ability to read his audience.


    I grinned as I saw the matchups: First versus third, second versus fourth. That was the best possible outcome for me. I didn''t think Jeanne could fight a fully evolved pok¨¦mon and win. This way, I at least had a shot of making it to the finals.


    "That was a good show you put on," Solidad said as she came to stand beside me. "The Cotton Spore was especially creative. I didn''t know mareep wool did that."


    "Thanks, I liked your Mary Poppins act too."


    "Who?"


    I winced. There was no Mary Poppins here. Solidad was easy to talk to, so I let it slip without thinking. "A children''s book. Mary Poppins is a magical nanny whose schtick was her floating along with the wind on an umbrella. Your slowbro reminded me of the story. It was a compliment."


    "Thank you," she smiled gently. "I''m glad our routine brought out some good memories for you. I think I''ll work on my delivery for next time though. The judges were right; I did sound a little flat."


    "And thank you for the bow. Jeanne looked adorable with it."


    "She doesn''t need any help from me there."


    "Maybe, but it''s a good lesson for me too. The contest is as much about me as it is about Jeanne. I''ll have to put more effort into my stage presence next time. Maybe match wear something to match her outfit."


    "Yeah, it can be a challenge to come up with something."


    X


    The battle round began after an hour of intermission. Vincent and I sat around in the waiting room while Solidad and Kayla duked it out. I''d say it was disappointing, but that implied I had any expectations at all. Not only was Solidad the more experienced trainer, she also had a type advantage to abuse. The outcome of the battle was never in question and I could see it on Kayla''s face as she walked on stage that she knew it as well.


    She gave her best effort regardless. Her flareon seemed to know quite a few moves from its time as an eevee and so she was able to put forth a decent showing using Swift, Quick Attack, and Bite. By using Ember and Martin the slowbro''s Water Gun to generate steam, she was able to dash in for a super-effective Bite.


    I saw the judges take away some of Solidad''s points on the screen as a result.


    That was the only hit she managed because then Solidad began to take her seriously. The flareon''s next attempt at replicating the same trick fell flat when Martin used a focused Rain Dance to douse the Embers without generating much steam. He then used Slack Off to recover, seemingly leaving himself with an opening, but when the flareon tried to capitalize on it with another Bite, he Disabled it an inch away from himself.


    After luring the flareon up close, a sharp Zen Headbutt ended the match.


    I glanced up at the screen showing both coordinators'' profiles. Solidad had eighty points remaining, having lost some thanks to her defensive battling style. I nodded. Countering the opponent''s technique to look good was one thing, but it seemed like if I wanted to protect my own points, aggression would be the best bet. Much like kendo, really.


    "Ooh, what a decisive Zen Headbutt from Solidad and slowbro. With that, let''s jump right in to the second match, Aaron and Vincent, please take the stage!"


    Author''s Note


    Contests are hard. Why did I make Jeanne a diva again? Oh, right, the "Praise the sun" meme¡­ Fuck¡­


    Thank you for reading. To reach a wider audience, and because I enjoy a more forum-like setup to facilitate discussion, I like to crosspost to a wide variety of websites. You can find them all on my Link Tree: https://linktr.ee/fabled.webs.</a>

 2.7 Salad

    Salad 2.7


    Aaron Fulan


    Verdanturf Town, Hoenn Region


    I stood across from Vincent and offered him a respectful nod. He was a tall boy with tanned skin, broad shoulders, thick arms, and a bit of a paunch. It spoke of someone who was used to physical chores but did not actively go out of his way to build an athletic physique. On his back was the guitar he''d played during his routine.


    Off in the stands, I could see several people who looked like they could be his family. They came to cheer him on and the child in me felt an unreasonable pang of envy at that.


    It was a pity I''d have to disappoint them.


    "Coordinators, are you ready?" the blonde emcee said. A normal-rank contest wasn''t big enough to warrant a referee apparently, because she doubled as both the ref and announcer.


    "Yes, ma''am," we replied in concert.


    "Then begin!"


    I held out Jeanne''s pok¨¦ball as Vincent tossed his.


    "Light ''em up, Jeanne."


    "Go, skitty!"


    The two of us gauged our respective pok¨¦mon. I also spared a glance at my counterpart. Vincent honestly looked thrilled to be here, as though he hadn''t expected to make it this far. On his face was a countenance of determination and excitement.


    I wondered briefly what he saw on mine. Then the thought evaporated as my gaze flickered back to the field.


    The two pok¨¦mon were like night and day. The skitty entered the field with an adorable playfulness that made the crowd lean forward to see more. It wasn''t hard to see why the species was so popular as pets. They were cute, fluffy, easy to tame, and had a naturally playful disposition that seemed universally appealing.


    Jeanne on the other hand was downright threatening by comparison, or as threatening as a lamb could be. It was plainly obvious to me that this contest just meant more to her. Horns and tail glowing, wool sparking with unshed electricity, she immediately began building a charge without a single word of input from me.


    Whenever she wasn''t refining her routine, she had spent weeks practicing to develop her internal electricity reserves by holding Charge for as long as possible. Whenever she wasn''t doing that, she was undergoing grueling physical conditioning. And whenever she wasn''t doing that, she was sparring against Artoria, the single most dedicated training-nut I''d ever seen.


    Jeanne was taught that every second, every breath, counted in a battle. If no command was forthcoming, she was to prepare herself, all the better to shine even brighter. Her approach to battle was just far too different compared to the skitty''s more lackadaisical attitude.


    I nodded with approval. I didn''t see this battle taking long. "Electric Terrain."


    She stamped her feet, letting off that charge in a small circle of electrified ground. That would be my timer. I wanted to finish this as soon as possible. I did promise aggression after all.


    "Skitty, Sing!" Vincent yelled.


    I grinned. I had hoped he might go for that strategy first. Why wouldn''t he? Putting your opponent to sleep was a decisive way to end a battle, one that normally left absolutely zero room for counterplay. This wasn''t a game limited in its programming for the sake of balance; Sing did not have an "accuracy rating" that was barely better than a coin flip. You could resist, it was easier depending on how well-rested you were, but just hearing the song made the listener lethargic.


    Unless you happened to be behind a psychic barrier, escaping the move entirely was challenging even to elite pok¨¦mon.


    And yet, it meant nothing.


    Electric Terrain was not a move that was seen often, not because it was difficult, or it would have been beyond Jeanne''s abilities in the first place, but because it ran so counter to the fighting style favored by most electric types: speed. Electric types were some of the fastest pok¨¦mon around and the idea of grounding themselves, limiting their available battlefield, rubbed most of them the wrong way.


    Powerful electric types, such as Volkner''s luxray over in Sinnoh, employed the technique, but that was because they were strong enough to expand the radius of the move, giving them more land to play in.


    It made sense then that trainers at my level weren''t familiar with the move. Vincent, and likely the majority of the crowd, knew only what they''d observed from Jeanne''s routine, namely that it created a static field of some sort and that it likely empowered electric type moves.


    Electric Terrain had a different, more esoteric benefit: So long as a pok¨¦mon remained grounded, they could not fall asleep. Even self-induced moves like Rest would fail because the ambient electricity constantly stimulated the nerves of everyone on the ground.


    Skitty sang and Jeanne allowed the sound to wash over her with a happy wobble. She even started to bleat her own harmony to the song.


    I let it continue for a few seconds to make it clear to the jduges that the move wouldn''t work. "Thunder Shock. Barrage."


    Both the skitty and its trainer''s eyes widened as a salvo of eight bolts lanced towards them. Electric type attacks were notorious for being fast-traveling and Jeanne''s were no exception. Much like the cats the skitty reminded me of, it proved incredibly nimble, managing to dodge six, skipping and twisting in midair with the grace an acrobat would have envied.


    Then, when it had somehow managed to turn a summersault into a full twist, it misjudged the timing and ate a Thunder Shock to the face. It was then unable to react to the eighth that caught it across the chest, sending it rolling like a ragdoll along the dirt. The acrid smell of singed fur filled the air.


    I allowed myself a small smile as Vincent''s counter diminished noticeably. Had Jeanne missed the full salvo and had the skitty stuck the landing with grace, I would have been the one who lost points, but not only did his initial strategy not work, he couldn''t evade my follow-through.


    "Hang in there, skitty," Vincent called, voice layered with desperation.


    "Skiii¡­"


    "Payback!"


    The skitty glowed with power as it rushed forward. I was surprised to see that it wasn''t the darkness I expected, but a pure, untainted white. It caught me off guard and delayed me from shouting an order in response.


    Jeanne, who had gone straight back to using Charge, tried to keep the agile kitten at bay with another salvo of Thunder Shocks. It had more luck this time and managed to dodge everything now that it knew what to expect.


    "Cotton Spore!" I barked, but the order came too late to keep the skitty from closing the gap.


    Jeanne covered the skitty in wool but that wasn''t enough to stop its momentum. The skitty still managed to land Payback, though some of the impact was blunted.


    "Mareep!" she cried as she flew threw the air.


    I realized long after that it was Normalize at work; the unique ability of the skitty line to turn every typed attack into one without. In the game, it made delcatty a slightly less useless option competitively. For example, using a normal type Thunder Wave to paralyze an unsuspecting ground type was a fun gimmick I used to play around with.


    In real life, knowing what I knew about aura and the difficulties most pok¨¦mon had with customizing movesets, seeing Normalize in action made me consider finding a skitty of my own.


    How did that work? Could they learn to disrupt and disperse incoming "colored" aura as well? Or could they add types as well as remove them to make different elemental variations of their moves? Those things sounded like a TM creator''s wet dream¡­


    I shook my head violently. This wasn''t the time to get into theorizing. "Jeanne, Flash!"


    She rolled along the ground, her wool taking the brunt of the attack, and hopped to her feet. Even with Normalize, the skitty was clearly no battler and its lackluster Payback couldn''t compare to a Mana Edge from Artoria. Jeanne''s horns glowed bright and she let out a determined battle cry, filling the stage with a painfully bright light. "Maa-REEP!"


    The skitty, like all felines had exceptionally sensitive eyes, making Flash a very effective strategy.


    "No! Skitty!"


    I didn''t give him the chance to respond. This match was closer than I wanted it to be. "Close in. Tackle!"


    Before my sheep could ram into her target, a beam of light struck the blinded skitty, recalling her. The referee took that as the forfeit. "And with that the second battle of the battle round is over! Please give it up for our finalists, Solidad Saori and Aaron Fulan!"


    I motioned for Jeanne to return to my side and gave her a good scritch behind her ears before balling her and walking to the center of the field. There, I offered Vincent a handshake. "Good match," I told him.


    "Yeah, I don''t think the little one''s big on fighting. I''m surprised I got this far to tell you the truth," he grumbled goodnaturedly. His hands were calloused and he had a bit of a countryside accent now that I heard more than a word or two from him at once.


    "Honestly? I don''t think I''m winning this either."


    "Heh, no offense, but I agree. Second''s still pretty darn cool though."


    "True. I''m happy with where I am today."


    "And with that we''ll enjoy another short intermission while Aaron and his mareep recover," Royce said over the crowd.


    I walked back into the waiting room and placed Jeanne''s pok¨¦ball into the care of an on-site nurse and her chansey. They, like many of the staff here today, were volunteers. Or maybe they''d been volun-told; the head nurse at the nearest pok¨¦mon center was a judge after all. The nurse returned my mareep to me after a quick, ten-minute checkup thanks both to the wonderful medical technology of this world and Jeanne''s own hardiness.


    The waiting room felt strangely empty with only two people. I felt Solidad approach.


    "Congratulations, Aaron. It''s a big deal to enter the finals on your first contest," she said earnestly.


    Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.


    "It''s just fifteen people, Solidad," I said. "Nowhere near as competitive as a higher rank contest."


    "Maybe, but it''s still a noteworthy feat. Normal-rank contests might not be as competitive, but these are the contests where coordinators find their stride. It''s impressive to see that you''ve already found yours."


    "Thanks, that means a lot coming from you." I meant it; she was a Grand Coordinator-to-be after all. Perhaps she didn''t have a lofty title now, but that raw talent was there. It felt good, being recognized by someone I knew had such potential.


    "So¡­ Mossdeep Gym, huh?"


    "Yup. Like I said, local psychics."


    "I asked around because I was curious. I don''t know enough about Hoenn to recognize any logos by sight. What''s it like?"


    "Being sponsored or being the son of a gym leader?"


    "Yes," she said with a wan smile. "I have a friend who is the head of Pewter Gym, but his family situation¡­ could be better."


    "Huh, I would have thought you had your own. Sponsor, I mean. You''re certainly talented enough."


    She laughed, though it came off a little lifeless. "I wish. I tried to obtain a sponsorship from my hometown, but Pewter isn''t big on contests. Nowhere in Kanto is, really. Contests exist, but coordinators don''t have nearly the prestige they do in other regions. The sport is becoming more popular, but it''s still a work in progress."


    "You sound like you''re not a fan of Pewter."


    "I am, don''t get me wrong. Pewter City is gorgeous in a very rugged sort of way. It''s sandwiched between Viridian Forest and Mt. Moon so nature is never far if you''re feeling a bit cooped up. But it''s the ''gateway gym'' if you know what I mean."


    "The gym that most trainers challenge first?"


    "Yeah. I guess, because it''s so important to the League, battling takes precedent and other pok¨¦mon-related sports fall to the wayside. Leader Flint wasn''t interested in sponsoring me over a traditional trainer and when my friend Brock took over¡­ He had his own worries and couldn''t spare the money or clout on a coordinator. The only other major organization that might have the money would be the Pewter City Museum of Geology and well¡­"


    "No rock types."


    "Not at the moment," she sighed.


    I understood, not from this life, but from my old one. Neither HEMA nor kendo were popular sports compared to football or basketball in the States. Getting a sponsorship to compete in Japan, even as a sixth-dan master, wasn''t easy.


    In Solidad''s case, she was a young woman who was born with incredible talent, but to a place completely uninterested in nurturing said talent. Throw in the difficulties of raising nine other siblings and I could see why she didn''t want to approach Brock, childhood friend or no.


    I felt for her.


    "Well, this might just sound like entitled bitching from your perspective," I started, making her snort with surprise at the crass language, "but being sponsored isn''t all it''s cracked up to be."


    "How so?"


    "For starters, mom''s really big on not giving me any handouts."


    "I''d heard she''s very strict. I take it that''s not just a persona she puts on for challengers then?"


    "Definitely not," I snorted. "Sharon Fulan, Oracle of Mossdeep, strongest psychic in Hoenn, maybe the world. She straight up told me she''d make me take a civilian job if I failed my TLE, no second chances."


    "You know you can retake those, right?"


    "Not if your family is one of the most influential in the region. Having to take it again for any reason short of a near-death experience would tarnish my family image. Pass or fail, sink or swim, it''s always been like that with mom."


    "Wow, I guess having a long family legacy comes with its own hardships."


    "Yup. Grass is always greener and all that. As for the sponsorship itself, that reflects her parenting style too. 3,000 LC per month at the start, which is barely enough for gear and potions. The stipend increases significantly with every badge and ribbon to be fair, but that leaves every non-serious trainer in the dust."


    "So there''s a huge pressure to progress then?"


    "That''s her style; either you can cut it as a trainer or you can stop wasting gym resources. Being her son doesn''t get me any additional perks in that regard."


    She winced. "That sounds harsh."


    "Strictly speaking, it''s not an unreasonable payment plan, especially since the first badge is reasonably easy to get. There is always the expectation that we do some odd jobs or win battles consistently; it''s an important part of the journey apparently. We have a bit of a cushion, but not enough to cruise by. The money''s not the main reason to seek a sponsorship anyway. The main benefit of a gym sponsorship is the free or discounted League services. Pok¨¦mon center, ferries, that sort of thing. With her specifically, I can stable psychic pok¨¦mon with her for training and I get access to the gym library."


    "Wow, so you really need to win?"


    I shook my head. "No. Don''t even think about throwing the finals. I don''t need to make the family gym look good by winning, especially since I''m not even competing with a psychic type. I just wanted you to get an idea of what sponsorships might be like."


    "Thank you, Aaron, I appreciate it. So¡­ Psychic training¡­?"


    "Yeah, why? Got anything you want to know?"


    "Well¡­ Martin''s been having some trouble with Reflect and Light Screen¡­"


    I offered her my Pok¨¦Nav. "Gimme."


    "Huh?"


    "Your number. I''ll see if I can pull up an article or two. It won''t be anything phenomenal, mom''s pretty cagey about sharing family secrets from ancestors and whatnot, but the basics handed out to gym trainers should be enough to get you started."


    "You''d do that?"


    "Consider this a thank you for the ribbon."


    She took my Pok¨¦Nav. "I feel like I should be the one thanking you."


    "Then let''s call us even." I offered her a fist bump. "Friends?"


    Her fist met mine. "Friends¡­ But I''m still going to win."


    I let out an undignified snort. "Obviously. Enjoy the easy win while it lasts, because Jeanne will be a whole different pok¨¦mon when we meet again."


    "I''ll look forward to it."


    X


    We lost as expected. I stood on the side of the stage and clapped politely as Miss Royce presented Solidad with her ribbon. I wished I could say Jeanne and I gave her a good battle, but that''d be a lie. I knew psychic types. Jeanne had a type advantage against the slowbro. But this wasn''t an anime and I wasn''t Ash. Even with those advantages, there was ultimately little Jeanne could do to match a fully evolved pok¨¦mon as she was now with only two weeks of training.


    We started with Electric Terrain, if only so we could shut down Yawn. Then, after stacking Charge on top of the Terrain, Jeanne let loose a Thunder Shock as powerful as a Thunderbolt. Solidad let it happen as a courtesy to me before Martin grabbed the attack in midair and twisted it around against her like Sabrina did to Ash in Saffron.


    It wasn''t meant to be particularly damaging. Electricity meant little to a mareep, especially when it had lost some residual energy and the mareep was fully grounded. A direct psychic attack would hurt more than taking control of a projectile, which was why it wasn''t done often even by powerful psychics. It was a flex, plain and simple.


    Cotton Spore did nothing; slowbro weren''t exactly known for their speed anyway. Martin didn''t care no matter how many spores clung to him.


    All we could do from that point was run around and Tackle the slowbro, nudging him here and there but ultimately failing to do any real damage. In the end, Jeanne tuckered herself out and I bowed out of the contest.


    I knew the loss was coming, but the loss still left a bitter taste in my mouth.


    I bid Solidad a final congratulations and stepped out of the contest hall with a frustrated sigh. We had so much work to do, but the loss gave me some perspective. If someone like Solidad was still going through normal-rank contests, how strong was Wallace?


    I walked back to my room in the pok¨¦mon center with newfound respect for the contest circuit. The vibration of my Pok¨¦Nav dragged me from my melancholy. It was the twins, checking in through the chatroom.


    Mossdeep_Moon: Sorry you lost, bro.


    Mossdeep_Sun: Yeah, you''ll do better next time. Second place is pretty cool though.


    Mossdeep_Moon: That slowbro was really strong though.


    Sir_Aaron: Thanks, yeah, Solidad''s a great trainer. I think she''s going to get really far this circuit.


    Mossdeep_Moon: Mom says you were great.


    Sir_Aaron: O.o Did she?


    Mossdeep_Moon: Well¡­ She said, "His growth is sufficient," which is basically gushing for her. Oh, and dad says hi too.


    Mossdeep_Sun: Are you going to participate in other contests?


    XO-CloudDancer-OX: Woah, wait, you finished second? How do you guys know? The recording hasn''t been posted online yet.


    Sir_Aaron: They''re practicing divination and they''re really good at it. Future is cloudy but the present''s fine apparently. At least when the two work together. Think evil queen with a magic mirror.


    XO-CloudDancer-OX: That''s so cool. Did you two watch the whole contest live?"


    Mossdeep_Moon: Yup~ And we''re not evil!


    Mossdeep_Sun: One of us at any rate¡­


    Mossdeep_Moon: Oi!


    XO-CloudDancer-OX: Hehehe, your siblings are funny.


    Sir_Aaron: They''re adorable. And little terrors when they want to be.


    XO-CloudDancer-OX: So if they''re the evil queen, does that make you the princess?


    Sir_Aaron: ?? Only if you''ll be my prince~~~


    Mossdeep_Moon: Eww, bro, I got goosebumps from how gross that sounded.


    Mossdeep_Sun: I think I threw up a little.


    Sir_Aaron: Everyone''s a critic. And to answer your question, I''m going to stay in Verdanturf for a bit. After that, who knows? I''m thinking south. Oldale? Petalburg? Who knows?


    Mossdeep_Sun: Cool, so gym badge?


    Sir_Aaron: Right. Maybe even find a third pok¨¦mon for my team. I should get around to talking to mom about that actually.


    Mossdeep_Moon: Ooh! Another psychic? An abra? It''s a lunatone, isn''t it?


    Mossdeep_Sun: No way, solrock is definitely better.


    Mossdeep_Moon: Is not.


    Mossdeep_Sun: Is too!


    Mossdeep_Moon: Is not times two.


    Mossdeep_Sun: Is too times infinity.


    XO-CloudDancer-OX: ¡­


    Sir_Aaron: Let''s not put Lisia off the idea of little siblings, you two. I''m still trying to get her to adopt one of you. And it''s not going to be a psychic.


    Mossdeep_Sun: Your lame. Why is our brother so lame, Liza?


    Mossdeep_Moon: He is. I''m sorry, Lisia. You had the misfortune of meeting him.


    XO-CloudDancer-OX: Hehehe, I think you three are tons of fun though. And I can adopt both of you.


    Mossdeep_Moon: Nope. That''s not how this works. You either take Tate off our hands or you get adopted by us.


    Mossdeep_Sun: Hey!


    XO-CloudDancer-OX: Okay, guess you can all call me big sis now. And if it''s not going to be a psychic, maybe a rare pok¨¦mon that only a gym leader can get? Is it going to be a dragon? Boys like dragons, right?


    Sir_Aaron: We''ll see.


    Mossdeep_Sun: I bet it''s going to be a bagon, just like Drake''s.


    Sir_Aaron: Secret~


    Mossdeep_Moon: Booooo!


    Mossdeep_Sun: Booooo!


    XO-CloudDancer-OX: Booooo!


    Sir_Aaronron: Well done, you midgets. You''ve corrupted Lisia.


    Mossdeep_Moon: You say that like it''s a bad thing.


    I shook my head at their antics. I got changed into something more comfortable than my slacks and lied down on my bed. The contest itself hadn''t taken long, it was still only one in the afternoon, but I felt like the whole mess had taken the full day.


    First things first, I wanted to chat with Jeanne alone. I let her out of her ball only for her to curl up and sulk on the bed. I gently picked her up and hoisted her onto my lap. I poked her side and marveled as my finger sank all the way to the knuckle into her wool.


    "Jeanne."


    "Maaa¡­ Mareep." It was the most dejected bleat I''d ever heard from the little lamb.


    I reached out and stroked her ears, just below the horns where I knew her sweet spot to be. She barely twitched, which was how I really knew this was serious. "We lost."


    "Mareep¡­"


    "And that''s okay."


    "Maa?"


    "That''s okay," I said, more firmly this time. "Losing is okay."


    "Mareep. Mareep-maa. Maree?"


    Artoria''s ball pulsed with concern as she sensed my confusion. I tried to piece together what Jeanne was saying and was dearly tempted to let my starter out to play translator, but I refrained. I wanted this conversation to be between just the two of us, at least in the moment. "I''m not disappointed in you, Jeanne. Did you think I would be?"


    She finally looked up at that. Her big, brown eyes were watery. "Mareep?"


    "I''m not upset and you shouldn''t be either. Tell me, Jeanne, did you do your best?"


    "Maa¡­"


    "That''s not good enough. Your best wasn''t good enough today. Our best wasn''t good enough today. And that''s good. Becoming the most radiant ampharos in the world shouldn''t be easy. Grand Coordinator shouldn''t be a title we can achieve without difficulties. It should be a long, hard climb to the top. That''s why it''s worth doing, isn''t it?


    "Are you upset you lost? Good. Now use the bitterness; channel it and let it fuel you into being better. Our best wasn''t good enough, but we''re going to try again and the next time we see Solidad and Martin, our best will be good enough. Losing now hurts, but we''ll get there no matter how long it takes, together."


    I stared down the dejected lamb, willing her to understand. I was never much of a motivational speaker, but I did know what it felt like to lose. The very first competition I went to in Japan, I let the crowd get to me. There was a palpable feeling that I wasn''t wanted, never mind that I was half Japanese. Half a gaijin was still a gaijin and a gaijin had no business learning kendo.


    Like with any other athlete, the sting of defeat was an old friend. As clich¨¦ as it was, it really was a matter of how many times you got back up.


    Lucky for me, the pok¨¦mon world agreed. This world ran on shonen tropes and the power of friendship. So long as she would stand, I''d be there to support her and that alone would be enough for her to grow stronger.


    "Ma. Mareep," she bleated. She reached up, placed her two front hooves on my shoulders, and said, "Mareep. Mareep. Ma-ma-reep."


    We stared at each other like that for a solid minute. I reached out and rubbed her ears affectionately. Alas, I had to burst her bubble. "Jeanne, dear?"


    "Maa?"


    "I have no idea what you said."


    The look of shocked realization frozen on her face was so comical that I bust out laughing. I spent the rest of the day consoling a freshly sulking mareep. As I plied the little lamb with a juicy berry to earn her forgiveness, I allowed myself a warm smile.


    I wouldn''t have things any other way.


    Author''s Note


    I figure the chat system is a good way to give side characters some personality. I write a ton of Worm, so I guess I felt a little weird not adding some online hijinks to the mix. PHO''s kind of a pain, but it''s a lovable pain, you know? I''ll probably do a full interlude later.


    Shonen pep talk? Shonen pep talk.


    Thank you for reading. To reach a wider audience, and because I enjoy a more forum-like setup to facilitate discussion, I like to crosspost to a wide variety of websites. You can find them all on my Link Tree: https://linktr.ee/fabled.webs.</a>

 2.8 Salad

    Salad 2.8


    Aaron Fulan


    Verdanturf Town, Hoenn Region


    Jeanne, ever the shining optimist, was back to her usual sunny self the next day. She launched herself from my face with the kind of energetic cheer typically reserved for tykes on Christmas morning. After the morning ritual of washing the sweat off my face, I grabbed my already packed hammerspace bag and got ready to head out. In lieu of trying to coax Artoria from slumber, I gently lifted my partner and set her down on Jeanne''s back.


    I grinned and got out my Pok¨¦Nav to snap a few quick pictures for the chatroom gallery. "Okay, Jeanne, stay right there. The twins are going to love this. I think I''ll title this one, ''Dame Artoria and her noble steed conquer the dawn.''"


    "Mareep!" my little lamb cheered as she valiantly galloped to reinforce the pok¨¦mon center canteen. Chuckling, I shook my head and followed after at a more sedate pace.


    After all, hunger was the enemy.


    X


    Today was the official start of our mega stone hunt. The three of us spent some time wandering around town, mostly during our daily jogs, but we hadn''t dared step out of Verdanturf for fear of wasting too much time while Jeanne was busy preparing for her contest. Today was different. With no contest to prepare for, we could fully dedicate our time to acquiring one of the most valuable items in the world.


    I spent a full 1,500 LC just stocking up on rations and pok¨¦chow and shelled out another 1,000 LC for a sturdy pair of polaroid sunglasses so Jeanne could train her flashier attacks around me without blinding me. Another few grand went to potions and antidotes, including three super potions that cost me a whopping 1,260 LC even at a discount. Magic medicine wasn''t cheap.


    I didn''t intend to be back for at least a week, if at all. I planned for us to start with a systematic search of Verdanturf''s perimeter in a radial pattern before we checked in on some of the most likely locations for mega stones.


    There was no confirmed theory, but I had a hunch that these stones were more likely to show up in locations inhabited by their corresponding pok¨¦mon. No guarantees, but it was worth a shot, which meant I''d be looking into any sightings of mawile, pidgey flocks, and ralts covens. If I couldn''t find anything around Verdanturf, I''d be forced to head south through the expansive Petalburg Woods and all the way down to Oldale Town. I didn''t think we''d need to; the stone was probably somewhere in Verdanturf''s vicinity, but if that''s what it took, that''s what we''d do.


    ''So you are foregoing Lavaridge Gym for the moment, my lord?'' Artoria''s voice rang in my mind. It was a melodic and pure as always, but I could spot the tinge of drowsiness and mild annoyance at our morning antics.


    ''I''m thinking so, yeah,'' I told her, sending along a mental hug. ''It''s traditional to head north from Mauville, but I''ve never cared much for tradition.''


    ''No, I don''t suppose you do. Why though?''


    I smiled as the three of us began our stroll. It was easy to tell what she meant even with ambiguous questions like that, the perk of telepathy. I recited what I remembered of my history lessons while we headed out of the town; I''d always loved the subject even in my past life. ''The route from Rustboro to Sootopolis? It''s the route established during the founding of the Hoenn League in 26 BF, which is different from the International Pok¨¦mon League. Anyway, the founding of the League ended the Fragmentation Era and the Wars of Conquest. When Eva Mikuri became Founding Champion, only four of the major clans that made up Hoenn were left: Mikuri, Higana, Summers, and Fuyou.''


    ''Mikuri? I did not know Lady Lisia could claim such a noble ancestor.''


    I let out a mental scoff. ''Yeah, that''s one way to put it. Eva Mikuri was a cold and spiteful egomaniac by all accounts.''


    ''I take it there is a reason history remembers her so unkindly? Surely she had to have been great to unite the region.''


    ''Oh, yeah. She was great, but also a massive bitch. Anyway, back to the clans. The Mikuri were the guardians of Sootopolis and the Cave of Origin. Still are. The Summers family, mine, were the strongest psychics around and sold information in exchange for security. Records say we came from abroad as traders and set up a town on Mossdeep Island that grew into our own territory over the years. The Fuyou were and are the Keepers of Mt. Pyre. Even back then, they conducted many of the rituals worshipping the Legends and Mt. Pyre was considered a sacred place of neutrality among many city-states.''


    ''What of the Higana?''


    ''The Higana? They were dragon tamers. They''re still around and the core family still rule over a larger community that call themselves the Draconids. Eva Mikuri''s greatest success was in causing the Summers and Fuyou clans to break our vaunted neutrality in her favor. Family records say she married one of my great grandfathers. She also made her younger brother marry one of my great grandaunts. This twofold marriage exchange tied us together in an alliance that still, kind of, stands today. It''s something that happened close to four hundred years ago, but I suppose Lisia and I are cousins many times removed.''


    ''That seems like a wise choice. What was wrong with it?''


    ''Nothing in principle, but you''re thinking they all got along. We call it marriage in official records and history textbooks, but it was ultimately an exchange of hostages. There was no love involved. Betrayal on one side would have ended with the murder of said hostage and the start of a generations-long blood feud. It was her way of saying, "We''ll get along, or we''ll all die trying."''


    ''That¡­ Why? Why can''t humans let their yes be yes and no be no? Why enforce so much misery?''


    I reached down and patted Artoria''s head. ''Humans are spiteful creatures and the era was not kind to optimists. To this day, nothing in the Summers family library tells us exactly what Mikuri offered the Fuyou to get them on her side, but she managed somehow. In any case, the Mikuri-Summers-Fuyou alliance conquered the rest of Hoenn, murdering every single leading family besides themselves, man, woman, and child.''


    ''We would not do such a thing!''


    ''The Summers family? Oh, we did. My ancestors were just as brutal as anyone else back then. For example, there are historical records of us kidnapping a lord''s daughter and mind-fucking her into a loyal slave before allowing her to be "rescued" so she could infiltrate the enemy palace and murder her own father and brothers in their sleep. History books don''t exactly talk about the worst things my family did, but our records do. In explicit detail.''


    ''Why? Why would your ancestors¡­''


    ''Murder thousands before forcing a twelve year old girl to commit kinslaying? Because it was war. Because it was revenge for his own son''s death. Because even though we like to think psychic powers amplify the capacity for empathy and understanding, the opposite is equally true: Psychics are some of the cruelest, most vindictive assholes on the planet. That''s why our private records were never expunged, I think. These stories are supposed to be a warning, a promise that we''d never forget our crimes even if the rest of Hoenn did, a reminder to live with some humility because we have no moral high ground.''


    ''I¡­ I think I understand,'' Artoria spoke, her mental song subdued. ''My lord, may we speak of lighter topics?''


    I chuckled mirthlessly. I had to admit, the sweet aroma of the flowers didn''t make for a good backdrop to such a tale. We were almost out of Verdanturf now. ''Yeah, I suppose I got a bit off track. Anyway, after we won, Mikuri became the Founding Champion. The Higana were strong enough to oppose us, or at least force an extremely costly victory, so they were able to negotiate some terms with their surrender. Even now, Meteor Falls is a semi-autonomous region of Hoenn and is devoid of ranger patrols beyond what the Draconids allow.


    ''But anyway, with three of the four remaining clans situated in the east, Mikuri decided to set the new capitol in Ever Grande City to spite the Higana head so that he would have to fly over every burnt ruin and deep into enemy territory to pledge fealty to the new League. She wanted him to see the ruins of what was once his and his allies'' lands before comparing that with the prosperity enjoyed by her allies. It was a blatant show of power and a slap in the face. That''s why the traditional Hoenn gym route goes from Rustboro east to Sootopolis, because it mirrors the detour Ristal Higana, the patriarch of the clan back then, made while visiting every ruined settlement on his way to kneel before Eva Mikuri. That route is called the Dragon''s Lament in some of the older history books.''


    ''My lord?''


    ''Yes, Artoria?''


    ''I think I understand why she is disliked now.''


    I let out a bark of laughter. ''Yeah, again, this is how we remember her, and the Summers were her allies. Imagine what the Higana thought of her back then. Or still do for that matter. She was great. Powerful and charismatic, but also a colossal cunt. All that to say, fuck the traditional route.''


    To my surprise, she nodded resolutely. ''Indeed. Fuck the traditional route.''


    ''Heh, Swearing? I''m such a bad influence on you.''


    Artoria hopped off her electrifying steed, her nose raised in the air in a disdainful sniff. ''You are. It is good to recognize your faults. Admission is the first step to improvement.''


    I rolled my eyes. We were in the outskirts of Verdanturf now. Unlike with Mauville, there wasn''t a single thing that separated the "wilds" from "Verdanturf." The town naturally bled into personal orchards and gardens that became increasingly larger, speckled with flower patches and trees that clearly hadn''t ever heard of city planners. It was beautiful, the kind of seamless transition that only became apparent when the berry bushes and fruit trees fell away in favor of more forest.


    If I remembered right, these trees were planted so flush to the forest so that wild pok¨¦mon could have something to eat without encroaching upon the livelihoods of farmers, a sort of offering to the local fauna. It would never work in my old life, but I supposed it was a viable strategy when most of the wildlife was smart enough to negotiate with.


    At this point, after days of scouring the town, I didn''t think either the gardevoirite or mawilite were likely to be found so close to Verdanturf, but I was determined to leave no stone unturned, so we spent the day tracing the town perimeter one final time.


    As expected, we found nothing. I didn''t let the day go completely to waste though; I had my two pok¨¦mon train on the go much like before. Artoria was still working on condensing ghost type aura into her spoon. She could manage it, but some of the more nuanced katas were still difficult to pull off while maintaining her hold on an energy that was so anathema to her.


    Jeanne likely improved the most, though I suspected that a major reason for this was because she was comparatively new to training. Like with everything, it was easier to improve in the beginning when there were so many obvious things to improve upon. A big part of her training recently had been in improving her Tackle and I felt confident enough to say it had evolved to become Take Down.


    Strictly speaking, Take Down wasn''t a useful move for an ampharos, a pok¨¦mon that excels in ranged combat. Learning the move served dual purposes outside of viability in combat: First, Jeanne needed to be faster. No matter the "build" or "EV spread" of a pok¨¦mon, this wasn''t a game and physical conditioning would always be useful. Second, Jeanne needed to get in the mindset of fighting, of being hurt.


    It was something I noticed over the past four days, something I kicked myself for not noticing before. Jeanne wasn''t an aggressive fighter. She would execute a move when told of course, but the impulse to fight recklessly, to go all-in like Artoria did with every swing, was absent in my little lamb. She always held a piece of herself back subconsciously because she was so used to a more passive combat style that relied on slowing her opponent then striking them down from afar.


    To put it in shonen terms, she lacked killing intent.


    By having her ram into trees, rocks, and wild pok¨¦mon, even if it hurt her a little, I was trying to condition her mindset as much as her body. I wanted a bit of Artoria''s focused aggression to rub off on her so that should she face an opponent capable of closing the gap on her, she wouldn''t hesitate.


    I could relate because I was the same way when I first started learning kendo. I needed to be taught that it was okay, encouraged even, to bean someone upside the head with a stick¡­ in specific situations. I needed to be taught not to fear getting hurt, to discipline myself into a more combative mentality that wouldn''t retreat from the line.


    X


    It was nightfall now and we''d taken a bit of a detour to sleep in a campground maintained by the rangers. These campsites were fairly common on the outskirts of towns. They provided traveling trainers an option should they be unable to afford a room and acted as yet another point of intersection between local trainer hopefuls and the rangers. I remembered camping out on Mossdeep''s beaches fondly.


    I hadn''t bothered to set up a tent, opting instead to gaze up at the myriad of stars that dotted the night sky. The stars were beautiful and I wondered if any of the constellations were comparable with Earth''s. Unfortunately, stargazing had never been a hobby of mine, what with the polluted air of cities in the old world.


    This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.


    Jeanne yawned sleepily as she cuddled into my side, plum tuckered out from her time ramming everything that moved. She KO''d a rattata, three zigzagoon, one roselia, and four oddish during our trek through the woods, all with Take Down. I lazily scratched behind her horns and fed her a mix of dried strawberries and apples. She deserved them.


    Next to me, Artoria hummed a relaxing melody to herself as she polished her spoon. I''d gotten her a high-quality polishing cloth and she''d taken to polishing her weapon of choice to a mirror shine every night. She''d made a fair bit of progress as well and had taken to performing her sword forms while using the local vegetation as imaginary opponents and obstacles. By the end of the day, she could maintain the ghost type aura like a knife''s edge over the spoon without losing focus, provided nothing interrupted her concentration, something I took to doing with glee in the name of training her precognition.


    I closed my eyes and turned my attention inward. This was my own training. According to the texts from my family library, human psychics typically had an affinity towards either the mental or physical aspects of the art. Few were truly exceptional at every aspect, the twins being rare examples that proved the rule.


    Given my natural empathic abilities, it was fairly obvious where my own talents lay, though I lacked the Sight as far as anyone knew. That just meant I would have to work on my pericognition, knowledge of the present, as it pertained to my immediate surroundings. Farseeing divination was hardly the only way to use this power after all.


    I focused on the connection between Artoria and myself. It was as it always was, a pulse of warmth that spoke of unshakeable loyalty and love. I allowed myself to luxuriate in the sensation like sinking into a relaxing bath. Safety. Acceptance. Belonging.


    I reluctantly gathered my thoughts and began to focus outward. I used our psychic bond as a frame of reference as I began to expand upon my fledgling abilities. Currently, I saw emotions as colors, but that in itself made no sense. My eyes had nothing to do with emotions. It wasn''t like emotions gave off light after all. I wanted to change that; I wanted to be able to read the emotions of everyone around me, whether I could see them or not.


    To start, I''d settle for simply being able to sense life signs. It wouldn''t protect me from dark types, but it was a hell of an edge to have, especially when traveling the wilds. I used our bond as a sample and pushed my attention outward until I could feel flickers of mental activity that were not mine nor my partner''s.


    Then, my mind snapped back into place like a rubber band, leaving me with a sharp headache. I plopped down onto the sleeping bag. "Oww¡­"


    ''You touched other minds for a moment, my lord,'' Artoria encouraged. ''It was brief, but I felt your mind expand.''


    "Mareep?" Jeanne bleated. She turned and licked my fingers to express concern. Or maybe she was sad she ran out of dried strawberries.


    I smiled and booped her nose. "It''s nothing, girl, just a bit of psychic training."


    "Ma, mareep. Mareep."


    ''She says she wishes you luck, my lord. She is eager to speak with you in full,'' my kirlia dutifully translated.


    "Yeah, soon, Jeanne. Soon."


    The night passed amicably as the three of us basked in each other''s company. I worked on my psychic abilities for another hour before I decided my head hurt too much to be productive. Exhaustion really was the best sleep medication.


    X


    The next morning greeted me with a bit of a conundrum. Namely, where to now? A radial pattern from Verdanturf, as much as I''d like, wasn''t sustainable forever. I could do this for maybe two weeks, a full month if I was willing, but that wouldn''t be enough to cover much ground.


    In the end, I made the executive decision to head towards Rusturf Mountains. The mountain range between Rustboro and Verdanturf was another major change from the games. From what I remember, the tunnel led directly into Verdanturf Town and was a single, straight shot west to Rustboro, hence the name.


    In reality, no one sane wanted to build a town directly in front of a cave entrance, especially not where superpowered wildlife could take offense. Nor was the Rusturf Caverns, the cave system that spanned much of the range, so easily mapped out. It was a whole cave system, with several ranger-approved paths available for trainers negotiated for with the wild pok¨¦mon in the area.


    Just as the cave system was much more complicated, there was an appropriately wider sampling of biodiversity in the Rusturf Mountains. Pidgeot and altaria alike could be found making nests towards the peaks. In the deepest reaches of the cave system, onix, geodude, and nosepass could be found digging for ores to eat, ever expanding the cave in doing so.


    Really, the primary reason whismur were the most commonly seen pok¨¦mon throughout the tunnel was because the tunnel was paved specifically so it passed through a whismur colony. The shy pok¨¦mon were among the least likely to be hostile to trainers and so long as no one pissed off the exploud, the tunnel was as safe as any route could be.


    I was searching the area west of Verdanturf primarily for the sake of crossing it off my list of suspects, but I also hoped that I could maybe meet an interesting pok¨¦mon or two. Truthfully? I was getting a little tired of all the oddish and roselia.


    ''Anything?'' I asked Artoria as she wove through the branches like the world''s least historically accurate ninja. Although her footwork was as sharp as ever, her ghostly blade had long since evaporated in her excitement. She hadn''t even noticed, so busy was she in expanding her senses outward for even the slightest hint of psychic and fae power.


    ''There is a pulse to our northwest, my lord. It feels unlike the alakazite I found earlier.'' I felt the bond flex from her end and suddenly, I knew what she was focusing on. It was a pulse of psychic aura that shone steadily like a light in the night. ''Do you feel what I feel, my lord? I can tell that this is either a psychic pok¨¦mon or the stone rather than a pok¨¦mon practicing a psychic type move because if it were simply a move, the aura would not be constant.''


    ''I see what you mean. Now is it a pok¨¦mon or a stone?'' I wondered as we approached closer. Five minutes later, I saw a corona of emotion beyond the thicket. ''Pok¨¦mon. I can see the emotions.''


    ''So it seems,'' she said, disappointment palpable.


    It turned out to be a small natu, pecking away at a berry on the ground. It was no mega stone, but I was satisfied with the knowledge of how far Artoria''s sensing ability has come. Now that I could see the natu and feel it through her bond, I could tell just how small its psychic presence was.


    Then, I had an idea. I wanted to learn to sense life. What better way than to piggyback off her bond as she conducted her search like this?


    ''Do you mind, Artoria?''


    ''Of course not, my lord. One should always strive to better oneself.''


    ''Then I suppose I shall be in your care, teacher,'' I sent back teasingly. With our minds so deeply merged, I literally felt her flush with embarrassment before she huffed.


    We spent the first day doing nothing but psychic-spotting. Artoria spent hours just pointing out where she could sense psychic aura, when, and how powerful it was relative to herself. When I got a feel for it, she stopped lecturing and we instead moved on to playing a game of trying to guess what we were sensing.


    Artoria won the overwhelming majority of times, but just the fact that I could play at all with her made me giddy. It was proof that my sensory abilities were improving by leaps and bounds. In a few days, when I had grown accustomed to sensing psychic aura, I promised myself I''d work on sensing other living creatures, starting of course with Jeanne.


    We met a surprisingly diverse cast of psychics pok¨¦mon including a spoink that had dropped down from the Mt. Chimney area, several more natu that we learned were part of one loosely connected flock, a meowstic, and even an abra that seemed curious about being a battling pok¨¦mon, when it wasn''t sleeping at any rate. Alas, I kept my word to Artoria and refrained from asking the abra to the team. The species was a bit too narcoleptic for a stringent lifestyle and promises were promises after all.


    We were almost ready to make camp, away from anyone else this time, when I heard Artoria''s voice in my head.


    ''My lord?''


    ''Yes, Artoria?''


    ''Thank you for honoring your promise.''


    I shrugged and began to lay out my bedroll. ''It''s really not a big deal. I may be a Summers, but I don''t care nearly as much about psychic types as mom or the twins. I want to be a great psychic. I don''t want to raise great psychics. There''s a difference.''


    ''It meant much to me, and I thank you, but¡­ you can have other psychics.''


    ''Oh?''


    ''Shall we go back? I believe I can locate the sleepy one again if you wish to speak to him.''


    ''No, that''s fine. What changed?''


    She flushed. ''The bond changed. I changed. I¡­ Ever since my evolution, our connection has deepened and I can feel your intentions more clearly. I still do not enjoy the idea of another sharing our bond, but I would not be opposed entirely¡­''


    ''My mind is prime real estate, is it?''


    ''It is. One''s mind is one''s most secret sanctuary after all.''


    ''Well you don''t have to worry. I don''t think psychics are anything to chase after,'' I reassured her again. It was cute in a way, seeing her overcome her hang-ups. I doubted she''d ever fully feel comfortable amongst her kind until she could prove that her sword was as powerful as any other psychic art, but she''d made remarkable progress in a scant few weeks. She was maturing, and at speeds that would be impossible for a human child.


    We were silent for a long moment as we basked in each other''s presence. ''My lord?''


    ''Hmm?''


    ''If not a powerful psychic pok¨¦mon to join our team, what do you want to ask from Lady Sharon?''


    It took a few seconds for me to make sense of what she was asking. ''The alakazite?''


    ''Yes. I thought that you would want a psychic from afar. Perhaps an eevee so you can arrange its evolution into an espeon? Their kind always seemed inordinately popular among humans.''


    ''Hah, yeah. Espeon are pretty great. They''re adorable and plenty strong in a fight, but that seems like a bit of a waste, no? Eevee can be found in Hoenn too. In these woods in fact. They''re rare, but not exactly unobtainable.''


    ''Indeed. Then perhaps a hatenna from far off Galar? Mother told me that their line are some of the most potent empaths in the world. They could be a good fit for you, my lord.''


    ''A hatterene?'' I mused. My thoughts went to what I could remember about them from the games. ''They''re very powerful pok¨¦mon. They''re also very silent pok¨¦mon who value their peace and quiet. I doubt one would get along with Jeanne.''


    Artoria let out a mental snort. ''No, I suppose not. You did want a pok¨¦mon from her correct? You do not strike me as the type of man who covets material wealth.''


    ''Definitely not. So yeah, probably a pok¨¦mon.''


    ''Then if not a psychic, which?'' She then audibly groaned and leaned into my side. ''Please don''t tell me you want one of those barbaric dragons.''


    I reached over and began to rub her pink head crests. She let out an audible sigh as she sank deeper into the sleeping bag. ''Hmm¡­ A salamence would be nice. I mean, what''s not to like? They''re strong, fast, and learn a wide variety of moves.''


    ''They are also barbaric, with short tempers and an insufferable arrogance that borders on the comical.''


    ''If I had one, it could fly me places.''


    ''I can teleport,'' she pouted. ''You need no upjumped lizard to ferry you around like luggage.''


    ''Are you jealous?''


    ''I am not! Tis but a knight''s duty to slay dragons. I am merely espousing the virtues of chivalry and honor. A winged lizard knows no such things.''


    ''Well you can relax. I wouldn''t mind a dragon, but I don''t really want a bagon in particular. In the first place, the Higana don''t exactly like our family and they have something close to a monopoly on the species in Hoenn.''


    ''Even now? They would keep you from raising a dragon?''


    ''Keep me? No. They''d raise a stink over it for sure though. Maybe even sponsor an elite trainer to enter every tournament I enter just to obstruct my career. I don''t think they''d do anything outright illegal, but they can make life difficult. But if you must know, a dragon is one of the two pok¨¦mon I am considering asking for.''


    ''A dragon¡­''


    ''Oh relax, goomy are some of the kindest and least temperamental of all dragons.''


    ''Goomy? I don''t think I''m familiar with them.''


    I dug up the relevant memories from my runthrough of X and Y and sent them her way. ''They''re dragons despite their appearance. They don''t look like much, but once they evolve, they are some of the sturdiest pok¨¦mon around.''


    ''I don''t understand. The pok¨¦dex you remember lists them as the weakest of all dragons.''


    ''Only when they''re young. And, I also want to experiment a bit and feed a goomy an iron-rich diet to see if I can induce a Hisuian evolution to give it a steel type.''


    ''You should consider becoming a researcher, my lord. With the many nuggets of hidden knowledge you possess, you could easily make groundbreaking discoveries.''


    ''Nope. Knowledge from a game isn''t the same as actual intelligence and a passion for the scientific method. What I know would probably be a good jumping-off-point, but nothing more than that. I might find initial success as a researcher, but it''d be impossible to build off my findings without the proper background and passion. I''d feel like a fraud. And besides, I don''t think either you or Jeanne would be happy with a quiet life in academia.''


    ''No, I suppose not¡­ So you desire a¡­ "tank" for our team?'' she mused. She''d slowly begun to incorporate some of the terminology used in competitive battling back in my old life. ''Wise. Neither Jeanne nor I are defensively inclined.''


    ''That''s one choice.''


    ''What''s the other?''


    ''A larvesta, a bug and fire dual type from Unova that evolves into one of my favorite pok¨¦mon of all time,'' I admitted. I loved everything about it, from the design to its role on my team. ''Volcarona, its evolution, are the exact opposites of goodra. They''re offense personified. Strong fliers, powerful ranged attacks, versatile movesets. You name it; they''ve got it.''


    ''Does not the current Champion of the region have one?''


    ''Alder. And yeah. I''m surprised you remember that.''


    ''Mother told me that it is good to know the powerful trainers I hope to challenge one day.''


    ''And you want to challenge Champion Alder?''


    ''I want to challenge all the Champions. And their Elites. Once I have bested father at the blade, I hope to travel the world and test myself further against every storied trainer and pok¨¦mon.''


    ''You sure don''t dream small.''


    ''Small dreams are for small minds.''


    ''Did Alice tell you that?''


    ''Mother did not. Alfonse did.''


    ''Heh, should''ve known. Sounds like that blowhard.''


    ''He is a fine elder of the family, my liege,'' she admonished lightly. ''I am certain he is appreciative of our gift.''


    ''Knowing him? He''ll probably tell us some sage advice that only makes sense long after it becomes useful.''


    ''¡­ That is no reason to show him disrespect.''


    ''But you agree.''


    ''¡­ Yes¡­''


    ''In any case, I''m looking for either a goomy or a larvesta. I have a few others in mind, but they''re my top picks. Between the two, do you have a preference?''


    I could see her nose scrunch up adorably in concentration. ''Hmm¡­ I lean in favor of a goomy, my lord. Ranged offense is a position I suspect Jeanne will take on in the future.''


    ''But ampharos are relatively slow and don''t have the advantage of flight. There is some overlap between an ampharos and a Volcarona, but their fighting styles are different, as are the elemental diversity they cover.''


    ''This is true¡­ We do not need to decide now¡­ Perhaps we should consult Jeanne as well?''


    ''You''re right; she''s as much part of this team as you or I.'' I glanced down at my little lamb, but she was already asleep. That was fine, so long as she didn''t sleep-crawl onto my face. The little rascal at least knew better than to mess with me in the wilds. ''I think she fell asleep while we were talking.''


    ''Then I shall broach the subject tomorrow. Good night, my lord.''


    I tucked her into my side and leaned back, staring up above at the myriad stars. ''Good night, Artoria. Sweet dreams.''


    Author''s Note


    BF here meaning "before founding." Mikuri is Wallace''s Japanese name. Higana is Zinnia''s. Fuyou is Phoebe''s. Yes, this means Phoebe is part of the Mt. Pyre group. I hope that history lesson paints a good picture of where I want this story to go. It wouldn''t be a pok¨¦mon story if there wasn''t a lingering shadow of some great war in the background.


    Aaron''s psychic abilities are growing stronger. I had to figure out a way to show tangible improvement while not going the physical reinforcement route, at least for now.


    The beauty of a psychic type starter is having someone smart enough to bounce ideas off of. An assistant coach if you will. But yeah, I''m thinking about a goomy or larvesta. I considered the other pseudo-legends but they''re either meh to me or would clash pretty violently with Artoria.


    I actually thought about a Galarian ponyta so our King Arthur could have his Llamrei, but ultimately decided against it. Aaron''s not going to waste a favor from Sharon just to turn his starter into a meme¡­ more of a meme¡­


    Thank you for reading. To reach a wider audience, and because I enjoy a more forum-like setup to facilitate discussion, I like to crosspost to a wide variety of websites. You can find them all on my Link Tree: https://linktr.ee/fabled.webs.</a>

 2.9 Salad

    Salad 2.9


    Aaron Fulan


    Rusturf Mountains, Hoenn Region


    I felt a little strange calling where we were the "Rusturf Mountains" seeing how we''d yet to actually climb more than half a dozen feet in elevation at most from Verdanturf. Still, we passed the ranger station and the signpost so it was what it was.


    "Kirlia. Kir. Kirlia¡­ Liiaaa."


    Jeanne looked up at that, nudging her horns into Artoria''s lower tummy. Despite the initial embarrassment from my teasing, the two had gotten used to traveling like a mounted knight, at least when they weren''t doing individual training. "Maa? Reep. Mareep."


    "Kirlia."


    "Mareep."


    "Kiii¡­ Kirlia?"


    "Maree¡­ Mareep-ma. Mareep."


    "Kir," Artoria said, letting out a snorting laugh that sounded a lot like the tinkling of chimes.


    I smiled as I walked around a particularly gnarled root. It was good to see the two interact more. They were both adorable chuunis, but were otherwise diametrically opposed in personality. Artoria was quiet and quite reserved, save with myself. She was also disciplined and dedicated to the sword arts to the point of obsession. On the other hand, Jeanne was naturally bombastic, a never-ending fireworks display of enthusiasm. She was more curious and had an unexpected mischievous side.


    Under normal circumstances, even had they been of the same species, I wouldn''t have expected them to become friends. Seeing them joke like this made me wish I understood pok¨¦mon like Yellow or N. A few minutes later, I felt Artoria tug gently on our bond, dragging me into her consciousness. My body walked on in autopilot, long since used to sharing our senses.


    ''My lord, I spoke to Jeanne concerning a potential teammate from abroad,'' she said.


    ''Oh? That''s great. Thanks for doing that, Artoria.''


    ''Tis no problem. She says she does not want a goomy.''


    ''Did she say why?''


    ''They are not huggable.''


    ''Really? That''s her reason?''


    ''She cares very much for her wool, my lord. A slimy creature would matt it down. She fears it will keep her from looking her best.''


    ''She won''t always be a mareep.''


    ''Perhaps, but she is not a fan of the idea nonetheless.''


    I chuckled. Leave it to Jeanne to decide on the viability of a teammate based on how huggable they were. Still, it was as good a reason as any. There were other tanks out there and a sligoo would have been difficult to train by all accounts. If even one of my pok¨¦mon didn''t like the notion, I didn''t see a reason to insist on one. ''I suppose that leaves us with a larvesta. I''ll ask mom about it the next time I call her. Unless you had anything else to add?''


    ''I do not. But in the future, may we consider a physical combatant? I would not mind a sparring partner.''


    ''I''ll put that on my list. I should let you know though. Volcarona may be some of the strongest ranged combatants around, but their pre-evolutions are actually physically inclined. They rely on moves like Flare Blitz instead of Flamethrower in battle. And, larvesta are slow growers despite being bug type; it takes a lot for one to evolve so we''ll likely have a physical powerhouse on the team for a while.''


    She brightened up considerably at that. ''In that case, I look forward to meeting one. I shall prove that my blade can cut any flame!''


    I thought about it. I didn''t know what the melting point of silver was exactly, but unless she greatly reinforced the spoon with psychic energy, she was likely in for a bad time. I told her so, and all that got me was an oath to train even harder until not even magma could melt her sword. She swore to cleave a volcano, molten core and all, with a swing of her blade.


    ''One day, Artoria. One day,'' I promised her. Pok¨¦mon ran on shonen logic. Frankly, with the kind of training she did and the full, unrestrained conviction and dedication to her craft, I wasn''t ready to discount the feat from the realm of possibility.


    We soon found a clearing and settled down for our midday meal. I had hoped to find some berries to supplement my stores, but that turned out to be a miss. Everything I found was either underripe, overripe, or claimed by a wild pok¨¦mon. I rummaged through my hammerspace bag and pulled out a kettle to make rice. I''d picked up a taste for the stuff in my old life from the Japanese half of my family and with the space provided by this world''s technology, there wasn''t any reason to subsist entirely on trail mix and beef jerky.


    I soon had a fire going and the rice set to boil with a touch of vinegar. Next to it, I pulled out two largeish fillets of magikarp and tossed it into a separate pan with salt, pepper, and spices that didn''t exist back in my old world. I then started chopping some dried, sour plums to add to the dish. I was purposely making more than we could eat. Any leftovers could be mixed with sesame oil and soy sauce to make a rice ball for the road.


    While the food was cooking, I unfolded a camping chair and pulled Artoria and Jeanne onto my lap before calling my mom. The Pok¨¦Nav didn''t even have the chance to ring once before the call went through. My mother''s face popped up as a hologram, ever the picture of cold beauty.


    "Aaron," she spoke, her voice clinical, "You''ve decided on a favor of choice."


    "Hello to you too, mother," I said dryly. "Would common courtesy kill you?"


    "It might."


    "Heh. Humor. Not bad. Not good, but it''s a start. Did you see that I''d call you?"


    "I did."


    "Then you know what I want?"


    To my surprise, she shook her head. "No. Do not look so surprised, Aaron. The Sight does not make me omniscient. I merely seem that way to those who lack the gift."


    "So you saw me calling you but not the details of what I''d ask? How does that make sense?"


    "Tell me, Aaron. When you think of the Sight, what do you imagine?"


    "How do I picture it? I guess a crystal ball. You know, peering into a pool to see visions of the future."


    "That is how most people imagine it. In truth, it is more akin to standing on a hilltop and overlooking the branching paths available. The further away the future, the more susceptible it is to external influence just as your vision might be influenced by time of day or weather. In the same way, certain details can be more difficult to perceive, especially where direct interactions of multiple psychics or powerful entities are concerned."


    "Huh¡­ So a meeting, but not the details¡­"


    "I suspect it is futile, but I will remind you that this should all be information you already possess. You should study more of the family library."


    "I might, actually," I said. She blinked in surprise, which was about as emotive as she normally got. "I recently gained the ability to sense psychic aura around me and I want to know what the best way to progress would be."


    Mom nodded, a ghost of a smile dancing on her lips. "Good. I am pleased to hear you are taking your training seriously. Artoria is a good influence on you."


    "Kirlia¡­ Kir. Li. Kirlia." My partner muttered.


    "She says it is her duty as my loyal knight to push me to strive ever harder."


    "Perfunctory greetings have taken up too much of my time. What did you wish of me in exchange for the mega stone?"


    I rolled my eyes. This. Shit like this was exactly why everyone called her the ice queen. Yes, we had an ice type Elite. No, that didn''t matter; mom was somehow worse than Glacia. At this point, I shrugged off her callousness as the stumbling gait of a social cripple. "A larvesta."


    "That¡­ is unexpected."


    "Is that not possible?"


    "A larvesta is extremely rare and valuable."


    "Yeah. They''re also phenomenally powerful and worth every investment, which is why I want one."


    "Very well. I will speak with Caitlin."


    I blinked. "Caitlin¡­ Cattleya? The Unova Elite?"


    "Indeed. I am very pleased with her progress. We are acquainted."


    "How?"


    "We met five years prior when I last competed in the Pok¨¦mon World Tournament. She was a powerful psychic even then, albeit one lacking emotional discipline. When she lost in the quarterfinals, her depression weighed down her yacht and almost sank it. I taught her for some time. She has visited before, though you likely do not remember."


    "Huh¡­ Small world."


    "Power attracts power, Aaron. Experts often tend to cross paths."


    "Yeah. Think she''ll give me a larvesta? Can she give me a larvesta? Elite or not, they''re rare as all hell."


    "Perhaps. I will consider it her tuition fee. It will not be immediate, but I do not doubt her ability to procure one."


    "That''s great, mom. Thank you," I said sincerely.


    "Do not thank me. It is a reward for services rendered," she said with a stoic nod. "Alfonse has predicted some conflict in Rusturf Tunnel in the next several days. You should ensure you are elsewhere."


    "I¡­ Huh?"


    "Do keep up, Aaron. Alfonse would like to thank you for the alakazite and has been keeping tabs on your journey. He has discerned some conflict in the tunnel and is advising that you steer clear."


    "I¡­ Did you tell the rangers? And what conflict?"


    "We do not know, but something will provoke the exploud. The rangers have been warned but with little else to go on, they can only remain cautious."


    "Should I expect a general evacuation order?"


    "No. It is unlikely they will issue one, if only because they do not know the precise cause of the turmoil. If they enforce an evacuation now, it may be that they are simply postponing the inevitable by pushing the cause away temporarily."


    "Okay, tell Alfonse I said thanks. I''ll stay away from the cave system."


    "I shall." Her stoic fa?ade cracked for a moment to offer me a fleeting smile that seemed almost hesitant. "Congratulations on your performance in the contest. It was adequate."


    "Thanks mom," I said wryly, but the call had already cut out.


    X


    As promised, we kept well clear of Rusturf Tunnel for a few days. We were southwest of the entrance and just finishing up a lunchtime training session. Artoria was going through her kendo kata to cool down, Jeanne was working on condensing electricity into a ball outside of her body, and I was reading an article on the consolidation of psychic energy into physical constructs. It was written by a long-dead grandaunt who worked with Mr. Mime.


    Typically, kirlia of Artoria''s age would either focus on harnessing fairy type aura, refine their Hypnosis, or practice psychic projection by learning Psybeam. Artoria''s straightforward personality was anathema to the mystery of the fae, she still disliked deceit or "underhanded" tactics like Hypnosis, and outright refused ranged attacks because of her knightly oath. Psychic constructs were a bit advanced, but I felt that given her nature, my partner would respond better to this type of lesson.


    If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    Refining Shadow Sneak into a ghost type sword was already driving her up the wall. Something more solid and familiar would do her good, I felt. I would hardly be the first in the family to jump around the traditionally established lesson plan; minds were complicated things.


    I was brought out of my introspection when my Pok¨¦Nav let out a series beeps that I came to recognize in trainer school: It was the alert for the ranger emergency broadcast.


    ''My lord?'' Artoria stopped her kata mid-swing, sensing my unease.


    Next to her, Jeanne bleated out a question at the kirlia. "Mareep?" Artoria had taken to acting the part of our translator as well as Jeanne''s guide to all the minutiae of human society.


    "Kirlia. Kirlia, kir."


    I unlocked my fancy sci-fi phone so I could read the message. "Ranger emergency beacon¡­ Mom was wrong; it''s a general evacuation order¡­ The Rusturf Mountains are being closed off¡­ for¡­ two weeks¡­"


    Every word I read made my frown deepen. This wasn''t normal. A disturbance among wild pok¨¦mon happened frequently as different leaders fought for food, mates, territory, or simply to prove they were the strongest. This was true even among the most docile of pok¨¦mon populations as younger generations challenged their elders. While route closures could result from a particularly violent clash, they seldom lasted two whole weeks.


    ''I take it this changes our plans?''


    ''No, no it doesn''t,'' I thought at her. ''We were always going to cut through the wilds to Oldale because the mega stone is most likely southward somewhere. It''s just unusual, that''s all.''


    ''I see. Then I see no reason to worry. Unless the alert tells us what the cause was?''


    ''You''re right. If the rangers needed help, they would have issued a temporary draft instead. Let''s finish up here and head further south. I don''t want to stick around for trouble to find us.''


    I finished the article I was reading and packed up in a hurry. Despite what I told Artoria, I couldn''t help but be concerned. There was after all another reason why the rangers wouldn''t issue a draft: the threat was too strong. I was a one badge trainer whose starter could maybe fight at the three badge level at a stretch. I sure as hell wasn''t ready to handle rampaging exploud, or whatever else was brave enough to pick a fight with a herd of them.


    The three of us made good time. Four hours later, as the sun began to dip, I decided to set up camp. Surely we were past the worst of it? Then, as if Arceus decided to say, "Fuck you in particular," the forest fell silent.


    Artoria froze. I couldn''t sense as far out as her, but I knew better than to mistrust a psychic. I quickly shoved all the essentials in my pack and got ready to abandon the tent. It was pricey, but sure as hell not worth our lives. "Artoria?"


    ''Something is in great pain, my lord,'' she said with an audible shudder as she compartmentalized the distress she was vicariously feeling. I felt her try for a deeper scan and flinch back. ''It? She. She is desperate. There is a child. A cub.''


    ''Aggressive?''


    ''No. But big. She is fleeing.''


    That was when the scent must have hit. The wind changed, bringing the scent south. Jeanne''s nose was many times better than mine. I saw her wool light up, standing on end and sparking as her horns and tail shone like beacons. It was one part instinctive threat display and one part warning for the rest of the herd.


    "Mareep."


    "Kir?"


    "Mar."


    My partner turned to me. ''She smells blood. And a predator.''


    "Let''s go," I muttered. An injured mother of any species was bad news. "Quickly."


    We were about to make ourselves scarce when the clearing was filled with the sound of heavy, labored breaths and the dragging of feet. We reacted immediately. Jeanne and Artoria stood in between me and the interloper, spoon and horns glowing with aura. I picked up a can of repel, for all the good it''d do against an angry mother.


    The rustling grew louder and the bushes parted to reveal an ursaring. My heart sank along with our chances of survival. It practically crashed to zero when I spotted the teddiursa being dragged by the scruff of its neck. The reputation of a mother bear was as fearsome in this world as my old one. Somehow, I doubted waving my arms and looking large would cut it here.


    Then the sheer number of wounds littering her body registered. Her fur was matted with blood. The normal dusky brown was covered with splotches of rust-red. The vibrant yellow ring on her abdomen was virtually invisible in the setting sun. Her left eye was a gory mess of jelly and blood, still dribbling pus on the ground. Her teeth, most of them were gone as though smashed out of her mouth by some great force. She had one forelimb that she used to drag her cub along, the other a stump of jagged bone. Rending scars covered her chest and stomach, deep enough that I could see hints of gray entrails threatening to spill.


    A corona of emotion flowed around her like a dying flame, its sickly light alone enough to make me nauseous. This, this was a mother bear on her last breaths.


    We froze. The ursaring too panicked to have noticed us and me and mine shocked to stillness by the visceral reality of the wilds. For a long second, the five of us locked eyes.


    Then time resumed and desperate rage filled her as her lone eye took us in. Sparks of power danced along her mangled jaw like fireflies, their orange embers coalescing in a move I recognized all too well.


    "Shit! EVADE!" I roared, ducking to the side.


    We scattered just in time, only narrowly avoiding the Hyper Beam that lanced through six trees behind us. I heard the snap of tree trunks and the smell of burnt wood filled my nose. We had to run. I could withdraw Jeanne. Have Artoria teleport me out. Anything!


    Before I could even begin to reach for my pok¨¦ball, Jeanne launched a Thunder Shock with all the fear and hatred born of generations of trauma. A lamb. A bear. The history needed no explanation. The arc of electricity struck the bear, too delirious to even attempt to dodge. Under normal circumstances, a Thunder Shock likely wouldn''t have done anything to a mature ursaring, but the bear was nearly dead already.


    She roared in pain, a broken, raspy sound that tore at her vocal cords.


    It wasn''t enough. I could see her fight through the pain, letting it focus her. Her lone eye zeroed in on Jeanne as another Hyper Beam formed. Then, a broken cough rattled the bear and it launched half-formed, but with plenty of power to obliterate a single mareep.


    My eyes widened with fear as the beam careened towards her. Then, space distorted. Artoria was there, spoon raised and shimmering with psychic power.


    "KIRLIAAA!" she let out a wordless shout. Hyper Beam met Mana Edge in a clash of wills. Even half-formed as it was, the Hyper Beam was enough to launch both of my pok¨¦mon like bottle rockets through the air. They landed painfully and I took the chance to return Jeanne.


    ''Artoria!'' I thought urgently. ''Can you teleport us out?''


    I received a grunt of assent in response. She was by my side in the next second, but the ursaring let out a frenzied roar and took in a labored breath as she prepared her next Hyper Beam.


    I plunged inside Artoria''s mind, giving her what power I could. I felt her aura envelop us both as she tried to balance caution with haste. We''d never tried this before. Teleporting with someone else was considerably more advanced than anything we''d attempted with the move and cautionary tales of what could go wrong littered my family library.


    But we had to. We had no choice. We couldn''t talk her down; she was too delirious to listen. Defeating her was a pipe dream even in her broken state.


    Artoria wasn''t fast enough.


    A third Hyper Beam in as many minutes lanced out and I was forced to disrupt my kirlia''s channeling, tackling us both to the side. We ducked behind a tree to break line of sight, but that wasn''t enough. Our scent littered the clearing and we were now threats in the mother bear''s addled mind.


    A salvo of Swift stars screamed through the air and tore apart the tree we were using for cover. I picked up my partner and bodily threw us to the side, grunting painfully as I felt stones and twigs dig into my body.


    ''We must fight, my lord,'' Artoria thought grimly. ''If we flee, she will simply strike us down while our bacs are turned.'' She stood, her spoon as pristine as ever despite the recent abuse she put it through.


    I nodded. I saw no other option either. I considered releasing Jeanne again, but she''d be more hindrance than help panicking as she was. Instead, I joined minds with my partner. ''Dodge where you can. Don''t waste Protect. Close in on her blinded side with Double Team. Use Teleport to disengage.''


    ''I will make you proud.''


    ''You always do.''


    With that, she was off. Her form split into six and the deadly waltz began. The ursaring tried launching another Hyper Beam, ineffectually cutting down two of the clones. She then started firing more Swifts to try and home in on the real one.


    Artoria''s spoon blazed with ghostly fire, the crackling effect proof of a hasty construct. She deftly deflected each incoming Swift, the paradoxical relationship between normal and ghost type auras canceling each other out as though neither existed at all.


    Then, she was upon the ursaring mother. She dodged an enraged Slash, only to be forced into the ground by the next. I could feel her iron focus straining against the bear''s monstrous strength as she held it off with Protect.


    The mother bear''s jaw opened wide, dark aura coalescing around the few teeth she had. Bite? Crunch? It didn''t matter. The darkness seemed to eat away at the light of Artoria''s spoon.


    "Artoria!" I cried out, mental focus forgotten in my panic. Before I could order her to Teleport out, the ursaring let out a shuddering cough mixed with an agonized whine. The dark type aura dissipated slightly, but it held. She was about to strike when the cub that had seemed so dead to the world let out a keening cry as it interposed itself between her and my kirlia.


    "Teddi? Ursa!'' it cried. It stuck its own paws inside its mother''s mouth, not knowing if she was too angry to notice. The dark type energy vanished like smoke in the breeze as the mother caught whiff of her cub and the position it''d put itself in.


    "Uuu¡­ Ursaring?" she rumbled as she withdrew. The corona of rage and pain around her slowly transitioned into confusion and worry. The two ursines began to rumble and growl at each other, lost to the world around them.


    My little knight hopped back and lowered her weapon, though she didn''t sheathe it entirely. A flash of light and she was by my side.


    ''Artoria?'' I tried to make sense of the complex cocktail of emotions flooding the clearing. ''I don''t speak pok¨¦mon.''


    ''The cub does not want to see his mother suffer any longer. A battle would aggravate her wounds. I¡­ I do not wish to raise my blade here.''


    I studied them. There was pain there, but also a tenderness that I''d never have expected from an apex predator. It was a stark reminder that these weren''t the wild animals I knew. Pok¨¦mon, even wild, were capable of both logical and emotional intelligence that wouldn''t fall behind humans. ''Nor should you,'' I said finally. ''Let''s try to leave while she''s occupied.''


    ''Yes, my liege.''


    We were about to make ourselves scarce when the cub stumbled his way towards us. He was clearly exhausted, dirt and dried foliage clinging to his fur with the help of the matted blood of his mother. He looked at Artoria, then at me. An aurora of emotions passed through his face, staining his aura in a kaleidoscope of colors. Worry. Fear. Hope.


    "Teddiursa. Teddi! Teddiursa!"


    Artoria froze. Her own storm of emotions shifted from resolve and resigned violence to something tamer and kinder. "Kirlia?"


    "Teddi!"


    "Kir¡­"


    ''Artoria?''


    ''My lord, how many potions do we have?'' she asked. It wasn''t hard to guess what that conversation had been about.


    ''I¡­ Are you sure?''


    ''A knight helps those in need.''


    ''Even ones who tried to kill us?''


    ''I do not feel hostility.''


    I wanted to protest. I had potions, probably enough to stabilize the mother bear. If I captured her, I could take her to a pok¨¦mon center, possibly fast enough to help her survive the damage. But¡­ But this was like picking porcupine quills out of a starving lion''s jaws.


    And yet¡­ And yet, as I looked between the two bears and my partner, I knew that I''d be reaching for the tweezers. I wanted to be a role model for Artoria, a worthy lord. I¡­ I couldn''t fault her kindness. In the end, the lion was intelligent. This wasn''t my world.


    "Please tell them that I''m going to have to catch them both," I said, resigned to risking my life. All trainers knew it going in, but I hadn''t expected to make such an outrageous decision today. I dug around my pack for a super potion, one of three I bought just in case. Gingerly, not quite able to put aside the fear of a mother bear, I approached.


    ''Thank you, my lord,'' Artoria said. Her gaze was warm and compassionate but I was happy to see that her grip on her spoon never slackened.


    ''Thank me again if she hasn''t bitten off my face,'' I grumbled. The ursaring slumped to the ground but let out a low growl as I drew near. It was the teddiursa that quieted his mother, but their eyes never strayed from the potion bottle in my hand.


    "This is going to sting like a bitch. It won''t heal you. I don''t think anything less than a max potion and several surgeries will, but it should be enough to stabilize you," I spoke calmly, trying to remember every lesson I''d ever heard in passing about talking to frightened animals. "Do you understand?"


    The ursaring let out a disdainful chuff but lowered her head. She then shoved her cub towards me. "Ursaring."


    ''She wants you to treat her cub.''


    ''I gathered.''


    I decided not to argue and instead withdrew another bottle, lesser potion this time. With Jeanne''s comb, I parted the matted fur and looked for any cuts that might get infected. Pok¨¦mon vitality or no, it was still a valid concern. The cub whined pitiably but submitted himself to my ministrations.


    Then I turned to the mother. I¡­ I wasn''t sure where to start. Being a semi-pro athlete meant being able to treat basic injuries, provide first aid, ice a sprained ankle, that sort of thing, but nothing like this. This should have been the domain of trained surgeons, not a man who swung around sticks for a living. Still, I took comfort in Artoria''s psychic presence and did my best to triage what I knew.


    The ursaring''s mangled eye would likely get infected if I left it alone, but if it hadn''t killed her yet, it wasn''t likely to. Likewise, her missing arm was bleeding, but it was the gashes across her abdomen that really worried me. Those things had to be deep enough to plunge a finger into.


    I grit my teeth and did my best to spray her down. It only fully registered just how tough an ursaring was when I had to push a bit of her intestine back inside. Gagging, I finished up before handing her what sitrus berries I could from my stash.


    "I''m going to have to catch you both."


    "Ursa¡­ ring¡­"


    With a resigned nod, she closed her lone eye and allowed exhaustion to catch up to her. I palmed a pok¨¦ball and gently pressed it to her uninjured shoulder. The ball didn''t even shake once, proof that she was too tired to even offer a token resistance.


    I turned towards the teddiursa and held out another pok¨¦ball. "Come here, little one. When you wake up, we''ll be in a pok¨¦mon center."


    "Teddi?"


    "Kirlia," Artoria crooned soothingly. Amusingly enough, she was shorter than the bear cub but was by far the more mature. She gently pushed him towards me.


    "Teddiursa¡­" He reached out a paw expectantly and I tapped another pok¨¦ball against it. A flash of light later and it was done.


    "Well, that was anticlimactic," I said with an explosive sigh. Then again, considering how that could have ended, I''d take anticlimactic.


    ''What could do that to an ursaring? The mother was a powerful fighter.''


    ''Not many. Even a shiftry''s Leaf Blade would have trouble leaving that kind of damage. Whatever it was, she lost badly, badly enough to risk fleeing with her cub instead of hiding out somewhere in her territory like she normally might.''


    ''Then it is a good thing we withdrew south, my lord.''


    ''It is. I guess I owe Alfonse a thank you. Let''s get going.''


    ''Yes, my lord.''


    Author''s Note


    So yeah, a larvesta. It''s one of my favorite pok¨¦mon so I''m sure some of you saw it coming. As for Caitlin, she became an Elite at the start of this year, about the same time as Aaron''s journey began. She''s narcoleptic, but in the manga, she''s described as an immensely powerful psychic who loses control of her power because of her emotions.


    If the dialogue between Aaron and Sharon seems stilted, that''s intentional. I imagine her a bit like Sabrina, but without a support group.


    So I''ve always found that pok¨¦mon has an interesting dichotomy between being happy-go-lucky and being dangerously grimdark. Pok¨¦mon have an incredible capacity for violence and it''s a bit of a balancing act to display that while still making things seem less law of the jungle-y, if that makes any sense. This was my spin on it. The wilds aren''t aways a good place to be, neither are the routes for that matter.


    Thank you for reading. To reach a wider audience, and because I enjoy a more forum-like setup to facilitate discussion, I like to crosspost to a wide variety of websites. You can find them all on my Link Tree: https://linktr.ee/fabled.webs.</a>

 2.10 Salad

    Salad 2.10


    Aaron Fulan


    Verdanturf Town, Hoenn Region


    The next few hours passed in a blur. There was no way in hell we were going to make it to Verdanturf before nightfall at a walking pace. Artoria wanted to try teleporting with me, but I nixed the idea because our lives weren''t in immediate danger anymore. Instead, I made a beeline to the nearest ranger station on my Pok¨¦Nav. We were forced to travel much of it in the dark, but that was preferable to accidentally leaving a bit of myself behind in a botched teleport.


    Covered in dirt and forehead throbbing red from when I stumbled face-first into a tree, Artoria and I nonetheless reached the ranger station two hours later. A cheery fire and two rangers dressed in their navy-blue and burnt-orange uniforms greeted me.


    "Well don''t you look like you''ve seen some shit," one said with a gruff laugh. He had a scruffy beard that merged with his sideburns and was smoking a cigarette while sitting on a stump. Behind him were a pair of mightyena scarfing down what looked like the remains of a raticate alongside a berry or two. On his shoulder was a zubat that seemed unusually comfortable with the flame.


    "Don''t start, Steven," his partner said. He too sported a beard, but it was better groomed into a goatee. A noctowl sat next to him and he was taking a comb to groom its feathers. A zangoose was seated at his feet, sharpening its claws in the same meditative way Artoria polished her spoon.


    "Fine, fine. Well, kid? What''s up?"


    "I captured a mother ursaring and her cub," I told them. "The mother was heavily injured from a previous battle and went into a berserk rage until her cub found me and got me to help them. I patched up what I could with a super potion, but she''s literally on her last breaths."


    Ranger Steven''s eyes narrowed at that. I could spot recognition there. "Shit. Wheldon, think it''s the same mama bear?"


    His partner nodded slowly. "Maybe. Missing an arm?"


    I blinked in surprise. "Yeah, one eye too. How did you know?"


    "That alert? That was because some idiot from Unova lost control of his zweilous. It evolved into a hydreigon and went on a rampage in the whismur colony before that spilled over. The ursaring took offense and fought it but got mangled and ran. We heard about it and were following along until she tired herself out so we could treat her without her throwing a tantrum. She''s kind of a queen around these parts, you see."


    "Guess you did our job for us, kid," Steven said. He tossed his cigarette. "You say you have the cub too?"


    "Yes. He''s not injured much as far as I can tell, but I sprayed him down with a potion anyway."


    "Good call. You never know when you missed some internal bleeding. Pok¨¦mon are hardy, but not invincible, especially not cubs."


    Ranger Wheldon reached for another pok¨¦ball on his belt and released a roselia. "Here''s how it''s going to go. You''re going to release mama bear. If she''s up, I need you to stay in sight and try to calm her but don''t get too close. My Rosie here knows a move called Life Dew. It''s similar to a potion and can help patch up the worst of it, make sure nothing''s infected, that sort of thing."


    I nodded. I didn''t really trust my ability to provide first aid on that level anyway. "Yes, sir."


    "Then go ahead and let her out. At a distance." I did so. Thankfully, the ursaring had not woken up inside the pok¨¦ball. Rosie the roselia still doused her with a hefty dose of Sleep Powder, just in case. Wheldon let out a low whistle. "Yup. Those are dragon wounds alright. Not much else can rip up a mature ursaring like this."


    "Think she''ll make it, Wheldon?" Ranger Steven drawled. He sounded largely disinterested, but I could see the flickering concern in his aura.


    "We''ll make sure of it, right, Rosie?"


    "Roselia," the tiny rose pok¨¦mon nodded confidently.


    The two began to poke and prod the bear, taking stock of her many injuries. With some help from Ranger Steven''s two mightyena, they got her on her back. I was happy to see that the gash over her stomach had largely closed and that there was nothing poking out. The super potion did a lot of work.


    "You did good, kid," Ranger Wheldon told me. "You stopped a rampaging mama bear and stabilized her this much."


    "I didn''t stop her. If the teddiursa didn''t literally get in the way of her attack, she would have continued."


    "Either way, good job. We can take it from here if you''d like."


    ''What do you think, Artoria?'' I thought at her. ''Do you think we should leave the bears with them? The rangers will probably send them off to the pok¨¦mon center.''


    ''I would like to see this through, my lord. We took responsibility for their care,'' Artoria thought back with a frown.


    ''You''re right. We need to get back to the pok¨¦mon center anyway. I want to make sure nothing''s wrong with you or Jeanne after this.''


    "If you don''t mind, can we join you? We''d like to things through. I kind of need to go back to the center I think. Restock on potions for sure."


    "Of course you can. Steven''s got a claydol that can teleport us."


    We talked further while the roselia provided more emergency care to the ursaring. The rangers were remarkably high leveled for such a quiet place like Verdanturf. I found out that they''d been reassigned from Meteor Falls because they had experience with ornery dragons before.


    "Not that we''ll be the ones dealing with the hydreigon. We''re just on containment," Ranger Steven said. "Word is that Elite Drake will be called in to try and pacify the thing."


    "What happens if he can''t?" I asked.


    "Then he''s gotta put it down."


    "Can''t they find its pok¨¦ball?"


    "Sure, if they can find the original trainer''s body. He''s dead and body got lost in a cave-in. It''ll be dug up soon I imagine, but who knows if the pok¨¦ball still works?"


    Wheldon shot his partner a warning look. "Don''t worry too much about that, kid. Let Drake handle it. Worst comes to worst, he''ll likely beat it unconscious then wait for the pok¨¦ball before catching the hydreigon for himself."


    I nodded. "Yeah¡­"


    "Now, about your kirlia. I noticed you talk telepathically with her. That common?"


    "Yeah. Artoria''s been able to do it since she was a ralts."


    "Hoh? Pretty impressive. Most don''t start forming mental links until they''re stronger."


    Artoria flushed at the praise. It was so cute that I couldn''t resist reaching out and patting her head. "She''s something else."


    "You headed east then north?"


    "South to Oldale," I corrected.


    "You sure, kid? Petalburg Woods isn''t too dangerous, but the eastern side of the forest isn''t really watched by us much. It''s tamer, but it''s still the wilds."


    Ranger Steven grunted. "Let ''em be, Wheldon. He''s got a kirlia. He''ll probably be fine."


    I blinked. "Why would that leave me better off?"


    "There are four known covens in those woods. The rangers around these parts have friendly relations with them, though they''re fairly guarded. They''re much friendlier with people who already have a member of the ralts line, something about empathy and trust."


    "That makes sense. It''s good to know. Do you think those covens are worth looking for?"


    "Not a clue, kid. Not from around these parts, remember? You might want to look for them though. Who knows? Maybe they can teach your kirlia a thing or two."


    ''Speaking of learning new things, how do you feel about Life Dew, Artoria?'' I asked her. We watched the roselia flit to and fro as she generated some kind of clear water that shone with healing aura from her flowers. I saw Drew''s budew use it in his contest routine, but didn''t think much of it until now. ''I think it could come in handy in a lot of ways in the future, no?''


    ''It could,'' she admitted. ''I would not be opposed to learning such a beneficial skill.''


    I turned to Ranger Wheldon. The family library probably had instructions, but I figured another opinion was never bad to have. "Ranger Wheldon, how do I go about teaching Artoria Life Dew?"


    He looked a little surprised at that. "Hmm? You sure? Most pok¨¦mon trainers try to focus on being the best battler."


    Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    "I think tonight showed me just how dangerous that can be."


    "True enough. Give me your Pok¨¦Nav number. I''m going to send you some instructions, alright?"


    "Thank you so much."


    "Don''t mind it. It''s no trouble anyway."


    When Rosie the roselia finished, I balled the bear and Artoria temporarily. The two rangers withdrew their pok¨¦mon and Ranger Steven let out his claydol. The claydol was an anomaly to my burgeoning senses. Where the mightyena was a dark void, the claydol was a brilliant beacon of psychic power, easily greater than anything else I''d felt in these woods. Yet, despite being a psychic beacon, it was also almost wholly devoid of emotion, as though it were truly nothing more than a clay jar.


    "Ready, kid?" Ranger Steven asked.


    I nodded. "Yes, I''ve been teleported before."


    Then, the claydol''s psychic aura enveloped us and we were back in the pok¨¦mon center lobby. I shrugged off the mild discomfort with ease. Stronger pok¨¦mon like Alfonse or Quinn could teleport people without them even noticing, even mid-fight, but that took dedicated practice or a special knack for the skill. The claydol clearly hadn''t received that kind of training.


    The rest of the evening passed in a blur. All four of my pok¨¦balls went to the nurses, the ursaring to critical care and the others into general recovery. Rangers Wheldon and Steven were ushered elsewhere to report to command while an orderly gave me my room key. Exhaustion caught up to me after a hot shower and I sank into bed to sleep like the dead.


    X


    The first thing I did next morning was visit the medical wing to withdraw my pok¨¦mon. Despite my paranoia, neither Artoria nor Jeanne had taken any significant damage so they were returned to me without a fuss. I thanked the on-call orderly and released them immediately.


    "Hey, girls. How''re you feeling?" I asked with a smile.


    "Mareep!" Jeanne cried as she rammed my shin with her horns. "Ma! Mareep! Reep!"


    I looked to Artoria for explanation.


    ''She is upset that you returned her without warning. Then, she was let out somewhere different with the local chansey prodding at her and you were not there,'' Artoria dutifully translated.


    I winced, but decided to be truthful. I knelt on one knee so I could meet her eye-to-eye. "Sorry, Jeanne. I didn''t think you were in any state to listen to me and attacking the ursaring mother was only making her more mad."


    "Mareep?"


    ''She would like to know what happened.''


    "We''ll tell you all about it in a bit, okay? Let''s not hold the line too long." I turned back to the orderly. "How is the teddiursa?"


    He clicked through a few files on the computer before answering. "Your newly captured teddiursa is fine, sir. However, due to his mental state, he had to be sedated for his own good. I believe he is still sleeping. Would you like him back?"


    I considered it. My first response was to take the pok¨¦mon being offered; unplanned though it was, teddiursa could make a powerful addition to the roster. Then I kicked myself and reminded myself that I had to consider the pok¨¦mon''s intelligence. He was wild, but he wasn''t an animal.


    If I were in his shoes, if my mother fought off a dragon with her life on the line for me, ran through miles of forest for me, then almost died in a berserk rage for me¡­ I didn''t think I''d be able to cope with anything short of knowing that she was okay.


    "Can I take him to see the ursaring?"


    "No, I''m sorry sir, but the ursaring remains in critical condition. Some of the emergency care provided by yourself and Ranger Wheldon had to be undone to avoid her injuries from healing incorrectly," he said, then hastily added, "Not that your efforts aren''t appreciated. She''s alive because of you, but while closing over external wounds can keep someone from bleeding out, it can also present problems in the long-term."


    "I understand. When do you think she''ll be well enough to see her cub?"


    "Tomorrow morning. I believe the head nurse will be performing surgery today and she should be well enough to at least reassure the cub."


    "Can we keep the teddiursa asleep until then? I don''t want him to worry for days while we wait for the mother."


    "Of course. That is no issue at all."


    "Then please do so. Thank you so much."


    "It''s only our jobs to help pok¨¦mon."


    I wasn''t in the mood to eat in the canteen so I grabbed some granola and headed back to my room. I didn''t even have to pay for my stay, perks of a gym sponsorship. Jeanne trotted ahead and hopped onto my bed before snuggling into the blanket.


    "Mareep¡­"


    ''She says you smell nice, my lord¡­ Congratulations?''


    ''Sheep have an excellent sense of smell, Artoria. We smell like home to her.''


    ''Ah.''


    I took a seat next to my mareep and patted my lap for Artoria to join. We spent a few minutes cuddling on the bed. An ursaring wasn''t a battle we were prepared for and it was only hitting us now just what a miracle our survival was. I buried my face in Artoria''s green locks and ran my fingers through Jeanne''s wool to reassure myself that they were safe. "It was scary, wasn''t it?''


    "Maa¡­"


    "It''s okay. I was afraid too. You and Artoria were amazing."


    "Mareep¡­" she mumbled, her aura flickering into a depressed gray. "Ree¡­"


    "You acted instinctively," I told her. I felt her sink further into my pillow but allowed my fingers to give chase. "But that wasn''t a battle we could win. I was so, so scared I would lose one of you."


    "Mareep¡­" Uncertainty. Fear. Envy. Guilt. Ugly splotches colored her aura.


    "Yes, I was. You too, not just Artoria. It must feel lonely sometimes, knowing that Artoria and I can talk to each other but I can''t understand you. It''s okay. It''s natural to feel left out."


    "Mareep¡­"


    "It''s not your fault. I''ll grow stronger, just like you. One day, I''ll be a powerful psychic, strong enough to speak to you without Artoria''s help. I can''t wait."


    "Mareep?"


    I smiled bitterly. "Sorry, I didn''t understand."


    ''She wishes to know why you are not more angry,'' Artoria said. ''She believes that she almost got us all killed.''


    ''Ah, thank you.'' I turned back to my little lamb and rubbed an ear between my fingers. "I''m not mad because I understand panic. You didn''t think. You couldn''t think. And do you know how to fix that?"


    "Mareep?"


    "Grow stronger."


    "Reep."


    "It''s really that simple. If you panicked, that''s because you lost control. So, get stronger. Strong enough to master your fear. Strong enough to control yourself. Strong enough that you never have reason to panic again."


    "Mareep¡­" She turned to Artoria. "Maree-reep?"


    "Kirlia. Kir-kirlia," she nodded. When I looked at her in askance, she explained. ''She feels that contest routines are pretty, but not enough to make her strong. I have agreed to spar with her more often.''


    "That''s great. I''m glad you''re using this to push yourself further, Jeanne."


    "Mareep!"


    "That''s why I''m going to give you Shock Wave."


    "Reep?"


    "It''s an electric type move that Wattson gave me. Have you heard of it?"


    "Reep," she nodded.


    Figured, living amongst so many electric type pok¨¦mon, it would have been strange if she wasn''t at least familiar with the full gamut of moves available to her species. "You''ve mastered Thunder Shock far enough that I think something more advanced would be good. You up for it?"


    "Mareep!"


    X


    Despite having been an empath for thirteen years in this world, I could unreservedly admit that emotions weren''t really my strong suit. Sure, I could tell what people were feeling, but I sucked at giving pep talks, as Liza found out when she didn''t make the cut for her school play. With dad being largely absentee and mom being about as emotive as a rock, I didn''t exactly learn better coping mechanisms than those I carried over from my past life.


    Which was to say, I hit things with a stick. It was what I did; pretty it up with whatever words you like, but in the end, I was just a guy good at swinging a stick around. When I was pissed, I hit a dummy. When I was sad, I hit a dummy. When I was happy, I hit a dummy with celebratory vigor. Dummy-abuse was more or less my coping strategy for¡­ everything, really.


    That was how we found ourselves back at the Verdanturf pok¨¦mon center''s backyard battlefield.


    In hindsight, perhaps Artoria''s training-nut behavior wasn''t entirely her own doing¡­


    I briefly returned Jeanne so I could hook her pok¨¦ball up to the TM disk. A minute later, my Pok¨¦Nav beeped to let me know the download had finished. Truly, internet connectivity was a marvelous thing. With a flick of my wrist, I let Jeanne out again.


    "What do you think? Can you use Shock Wave for me?"


    "Mareep!" she cheered, raising her hooves to the sun. Then, as if to prove her newfound dedication, she let out another cry and filled the field with light. The terribly named move was the electric type equivalent of Swift, a move that''d never miss.


    In reality, the attack used the unique electromagnetic signature of the opponent to grant a homing effect. It could be evaded, should an opponent be fast enough. Hell, there was a video of Wattson''s manectric usurping control over someone else''s Shock Wave by flexing its mastery of electromagnetic waves.


    Without a target to home in on, Jeanne''s Shock Wave looked remarkably like an empowered Thunder Shock at first glance, but I could tell from the elated aura around my sheep that she had used the move correctly.


    "Good job, Jeanne," I told her, offering her a dried berry for positive reinforcement. "We''re going to work on locking on to electromagnetic signatures next, okay? After that, we''ll work up to being able to hit a target even when it''s behind something else."


    "Mareep!" she nodded resolutely. It was an expression I hadn''t expected of her.


    I next turned to Artoria. ''The TM is reusable and I know you can learn it, but I''d rather you work on other things for now.''


    ''Understood, my lord. I have no interest in the ranged attack anyway,'' I heard with a shrug. ''What shall I be working on next?''


    ''I''m going to give you two choices actually. You can either work on improving your psychic constructs by learning Reflect and Light Screen as was my original plan for you, or you can work on your healing abilities by learning Life Dew since we got a firsthand demonstration of how useful it can be from Ranger Wheldon. Both paths have great supplemental value and I want you to learn both eventually, but you should decide where you want to focus for now.''


    ''I¡­ I do not know. Should I master Reflect and Light Screen, I should be capable of extending the length of my blade, countering attacks before they have the chance to hurt anyone. But I also know that healing is a valuable and noble art¡­''


    ''You''re going to want to learn both so just go with what you want in the moment,'' I advised her. Those three moves weren''t all I wanted to teach her. I wanted her to learn Lucky Chant, Calm Mind, Disable, Ally Switch, Misty Terrain, and Heal Pulse on the support side, as well as Magical Leaf, Thunderbolt, Icy Wind, and Will-O-Wisp on the offensive side so she could eventually form elemental blades. The possibility of spreading herself too thin was a real danger for gardevoir simply because they could learn such a large variety of moves.


    ''Then I wish to begin with the barrier arts, my lord.''


    ''That''s fine. A part of me thought you''d go for Life Dew though.''


    ''It is useful, but¡­ my ultimately passion is the blade. If I can learn to keep my loved ones from being harmed, then I wish to do so over merely mending the tragedies of the past.''


    ''Proactive, huh? That''s fine. Actually, that might work out better in this case. I have a few ideas for joint training exercises. You know the theory?''


    ''Yes, my lord. Mother is fond of the barrier arts and I learned at her side.''


    ''Makes sense, Alice is the shield to Quinn''s spear. Go ahead and practice that while I work with Jeanne. Come back when you have the basics down, okay?''


    ''As you bid.''


    Artoria ambled off somewhere she wouldn''t be disturbed. I looked back to an impatiently waiting Jeanne. I gave her an affectionate headpat and pointed at a tree near the far end of the field. "Okay, just you and me, Jeanne. Think you can target that tree over there?"


    "Mareep," she bleated confidently.


    "Great. Go ahead."


    A Shock Wave lanced out but I could see it visibly fizzling thanks to the distance. Disappointing, but expected. I had her move a little closer then had her hit the tree from different angles and firing vectors, forcing her to rely on the homing properties of the move.


    By the end of the training session, Jeanne turned the bark into a scorched mess. We moved on to smaller targets in the form of berries I threw into the air. The scorched berries were excellent rewards for the eager mareep.


    Author''s Note


    The budew line learns Life Dew as an egg move. I thought it was a good chance to introduce the technique to Artoria.


    Thank you for reading. To reach a wider audience, and because I enjoy a more forum-like setup to facilitate discussion, I like to crosspost to a wide variety of websites. You can find them all on my Link Tree: https://linktr.ee/fabled.webs.</a>

 2.11 Salad

    Salad 2.11


    Aaron Fulan


    Verdanturf Town, Hoenn Region


    The very next day found us circled around the teddiursa''s pok¨¦ball. I received word that the ursaring was stable and would be brought out of anesthesia so I took the cub''s ball and intended to introduce him to the team.


    Truthfully, I wasn''t counting on being able to keep him. I wanted to, by Arceus I wanted to. I even remembered how to evolve an ursaring. To be the first in the modern age to have an ursaluna¡­ But¡­ But he had a home and a mother. I doubted she''d part with him easily. And then there was Jeanne''s prey response towards the mother bear.


    I schooled my expression and picked up the pok¨¦ball. If Artoria had any idea about my thoughts, she showed no sign of it. "Are you ready to meet him?"


    "Mareep."


    "Kirlia."


    Agitated sparks danced along Jeanne''s wool. Artoria''s grip on the spoon tightened.


    "No. We''re not fighting him. He''s just a cub worried about his mom."


    Slowly, they dropped out of their aggressive postures. ''My apologies, my lord. It is unbecoming of me. There is a distinction between caution and letting fear rule me.''


    ''You''re right. You''re the one who talked me into helping them, remember? Give them the chance they deserve.''


    ''Indeed¡­''


    The teddiursa emerged in a beam of light, still asleep. Like this, lying on the grass with his head buried in his paws and his crescent moon marking peaking out, I could almost forget about the terrible rage of his mother.


    We sat there, waiting. I placed a hand on Jeanne''s back and felt her slowly start to relax her body. Minutes later, the bear opened his eyes and sat up with a jaw-popping yawn, displaying his large canines to the world. Then, his surroundings finally registered and he startled straight. That got Jeanne on edge too, but Artoria placed her spoon on her head and nudged her back.


    "Hey there, hope you slept well," I said. I immediately felt stupid saying that, but I didn''t know what else to say.


    "Teddi?"


    "I''m the one who found you and your mom."


    At the mention of his mother, his whole body tensed. "Teddiursa!"


    "Would you like to go see your mom?"


    "Ursa!"


    "Okay, sure. Let''s go see if she''s awake."


    We walked back inside. The cub rushed ahead and began to claw at the receptionist''s desk, shouting his name all the while. It would have been cute if I didn''t know the reason why.


    "Hello, I spoke with the teddiursa and would like to let him see his mother," I told the orderly.


    "That''s no problem. She''s still asleep, but we expect her to wake up within the hour," he replied.


    The four of us were led to a room where the mama bear was placed on a comfortable looking mattress. It struck me just how large the ursaring was in better lighting. Had she been standing on two legs, she would have stood a good seven feet tall. Even splayed on her front as she was, her sheer size made my hairs stand on end. The gruesome scar over her eye, clearly still tender, wasn''t doing any favors.


    I swallowed. This was an apex predator around these parts, a bear who, even on her last legs, could fire off back-to-back Hyper Beams like spitballs. Having seen her power firsthand, being in the same room as her, even asleep, made me nervous.


    I didn''t get much longer to collect myself because the teddiursa rushed to his mother with all the urgency of a child.


    "TEDDIURSA!" he cried, throwing his body into her fur. That did as much to rouse her as the anesthetics wearing off. Her eyes snapped open at the sound of her cub.


    "Ursaring?"


    "Teddi!"


    "Uuu¡­?"


    "Teddi. Teddiursa!"


    Jeanne, Artoria, a nurse, and I watched awkwardly as the mother conversed with her cub. Not understanding the conversation didn''t exactly help in that regard.


    ''Shall I translate?''


    ''No, that''s fine, Artoria. I don''t need to hear everything.''


    ''As you wish.''


    Eventually, the two stopped talking and the bear''s attention fell on us. On me specifically. She fixed me with a gimlet eye. Around her was a cocktail of emotions. There was general distrust and contempt, but also a modicum of respect brought on by gratitude.


    "Ursaring," she stated flatly.


    "Kirlia, kir," Artoria said in response. The bear just let out a dismissive huff and laid her head down again.


    ''Artoria?''


    ''She said she shall refrain from eating us as a favor. What an ungrateful savage.''


    ''Lovely,'' I drawled mentally. To the bear, I said, "You''re in the pok¨¦mon center."


    She let out a disdainful chuff as if to say, "No fucking shit."


    "I''m going to give yours and the cub''s pok¨¦balls to the nurses. They''ll turn you over to the rangers after you recover. After that, they''ll probably release you back into the forest so you can do your own thing."


    "Ursaring."


    "I''m going to assume that means you understand¡­"


    "Teddiursa," the cub whined. The mother bear, to my surprise, looked somewhat chastened and let out a more contrite growl.


    ''Figures. The cub has better manners than the mother,'' Artoria scoffed.


    ''Not a fan of the bear, huh?''


    ''I am not. She is rude, belligerent, and ungrateful. She keeps referring to Jeanne as "fluffy snack" and me as "bony snack!"''


    I let out a snort of laughter. ''Okay, that''s awful¡­''


    ''I can feel your amusement, my lord. I do not appreciate your humor.''


    ''Sorry, sorry. What does she call me?''


    ''"Snack dispenser,"'' Artoria said in my mind. I could hear the smug satisfaction at my reaction. ''Tis not as funny now, is it?''


    ''Point.''


    ''All trainers are "snack dispensers" to her.''


    ''Pok¨¦mon choose to embrace human society to differing levels.''


    ''Indeed¡­ It is my first time meeting one so¡­ dismissive.''


    ''Same here. But we should accept that this is normal, especially among powerful wild pok¨¦mon. The further we go into the wilds, the more like her we will find.''


    ''As you say, my lord.''


    The rest of the encounter, if it could be called that, passed with little of substance. The nurses were strongarmed into letting the bear cub remain by his mother''s side and Artoria, Jeanne, and I returned to our training. Despite the less than warm reception from the ursaring, Artoria wished to remain in Verdanturf long enough to see her handed off to the rangers.


    Or perhaps, it was because she trusted the ursaring so little. She felt responsible for the actions of the wild bear and I knew that should the ursaring choose to rampage in the pok¨¦mon center, she would be the first in line to try and stop her, no matter how outmatched she might be.


    All that meant on my end was that I had the chance to dedicate our time to training without having to worry about the rigors of travel.


    "Artoria, how do you feel about Light Screen now?" I asked. "Do you think you can use it with some confidence?"


    She mulled the question in her head then nodded slowly. ''I do not consider it combat-ready, my lord, but I can generate a repelling barrier with some effort.''


    ''Not combat-ready because it''s slow or because the barrier is weak?''


    ''Both? I am dissatisfied with its speed and wish to use it to coat only my spoon so that I can remain mobile instead of hiding behind a wall. As you have taught me, to defend is to lose initiative and that is no way for a swordsman to do battle.''


    ''An excellent idea.'' I clapped my hands and addressed both my pok¨¦mon. "Okay, here''s what we''re doing: Artoria, you will ready a Light Screen. Jeanne, you will use Artoria''s electromagnetic signature to try and hit her with Shock Wave. Artoria can dodge or parry using Light Screen."


    I received enthusiastic consent, competition always a good way to motivate them. While they were off doing their impression of a batting cage mixed with dodgeball, I settled down on the bleachers to give mom a call. As per usual, the Pok¨¦Nav didn''t get the chance to ring even once.


    "Hello, Aaron."


    "Hey, mom. I''m calling to tell Alfonse thank you. The disturbance he felt was apparently a newly evolved hydreigon."


    "I''ve gathered," she said stoically. "Alfonse and I witnessed the rampage mere minutes after its evolution."


    "Miracle Eye?"


    "Indeed."


    "Please don''t tell me you made the twins watch that."


    "Of course not. They are young yet. Seeing the savagery of a powerful dragon will overly stress them and hamper their growth."


    I breathed out a sigh of relief. "At least you have that much sense¡­"


    "I do not delight in being needlessly cruel, Aaron."


    "So, what happened to the hydreigon?"


    "Drake put it out of its misery. Its trainer is also dead, the first of several casualties."


    "Oh¡­"


    "Indeed. Do you still intend to cut south to Oldale?"


    If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    "I do. Should I not?"


    "Do as you please. The forest should be within your abilities to navigate. Your sponsorship stipend has been deposited into your account."


    "Thanks, mom. I''ll be sure to stock up before I head out."


    We were silent for a long minute as we tried to find a topic to talk about. Me, I was wondering what I could say that she didn''t already know. It wasn''t as though I could ask about Caitlin so soon after demanding a larvesta; those things were damn rare. Mom, I had no clue. The silence meant little to her and I heard from dad that she used to take "pregnant pause" to mean something more literal.


    She frowned. "You are thinking something unflattering about me."


    "I''m just remembering dad''s stories about you when you two dated."


    "We did not date. We courted."


    I rolled my eyes. "Of course, mother. When you were courting."


    "Was that all?"


    "Yes, mother. Have a good day."


    "You as well," she replied. Then, "Aaron?"


    "Yes, mother?"


    "I am¡­ pleased that you remain well," she said before cutting the call.


    I chuckled. At this point, mom''s stoic social awkwardness was almost funny. I put it out of mind and began flipping through the Mauville Examiner''s official website. Thought they began as a newspaper in Mauville, they, much like the New York Times in my old world, embraced the newfangled internet revolution as more than a fad.


    It was about what I expected. The Rusturf Tunnel collapse was reported on, but they stuck to the publicly available facts: There was a hydreigon. Drake was forced to kill it because it was already captured and the pok¨¦ball could not be found in time. The exploud going on a rampage also killed dozens of other wild pok¨¦mon and a handful of trainers who were either extremely unlucky or too brave (stupid) to listen to rangers. There were no mentions of the ursaring, not that I expected any.


    At the very bottom, I found an opinion piece concerning the collapse. The trainer, one Sean Anders, was a sponsored trainer of Drayden Shaga, gym leader of Opelucid City, which explained his access to a zweilous. He had already finished his first gym circuit in Unova and was exploring other regions. I wondered how someone trained by Drayden could lose control of a dragon so catastrophically.


    The author made some predictions about how Anders'' death might affect Hoenn-Unova relations. Though it was a tragic accident, fact remained that it resulted in the deaths of several Hoenn citizens and greatly disturbed local wildlife. That an Elite needed to be called in didn''t help matters. At the bare minimum, he predicted that there would be a public apology from Drayden. In the worst case scenario, it could raise questions about the competence of Unova''s top eight gyms and strain relationships just before the start of the PWT.


    I sincerely hoped he was wrong. I didn''t care much for politics one way or the other, but grabbing a larvesta for myself would become infinitely harder if that became the case. I wanted my adorable arson-moth, damnit¡­


    X


    They told me that it would take about two days for things to settle down long enough to hand off the ursaring to the rangers. That gave the ursaring plenty of time for bedrest and us to jumpstart our training.


    The teddiursa, no matter how worried, couldn''t spend all his time in her room. Once he was assured of her wellbeing and that he could find his way to her room, the childish curiosity took over and he began to explore the pok¨¦mon center. Given his sense of smell, it shouldn''t have been a surprise that he found his way to us out back.


    I felt his mind approach, brimming with curiosity. I opened my eyes and turned to face him. "Hello, teddiursa. How are you?"


    He tilted his head to the side. He gestured to his mother''s room and I saw his aura burst in a corona of purple and yellow. Love. Fear. "Teddiursa¡­ Teddi¡­"


    "You''re worried about her?"


    "Teddi¡­"


    "Don''t worry. The nurses are well-trained and they have more of the medicine I used on your mom," I said with a reassuring smile.


    "Ursa?"


    "Sorry, I didn''t understand."


    He grumbled and gestured to his arm then pointed to his eye. "Ursa. Teddi. Teddiursa."


    "Can they regrow her arm? Eye?"


    "Teddi."


    "I''m sorry, I don''t really know," I said truthfully. "I wish I could tell you."


    Pok¨¦mon medicine was incredibly advanced thanks to the abundance of healing moves and berries that may as well have been magic to anyone in my old world. Could they regrow limbs? Maybe. What about eyes? They were some of the most advanced machines in existence, organic or no. Even if they could, would they? Potions were expensive, 150 LC even with my sponsorship discount. I couldn''t even imagine what the cost would look like for such an advanced treatment.


    I wanted to believe that they would, that this world was a brighter, kinder place than my own, but I grew up in America. Exorbitant, exploitative medical bills were the norm, not the exception. I didn''t want to raise his hopes needlessly over a treatment I didn''t eve know was possible.


    "Teddi¡­" he slumped dejectedly.


    "She''ll recover. She''s incredibly strong. Wasn''t she the queen of the forest or something?"


    "Teddi!" he nodded. "Teddi-teddiursa. Teddiursa. Teddi."


    I allowed him to ramble on. I didn''t understand exactly what he was saying, but it wasn''t so hard to tell that he was bragging about his mother. Love and pride replaced fear and worry as he let out an adorable roar, miming a Hyper Beam. He slashed the air and mimed taking a big bite out of some imaginary opponent. It was plain to see that she was his hero, his measuring stick.


    Soon enough, he wore himself out and started to look for something to entertain himself with. He focused on Jeanne and Artoria practicing.


    Jeanne''s Shock Wave lacked the oomph I would have liked, but she could now snap them off as quickly as a regular Thunder Shock and in short bursts. Power would come in time, most likely with her impending evolution. Now, I wanted her to be able to lock on to an electromagnetic signature then switch to another quickly. In my head, I imagined it being akin to a point-defense laser system so often seen in sci-fi space operas.


    Meanwhile, Artoria took to coating her spoon with Light Screen, just so she could better slap energy projectiles away. Next, I wanted her to "paint" with it, creating barriers by tracing the width of the spoon along the air. She could do it, but it was still very much a work in progress.


    Their "batting practice" similarly evolved. Behind Artoria, I set up a series of colored targets. I would randomly call out a color for Jeanne to focus on. Artoria''s goal was then to "paint" a wall between the Shock Wave and the target, while Jeanne would try to lock on and hit the target as quickly as possible. It looked more like a goalie keeping the goal safe than batting practice now.


    Jeanne let out an arc of electricity that seemed to curve in midair, zeroing in on a red paper target taped to a tree.


    Artoria crossed the field with Mana Burst, and with a spoon gleaming a light-blue, caught the attack. She made a corkscrew motion with her spoon and tossed the attack into the ground.


    "Blue," I called.


    Jeanne switched targets immediately. Instead of a single arc, she Charged for a second before launching four projectiles into the air, all in separate directions. They self-corrected their aim.


    Artoria was forced to teleport in front of the target to defend it in time. She fell into a kendo stance and flowed from form to form. Every stroke left behind a river of light that persisted for two or three seconds before fading away. Not long, but long enough to become obstacles for Jeanne''s Shock Waves.


    She caught the first in a Light Screen curtain before slapping the second away with the back of her spoon. She winced as the shock ran through the metal but fought through the pain to cut the third in half, aura doing weird things sometimes, but was unable to guard against the fourth.


    "Jeanne wins the round," I shouted.


    "Mareep!" my little lamb cheered. She did a little butt-wiggle before raising her hooves towards the sun.


    Artoria huffed, more amused than angry at her friend''s victory dance. ''She had a TM. I started from the beginning.''


    ''You did,'' I acknowledged. ''But you grew up with an in-depth knowledge of psychic energy. I doubt the ampharos who led Jeanne''s old flock was nearly as capable as Quinn or Alice.''


    ''That is true.''


    ''No excuses. Be happy for your friend.''


    ''You are right, my lord. That was unknightly of me. I shall simply work even harder.''


    I let out a mental chuckle. ''Be sure to rest while you do.''


    "Teddiursa!" the bear cub cheered, drawing our attention. "Teddi?"


    ''The young cub says the fluffy snack is very shiny,'' Artoria said wryly. ''I see he has learned no manners from his mother.''


    ''Don''t be like that. I don''t think he means to be insulting.''


    ''It is still not good that he thinks of us as food items.''


    ''Point.''


    Artoria chided the bear cub. I remained looped into the conversation, at least on her end. She told him that trained pok¨¦mon were not food because they could get more powerful without having to hunt. She then began to extoll the virtues of chivalry and knighthood, swinging her spoon around in her excitement.


    The teddiursa grinned mischievously. "Teddi."


    ''Why you!''


    ''What''d he say?''


    ''He said, "Knights are just food with wrappers. Aren''t they the same as fruit?" the brat.''


    ''Artoria, you can''t get upset at every insult. I think talking to him is good for you. It''ll improve your control if nothing else.''


    She looked like she sucked on a lemon but said something back to the teddiursa. He just crossed his arms and stuck out his tongue. Where he learned the gesture, I''ll never know. ''And now he keeps calling me "meat-fruit!"''


    ''Let it go. Be the mature one.''


    ''Hmph, I''ll be able to defeat the mother bear in a year anyway.''


    ''A year, hmm?''


    ''I will evolve eventually. Then we shall see if a bear can match a knight. Roast bear has graced many a castle dining table.''


    I let them bicker for a while longer before I determined that my pok¨¦mon had rested enough. I brought my hands together in a loud clap before standing up. "Okay, I think that''s enough techniques training for the day. Suicides. Ten reps of five. Go!"


    I put words to action and began running. My pok¨¦mon grumbled but didn''t hesitate to join me. To my surprise, on my second set, the bear joined in as well. He started on two legs but soon gave it up as a bad job and fell to four. I was happy to see that for what little it was worth, even Jeanne was much faster.


    I wasn''t the only one who noticed. Jeanne lapped him and sent him a confident smirk as she ran by. "Mareep."


    "Teddi!" he grunted back what I was certain was an insult.


    That did it. The two were lost to the world. Their rivalry took over and I watched as Jeanne threw herself into the competition in a way she''d never done before with Artoria. I personally ran out of steam, but stood on the sidelines, yelling encouragement. When they were done with that and Jeanne praised the sun in her victory, I had them compete in more physical contests. Distance running. Tug of war. Everything I could think of.


    Seeing that the goal of this workout session had changed somewhat, Artoria picked up a large stick, several times heavier than her silver spoon, and began to go through her kendo forms. Evolution had improved her physique, but not by much, and she needed constant conditioning to train her body in ways fighting types never required.


    ''Why are you encouraging them, my lord?'' she asked. I allowed myself to sink into the bond and sent over images of kendo kata so she had a reference to work from.


    ''Jeanne needs this.''


    ''To win?''


    ''To have tangible proof that our training isn''t for nothing. She needs proof that with enough training, she can overturn the predator-prey dynamic that dictated her life in the wild. She needs to know how far she''s come.''


    ''She acquitted herself well during the contest.''


    ''She did, but that wasn''t enough. She didn''t win.''


    ''I see. You are trying to bolster her confidence while getting her to overcome her fears using the cub as an outlet.''


    ''Exactly.''


    ''My lord is cunning.''


    ''My kirlia is adorable. Tuck in your toes. Your sword will lose power if you don''t commit with your whole body.''


    ''Yes, my lord.''


    X


    The days passed in a blur. Reality slapped us in the face with a dead magikarp and we used the indignation to motivate us forward in leaps and bounds, out of pure spite if nothing else. All three of us grew in our own ways, faster than we had before.


    As for me, I was determined to improve my psychic detection. I couldn''t afford to rely on Artoria to carry me through and, in the same way Tate and Liza reinforced one another''s abilities, I would be able to lend her my strength, amplifying her already potent abilities. Had I been stronger, had I had been more skilled, could Artoria have detected the ursaring and avoided this mess altogether?


    Then again, that would have meant death for the ursaring and orphanhood for the teddiursa. I pondered the moral question but I knew deep inside I''d have chosen to avoid them altogether had I had the option. I was no hero motivated by altruism and boundless courage. I''d have left the ursaring to die a thousand times over if it meant my team could avoid such a lopsided fight.


    I spent much of my free time in meditation. It didn''t take long for Jeanne''s mind to become familiar. Soon enough, I could detect her mind and discern basic emotions even while she was in the field and I in the pok¨¦mon center.


    I achieved a bit of a breakthrough after that. I quickly took to studying the minds of those around me. Nurses and patients, humans and pok¨¦mon, by comparing the two, I became adept at telling the difference between the minds of humans and pok¨¦mon.


    It was a matter of perspective. Human minds placed a premium on structured thoughts. They tried to put words to even the more nebulous emotions and impressions, give shape to what is formless. In comparison, pok¨¦mon were far more instinctive. Not dumb, but comfortable with their state of being. Most didn''t bother to reign in their emotions in the way humans did.


    Simply being able to identify humans and pok¨¦mon at a distance and read their emotional impressions could potentially save our lives. Was a pok¨¦mon met in the wilds truly wild? How aggressive was it? What were the intentions of a stranger?


    Soon enough, it was time for the teddiursa and ursaring to leave. I stood alongside my pok¨¦mon, a nurse, and Rangers Wheldon and Steven. Across from us stood the teddiursa and ursaring, still proud and grouchy despite the missing eye and arm. She looked at me with marginally less hostility as I held out their pok¨¦balls.


    Ranger Wheldon took them. They would be responsible for taking the bears back to the wilds. From what he told me, they intended to find the mother an unclaimed grotto or cave. A part of me wanted to ask the teddiursa to come with me. He was decently strong and showed a determination to get stronger, but every time I tried to say something, the words died in my throat.


    The past few days taught me that he and Jeanne just wouldn''t mesh. I was happy fueling their rivalry because I knew we''d part ways soon. If I brought him along, that rivalry might turn to friendship and grudging respect yes, but it was far more likely to sour into bitterness and resentment.


    ''I think you''re making the right choice, my lord,'' Artoria said.


    ''I hope so. An ursaluna¡­''


    ''There will be other potential teammates. Other bear cubs if you really wish for one.''


    ''You mean one that doesn''t call you "meat-fruit?"'' I teased.


    ''Savages,'' she grumbled.


    ''Yeah, you''re right, Artoria. There will be other chances. It still leaves me feeling a bit dissatisfied though.''


    We watched as Ranger Wheldon returned the two pok¨¦mon and vanished in another teleport courtesy of Ranger Steven''s claydol. With that, our obligations in Verdanturf were complete. "Come on, girls," I said. "Let''s go shopping. We''ve got a long stay in the forest to look forward to."


    Author''s Note


    Not much to say, so have an animal fact: Sea cucumbers have an all-purpose opening that doubles as both a mouth and anus. There is a type of fish called a pearlfish that lives inside of sea cucumbers. They enter when the sea cucumber inhales, which they do by flexing their anus. Imagine something proportionally the size of your forearm. Now imagine it wriggling up your ass.


    You''re welcome.


    Thank you for reading. To reach a wider audience, and because I enjoy a more forum-like setup to facilitate discussion, I like to crosspost to a wide variety of websites. You can find them all on my Link Tree: https://linktr.ee/fabled.webs.</a>

 2.12 Salad

    Salad 2.12


    Aaron Fulan


    Petalburg Woods, Hoenn Region


    After seeing the teddiursa and ursaring off, the three of us stocked up on supplies and headed south for Oldale. The entire woods stretching from between Petalburg and Rustboro all the way east to Oldale and Verdanturf was called the Petalburg Woods, or more officially, the Hoenn Regional Forest Reserve. There wasn''t some deep historical reason for it like with the Dragon''s Lament; it just so happened that the chief ranger station with oversight of the woods was located in Petalburg. There were other ranger stations of course, but it was ultimately Norman Maple who did the most to care for the forest.


    We were doing our best to scan the forest while we walked. Our constant scan was how we came to learn about the teleportation patterns of the natu flock and several lone abra that inhabited the woods directly south of Verdanturf. They kept pinging as false positives.


    The natu were a small flock of eighteen overseen by a pair of xatu. Together, the adults would teleport the young ones from harm all the while rotating through a series of groves for nuts, berries, and even the occasional weedle or caterpie. After exchanging pings several times in the next few days, one of the leading xatu finally stopped avoiding us long enough to spare us a conversation.


    We had found a cluster of psychic aura nodes at about two in the afternoon. We considered writing them off as the flock but couldn''t discount the possibility that they were a group of ralts and that one of the signals was the gardevoirite. Then, as we neared, something brushed our minds.


    It was an alien presence, though not completely unfamiliar. The xatu''s mind was not unintelligent, far from it, but it was immediately evident to me that it had different concerns from those of humans or even trained pok¨¦mon. It was also a gentle brush, a tap on the shoulder rather than a forceful grab.


    Artoria and I considered the situation a moment then opened our connection to a third for the first time. He, for it was unmistakably a he, melded seamlessly with us, proof of a mature psychic. His mind felt "feathery," a completely nonsensical explanation for something with no tangible substance, but that was the best way I could phrase it. There was something undeniably xatu about the connection that was absent in either myself or my kirlia. I wondered if he felt a distinct impression of us as we did him and what we must feel like in that case.


    ''Greetings, wanderer. Why do continue to you seek us?'' he asked. His mental voice was rich and deep, with a hint of a crooning trill that was hard to put to words.


    ''Are you the xatu flock?'' I asked though I knew the answer. ''I apologize for intruding. Again. You''re not who we''re looking for.''


    ''We were. And are. And will be. Your constant visit will not change us into what you seek.'' There was humor there, but also a hefty dose of dry sarcasm and irritation. ''What do you seek that has you opening your mind so?''


    I decided to just be honest. It wasn''t like a mega stone was useful to a xatu. If a mature xatu did not have a human partner, it was because he did not want one. Not every pok¨¦mon was dedicated to growing stronger. ''A mega stone. I have reason to believe my kirlia can sense the psychic presence from one.''


    ''If you have any inclination of its location, farseeing one, please guide us. My lord and I would be in your debt,'' Artoria intoned respectfully.


    The xatu hummed and trilled. It was not her sincerity he doubted, lying was far more difficult with our minds connected like this. Just as he was unsure of what aid he could or should provide, I was unsure of what aid we could expect. Though the natu line were especially attuned to the Sight, they were not exempt from the rule: mega stones, like many relics, could not be observed through divination.


    ''I must disappoint you, gallant one. I have no knowledge of a "mega stone," nor of its potential location.''


    I felt Artoria preen at his nickname for her. His answer was somewhat disappointing, but not unexpected. ''My apologies then,'' I said. ''We will be on our way without disturbing the natu.''


    ''A human who does not wish to capture our kind is a rarity. There are some who might consider leaving the flock to follow another with the Gift.''


    ''Are you saying you''d let me talk to them?''


    ''My mate and I are in agreement. You mean no ill will and any who go with you will grow immensely. There are those of us who would not be opposed to such power.''


    ''Thank you. That''s flattering coming from a seer like you, but I must decline. Can I instead ask you for any information on ralts covens in the forest?''


    ''Hoh? Do you seek a mate for the gallant one?''


    ''He does not,'' Artoria interjected firmly. I saw her body gain a full-body flush. Jeanne bleated and nudged my shin before shrugging and nibbling on some shoots she found by my feet. I reached down to scratch her ears absently.


    ''A mega stone is an item of immense power unique to each species. It can allow a pok¨¦mon to transcend their natural limits for a short time by drawing on the bond between pok¨¦mon and trainer. The gardevoirite, one of two mega stones unique to the ralts line, is somewhere in this forest and we are looking for it,'' I explained.


    ''Thus you wish to meet others of her kind in the hopes that they are guarding it or know of its location,'' he finished for me. ''Once again I must disappoint you, wanderer. Though my mate and I see far, there are many things that elude us yet. Both the influence of a relic of such power and the actions of other powerful psychics such as the coven leaders can be listed amongst their number. There are several gardevoir and gallade we know of, but they, like our flock, come and go as they please. I suspect that they will find you on their own time.''


    ''Thank you, that alone is good information. I appreciate you bothering to talk to us at all.''


    ''It is no matter. Rare is it for a human to be interesting enough to converse with. More often than not, such talks devolve into an attempt to capture myself or my mate, attempts we discourage thoroughly.''


    ''I understand. Thank you again and goodbye.''


    That conversation with the xatu was something of a novelty. The several abra we met were far less willing to entertain us, often teleporting away as soon as they sensed us coming. Even the one we''d first met that seemed open to joining a team left when he found out I wasn''t interested in an abra, too narcoleptic. On the plus side, that meant we wasted little time with them.


    X


    Then, four days into our search, we found it, the gardevoirite. It came completely out of left field, not because we weren''t looking for it, but because Artoria and I had received so many false positives by this point that our expectations were thoroughly shattered.


    I wasn''t sure what I was expecting. Maybe some kind of shrine like the one dedicated to Celebi in Ilex Forest in Johto? Or perhaps an immensely powerful and ancient gardevoir hermit who was once partner to a great hero and now dedicated her life to the protection of the mega stone and the search for a worthy heir? I didn''t know, but it sure as hell wasn''t a nondescript grove two miles away from an officially designated hiking trail. In fact, if we made a beeline straight for Verdanturf, we could be back in the pok¨¦mon center in two days, three at most; the grove was only twenty-eight miles away at the furthest estimate. It was¡­ anticlimactic.


    ''You did say the mega stone was nearby, my lord,'' Artoria pointed out. ''Should we not be grateful for our fortune?''


    ''You''re right, Artoria,'' I said. ''I guess after scanning the town, the mess with the ursaring, and then repeatedly pinging the same pack of natu for four days, I just kind of assumed there would be some final challenge waiting for me.''


    ''Another one of these "tropes" you are so fond of, my lord?''


    ''Kinda? Usually, items of great power don''t just fall into your lap. The heroes have to go out of their way and overcome great struggle to find them.''


    ''Perhaps, but are we not out of the way? You specifically chose to cut through this forest despite the lack of any official route knowing the stone was somewhere nearby. Who else would know to come here? Who else would bring a psychic specifically for the purpose of locating a mega stone? You underestimate the value of information, inexact though your memories may be.''


    ''You''re right as usual.''


    ''Hmph, of course I am. I suppose you can fabricate some suitably splendid tale about how I slew a fearsome dragon and proved myself a worthy knight if it pleases you.''


    ''Oh? Dame Artoria singlehandedly slew an evil dragon with her splendid spoon to acquire the priceless treasure? And pray tell, what are Jeanne and I doing in this legend of yours?''


    ''Committing my gallant visage to memory for posterity of course,'' she said with a musical laugh.


    ''Of course, what was I thinking, oh great dragonslayer?''


    I smiled as I took Jeanne in my arms. It took us a bit of time to pinpoint the exact location within the grove. The gardevoirite wasn''t in some sacred shrine or ancient tree hollow. It was half-buried in detritus beneath a rotting log. Just about the only pok¨¦mon around were a trio of shroomish and a paras that were far more interested in eating the slowly decomposing plant matter than the mega stone. But, nonetheless, we found it, the dirt unable to hide its psychic and eldritch radiance from my kirlia.


    "Go on," I voiced aloud. "I don''t want to make a pageant out of this, but I feel like you should be the one to pick it up. This is your moment."


    "Kirlia¡­" she mumbled.


    "Mareep? Maa?"


    "Kir-kirlia."


    "Mareep," Jeanne bleated with what I assumed was an encouraging nod. She gently shoved her friend forward with a nudge of her horns.


    Artoria stood a mere four feet from the gardevoirite then froze as she basked in the blend of fae and psychic aura emitting from the stone. I could only feel it vicariously through her, but the immense awe and reverence she felt for it could not be overstated.


    Which was a bit of a quandary because on my end, I felt nothing. It felt no more psychically powerful than any other signature. Dull. Average. Utterly and unrepentantly mediocre. And yet, I knew of course that it was as far from average as could be. What was it about the stone that only Artoria could feel? Was this true of all mega stones? A gravitas that only a member of the applicable species could sense?


    Or was I just that lacking?


    ''It is not psychic aura alone, my lord. You are not lacking in sensory abilities. It is¡­ difficult to explain, for I am not certain that I can fully grasp it myself. There is a sense of intent, directed potential, that goes beyond the everyday aura. I cannot clarify further but even the alakazite did not feel this way.''


    ''That''s okay, Artoria. This isn''t about me anyway. This is your moment. Go on, claim your prize.''


    Wordlessly, she took a step forward. Then two, then three, until she stood over the half-buried stone. She reached out with trembling hands and raised it to her chest. As short as she was, it was almost as large as her face. A psychic glow covered her hands before she gingerly brushed off the dirt from the stone, polishing it at the same time.


    ''It is beautiful,'' she whispered in my mind. So captivated by the stone was she that even her thoughts seemed to stagger for breath.


    To be fair to her, it was indeed beautiful, a gorgeous gem that seemed to glow with an inexplicable inner radiance. The anime just didn''t do it justice, couldn''t do it justice. The swirling helix pattern seemed almost alive, spinning gently as it caught the light. It was equal parts pastel green and crimson, like Artoria''s hair and crests. The outer gem was completely clear but shimmered with Artoria''s psychic power. It looked both immeasurably precious yet ethereal, as though it could vanish with the morning mist. Call it the bias on my part, but the alakazite just couldn''t compare to it in beauty.


    "Mareep?" Jeanne asked. She deemed Artoria''s moment over and trotted over to take a closer look for herself. "Maa¡­ mareep?"


    "Kir, kirlia. Kirlia?"


    "Mareep."


    "Kirlia," Artoria said before holding it out for Jeanne.


    "Maa¡­" she bleated, seemingly fascinated by the stone.


    Then, in completely Jeanne fashion, my mareep did the unthinkable: She licked it. Full contact, visible slobber-bubbles and all, she liked it.


    "Mareep," she grumbled before lolling her tongue to the side. She then looked at a flabbergasted Artoria, then at me, and pouted. "Marreeee¡­"


    Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    "Kirlia!" Artoria cried, before hastily washing the gardevoirite on her skirt.


    "Mareep."


    "Kir-kirlia!"


    I rushed over to separate them before Artoria decided that deserved physical retribution. I grabbed Jeanne by the scruff of her neck and handed Artoria her polishing cloth. "Here, Artoria, just wipe it off. And Jeanne, why did you lick that? You know it''s not food," I reproached.


    "Marreee¡­ Mareep. Reep."


    "Artoria?"


    ''She says she wanted to know what a powerful relic tasted like,'' my starter pouted. ''It tastes like nothing, my lord. In case you were curious.''


    ''I wasn''t.''


    ''I can feel you trying not to smile. Really, she''s too much sometimes.''


    ''Okay, so maybe it was a little funny¡­''


    ''It was not!''


    ''Okay, okay, it was not,'' I said soothingly. I gave her a mental hug and did my best to ease her indignant frustration.


    She gave me the mental equivalent of a side-eye. ''I can still feel your amusement, my lord.''


    ''Sorry. I''m not unsympathetic, I promise. The gardevoirite is an important treasure and it was highly disrespectful of Jeanne to just lick it like that.''


    ''I ought to slap some manners into her.''


    ''Save it for sparring.'' I grabbed Jeanne and lifted her to eye-level. "Jeanne, that was wrong. You know that was wrong. Sure there is no harm done, but it was still very disrespectful."


    "Reep¡­" she sulked, but there wasn''t anywhere near enough remorse. She reminded me of a child who played a rude prank and was more embarrassed that she got called out on it than truly sorry. It was unfortunately a mentality I recognized all too well, largely from myself in my youth if I was being honest.


    "No berries for a week."


    "Mareep!"


    "The gardevoirite is very special to Artoria. Respect it the same way she respects you. She helps you brush your wool because looking immaculate is important to you, right?"


    "Reee¡­"


    "Exactly. Don''t do it again, okay?"


    "Mareep."


    "And apologize."


    My little lamb turned to the disgruntled kirlia and bowed her head. "Mareep. Mareep-mar."


    "Kir?"


    "Mareep."


    "Kirlia," Artoria said, bumping Jeanne''s nose with a finger.


    Jeanne was still sulking and I had no doubt that this would come up again. Teaching children correct behavior took time, but I thought it was an acceptable conclusion. "You know, when I first became a trainer, I didn''t think it''d be like babysitting my siblings, but you two can be surprisingly similar sometimes."


    "Mareep," Jeanne grumbled.


    "Kirlia," Artoria said, then added in my mind, ''I will lick the ampharosite when we find it, my lord.''


    ''Artoria¡­''


    ''I merely jest. But when are you going to tell her that you know where the stone is?''


    ''When I have the authority to go into New Mauville. There is no point in it otherwise.''


    I dusted myself off and decided that this abandoned glade was as good a place as any to set up camp. With the amount of food I could store in my hammerspace bag, we were in no real rush to cut south. I figured we may as well do some training while we had daylight; the forest did get darker faster after all.


    I set Jeanne to working more with Shock Wave. It was quickly becoming a staple of her arsenal and had replaced Thunder Shock early on. I designated one, then another target and had her try to curve the magnetic sheaths that guided the attack after the bolt had been fired with the hope that I''d eventually end up with a truly unpredictable attack that seemed almost alive in its flexibility.


    Then, Artoria and I stood side by side as we went through kendo forms. Perhaps it was a natural consequence of having an anime character''s body, but I found that I adapted to kendo far faster than I had in my previous life. I was still lacking strength and speed, but in terms of muscle memory, I moved with the kind of fluidity I only achieved much later in life.


    By now, it was an almost instinctive thing, a moving meditation for the both of us. As we synched our bodies, we also melded our minds into one.


    ''My lord?''


    ''Yes, Artoria?''


    ''I have been wondering something.''


    ''What''s up?''


    ''How did this Wanda person find herself in such an out of the way woods?''


    I considered the question and came up blank. ''I don''t rightly know, Artoria. She acquires both this and the galladite in three year''s time, but I can''t say how. Maybe she gets lost? Or she likes picking mushrooms or something?''


    ''Perhaps¡­ Do you mind if we sort your memories further?''


    ''Not knowing is really bugging you?''


    ''Somewhat. I have the stone, but perhaps it would help our future endeavors if we finished sorting your memories, my lord. With the contest, our own training, and the ursaring, it got pushed to the wayside.''


    ''You''re right. We''ll have to work on that as we continue forward. Maybe we can devote an hour or so each night to it before we sleep?''


    ''That sounds excellent.''


    After half an hour of this, we stopped the katas in favor of Artoria continuing to learn Light Screen and Reflect. She joined Jeanne in their batting game while I set up a small table and gas stove to cook dinner. I allowed myself to move on autopilot as I chopped some potatoes and onions while I went over my plans for them.


    Artoria of course had her course for the foreseeable future set. She would continue to hone Light Screen and Reflect until she could freely paint the air with either barrier at will. I expected her to improve her sensory and precognitive abilities as we traveled and battled other pok¨¦mon. I even had the idea to teach her to harness fairy type energy by using the gardevoirite as an example. It emitted both fae and psychic energy after all.


    Jeanne was more difficult.


    I found it almost humorous that Jeanne considered herself weak because she compared herself to the likes of Artoria, the ursaring mother, and Solidad''s Martin the slowbro. When she faced opponents she easily demolished in combat, such as the pok¨¦mon from the trainer school or the small horde of wild pok¨¦mon we''d met, she dismissed them as "true opponents" because Artoria herself didn''t think much of them and Artoria was very much a big sister figure for her. In her eyes, they were poor gauges of her growth and so she did not consider her victories worth taking pride in.


    That was far from the truth however. In reality, Jeanne would likely evolve soon. I could feel the skin beneath her wool becoming more elastic whenever I pet her. She was getting very strong for a mareep, a pok¨¦mon that was more often than not considered prey or livestock. She was no match for Artoria, but the rigorous training hyper-focused on her electrical charge was finally paying dividends, not to mention the constant conditioning she underwent through Take Down.


    That presented me with a serious question for me to consider: What next?


    Ultimately, I wanted to train Jeanne not just to be a competent mareep or flaaffy, but to be a powerful ampharos. I wanted her to carry the fighting style I taught her now all the way to her final evolution and beyond, because I absolutely intended to go back for the ampharosite one day. The way I saw this, I had four paths available to me: Cotton Guard, Electro Ball, Power Gem, and Agility.


    I knew from watching videos online that a well-trained ampharos could learn Cotton Guard despite lacking visible wool. They could stimulate their hair follicles in the same way their pre-evolutions could, sprouting an incredible volume of the stuff at will. Trained right, the move could make an ampharos all but physically invulnerable.


    It was also a move most mareep learned later in life. The benefit of chasing Cotton Guard, despite Jeanne herself being very young, was that Cotton Spore was a move she knew intimately thanks to her contest routine. The defensive variant was a natural evolution of the move so I considered it well within her abilities.


    On the other hand, if I wanted her to become the monstrous ranged powerhouse I knew mega ampharos could be, it made sense to start her on Electro Ball. The move benefited from the speed of the user, something Jeanne sorely lacked, but it provided one thing other electric type moves like Thunderbolt did not: condensation. Electro Ball relied on condensing large quantities of electricity into an orb, then using the pok¨¦mon''s speed and momentum to throw it like a grenade.


    That first step of condensing electricity? It was remarkably similar to Zap Cannon and would build off the progress she''d already made thanks to Charge. Not to mention, it was a beautiful move to watch and great for contests.


    The third option was Power Gem, but I discounted it almost immediately. Theoretically, it was possible for mareep to pick up the move naturally, but if Artoria and ghost type energy was something to go by, I suspected Jeanne would struggle to pick up rock type energy too. Without a more experienced mareep to teach her, I wasn''t sure I wanted Jeanne to start on it.


    Not to mention, it provided little in the way of type coverage. The ground type pok¨¦mon that laughed at electric type attacks equally laughed at rock type attacks. Beyond looking pretty for ribbons, there was little utility to the move.


    The final option was the most "off-meta" one, to steal a phrase from my past life: Agility. I knew that in the wild, some pok¨¦mon could pass the move down to mareep as an egg move. This could, theoretically, make Electro Ball useful as more than just a steppingstone to Zap Cannon. And, unlike with Power Gem, I had Artoria as a potential tutor to teach Jeanne how to sense psychic energy.


    Yes, not just as a way to shore up her flagging speed, but also as a way to improve relations between my pok¨¦mon¡­ I was liking the idea more and more. Artoria, for all her discipline, was young and tended to be impatient with those she considered "unknightly," immoral, or undisciplined. Perhaps by teaching Jeanne, she could learn a bit more perspective. My eyes drifted to my two pok¨¦mon as they competed against each other. It was a very atypical fighting style, but then again, Jeanne was a very atypical mareep.


    A small basket of wild mushrooms I''d picked over the past few days went into the stew in lieu of meat. Although Jeanne was perfectly capable of subsisting entirely on forage, I occasionally made vegan meals she could eat so the three of us could gather around a pot. With the addition of some wild garlic and herbs, the broth ended up tasting surprisingly meaty despite the lack thereof. I set the stew to simmer for another hour and opened up my Pok¨¦Nav to look through the day''s online news.


    I glanced through the global headlines. The Pok¨¦mon World Tournament would be hosted in Olivine City in Johto, but there was some talk about concerns regarding public safety, especially in light of a newly instated gym leader, Jasmine.


    There was a picture of the petite brunette along with a quote from her reassuring everyone that she would maintain public order. She was as cute as a button, pretty in that wholesome, girl-next-door sort of way. Though she was about as far from intimidating as possible, the mighty steelix behind her made her words far more believable.


    Speaking of new leader, I saw that Kalos crowned its fifteenth Champion, their very own megastar actress, Diantha Carne. The beautiful woman''s fierce, azure eyes stared back at me through the screen. She was not the youngest Champion ever at twenty-seven, but she could arguably claim the title for being the most controversial, at least out of those who took power during peacetime.


    It was not her skill or power that was up for debate, her mega gardevoir was infamous for her devastating Moonblasts. No, the problem was that she never went on a journey.


    Diantha was, to put it mildly, a rich woman. Daughter of a media mogul and an internationally acclaimed fashion designer, she was born with a silver spoon in her mouth. That alone wouldn''t have been bad, but she chose to pursue acting instead of going on the traditional gym challenge. All of her pok¨¦mon, including the two incredibly rare, resurrected fossils, were pok¨¦mon that were purchased.


    Thus the controversy: After becoming a superstar, she announced that she had secretly been training her team on the side and that she would compete in that year''s Grande Fleur Conference. She technically had the fastest clear time from one to eight badges, but that was because she faced all the eight major gyms using a fully evolved team, long after they were matured, and teleported from city to city with her gardevoir. If anything, she probably spent more time booking hotel rooms than on any route.


    There were plenty of jealous people who claimed she earned none of the power she had, how she should stick to the movie screen or how anyone could be successful with that kind of backing. Nasty rumors of nepotism, corruption, and sexual scandals followed the woman everywhere despite never having any concrete evidence to back them. When she swept that year''s Grande Fleur Conference, she took the trophy to a mix of boos and catcalls.


    Idiots. I didn''t know about her personal life, but power didn''t lie. Strong pok¨¦mon didn''t obey just anyone. Powerful psychics, ghosts, and dragons like her gardevoir, gourgeist, tyrantrum, and goodra especially so. Yes, she was an "artificial" trainer who never went on a journey. Yes, she was monstrously capable nonetheless. Both were factual.


    If anything, I personally agreed with the other criticism of her, that she might see the Champion''s throne merely as a way of earning more prestige or boosting her acting career, that she might not have Kalos'' best interests at heart. They said that no matter how strong she was, she could not relate to the people of Kalos, the common man and ''mon, because she never took the time to get to know them. They said, rightly in my opinion, that the journey had more worth than simply "roughing it" for a few years. It was a way to learn more about the people and pok¨¦mon, to build relationships and grow as an individual.


    Alas, my opinion meant little, as did those of her detractors. She won, taking the throne from Champion Drasna who now worked as her right hand and head of her Elite Four. There was nothing else to be said in the end: She was Champion.


    Considering her infamous disdain for the great outdoors, I wondered how she found her own gardevoirite. We were, as far as I knew, the only two wielders after all. If nothing else, that alone meant I''d be following her reign closely.


    Then, I reached the Hoenn-specific section of the online paper and froze as the headline caught my eye. "Dr. Kagari breaks new ground in Mt. Chimney excavation," it read.


    The name struck me with a niggling sense of familiarity when I read it last in Mauville, but now I had a face to go with the name. She was beautiful, in a cold, disinterested way that reminded me of my mother. She was petite with lavender hair cut short in a pixie cut and frosty purple eyes. A confident smirk that lacked any warmth graced her features. Just to be sure, I looked up her full name and my stomach sank: Courtney Kagari, promising young geologist and coordinator working for the Hoenn Geological Survey.


    Worse, she wasn''t weak.


    In the games, she was a pushover, sure, not as much as the grunts, but an all-around forgettable steppingstone whose only highlight was that her character art was cute. Here¡­ not so much.


    She hadn''t won a grand festival, but she''d come close alongside her swellow and a motherfucking ninetales! On top of her skipping years to earn her doctorate early, just the bare bones of her biography painted a very different picture, one that gave me plenty of reasons to worry.


    Was this some kind of composite version from the anime and manga? Could I expect her to have her camerupt and mightyena too or would she have a different, Elite-worthy team altogether? Was she already working for Team Magma?


    I knew of her. She or Aqua Admin Matt, were the two deadliest members of their respective teams, perhaps even more so than Maxie and Archie. The two leaders cooked up an insane plan called Project AZOTH in which they wanted to use the power of Primal Reversion to turn back the clock on this world, killing everything and everyone in it.


    Whichever idiot tried would be beaten by the protagonist and talked down by their rival, giving up on AZOTH. Except, their lieutenants would not yield. Courtney or Matt would go on in the Delta Episode to intentionally sabotage the Mossdeep rocket, using their respective key stone to turn the dimensional shifter into a bomb that could destroy the world.


    Yes, the world. Yes, they lived here. No, they had no escape plan. Yes, they were that insane, the kind of stupid-crazy that would make the Joker think twice, the kind of unredeemable insanity only found in the most deluded of cultists.


    But¡­ But in the manga, Courtney the coordinator was separate from Courtney the scientist, just as there were two Team Magmas, the original and Neo Team Magma. Which was it? Was she the elegant coordinator who eventually helped Ruby stop Groudon and Kyogre? Or was she the lunatic that would happily destroy the world in suicidal delirium? Would she help defeat Archie? Or would she enable Maxie''s madness?


    I. Didn''t. Know.


    In the first place, the very idea that Courtney could take anything from Mossdeep without mom knowing was¡­ laughable. This wasn''t the games, with Tate and Liza being the strongest trainers in the area. Sharon Fulan was a great many things, but weak certainly wasn''t among them.


    I¡­ I didn''t know. All I could do was wait and see. The two mega stones I''d found proved my knowledge was credible to a point, but I had no idea where that point was and it was paralyzing me with indecision.


    Was this how mom felt sometimes? Having exclusive information but never quite enough of it to do what you want?


    With much to think about, I doled out the mushroom stew and called an end to the training for the night.


    Author''s Note


    Are you surprised? Weird, huh? That''s the beauty of foreknowledge; you turn what might otherwise have been a grand quest into a frustrating and somewhat anticlimactic scavenger hunt.


    Some of you recognized Kagari, but here it is. Courtney. She''s¡­ a complicated figure. In Adventures, she has a ninetales and was a successful coordinator. In the games, she was a scientist. I''ve decided to blend the two identities somewhat. If you read her dialogue from the games, she is¡­ fucking insane. Like, Harley Quinn having a meltdown kind of insane. I know she''s probably someone''s favorite waifu or whatever, but damn¡­


    Anyway, this is the end of the arc. Arc 3, will cover Aaron''s trip to Oldale and a few other things before culminating in Petalburg for his second badge.


    Thank you for reading. To reach a wider audience, and because I enjoy a more forum-like setup to facilitate discussion, I like to crosspost to a wide variety of websites. You can find them all on my Link Tree: https://linktr.ee/fabled.webs.</a>

 3.1 Soup

    Soup 3.1


    Aaron Fulan


    Petalburg Woods, Hoenn Region


    We remained in that grove for several days longer. In a nutshell, why would we leave? It was as good a place as any to train, with a bubbling creek only half a mile away I could fish in, several bushes of berries and wild vegetables dotting the grove, and the occasional wandering pok¨¦mon who didn''t mind throwing down with my girls for a bit. Between physical conditioning, sparring, and repetitive practice to master their new moves, we felt moving on from the grove would only impede our progress.


    And, perhaps a little irrationally, Artoria had begun to think of this grove as nearly sacred, a place of solitude and reverence where she''d found her treasured relic.


    Truthfully, it was a good opportunity for me to train as well. I didn''t think I''d ever reach the lofty heights of sword mastery found in Bleach or other shonen anime, pok¨¦mon-world aura just didn''t work that way, but I couldn''t afford to fall behind my cute student. And, even if I couldn''t reach the stars, perhaps I could stand on the moon?


    I held my bokken as my mind blended seamlessly with Artoria''s. We stood facing each other, me on the forest floor and her on a nearby stump. Even with the stump to stand on, I still had a good head''s height on her, but that couldn''t really be helped. In her hands, her spoon glowed a deep blue-violet before growing in length.


    ''Ready?'' I asked. I felt her search through my memories, her attention settling on the forms I myself was thinking of.


    ''Of course, my lord. Strike me with all you have!''


    Despite her enthusiasm, we moved painstakingly slowly. An all-out spar wasn''t the point, I''d lose that for sure. The goal of this exercise was to teach one another using our bond. We progressed through all nine kihon waza, a sequence of attacks, parries, and counterattacks. By watching me, submerging herself in my memories, and literally experiencing the way I moved, she was quickly soaking in the proper posture and technique of a sixth-dan kendoka.


    The bond worked both ways. As much as she was soaking up my skills, I was doing the same. Except rather than focus on what she was doing physically, my attention was on what she was doing on the mental stage. How did a ralts use psychic energy? How did Artoria in particular infuse psychic energy throughout her body to strengthen herself? How did she enhance her weapon with Reflect? On a more basic level, what did psychic energy feel like from per perspective?


    This training method was something I could only do with Artoria. It involved an absolute intimacy and trust that no one else, not even my family, had from me. And, bit by bit, my trust was rewarded with progress.


    I could feel myself improving, getting ever so slightly stronger. Psychic aura suffused my muscles, stressing them beyond their natural inclinations. Although, that did make me wonder: At what point did psychic aura stop being "psychic?" Could I claim Artoria is a part fighting type now?


    I doubted I''d get a straight answer. Only the medicham line and gallade blended psychic and fighting type aura in such a way. I made a mental note to ask Quinn next time I saw him.


    Nearby, Jeanne too had taken her training to the next level.


    On the way to Verdanturf, she''d started her training by building and maintaining as great an electrical charge as possible. She was so good at using Charge now that she did it all but instinctively. When she entered battle, she Charged. When she had a spare moment to breathe, she Charged. When she ate and chewed cud, she Charged. She could snap out a full salvo of Shock Waves in a split second, like Billy the Kid but fluffy and adorable. More than one greedy taillow found that out the hard way when they tried to poach Jeanne''s berry stash.


    Her firing speed was impressive, for a mareep. Her power too was impressive, for a mareep. Her physical conditioning, of course, was impressive, for a mareep.


    But she wasn''t going to remain a mareep for long. I could feel beneath her fur that her skin was becoming more elastic, almost rubbery as if gaining insulating properties. She was close to evolving and that meant moving on.


    As per my training notes, the goal was to teach her Electro Ball, both to pair with Agility in the near future, and to get her accustomed to condensing large amounts of electricity outside her body for Zap Cannon.


    "Mareep!" I heard her cry as the electric orb she''d been building exploded in her face. It didn''t hurt, but the impact did tussle her fur and knock her on her haunches.


    "You''re doing great, Jeanne," I encouraged as Artoria and I transitioned to the fifth kihon waza. "That was longer than last time."


    "Reep! Mareep!"


    ''She says she is hungry, my lord. Even though we had lunch three hours ago,'' Artoria said disapprovingly.


    "Go run five suicides across the clearing," I called, sending a pulse of thanks down the bond at the same time. "Then you can grab another berry and we''ll rest for a bit."


    "Reep!"


    ''You spoil her, my lord.''


    ''Do I? Her training is the most physically taxing out of all of ours at the moment. Isn''t it natural she''d get hungry first?''


    ''I suppose¡­ She still lacks focus.''


    ''She does,'' I agreed. I couldn''t deny that. Even after the ursaring incident, Jeanne simply lacked the single-minded dedication Artoria had. ''That''s normal for her, and most electric types for that matter. They''re not flighty, but their attention spans do tend to be a bit shorter than psychics.''


    ''That sounds like an awful state of affairs. I do not envy her.''


    I turned aside her horizontal counterstroke aimed for my hands with a sliding parry. ''No, you just snuggle with her, brush her wool, and feed her the choicest fruits.''


    ''T-That is that and this is this!''


    ''Face it, Artoria, you''re a doting big sister.''


    ''Hmph, and what about you, my lord? You even tell her bedtime stories.''


    ''I tell both of you bedtime stories. Don''t pretend you don''t like them.''


    ''Nonsense,'' she sniffed, though her heart wasn''t in it. ''She enjoys bedtime stories. I listen to the deeds of great knights to better understand chivalry and knightly virtues. We are not the same.''


    ''Of course not,'' I said placatingly.


    ''I can see you grinning.''


    ''We all have our passions, Artoria.''


    ''We do. I for one will be happy when she evolves; perhaps that will mature her.''


    In lieu of an answer, I sent her two memories. One was from last night, of me brushing her hair as she took her polishing cloth and gently caressed every inch of her newfound mega stone. The other was of Gollum and the One Ring.


    ''I AM NOT OBSESSED!''


    X


    When we finally set out, it was the first of April. Popular wisdom said I ought to go back for the mawilite and pidgeotite, but I couldn''t justify devoting so much time to locating them, especially when Artoria could barely sense fae aura to begin with. She managed to sense a snubbull using Charm in a city, but in a forest with a far more chaotic layout and a larger pok¨¦mon population density? No chance.


    I saw no point in being wasting time greedy when the single biggest reason for going to Verdanturf was sitting in my backpack already. If anything, there were plenty of reasons to not take the mega stones.


    Mega stones were objects of incredible prestige and value. Their worth could not be overstated and only people like Steven Stone could afford to purchase them. That was if they were allowed to bid on them at all. Either you found one on your own, inherited from family, or you were both stupid-rich and had a conference championship under your belt. At minimum.


    I wasn''t the type to brag about my luck, but if it ever accidentally got out that I could reliably locate mega stones, or at least more reliably than most, it would be the equivalent of painting a massive target on my back. I wasn''t ready for that kind of attention. Even when Artoria became a mega gardevoir, I didn''t think I''d ever appreciate that kind of attention.


    No, let sleeping houndoom lie. Besides, if I was right and destiny played a factor into relics such as these, then they''d fall into the right hands on their own.


    As per routine by now, we trained as we walked. Jeanne had Artoria mounted on her back, with a burgeoning Electro Ball hovering between her horns like a light.


    After a few minutes basking in her "the splendor of her knightly mount," Artoria''s mind had drifted elsewhere. She and I were one. We were effectively playing a psychic version of I Spy, her picking out different pok¨¦mon and me doing some mental gymnastics to stretch my mind and feel what she felt.


    ''My liege?''


    ''Hmm?''


    If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    She pushed forward a mental image of the map of Hoenn. We''d certainly looked at it enough times already for her to have a clear-ish picture. ''Why are we going to Oldale? Should we not cut diagonally southwest until we hit Petalburg?''


    ''Eager for the second badge?''


    ''I am. Leader Maple is a man even my lady respects.''


    ''True. Since mom has no interest in the spot, he''s the one who''s most likely to take the Elite spot whenever Drake decides to retire.''


    ''I was told normal type pok¨¦mon are the most versatile in the world. I look forward to seeing it for myself.''


    ''You know he''s not going to take us seriously, right?'' I reminded her. ''This is only for the second badge. He''ll probably have a zigzagoon. A linoone maybe. If he really wants to surprise us, he might bring out a zangoose. We won''t be seeing his famous slaking anytime soon.''


    ''We will have to return when we are stronger.''


    ''We will,'' I promised her. ''Once we have our eight badges, we can really start competing for rankings. Until then, we''re probably not going to be seeing a gym leader''s elite team.''


    ''Are they so much stronger than us? Lady Sharon is¡­ Lady Sharon. Are they all so far above us?''


    ''No, not a chance in hell,'' I snorted. ''Mom is¡­ mom. Wallace Mikuri. Marcus Moore. Norman Maple. Wattson Tessen in his prime I suppose. These are the trainers who were, could have, or are being considered for Elite Four status. The rest are relatively young and haven''t fully come into their power. Roxanne Tsutsuji only became a leader last year. Brawly Toki two years before that. They''re strong, but nowhere near as oppressive as mom.''


    ''Can we expect to fight one of their main team then?'' she asked hopefully. I reached down and ruffled her hair, the battle-nut.


    ''Not really? That''s probably unlikely until you evolve and even then it''s just a maybe.''


    ''Then I shall strive to get stronger.''


    ''We all will. Anyway, as for Oldale, we''re going partly because I want to check it off the list and it''s not too far out of the way. There''s also a small contest hall we can hit up for Jeanne''s first ribbon. I think she''ll be ready for her win by then.''


    ''I see. Yes, she does love the stage and her control has improved greatly.''


    ''Right? I don''t think there will be too many people in the audience, Oldale is even smaller than Verdanturf, but the first ribbon will help us advance to super-rank contests sooner.''


    ''Right¡­ Say, my lord?''


    ''Yes?''


    ''Wasn''t there a set of ruins near Oldale? I remember reading it in the travel log.''


    ''Now that you mention it, yeah. It''s nothing special I don''t think? I''ll have to see if I can find the page again, but I think everything''s been cleared out already. Just a bunch of old carvings there.''


    ''Can we visit?''


    ''I suppose we can make a day trip, but why?''


    ''The pictures in the guide looked nice and I would like to see what they''re like in person,'' she said.


    I blinked, then smiled happily. ''Of course we can. You know, I think this is the first time you''ve expressed an interest in anything that isn''t training. Or food.''


    ''I am not a glutton,'' she huffed.


    ''I never said that, but if you heard it, well, that''s your guilt.''


    ''Hmph.''


    ''I''m glad you''re interested in the ruins, Artoria.''


    ''It''s not the ruins necessarily¡­ The stories you told me from your past life... Tales of legendary heroes and ancient secrets¡­ They make me want to learn more about the heroes of our world. Surely our world is not lacking in valiant protectors?''


    ''It''s not. When we stop for the night, I''ll tell you about Sir Aaron, or Sir Arion if you want to use old Rotan.''


    ''I think I know that one. Tell me while we walk?''


    ''Nope. Jeanne will want to hear it too and I don''t want to distract her.''


    ''Hauu¡­''


    X


    "Kirlia, kir-la. Kir."


    "Mar. Mareep."


    "Kirlia."


    "Reep."


    "Kir¡­"


    I watched bemusedly as my two pok¨¦mon bickered back and forth. They really were opposites, but they could be alike in the strangest ways. We''d made camp for the night and, as promised, I settled into my sleeping bag next to the fire to tell them the story of Sir Aaron of Rota.


    Except, they didn''t join me. As far as I could tell, they were arguing about whose pillow was whose. Both pillows were a leafy-green, but apparently, one was fluffier.


    Fuck if I could tell the difference, they looked exactly the same to me, but they swore there was one so¡­ ehh¡­


    I sighed and spoke aloud. "Girls, it''s just a pillow."


    "Reep!"


    "Lia!"


    "I have no idea what you said."


    Seeing this was getting nowhere, Jeanne approached the pillow and licked it. "Mareep. Mar," she bleated smugly.


    Disgruntled, I yanked it out from beneath her. "I don''t need pok¨¦speak to know you just claimed it. Licking things is not how you claim ownership, Jeanne."


    "Reep."


    "Kir! Kirlia!''


    "Artoria, in plain common?"


    ''She says it is hers now because it smells like her!''


    I sighed and wondered how mom would deal with this. She would¡­ Have Alice hypnotize everyone into taking a nap for a few hours¡­ I buried my hands into my face, probably not a good parenting strategy.


    I looked at my sleeping bag. Being thirteen, I was a short, slim kid and there was plenty of room in the sleeping bag. I tossed the pillow I was using Jeanne''s way and flipped the one she licked onto the other side before laying down on it.


    "Mine. Now neither of you get your favorite pillow."


    "Ma-Mareep?"


    "Yup. Mine."


    "Reep?"


    "Don''t know what you said. Don''t care. Now come to bed."


    "Reeee¡­" she slumped but flopped onto my stomach. One way or another, she''d get her pillow apparently.


    "You too, Artoria," I said, patting my right.


    She sighed and dragged what used to be my old pillow until it was partly submerged in the sleeping bag. Then she crawled in so her ruby eyes were level with my own.


    ''I suppose this is one way to end the matter.''


    "Don''t pout, you two. I''ll still tell you about Sir Aaron."


    "Reep."


    ''We are not pouting.''


    "You are and it''s adorable. Now shush. This takes place in the tiny kingdom of Rota, more than one thousand years ago¡­"


    X


    I woke up to more of the same bickering from last night. Like the teenage siblings equivalents that they were, they''d somehow decided that the pillow was worth arguing about even now. I knew from Tate and Liza; the pillow was no longer the true subject of their quarrel. If anything, it was an avatar, a representation of their rivalry. Possessing it was now a matter of pride rather than comfort.


    Exercising the better part of wisdom, I ignored them both and went about preparing breakfast. For breakfast, I decided to go for oyakodon, a rice bowl with chicken braised in eggs, soy sauce, and mirin. Sure, it wasn''t really "breakfast food" according to tradition, but I was fond of the comfort food so fuck tradition.


    I chowed down on my delicious, eggy rice and watched as the two stomped over to a nearby oran bush. They then turned over to me, giving each other competitive side-eyes all the while.


    ''My lord, would you care to count us off?'' my starter spoke in my head.


    ''Care to explain? You can''t possibly care that much about a pillow anymore.''


    ''It''s the principle of the matter. We are having a berry eating contest. The victor shall claim the good pillow and eternal bragging rights.''


    ''Artoria¡­'' I stared at both of them. They shuffled in place nervously but neither seemed like they''d back down. Or, they would, but would likely start this mess again as soon as I wasn''t paying attention. Really, I had the feeling that these two were enjoying themselves in their own way. I glanced at the bush full of plump, blue berries and figured, what the hell. "Fine. The first ever team berry eating contest begins in three¡­ two¡­ one. Go!"


    I settled back into my comfy camping chair and watched as the two of them turned their ravenous hunger onto the bush. That poor bush just wasn''t ready. Artoria grabbed a berry by the stem and shoved the whole thing in her mouth before, with a suction-like sucking noise, she slurped up everything but the pith.


    "Kirlia!" she cried, tossing the seed at her feet. I didn''t need her to talk to me to tell she was counting.


    Jeanne wasn''t far behind. She scorched her first berry with a well-controlled Shock Wave before crunching down on the blistered skin with a happy bleat. She was a marvel to behold, and if I were to be honest with myself, a little disgusting.


    Sheep chewed cud. It was just what they did. They did this for most of the day, so long and so often that the act of chewing was a semi-autonomous action, much like breathing. Translated to an eating contest, and it meant Jeanne''s jaws worked like a machine, breaking down the berries going in with mechanical precision.


    Morbidly, I wondered, if a cherim were to watch her eat now, would it liken Jeanne to the ursaring?


    I sat back and decided to let them pig out. Worst case scenario, we''d stick around this campsite for a day while they puked from overeating. They''d likely learn a good lesson today and seeing how it wasn''t likely to kill them, I was happy to let them learn the hard way.


    Besides, this contest wasn''t entirely random on their part. Artoria likely suggested something other than a straight spar knowing, rightly, that she''s have an overwhelming advantage against Jeanne as things stood. She likely considered such a battle unfair and unchivalrous of her.


    I wondered just how many these two could eat when they put their minds to it. I finished up my own breakfast and packed up camp. When I returned, they were still eating¡­ for a given definition of the word¡­


    The answer, as it turned out, was more than I''d expected.


    Those two gluttons had stripped almost the entire bush bare, though they were admittedly carrying on through sheer force of will and competitive drive at this point. Watching these numbskulls savage that poor bush was more fun than watching the Superbowl.


    Competitive eating fans¡­ I understood now¡­


    Alas, the contest was put on hold as a loud screech filled the air. Four taillow hovered overhead, shouting down at them. It didn''t take a genius to gather what they were upset about.


    "Ah¡­ This is their bush, isn''t it?" I mused. I dug in my pack and picked out two large hondew berries. Each were as large as a soccer ball and were this world''s equivalent to honeydew melons. I held them out to the four taillow. "Hey, sorry about eating your bush, mind if we call it even with these?"


    "Taillow! Taiii!" the leader screeched.


    ''He claims he is owed greater compensation, my liege,'' Artoria translated. ''He wants you to leave the bag entirely.''


    ''Well that''s obviously not going to work. It has your mega stone in it for starters.''


    That did it. Artoria switched gears from playfully competitive big sister to protective knight in a split second. She drew her spoon and brandished it towards the small flock of bird pok¨¦mon. ''No, we cannot have that.''


    "Kirlia, kir-lia. Kirlia."


    "Tai-taillow!"


    "Kirlia!"


    "Taillow!" the leader screeched before sinking forward into a poorly telegraphed Quick Attack.


    Artoria scoffed before blasting off with a combination of Mana Burst and Mana Edge. Adding on the taillow''s own momentum, he struck her spoon with a loud crack that resounded throughout the clearing. I doubted he''d be waking up again anytime soon.


    Artoria did a pirouette in midair before teleporting to my side.


    I was going to order another attack while we had momentum, but she immediately collapsed onto her knees, holding her hands over her mouth.


    "Kiirrr¡­" she moaned pitiably. ''Urrppp¡­ That¡­ Perhaps that was not a good idea¡­''


    ''You''ve got to be shitting me¡­''


    ''My sincerest apologies, my lord¡­''


    I looked a ways and saw that Jeanne was no better. Thinking quickly, I withdrew Jeanne and snatched up Artoria under my arm before booking it out of there while the three other taillow were distracted by their crumpled leader.


    I heard enraged screeching and knew they''d give chase soon.


    ''My lord, I think I''m going to-''


    ''I swear to Arceus, Artoria, if you barf on my shirt, you''re in so much trouble!''


    ''I-I can''t¡­''


    I groaned as I felt a trickle of warm, oddly chunky fluid trickle down my side. Still, I kept running, no way in hell could I hope to match three flying pok¨¦mon with just my bokken.


    ''So¡­ much¡­ trouble¡­'' I thought back at her, promising vengeance. I didn''t know what I''d do, but there would be much suffering in her future. I swore it.


    Author''s Note


    Kihon waza literally means "foundational techniques." You can find "kihon waza" in every martial art, ranging from karate to jiujutsu. In kendo, it''s a series of attacks, parries, and responses in which the teacher always strikes first and carries out a set form.


    Why a berry eating contest? I don''t know. It seemed appropriate. I''ve definitely done stupid shit like this with my kid sis back in the day.


    Who said being a trainer was glamorous? Sure, you can be the Champion, but sometimes, you gotta wring kirlia-vomit out of your shirt in the middle of bumfuck nowhere. All part of the experience, you know?


    Thank you for reading. To reach a wider audience, and because I enjoy a more forum-like setup to facilitate discussion, I like to crosspost to a wide variety of websites. You can find them all on my Link Tree: https://linktr.ee/fabled.webs.</a>

 3.2 Soup

    Soup 3.2


    Aaron Fulan


    Petalburg Woods, Hoenn Region


    I leaned against a tree, panting and hacking my lungs out. On the upside, we weren''t being chased by ornery taillow anymore. Most wild pok¨¦mon didn''t pick fights with trainers in "horde" formats like this because they understood that most trainers had more pok¨¦mon on hand than what they could see. But taillow were gutsy fuckers. They were effectively the Florida-men of the Hoenn wilds, willing to challenge damn near anyone and anything.


    Yes, we were there first. Yes, beating us wouldn''t make the berries grow back any faster. Yes, this was likely only one of half a dozen bushes they kept tabs on for food. Yes, Artoria had just one-shot their leader with laughable ease. Yes, I could have had other pok¨¦mon in my pocket besides the ones who''d just gorged themselves into an inept stupor.


    Did any of that matter to them? Fuck. No. Those gutsy fuckers gave zero fucks unless there was a more mature swellow to reign in their near-suicidal forwardness.


    So, I ran. I ran like a little bitch until I could taste the iron-rich flavor of blood with every gasp of air I forced into my lungs. I ran until they finally got sick of chasing us, or got distracted by something shiny.


    Have I mentioned I loathe taillow?


    I tossed Jeanne''s pok¨¦ball into the air and watched her materialize.


    "Maa!" she cheered, tiny hooves thrust towards the sky in salute to the sun. It would''ve been cute had I not been exceedingly cross with my two pok¨¦mon. That she immediately choked on her own cud and curled into a woolen ball didn''t make me feel better¡­ much¡­


    I plopped Artoria down and glared at them both. She had mostly recovered, if only by virtue of having emptied her stomach down the side of my shirt. "Well? What have we learned today?"


    They straightened at my harsh tone. I watched them squirm and shuffle. Good. They deserved this.


    The two of them began to whisper something between them before Artoria sighed. She had clearly been nominated as their spokespok¨¦mon, if only because she was the only one I could fully understand.


    "What do you have to say for yourselves?"


    ''Ah¡­ Umm¡­ We may have overeaten¡­ a little¡­''


    I looked pointedly down at my ruined shirt and leveled a thoroughly unamused glare at my starter. "A little? Really?"


    ''In our defense¡­ Hunger is the enemy¡­?''


    ''So are wild pok¨¦mon.''


    ''O-Our apologies, my lord¡­''


    "Do either of you know why I''m upset?"


    Jeanne pawed the dirt. "Maa¡­ reep?"


    ''I¡­ I soiled your shirt¡­''


    "No, that''s not the problem. The shirt can be washed. Hell, Tate and Liza did more when they were younger. What do you think would have happened if those taillow were better?" I demanded to shamed silence. "We might be dead. Barring that, they could have just flown off with the bag, which might I remind you, includes your mega stone, Artoria."


    "Kir¡­" she looked down. ''I have no excuse.''


    I pulled off my shirt and tossed it into the laundry compartment of my hammerspace bag. There was a little hand-cranked washing machine I could use to get the vomit out. I then passed around a glass of water so my pok¨¦mon could gargle their mouths.


    When we were mostly clean, I tugged them into a hug. "Us escaping was the best-case scenario. We could have all gotten hurt, especially if the pok¨¦mon that stumbled on us were more dangerous than taillow."


    "Kiii¡­"


    "Maaa¡­


    "Playing is okay. Bickering is okay. It''s encouraged even. I want you two to fight and argue and figure out compromises to get along better. I want you two to make silly challenges because they''ll become cherished memories when you''re older. But there is a time and place for that. Restraint is important too. Do you understand?"


    "Mareep," Jeanne nodded, sulking. I didn''t doubt she''d bounce back to her usual chipper self tomorrow.


    ''I understand, my lord. I grossly overstepped. I am the elder. I should have known better. I should only have indulged her to a point.''


    ''And where was that point?'' I asked curiously.


    ''Last night?''


    ''Are you asking me or telling me?''


    ''Telling you¡­? Telling you.''


    ''No. I enjoyed watching you two gorge yourselves,'' I admitted to her. ''It was fun until you decided to overeat so much that you couldn''t protect yourselves.''


    ''Ah¡­''


    ''You should have restrained yourself, even if it meant letting her have the win. What is a swordsman who cannot draw their sword?''


    ''Not a swordsman,'' she said, shame flowing through the bond. ''I am disgraced¡­''


    ''No,'' I chided. ''You are learning. And that is enough.''


    ''Yes, my lord.''


    I reached out and ruffled both their heads. They did need to be punished still, lesson learned or no. "Since you love oran berries so much, that''s all you''re getting to eat. Breakfast. Lunch. Dinner."


    "Maa!"


    "Kir!"


    "For a week."


    I took smug satisfaction at their stricken looks. I didn''t know a kirlia could turn green.


    X


    In the end, as funny as their faces were, I caved after three days. For one, they''d learned their lesson. Even looking at an oran berry killed their appetite. Great, because that stuff was actually kind of neat when sliced in thin discs, soaked in a sweet vinegar, and used as a relish-like topping on my sandwiches alongside some farfetch''d breast, onion, and arugula.


    And wasn''t that interesting in itself. It always caught me a little by surprise to find some pok¨¦mon show up in the supermarket meat aisle. Regular animals existed, but shared the plate as consumables. As far as I could tell a farfetch''d breast was a bit meatier and gamier than regular duck breast, though I wasn''t sure that was necessarily better. I''d gotten it out of curiosity, but I didn''t think I''d buy it again.


    Secondly, and just as important, I was quickly growing tired of hunting down oran berry bushes. My stock had run out on day two.


    The upside to the massive chewing out I gave them was that they threw themselves with renewed vigor into their training.


    ''Jeanne''s really gotten the hang of Electro Ball,'' I mused as I watched her battle a passing lombre. Her Electro Ball easily overwhelmed its Water Gun, each orb landing with enough impact to scatter the water.


    The lombre lunged with Scratch, but Jeanne was more physically fit and dodged out of the way before retaliating with a vicious Take Down. Her general reluctance towards close-quarters combat was no longer anywhere to be found.


    "Lombre!" it cried as it sailed through the air.


    It landed on a tree trunk, digging in with its claws to keep its balance. Then, hopping onto the forest floor, it began a dance that made me feel woozy. It wove back and forth, swinging its arms like a carefree drunkard, each step sending out subtle pulses of aura in staggered patterns. That I could sense the attack at all was a testament to my growth.


    The vestibular sense was governed primarily by otoliths in the ear. How was it then that a dance caused a loss of balance in everyone else? Was it some kind of sympathetic effect that the lombre trained itself to overcome?


    Didn''t matter, fuck science, just one more proof that pok¨¦mon didn''t give a damn about conventional logic.


    "Teeter Dance!" I shouted, but the warning came too late. The entire world seemed to lurch back and forth, as though I was on a boat. "Jeanne, Protect!"


    Whatever it was planning next, I wanted her to hunker down. She barely managed to raise the shield in time, a glowing, teal hemisphere surrounding her as the lombre seized its chance with a powerful stream of bubbles. They crashed like a staccato of raindrops, except each exploded with considerably greater force. I could see why they''d be disorienting if faced head on.


    If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    I tugged on the psychic bond and flooded my body with psychic aura as I''d been practicing. When that wasn''t enough, Artoria lent me a surge of power that helped stabilize my senses. It wasn''t a full cure, I still wanted to sit down, but it did get me back into the fight.


    But if a disruption in aura was enough to break me out of it, then¡­


    "Focus, Jeanne!" I cried, "Listen to my voice! Shock yourself!"


    "Mareep!"


    She didn''t hesitate for a moment. Her fur glowed an incandescent yellow before some of the charge soaked back into her hide. When she next opened her eyes, they were resolute and ready to dish out some payback.


    "Good. Cotton Spore into Electro Ball."


    "Mareep!" With a bleating battle cry, she filled the clearing with a ludicrous number of woolen spores, each charged with enough static to stick to absolutely anything.


    "Lombre!" it panicked. No longer able to move as it wished, it could only stand with eyes wide open as Jeanne hopped onto the side of a tree and launched herself into the air.


    She twisted like a cat before striking with a downward flip. An orb of condensed electricity struck down from the orange gem-like bulb in her tail, flung as though from a sling. It crashed like a baseball into the lombre''s face, sending it blasting back and knocking it out cold.


    Jeanne landed and raised her hooves towards the sky in her usual cheer. "Mareep! Ma-"


    Amidst her celebration, a brilliant white light covered her. I''d only seen it once before so far, but it was one any trainer worth his salt would recognize in a heartbeat: the light of evolution.


    When it faded, I found myself staring at a bipedal, pink sheep¡­ thing¡­ I wasn''t quite sure if she qualified as an ovine anymore. It was honestly a little hard to describe. Jeanne had switched her blue fur for pink. Even her horns had switched to a pink and black striped color as though the keratin itself had taken on a different pigment. She now stood on two legs and all four limbs ended in toes as opposed to hooves. Just about the only thing sheep-like about here was the wool over the crown of her head and around her neck. Strangely, the orange gem-like bulb on her tail had become an azure blue.


    I laughed and picked up the slightly heavier flaaffy in my arms. "Jeanne! Look at you! You evolved!"


    "Flaa? Flaaffy!" she cried, as though finally realizing that yes, she had indeed changed.


    "Ooh! I''m so proud of you!"


    "Flaaffy flaaf!"


    "I know. It was a long time coming, but you evolved. I said were close, didn''t I?"


    "Flaaf."


    I felt a small weight teleport to my back. "Kirlia. Kir. Kirlia?"


    "Flaaffy?"


    "Kirlia. Lii¡­ Lia?"


    "Flaaffy, flaaf. Feee."


    I set my two pok¨¦mon down and let them have their moment. I walked up to the lombre and nudged it awake.


    "Lom?"


    "Here," I said, proffering an oran berry. My own pok¨¦mon were thoroughly disgusted with its like anyhow so I figured I may as well give it away. "Thanks for duking it out with my mareep. You were exactly what she needed to evolve."


    "Lombre¡­" it groaned, a paw over its face.


    "Take the berry. It''ll make you feel better."


    "Lombre," it said. Its voice was strange, like a weird mix of a quack and a chirp, if birds had vocal cords. Especially weird since lombre weren''t avian as far as I knew. Still, it took the berry gratefully. It then waddled off, grumbling something or other like a middle-aged man.


    I decided to set up camp then and there. There was too much to learn now that Jeanne evolved. What followed was a lengthy training session to see just where she stood now.


    The answer was that she hadn''t changed much.


    To be expected, really. Most pok¨¦mon didn''t magically learn new moves upon evolution like some did in the games. Most did not gain flight, grow gills, or develop a secondary typing and Jeanne was no different. Artoria didn''t change much either.


    At the same time, everything she knew became¡­ tighter¡­? Was that the right word?


    Jeanne wasn''t much taller, barely three feet tall now, but she was more compact, with lithe, toned muscle that wasn''t there before. I had her run through her moves and her "casting time," for lack of a better term, was much shorter. That second''s delay between attacks was almost entirely gone now. Her Thunder Shocks looked like bursts of semi-automatic gunfire. Her Shock Waves were close behind. Electro Ball was quicker to charge and could hold its shape over longer distances.


    Best of all was Electric Terrain. Its range had improved greatly alongside her general storage capacity. Mareep had trouble building up a charge inside their bodies as opposed to just around their wool, but not so for flaaffy. Instead of a mere six feet, the move could reach a full fifteen feet in radius, more than double what she had before. Since she''d only newly evolved, I fully expected that radius to expand dramatically as we trained.


    On the other hand, Cotton Spore suffered somewhat. It was a bit of a mixed bag. Less wool meant she had to invest more aura to stimulate growth. It did mean she had better control over the move, a give and take in terms of advantages and disadvantages. I figured it wouldn''t be long before she could grow enough spores to drown the battlefield and smiled because our contest routine would be a cakewalk now.


    The biggest change wasn''t any singular move, but her shift in posture.


    Jeanne had thumbs now. Barely, they were more like stubby little nubs, but she could grip with them. Becoming bipedal also meant her forelimbs were now arms, capable of far more precise movements than she could perform while pointing with her snout as a mareep. The longer tail also helped. No longer did she have to flip her entire quadrupedal body around to launch attacks from her tail-bulb. Now, she could flick the thing like a whip and I made a note to look into Iron Tail sometime in the future.


    After testing, just for kicks, I had Jeanne focus an Electro Ball while standing in a slanted stance. Her paws were held a few inches apart and tucked into her hip in a classic Kamehameha pose.


    "Good, good," I encouraged her. "Yeah, just like that. Charge. As tight as you can."


    "Flaaf," she grunted in exertion. An enormous electrical charge built up between her paws as the orb became brighter and brighter.


    "Now release! Kamehameha!"


    "Flaaaaffff!" she roared, thrusting the orb forward on both paws.


    The Electro Ball shot forward like a bullet, expanding midflight from a small pinprick to a pulsing orb of power as large as my face. It collided with a nearby tree and blasted clean through, sending a shower of splinters around the clearing. I held up Artoria and she cast a lazy Protect to deflect any coming our way.


    ''My lord, should you really name an attack after a children''s cartoon?''


    ''I should. The meme-gods demand it.''


    ''Wasn''t the original Kamehameha a beam? Jeanne''s Electro Ball is an orb.''


    I offered her a mental shrug. ''Details.''


    ''Besides, "Turtle Destruction Wave" is hardly appropriate considering she is not a turtle nor is her attack a wave.''


    ''Hmm¡­ You do have a point. Maybe Hadouken would be better?'' I mused as I absently scratched Jeanne''s wool. She still had the same sweet spot behind her ears.


    I felt Artoria dig through my memories for the reference. ''Wave-Motion Fist? That is¡­ better¡­ I still don''t think we should try to recreate attacks from children''s games. It feels... immature.''


    ''Nonsense. Just wait ''til you have your Excali-spoon.''


    ''I am not calling it that.''


    ''Why not?''


    ''It sounds stupid.''


    ''Bah, what is dignity before the glory of the spoon?''


    ''No.''


    ''Spoon-caliber?''


    ''Definitely not.''


    ''We''ll see. Besides, Mana Edge and Mana Burst are both names taken from the original Artoria. Well, it was called "Prana Burst," but same difference.''


    She huffed in annoyance. ''My lord is a chuuni.''


    I laughed. ''Oh, hey, you finally used that word right. See? We''re all chuuni. We''re a team of chuuni. And, in a world where the power of friendship is a tangible force, our chuuni-ness will propel us to greatness.''


    I could literally feel her resignation through our empathic bond. ''Very well, my lord¡­ if you say so.''


    And thus, Jeanne learned the Hadouken.


    X


    That evening, after a dinner of risotto prepared with a medley of wild mushrooms and dried currants, Jeanne stood across from Artoria. As always with pok¨¦mon, the best way for Jeanne to get accustomed to her new body was combat.


    I stood in the middle of the clearing between the two so as to not favor either side. In my hand was an ¨¦clair, the last one I packed. Thanks to the wonders of hammerspace technology, it was still almost as good as when I first bought it and the creamy pastry was a favorite of both pok¨¦mon.


    "Alright, this''ll be a spar. Victor gets the last ¨¦clair. Jeanne, ready?"


    "Flaaffy!"


    "Artoria?"


    ''Of course, my lord.''


    ''Wait for her to decide the pace then react. This is about helping her get used to her new body in a fight.''


    ''Yes, my lord.''


    ''Thanks, you''re the best. I''ve got another ¨¦clair in my bag.''


    ''That''s not the last one?''


    ''No, but she''ll fight harder with it on the line.''


    ''My lord is devious.''


    "Now," I called. "Go!"


    Jeanne, flashy as ever, immediately goes for a Hadouken, Charge followed up with Electro Ball in an all-out burst. Artoria rolled her eyes and slid into a defensive stance. Her spoon glowed with the now-familiar sheen of Light Screen.


    Then, with a bleating roar, Jeanne''s attack rocketed towards my starter.


    She caught it in the blink of an eye, nabbing the orb of electrical death in the head of her spoon like she''d scooped up the oddish back at the trainer school. Then, in the same, fluid motion, she flicked it to the side, leaving it to sail behind her and through some poor tree.


    "Kirlia, kirlia kir," she chided. If I knew her as well as I thought I did, it was a lecture about skill and technique overcoming raw power.


    That only seemed to fire up my lamb even more. A corona of white-hot resolve surrounded her as she stamped her feet into the dirt. The brilliant yellow of Electric Terrain filled the surrounding clearing.


    She then swept her tail forward as the gem shone brightly. The Flash caught Artoria by surprise, leaving Jeanne enough time to draw upon the terrain and launch a barrage of Shock Waves. I counted Twenty-seven bolts in all, each with far more force behind them than when she''d been a mareep.


    Artoria had her own ace however, something she''d been cultivating for weeks since her evolution: The kirlia stage of a ralts'' life was roughly when they started to develop precognitive abilities. It was something she''d yet to use in combat, but I''d been training it with her consistently over the past five weeks. Whenever we merged senses, I''d look away while tossing a pebble in her direction, forcing her to predict where I''d strike from without relying on her other senses.


    The constant harassment we called training paid dividends now. Even without sight, she twisted out of the line of fire, dodging more than half of them before rushing forward with a flurry of cuts fueled by Mana Edge.


    Jeanne reacted by trying to slow down her advance with Cotton Spore, only to have Artoria teleport behind her. The retaliatory strike knocked her clean out of the Electric Terrain.


    "Kirlia?" Artoria trilled with concern.


    "Flaaffy!" Jeanne bleated back, rolling to her feet.


    Artoria nodded with a proud smile and brandished her spoon. They charged towards each other at some unspoken signal.


    Jeanne herself had grown a fair bit. Though she wasn''t much faster as a flaffy, she was significantly stronger and more dexterous with her arms. She also augmented the Take Downs and Shock Waves with a hefty mix of Protect. Her larger size and increased stamina allowed her to take a more defensive style in close quarters and, though she didn''t win, was able to tire Artoria far more than she could before.


    Author''s Note


    Actually had this punishment before from my parents. Fed me nothing but sweets for a few days. Couldn''t look at a Hershey''s bar without feeling sick. Funny, but I still have no idea what I did to deserve it. All I know now is that I don''t have much of a sweet tooth.


    On another note, try peaches and burrata on a sandwich. It''ll change your life. Or at least your sandwich game. Bonus points if you scorch the peach slices a bit until the surface is nice and caramelized.


    Is Aaron too much of a chuuni? Nah. No such thing.


    Thank you for reading. To reach a wider audience, and because I enjoy a more forum-like setup to facilitate discussion, I like to crosspost to a wide variety of websites. You can find them all on my Link Tree: https://linktr.ee/fabled.webs.</a>

 3.3 Soup

    Soup 3.3


    Aaron Fulan


    Petalburg Woods, Hoenn Region


    The forest stretched all around us like an emerald sea. No matter where I looked, all I could find were browns and broad-leafed greens. It was honestly a little intimidating, being so far in the wilds with nothing but me, my friends, and my supplies. I had of course downloaded a map on my Pok¨¦Nav as well as purchased a paper copy. I knew I was going the right way, but I felt that I''d underestimated what it''d be like to spend several weeks in the forest, especially considering that rangers seldom patrolled this deep.


    Here, the days were short, the sunlight blocked out an hour or two earlier by the thick canopy. More than once, I''d overestimated the amount of daylight I had left and was forced to eat cold rations for the evening rather than set up a proper campfire in the dark. Every night, I had to spend a few minutes spraying the edge of my sleeping area with a repel to deter wild pok¨¦mon.


    And wasn''t that itself a balancing act? Placing repels could be tricky. I had to be mindful of Jeanne''s sensitive nose and make a wider ring around the camp than I would prefer; otherwise, she''d never sleep and by extension ensure I wouldn''t either. There was a balance in quantity of use as well. Too little and it''d go ignored. Too much and¡­ well¡­ it wasn''t unheard of for strong pokemon to decide they''d rather end the nuisance than avoid it. You could only wave a stink bomb so long before someone stepped up to kick your ass after all.


    All that to say, camping off-route like this was an interesting experience. I learned a lot, as much from guides recommended by rangers as from trial and error, but I decided I''d be happier sticking to the routes from now on. It wasn''t that the Petalburg Woods were all that dangerous, not the section I was in, but all this green was starting to grate on my patience a bit. How did sailors do it? Staring at nothing but blue and more blue¡­


    Jeanne, Artoria, and I ambled along south to Oldale. As always, both pokemon were doing some precision training exercises. Jeanne had taken to building up a small marble of electricity with her tail and juggling it between her newly evolved arms while she walked. Coordination and control in one simple exercise.


    Artoria spun her spoon in elaborate patterns around herself like something out of a marching band, each twirl sending ribbons of Reflect and Light Screen spiraling through the air. Every so often, Jeanne and I would flick light Thunder Shocks and pebbles at her in an attempt to trip her up. Her precognition was improving, enough so that she could easily deflect all but Jeanne''s fastest Thunder Shocks without breaking stride.


    I myself spent most of my morning stretching my mind and tagging different nearby pokemon to see if there was any who might make a good teammate. With their training so far along, I figured a third member of the team would be timely.


    I saw a great deal of biodiversity, far more than in the games, but none I wanted to claim for myself. Shroomish, oddish, bellsprout, sunkern, and hoppip were given considering we were in a grass type paradise. Once, I even saw a tropius lazily grazing from the canopy. There were also a fair number of bird pokemon like pidgey and spearow as well as swablu, taillow, and the occasional independent natu.


    And yet, I rejected them all for one reason or another. Despite popular depictions, pokemon weren''t all battle-nuts. Or if they were, not in the way I needed. Most pokemon wanted to be stronger on some level, but so did most humans. In the same way that everyone wants six pack abs, every pokemon wants to evolve; it just so happens that like with humans, few are willing to commit.


    MoreI needed ambition. I didn''t just want a power-hungry pokemon, I wanted someone who had a dream to chase. Was it a shonen cliche? Sure, but I lived in a shonen world. Friendship had real power here, and one of the best ways I knew of to build friendship was to pursue a dream together. If that meant I ended up with nothing but oddballs on my team, then so be it.


    Lastly, and perhaps most importantly, I needed dedication. I needed someone who was so desperate to achieve their dreams that they''d abandon everything they knew to pursue it. I wanted a pokemon who wanted us.


    Power. Dream. Dedication. In that specific combination? I as starting to find that such a thing was exceedingly rare in even the more combat-oriented pokemon we''d come across.


    So I searched, challenged, and observed, again and again until the sun was high in the sky.


    Then I got bored of doing that, so I too drew my bokken, except I was more concerned with focusing any psychic aura through my sword, never mind a specific move. I tired myself quickly, a mental ache I could feel in the form of a throbbing migraine, but a late lunch perked me right back up.


    And then, with my psychic power thoroughly expended, I had nothing to occupy myself with on my walk. For lack of anything else to do, I struck up a conversation with my partner. ''Say, Artoria.''


    ''Yes, my liege?'' she asked through the bond, more humoring me than anything. To her credit, her spiraling routine didn''t pause for a moment.


    ''You sure you have no interest in contests? Because I''m pretty sure you''d make a kickass dancer.''


    ''None whatsoever. The only approval I require is yours.''


    ''Aww, that''s sweet,'' I cooed, giving her a mental hug. ''So how do you feel about Jeanne''s evolution so far? You two have had a few spars now and I figure you have a good idea of her potential.''


    ''Her stamina is impressive,'' she admitted. ''Every aspect of her electrokinetic abilities improved, but it is her staying power that has allowed her to close the gap with me. I ought to work even harder if I wish to remain ahead.''


    ''That right? That''s about my thoughts as well. She''s gotten really good at switching off between her electric attacks and Protect. It''s good that she can swap between offense and defense on a dime since she''s much less mobile than you are.''


    ''Indeed. Will you teach her Magnet Rise soon? I recall seeing it in your memories and a move which allows electric types like her to fly seems too useful to ignore.''


    ''I might, but not immediately. She''s got plenty to work on without me throwing more on the fire.'' Then I decided to rib my adorable knight, just a bit. ''So you''re not upset she evolved?''


    ''Why would I be upset at having a more capable friend?''


    ''Well, she doesn''t walk on four legs anymore.''


    ''I don''t see what you''re getting at.''


    ''You mean you''re fine not having your glorious steed anymore?''


    ''I am not that petty,'' Artoria huffed.


    ''Not even a little sad?''


    ''M-Maybe the next teammate will be an even better mount.''


    ''Hehehe, maybe. Think I should''ve asked mom for a Galarian ponyta?''


    ''No. Absolutely not. My desire for a steed is an insultingly shallow reason to pick teammates. I''d be insulting the ponyta to start, and you, for making you waste a favor to acquire one.''


    ''My Artoria is so grown up,'' I mused fondly. ''I''m sure something interesting''s bound to show up.''


    ''Of course,'' she sniffed, ''we are destined for greatness.''


    I was about to reply but a third mind brushed our bond. It was both alien and familiar, a likeness to our own that even the xatu''s did not possess. We stiffened ramrod straight; there was absolutely no mistaking the presence of another member of the ralts line.


    ''-elp! Help!'' I heard a distinctly male voice ring through my mind, practically hollering for anyone to hear.


    ''Artoria, let''s go!'' I called. It took us a second to pinpoint his position. He was moving relatively quickly in our general direction and had six black voids chasing after him. ''Dark types. Six.''


    ''I feel them, my lord.'' She barked something to Jeanne, getting my flaaffy to turn towards the oncoming commotion with narrowed eyes. The orb of electricity she''d been juggling between her paws pulsed and grew as she fed it more power.


    "Go on ahead," I told Artoria, committing myself to a battle. It was somewhat risky because we couldn''t identify what they were beyond that they were dark types, but I knew better than to give orders that wouldn''t be followed. This was the equivalent of a toddler screaming for help. Any adult who ignored that was scum, never mind a wannabe knight like Artoria. "Teleport. Jeanne and I will catch up. Save the ralts, then yourself. Don''t try to engage all six on your own."


    "Kir," she nodded in affirmation before vanishing in a flash of blue.


    "Let''s go, Jeanne."


    "Flaaf!"


    We sprinted through the foliage for several minutes. I barely paid attention to my immediate surroundings as I barreled into bushes and branches. My focus was on Artoria. She''d arrived in the nick of time, bringing her sword in a parry against a poochyena. That made sense. They were some of the most common predators in the forest and one of the few that traveled in packs.


    Behind her, a male ralts stared up at her with his ass planted on the ground, unable to look away from my starter. His eyes widened in awestruck wonder as she twisted her grip, pirouetting against the dark type''s jaws to force it into the dirt. A twist wrenched her spoon from its teeth and a final strike to the head knocked it out of the fight.


    There were three more poochyena as well as a pair of mightyena that led them. I now knew what was going on: This was a test, a way to teach the youngest members of the pack how to hunt. Had circumstances been otherwise, the little ralts would be long dead. The biggest of them barked out a challenging snarl as Artoria hefted her spoon in ch¨±dan no kamae, standard ready posture.


    "Kirlia, kirlia-kir," I heard her reply.


    ''Save the ralts first,'' I reminded her. I could feel the fire of her anger, a righteous wrath at something she considered less than chivalrous. It blazed an ugly red, as hot as I''d ever felt from her. I imagined it was akin to watching pit bulls run down a toddler.


    ''Understood,'' she grunted.


    She spat something that I couldn''t quite catch, undoubtedly an insult, and slid back one step before allowing her knee to crumple. Then, from a half-crouch, she snagged the ralts by the scruff of his neck and blasted upwards in a Mana Burst.


    The two mightyena were too slow to realize what she was doing. She rocketed into the trees and deposited the ralts on the nearest branch so he hung there like a towel on a clothesline. It would have been funny how he curled up to wrap around the wood if the situation wasn''t so dire.


    ''Stay up there,'' I commanded.


    Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.


    ''I can beat them.''


    ''Maybe, but you''re not a berserker. You''re a knight. You''ve saved the kid so wait.''


    ''As you wish, my lord,'' she replied, resigned. I could feel the barely restrained frustration simmering beneath the surface.


    ''When we arrive, Jeanne is going to distract them. You use the distraction to teleport behind the second and end it in one hit.''


    ''As you say.''


    We broke through the treeline seconds later. Despite our sudden arrival, catching two mightyena off guard was a fool''s errand; their acute sense of smell had already alerted them that they had company. The larger of the two snarled something at its peer but never took its eyes off the kirlia in the tree getting ready to strike.


    The second evolved dark type looked towards us and let out a threatening growl. To my shame, I had to admit that I shirked back a little. For an instant, that growl tugged at something primal in me, the part of my lizard brain that told me I was before a predator.


    And then it vanished as Jeanne stepped forward, brilliant sparks dancing along the wool on her neck like the world''s most dangerous feather boa. Evolution had given her a lot of self-confidence, enough to face her natural predator. Or was it that after the mother ursaring, a single mightyena and a handful of pups seemed far less threatening?


    Regardless, that gave me the moment I needed to catch my breath and step up. My pokemon were willing to fight so I wouldn''t let them down.


    "Jeanne, Thunder Shock, barrage!" I called.


    "Flaaf!" she yelled. The orb of electricity in her hand scattered. I''d initially planned on a single, overwhelming Electro Ball to knock a mightyena out of the fight but decided against it when I saw that surprise wasn''t possible. The move still took too long for a flaaffy.


    Jeanne''s constant practice juggling orbs paid off. Instead of a single, strong shot, the orb of electricity in her hand scattered into two dozen minor blasts. None of them would take anyone down but against five opponents, I considered the tradeoff worthwhile.


    The mightyena facing us was the only one that managed to fully leap clear. The three poochyena flattened themselves against the dirt but could not avoid everything. I winced as I heard them yelp in pain; it sounded far too much like crying puppies for my liking.


    The larger mightyena that had been snarling up at Artoria almost escaped the salvo untouched, but couldn''t quite twist out of the way in time to avoid a glancing blow against his rump. I doubted the singed fur could even be noticed against its natural dark coat.


    That momentary distraction was enough. Artoria teleported behind it, Mana Edge primed and swinging. Her spoon landed with a dull crack against the back of its skull, sending it crashing to the ground.


    And yet, it bounced back almost immediately as Artoria teleported to my side.


    "Spore. Lock them down," I told Jeanne before transitioning to telepathy to convey my orders faster. ''I don''t think you have enough psychic power to overwhelm a dark type yet, Arotria. Hit and run with Double Team and Teleport. After Jeanne sets the field, you''re going to run interference while she snipes them down.''


    ''Yes, my lord.''


    "Flaa-feeeee," Jeanne cried as the patches of wool on her head and neck expanded rapidly in volume. Spores of electrified wool detached themselves as she swung her head side to side, launching with considerable accuracy towards the pack.


    This unusual attack was enough to severely hamper the poochyena. They could still move, but had to constantly watch their step. The two mightyena took that as their cue to split in separate directions, or they would have had Artoria not teleported right next to the smaller one, lashing out with a shoulder-check that knocked it into its leader.


    "Mii!" it yelled in surprise.


    "Kirlia!" Artoria''s battlecry sounded through the grove, still more adorable than actually threatening.


    The first mightyena let out an annoyed growl, probably a swear in pokespeak, and shrugged the lighter one off it. It then lunged over its companion towards Artoria, only for her to split into six clones. She didn''t let up for a second. A dozen blows rained down on the mightyena as she flitted from place to place. She had all but replaced flight with teleportation. She was determined to overwhelm the dark type''s innate resistance with quantity if not quality.


    Jeanne played off that distraction perfectly, launching three Shock Waves to finish off the encumbered poochyena.


    The lead mightyena lunged again; I could see the dark miasma cloaking its fangs. Kids in Hoenn learned early on that mightyena had one of the strongest bite force of any land-walking predator. If one of those Bites landed, Artoria could easily lose a limb.


    Atoria continued their game of tag, never letting either lupine turn towards Jeanne without a harsh stroke to its sensitive nose. I could see the two mightyena grow increasingly frustrated with every miss. Their emotions were voids to me, but it was clear that they were becoming sloppy. One even used a downed poochyena as a springboard without noticing.


    Then, one mightyena crunched down over the throat of a kirlia, only for the clone to vanish and reveal a sneakily hidden spore. It choked and coughed, pawing at its jaws to try and release the extra-dense wool caught in its teeth.


    "Kir-li-AAA!" Artoria cried as she kicked off a nearby tree trunk. The trunk burst into a shower of splinters as her launch became too much for it to handle.


    She used her full body as an axle and spun through the air like a pinwheel before bringing her sword down on the distracted mightyena''s neck like a guillotine. A loud crack rang through the clearing and the mightyena was too unconscious to care about the wool in its teeth.


    The second whirled towards Artoria to try and avenge its mate, but Jeanne didn''t waste the opportunity. She bleated out a battle cry that was still more cute than fierce and an Electro Ball burst against its torso.


    Her attack was only a little larger than a golf ball in diameter, but appearances could be deceiving. It was a tightly condensed ball of electrical energy, with so much stored energy that it could impart actual, physical force as it expanded. It became an explosion of sparks on collision, enveloping the mightyena fully with room to spare.


    I heard the dark type cry out as it was blasted into the dirt. It sounded uncomfortably like a kicked dog, with that "keng" noise that almost made me feel like the bad guy.


    ''They are the ones chasing a youngling,'' Artoria huffed. ''They have no room to complain now that someone stronger has come to do battle.''


    ''Yeah, I know. I just like dogs.''


    ''These are not the leal creatures you knew.''


    ''They''re loyal, just not to us. Loyalty can come in many forms.''


    ''Is this truly the time for a lecture, my lord?''


    ''Hah, fine. Let''s get out of here. Get the ralts down from the tree; he looks like one of my socks left to dry.''


    ''Rude,'' she shot back, bemusement coloring her aura now that the danger had passed. ''He''s bigger than a sock¡­ probably¡­''


    ''Look at you making short jokes now. Wasn''t so long ago that I stuffed you in my jacket pocket.''


    ''Hmph! One day, when I am a gardevoir, I shall remember that indignity.''


    ''You will,'' I agreed, ''and you''ll look back and laugh because I''ll have taught you what good humor is like.''


    ''"Corrupted." The word you are looking for is "corrupted," my lord.''


    Jeanne walked around the grove, swiftly zapping anyone still conscious back to dreamland. She reached one of the poochyena and tapped its snout with the tip of her tail. "Flaaf?"


    "Hmm?"


    "Flaaffy? Flaa?" she asked, gesturing to my belt.


    "Oh, do I want a poochyena?"


    "Flaf."


    "Nope. Not really. I do like dogs, but I don''t think Artoria''s too fond of them and even if she was, I don''t feel comfortable taking a pup from its parents¡­ or whatever they are to each other."


    It also helped that they weren''t particularly strong pokemon. Unlike houndoom, the other dark-doge, mightyena fell behind in too many areas to be worth raising. I remembered using one in the games, but that came with Moxie as a hidden ability. I could hardly rely on game logic to see me through here. Raw potential wasn''t everything, but I had to admit it played a significant factor in my mind.


    Jeanne shrugged and loaded each of the downed pokemon with even more Cotton Spores after the round of Thunder Waves. They''d recover in short order and the spores would fall off, but we''d be long gone with the little ralts by then.


    Speaking of, Artoria hopped down from the tree and landed by my side. She had the little one in her arms in a traditional princess carry, made easier by the fact that ralts were only a foot and some change tall. Not that Artoria was a giant either, but compared to him, her two feet and change was practically statuesque.


    ''I have returned, my lord,'' she said in my mind. I could feel the moment she pulled the ralts'' mind into our conversation. ''The little one is from a local coven but wandered off while feeling adventurous.''


    ''Is he now?'' I hummed as I looked over the young ralts. He didn''t even notice me looking, so focused was he on my starter. His crimson eyes were wide with the beginnings of hero-worship and I could see him curl deeper into her chest as she stood awkwardly. ''We should take him back then, eh? Does he have a name?''


    ''No. You know names are a human convention.''


    She was right. Most psychics never adopted names when living in the wild, even social ones like the ralts line. This was because they sensed and referred to one another within the context of emotional and cognitive signatures. No verbal name in the world could be as distinct as a mental signature that encapsulated one''s entire identity from birth to, in some precognitive cases, death. ''Fair, but I can''t keep calling him "the little one" forever.''


    ''You''ll just have to make do, my lord.'' She gently pried the ralts from her chest. She coaxed, ''Come now, child. Stand on your own feet.''


    He whined something unintelligible through the bond, a stream of emotions that didn''t quite translate into words. What followed was a rapidfire exchange of emotions and impressions that doubled as a conversation for psychics. I didn''t know what was said exactly, but I let them have their moment.


    After a minute, I took out an oran berry, my pokemon were still sick of the stuff anyway, and passed it to the ralts, like giving a child a lollipop after a doctor''s visit.


    "Come on," I spoke aloud for Jeanne''s benefit. "We should get out of here. Artoria, ask him if he knows where his coven is."


    "Kir, kirlia? Kir-lia?"


    "Ralts¡­ Raalts."


    ''I asked,'' she said in my mind as we began to walk in a seemingly random direction.


    ''And?''


    ''He does not know. He got turned around when he was running.''


    ''Lovely¡­'' I sighed as Jeanne trotted beside me. "You did good, Jeanne. Your attacks are really coming together."


    "Flaaf!" she bleated happily. Neither of my pokemon had taken a single hit in the entire exchange and it was almost entirely thanks to Jeanne''s bevy of crowd control options. Cotton Spore. Thunder Wave. Salvos of electric attacks that could act as cover for Artoria. It hadn''t been long, but my little lamb had already grown to be quite the artillery menace.


    I reached down and scritched between a horn and ear, just where she liked best. I smiled as she cooed, slowing down so she could savor more of the sensation.


    I decided to try and talk to the ralts directly. Now that he wasn''t screaming his figurative head off, his mind felt noticeably distinct from Artoria''s. It was far less organized, lacking a structure that came with both power and experience. Still, I at least had some experience communing with an immature psychic. ''Hey, can you hear me?''


    Nonsense. I received nonsense in response, just a pulse of emotions and experiences that didn''t quite fit into human language. Then the connection cut out for a moment and I got the distinct impression that he was gathering his thoughts, like someone who''d arrived in a foreign country and had to brush up on a language they''d only studied in high school.


    ''H-Hello, human,'' he tried, only for Artoria to let out a mental cough.


    ''Lord. He is my sworn liegelord and master, the only man worthy of my blade,'' she corrected. ''If you wish to follow the knightly path such as I, you too must find a lord worthy of your service.''


    I tried, but I couldn''t quite suppress a snort that was halfway between exasperation and fondness. ''Oh, is that what you two were talking about? Ignore her. I don''t make Artoria call me "lord" and I''m definitely not going to make you do that. It''s Aaron.''


    ''L-Lord Aaron?'' the shy ralts tried, halfway between pleasing Artoria''s sensibilities and my own insistence on informality. The result just confused him further.


    ''You know what? Sure. Whatever makes you comfortable. Just keep walking. We want to put some distance between you and the mightyena before they get themselves in order.'' I was under no delusion that we could truly run from them, they could smell a target from a mile away, but we did thoroughly beat the fight out of them so I didn''t think they''d come find us again if we put enough of a gap between us. ''Besides, I suspect your coven will find you without much trouble if we just keep wandering around.''


    ''Y-Yes, sir.''


    I rolled my eyes goodnaturedly as we walked. I could see him taking every chance to glance towards Artoria. He tried to copy everything about her, from her confident gait to the way she mentally scanned for threats. He probably thought he was being subtle; the budding crush was adorable.


    Then I saw his face burn red and I knew my thoughts weren''t nearly as private as I''d hoped. It was a natural downside of being around immature psychics. It was all too easy for one to forget that the line was still connected.


    ''Oops, sorry,'' I apologized as sincerely as I could. ''I shouldn''t poke fun.''


    ''My lord enjoys being a reprobate,'' Artoria added with a huff. ''Do not mind his wandering mind; humans are inherently disorganized creatures.''


    ''Awfully rude thing to say about "your lord."''


    ''The truth is a blade sharper than any. If my words sting, it must be because they ring true to your ears, my lord.''


    ''Do I need to tell him about your eating contest?''


    Artoria almost tripped over thin air as I sent her an image of my vomit-soaked t-shirt, after ensuring my thoughts were private this time. ''T-There is no need for that!''


    ''Or of you in the mornings?''


    ''You''ve proven your point, my lord. I concede defeat.''


    ''Good,'' I smiled, self-satisfied. ''Now, how big was your coven, kid?''


    ''O-One gardevoir, sir,'' he stammered. ''Two kirlia and five more ralts.''


    ''Huh¡­ That''s smaller than I expected. Well, that''s fine. How hard can it be to find your family?''


    Author''s Note


    Does that ralts have a thing for strong, older women now? Yes, yes he does. Core memories and all that.


    Have an animal fact: In Frozen II, Olaf the Snowman says that turtles can breathe through their butts. This is, in fact, true. Kind of. Strictly speaking, the term is cloacal respiration.


    When a turtle hibernates, it will diffuse carbon dioxide out and oxygen in through its cloaca as its primary mode of respiration, which, yes, is the anus-analog.


    Bonus fact: Turtles do not have diaphragms. They cannot because their shells keep their chests from expanding sufficiently.


    Thank you for reading. To reach a wider audience, and because I enjoy a more forum-like setup to facilitate discussion, I like to crosspost to a wide variety of websites. You can find them all on my Link Tree: https://linktr.ee/fabled.webs.</a>

 3.4 Soup

    Soup 3.4


    Aaron Fulan


    Petalburg Woods, Hoenn Region


    For once in a long while, I was right and testing Murphy didn''t in fact get me a swift kick to the nads. We weren''t even fifteen minutes away from the tied up mightyena pack when a kirlia dove down from the trees in front of us. Female, if the slight curvature of her ruby crests was any indication. I felt unreasonably proud for being able to distinguish a kirlia''s gender.


    ''That is indeed another female member of my species. Truly, my lord''s perceptiveness is peerless under the heavens,'' Artoria drawled, tone drier than a krookodile''s scales.


    ''And it only took me thirteen years of growing up surrounded by psychics,'' I chirped back happily. My kirlia rolled her eyes but transmitted the appropriate greetings towards the newcomer.


    The newcomer, the male ralts'' older sibling from what I could understand, looked practically identical to Artoria, which was a good reason for me to never acquire a second pokemon of the same species, but for a few minor differences.


    Artoria''s skin was a darker shade of eggshell white, if only because she got a lot more sun than anyone living beneath the forest canopy did. I noticed that Artoria was also an inch or so taller. It wasn''t much, but considering neither of them had many inches to spare, it was noticeable.


    I then felt Artoria link all four of us and I felt some pity for Jeanne. It couldn''t be fun being excluded from the conversation all the time. I crouched and leaned back against a tree, pulling my not-a-lamb-anymore pokemon into my lap. I pulled out her favorite brush and proceeded to pamper her a bit while we talked.


    ''We are not short, my lord,'' Artoria said patiently, having caught the tail end of my thoughts. ''It is you humans who are unreasonably tall.''


    ''Is¡­ Is your human mocking us?'' the second kirlia questioned. She sounded unsure of whether to be indignant or amused.


    ''Me?'' I gasped in mock offense. ''Never. I assure you, I have nothing but the utmost respect for your species. Why, growing up, it was Alice who washed my mouth out with soap every time I said a naughty word. I only tried to shave her bald sixteen times in retaliation before I gave up.''


    ''I¡­ What? What does that have to do with anything? And who''s Alice?''


    ''My mother''s gardevoir of course! When Artoria and I finally triumph over our parents, I will finally succeed in my lifelong mission to shave Alice bald.''


    ''Why? Why are you so fixated on¡­ on shaving a gardevoir¡­?''


    ''For science! And to assert my dominance... But mostly science!''


    Artoria practically bulldozed herself into the conversation. She was blazing in a cocktail of auras. Humiliation. Exasperation. Indignation. Fondness. Humor. But most of all, embarrassment.


    And it was delicious. Just seeing it made me wonder if I''d spontaneously gained her ability to nourish myself from emotions.


    ''You have not,'' Artoria growled in our minds. ''Ignore him, kirlia. My lord insists on being as ridiculous as possible to get a rise out of people. And we will not be shaving anyone, especially not my mother.''


    ''Fine, fine, spoilsport. So, kirlia, is the rest of your coven nearby?''


    ''Are all humans as strange as you?'' She asked, utter bewilderment filling our connection. Then she visibly shook her head to clear it of stray thoughts. ''No, not important. Yes. The matriarch was able to divine my brother''s location when you separated from the mightyena chasing you.''


    ''Fair enough. Dark type interference. Heard that before. Do you need help getting your little brother home safe?''


    ''No, that''s fine. I have to ask however¡­ The matriarch could not sense you. Why? You are clearly familiar with psychics. Have you discovered some way to hide yourself much like a dark type?''


    I blinked in confusion before cutting the connection to think things through. Lesson one of dealing with telepaths: Compartmentalize. It was a lesson I hadn''t needed to apply until we''d met the ralts because Artoria and I shared everything.


    I wasn''t hiding. In fact, I had no idea how to do something like that. Mom probably had a trick or two to disrupt scrying attempts against her, but I sure as hell didn''t. Then it hit me: the gardevoirite. Her matriarch was sensing the mega stone, and like all relics, it told all diviners to fuck off.


    I didn''t think it''d hide me as its current wielder, even if in the loosest of terms, but I was grateful for it. Anti-scrying protections were quite rare outside of specific dark type specialists or extremely well-trained psychics and me just stumbling on one was, frankly, ridiculously lucky.


    On the other hand, it was a good reminder that psychics could scry people near me even if I myself was immune now. I''d have to keep that in mind going forward.


    Also, it meant mom definitely knew I''d gotten my hands on another relic.


    ''Oh, well,'' I thought, ''let that be an issue for later. I''ll give mom a call once I get to Oldale¡­'' I threaded myself back into the telepathic conversation. My work was far cruder than anything Artoria or the second kirlia could manage, but that I could forge the connection voluntarily was itself progress. ''Sorry, didn''t think anyone would notice that. I grew up in a psychic gym.''


    ''Mossdeep? Even the Petalburg covens know of that place across the sea,'' the kirlia said. ''At any rate, thank you for rescuing my brother.''


    ''It was the right thing to do,'' Artoria said solemnly. ''As a knight, it is my sworn duty to protect the weak.''


    ''A knight¡­?''


    ''Indeed! I have sworn to wield only this sword until the day I can best my father in a duel of blades. I hone my skills daily in anticipation for that day. And in doing so, I shall become a shield to protect the defenseless and a sword to judge the wicked! That is the path of knighthood!'' Artoria declared grandly. She''d jumped onto a nearby rock and was brandishing her spoon like Lady Liberty holding her torch up high.


    ''You¡­ You know you cannot become a gallade, right¡­?'' the other kirlia said, trying to crush her dreams as gently as possible.


    ''The virtues of chivalry are not bound by gender! I shall rise above my limitations and become the greatest knight to ever live!''


    ''Right¡­'' She grabbed the starstruck ralts by the scruff of his robe. ''We''re going to go now¡­ Thanks for your help and all¡­''


    Then, with a flash of blue light, they were gone.


    Artoria looked at me strangely as she stepped off her soapbox. ''Was it something I said?''


    I shook my head and did my best to stifle my laughter. Leave it to Artoria to chuuni her way through our first interaction with a wild kirlia. ''Nope. You''re golden, Artoria. I thought you were quite eloquent.''


    ''Perhaps knighthood is a difficult concept to understand for someone who lives in the woods¡­''


    ''Did¡­ Did you just call them bumpkins?''


    ''I did no such thing, my lord. I am merely pointing out that without the stellar example of chivalry that is my father, she lacks the appropriate frame of reference to appreciate the value of the knightly virtues.''


    I thought about her father, Quinn, mom''s gallade. I thought about the overly formal pokemon who acted as mom''s butler and bodyguard, how he watched every period drama he could get his hands on and how he even took up medieval poetry as a hobby.


    Truly, the leppa did not fall far from the tree with these two¡­


    ''You are thinking something unflattering about us,'' Artoria pouted adorably.


    ''No,'' I defended myself. ''I was just thinking that you and Quinn are a lot alike, that''s all.''


    ''Truly? Do you mean it?''


    ''I wouldn''t lie to you, Artoria.''


    ''You would. You told me back in Mauville that horseradish was just a lum berry mash,'' she said accusingly.


    ''One time! And I got you ice cream to make up for the prank.''


    ''The point stands. You would lie to me if it amused you.''


    ''Only for harmless things.''


    ''My mouth begs to differ, my lord. There was nothing harmless about your prank. I did not know sinuses could burn like that.''


    ''Fine, fine. You win. I''m an awful lord who pranks his adorable knight. Happy?''


    ''No! Despite your eccentricities, you are a fantastic liege. I will serve no other,'' Artoria vowed.


    Reaching down, I grave her crests a good pat. I stood and dusted myself off, nudging Jeanne to her feet. She awoke from her dozing and grazing with a bit of static that tingled my fingers. I pulled out my map and reoriented ourselves before setting off. "You two did well today, but let''s get moving."


    X


    After that unexpected but friendly encounter with a coven, we made good headway southward. We had one more encounter with a mightyena, but he was not part of the pack we''d seen harassing Artoria''s not-so-secret admirer. Beyond that, Artoria and I were able to navigate the forest safely by psychically scanning for hostile intentions, something I was growing very good at through constant training and exposure. I was starting to find that one of the best perks of being a psychic was that I could pick and choose the confrontations I wanted.


    For example, in order to teach Artoria and Jeanne how to cope with flying opponents, we intentionally made a detour into a small flock of spearow. Artoria got to master Teleport against multiple aerial opponents. Jeanne got target practice with Shock Wave and Electro Ball. I got to dump the rest of my oran berry stash to soothe the flock''s ruffled feathers.


    Over the next few days, they''d fully mastered the moves they had and I saw fit to change their routine.


    In Artoria''s case, I deemed it right to finally start her on her fairy type mastery. I''d been pushing it off long enough, although truth be told, I''d have pushed it even further back in favor of being able to teleport with living things.


    After some deliberation, I decided against advanced teleportation training as I didn''t feel comfortable with the risks on my own. Some pokemon, the ralts line included, had an easier time learning it than others, but that didn''t mean the process was simple. Easier, not easy. This was the kind of training mom provided for League-sponsored psychics in exchange for shitloads of cash after all. Even with manuals from the Summers family library, I didn''t want to mess with it until I was out of the forest and could call home again.


    Thus, fairy type mastery, and wasn''t that a can of worms too.


    Artoria was a very straightforward person. She just didn''t cope well with the more metaphysical aspects of her training, as had been proven with her still limited mastery of Shadow Sneak. The only reason I felt comfortable with Artoria attempting to channel fae aura was because she had a teacher of sorts: the mega stone.


    Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.


    The mega stone subtly radiated both psychic and fae aura so I had Artoria meditate with it. Her first task was to parse the two and dismiss the psychic half. She was effectively trying to synchronize her own aura with the fairy half to get a feel for the sensation. She wasn''t all that thrilled with the nebulous nature of the exercise at first, but when I gave her a mental image of her swinging a fairy-aligned sword to slay salamence, she got more motivated.


    When in doubt, feed the chuuni. It was practically my training philosophy at this point.


    Jeanne wasn''t idle either. If anything, she improved faster than Artoria because where Artoria''s teacher was a literal rock, Jeanne''s teacher was Artoria herself.


    With her mastery of Electro Ball, I felt that it was finally time for her to branch out to learn a move that was normally only available through TM: Agility. Whenever Artoria became frustrated with "whispering to the moon" as she called it, I had her do some physical conditioning as she explained the nuances of harnessing psychic energy for physical reinforcement to Jeanne.


    She was still a far cry from rivaling Artoria''s Mana Burst, but Jeanne got the hang of psychic aura fairly quickly and could now zip around fast enough to confuse the fuck out of passing pokemon. I wouldn''t say it was combat-ready, but she was getting there quickly, which in turn meant Electro Ball would become far deadlier.


    I practiced my own psychic reinforcement as my bokken sang through the air with thoughts of a free-flying mega ampharos floating through my mind. As far as I was concerned, Agility and Magnet Rise were the keys to making Jeanne a true lightning dragon. Besides the ampharosite in New Mauville of course.


    X


    We were stopped for lunch. After multiple days of eating chalky rations that clung to the throat, I felt the need to indulge a little. As far as either Atoria or I could tell, we were only two days from Oldale anyway, so using up some of our abundant supplies didn''t feel like a self-induced tragedy waiting to happen.


    I decided to settle for something a friend showed me in my previous life. I still remembered Walter fondly as a naturalist and avid hunter. He and I met over a HEMA conference, where I ended up giving him some pointers on the longsword and he showed me how to use a hunting bow to actually hit something more than fifteen feet away from me. After that, he and his family were kind enough to invite me out camping a few times. Aside from the Mossdeep Trainer School, he was one of the main sources of my campground cooking knowledge.


    One of his favorites, which quickly became mine as well, was a simple blend of bell peppers, onions, mushrooms, and spicy sausages in a foil packet, tossed directly into the fire pit. Or in my case, placed right next to the heat so everything could steam through. The juices from the vegetables would blend with the oils from the sausage to flavor everything uniformly. Walter swore it was Brazilian, though fuck if I knew.


    I didn''t have the brand of spicy sausage I wanted, but I''d settled on a beef and pork variant from Olivine. It had been flavored with tamato berries apparently. Those spiky, crimson not-tomatoes were spicy instead of acidic and they had a heated floral note that reminded me a bit of habaneros.


    I quickly mixed up some garlic butter and lathered it onto a thick slice of bread before leaving that to toast in a pan. ''Artoria, you want what I''m making or you want pokechow?''


    She gave me a gimlet side-eye, the mega stone hovering a few inches off her palms. ''Will it be spicy?''


    ''No? Spicy sausages, but that''ll be diluted by the onions and peppers. And they''re not that spicy to begin with, just a bit of kick.''


    ''Then yes, please.''


    ''Cool.'' I diced up some cheri berries in a bed of arugula, alfalfa, and kale for Jeanne before sprinkling the salad mix with protein and iron supplements. From what the Verdanturf nurse told me, herbivores like Jeanne could struggle to get these nutrients, especially when on the move. She''d been kind enough to recommend a brand and told me to mix a dose with her food every few days.


    "Flaaf?" Jeanne bleated as she ran by, her sixth lap around the grove we''d set up in. Seeing her food was finished, she skidded to a stop near me and raised her paws towards the sun with a cheer. "Flaaffy!"


    "Yeah, lunch is ready, Jeanne. Great work out there," I told her, sliding her the bowl. I picked out my foil packet and garlic bread before sawing off a neat little slice for Artoria. She was almost twice the size she was as a ralts, but even then, slightly north of two feet wasn''t exactly towering.


    We gathered around to tuck into lunch, Artoria having gingerly returned the mega stone into my bag, when we were interrupted by loud squeals and howls. They sounded wholly foreign to my ears, not quite pokespeach, but not the mindless roaring of wild animals either. Artoria groaned but brandished her spoon for war.


    "Do you smell anything, Jeanne?"


    "Flaaffy," she nodded. She swayed her tail and began to build sparks in the bulb.


    ''Mankey, my lord,'' Artoria said. She focused for a moment. ''A troupe of fourteen. No primeape.''


    I nodded and stretched my own senses, confirming what she''d told me. Out of all the pokemon I''d seen in the forest, they were some of the least difficult to read, and paradoxically, the most difficult because of it. They were angry. The red of rage floated around their bodies like a bloody haze even when they were resting or eating, making discerning any other emotion difficult.


    A handful of seconds later, the fourteen mankey entered the grove. Each ranged between a foot to two feet tall. They would have been adorable if their lips weren''t pulled back to bear their incisors in a unanimous snarl.


    "Man! Mankey! Man-key!" the biggest of them shouted at us. He gestured to the foil packet I made so his intention was obvious.


    I looked around. Fourteen versus three. It was hardly fair and unlike with the mightyena pack, we didn''t get to initiate. Still, the lack of a primeape leader told me that this was likely the exiles of some bigger troupe somewhere. That they were willing to pick a fight with a human was also telling.


    Pokemon, even wild ones, weren''t stupid. As a rule of thumb, they didn''t pick fights with trainers. Not only could a dead trainer lead to increased ranger patrols and the total eradication of their group, humans were seen as highly risky targets in the immediate as well. No one knew how many pokemon a human could be carrying after all, or which species. A human could turn out to be a cornucopia of dimensionally stored food, or a death sentence. That they were willing to be upfront about robbing me meant they were desperate or had been following me for days.


    Artoria and I would have noticed if we were being followed, so that left desperation.


    ''What should we do, my lord?'' Artoria asked, her eyes never leaving the troupe.


    I remembered the ursaring and teddiursa. They taught me that no matter how rabid they seemed, pokemon weren''t wild animals. It took an incredible stroke of fortune and a desperate gamble on the teddirusa''s part, but the mother bear could be reasoned with. I didn''t know how that''d translate to a perpetually angry troupe of monkeys, but¡­ but if negotiation was at all a possibility, then I had to make the effort, right?


    ''We talk to them,'' I decided. I stood and walked over to my bag before rummaging through the dimensional storage. I picked out what was left of my trail mix. I''d overpacked so I had enough for almost a week more, which considering our relative size would mean the entire troupe could eat well. I tore open three bags and poured the contents into the largest pot I had before laying it on the ground.


    That doing so took me within arm''s reach of my bokken was a convenient bonus. We had plenty; I''d be willing to share, but I wasn''t willing to be stupid.


    "Help yourselves," I told them, gesturing to the pot. "You want food, right? That should keep you all going for a day or two."


    "Mankey?" the leader growled. "Man. Man-mankey."


    I glanced at Artoria who dutifully translated with a disapproving frown. ''He is now demanding the rest in your bag, my lord.''


    "No," I refused them, shaking my head to get the point across. "Those are emergency supplies in case we can''t leave the forest in two days for whatever reason."


    "Mankey! Man!" The lead mankey stamped his foot, causing the others to take up the same hooting chant. I didn''t need her to translate; the deepening crimson of their aura was more than enough of a clue.


    Fighting types or not, they were on average a foot and a half tall. I outmassed any of them by a lot, easily tenfold if not greater. I wasn''t terribly worried about dealing with one of them, but more than one could be trouble. Still, I shrugged with faux nonchalance; I knew that anything less than supreme confidence would be dangerous. "Tough. Our food, our rules. Take what''s offered or leave."


    Their cries were like a building crescendo. Their aura became redder and more violent with each cry, like a pot of water about to boil over. Until finally, the lead mankey clawed the air and screeched. "Mankey!"


    I focused on giving Jeanne directions. Artoria already knew what I needed of her, the perks of a telepath so attuned to my own senses. "Flash. Spore. Terrain. Thunder Shock. Wide spread," I barked as I skipped back with my backpack, bokken in hand. The last thing I needed was for t one of them to make off with my bag, and the mega stone stored inside.


    "Flaaffy!" Jeanne cried as the electricity she''d been building in her tail loosed itself as a blinding beacon of light. She couldn''t direct it like a searchlight, but Artoria and I knew it was coming and readily turned our heads.


    The mankey weren''t so lucky. Their screeching battle cries turned into wails of surprise and pain as they clawed at their own eyes. I immediately slung my bag over my shoulder and readied my bokken.


    Artoria had already vanished, striking down the leader with a well-placed Mana Edge. She then whirled her spoon around her in a wide sweep, scattering the troupe.


    A rain of Cotton Spores added to the confusion. Then, as Jeanne built up charge in her tail and was about to slam it down to produce the Electric Terrain, a mankey in the far back screeched something.


    A pale, white orb of light shot out from its swiping paw, rocketing towards her. When it struck, instead of damaging her, Jeanne clapped her paws and raised them towards the sun. "Flaaffy!" she cried, releasing yet another volley of spores that I hadn''t ordered.


    "Fuck Encore," I swore. I backstepped to be closer to my pokemon. Encore was a form of minor hypnosis and emotional manipulation, plain and simple. It greatly heightened the victim''s sense of praise and validation in an attempt to get them to use their previous move again. Unlike in the games, it wasn''t always effective, pokemon expected a confrontational mentality after all and were typically resistant to the praise of the enemy, but that could change depending on the individual.


    In Jeanne''s case, Encore was a move she was particularly susceptible to. Her personality revolved around external validation. She was someone who wanted to be a star and had joined me for that explicit purpose.


    I groaned as those thoughts raced through my mind. I''d have to play along with her altered mentality for now. "Run, Jeanne! Show them how effective your spores are. Shine!"


    "Flaaffy!" she cheered as she skipped backwards. She was in no way faster than the mankey, but the spores made up for the difference.


    I smiled grimly as four broke off to chase her. It sucked to use my artillery as bait, but hopefully she''d break out of the Encore in short order.


    ''Nine left to go,'' I thought.


    I''d hoped that removing the biggest one would demoralize them, but that was unfortunately not what happened. If anything, it seemed to motivate them further, driving the troupe into an incandescent rage. With a berserk screech, eight of the nine rushed her.


    I wondered if that was intentional. A few had gone to take on the Flaaffy, but the majority were here. It wasn''t unreasonable to think they understood basic type matchups, especially considering the presence of multiple ralts covens in the area, but mankey weren''t typically the sort to think too deeply.


    I saw a second and third mankey go down to Artoria''s spoon. Being both fighting types and out-skilled by Artoria, a single Mana Edge was enough to take them out of the fight. That said, one of the remaining six chasing her shouted something and the rest regrouped before moving in a rough circle, watching each other''s backs. Mana Burst was an incredible mobility option, but only in straight lines. They''d caught on to that quickly and adjusted accordingly, leaving only Teleport to watch for.


    That was as much as I got to see because the final mankey that had been hanging back faded back into the grove. That confused me for a moment, mankey were not known for cowardice. Quite the opposite in fact. If anything, bullheaded stupidity fueled by apoplectic rage was more their speed. Then I caught a flash of crimson aura between the branches.


    ''He''s flanking,'' I realized, and not a second too soon.


    I swiveled in place and brought my bokken in a parrying guard, catching the mankey''s Scratch attack on the back of my wooden sword.


    "Man?" it exclaimed in surprise.


    I twisted and tossed it away, but the mankey flipped several times in midair before landing on its feet in a casual crouch.


    Our eyes met and I saw its emotional aura flare into a kaleidoscope of colors. Red, of course, was there. Orange for greed, too. But I also saw streaks of blue, peace, and white, resolve, now that I was looking closer.


    This was it. This was the one. It understood more than brute strength and swarm tactics. It had its eye on the prize, lunging for my bag when every other member of its troupe got distracted in the heat of battle. It used Encore to distract my flaaffy and used its own troupe members to distract Artoria while it went for a seemingly vulnerable trainer.


    This one understood more than rage, and that was when I knew: I found my third member.


    "I want you," I said plainly.


    "Man?"


    "I''m going to catch you."


    It was a declaration of intent, a promise. Its eyes narrowed as the pig monkey scoffed derisively. But there was contemplation too. And suddenly, this was no longer about the food.


    It took a general approximation of a combat stance, with arms spread for Scratch and legs curled to jump. It was sloppy as hell, but still more technique than any of its troupe members had shown. "Man-key. Ma, mankey," he said simply.


    I didn''t speak pokemon, but I understood. It was taking the measure of me now. No backup. No tricks. A duel. For food. For a team member. To prove my worth.


    One day, I wanted to be so good at reinforcement that I could tangle with a fully evolved fighting type like Bruno of the Indigo Elite Four and not be found lacking. This¡­ This wasn''t that. I outmassed the mankey a dozenfold. I had decades of training to fall back on. Every advantage was mine, but¡­ but this was a first step.


    Grinning, I nodded and brandished my sword. Perhaps it was something about fighting spirit. Perhaps the desperation of circumstance nudged me in just the right way, but it clicked. I felt psychic power fill my muscles more readily than any other time before, reinforcing them to match a fighting type pokemon, however small.


    "Come."


    Author''s Note


    This is my ruling concerning Paldea and any future generations if this fic lasts that long. Aaron was reborn before Scarlet and Violet. However, the world is a lot more flushed out than in the games, so it''s not as though Paldea suddenly magically appeared one day. It''s a known quantity and in the same camp as Galar in that the region tends to be fairly reclusive though not outright isolationist.


    This means that the new pokemon are uncommon knowledge in Hoenn, as in a college student can go look up the biodiversity of foreign ecosystems if he felt so inclined. However, it means that the plot of S/V is alien to Aaron, as is the existence of the paradox pokemon.


    So Aaron knows what an annihilape is, just as anyone who''s ever trained one does. They''re extremely rare in the wild, but they do exist in Kanto as there wouldn''t be anything preventing a primeape''s evolution.


    Right, and have an animal fact:


    One of the oldest breeds of domestic rabbit in the world is the Angora rabbit, native to Turkey (Turkiye if you care). Angora, which is now more commonly called Ankara, is the capitol of the nation. The rabbits are bred for wool and meat. Every three months or so, they use shears or just pluck the fur by hand, without pain relief.


    Suffering, thy name is bunny.


    Thank you for reading. To reach a wider audience, and because I enjoy a more forum-like setup to facilitate discussion, I like to crosspost to a wide variety of websites. You can find them all on my Link Tree: https://linktr.ee/fabled.webs.</a>

 3.5 Soup

    Soup 3.5


    Artoria


    Petalburg Woods, Hoenn Region


    A fourth mankey went down to my swing. They''d mostly recovered from Jeanne''s Flash by now and were watching each other as best they could, but any form of teamwork beyond basic swarm tactics was far from their strong suit. I had little trouble teleporting behind the one farthest back, striking before any of them could give vocal warning. Even so, I was forced to take a light graze on the arm in retaliation before I could teleport away.


    I winced, more from the shame of being struck at all than any real pain. These were not true opponents. My lord would be displeased.


    No, I knew he would not be. He often said I was my biggest critic, but I couldn''t help but feel that anything short of a flawless victory was a failing on my part. A knight should be an unconquerable bastion of strength and this was evidence that I must work even harder.


    I redoubled my efforts, flipping the tables and turning what had once been a chase to a guarded encampment. They were huddled like a herd of donphan, back to back to back so as to present no openings. What had once been anger and aggression quickly began to make way for justified caution and fear.


    Good. They spat in my lord''s generosity and were no better than brigands in my eyes. As a knight, it was my sword duty to show them the error of their ways.


    I briefly reached out with my mind to check on the rest of my team.


    Jeanne was doing well in her own right, as expected of my sworn sister. She could be frustrating at times, what with her inexplicable oral fixation and the constant praising of the sun, but she was a reliable friend and ally. She had taken our lord''s words to heart and was running backwards in a fighting retreat that showed off her Cotton Spores to best effect.


    Father once told me that Encore was a move best used on self-aggrandizing blowhards. Mother scolded him and said he was being too harsh. It worked on anyone with an external sense of validation, but most people had that to a degree according to her. I supposed I did as well; I valued my lord''s approval above all else after all¡­


    Was Jeanne a blowhard? She did enjoy being the center of attention, perhaps a bit too much, but I wouldn''t have described her so negatively.


    And yet¡­


    I shook my head and dodged out of the way of a set of sloppy Fury Swipes. I turned the sidestep into a punishing thrust that launched the offender back in line with its brethren. I snorted in contempt. Berserkers and wanton idiots who knew nothing beyond their stomachs.


    It was not my place to chide my sister so, at least not without raising the matter with our lord. Yes, that''s what I''d do, as soon as I was through dealing with these louts.


    I teleported behind another mankey and struck him down, this time ready with a Protect to deflect any counterattacks from his fellows. As I did so, my mind slipped gently into my lord''s, only to find him locked blade to claw with a solitary mankey. How had that one escaped my notice? Why had he not joined his brethren in attacking me?


    I chided myself for the oversight. I''d been so distracted that I forced my lord to draw his blade in his own defense. Pokemon were to protect trainers. Trainers were to push pokemon to new heights. It was not a matter of whether he could or could not defend himself; the simple fact that he had to at all was another failing on my part.


    "I want you," I heard my lord say to the ruddy brown furball, catching me by surprise.


    Him?


    A mankey?


    Why?


    Far be it for me to question my lord, he was wiser than I, but¡­ What did he see in these fools save anger and greed?


    Then again¡­ I had been mistaken about Jeanne as well. To my shame, I dismissed her initially as just an empty-headed diva. She proved me wrong with her dedication and passion, improving to be my rival faster than I could have ever suspected.


    Resigning myself to yet another obnoxiously boisterous teammate, I turned back to the rabble before me. I would trust my lord''s judgment; he''d never let me down before.


    X


    Aaron Fulan


    Petalburg Woods, Hoenn Region


    I stared down my diminutive opponent with respect in my eyes. This one was different. It had shown tactical skill and cunning, using its brethren to leave their ultimate prize vulnerable. It was not the biggest, and likely not the strongest, but it impressed me in its own way.


    We engaged in this standoff for not even ten seconds before it became impatient; it was still a mankey. It lunged with a screeching battle cry, claws extended and glowing white. Fury Swipes.


    I countered with a reinforced strike to the torso. It was hard to be more precise with an opponent this size, but that just meant I didn''t need to do much aiming to strike something important. With the weight difference between us, even a basic strike like this sent it sailing through the air, not hurt, its fighting type robustness saw to that, but also unable to win the clash of momentums.


    Pokemon may be bullshit, but most of them had to obey some laws of physics.


    Getting smacked out of the air did fuck-all to deter the mankey. If anything, it only seemed to stoke the flames of its wrath ever higher. Interestingly enough, this particular pig monkey did not fall into a berserk rage like its fellows. Instead, its rage burned cold, sharpening its focus into a visible aura of white around its body.


    Or that was Focus Energy and I was in for a really shitty time.


    I was right. The next time it lunged, its movements were more concentrated, deliberate in a way that they weren''t before. Rather than wild scratching, the mankey anticipated my counter and hooked its paw onto the wood of the bokken to swing towards my face, screeching bloody murder all the while.


    "Holy fuck!" I cried as panic momentarily overrode my training.


    "MANKEY!" It screeched back, eyes zeroed in on the prize. It grabbed my hair and tried to climb over to get at the bag I was wearing, but I managed to yank it off my head by the scruff of its neck.


    I winced as I felt the little fucker''s claws take chunks out of my hair. Its feet left bloody rivets on my face and I knew I''d have to get it disinfected as soon as I was done clubbing this shit unconscious.


    I swerved in one fluid motion and punted it away from me, an aura-enhanced kick sending it clear past the treeline. I''d keep track of it on the edge of my senses, but right now, I desperately wanted some breathing room. By rushing me, it prevented me from issuing any orders to my pokemon, not that Artoria needed any, but enough time had passed to snap Jeanne out of Encore.


    "Jeanne," I hollered. I wasn''t sure where she was, but that was fine; I didn''t need specifics. "Spread shot! Shock Wave!"


    "Flaaff!" I heard her shout, followed by the crackle and zap of electricity and the near simultaneous wail of pain from the four mankey. She had this. Now that she wasn''t bound by Encore, there wasn''t a whole lot the pig monkey pokemon could do to take her down, not without being shocked and paralyzed with every attempt at an attack.


    In the games, physical moves worked fine on electric types. In reality, no one approached an irate electric pokemon without good insulation.


    I turned to Artoria and briefly saw the remaining mankey huddled in a defensive circle as she darted around them. They''d gone full prey-mode now, as though guarding themselves from an angry seviper. On the plus side, they''d live. On the down side, I doubted they''d forget the beating she''d give them anytime soon.


    That was as far as I got before the tactical mankey leapt from behind. The old me, despite decades of HEMA and kendo experience, would never have reacted in time to an attack towards the back like this. Now, even as a thirteen year old child, I wasn''t caught off guard thanks to my newfound psychic abilities. Simply being aware of nearby minds removed most of my blindspots.


    I whirled, interposing my bokken between me and the pig monkey. It cried its own name before trying to hook itself towards my face again, but I was ready this time. I jerked rapidly to the side, reorienting my sword and spiking much of its forward momentum down to the ground.


    As it landed, I gave it another punt, though much lighter this time.


    "Mankey!" it yelled as it flew a good eight feet, more in indignant rage than any actual pain. Fighting types were fucking bullshit. Kicks like that to anyone my age would have cracked a rib at least.


    It leapt forward again, renewing our dance of claws and sword.


    One hit wouldn''t bring it down. Singular strikes from a boy my age, aura-enhanced or not, simply lacked the oomph to convince it that I wasn''t worth fucking with. Rage-induced adrenaline was a hell of a drug and it''d shrug off anything I could dish out. This was very much a battle of attrition and I didn''t like my chances in a stamina contest with a pokemon.


    I smacked the damn thing away for what felt like the hundredth time and reached behind me to my pack. As it righted itself and leapt for me again, I yanked hard on the cord that kept my sleeping bag fastened. I hurled it towards the mankey and watched as the bag unrolled itself mid-flight, acting as an impromptu net.


    Wasting no time, I brought my bokken down in a downward stroke towards the screeching lump. Twice. Thrice.


    "MANKEY!" it screeched, somehow getting louder and angrier. I groaned inwardly as I heard the sound of tearing fabrics. I''d definitely need that replaced soon¡­


    With a final ripping noise, it launched itself from a newly formed hole in my sleeping bag towards my face.


    "Aah! Fuck!" I swore as I startled back.


    "MANKEY!" it roared, probably cursing me out to Distortion.


    I raised my arm over my face and the little fucker bit down on it, drawing blood and another scream from me. This close, I couldn''t do much except batter it with the pommel of my bokken and try to shake it free. Everything I''d done would''ve been a hanshoku, a foul, in kendo, but I really didn''t give a damn at the moment.


    Arm throbbing, I finally managed to whip it off me. It made no attempt to go for my backpack, so I assumed rage had finally blinded it. It just wanted to hurt me now and the feeling was very much mutual.


    This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    ''Is it weird that I want this thing even more now?'' I wondered.


    ''Yes, it very much is,'' Artoria drawled. My perspective shifted to hers for a moment. All of her mankey were down, as were Jeanne''s. ''Please, allow me.''


    ''No. Hold.''


    ''He must be punished for laying his hands on you.''


    ''Oh, it''s a he? Good to know. Keep Jeanne out of this too and just watch. Don''t interfere if I''m not about to die,'' I told her.


    Was this wise? Not particularly, but I had my pride, damnit. I was tired. I couldn''t wield my bokken the way it was meant to be wielded anymore, my left arm just didn''t have the strength to leverage.


    But so was the mankey. There was no denying that I''d gotten more licks in and he had been moving far more throughout the fight. He was just as exhausted as I was and as I returned its glare, we came to an understanding: His troupe lost, but that meant nothing. We''d settle things between us, as warriors.


    ''But you are not a warrior, my lord. And I don''t think that savage qualifies either,'' came Artoria''s harsh critique.


    ''Sush, let me have my chuuni moment,'' I grumbled back.


    ''Very well¡­ Please allow me to take the bag at least.''


    I didn''t take my eyes off him as I shrugged off the backpack. Artoria teleported to my side and left in two flashes of light. I felt much lighter now. The hammerspace bag wasn''t exactly heavy, designed to negate the bulk of the weight of its contents as it was, but that little bit was enough to give me a bit of a second wind.


    "Alright, shit-flinger. Let''s end this," I said seriously. Was I trying to trash talk a mankey? Yes, yes I was. Judging by the narrowed eyes and short breaths, he understood me.


    "Man. Mankey."


    "Don''t know. Don''t care. Now come on!"


    "Man!"


    I braced myself as our battle resumed. I pivoted out of the way of the enraged mankey and snatched up a stainless steel pan lid to use as a buckler in my left hand. I couldn''t swing my bokken at full strength anymore, but batting the little shit away seemed like a fair bet. Choking up on the hilt, I swapped to a more "sword and board" style, or as close to one as I could mimic under the circumstances.


    "Mankey!" he roared.


    "Yeah, well, you''re why my food is cold, you midget!" I roared back.


    He jumped for my face, but I was able to bring my left hand in front, catching him on the concave pan lid and tossing him into the air. Taking the chance, I jabbed him in the stomach with the help of gravity before spiking the pint-sized fucker into the ground.


    Stepping forward, I stomped down onto his tail, flipped the grip of my bokken, and stabbed him in the stomach.


    "MAN!" he shrieked in pain. He thrashed and I felt claws dig through my jeans and into my leg, but I gritted my teeth and brought down my sword again and again until finally, with an exhausted gasp, he flopped onto the dirt. "Man¡­ key¡­"


    "You done?" I asked with a glower. "Yield?"


    "Man."


    I never knew you could say so much with a single syllable. There was anger there, an ever-present part of his existence, but there was also respect, an implicit acknowledgement of his defeat.


    "You''re my pokemon now."


    "Man," he nodded. He bore his teeth, awfully long on such a little guy, and let out a squeaking chatter. "Mankey, mankey-man."


    "Kirlia!" Artoria frowned. She hefted her spoon in hand.


    I got off him and picked her up. "Do I want to know what he said?"


    ''He said you are "troupe-leader" now. He will follow you as long as you are stronger than him. Savage,'' she spat. ''Why do you want this one?''


    ''Because he''s impressively smart and disciplined for a mankey.''


    ''For a mankey. That is not a high bar.''


    ''Artoria¡­''


    ''It''s true though,'' she huffed.


    ''Actually, I have a feeling he''s got a better handle on tactics than you do,'' I pointed out. I shared with her my realizations throughout the fight. ''Could you have done this?''


    ''Well¡­ No¡­'' she admitted, almost painfully. ''But he used his own troupe as distractions. Is that the kind of pokemon we want in a team?''


    ''You do raise a good point. Why don''t you ask him yourself? Translate for us if you don''t mind. Ask him what he wants out of this. Our team is a partnership and a family. You want to be a knight. Jeanne wants to be a star. Does he have a dream worth chasing? Worth leaving it all behind for? Ask him that.''


    ''As you wish, my lord.'' She vanished from my hands and reappeared on the ground. She gestured to the mankey and began to chatter in pokespeak. "Kirlia kir. Lia."


    I left them to talk and dug in my backpack for a potion before tossing it towards Artoria. She knew how to apply it by now. I took another bottle for myself, this one diluted to the extreme so as to be usable on humans. It wasn''t nearly as effective, but it''d allow the cuts that mankey left me to heal in a few days without leaving any scars.


    That thought made me marvel once again at the level of medicine this world had. A few days? That wouldn''t even be enough for these cuts to close and the pus to dry in my old life. "Not as effective on humans" still comfortably left these potions in the super-science territory.


    "What about you, Jeanne?" I called. "Any cuts?"


    Jeanne dutifully plodded her way to me and presented me her torso. Her rubbery skin had bite marks and scratches in it from before the Encore wore off and she couldn''t fully hold off the four mankey. She eyed me tearily and gestured to the bag. I sprayed her down and when she kept eyeing the bag, I realized what she wanted.


    "Lunch first," I told her. It was exactly like dealing with Tate and Liza. "Then you can have a treat."


    "Flaaf."


    "Yes, it''s cold. We''ll just have to deal with it."


    "Flaf," she bleated, pouting. Seeing that she wasn''t going to get anywhere with me with the puppy eyes, she trotted over to her salad, still somehow undisturbed, and began to tuck in. As nonchalant as she seemed, I smiled when I saw her eyeing the unconscious mankey in case they woke up and wanted to keep picking a fight.


    I had to spoil her lunch though. I let her grab another bite before taking the whole thing and dumping it into some tupperware. "Sorry, girl. Later. Let''s move away from this place first. Artoria, how''re things?"


    ''He is¡­ not as bad as I feared,'' she said, as though admitting it was shameful to her. ''He is far more focused and driven than I expected of one of his kind. He is also reasonably intelligent and has a mind for cunning. He claims that they were not a true troupe and did not deserve his loyalty. They are exiles from different troupes, runts with nowhere to go. The biggest took over and claimed to lead but got them defeated in a headlong charge against a psychic type.''


    ''Huh, that''s interesting. I didn''t know mankey kicked out their weakest members.''


    I heard some chattering before she replied. ''They do, but only when the situation is dire. There was apparently a war of some sort and they lost territory, which also meant a loss of food.''


    ''I get it now, thanks. So will he follow me if I''m "troupe-leader" or whatever?''


    ''He will. He saw that you provided medicine and food for Jeanne and saw how strong we became under your leadership, my lord.''


    I walked around the camp, cleaning up after our lunch preparations. The foil packet of sausages, onions, and peppers needed to go in a tupperware container for later. The sleeping bag needed to be rolled up again. Lastly, some of the tools I used to start a fire and prep the ingredients hadn''t been put away.


    ''What about a dream?'' I asked. Was it strange that I was looking for something so ambiguous? But if strength was all he wanted, I didn''t want him. ''Why follow me? Besides that I won. I''d be willing to leave him behind if he likes it here better. What does he want that he can''t get in Petalburg Woods?''


    "Kirlia, lia. Kirlia-kir. Lia," she spoke to him in rapidfire pokespeak, translating what I said.


    The mankey looked contemplative at that. It went still, quiet in a way I didn''t think was possible with a mankey. "Man¡­ mankey?"


    ''Does the goal have to be external?'' Artoria asked in his stead.


    "It doesn''t," I said. "Jeanne wants to be the best contest pokemon in Hoenn, to show that she''s the most beautiful, radiant ampharos ever. Artoria wants to beat her father in a duel. But you don''t need anything concrete like that. Tell me something you want to achieve by going on this journey with me. Tell me what we can work towards together."


    "Mankey. Man."


    ''To evolve¡­ and¡­ to control his anger, to be more than that. He wishes to be strong in mind as well as body. I¡­ I may have been hasty in my judgment, my lord.''


    ''Then I suppose you owe him an apology,'' I rebuked my starter gently. "That''s fine. Mastering yourself is a worthy goal. In fact, I suspect that it''s one you need to hit your third stage."


    "Man?"


    ''He said mankey only evolve to primeape.''


    "You''d think so, but that''s not true. Primeape can evolve into a third pokemon called annihilape. They''re unimaginably rare in the wild but they for sure exist; a few trainers have one, though most of those are from Kanto, Johto, or Paldea."


    "Mankey?" He stared at me with wide eyes now. An evolution he''d never known was possible, that certainly got his attention.


    To be fair, I didn''t know much about it either. If I had to guess, games containing annihilape simply had not been released in my world. But since the world I now found myself in was not bound by development cycles and new product schedules, there were some pokemon that were never released.


    Such as clodsire. Apparently, the Paldea had a regional variant of wooper that was a poison-ground type and evolved into more of the same. I didn''t exactly go searching for news from other regions, but they did cross my newsfeed occasionally.


    Incredible.


    I realized I hadn''t answered my prospective pokemon. A fighting-ghost type¡­ Yeah, I could work with that¡­ "Annihilape have existed for as long as primeape have existed," I told him what I knew. "Since they''re so rare in the wild, I have to imagine that there is something that keeps primeape from evolving no matter how strong they get. It''s just a guess, but since annihilape gain a ghost type, I think it''s fair to say that the evolutionary roadblock is spiritual in nature.


    "I don''t know, mankey. I don''t know much about your species, but I can find out. If you think mastering your anger is something you can only do by leaving Petalburg woods, I''ll take you. I''ll make you strong, physically and spiritually. And then, then we can see about how to make you an annihilape. What do you say?"


    I held out a pokeball towards him. It was up to him in the end; I wouldn''t make this choice for him.


    He looked at the ball, then at his downed troupe. Some were awake now, though none of them looked to be all that interested in restarting this fight or interfering in mankey''s choice.


    Then one, the biggest of them, stood and huffed something before slinking back into the treeline. One by one, they began to follow.


    "Last chance. If you want to stay, go join them."


    "Man," he shook his head. There was a tinge of red in his aura, but also a whole lot more blue. Peace. He reached out and tapped the ball. "Mankey."


    The capture itself was anticlimactic. There was the telltale flash of light but the ball didn''t shake even once. I picked up my pack and began to walk south. With a flick of my wrist, I let him out again.


    "Well, welcome to the family, mankey."


    "Man."


    "You need a name."


    "Mankey," he said with a careless shrug.


    "Kirlia, kir," Artoria chided him.


    The mankey stared at her, then at her spoon, then back at her, and sighed. "Man¡­"


    I snorted. "Did you just establish a pecking order?"


    ''I am your right hand. It is only natural for me to keep the others in line.''


    "Right¡­ Mankey, if you don''t care, I''m going to call you ''Durvasa.''"


    "Man?"


    ''He wants to know what it means, my lord.''


    "Durvasa was a rishi, or sage, but he was also known for being very short-tempered. Anger was something he struggled with all his life, as will you."


    "Mankey. Man-mankey."


    ''What a rude creature. He says it''s as good as any and that he will master himself no matter what so it doesn''t matter what you call him.''


    "Cool, we''ve got a lot of work to do, but first, let''s get out of the forest. I need a new sleeping bag."


    I didn''t know what it said about my third pokemon that he seemed so inordinately smug about tearing a hole through my bedding, but I promised I''d train him into the ground. Perhaps Artoria could teach him some technique instead of mindless scratching?


    And so, I led my knight, popstar, and sage through the forest in search of Oldale¡­


    Author''s Note


    Artoria''s knightly antics are cute from a third party perspective, but I think they''re tiring to read about from her perspective. She isn''t truly malicious, but she''s actively contemptuous of anyone who is either a) not on her team or in her "in-group," or b) not "honorable" as she defines the word.


    She is often compared to Artoria from F/SN for obvious reasons, but there is one huge distinction between the two: Shirou''s Artoria is one who already finished her journey. She''s already a mature, deeply thoughtful and remorseful person. Aaron''s Artoria is not that. She is closer to Artoria as she was when she trained to pull Caliburn, blindly following the virtues of knighthood with little regard for anything else.


    Aaron''s Artoria is immature, narrow-minded, and selfishly dogmatic just as much as she is kind, loyal, earnest, and hard-working. She has a great many flaws and I hope that brief POV shift highlighted some of them.


    Meet Durvasa, the Sage of Rage. The name is from Hindu mythology and literally means "hard to live with." I mean the title jokingly, but also kinda not. Seriously, read his myth a bit. He''s basically the Hulk, but better dressed and more magical. He went around cursing people and gods, including Indra at one point, for what, lacking cultural context, seem like incredibly petty reasons.


    He once depowered Indra because Indra''s elephant wouldn''t wear the garland of flowers Durvasa made for him. Another time, he separated Rukumi from her husband because she drank water without his permission. Her husband? Krishna. Yeah, that one. Though to be fair, he also blessed Krishna with partial invulnerability (think Achilles or Siegfried).


    How could he do this?


    He basically came about because Shiva and Brahma got into an argument. Shiva was so pissed that everyone except Parvati (his wife) were too terrified to be around him. Parvati said he''s impossible to live with (hence the name) and Shiva felt sorry for being a pissy asshat. He tore off his anger and put it in some pregnant lady (because he''s still a pissy asshat I guess). And out popped Durvasa, with all the bullshit power of Shiva and somehow even less self-control.


    Perfect for a rage-monkey that''s eventually going to get so angry that it dies.


    Thank you for reading. To reach a wider audience, and because I enjoy a more forum-like setup to facilitate discussion, I like to crosspost to a wide variety of websites. You can find them all on my Link Tree: https://linktr.ee/fabled.webs.</a>

 3.5.5 Sharon Fulan

    Interlude 3.6.5: Sharon Fulan


    Sharon Fulan


    Mossdeep City, Hoenn Region


    Precisely four minutes and sixteen seconds from now, the first elite challenger of the season would arrive. Danielle Penn, a bug type specialist.


    I scoffed. Those were common around this time of year. I could expect to see two more in just this week alone.


    It wasn''t as though I didn''t understand. Danielle wanted to start her elite challenge on a strong note and so picked the gym leader she had an advantage against. She weighed my reputation with the practical advantage she had and decided she could win here. If she won here, she would be the talk of the League for at least a week. It''d propel her career, setting her up as a trainer to watch.


    If.


    The elite challenge was like that. It sometimes seemed that all the negative aspects of being a trainer, the greed and lust for fame and glory, were exacerbated by the elite challenge.


    Technically, it wasn''t an official challenge. The League did not sponsor it. There were no benefits to winning, though they could request a badge as a memento should they desire. The badge would do nothing, seeing how these challengers already had eight. No, it was called that because it was what people did in order to prepare themselves before levying a formal challenge to the Elite Four. As someone who had been offered a position as an Elite multiple times, my gym was a popular target, never mind that I''d never lost one of these battles.


    If anything, that I never lost an unrestrained battle was an even bigger incentive for hot-blooded, young trainers. With the recent boom in technology and the prevalence of the internet, there was real prestige in being the first to "blind the Oracle."


    I was of two minds on the subject.


    On one hand, it was annoying. Danielle Penn was just the first of this season to think that just because she won a conference, she was near the peak of what a trainer could be. I knew she would not be the last.


    There were calls from some League administrators who wanted to formalize the elite challenge, but both Wallace and I vehemently rejected the proposal every time it came up. It was one of the few times we threw around the weight behind the Mikuri and Summers names. We had plenty to do and the last thing we wanted was to incentivize regular challenges like this.


    On the other hand, the reason we, Norman, Marcus, and Wattson accepted such challenges at all, was a combination of duty and esteem. We had a duty to nurture future elites, and though most would never progress past one or two conference placements, there were a few true diamonds in the rough. Our duty as mentors did not end with a badge; gym leaders were community leaders, doubly so for storied houses such as my own. Noblesse oblige, plain and simple.


    Then there was esteem. Mine and Wallace''s status as "unbeatable" helped secure our gyms, not that either of us were at risk of being replaced. These battles, broadcast and recorded for posterity online, also became points of pride for the city, which was at least partially what being a gym leader was about, being a pillar of the community. Further, I also noticed an increase in tourism and decrease in crime around the Mossdeep Archipelago since I began doing this. I knew that I could not claim credit for everything, but regularly showing off my power helped to reassure the people as to their safety.


    I extended my mind outward to check on Tate and Liza. They were bickering over the TV remote. Liza wanted to watch a rerun of some movie starring Diantha Carne and Tate was interested in a cartoon produced in Unova. I frowned slightly. Jin spoiled them; they were supposed to be studying the ecology of Shoal Cave, one of the areas under the protection of Mossdeep Gym.


    I was going to telekinetically turn off the TV, but Liza finally won and bullied her brother into making popcorn. She flopped onto the couch and claimed the "good pillow," whatever that meant. I could''ve sworn they were all identical. I really ought to wrangle them back to work, but I couldn''t find it in me to do so.


    Was I going soft?


    A knock at my office door interrupted me. The door swung open to reveal Sarah, my secretary. She was a tall, big-boned woman with navy-blue hair and laugh creases around her eyes. She used to work at the airport in air traffic control but took a minor pay cut to become my secretary in favor of more consistent work hours. "Ma''am, Ms. Penn is here for her challenge."


    I knew that, of course. She knew that I knew and I knew that she knew that I knew.


    I felt my lips curl into a ghost of a smile. Both Jin and Aaron loved this sort of nonsense.


    Schooling my features, I nodded to my secretary. "Thank you, Sarah. I''ll be out shortly."


    Once, shortly after our marriage, Jin asked me why I bothered with a secretary. I saw the present; there was almost nothing in Hoenn that was hidden from me should I wish to peak. I saw the future; only a handful of people could claim to have ever misled me. Days, weeks in advance, I knew who would visit my gym and why. I knew who would win, and, more importantly, who had the potential to go far in this career path.


    So why? Why bother with a secretary?


    There was a time when I thought I could do it all. I tried, and developed a reputation for being somewhat spacey and aloof because of it. I quickly found that sight was not equivalent to attention. Just because I could see far and wide did not mean I could retain such an influx of information flawlessly. Not even a metagross could do that. Ever since, I found that being aloof also kept people from bothering me so I kept up the mask even after I hired my first secretary.


    That, and it was boring, being all-knowing. Why have a secretary? The question may as well be, why have anything? Why have challengers? Why not just mail my badges to people who would pass instead and save everyone a boat ticket to my island? Why have relationships? Why not just hand people scripts of conversations we''d have each day?


    Everyone celebrated the "Oracle of Mossdeep," but I wasn''t too thrilled about the title. Forging a balance between being supernaturally informed and still living a life worth living had always been a challenge.


    I peaked in on the twins again and smiled. They''d fallen asleep, Tate nestled against his sister''s shoulder. This was good. Perhaps, if they held the title as a pair, they wouldn''t be as lonely as I was before I met Jin.


    X


    The room fell silent at my arrival. My public mask was affixed as it ever was, an aloof, expressionless woman with unknowable powers and a demeanor colder than the depths of Shoal Cave. A "stone-cold bitch" as Aaron said, before I telekinetically shoved a bottle of dish soap in his mouth. I almost cracked a smile at the memory.


    Almost.


    Internally, I wondered not for the first time what was so special about teleportation. People acted like I didn''t already teleport everywhere. One would think the citizens of Mossdeep would be accustomed to it by now. It wasn''t as though I made a show of it. I just appeared on my side of the field. No lights, no sounds, just my presence. Subtlety was the sign of mastery and I''d worked too hard to hone my powers to indulge in meaningless, flamboyant displays like pretty colors.


    I quelled a sigh before it could form as waves of awe, respect, and fear washed over my senses. That didn''t matter in the end. Instead, I looked to my challenger, Danielle Penn.


    She was as I saw her in my vision, a pretty young woman, eighteen years old, with honey-blonde hair, warm, gold eyes, and pouty lips. She had an attractive figure and a pretty, honey-gold sundress beneath a light, summer jacket that fluttered in the breeze. Looking past her appearance, I could see the small scar just beneath her right ear. She''d gotten it from an ornery kricketune back when she first started out. The near-death experience hadn''t discouraged her from pursuing bug types as her specialty.


    Good. A trainer should at least have that kind of resolve. Perhaps today would not break her spirit either. I genuinely did not know; I went out of my way in these challenges to crush my opponents just enough to make them question their worth. A coin toss, as Jin would say.


    ''Begin,'' I told Morris, the youngest of the League-licensed referees I employed for the gym. He also doubled as an announcer of sorts.


    He flinched a little, still unused to telepathy. "Y-Yes, ma''am," he stammered aloud. He looked out over the crowd, elite challenges tended to garner more interest from the city, and found his stride. He''d always had a flair for dramatics, ever since that acting class he took when he was eight. "Welcome, one and all, to the Mossdeep Gym! We''ve got a real treat for you today. Today''s battle is not just for a badge, no. Today, someone has come to take on the Oracle''s elite team! So, from far-flung Sinnoh, let''s give it up for the Hive Queen! DANIELLE PENN!"


    "I really wish people would stop calling me that. It makes me sound like I have an STI or something," my opponent grumbled. Then she remembered that there was a mic attached to her lapel. "Oh fuck, I said that out loud, didn''t I? Shi-I mean, fu-Ugh, can we delete this?"


    "No can do, Ms. Penn," Morris said with an easy laugh. Jin said he was a good balance to my stoicness. I didn''t see it. "This match is being streamed live."


    "Ah, shit¡­"


    "The best thing to do is to move forward. So, without further ado, please put your hands together for the Oracle of Mossdeep! SHARON FULAN!" I said nothing, simply inclining my head in acknowledgement. I did not enjoy the showmanship and pageantry, even if I saw the reason for it. When the applause died down, Morris continued, this time speaking to Danielle directly, "This will be a six on six double battle. Both trainers are allowed three substitutions. A brief intermission of ten minutes will take place after one trainer loses three pokemon. Are these rules clear to you?"


    "They are," Danielle nodded firmly. Now that we were back on topic, she had managed to gather herself. She was presented with the rules earlier of course, but courtesy demanded we recite them for the audience anyway.


    Morris held out his hands. "Then, with the acknowledgement of the rules of battle, we will begin. Trainers, please ready your first pair. Then, on the count of three, you will release at once."


    Danielle clutched a pokeball in either hand while my own floated off my belt. In a normal gym battle, I would release first. I also would get no substitutions while the challenger got three. This was not a gym battle; this was a challenge made to the best of my team. I would offer no handicaps here.


    "Three. Two. One. Begin!"


    I didn''t move a muscle as the two pokeballs by my side released my two oldest companions. Alice and Quinn, my gardevoir and gallade, shield and sword. They did not pose or strut like many powerful pokemon tended to do; they were far too disciplined for that. Instead, theirs was the causal gait that came with absolute confidence in their abilities. They had nothing to prove; the only opinions that mattered were our own.


    "Ari! Steele! Kick things off!" Danielle yelled. Her pokeballs bounced once on the ground before unveiling an ariados and a steel-variant wormadam. They looked healthy from what limited knowledge I had of bug types. She caught the returning balls with practiced ease and immediately began to set the field. "Hazards!"


    Her two pokemon leapt into action. The ariados spat out enough webbing to supply several tailors and her wormadam raised jagged rocks into the air that started to orbit the perimeter of the field.


    It was a good plan, but a predictable translation of Danielle''s typical strategy. In the typical singles format, her favored strategy was to set up Sticky Webs and Stealth Rocks in order to control the pace of battle from the start, then use moves like U-Turn, Volt Switch, and Flip Turn to bypass the substitution limitations while maintaining aggressive momentum. Already, I could see that she was falling into a trap of her own making: switching out or micromanaging your pokemon like that was nearly impossible in a doubles format.


    ''My lady, my love.'' I heard Quinn''s voice in my mind.


    Alice let out an unladylike snort. ''"My love?" Really? Could you not talk like a character from a period drama for ten minutes?''


    ''Manners are timeless, my love.''


    ''By Arceus'' massive dick, Sharon. Please make him shut up.''


    I could already feel a burgeoning headache. Quinn was the epitome of a knight, someone who upheld nobility and chivalry to the highest standard possible. Alice on the other hand, was the exact opposite of a dainty princess. Jin once likened her to a "rough ''n'' tumble biker chick trapped in a ballerina''s body." I couldn''t disagree. She was rude, acerbic, and not a little sadistic.


    It played into their combat styles. There was no reason for Alice to specialize in support moves otherwise. She was a gardevoir, one of the most telekinetically powerful species in the world. It wasn''t as though she was bad at direct combat, far from it; she just enjoyed prolonging her opponents'' suffering. Reflect. Light Screen. Will-O-Wisp. Hypnosis. Anything and everything designed to infuriate her opponents. By contrast, Quinn knew how his wife could be and sought to end their suffering swiftly, which was how he got a reputation for brutal, overwhelming force and she, much to her amusement, for gentleness.


    Even Artoria, their daughter, thought her mother''s combat style was elegant and refined. Alice insisted on a princess-like demeanor before her daughter and everyone else was too scared to say otherwise, though I suspected Aaron knew. Knowing him, he probably thought it was funny.


    I was brought back from reminiscing about my son by Alice''s melodic voice. ''Hazards ain''t bad but those fuckstains are in for a surprise if they think we''re weak to bugs here.''


    ''Must you swear so, my love? You have such an angelic voice; do not taint it with uncouth language.''


    ''Oh, fuck off, you stiff.''


    ''Must you two bicker?'' I chided with longsuffering amusement echoing through our bond.


    ''My apologies, my lady. I shall endeavor to emphasize the importance of polite language to my beloved after the battle.''


    ''Ah, fuck, Sharon. He''s not gonna shut up for hours. Do you know how long that is in telepathy?''


    ''I do. We have a battle to get to,'' I reminded them.


    ''Yeah, fine. You want me to send it back?''


    ''Please.''


    ''Fine, one Magic Coat, coming right up~''


    Our conversation passed in a fraction of a second, our minds long used to the rigors of multiple mental connections. Alice''s body glowed a radiant white as she began to dance. The points of her fingers connected with psychic energy, weaving a sheet of fabric that she dragged behind her. Then, teleporting before her opponents, she swept the sheet of Magic Coat along every hazard and relocated them to Danielle''s side of the field.


    "Wha- No!" Danielle cried as we foiled her plan from the very beginning. "We need her off the field. Ari, Cross Poison! Steele,start stacking, Quiver Dance!"


    ''I cannot allow that,'' Quinn''s voice echoed confidently as his blades extended behind him like a pair of tonfa. He stepped into his shadow and appeared from the spider''s, psychic energy shrouding his arms and expanding his blades until they were as long as he was tall.


    To their credit, the ariados reacted swiftly, leaping out of the way before sneaking into its own shadow in response.


    ''Evasive maneuvers,'' I instructed Alice. ''Enrage the wormadam.''


    Our bond pulsed as Alice''s polite smile grew by several molars. ''Yes! You''re the best, Shar!''


    She teleported to Danielle''s half of the field and stood on a platform of psychic energy, high enough in the sky that she cast no shadow for the ariados to ambush from. Then, she yelled out, "Gar! Gardevoir! Garde-voir!"


    Or, as Quinn and I heard, ''Oi! You dogshit trashbag! Where''d your bitch-ass shitheel trainer find you? Did she dig you out of the trash ''cause she couldn''t afford a real fucking pokemon? Can you even hear anything beneath that sewage-blanket you call armor? Or do you keep it around ''cause the stank reminds you of your family?''


    I didn''t care to hear what the wormadam said back so I didn''t bother extending my senses. Instead, as soon as the steel-clad bug looked up with a Flash Cannon forming in its mouth and murder in its eyes, I ordered, ''''Encore. Disable. Confuse Ray.''


    ''Heh. Fuck, yeah. Struggle-hell it is,'' my gardevoir said viciously. An orb of ghostly power formed in her hand. It launched down into the wormadam with a deceptive slowness.


    Disable was a curious move. It wasn''t fully a psychic type move despite placing a temporary mental block on an opponent. It did so not by directly manipulating the mind, but by causing a quasi-hypnotic effect tied to something of the caster''s that the victim hyper-focused on. For many ninetales, it was their tails. For hypno, their pendulum.


    I''d taught Alice to use not the crest sprouting from her breast as many gardevoir did, but the orb of Confuse Ray. By using it as a vector, I could subject the opponent to both moves at once, something that made my sadistic gardevoir giddy with joy.


    The initial Flash Cannon was dodged with ease as the trio of disabling movies took hold. The wormadam clearly had no training in resisting hypnotic suggestions like this. It swayed back and forth like a drunkard on its silk axis. It tried to condense steel type energy into its mouth but the energy would not form properly. The more it tried, the more it swayed, until it crashed directly into an orb of steel energy and detonated it in surprise, blasting itself back into the psychic barrier surrounding the battlefield.


    "No, Steele, get yourself together!" Danielle tried.


    "Wow, what a decisive use of Taunt and Confuse Ray," Morris said for the crowd. What other additions we made to Alice''s moves were something of a trade secret, no reason to give away more than we had to after all.


    On the ground, I watched placidly as Quinn chased the Ariados through shadows. Since neither were ghost types, neither had an affinity for the technique, but I was marginally impressed with the ariados'' mobility. It took a truly dedicated practitioner to match Quinn with Shadow Sneak, especially considering the near-obsessive amount of practice he''d put into mastering it.


    Once upon a time, when Quinn was a young ralts, he had trouble with Teleport. He became so disappointed in himself that he refused to train altogether, lazing around all day in a depressed funk and doing the bare minimum to be considered a fighting pokemon.


    Then he saw it, a historical drama centered around the ninja clans of Fuchsia City in Kanto. He fell in love with the "noble protectors clad in shadows" and worked to master Shadow Sneak so he could emulate them. For months, he used to call me "hime-sama" and appeared at the foot of my bed each morning. He''d answer my questions with "Hai, hime-sama," and begged me to buy him the TM for Swift so he could have his own ninja stars. I obliged, if only because I was happy to see him take training seriously again.


    He grew out of the "ninja phase" but that started him on a love for historical dramas and history in general, which led to the history of Mossdeep, Rota, Anistar, and the rise and fall of the gallade knightly orders.


    I was grateful to the producers of that drama, but his "ninja phase" was a source of great embarrassment for my gallade.


    ''Please do not reminisce during battle, my lady,'' Quinn chided as he parried a Night Slash on his wrist. He turned the parry into a twisting punch as his fist erupted in flame, nailing the ariados on its mandibles. The spider pokemon flew back with a shriek of pain and instinctive fear. ''Especially about my misspent youth.''


    ''Heh, remember when Artoria asked why you used Shadow Sneak instead of Teleport?'' Alice giggled. ''You didn''t have the heart to tell her why so you fed her some shit about facing ghosts and bypassing the protections of other psychics.''


    ''That''s all true!''


    ''Yeah, but let''s be real, sugar, truth had nothing to do with that explanation.''


    ''Hmph, my own lady wife is bullying me.''


    ''What did Aaron call it? "Chuuni?" Heh. I should tell them the real reason when we see them next.''


    ''Please spare my dignity¡­''


    I let out a mental huff of amusement but did not let my outward mask shake. ''Enough. End this.''


    ''Yes, my lady.''


    ''With pleasure, Shar.''


    Alice teleported by Quinn''s side. The two locked hands as psychic power surged between them. It traveled from Alice to Quinn and his blades shone with such bright light that people had to squint to look at them.


    "Gallade-gal," he spoke aloud for the first time. Then, a trail of flames erupted from his fists and encapsulated his blades, creating a corona of rippling energy. Aaron was not the first in the clan to develop new techniques.


    "There it is, folks! Helping Hand!" Morris cried, somewhat unnecessarily I felt. Wasn''t that obvious to people?


    The fight ended in an instant as the wormadam, still dazed from the hypnotic episode, took both halves of what we''d taken to calling Crossfire directly. The ariados was kept from interfering by a timely Disable from Alice. With Shadow Sneak locked away, it was a simple matter for Quinn to turn and finish the ariados.


    Then, while he did that, a combination of Reflect and Light Screen went up around my half of the field. Alice did love to stack her advantages.


    Just like that, the first round was over with screens on my side of the field and all of Danielle''s hazards neatly returned to her. Technically, Danielle could have sent out a third pokemon to support her ariados after the wormadam went down, but she was so busy gawking at the sudden violence to react.


    I suppressed a sigh. That was the problem with modern trainers. And yes, "modern trainers," even if Aaron insisted me saying so made me a "boomer," whatever that was.


    This was why I insisted on double battles. It was one of the biggest failings of the League system, I felt, reducing trainers to competitive showmen. At the end of the day, trainers were protectors, frontiersmen, soldiers, and commanders. There was no such thing as an elite trainer who was a poor commander.


    Breaking trainers of the mentality of one-on-one duels was the very first thing that ranger corps instructors had to do. No one in the wild cared if you released your whole team at once. Criminals didn''t follow tournament regulations. It wasn''t unheard of for people on the wrong side of the law to target trainers when they got desperate.


    That was what my gym taught: coordination and small-group tactics, if only just a small taste of it. My gym challenge tested a trainer''s ability to engage outside of a tournament format. It tested the pokemons'' teamwork and the trainer''s ability to adapt.


    And, though I would have given Danielle a badge under normal circumstances, she had failed the most important lesson: Her team did not fight as one.


    Alice and Quinn were two bodies who shared one mind. They moved seamlessly as one unit under my command. As much as they bickered, empathic pulses flickered beneath the surface in a code we''d mastered long ago to coordinate their actions into a flawless whole. Even when they were seemingly apart, they were always ready to shift tactics on a dime.


    It was an advantage afforded only to psychics, true, but I expected a bare minimum of coordination from the team of a supposed "elite." Beyond her initial strategy to set hazards, Danielle came in with nothing and hoped bug types would triumph over psychics.


    No. No matter how well-trained her team was individually, she didn''t deserve to be called an elite. Not here, not now, and not from me.


    If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    "Challenger, please send out your next two pokemon," Morris said, dragging Danielle from her shellshocked state.


    She considered her options for a moment before picking two more. I knew what was coming: She would send out her heracross to try and match Quinn in close combat. Her scizor would use its speed to dance around Alice''s disruptions and take her out in a decisive Bullet Punch.


    Sure enough, I saw two of Johto''s most famous bug types appear. She''d spent a year as a gym trainer in Azalea where she flushed out her team. They were clearly a cut above the rest of their species, their shells gleaming with good health. She stood straighter, more confident now that two of her heavy hitters were on the field.


    "Magnum, Agility. Bruce, Earthquake," she called. Her scizor began to vibrate in place as psychic energy reinforced its body. I nodded slightly to acknowledge her; it showed decent mastery of the move. Its wings became a translucent blur as it hovered in the air in anticipation for its partner''s attack.


    The heracross gathered aura into its feet and stomped the ground, sending violent tremors that threatened to unbalance my pokemon. Though there were no obvious fissures, I knew that the vibrations transmitted through the ground could severely damage the bones of most pokemon.


    Neither Alice nor Quinn needed to be told what to do. Alice hopped into the air on a platform of psychic energy just as Quinn teleported by her side.


    ''Alfonse, do you want to debut this match?'' I asked, linking my mind to the alakazam I knew was watching from afar.


    ''Is this really the stage you want to unveil our mega evolution?'' he asked rhetorically.


    ''No, but I know you''ve been itching for a fight with a powerful opponent to test what you can really do.''


    ''Yes, emphasis on the "powerful opponent." This one is rather lacking. If I want a challenge, I''ll go a few rounds with Alice and Quinn.''


    ''Very well. I''ll have them finish this up. Let Somber, Pearl, and Isis know that they''ll take the next elite challenge.''


    ''Very well, Sharon.''


    Alfonse considered himself something of an artist, a lazy one at that, who disliked fighting unless it was against an opponent he recognized. He''d come if I asked, but I didn''t disagree: His mega evolution deserved a worthy stage.


    ''Alice, Wonderland. Quinn, Sword Aura,'' I instructed. Danielle had only just begun giving out orders, the doubles format working against her.


    Alice began to drop yet another combination technique, this one designed specifically to handle speedy physical threats like scizor. Her body glowed a pinkish violet as she began to dance in the air to a tune only she could hear.


    "Stop her, Magnum! Bullet Punch! " Danielle shouted.


    The scizor leapt into action immediately, its claws gleaming with concentrated metallic energy. It became a crimson streak and the sound of a gunshot filled the air as it crashed into the preset Reflect. It reared back its second pincer and struck again, this time with Brick Break, cracking the psychic barriers. It broke through on the third strike but much of its momentum was lost, giving Alice the split second she needed to dance out of the way.


    Each of her footsteps left nodes of psychic energy that spread out from her footprints like ripples on a tranquil lake. Pulses of psychic energy reverberated through the air until they completely filled the battlefield.


    Quinn and I felt its effects immediately. Our minds melded together in a familiar haze that was intimately comforting to me. The three of us sank into a state of hyper-awareness, both of one another and of the field around us. The world came to a standstill, even the speedy scizor a far more manageable threat now.


    This was Psychic Terrain, the psychic variant of the move Aaron favored during his first contest. Or, at least, a heavily modified variant of it. Unlike Aaron''s inexperienced mareep, Alice''s technique was not limited to the ground. By suffusing the battlefield with psychic energy, it allowed the user, and anyone else attuned to psychic aura, to harness it and achieve an advanced state of pericognition. It also deepened the bond we shared until there was practically no distinction between Alice, Quinn, and myself.


    I watched with satisfaction as Danielle''s face contorted in triumph, then shock. Alice, a gardevoir, casually stepped out of the way of a scizor''s Agility-enhanced Bullet Punch. Then, just to crush her pride further, she did it another four times without resorting to teleportation. Quinn''s combat instincts and natural mastery of martial arts, paired with Alice''s sadism, was a sight to behold.


    She danced and skipped on platforms of psychic aura, every flutter of her dress and taunting wink leading the scizor by the nose. No matter how fast the scizor moved, she seemed just a hair faster, as though she knew what it would do before it moved. More observant trainers in the audience blinked more than once as they tried to reconcile distances that made no sense, that seemed to shift with no input from anyone¡­ because that was exactly what was happening.


    The key difference between Wonderland and Psychic Terrain, the reason it merited a different name, was not the deepened connection between us. It was the realization that the psychic energy released into the air was still hers, still a part of Alice. Nothing and no one could change that. And so, she simply moved the scizor as she wanted, subtly so it didn''t even notice to resist.


    I''d named it after a bedtime story Aaron told to Tate and Liza, about a girl named Alice who chased a rabbit into Wonderland, a land where nothing made sense and laws and logic fell by the wayside. Trick Room. Wonder Room. Magic Room. She could use any of them in conjunction with Psychic Terrain to turn the battlefield into her playground. It was Alice''s magnum opus, her ace in the hole that made her the single greatest support pokemon I knew of. The battlefield was hers now, hers to build as she pleased into the perfect stage to let Quinn shine.


    Quinn for his part conjured a small armory''s worth of swords, each made of fighting type aura compacted tightly into a honed edge. It was our own combination of Swords Dance and Aura Sphere, an offensive variant to make up for Sword Dance''s temporary vulnerability.


    He became a dervish of blades as he closed on the heracross. Every movement led into the next in a ceaseless river of attacks.


    The heracross raised a Protect to handle the bulk of it. Instead of a powerful but short-lasting forcefield around its entire boy, it created a pair of bucklers on its arms to parry with. That alone proved it was exceptionally well-trained. Its own fighting type instincts took hold as it caught an aura sword on one buckler and lowered its horn to deliver a devastating counterattack.


    Quinn back-stepped out of the way, two more swords parrying the horn in turn. Every attack made room for the next, creating openings in the heracross'' guard. First the briefest scratch, then another and another until the river of blades threatened to overwhelm the sturdy pokemon.


    "Bruce! Quake! Then disrupt the swords with Stone Edge!"


    Its trainer''s shout gave it a second wind. It dug its feet deep into the earth and let out an enraged roar. "HERACROSS!"


    A tremor of power erupted from the heracross. Unlike the first Earthquake, this was localized to a single point, meant to buy the distance needed to regroup. Quinn took it with gritted teeth. Even as the earth shattered beneath his feet, he jumped into the air and used his own aura swords as footing, minimizing the vibrations that traveled into him.


    The fragments of the field that were launched into the air by the Earthquake became the heracross'' projectiles. They pelted Quinn like a hailstorm, forcing him to form a Protect of his own.


    Up above, Alice was beginning to struggle. Quinn''s martial arts or not, enhanced pericognitive or not, she lacked the stamina to keep up with a scizor in a purely physical contest.


    She didn''t have to.


    ''Wisp,'' I called.


    ''Heh, poor bastard. If I fry its claws, will you eat it?''


    ''Scizor are not considered edible in any culture.''


    ''Why not, Shar? You humans stick practically anything in your mouths anyway. What''s the difference between a fried scizor claw and a clawitzer claw?''


    I paused at that. What was the difference? Both were pincers and it wasn''t as though one was more sapient than another. Both pokemon were recorded as being self-aware. Was there a way to sustainably harvest scizor claws? Or would that be too cruel? Would scizor taste like lobster? Or more like crawfish? ''I¡­ I don''t know.''


    ''Hah.''


    ''Either way, this specific scizor is not food.''


    ''Oh, fine.''


    Our conversation passed in a split second, more impressions and feelings than specific words. Alice teleported away, all the way to the other side of the field. There, she formed an orb of ghostly energy in her hand. Then, as the scizor closed the gap with another burst of Agility that sent resounding sonic booms through the arena, she blew it a kiss.


    The ghostly orb scattered into dozens of wisps like a fluff of dandelion. The scizor had no chance to evade, especially not with Alice subtly nudging him into their path. Each wisp detonated in a brilliant conflagration of purple flames.


    "Scizor!" it cried in shock and agony, losing control of its high-speed flight. Rather than be snuffed out at the speed, the wisps clung stubbornly to the scizor. Alice giggled with a dainty hand over her mouth as we watched it collide headlong into the psychic barriers.


    Then, before the scizor could gather its bearings, she spoke, ''Mystical Fire.''


    The ghostly flames lost their bluish tint, only to be replaced by psychic violet. She then caused a column of fire to erupt, finishing off the scizor.


    Before Morris could interrupt to call for an interruption, Quinn''s swords finally found the heracross'' chest with twin strikes of Crossfire and it dropped a mere seconds later.


    "N-No way¡­ How?" Danielle asked, her voice hollow. She sank to her knees as Alice and Quinn regrouped on my side of the field.


    "Heracross and scizor are unable to battle," Morris said officially. His tone was gentler now; he''d cut it out with his announcer schtick, if only to spare Danielle more salt on the wound. "At least three of the challenger''s pokemon are down. There will be a ten minute intermission while the field is repaired and psychics on barrier-duty catch a breath."


    "N-No. No need," she said morosely. She raised her pokeballs and recalled her team. "I-I yield, ref."


    "You''ve had a strong showing, are you sure?"


    She snorted derisively. "I couldn''t even touch her. I''m not putting Swift and Vespa through that meat grinder."


    Morris nodded and raised his voice. "Very well. Challenger Penn has forfeited the match. Gym Leader Fulan is the victor!"


    The crowd applauded politely, well used to seeing similar sights. She was not the first who chose to cut their losses against me.


    Both Morris and the crowd looked to me but I had nothing to say. What advice could I give? I wasn''t a bug type specialist. Nor did I have any intention of teaching her how to overcome my tactics. No, I''d battled in such a way as to make her own shortcomings evident. All she needed to do now was reflect. Either she would learn from this and rise as an elite, or she''d collapse under the weight of her own shortcomings.


    And, if she mustered the resolve to learn from this, there was a slip of paper waiting in her hotel room with my analysis of our short battle.


    I offered them a simple nod as all three of us vanished in a joint Teleport, not having spoken a single word aloud.


    X


    I arrived back in my living room, a separate house attached to the gym proper via an enclosed walkway. My home, the Summers clan home, was a time capsule, practically a museum of different architectural styles. The foundation was done in old Hoenn style, built to emulate the natives by my ancestors who immigrated here. Every clan head who had renovated the estate kept the original style as a nod to our heritage.


    That was about the only thing that remained of those times, architecturally speaking. Sometimes, it seemed as though every family head wanted to leave their own imprints on the estate. The third head''s armory that doubled as a trophy room, filled with the swords and helms of those she killed, directly and indirectly. The eighth head''s rock garden with smooth pebbles made of rounded off psychic gems arranged in soothing ripple patterns where he liked to meditate. The ninth head''s vegetable garden that still grew micle berries, extremely rare berries that were said to improve a pokemon''s focus and accuracy with a steady diet. Every one of them were meticulously cared for as an homage to my ancestors, each built in slightly different architectural styles reminiscent of the current decade.


    Spreading my senses, being made aware of it all, always filled me with a sense of melancholy. The Summers clan did not exist anymore; I, the last to bear the name, was a Fulan now. Times were changing and feudal lords had been replaced by gym leaders, generals and warriors by captains and rangers. I''d tried to instill in my children pride in their legacy, but though they appreciated the psychic power and treasure troves of knowledge in our library, I knew that appreciation was not the same as a shared identity.


    Then, before I could sink further into my melancholy, I was swept off my feet by the hyperactive fool I called my husband. He wrapped me in a bearhug before lifting me clear of my feet and spinning me around.


    "Congratulations, Shar, another flawless victory." Jin Fulan did not speak. He bellowed like a starving loudred. Happy? Sad? Didn''t matter. My husband was not a quiet man.


    In virtually every way, he was my polar opposite. I was a slim, short woman; even Aaron was taller than me now. Jin stood a full six feet tall, with toned muscles earned through rigorous training as an astronaut. Though he was a scientist first, he had the build of a professional mountaineer. He was, in many respects, larger than life, with a personality that filled the room. His gray eyes met my violet as he insistently peppered me with kisses.


    I bore the pleasing annoyance for precisely three seconds before teleporting out of his grasp. He''d sulk if I didn''t let him manhandle me. I pressed my clothes free of wrinkles and replied, "It was hardly a challenge. Danielle Penn is lacking in too many ways. She should have headed to Sootopolis."


    He frowned in thought and I was momentarily distracted by the way his eyebrows scrunched up. "Sootopolis? Why there? Wouldn''t Wallace beat her just as easily?"


    "Not every gym is considered worth facing in an elite challenge. In Hoenn, those with teams capable of giving people a taste of what an Elite Four can do are myself, Wallace, Norman, Marcus, and Wattson, though Wattson and Marcus are getting on in years. The rest of the gym leaders are too new, not much better than the conference winners themselves, or perhaps worse in the case of Roxanne and Brawly. Of the five of us, Wallace''s showboating combat style would allow her to test her tactics more thoroughly than against Norman or Wattson."


    "And a bug specialist going to a fire type master''s gym is just creative suicide."


    "Naturally."


    "Did you tell her that? It''d be good advice for her to have."


    I nodded. As my husband liked to remind me, I sometimes overlooked how little everyone else knew of the future. What I considered the natural course of action, others might simply never consider due to a lack of information. "I remembered this time. There is a notepad waiting for her in her hotel room with a list of where I think she should head next and what she could improve on."


    "Shar¡­" he trailed warningly.


    "I know. I gave her advice and objectives, not a step by step breakdown. I know her pride would not allow her to accept more than that."


    "Good, you''re improving."


    "I still think you should quit being an astronaut and be my press secretary. You''re better with people than I am," I said, half in jest.


    He let out a snort of laughter. "Not a chance. Do you know how cool being an astronaut is? Our kids can brag that their dad''s been to space! Who gets to do that?"


    "Not as cool as being a gym leader."


    "Do you actually know what that word means?"


    "No, I''m told it''s positive however," I said, smiling softly. It was a long-running joke between us, back when I was pregnant with Aaron and we used to wonder what our son would be like and who he''d take after more.


    Of course, there was no question that he would be a trainer. Jin, though no longer much of a battler, was a competent trainer in his own right. He likely could give Roxanne or one of the lesser gym leaders a run for their money.


    My senses rippled and I considered dodging away but resigned myself to the incoming assault. Seconds later, Tate and Liza appeared in midair and collapsed on top of me. It was only through strategic use of telekinesis that I remained upright.


    "Children," I said, brow quirked in not quite condemnation. "What have I said about teleporting?"


    "Not to belly-flop people," Tate said as he hung off my neck.


    "But you''ll catch us anyway," Liza added stubbornly.


    I mimicked the sensation of a snapping rubber band on the tips of their noses.


    "Oww!" the twins cried as one.


    "Perhaps I should stop catching you then," I chided. "Building good habits is especially important for a psychic."


    "Yes, mother," they chorused.


    I looked to Jin for approval. He was always warmer than I, the sun to my moon. I let out a mental sigh of relief as he nodded slightly. Children¡­ I wasn''t ready. I had no idea how to raise children, not really. Aaron was easy. Aaron was abnormal, even for a Summers. He seldom cried. He rarely needed to be motivated. It was only after I had the twins that I learned how lucky I''d been with my firstborn. But by the same token, I had no idea how to deal with real, normal children, never mind two at once.


    I could look ahead and see the outcome, as I did with most things, but that was too clinical, too detached.


    Too much like the way I was raised.


    My grandfather, the thirteenth head of the clan, was not a kind man. He was so detached that sometimes, I wondered if he felt emotions at all.


    Most psychics divided the art into two branches, internal powers such as telepathy and precognition and external powers such as telekinesis and teleportation.


    This was an incomplete categorization that held merit for lesser psychics or those in training but did not fully represent the art as a whole. If anything, I felt that rather than the internal-external distinction, the cognitive-empathic divide written of in the sixth clan head''s journals was more appropriate.


    Some psychics drew inner strength from years of careful, disciplined meditation. Others drew strength from the power of emotions, of relationships. Grandfather was an extreme example of the former, to the point that he believed emotions to be a dangerous disruption to his carefully cultivated mindscape. Anything that sent ripples along the lake, anything that disturbed its tranquility, was to be done away with.


    Even me.


    And he raised me to be much the same. He taught me to the best of his abilities. Me, the most skilled psychic in generations, only surpassed by my own children. He taught me as he had been taught, as he understood the world, as things worked for him. He saw ahead as far as he was able, simulated different outcomes, and designed a rigorous training regimen that took me to the brink of mental collapse. Again and again until I improved. Until I reached my full potential. Until I surpassed him.


    Until I became a worthy heiress.


    I soaked it all up like a sponge. It wasn''t long before my powers could rival a fully evolved psychic pokemon. I closed myself off, locking away my emotions in a prison of my own making because I believed they would make me lose control.


    Until Jin.


    I didn''t want that for my children. And yet, I wanted to preserve the Mossdeep Gym, the last legacy of the once great Summers clan.


    I believed that of all the heads of the clan, few had experienced the clash of generations quite like I had. There were times of great strife and bloodshed, the War of Unification and the Dragon''s Lament came to mind, but few felt the changes brought on by the shifting sands of time quite like I had.


    So, I promised Jin to never become as clinical, as detached, as my grandfather. I promised not to treat our children like experiments or sculptures to be beaten and carved into shape. I promised to raise them as people, not emotionless embodiments of my clan legacy.


    As I held the twins and reminisced, I lamented that I failed so harshly in my wedding vows. The flicker of surprise on the faces of the twins that I''d allowed them to hug me at all was proof enough. Even with all that I learned from Jin, I was far from a nurturing mother.


    Quashing my thoughts, I telekinetically flipped them upside down, they were still young enough to find such goofy uses of powers funny, and asked, "Did you finish your homework?"


    "Yes, mother," Liza said, echoed by her brother a moment later.


    "Tomorrow''s?"


    "Yup, and the day after, too!"


    "Show me."


    "Okay, I bet I got more right than Tate."


    "Nu-uh! I''m better at math than you, Liz!"


    I allowed them to bicker. Scholarly literature from accomplished child psychologists said such competitiveness between siblings was healthy. Jin let out a sigh, half in exasperation and half in bemusement, but said nothing.


    This was our compromise after all. When I began teaching them, he felt that I was being too demanding, especially when psychic training was stacked on top of the standard academic curriculum. My response was simple: Turn everything into psychic training.


    No, the teacher had yet to assign tomorrow''s homework. No, I didn''t care. I expected them to divine the future and do the most likely assignments ahead of time. This would double as divination training while giving them more free time outside of school. They were doing the same amount of work as other children, just a day or three ahead.


    That was reasonable, whatever my dear husband said to the contrary.


    I allowed Liza and Tate to lead me by the hand to their room as Jin looked through a list of delivery menus. Neither of us could cook so we ended up placing orders for takeout daily. With an astronaut and a former noble gym leader who also happened to be a precognitive, money was never going to be a concern. There were entire teams of porygon employed by various politicians, corporate directors, and other important bigwigs dedicated to analyzing my investment portfolios, some I tanked intentionally.


    Jin tried to perform acrobatics in a zero gravity chamber while drunk. I made some of the most powerful men in the world cry. I was told hobbies were healthy; it really did wonders for my stress levels.


    X


    I spent an hour checking their homework and instructing them on what they did wrong. I also made sure that they hadn''t simply taken the answers from the teacher''s files instead of doing the exercises properly. I could have assigned this task to Alfonse or Somber, but I read that spending time like this, no matter how banal, was a good way to bond with children. Time together was apparently a critical part of showing I cared.


    After that, I went about nurturing their individual talents. Despite common misconceptions, Tate and Liza did not in fact have identical powers. They were twins, two halves of the same whole. There was no reason the two haves had to be identical.


    Tate, perhaps due to his gentler nature, excelled at empathy, much like his older brother. But unlike my eldest, he also had talent in all forms of divination as well as healing. He was the youngest in clan history to replicate the move Heal Pulse, something I myself had only managed in my teens after studying Alice''s aura flow for weeks.


    Liza was far more extroverted than her brother. She was the first to learn teleportation and her telekinesis was more pronounced. Better weight capacity, better range, better fine control, even if she mostly used it to prank her brother.


    The two had a competition of sorts, Tate trying to see and foil his sister''s plots before she could execute them and Liza trying to use her powers creatively to bypass her brother''s sight. It was a competition I wholly encouraged, all the better to develop their powers.


    The two completed each other. Their twin bond allowed them to share their expertise, giving the illusion that they were both supremely gifted at every aspect of the psychic arts.


    More than anything, this was why I disinherited Aaron. No matter what I told him, he was not irredeemably untalented. There were clan heads who started with less than he did. It wasn''t impossible for him to become the next Mossdeep Gym Leader. He possessed an emotional maturity that was belied by his age. He worked hard. He could have thrived under my training had I followed through with the same regimen grandfather did for me.


    I did not doubt my son''s resolve. I was proud of him; he could have excelled, just as Tate and Liza were now.


    But he would have been alone. He would have become like me.


    Psychic training for a human was much different than for a pokemon. Humans, lacking the natural talent of most pokemon, needed to undergo the kind of strenuous training that grandfather put me through. Humans needed a tighter lid on our emotions, needed an unnatural discipline enforced by hours of meditation.


    Jin wasn''t wrong to compare it to brainwashing and I didn''t want that for Aaron.


    So, I gave him what I could. To the natural empath, I gave Artoria, a ralts, and kicked him out. My journey contained some of the happiest memories in my life, the times when I truly discovered the value of relationships.


    No, the Summers legacy ought to go to Tate and Liza, the twins with unrivaled talent, and most importantly, each other.


    I watched my children coach each other on their respective strengths for a while longer before locating the mirror in my dresser and teleporting it into my hand. "That''s enough. We''re going to practice long-distance scrying."


    Tate broke from their staring contest. "Ooh, can we scry Aaron? He''s going south to Oldale, right?"


    "He might already be at Oldale actually," Liza hummed. "I read that it only takes four or five days to cross the forest if you hurry."


    "Yea, sis, but big bro''s not the type to hurry. He probably stopped every few hours to train his team. Maybe he even has a third team member?"


    "True. There are a bunch of neat pokemon in Petalburg Woods. I hope it''s as cute as Jeanne and Artoria."


    "I want him to have a scyther. They''re really cool."


    Liza rolled her eyes. "Boys."


    "Hey, what''s wrong with scyther?"


    "Nothing, baby brother, nothing~"


    "You''re only a minute older than me."


    "Which, by the numbers, still makes you the baby brother, baby brother," she replied with a sly grin.


    "Moommm~"


    I sighed and snapped a telekinetic rubber band into both their noses again. "You are the baby brother, Tate."


    "Yes!" Liza cheered, only to receive a second snap. "Ow!"


    "That doesn''t mean you can make fun of your baby brother."


    "Sowwy¡­"


    I slid the mirror between them. "Now, focus. Put your minds together and try to find your brother."


    "Okay." Liza reached out and took her brother''s hand in hers. Soon, there was a palpable current of psychic energy flowing through this connection, forging a feedback loop that reinforced each sibling. Halfway across Hoenn was quite far, and beyond either sibling on their own, but together, together they could do wondrous things.


    Then, suddenly, the power died. The twins looked up at me with panic in their eyes. "Mom!" they echoed each other. "Where''s Aaron?"


    I blinked in surprise. "What?"


    "We can''t find Aaron," Liza said, voice shaking.


    "We tried looking all around Oldale, but we couldn''t find him!" Tate wailed.


    I frowned. That should not happen. The twins were capable diviners in their own right. Aaron, a brother they loved and were intimately familiar with, should have been well within their abilities to locate. I took the mirror and reached out across Hoenn.


    And then, I too came up blank.


    I, Sharon Fulan, one of the most powerful psychics alive, could not find my own son.


    Preposterous.


    I suppressed the building panic. I had an idea. I severed the mental link I shared with Alfonse. Then, with divination alone, I tried to locate him, only to once again come up blank.


    The link was forged once more and his rich baritone filled my mind. ''Sharon? What was that?''


    ''Just verifying something.''


    ''Oh?''


    ''It seems my son is turning into quite the treasure hunter.''


    ''He found another relic?''


    ''He found another relic.''


    ''Hah, that boy¡­''


    I nodded to the twins and silenced them with a raised hand. Rather than tell them what was happening, I decided to employ another piece of advice I read and turn this into a lesson. "Scry Alfonse."


    "Huh?"


    "Scry my alakazam. Find him."


    "Why?"


    "Do it."


    "Yes, mother," Liza said with a whine. Then her eyes widened as she once again came up blank. "I can''t find him."


    Tate frowned. "What? No way, let me try. I''m better at this anyway." Then he too looked puzzled. "I can''t find him either. What''s going on, mom?"


    I nodded. "Figure it out."


    "Another lesson?"


    "A riddle. Aaron is likely in no danger."


    Liza clapped her hands. "Alfonse knows how to block scrying attempts, right?" I nodded leadingly. "Artoria must have learned how to do it too!"


    "No."


    "Aww¡­"


    Tate scrunched his nose in concentration. It was the exact same face Jin made when he was thinking and it made me want to ruffle his hair. "Umm¡­ Artoria is probably too young to learn to block scrying attempts, right?"


    I shook my head. "No. She could learn if she so desires, but she has Quinn''s mentality and is unlikely to invest much time in the esoteric branches of the psychic arts over training her swordsmanship."


    "Hehehe, I still think it''s awesome. Think she''ll become the first female gallade?"


    "Unlikely. The gallade evolution requires specific gene sequences only located in the male sexual chromosome. Without the right genes, she will not form the right proteins that catalyze the evolution process in response to a dawn stone." The twins stared at me blankly and I remembered that I was speaking to ten year old children. "You will learn more about biology in the future. Just know that she will not become a gallade. Now, back on topic. Whether she can or cannot learn anti-scrying measures is irrelevant. She would not use them on you if she knew, and she does not have the temperament to begin learning at all."


    "So it''s not something she''s doing¡­ Aaron has a third pokemon and it''s a powerful psychic? Or maybe a dark type?"


    I nodded. "That is one possibility¡­"


    Liza cut in. "But that would mean that a random wild pokemon learned these techniques on its own. In the middle of Petalburg Woods. That doesn''t seem very likely, unless it''s a gardevoir from one of the covens."


    "Quite. So what is the simplest logical answer?"


    I could see the moment the twins reached my conclusion. "He has another mega stone!" they said together.


    "Perhaps, or perhaps not. Remember, many relics can disrupt scrying attempts, not just mega stones," I informed them, but they were no longer listening.


    "That. Is. AWESOME!" the two yelled as one.


    "It''s definitely a mega stone, right?" Liza said excitedly.


    "Uh-huh. I bet it''s for Artoria. The new Kalos Champion has a gardevoirite, right?" Tate added.


    "Maybe not? If he''s already crossed Petalburg Woods, he''d be at the Oldale Ruins. He could have gotten something for a cave-dwelling pokemon, like an aggron. Ooh, you think his third pokemon is an aggron?"


    "No way, Aaron''s too nice to raise an aggron. They''re super territorial, you know."


    "Yeah, but what else could he find in the ruins? A zubat?"


    Tate shrugged. "You never know, sis. He might find a mega stone no one''s ever heard of."


    "Or, maybe mom''s right and it''s a different relic. It''s the ruins so it''s possible. Maybe he discovered something related to the Titans. Or even better, the Land and Sea!"


    "Yeah! I bet he has tons of stories! Like traps and secret treasure rooms. How else can he get a relic?"


    I sighed and shook my head fondly but did not bother to stop them. The Oldale Ruins had been cleared out for longer than I''d been alive, near enough to a century, and it''d be a true miracle should Aaron find anything of worth there.


    But that did not matter to my children. Aaron used to tell them tales of a grand adventurer with a heart of gold, a wide-brim hat, and a whip who explored ancient crypts and recovered relics for museums. He told them many tales about many different figures, but that one came to mind for the twins now.


    Was it normal for children to think so highly of their older sibling? I had no idea, but it was probably fine, all the books said this was good.


    That did leave the question however: Just what did he find?


    Author''s Note


    I''m pretty happy with this. Was the battle stompy? Absolutely. Even so, I feel like with how much I hyped up Sharon and her elite team, it kinda needed to be if I wanted to do her justice.


    In other news, Quinn is a dignified swordmaster. Alice is kind of a bitch. Sharon is just as hard on her challengers as she is on Aaron. That said, this was an elite challenge; she''s not quite this harsh on normal challengers.


    As far as this fic goes, Psychic Terrain doesn''t outright stop "priority moves" like in the games. Instead, it provides a sort of pseudo-Ultra Instinct a la Goku, but only for those capable of harnessing psychic energy freely. It''s also not limited to "grounded" pokemon, because that distinction is stupid.


    Sharon Fulan is a complicated woman. Is she a good mother? Ehh¡­ not really¡­ But she''s not evil. I know that she seemed vilified from Aaron''s perspective, but that was never my intention. She''s got a very skewed understanding of parenting, but she''s trying in her own way.


    Patrons voted they didn''t care about a shoutout so I''m going to stop doing that.


    Thank you for reading. To reach a wider audience, and because I enjoy a more forum-like setup to facilitate discussion, I like to crosspost to a wide variety of websites. You can find them all on my Link Tree: https://linktr.ee/fabled.webs.</a>

 3.6 Soup

    Soup 3.6


    Aaron Fulan


    Petalburg Woods, Hoenn Region


    Durvasa watched as Artoria and I slowly moved through our katas, mirroring one another in perfect harmony. His eyes were narrowed in annoyance at the seemingly languid pace, but also in contemplation.


    And wasn''t that an unusual sight, a contemplative mankey.


    Last night was comfortable enough. Sure, there was a hole in my sleeping bag, but any evening chill was warded off by cuddling with Jeanne.


    No, the drama came in the morning.


    Durvasa saw Artoria and I doing our basic stretches and laughed because it seemed so unnecessary. My starter tried to explain the concepts to him, but he mocked her, saying how he pitied her because she wasn''t born with a body overflowing with vitality.


    Judging by the flares of irritation, him acting up was as much a way to establish himself in his new "troupe" as it was an attempt to redeem himself for yesterday''s loss. His mocking got annoying enough for Artoria to challenge him to a duel, though admittedly, she''d never been all that great at handling mockery.


    My third pokemon had apparently been waiting for this and demanded a duel of purely physical combat ability, saying that a warrior shouldn''t need psychic powers to be dangerous. Or, that was the gist; I understood that I was getting Artoria''s half of the story, which naturally came with her biases.


    I sat out.


    I''d heard from mom that it was good to let team dynamics play out sometimes. There was a time when her alakazam, Alfonse, had challenged Quinn, believing that because he was smarter, he ought to be mom''s second. Quinn accepted, slapped him around with Shadow Sneak before Alfonse could implement any of his many plans, and tied his mustache into knots until the then-kadabra admitted the gallade''s superiority.


    Alice? The sadistic bitch probably made popcorn.


    As I saw it, this was much the same. Not all pokemon would question a starter''s authority on the team. Hell, some trainers didn''t really make the distinction between different pokemon and went out of their way to not grant any sort of authority to any particular pokemon. It all depended on the specific pokemon and tempers in question.


    For example, a trainer who started with an abra from mom would likely find it a challenge to get their starter to invest in anything beyond itself. Leadership roles were kind of hard to fulfill when you slept for eighteen hours a day after all. On the other hand, a drowzee as a starter could very well seize too much authority, nudging and manipulating its teammates to suit itself, sometimes without the trainer''s consent or knowledge.


    So far, I''d lucked out in that regard. Artoria could be overzealous at times, but there was no denying that her heart was in the right place. She also put so much emphasis on the knightly virtues that I could easily rebuke her simply by pointing out ways she erred. Not all pokemon were so open to criticism.


    And Arceus knew Jeanne never cared enough to challenge Artoria. Lick her and generally get on her nerves, yes. Mock her until she blew up, no. Jeanne was the performer, and though their personalities sometimes seemed like night and day, even Artoria could not deny that Jeanne gave her all and more to improving herself. There was mutual respect there.


    Then there was Durvasa. I should have expected a challenge when I picked up a mankey. They were heavily territorial and prone to infighting. Not even for any specific thing necessarily either, fighting was just part of their societal dynamic. Seeing how this was Artoria''s first real hurdle as my self-proclaimed right hand, I let her deal with this duel as she pleased.


    The result was¡­ predictable.


    Artoria never once resorted to overt uses of psychic power, not even Mana Burst for mobility. Instead, she slapped him around with her spoon all morning, catching him with the head of the spoon and redirecting his momentum straight into the ground. Repeatedly.


    In game terms, Durvasa hit himself with recoil.


    It didn''t matter how robust a fighting type''s body was. In the end, the ground won.


    Eventually, Artoria''s indignation made way for boredom and she drew a circle around her with her spoon, telling him that she''d concede defeat if he could move her from that spot within an hour.


    He could not.


    The problem wasn''t just that she was an exceptionally well-trained kendoka by this point and that Durvasa, for all his rage-fueled enthusiasm, wasn''t terribly skilled. No, the problem was that technically, she was using psychic power, albeit not in a way she could actively turn off.


    She was a kirlia, some of the most capable natural empaths in the world. She was also at the stage of her life when most kirlia, herself included, began to hone their precognitive abilities. She''d started training them on the way to Verdanturf immediately after her evolution against Wattson''s electrike and her efforts were clearly paying off.


    Poor Durvasa wasn''t facing a more skilled martial artist. He was facing a more skilled, empathic, precognitive martial artist. Without a small horde at his back, he had no chance in hell of actually touching her.


    It was amusing at first, but then became kind of sad towards the end. It didn''t help that Jeanne started to cheer Durvasa on, glowing tail-bulb in lieu of pom-poms and all.


    Ultimately, Artoria didn''t humiliate him for the sake of it, though I didn''t doubt there was some personal pleasure in it too; she spent the next several hours while we walked lecturing Durvasa on everything I''d taught her about physical conditioning, discipline, technique fundamentals, and the importance of repetition.


    Which led to the current scene.


    He watched Artoria and I practice in silence for several minutes before standing and copying us. He picked up a stick and aped Artoria''s stance.


    I stopped and knelt to face him. "Durvasa, do you want to use a sword?"


    "Mankey," he said with a careless shrug. He swung the stick around with one hand and I had to stifle a laugh. Durvasa was like a child who kept losing to his big sister and copied her in whatever she did to try and beat her.


    Pointless, there was more to it than just having a weapon, but it at least showed a genuine desire to improve.


    I could work with that.


    Gently, I caught the stick at the base of his paw and twisted against his wrist, making him yelp at the surprise sensation of his muscles cramping and drop his "sword." I looked him over. "Durvasa, you know you''re not going to improve like that, right?"


    "Man, mankey."


    ''How can I achieve enlightenment if I cannot beat the spoon-pixie?'' Artoria helpfully translated, shooting a dirty look at her new teammate for the nickname.


    "You''re a fighting type. You already have a strong body. Do you really think that a stick is going to stand up to the kind of force you can put into your attacks? No, right? As for Artoria, she uses that spoon to channel her psychic power. Yeah, she''s worked hard to be as skilled as she is now, but the spoon is also a way for her to use psychic attacks in close combat. You and she are not the same. You won''t improve just by trying to copy her."


    "Mankeee¡­" he glared at me mulishly.


    ''He wishes to know how to become stronger quickly.''


    "Even if Artoria and I taught you the sword, is that how you want to be stronger? By walking the same path she does? If you do that, you''ll only ever be chasing her shadow. You want to catch up to her one day, right?"


    "Key."


    "Well, then you need to do it on your terms, not hers. For starters, think about your body type. You have very broad shoulders, but your arms are spread apart enough that you would have trouble grasping a sword with both hands in the traditional kendo style. If you are looking to evolve, you''re going to have to find your own style that suits the body you have. How about this? I''m going to teach you some of the things I know about fighting without a weapon. I''m a swordsman first, but I do know a reasonable amount about martial arts purely by osmosis."


    "Mankey."


    He stared at me blankly, not quite believing that I could help him. He wasn''t wrong. I had a few boxer friends in my old life, and one who was a fourth-dan karateka, but that was hardly the same thing as being an expert myself.


    But that didn''t mean I was ignorant either. I knew what a good punch looked like. I knew what a mankey should learn as one grew. I understood how to condition the body. For now, that''d be enough.


    I held out a hand. "How about this, Durvasa? Artoria''s been with me for almost four months now. Just one. I only want one month of your time. Thirty days. In those thirty days, you''re going to do everything I tell you and I''m going to train you into the ground my way. Then, if you don''t think you''ve gotten any stronger, I''ll teach you to use the sword. Or I''ll bring you back here and release you. Whichever you want."


    "Mankey. Mankey?" he eyed me critically.


    ''He wishes to know if you think he can catch up to me in a month. Arrogant. There is no substitute for time and experience; a month is not enough,'' Artoria huffed in my mind as she swung her spoon. She''d transitioned to cloaking her weapon in ghost type aura as she went through her katas.


    "No, not a chance in hell," I told him truthfully. Then, I placed a hand on his head, palming it like a basketball before he could blow up. "Why? Because Artoria isn''t standing still. She''s always moving forward and so is Jeanne. By the time you''re good enough to beat her as she is today, she''ll be much stronger too. That''s what you should want. If she stood still for you, she wouldn''t be worth chasing, right?"


    "Man¡­" he muttered, simmering down a bit.


    "What I can promise is that you''ll be able to force her to use her psychic power. She''ll have to take you seriously, not just slap you out of the air. It''s not where you want to be, but it''s a big milestone. Deal?"


    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.


    "Mankey," he nodded.


    I took his paw in my hand and shook it. "Alright, it''s a promise between men. For one month, you''re going to do everything I say, no matter what. In exchange, I''ll make you strong, and hopefully, teach you more about yourself."


    "Mankey."


    And that was how I got my little ball of rage to obey me. The first thing I did in designing his training plan was, of course, to flip open the pokedex:


    Mankey, the "pig monkey" pokemon. It is a small, agile simian pokemon that commonly dwells in forest treetops in large colonies. It has an especially prominent adrenal gland, which is why it feels emotions such as anger, agitation, and excitement much more strongly than humans or most other pokemon. Due to its irascible nature, it is recommended that new trainers steer clear.


    This mankey is male and knows the moves Encore, Leer, Focus Energy, Scratch, Fury Swipes, and Covet.


    I let out a low whistle. "Okay, first things first, I need to teach you at least one fighting type move. You can''t rely on the strength of your own body forever. Eventually, technique''s gotta play into things if you want to get strong."


    "Mankey," he replied, folding his arms over his fuzzy chest with an expectant nod.


    "Kirlia," Artoria grumbled. She held up her spoon threateningly, getting Durvasa to bare his teeth. I thought they''d come to blows again, but Artoria nodded, seemingly satisfied. "Kir."


    "Alright," I clapped. "Let''s get to work. For starters, you''re going to work on physical conditioning. I had Artoria and Jeanne do this and now so will you."


    "Mankey," he nodded obediently. He seemed to be taking our bet to heart.


    My plan was simple. I dug around in my bag for the biggest collapsible pot I could find, an eight quart steel pot made by Devon Corp, and filled it with dirt and rocks. I then filled it with water to pat down the material and fill the gaps before clamping the pressure seal lid. Taking some survivalist rope, I fashioned a harness around the pot and strapped it to Durvasa''s back.


    "Heavy?" I asked teasingly.


    "Man! Mankey!" he shouted, the weight seemingly making him somehow more excitable. He jumped up and down before doing a flip, just to prove he could.


    "It''s probably thirty or forty pounds. I know it''s not a lot for a fighting type, but don''t worry, it''ll feel much heavier after a few hours."


    "Mankey-key."


    "Alright, so here''s what you''re going to do, Durvasa. You''re going to wear this all day, every day until I can get you a better set of restraints in Oldale. While we walk, you''re going to use Focus Energy. Constantly. I don''t just want it to be a move for you; I want it to be your natural state of existence. If I''m right, controlling your anger is going to start with building greater discipline and awareness of your surroundings. Until then, that''s what you''re going to practice, got it?"


    "Mankey," he said with a resolute nod.


    I''d heard what the dex was telling me: A mankey''s biggest strength and weakness was the same, its temper. This exercise wasn''t strictly about physical conditioning, though that was nice too; it was about honing Durvasa, body and mind. I hoped that by instilling in him the discipline needed to maintain Focus Energy twenty-four seven, I could also help him harness that simmering anger more effectively.


    And so we set off for Oldale, training along the way. During breaks, I had him practice karate chops, ten with each arm per set, until he could turn the motion into a proper, aura-filled move. It didn''t take long to see results, Durvasa''s natural talent and typing coming through within only two sessions. I kept him at it regardless. After all, it wasn''t enough to be able to do something; a fighter needed to move with near instinctive grace.


    To my right, Artoria walked with her mega stone in hand, still trying to use it to accustom herself to fairy type energy. She could conjure the elusive, pink aura in her hands now, cloaking her arms with it, but shaping it into anything usable was still far beyond her. As for learning actual moves, most fairy type moves on record were ranged and the less said about Draining Kiss, the better.


    I told her once over break to "pucker up" and channel fae energy to her lips. Draining Kiss didn''t need to be a long-ranged attack after all. The look of pure mortification on her face made me decide to never mention the move again. I did stealthily sneak a picture for the twins and Lisia though.


    No, we''ld just have to develop our own fairy type move¡­ as usual¡­


    To my left, Jeanne juggled Electro Balls by bouncing them off her paws and tail. She''d moved on to doing that while maintaining Agility. The pinkish violet aura constantly sputtered out whenever she became too focused on her juggling but I could see her getting better.


    When we stopped, just for fun, I had her try our old contest routine. She was able to perform it flawlessly, having far outgrown the level of technique needed to do so. I''d remember the way her face lit up for a long time. Her joy at having passed the benchmark she''d set for herself was contagious and even Durvasa took time out of his moving meditation to congratulate her. In irate grunts followed by what I presume was "Shut the fuck up so I can focus," but congratulate her he did.


    Progress.


    X


    Oldale Town, Hoenn Region


    Oldale was even more rural than Verdanturf, but in a distinctly different way. Where Verdanturf was a rainbow paradise of flower gardens and berry orchards, Oldale reminded me much more of classic agrarian towns of my old world.


    Sandwiched between the coast and the woods, it was a town of low hills and green meadows. There was a small town center with a bank, pokemon center, motel, town hall, sheriff''s office, and a few other important services, but it was clear that most of the community made their livelihoods through farming. According to the guidebook, the town''s primary exports were grapes, not to be confused with grepa berries, and alfalfa, which was used for hay on ranches. Apparently, Oldale had several craft wineries that came highly recommended.


    ''Something you are not old enough to savor, my lord,'' Artoria drawled.


    ''I know, Artoria. Besides, I don''t trust mom not to somehow find out and make my life miserable.''


    ''Lady Sharon is the paragon of discipline.''


    ''Heh, that''s one way to put it.''


    The four of us walked until we came across the town''s welcome sign.


    "Welcome to Oldale Town!" it said, then right below that was the tagline, ''Where things start off scarce."


    ''That is an odd thing to say about your own town,'' Artoria mused.


    ''I remember why. Mom made me memorize the history of all the different settlements. The slogan sounds silly, but it''s likely a callback to how the town got its start,'' I told her. ''The town was originally established during the Fragmentation Era by refugees from Petalburg who didn''t want anything to do with the fighting. Those humans and pokemon abandoned everything to start anew and lived off the land, probably not unlike what most of the town does for a living.''


    ''Why did they leave Petalburg? Even if they did not want to fight, could they not have contributed in other ways? Peace is a noble goal, but their actions sound more like cowardice.''


    ''This was early on in the Fragmentation Era and the Wars of Conquest. Petalburg was a coastal power but lacked the population to be a credible threat to Rustboro. When Rustboro decided to expand, Petalburg fought but ultimately surrendered and became a vassal state. Rather than burn the city to the ground, Rustboro''s leadership decided that the best way to absorb Petalburg was to conscript men and pokemon into their armies.


    ''Obviously, not everyone stuck around. Those who left Petalburg during that time started Oldale from nothing, hence the slogan, "Where things start off scarce." Interestingly enough, it''s still not clear whether Oldale''s first residents were truly just refugees and farmers or were the first recorded terrorists in history, the Daggers.''


    ''Terrorists, my lord?''


    ''Yup. Keep in mind that this was way back in 132 BF, so more than a full century before Eva Mikuri''s nonsense. Rustboro had a lot of early success in the Wars of Conquest because they have a geographically advantageous location. Coastal power, surrounded by natural fortifications,a long history of friendship with local rock types, you name it. But that early success meant they were spread thin. Their habit of forcibly conscripting men and pokemon from settlements they conquered began as a way to bolster their numbers. That was well and good for the short-term, but you can''t step on people like that for so long without brewing up a whole lot of bitterness and resentment.''


    ''Ah,'' Artoria hummed, ''I think I begin to understand.''


    ''Mhmm. The Daggers were a shadowy organization dedicated to the fall of Rustboro by any means necessary. Which chiefly meant assassinating their ruling council, generals, or anyone else of importance. No one''s quite sure who made up the Daggers or where they were based since Rustboro pissed off so many of their neighbors, but Oldale definitely had a motive to help them out under the table.''


    ''These Daggers sound¡­ dishonorable.''


    ''They were,'' I didn''t deny it. ''They were murderers, thieves, arsonists, kidnappers, and a whole lot worse. They did awful, inhumane things to people and pokemon in the name of revenge or independence. But remember, Artoria, they saw themselves as the good guys.''


    ''How? How could any of that be good?''


    ''They considered themselves freedom fighters. I don''t doubt that in whatever community sheltered them, they were seen as heroes and potential liberators, avengers whose acts allowed their loved ones to rest in peace.''


    ''That¡­ That is wrong¡­''


    ''War has no winners. But yes, that''s why the slogan exists. Oldale started from those who had nothing. Rather than seek wealth or power, they sought to live in peace, much as you see now.''


    ''I see¡­''


    ''So tell me, Artoria, were the founders of Oldale cowards?''


    ''I¡­ I want to say yes. A knight should protect. But they were not knights. They chose to leave rather than see their children conscripted. Is there wisdom in cowardice?''


    ''You know what I think?''


    ''What do you think, my lord?''


    ''I think they were protecting something in their own way. They weren''t strong so they made the choice that preserves their way of life, the choice that protects their children, and the choice that kept them from descending into the cyclical bloodbath that the Wars of Conquest became. You can call them cowards, maybe you''re right, but ultimately, I think history proves that they were wiser than anyone else.''


    ''Perhaps you are right.''


    I chuckled and ruffled her hair. I was glad that my hours slaving over textbooks in the family library could help my starter. She was a knight through and through, and that came with a black and white mentality. By teaching her the history of our world, and sometimes my old world, I hoped to break her from that way of thinking. The world was seldom so black and white after all; it was often a chaotic kaleidoscope of grays.


    By contrast, Jeanne was as easy to please as ever. She hummed to herself as she skipped along before reaching down to pick a dandelion off the side of the road. She showed me the vibrant, yellow flower and with a bleating cry, stuffed it into her mouth to be mashed into green paste. Not for the first time, I wondered if grass pokemon saw her the same way she saw ursaring and mightyena.


    Durvasa was even more excitable now that we''d excited the forest. Everything was so new to him, from the fields of alfalfa to a tauros-drawn cart rolling lazily along the road. He pointed at every new thing with the curiosity of a small child who''d only realized just now how wide the world could be.


    "Man! Mankey!" he cried shrilly, gesturing towards a pelipper-shaped wind vane.


    "That''s a wind vane, bud. Humans use it to tell us what direction the wind is blowing."


    "Mankey," he snorted. "Man-mankey. Key."


    ''He says humans must be stupid,'' Artoria dutifully translated with a frown. ''"Why would humans need something to tell which direction the wind is blowing? Just stick your hand into the air like a normal pokemon."''


    "Hahahaha, you''re not wrong, Durvasa," I said with a laugh. To be fair, I didn''t know why they were so common either. "It seems useless to you and me, but I''m sure they have their reasons for keeping one up."


    "Mankey?" he asked, this time pointing towards a large, red wooden structure.


    ''"Which troupe-leader lives there? He must be strong to have a big nest."''


    "That''s a barn. It''s for those tauros you saw earlier. Several tauros live there at once and there is an upstairs storage area for hay a lot of times. That''s why the building is so big. Strong humans don''t always have big houses."


    "Man?"


    ''Do you not have a big house, my lord? Lady Sharon is the strongest human I know,'' Artoria said. She then chirped something back to Durvasa, likely telling him what the Mossdeep Gym was like.


    "I suppose, yeah. Strong humans sometimes have big houses, but not always. It''s complicated. Not all humans value strength and not all humans measure strength the same way."


    "Mankey. Mankey. Man," Durvasa said, shrugging dismissively.


    ''He says humans are a confusing mess.''


    "That we are, Durvasa, that we are."


    Author''s Note


    Chattering with teeth bared is a way of showing submission among baboons. As is the presentation of gifts.


    And wow. I really didn''t expect the forest to take up so much time, but here we are. Six chapters (seven or eight if you count the tail end of the previous arc), and we''re finally here in Oldale.


    Yay, more fake history. Also, have a history fact (definitely not running out of animal facts, promise): The Daggers were a real group. Or rather, the Dagger-Men, also called the Sicarii in Hebrew. They were a Jewish nationalist group who wanted independence from Rome by any means necessary and best known for killing Roman officials sent to Israel. The Sicarii are considered to be the oldest example of politically motivated terrorism, or at least among the oldest we have on record. For you FGO fans, they predate the Hashashin by centuries.


    Thank you for reading. To reach a wider audience, and because I enjoy a more forum-like setup to facilitate discussion, I like to crosspost to a wide variety of websites. You can find them all on my Link Tree: https://linktr.ee/fabled.webs.</a>

 3.7 Soup

    Soup 3.7


    Aaron Fulan


    Oldale Town, Hoenn Region


    The pokemon center was as humble as the rest of the town. Which wasn''t to say it wasn''t well-equipped; if there was one thing this world''s humans took seriously, it was pokemon and healthcare for said pokemon, but it was clear that the building could use some renovation. Actually, looking around, a lot of buildings were like that. Most were traditional log houses, with only the town hall, sheriff''s office, and other keystone buildings made of brick and mortar.


    Surprisingly enough, it was Durvasa who brought the distinction to my attention. He seemed to draw strange conclusions about the social hierarchy of humans from different context clues, clues that didn''t actually mean anything in the way he was used to.


    Perhaps I should not have been surprised; mankey and primeape formed heavily stratified social dynamics with a clear alpha male. Not only were the alphas the largest, they got first pickings of mates, food, and of course, the choicest nesting spots. So from Durvasa''s perspective, the largest or perhaps the most durable house seemed like the natural place for the "alpha human" of Oldale to reside.


    I had a hell of a time explaining that while the mayor could be considered the "alpha" in a manner of speaking, and he did indeed reside in a nice farmhouse manor, he was not in fact the boss of everyone in town, nor would beating him up help Durvasa achieve "enlightenment," whatever the hell that meant.


    I sighed as I entered the pokemon center. I knew a mankey as tactical as mine couldn''t possibly be normal but I''d hoped for a more moderating influence on my team of lovable idiots.


    ''We are not idiots,'' Artoria sniffed. ''If anything, most would say the man who expected moderation from a mankey is the fool.''


    ''Oh? What are you then?'' I asked with some humor.


    ''A knight. An idol. A sage. We are dreamers and adventurers, romantics in pursuit of a higher ideal, and though our goals are distinct, our paths and hearts are united as one.''


    ''Have you been going through my memories of shonen anime?''


    Artoria flushed at being caught out. ''One Piece is excellent, especially considering it is about a band of knaves.''


    ''That it is,'' I thought back with a chuckle. ''Any idea what Durvasa means by enlightenment though?''


    ''You do not know, my lord? You are the one who gave him the idea.''


    ''How so?''


    ''You told him that because annihilape gain a ghost type upon evolution, it is likely that the evolution requires a metaphysical component, one pertaining to the soul rather than the mind as common with psychics. You then told him that his namesake was a great sage, an avatar of the God of Destruction himself. How can he not consider the final evolution his enlightenment?''


    ''Of course. It''s clearly my fault.''


    ''It is.''


    ''So on the chuuni scale of one to you, how bad is he?''


    ''I feel like I should be offended by that remark,'' she huffed. ''If you must know, when he declared that he shall "achieve the ultimate enlightenment by mastering his body and soul with the unyielding force of his will," and that "his soul shall burn the heavens until the very stars are snuffed out in the grand inferno of his fiery rage," he seems to believe that he can get closer to this goal by learning more about the world beyond Petalburg Woods. Does that answer your question?''


    ''Yes¡­ Yes it does¡­ What have I done¡­''


    She placed a comforting hand on my thigh. ''You have created a training rival for me, my lord. I am grateful. We shall train together to reach greater heights, as iron sharpens iron.''


    Artoria had learned snark. What was the world coming to? Was she going through her teenage rebellious phase?


    Before I could respond to the brat, I heard someone clear her throat loudly. I blinked and realized I''d entered the pokemon center and had been standing in front of the service desk for a few minutes without saying a word.


    "Can I help you, hun?" the receptionist asked pointedly. She was a plump woman who, by the faintest hint of gray in her hair, was just reaching the twilight of her middle-age years.


    I laughed sheepishly. "Sorry, ma''am. I was talking to my kirlia and didn''t realize we''d already arrived."


    "You do that often, hun?"


    "Ehehe, yeah, it''s a bad habit common to a lot of psychic trainers. I''m still working on multitasking."


    "So I see. Your pokemon don''t seem injured. Need a room?"


    "Yes, ma''am."


    "Length of stay?"


    I flipped open the calendar app on my pokenav. It was early April. More specifically, we''d arrived in Oldale with a single day before the contest. I also planned to explore the Oldale Ruins for Artoria so¡­ "Say, do you know anything about the ruins?"


    "Yeah, Alden Umezu runs the tours every few days. Next one is in four days. You came at a great time, hun. He''s been real excited about a stone tablet a friend in Rustboro University sent him."


    I nodded happily. "Then please set us down for five days."


    "Sure thing, hun."


    After registering for our room, free thanks to the gym sponsorship, we decided to head out back to train. I wanted to get a proper set of weights for Durvasa, maybe even for Artoria too, but I wasn''t likely to find a retailer for specialized training equipment until I reached Petalburg. We''d just have to work with what we had, which meant fae-type meditation for Artoria, pushups and suicides for Durvasa, and a rehearsal of the contest routine for Jeanne.


    We worked until the setting sun bathed the sky in hues of purple, yellow, and orange. The four of us laid back on the soft grass, head to head in a cross formation. Durvasa was huffing and puffing, even his fighting type vitality worn down by a full day of nonstop stamina training. Still, he was happy, or as close to not-pissed as a mankey could get.


    "Man, mankey," he said as we watched the clouds roll by on streams of shifting color.


    "Artoria?"


    ''He has an idle thought,'' she dutifully translated. ''The fat human called you "hun." Why? What does affection mean in this context?''


    "Ah, I see. Care to explain, Artoria?" I tried. I figured the more they talked, the more their relationship would improve.


    ''I admit to not knowing the answer myself, my lord,'' she said sheepishly. ''I can say little beyond the strangeness of humans.''


    I had to give it to her, from an outside perspective, it was strange. I paid it little mind. I lived in Virginia in my past life and though Arlington was as north as could be while remaining in the state, there were plenty of people who abided by "southern hospitality." I''d been called "hun," "sugar," and "babe" by so many strangers that it just washed off me like water off a farfetch''d''s back. It was one more casual mannerism that I didn''t put any stock into until it was pointed out to me.


    "It''s just her way of being friendly," I told them. "Some people give others affectionate nicknames, even strangers, because it establishes a friendly conversation from the start. It doesn''t mean anything on its own. Small towns like this especially place a large emphasis on community and cooperation. It''s probably a habit for her; I don''t think she thought about it at all."


    "Mankey."


    "Kirlia-kir."


    "Hmm?"


    ''We agree on something: Humans are strange.''


    "Heh, true that."


    X


    Back in my room, I finally decided to call home. We were sprawled out on the bed, with Artoria in my lap and Jeanne snuggled into my side. Durvasa sat a little ways to the side, within view of the pokenav but so close that we were touching. He reminded me of a child who just hit that awkward age when they were "too cool" for hugs.


    I rolled my eyes and let him be.


    "You haven''t met my mom yet, have you, Durvasa? I also have a dad and two little siblings. You can consider them part of the troupe," I explained. "They''re all the way in Mossdeep."


    "Mankey?"


    "Where''s Mossdeep?"


    "Man."


    "Ah, sorry. Mossdeep is an archipelago, that''s what you call a string of islands."


    "Mankey¡­?"


    ''He would like to know what an island is, my liege,'' Artoria said. ''Perhaps you should begin by explaining the ocean.''


    "Oh, right, sorry. You''ll see the sea soon when we get to Petalburg CIty and what I''m saying might mean something more then, but the sea is¡­ a lake that covers most of the world. The truth is, Petalburg Woods where you lived, and even all of Hoenn, is a very small part of the world. An island is a relatively small section of land jutting out from this ocean. I say small but they''re formed from undersea mountains so they can still be very big.


    "Mossdeep Archipelago is the string of islands that my family oversees. Mossdeep Island is the biggest one and Mossdeep City is where I''m from."


    "Man. Mankey-mankey, man."


    ''That is a lot of different things called "Mossdeep." I do not disagree. Human naming conventions are strange.''


    "Heh, yeah. In older texts, the archipelago used to be called the Tokusane Archipelago. I don''t know when people started referring to the entire archipelago by the name of the largest city but that''s the way it is. Anyway, my parents and siblings live in Mossdeep and this here pokenav lets me call them from far away."


    "Man," he said, nodding seriously. It felt nice seeing him filled with curiosity. He acted like a man who''d been colorblind until now. I wondered if I should have named him "George."


    I dialed my mom''s number. The dial tone rang a whole four times before she picked up.


    "Your psychic protections are impre-Aaron," she cut herself off, blinking twice in surprise.


    "Hello, mother-dearest, were you expecting someone else?" I replied with a cheeky grin.


    "I was. You are incapable of hindering my divination. I assumed Phoebe Fuyou required something of me. But perhaps I should have expected you. Alfonse failed to scry you several days ago. I take it you have lucked into another relic?"


    "The great llama above has blessed me with a relic."


    "I see. I will get your siblings. Perhaps you can disavow them of the notion that you have somehow discovered a hitherto unknown tomb in the Oldale Ruins after battling the spirit of an ancient guardian aggron for the keys to a lost kingdom."


    "Yeah, sure, I''d love to ta-wait what?"


    "Indiana Jones. You spent so much time filling their heads with nonsensical stories that they have come to the conclusion that the only way you could have acquired another relic so soon would be through some grand adventure."


    "Oh, ahahahaha, that''s hilarious."


    Before I could continue, I heard feet banging on the stairs. Then, Liza''s excited voice, "Dad! Mom says Aaron''s on the line!"


    "Sweet, dad''s home too?"


    "Indeed. Jin has been spending more time with us this past week," she said. Though her expression changed little, I could tell she was happy with the new arrangement. "He has been arriving home at more reasonable times to join us for dinner."


    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.


    "That''s great, mom."


    The screen waved and I was soon looking up at my dad. "Hey, son, how''s it hanging?"


    "Really? ''How''s it hanging?'' Is that the hip and cool thing to say these days?" I deadpanned.


    "Hey, I''ll have you know, Tate and Liza think I''m cool."


    "They''re ten. And too nice to hurt your feelings."


    "Ouch. You''re really gonna rip into your old man huh?"


    "Of course, snark is my love language."


    "Heh, good to see you, son. I''m going to set you on the mantle so everyone can see."


    The pokenav shook once again and I was looking down at my family. Tate and Liza were there, tapping their feet impatiently. Alice, Quinn, and Astro, dad''s clefable, were lounging around as well. Dad squeezed between mom and Astro to wrap an arm around mom. I moved the camera away so everyone on my team could also be in view as well.


    "Hey everyone," I called. "I just got into Oldale today."


    "Kir!"


    "Flaaf!"


    "Man¡­?"


    "Yeah, my team says hi. Jeanne evolved now. She''s fat and less fluffy now," I joked, only to receive a painful shock.


    "Flaaf!"


    "Ow!"


    "Heh, you deserved that, bro," Liza chuckled. "Jeanne is still as adorable as always."


    "Y-yeah, you shouldn''t be mean to your pokemon," Tate chimed in.


    "Fine, fine, I''m sorry. Jeanne is still a great cuddler. Anyway, meet Durvasa, my mankey. He tried to steal my backpack and his intelligence impressed me so we made a deal: I help him turn into an annihilape and he becomes my pokemon."


    "I see, that is a hard path," mom said. "You understand that there are less than one hundred confirmed annihilape in the world?"


    "I didn''t know that actually but I figured they''d be about that rare so I''m not surprised. I have a hypothesis that their evolution is triggered by a spiritual awakening. Durvasa calls it his enlightenment. He wants to be the first primeape to master his rage, or at least the first he''s ever heard of."


    "Hmm¡­ It is not an unreasonable hypothesis. I must admit that your guess is as good as mine in this case. Our family has seldom bothered to raise fighting or ghost types."


    "I figured that''d be the case. Any chance you can just take a peek at the future?"


    She smiled wryly. "I could. I could also simply ask colleagues in Indigo or Paldea for reports on the species. But would that really be what you want?"


    I shook my head. Durvasa leaned forward so he could stare at the screen more closely. Then he let out a dismissive huff. "Man-mankey."


    I reached out and pat his head. "You don''t want the answer handed to you?"


    "Man."


    ''Indeed, my lord. He said, "Never! The path to Enlightenment Beyond Death should be a journey of self-realization through the overcoming of trials both physical and spiritual. It should be a deeply personal path walked by every individual and their troupe, a path blazed through sweat and blood. The answer is something I shall seize with the strength of my arms and the blazing conviction in my heart!"''


    ''He said that? Word for word?''


    ''He is¡­ a surprisingly eloquent mankey¡­''


    I looked back at the screen. I decided to sum up the mini-tirade. "No thanks, mom. He said no."


    "You would deny power when it''s readily offered?"


    "I would if I think the journey is worth more than the power being offered."


    She leaned back with a satisfied smile. "As it should be."


    "Woah, are you smiling? I didn''t know you knew how to do that."


    "Artoria," she said plainly. My kirlia''s spoon jabbed unpleasantly into my rib.


    "Kir," the little traitor said, preening.


    That was as long as Tate and Liza were willing to wait. They''d been vibrating in their seats for the past few minutes, kept in check only by Alice''s steadying telekinetic hand.


    "So¡­ speaking of scrying¡­ Did''ya find anything interesting, big bro?" Liza asked, in that not at all subtle way only children could.


    I couldn''t help but tease them a bit. I tapped a finger on my chin in thought. "In the forest? Loads. There was an abra that we kept running into. He teleported away every time but I guess we were going in the same direction because we disrupted his sleep like five or six times. Oh, and then there was that time Artoria and Jeanne had an eating contest. And that time Artoria got herself a fanboy. And of course there''s Durvasa too."


    "You know what I mean, bro!"


    "Ah, you mean the gardevoirite?"


    "The garde-YES! I win, Tate!" she crowed victoriously, fists pumping in the air. "He said you might have gotten a different relic but I said it was a mega stone and now he needs to do my chores for the next week!"


    "Aww, man," Tate moaned. "How did you get another mega stone so fast?"


    "He probably got it from the ruins."


    "Nope, I just got into Oldale today," I pointed out. "And by that I mean I actually just got into town, not I explored the ruins first before coming into town."


    "Oh, well then he must have impressed some super-ancient gardevoir sage in the forest. Mom said there are some covens that help each other out."


    "Actually, Artoria just dug it out of the dirt. Literally. It was half buried beneath a rotting log."


    "Ehh?"


    "Not everything needs to be a grand adventure, guys. Sometimes, the almighty alpaca likes to have mercy on us lesser mortals."


    "What?"


    "Never mind." I scooped my backpack from beside the bed with my foot and kicked it towards my face. Artoria dutifully caught it and revealed her precious., cradling it like a baby. "Anyway, ta-da! The gardevoirite, which honestly doesn''t look like much. I''m told it feels very diff-"


    I couldn''t finish. One moment, Alice was on the other side of the screen, and the next, she was in front of her daughter.


    "MAN!" Durvasa yelped, lashing out with a Scratch that Alice blocked with laughable ease.


    I placed a hand over his head and forced him down. He was a simmering ball of surprise and anger but he wasn''t stupid enough to make more of an issue of her sudden teleportation. She hadn''t even bothered to look at him.


    For her part, Alice stared at the gardevoirite reverently, eyes wide and breath coming in short pants. I hadn''t expected her to show up right away but I supposed some curiosity was to be expected.


    Artoria had been much the same. She was almost obsessive over the jewel for the first few days and Gollum jokes aside, she could feel something I could not, something from the mega stone that uniquely called to the ralts line.


    She stayed that way for several seconds. Then, with a slow blink of her large, ruby eyes, she leaned back, satisfied. I soon felt an insistent mental probe that forged a connection between us.


    ''Greetings, daughter, Aaron,'' Alice said. Her voice was reminiscent of a gentle stream, clear and soothing. It was also completely at odds with the crazy sadist I knew her to be.


    "Ow!" I yelped, more in surprise than pain as I felt something slimy crawl up my spine.


    ''My lord?''


    ''Nothing, Artoria,'' I grumbled, shooting her mother an annoyed glare. For her part, Alice replied with an innocent smile that would have made angels weep in envy. ''I''m going to shave you bald one day.''


    Artoria let out an exasperated sigh. ''You will not shave my mother.''


    ''Aren''t you curious? Have you ever seen a bald gardevoir before?''


    ''I have not. I have no desire to.''


    ''Now that you mention it¡­'' Alice mused, eyeing her daughter curiously, ''You know, I suppose a bald gardevoir would look much like a bald kirlia, just bigger.''


    ''That''s right, mo-Wait, what?''


    ''Yes, it''d be less work, too.''


    I caught on to what she was doing. She''d somehow masked her own emotions, manipulating them to convey only an aura of idle curiosity. If it wasn''t for that slightly too wide smile, I would''ve bought it too.


    Happy to take any chance to tease Artoria, I made an exaggerated show of looking her up and down. ''You know, Alice, I think you''re right. I don''t think anyone''s ever seen a bald kirlia before either.''


    ''I''ll hold her. You do have shears, right?''


    ''Of course. I help Jeanne shave sometimes. Although, I don''t think it''ll be enough to give her a full buzz cut.''


    ''That''s fine. Sharon has been reading more parenting books and articles on developmental psychology. Experts say doing menial tasks such as combing hair or getting a makeover is a great way to bond with children.'' Alice placed her hands on Artoria''s shoulders, more to dissuade any escape attempts I suspected, and said, ''Daughter dear, I''ve been grossly negligent. How do you feel about a mohawk? You can have a little head crest like Quinn! I know how much you want to be a knight like your father.''


    The look of pure, unadulterated horror on Artoria''s face was one I''d remember for ages to come. On cold, dark nights, I would look back on this moment and giggle at the way Alice managed to pervert Artoria''s dearest ambition with but a few sentences.


    ''I-I-No-That''s not-Wha-I DO NOT NEED A HAIRCUT!'' my starter yelped, teleporting away in a flash of light.


    Durvasa and Jeanne stared at the space where Artoria had been, heads tilted in unasked question. Then, seemingly reaching the right conclusion for all the wrong reasons, they visibly scootched away from the sadistic gardevoir to a corner of my bed.


    That did it. I was done. I lost.


    "Hahahahahaha, holy shit, you''re a monster, Alice."


    ''I don''t know what you''re talking about, Aaron. All I wanted was to spend time with my daughter.''


    "Right. You''re just the perfectly innocent lady, aren''t you?"


    ''Of course.''


    "Language, young man," dad said. I''d almost forgotten that the call was still live.


    "Ehehe, sorry, pops."


    "Umm, bro?" Liza asked, "What just happened?"


    "Alice is a sadistic monster who tortures her daughter for her own amusement." A pillow promptly flew into my face. "Where is Artoria anyway?"


    ''She is in an unused washing machine downstairs. One moment.'' Then, in a visible demonstration of her mastery, Artoria popped into existence on her lap. Alice wrapped her arms around her traumatized daughter and whispered sweet nothings into her ear, somehow managing to convince her that it was all a misunderstanding and she would never do something she didn''t want.


    "I give up. Anyway, what do you make of the mega stone?" I asked her.


    ''I do not want it,'' she said plainly. ''Are you surprised? Did you think I would wish to borrow it until she evolved?''


    ''Honestly¡­ yeah,'' I replied in my mind. ''Why wouldn''t you? It''s a mega stone.''


    ''It is. It is power. It is potential. It is the proof of a pokemon''s relationship with their trainer. It is everything we strive for both as individuals and as combatants. It is also worthless to me.''


    That drew Artoria out of her comfy stupor. ''How do you mean, mother?''


    ''It is incompatible with my fighting style, or perhaps outright detrimental.'' She explained further at Artoria''s questioning glance. ''There is a point at which more power is not a good thing.''


    ''Control,'' I realized, ''You''re saying you think it''ll throw off your control.''


    ''Just so, Aaron. From Alfonse''s experience, mega evolution grants immense power, but that power comes with challenges of its own in the form of a new body, new emotions, and new senses. Normally, an experienced pokemon retains enough control to wield their newfound power adequately, with only minor if any decline in performance, but my entire combat style revolves around finesse. Mine is a careful balance of psychic and fae auras and I do not relish the thought of mastering myself again.''


    ''Huh, fair enough. I''m kinda glad actually. Not giving it to you means I have a shield against mom''s scrying.''


    ''Oh? Have you been doing things you don''t want Sharon to see? I suppose you are at that age¡­''


    ''Really? Sex jokes from a gardevoir?''


    ''I feed off positive emotions and lust can be such an exquisite spice~''


    ''MOTHER!'' Artoria screamed in our heads, trying to decide between teleporting away, which she knew was futile, and joining Jeanne and Durvasa in the corner, which she knew was also futile.


    ''Hahahaha, well, I''ll be off now. Keep that gardevoirite safe.''


    And with that, she was here and gone like a sudden storm. The whole interaction took only a handful of minutes.


    When I next glanced at the pokenav, I found that Liza and Tate had grabbed a bag of popcorn from somewhere and were sporting distinctly amused grins. No doubt Alice was telling them all about our little chat.


    I decided to turn the conversation back towards something more useful. "Hey, mom."


    "Yes, Aaron?"


    "I wanted to ask for some training materials. Or advice. Not picky, really."


    "Did you want a book from the library? I can have it teleported to you."


    "Maybe? I''m sure there are things that weren''t digitized. I want something for all three of my pokemon," I said, causing Jeanne and Durvasa to perk up now that they were on familiar ground. "For Artoria, I want primers on fairy type energy and any guides for teaching her to teleport with other people. I didn''t want to start on that in the forest in case I really screwed up."


    "And for your flaaffy and mankey?"


    "Jeanne''s getting the hang of Agility, Artoria''s been teaching her, but I wanted to know if you have any tips for non-psychics picking up the move. I know you''ve done that for some people who''ve visited in the past."


    "I have. That''s easy enough."


    "As for Durvasa, I want Meditate. Not those weekend classes you sometimes give for normies either. I want the move. I''m hoping that it''ll help him get a handle on his anger, maybe also give him a jumping off point for when he touches ghost type aura."


    Mom nodded. "I understand. They''re all reasonable moves to teach and you are not overreaching beyond what your pokemon are capable of. Very well, I will have the materials prepared and delivered tomorrow morning."


    "Thanks, mom," I said sincerely. "Any news on the larvesta egg?"


    "Caitlyn thinks she can get one in several weeks. I suspect you will see it in Petalburg City or Rustboro City if you head north."


    "Alright, yeah, that''s fair. I guess an egg like that is hard even for an Elite Four."


    "Quite. Aaron, do you intend to compete in this year''s Ever Grande Conference?"


    "Umm¡­ Not really? I mean, I don''t have any strong feelings about it. None of my pokemon really care. Jeanne wants to be at the Grand Festival. Durvasa wants to achieve enlightenment. And of course, Artoria''s goal has always been Quinn. It''d be nice but¡­ it''s not really a factor in our decision-making I guess. Why?"


    "You are the slowest of my gym trainers this year in terms of circuit progress. Arbor Flowers acquired his third badge two days ago. The rest have their second or have scheduled their bouts already while you are not even in the relevant city."


    I wracked my brain. Who was Arbor again?


    I had it. He was a chubby boy with black hair and eyes and a rash if determined personality. He also tried a little too hard to be "street" because he hated being the "flower boy." Unfortunately, kids being kids, that just made people mock him even more. I remembered him being in my class since I was ten. "He started with an abra, right?"


    "Indeed."


    "Huh. Good for him. He must really be hauling ass to schedule those battles. Are you upset that I''m not trying to set a record?"


    Mom snorted daintily. It was as much emotion as I''d seen from her. "Hardly. Do you know what they are called? Those who complete their circuit within their first year?"


    "Supernovas, right?"


    "Or starbursts, hanabi, fireworks, and other such names. It is partly celebratory, but also cautionary. Like their namesakes, they tend to burn out swiftly."


    "Not going to warn Arbor?"


    "No. He has chosen his path, as have you. I do not care what path you walk, only that you strive to reach the potential you envision for yourself. All of you."


    "Thanks, mom."


    "So what are your plans, Aaron?" Dad asked. "Are you going to stay in Oldale long? It''s a beautiful town."


    "It is. Today? I''m just going to grab dinner after our call and turn in. The contest is tomorrow evening so Jeanne and I will be polishing up our routine. After that, Artoria wanted to explore the ruins so I think we''re going to sign up for one of those cavern tours. Then we''ll leave west to Petalburg and pick a fight with Norman I suppose."


    "Not a bad plan. Sounds relaxing."


    "That''s the idea."


    "Good. It''s good to take time for yourself, especially when you''re on a journey. Take care of yourself, son."


    "Thanks, dad. Got any recommendations for food around here?"


    "It''s been fifteen years since I was last there, kiddo. I remember a diner making some great chicken-fried steak though¡­ Martha''s? Mary''s? Something like that. It might still be around."


    "I''ll look it up," I promised.


    "Then don''t let us keep you."


    We said our goodbyes and hung up.


    We did find the diner. Turned out, in a sleepy town like this, most businesses were family institutions. The diner was actually called Mirabelle''s, named for the proprietress''s great grandmother. It had been in the family business for eight generations apparently.


    And yes, the steak was phenomenal.


    Author''s Note


    Proof that if you bug me enough, I''ll cave because I''m a limp biscuit.


    Long chat.


    Yeah, that was a weird one for me too. Did you know the mankey line can learn Meditate? And as early as gen 2 via breeding from smeargle? It''s like Game Freak intended for the whole "master thyself" to be a huge part of its journey but never got around to making it a part of the plot.


    Have an animal fact: The American bison is unexpectedly easy to hunt because they have both lungs contained in one pleural cavity. Normally, most animals have two pleural cavities, one for each lung. What this means is that Native Americans shot bison in the chest with a single arrow and this would pierce the pleural cavity, causing both lungs to collapse one on top of the other.


    To be fair, it''s still 2,000 pounds of beef charging at your face, but it''s got a weirdly exploitable weak point like some kind of video game boss.


    Thank you for reading. To reach a wider audience, and because I enjoy a more forum-like setup to facilitate discussion, I like to crosspost to a wide variety of websites. You can find them all on my Link Tree: https://linktr.ee/fabled.webs.</a>

 3.8 Soup

    Soup 3.8


    Aaron Fulan


    Oldale Town, Hoenn Region


    I woke up the next morning and shoved the pink blob of not-quite-mutton off my face. One of the best parts of her evolution in my humble opinion was that she no longer had wool over most of her body, leaving instead a short, downy fur that felt luxuriously silky to the touch and, more importantly, didn''t retain heat nearly as well.


    "Flaaf?!" Jeanne bleated in shock as she fell over onto the floor. She rose up with a doe-eyed teary pout. "Flaafy-flaaf!"


    I scoffed, not buying her act for a moment. "You''re a little big for the innocent lamb schtick, Jeanne," I chided. "I keep telling you not to sleep on my face."


    "Fla-flaaffy. Flaaf."


    "You''re not the least bit repentant, are you?"


    "Flaaf."


    "Fine, whatever. You know we have the contest today?"


    "Flaaf!" she cheered, arms flung high and horns and tail glowing merrily. I smiled, her good mood infectious.


    "That''s the spirit. Come on, let''s get you brushed up. And we can''t forget Solidad''s ribbon."


    "Flaaffy!"


    I chuckled as I watched her run off. She''d bug Artoria for the brushing. Hopefully, the articles I''d sent over to Solidad would prove useful for her.


    I turned and found my mankey. I''d found that he was an early riser, something Artoria swore proved he was destined for the Distortion. He was seated on the windowsill, looking out over the picturesque town.


    "Durvasa, how are you this morning?"


    "Man," my mankey mumbled. He was as always the most complicated pokemon on my team to read. His aura said he was content with the vista before him and the warm bed and full sleep he got, but also¡­ not quite angry¡­ expectant? The peace would not last and so he was upset about the impending disruption, dissatisfied with himself at the rage that constantly simmered beneath the surface.


    I reached out and pet him. I remembered reading how monkey troupes groomed each other as a sign of friendship. Apparently, mankey troupes did the same thing. He had no debris or bugs obviously, not after the pokemon center checked him out, but it couldn''t hurt. "Great. Let''s head out. Morning run, breakfast, individual training, lunch, and then the contest in the afternoon. Sound good?"


    "Mankey."


    "Flaaffy!" Jeanne bleated. She''d found her brush and returned to bug my starter.


    I turned to the last member of my team. Artoria had claimed a pillow for herself and was snuggled against it to my side. "You gonna wake up, Artoria? Or do I have to let Jeanne have her wicked way with you?"


    "Kii¡­" she mumbled.


    I rolled my eyes and scooped her up into my arms. "Maybe hold off on the brushing until after the morning workout, Jeanne. I promise we''ll take our time over lunch, okay?"


    "Flaaffy."


    I walked out to the canteen, trailed by my flaaffy and mankey and a pillow full of kirlia in my arms. It was an old ritual by now; she''d wake up on her own once we got to the yard to stretch. She was only a little more than two feet tall and my hands could easily cover her entire torso.


    The thought hit me, I''d probably be doing this even after she evolved into a gardevoir. It made me snort in amusement, jostling her a little and bringing her that much closer to wakefulness.


    We passed the front desk and saw the same lady from the night prior. "G''morning, hun. Off already?" she greeted us with a wave. In her hand was a cup of joe and a newspaper.


    "Hello, ma''am, just going for a morning run."


    "Good. Breakfast will be served in about an hour. Canteen''s that-a-way. Not many trainers stopping by as early as you so you''ll probably have the place to yourself."


    "That''s great. We appreciate it."


    "Yeah, you run along. Feel free to take a few water bottles from the fridge," she gestured to one of those chilled shelves often found in grocery stores.


    We headed outside and Artoria hopped down from my arms to begin stretching.


    "Kirlia-kir," she trilled. In front of her, Durvasa and Jeanne did their best to copy her as she touched her palms to the ground. It was adorable, the world''s cutest yoga class. Their body types were different so not everything applied but the principles were close enough so I left them to limber up while I did my own stretches.


    I took a deep breath of the countryside air. It smelled of alfalfa hay, freshly turned soil, and a faint hint of manure. The breeze tickled the back of my neck as I twisted and popped my spine. It was amazing being young again. No matter how much I exercised, I''d fought a losing battle against the march of time. No matter how many tournaments I won or how often I perfected my form, there wasn''t anything I could do about simply growing old. Every year, it felt as though my muscles stiffened just a bit more. Forms I''d engraved into my muscle memory came just a little harder, just that tad bit slower. Now that I was thirteen, and had the gift of aura to boot, I had no intention of being ungrateful.


    "Ready up!" I barked. "Jeanne, juggle three! Durvasa, I want fifteen pushups from you every thirty steps! Artoria, teleport as far as you can and back every twenty steps! Clear?"


    I heard them let out an enthusiastic chorus and turned towards the dirt path. I swung my bokken as I began a brisk jog. I''d see about getting some weights fitted for my pokemon in Petalburg, maybe for myself as well. For now, this would do just fine.


    X


    I smiled contentedly as I watched my pokemon bicker over breakfast. The pokemon center was generous enough to provide a hot breakfast bar instead of something simpler like a yogurt and a granola bar. It was southern hospitality at its finest, or whatever the pokemon world equivalent was. As the receptionist said, the canteen was all but empty save for the center employees from the night shift catching a quick nibble before going home.


    The breakfast was standard fare around these parts, what I would have called an "all-American breakfast," save of course the lack of an America. Eggs, rashers of bacon, hash browns, and pancakes filled our plates though there was a distinct lack of maple syrup. Apparently, maple trees didn''t grow this far south. I felt betrayed when I heard that considering the name of the Petalburg City gym leader. Instead, the chef had made a syrupy mixture out of pecha berries and honey.


    A bowl of nanab berries sat alongside normal bananas. I found the pink not-bananas to be a mix of bitter and sweet, leaning towards sweet of course. It wasn''t unpleasant or anything, but the berries tasted better to a pokemon''s palate according to the center employees. Durvasa, as if to prove the stereotype, promptly hogged a bunch for himself as Artoria lectured him on the very best type of scrambled eggs, the ones that were fluffy and cheesy without being too wet, with just the faintest bit of bacon for that smoky savoriness.


    I''d never seen Durvasa look more interested.


    ''Guess "pig monkey" is right,'' I mused as I popped a spoonful in my mouth. ''My pokemon are all gluttons.''


    ''We follow your stellar example, my lord,'' Artoria replied cheekily.


    ''Cheeky. Just don''t eat too much. We still have individual training after this.''


    ''Yes, my lord. I will ensure we are all fighting-fit.''


    ''I don''t doubt it.''


    X


    The Oldale Contest Hall didn''t actually exist. Or rather, it did, just on a temporary basis. It was one part auction hall, one part barn, and occasionally got cleared out for indoor rodeos, contests, battles, and hoe-downs as necessary. The whole thing was basically just a gigantic wooden building with a whole lot of open space in the middle. It was big enough to fit the town but lacked the formal feel of Slateport''s colossal arena. All told, it was a far less "official" structure and I found myself nodding in appreciation of its simplicity.


    I walked in at four-thirty, half an hour before the start of the show.


    Like most everything in such a rural town, the contest revolved around the farmer''s workday. It started late so as to give people enough time to finish up their work in the field, or that was what I heard from the receptionist, a pimply teenager who''d clearly been volun-told for the job.


    He took one look at Jeanne''s sunny disposition and bet a hundred credits with his neighbor, around ten dollars by my estimate.


    ''He has good taste,'' Artoria said, her voice filled with vicarious pride. She explained the significance of what went down to Jeanne. My mareep redefined a "megawatt smile."


    "That he does," I replied with a laugh.


    What struck me most about the contest wasn''t the relatively sparse number of contestants, only sixteen total, but the spectators. There were several dozen people, and also just as many pokemon. Some were family growlithe, miltank, buneary, and the like but there were also plenty of pokemon that likely didn''t have a trainer at all. A noctowl and her four hoothoot brood nestled in the rafters, heads cocked with curiosity. Beneath the bleachers, I thought I spied a nincada stick its head out of its burrow.


    The contest began when the judges took their seats. They at least were similar to Verdanturf: the local head nurse, sheriff, and mayor. A grumpig stepped out in front of the judges to maintain a psychic barrier, probably a necessity in a wooden building like this.


    The mayor picked up the mic and spoke. "Right, welcome folks to the Oldale Pokemon Contest! I know this ain''t near as fancy as the ones out in the big cities but I think we can have a fun evening, eh?"


    ''Artoria, please take Durvasa to the stands,'' I thought to her as the mayor continued with his introduction. The mayor went on about how only normal-rank contests were held here. Still, prestige or not, a ribbon was a ribbon no matter where it came from. The only stage that mattered to Jeanne and I was the Grand Festival.


    ''Of course, my lord. Best of luck in your endeavors,'' she replied, nudging Durvasa up into the stands. I made sure to give Artoria some money so they could buy something to munch on while they watched. She''d already begun regaling Durvasa about the wonders of junk food.


    That was another strange quirk of pokemon-human dynamics. On one hand, humans casually acknowledged that pokemon could be intelligent enough to count, conduct transactions, and otherwise interact with human society.


    On the other hand, humans also acknowledged that pokemon often hunted and ate each other while nursing violent grudges such as those between zangoose and seviper. It felt weird to me, how we respected their intelligence yet simultaneously went out to capture or even cull wild pokemon populations.


    Before I could sink into another mental tangent, the very first contestant went up. Verdanturf Contest had an ordered system in which the most accomplished coordinator went first in order to allow the less experienced members to leave a more recent impression on the judges during the appeals round. Here, it didn''t matter at all; there wasn''t a single ribbon between the lot of us.


    For the most part, the appeals round was as I''d expected coming into this. The majority seemed to be from the town itself and were competing with poochyena, zigzagoon, or skitty, common pokemon who were largely content to remain household pets. Their routines would have been impressive in any dog show on earth, but in a world where every pokemon could comprehend complex commands, they largely bled together into monotony.


    Which wasn''t to say there weren''t any worth watching. The very first to go up had a lot of talent, though it was her costume that initially drew my attention.


    She was a pretty redhead that I''d have pegged for a classic Irish beauty in my past life with ice-blue eyes warmed by laugh lines around the edges. She wore what I could best describe as a medieval peasant girl''s frock, apron and all. I doubted even people in Oldale dressed like that in the last hundred years. At her hip, hanging from a leather strap looped around her shoulder, was a hurdy gurdy, a medieval instrument I recognized from my time touring renaissance fairs across the United States.


    Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.


    She held her dress in her fingertips and fell into a courtesy before the judges instead of a standard bow. "Hello everyone! How''re y''all doing tonight?" she called to laughter and affectionate hoots. She was a local apparently. Then, for the benefit of those new in town, she said, "My name is Onale Gates and my dream is to be Hoenn''s next Grand Coordinator! I''ll be performing a folk song for you all alongside my fiery friend. Come on out, Ember!"


    Onale tossed her pokeball into the air, revealing Ember to be an energetic torchic that ran in a little circle before letting out an adorable chirp that had most of the audience cooing.


    "Well, guess she''s one of Professor Birch''s sponsored kids this year," I mused aloud. "Wonder who the other two are?"


    It wasn''t as though there weren''t other ways to get a torchic but considering her age, unless she was superbly well-connected with breeders near Fallarbor or Lavaridge, the professor was the most likely source. Comparatively, mudkip and treecko were more common, if only because their typing made their natural habitats more abundant.


    Seeing one of my region''s traditional starters reminded me of the lounge of treecko in Petalburg Woods. Ash caught one there, the same that would become one of his strongest pokemon across all regions.


    I shook my head. I didn''t think I could convince him to join me. He''d been willing to stay with his home tree no matter what, to the point that it was only when the tree literally split in half from rotting that he''d left. As powerful as he''d become, I couldn''t take him from his home.


    Onale began to twist the crank on her hurdy gurdy and a low, whining note began to fill the barn, drawing me from my contemplation. The strange instrument relied on a circular wheel to rub against a set of melody and drone strings, the latter creating its distinctive droning background sound. She wanted for several breaths to let the wheel set the ambiance before she began to pluck away at the keys.


    I leaned back and let the music wash over me. She was hardly the best I''d ever heard, that title went to an old, Bavarian woman at the Maryland Renaissance Festival who''d been playing the thing for forty-some years, but she was excellent for her age. The melody was ambiguous, neither slow and sorrowful nor fast and festive. She did not sing, the stage instead belonged to Ember the torchic.


    The chicken-little ran out onto the center of the dirt stage as the melody began to pick up. He, male by the length of the yellow head crest, let out a cute chirp as he fluttered his wings. Embers shot into the air in choreographed patterns, giving him the illusion of lazing wings. He looked like he had an echo of fire that trailed behind him as he began to dance.


    The music reached its climax and he leapt into the air. He twisted and scattered downy feathers into the air. Typically, Feather Dance conjured aura constructs of blue or white that soothed all those caught under its effects. His was instead a vibrant orange like his namesake, so much so that I wondered if the feathers were made using modified embers.


    When the music came to a stop and the torchic took his bow, it was to a standing ovation. The wool around Jeanne''s collar sparked with anticipation. It looked as though she''d found her rival for the day.


    "Flaaffy! Flaaf!" she cheered. Her horns lit up, causing nearby contestants to shield their eyes at the sudden light.


    I placed a chiding hand on her head. "Down, girl. Guess you really liked the show, huh?"


    "Flaaf," she bleated, nodding eagerly.


    "Was it the dancing?"


    "Flaaf," she shook her head.


    "Hmm¡­ the music?"


    "Flaaf."


    "Ah," I rubbed my head sheepishly. "Sorry, but I don''t play any instruments. I dabbled in piano when I was younger but definitely not enough to play in front of an audience."


    "Flaaffy¡­" she sighed. Her disappointment was palpable but I wasn''t sure what I could do. I hit people with pointy sticks and taught other people how to hit people with pointy sticks. I wasn''t exactly a man of culture and fine art.


    Still, I couldn''t dismiss the excitement in her eyes as she saw Onale''s performance. My little lamb obviously wanted me to play a bigger role in her contests so I''d have to find a way to do just that. Truth be told, standing around with my thumbs up my ass while Jeanne went through a pre-practiced routine wasn''t my thing either.


    I also remembered what the judges in Verdanturf said: I was too passive; I lacked personality. Even if it was something silly like me playing a bongo, at least then it''d be something. A little humiliation was worth it if it meant making my pokemon happy.


    "I''ll look into it," I promised her.


    I was lost in thought and didn''t even register the next few contestants, something about a generic game of frisbee with a linoone that ended in a Pin Missile target practice. Boring.


    The only other contestant to catch my eye did so for all the wrong reasons. Where Onale and Ember put on a show of musical talent, pyrokinetic control, and sense of rhythm, Clark Anderson did¡­ something¡­


    He was a big, burly fellow whom the judges announced as being our age but really looked like he was seventeen. His skin was a ruddy red from farmwork and he was clearly no stranger to exercise. He wore a straw hat, no shirt, but covered up with a pair of overalls.


    "Right, howdy, y''all," he said, tipping the hat. He spoke like an actor in a bad western, the accent intentionally played up to go with his outfit. "I''m gonna show ya that us farmboys can throw down too, ya hear?"


    Whatever could be said of Clark himself, his partner was that and more. His partner, a tauros named Jax, was a beast of a specimen that stood more than five feet tall at the shoulder and boasted muscles upon muscles. Hell, his bicep was larger than my head. Jax looked like a professional weightlifter forced into a cow costume.


    It was kinda gross but a part of me wondered how many pounds of steak he''d be.


    ''That''s disgusting, my lord,'' Artoria chided, a hint of humor in her thoughts. Though she was in the audience minding Durvasa, she''d also been listening in on my thoughts.


    ''Hey, beef is beef,'' I said back with a shrug. ''You eat magikarp filets too.''


    ''I understand that nature cannot be helped. I was commenting on the specific specimen rather than the practice. He''d be too tough to enjoy properly.''


    ''Maybe. Then again, that''s why we have stew recipes. And smoking. Do either for six hours and it''ll all tenderize.''


    ''I just want you to know that Durvasa''s first thought too was to wonder about his weight in steaks.''


    ''Great minds think alike.''


    ''I''m glad you two can relate,'' she said, sarcasm practically dripping.


    ''To be fair, he''s going to be very hard to deal with assuming he passes the appeals round. Tauros are very powerful pokemon.''


    ''So they are. Although¡­ Is it okay for the trainer to dump a bucket of oil over him?''


    Sure enough, that''s what Clark was doing. He showered Jax the tauros in what was probably enough vegetable oil to drown Jeanne and had him use Bulk Up. Repeatedly. Jax then stood on his hindquarters and began to flex, making his already prominent muscles bulge out grotesquely. The light of the fading sunset peeked through, making his muscular contours glisten and sparkle.


    ''Alright, yeah, that''s a bit much¡­'' I admitted. I glanced at the judges who looked somewhere between horrified and fascinated. They weren''t saying anything so I figured this was allowed. ''Maybe the bucket of oil is considered a prop like Onale''s hurdy gurdy.''


    ''Perhaps, my lord. I don''t see how this counts as a performance however.''


    ''I mean¡­ it technically doesn''t need to be a performance? It''s called the appeals round. Showing that your pokemon is supremely healthy qualifies, I guess, even if it''s not particularly nice to look at for us.''


    ''Durvasa would like to tell you that he intends to be even stronger than the tauros. "I will not be outdone by steak!" he said.''


    ''Yeah, that checks out. Wannabe sage or not, a fighting type is a fighting type. I intend to get him proper weights in Petalburg anyway.''


    ''Indeed, my lord. Should I use weights as well?''


    ''Maybe? It wouldn''t be the worst thing I suppose, but your strength comes from Mana Edge and Burst, not from your physical power. I''ll have to read up more. I''m sure there''s a book on the subject in the family library somewhere. I think one of the family heads raised a medicham as his starter two? three? generations ago.''


    I didn''t hear what the judges had to say to Clark because Artoria and I descended into a conversation about muscular development and adolescence and if anything I knew from my past life would hold sway where aura was concerned.


    X


    In the end, the four to pass the appeals round were myself, Onale, Clark, and some girl whose linoone gave a solid, if generic, performance. By the luck of the draw, I was placed against Clark for the first combat round.


    Clark stood cross from me with a confident grin. Now that we''d moved onto battles, he clearly thought the hefty bulk of his tauros would let him breeze through to the ribbon. He''d also gone and wiped off the oil, which was unfortunate because I''d planned to set the walking affront to good taste on fire.


    "Coordinators, are you ready?" the mayor called. He looked to each of us and nodded. "Then begin!"


    My opponent wasted no time in shouting out an attack. "Jax! Run over that flaaffy with Horn Attack!"


    "Agility. Evade," I said calmly. Unlike against Solidad, I judged that Electric Terrain would be more of a hindrance here than a help. I didn''t need it to keep Jeanne awake and the limited radius of Electric Terrain would be too small against an opponent that could force Jeanne to skip around like the tauros.


    Jeanne skipped back as a pink light coated her body. She became noticeably faster, just enough to avoid the charge with a pirouette.


    "Keep attacking! It can''t take a hit from you!"


    "I''ll have you know Jeanne is a she," I replied. "Keep dodging. Spore."


    My flaaffy let out an adorable bleat before her head and collar glowed white with aura. Balls of wool erupted from them like the world''s fluffiest cannonade. They covered the tauros in sticky, staticky wool, only for the bull to charge right through, its speed seemingly undiminished.


    "Flaaf!" Jeanne cried out in alarm as the bull bore down on her. I''d miscalculated, there was no such thing as a "two stage speed reduction" in real life. The tauros simply had too much mass and momentum to be stopped by a move like this at her level.


    "Jeanne!" I cried out with worry as she was flung into the air.


    "Yes! That''s the way, Jax! Now let it come down and Stomp!"


    I watched as Jeanne flailed desperately in the air. The tauros had flung her almost high enough to touch the rafters and high-five the noctowl up there.


    I shook my head. Clearly, our standard lockdown strategy wouldn''t work here.


    "Land and Protect!" I called.


    The emerald shield came up just in time to stop the tauros from flattening Jeanne. She rolled way as soon as his hooves went up and let out another torrent of spores. Quantity would eventually override his strength, or so I hoped, but it wasn''t working fast enough. If i did nothing, I didn''t doubt that the judges would call it in their favor.


    "Thunder Wave! Slow it down!"


    "Flaaffy!" she cried. A lance of electricity spread out from her forepaws. As big as the bull was, it was impossible to miss.


    "Rush through it, Jax!" Clark shouted. "A little bit of prickling can''t get you down!"


    The two played a game of high-stakes tag. Jeanne desperately tried to avoid being run over while the tauros seemed to know no other moves than what he could learn naturally. That didn''t speak well of him or his trainer. If I had to guess, he was a bull used to hard labor, pulling carts and plows and the like, but unused to actual combat. Jeanne ought to have far more experience, especially considering her daily spars with Artoria.


    "Watch and wait," I urged her. "Keep running with Agility and poke him down with Thunder Wave."


    Sure enough, Jax the tauros was slowing. He just didn''t have the agility to match her and constantly forcing him to sprint and swerve on a dime was taking its toll.


    I spotted my chance. "Jeanne! Jump on his back!"


    "Jax, you gotta stop her!"


    Clark''s shouting didn''t help. The bull was flagging. Jeanne bleated out her battle cry before she captured one of his three tails in her paws and hurled herself onto his back in a show of deceptively capable athleticism.


    "It''s over! Jeanne, let him have it! Shock Wave! All out!"


    "FlaaFFFYYYY!"


    It was like a flashbang went off in the barn. All the resentment and agitation of being hounded by a bull that outmassed her ten times over were poured out in one, massive discharge. It was so bright that I could hear the hoothoot and noctowl grumbling their protests.


    When the light settled, the tough bastard was still standing but clearly woozy. I decided to put him out of his misery.


    "Jeanne, one more. Agility into Electro Ball."


    She took to the air as a ball of golden light condensed itself between her paws. Then, with a grin of pure, vindictive glee that stood out on a normally gentle flaaffy, she slammed the damn thing straight down onto the bull''s skull.


    The judges called the match after a moment. "Tauros is unable to battle. Flaaffy is the victor and will go onto the final round."


    I bowed and walked out onto the stage to retrieve my lamb. The linoone and torchic gave us a wide berth, though I couldn''t imagine why. Jeanne was an adorable ball of sunshine, so long as you didn''t trigger her prey instincts.


    I then watched the linoone and Ember the torchic duke it out to determine who would join Jeanne in the finals. I reached into my pocket and gave Jeanne a plant jerky. "Only one," I told her. "Don''t want you to fight when you''re full."


    "Flaaf," she bleated happily and licked my fingers.


    I rolled my eyes and wiped bits of cud that got smeared between my fingers on a spare handkerchief I had for the purpose. I loved her to death but her oral fixation was really kinda gross.


    Up on stage, Ember used a mix of Fire Spin and Feather Dance to keep his much stronger opponent at bay while wearing him down with his namesake move. The linoone tried its best to compete using Pin Missile but the bug type move burned to ashes in the breeze against the Fire Spin.


    I shook my head. The trainer, Jim? James? Whatever his name was, I felt that he was being far too cautious. As an evolved pokemon, that linoone ought to have the durability needed to rush the torchic down but he got sucked into Onale''s pace instead. There were strong unevolved pokemon of course, but at this stage in our journeys, Ember out-muscling a linoone just wasn''t likely.


    "Watch the torchic," I told Jeanne. I''d already made up my mind that we''d be facing Onale and Ember. "I don''t think you''re fast enough to catch the torchic even with Agility so don''t bother. The final is going to be a ranged slugfest."


    "Flaaf," Jeanne nuzzled her cheek into my hand and I obliged her with scritches beneath her chin.


    "Wool doesn''t burn. Use Cotton Spore to shield yourself if you have to. It''s less costly than Protect."


    "Flaaf."


    I smiled as I saw Jeanne''s eyes narrow. She was as intent on studying her opponent as I was. She wasn''t a natural battler, not like Artoria or Durvasa, but she''d certainly picked up a few things through osmosis.


    In truth, I was worried. Or perhaps not worried, but cautious. I strongly suspected her of being one of Birch''s saplings and that promised a challenge on its own.


    The "starters" of any region were pokemon with great prestige attached to them. They had a certain mystique about them, expectations for power that did not exist for other, "normal" pokemon. That reputation was partly deserved, but also partly a social construct.


    Only the best students who scored well in both the academic and practical portions of the TLE were considered for a sponsorship. And of course, the regional professor accepted only the best specimens each year from the breeders. It was no wonder then that such pairs tended to go far in this career path.


    Of course, the three starters were rare and powerful, they had to be in order to be worthy prizes for students to aim toward, but the truth was that they were bred more for personality compatibility and general agreeableness than raw strength. In this world, that foundation for friendship and camaraderie was probably more valuable in the long run anyway.


    The battle ultimately ended as I''d predicted. The linoone fell to a thousand cuts, unable to land more than a few glancing blows against the torchic. Ember was breathing hard from exertion but I didn''t think he''d be too worn out after the intermission. As the mayor announced a half hour''s reprieve, the redhead''s eyes met mine across the stage. There was conviction there, a fire that hungered for this win.


    "Yup. Definitely not just a bard," I mused. Unevolved pokemon or not, Onale and Ember were going to be trouble.


    Author''s Note


    A pride is to lions as lounge is to lizards.


    Animal fact? Sure. Rabbits should not be picked up by their necks like kittens or puppies. They lack the stretchy skin that makes this comfortable. Their own weight can cause microscopic tearing or even damage their spines.


    Thank you for reading. To reach a wider audience, and because I enjoy a more forum-like setup to facilitate discussion, I like to crosspost to a wide variety of websites. You can find them all on my Link Tree: https://linktr.ee/fabled.webs.</a>

 3.9 Soup

    Soup 3.9


    Aaron Fulan


    Oldale Town, Hoenn Region


    Onale and I stared each other down from across the field. The break was mostly for her torchic to catch his breath and they were fully recovered now. Given what I''d seen of the pair so far, her bard schtick was a load of horseshit; they were easily among the most talented pair I''d seen to date.


    There was also Sabine, Sparky as she wanted to be called, and Lucky the elekid back in Mauville. And Lisia and Ali of course. Was I destined to meet powerful women?


    My semifinal match against Clark and Jax the tauros had ended up being largely unscored because the tauros only knew Horn Attack, Stomp, and the like. There just weren''t many ways to use those moves in an aesthetically pleasing way. Not so this time. Both Jeanne and Ember were better trained and the judges were paying more attention.


    I felt a small pang of hunger, the sun was starting to set and it was almost suppertime, but I pushed it aside to focus on the battle.


    The mayor cleared his throat for attention. "Now that we''re all fed and watered, let''s close out the night with one last battle. Coordinators, are you ready? Good. Then begin!"


    "Ember, barrage! Don''t let up!" Onale yelled out, eager to get the first points in.


    "Tor-CHIC!" he trilled, spouting an impressive number of attacks. Each fireball was the size of a soccer ball.


    "Cotton Guard," I ordered.


    "Flaaf," Jeanne said, her usual enthusiasm replaced by focused calm.


    I watched calmly as she shook her head. Her wool glowed like a radiant halo before "spores" erupted from her collar and head. It wasn''t true Cotton Guard, we hadn''t practiced its use defensively much, but it was enough for our purposes here.


    Each fireball met an equivalent ball of wool. The wave of woolen balls was pushed back, but not without detonating every fireball preemptively.


    Wool was flame-resistant. Instead of igniting, it filled the air with the acrid smell of burning hair as it shrank down into black, fibrous carbon. That she managed even this much was noteworthy. Flaaffy wool, by evolutionary design, stored electricity without burning, and in turn was even more flame-resistant than normal wool.


    The result was the same: Not one Ember reached Jeanne.


    We''d planned for this. Onale and Ember were a formidable pair but their repertoire seemed to revolve around Ember''s namesake move, whether that was modifying it for the appeals round with Feather Dance or forcing a hit and run battle against the linoone in the semifinals. It was possible for her to have some tricks up her sleeves of course, but I felt as ready as I could be.


    "Now, set the stage. Return fire."


    "Flaaffy!"


    Jeanne stomped the ground and the earth bloomed gold as electricity erupted from her foot. A circle thirty feet across spread out with her at the center. Sparks danced over the packed dirt; it looked as though there was a spotlight trained on Jeanne and the crowd oohed and aahed appropriately.


    She then cracked her tail like a whip, sending Shock Waves through the air in the form of half a dozen bolts of lightning. Ember shuffled out of the way but the bolts were locked onto his electromagnetic signature and corrected course.


    Onale saw this and reacted immediately, her strange, not-Irish accent cutting through the air. "Ember! Ya can''t dodge that! Send it skyward with Fire Spin!"


    "Torchic!"


    He dug his clawed feet into the dirt and spread his wings outward. A column of orange flames erupted around him, hot enough to warm my face from across the battlefield. Jeanne''s Shock Waves struck the fiery tornado and fizzled out. The flames faded and Ember shaped the straying sparks into feathers as he took a bow.


    I probably lost points for that but I wasn''t about to let her walk all over me. The defensive use of Fire Spin was impressive but it had some major flaws I could exploit. "Rapid fire. Make him dance."


    Jeanne punched the ground, drawing deeply from the ionized terrain. Arcs of golden lightning climbed her arm and danced along her collar, lighting up her wool like a Christmas ornament. Electricity danced through her body until a sheathe of golden light flowed from her head to her tail and her bulb shone so bright that several spectators were forced to turn away.


    With a final cry, she swung her tail like a mace. A salvo of electric bolts, all locked onto the torchic, fired from her bulb with the crackle of superheated air.


    Then she did it again. And again. And again.


    Jeanne was no longer the little mareep who struggled to pump out a single decent Electric Terrain. She''d come into her own and proved it by filling the air with sparkling missiles that homed in on her target like a swarm of hornets. She''d gotten good enough at launching these weak but swift attacks that even Artoria had trouble parrying them all. Boosted by Electric Terrain, she practically filled the field in a yellow haze.


    "Block it! Fire Spin!" Onale cried desperately.


    The column of fire went up. And this time, he was forced to hold the move as Jeanne''s river of Shock Waves collided against the flame. Either he''d tire and collapse or he''d run out of air as his own attack burned up all surrounding oxygen and he''d be forced to drop the move. One way or another, I was confident we''d win a contest of endurance. In the back of my mind, I could feel Artoria picking out my thoughts so she could explain them to Durvasa.


    I was brought back to the match by the sputtering flames. Sure enough, Ember had just enough time to catch his breath before his eyes widened comically.


    "Torchic!" he cried in pain as one final salvo sent him flying across the field. Whatever points he''d won for his use of Fire Spin now went Jeanne''s way for exploiting its weakness so quickly.


    Jeanne moved to swing one last time but I let out a sharp whistle. "Hold fire."


    It was courtesy to give opponents time to collect themselves in a contest battle. Part of it was the emphasis on sportsmanlike behavior. A bigger part was that it was hard to judge the appeal of a pokemon''s moves when aimed at an already downed target. It wasn''t as though Jeanne was idle anyway; she''d been taught to Charge with every lull in battle. I could see her bulb glow dully as she collected herself even now.


    "Ember, are you okay?" Onale called. She sent a hard look our way but nodded curtly. "I would like to withd-"


    "Torchic!" Ember roared, though it came out more a shrill chirp than anything. He stood on shaky feet. Every breath released a small cluster of sparks into the air. Dirt covered hsi plumage in splotches of brown. Despite his clear exhaustion, there wasn''t a shred of surrender in his eyes. "Tor-CHIC!"


    With a final shout, the white light of evolution shrouded him from view.


    "And that," I muttered dryly to Jeanne, "is why we Charge."


    "Flaaf," she bleated back, resigned to a much harsher battle to come.


    "Agility. Stack it. Combusken are fast, with a good mix of physical and ranged options. Expect a game of tag."


    The white light faded and Ember stood tall, the second wind brought on by his evolution buoying his spirits. He was an impressive specimen, standing several inches north of three feet with thick, powerful thighs and wings tipped with wicked-sharp claws. The vibrant yellow crest on his head had turned orange and tongues of flame licked up his plumage like ribbons of confetti as if celebrating his breakthrough.


    Onale''s look of shock morphed into a confident grin. "Ember! You evolved!"


    "Combus!"


    "Good. Now let''s get some payback." She looked at me with fire in her eyes. "You ready for round two?"


    I could tell by the look on her face; this wasn''t about the ribbon anymore. No matter how we liked to dress it up, pokemon were combative creatures. They needed challenges to reach their full potential. The best of them thrived when ground against a rival like iron sharpening iron. Artoria had a taste of that in Mauville with Lucky the elekid. It seemed Jeanne had found hers as well.


    I nodded amiably, acknowledgement of what was happening, a connection formed between two pokemon. "Ladies first."


    "Ember, barra-!"


    "Flaaffy!" She couldn''t get out the command before Jeanne launched her own barrage, forcing the combusken to do his best impression of a tap dancer.


    "So much for ladies first."


    "Jeanne''s a lady. Are you the one fighting or is he?"


    "Ugh, you''re one of those. No one likes a wiseass," she huffed. Then her head was back in the game. "Close with Quick Attack. Then Double Kick!"


    "Slow him down with Cotton Spore!"


    Ember was too fast. It wasn''t teleportation, but Jeanne wasn''t prepared for the massive speed boost the young fowl got through his evolution. He dodged and weaved through the hail of woolen spores before launching two sharp kicks towards her head, first in a snap kick and then a textbook roundhouse by using his own pre-extended foot as leverage.


    "Flaaf!" she cried in alarm. She ducked out of the way of the snap kick but was caught by the followup roundhouse. It sent her reeling two steps back.


    As the combusken stepped in to press his advantage, I shouted, "Thunder Wave!"


    Jeanne''s pained cry turned into one of malicious glee. Her collar sparked and her bulb glowed a radiant gold before a burst of electricity erupted towards Ember.


    The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    He was too close, far too committed to his offense to even attempt to dodge. His muscles seized and Jeanne took the opportunity to deck the bird on his beak before squaring her feet and whipping her bulb into his face like a flail. The impromptu uppercut made him stagger but caused little actual damage.


    "Now make some distance. Cotton Spore!"


    "No! Burn it up with Fire Spin!"


    Jeanne spat out a dozen spores but they were consumed immediately in a tornado of fire. That gave her the opening to run away. She hopped back, covering more than twelve feet with a single leap.


    "Agility again. Then Electro Ball."


    "We can play that game. Quick Attack and Dobule Kick!"


    Playing a game of tag against a combusken wasn''t exactly good odds, but it was the best option we had. Staying still like she''d done when Ember was a torchic would have seen her blitzed and overwhelmed in short order. At least now, she was holding her own.


    She launched an orb of condensed plasma that the combusken kicked into the ground. It detonated in a shower of sparks and left behind a sizable divot. He then launched himself into the air and brought his foot down in a powerful heel drop that had Jeanne diving out of the way.


    She let out a yelp of pain as one of his talons clipped her arm.


    Even as she rolled away, the violet light of Agility surrounding her body became denser. She hopped to her feet with a vicious glare, starting off another physical trade.


    Jeanne bobbed and weaved out of a series of rapid kicks and scratches but she was no fighting type no matter her spirit. She just couldn''t compete with Ember''s natural instincts and wasn''t able to use Thunder Wave in time before taking a harsh knee to the gut.


    "Feee," she grunted as she was sent sliding back. Her body sparked and she gave him a nasty return jolt that allowed her to make some distance again.


    "Push through the pain! Press the attack!" Onale yelled. For someone who introduced herself as a bard, the girl was vicious. "Flame Charge!"


    Ember let out a valiant cry. His entire body erupted into flames in a manner that was similar but not quite like Fire Spin. Unlike his earlier moves, this fire was far more condensed and coated his plumage like a suit of armor. He poured everything he had into obeying his trainer and launched himself like a phoenix towards Jeanne faster than he''d ever moved before.


    I frowned. That wasn''t something I expected. Did he learn it upon evolution like Double Kick? Or maybe she''d simply never seen fit to order the move in her other rounds?


    No matter. The move was far too fast for Jeanne to evade, no point in trying. Instead, I went for the counter option. "Protect into Electro Ball!"


    I took a great deal of satisfaction in watching Onale''s eyes widen in surprise as Jeanne planted her feet and held out her hands like a sumo wrestler bracing for impact. Her forehead rammed straight towards the combusken as a green barrier formed between them.


    The two collided with a deafening crash. I doubted anyone was paying attention to the scorecards held out by the judges anymore. No, the victor would be decided the old fashioned way.


    When the smoke cleared, we found Jeanne and Ember clashing against each other, his burning knee grinding away at her shield. Just beneath, keener eyes could have spotted a small mote of light sparking to life between her paws.


    Seconds stretched into eternity as the two pokemon pushed themselves to their utmost but the climactic clash couldn''t last. Ember soon ran out of momentum and touched down on one leg so he could spin his heel into the Protect.


    That moment he began to pivot was the moment of attack. Jeanne''s Protect cracked and shattered into fragments of hardened aura as she released the move. Then, with a bleating battle cry, she stomped forward half a step and decked Ember across the beak with a newly formed Electro Ball.


    "FLAAFFY!" she roared, the palm-sized orb of energy sparking with deceptive power. She''d poured everything she had into that attack, her Charge, the Electric Terrain, so that even from a standing start, it struck like a missile.


    A sound like a thunderclap reverberated across the hall. So close to me, it had a physical wave to it and I rocked on my toes with the flow before to right myself.


    "Ember, no!" Onale yelled as her partner soared through the air. He was out like a light before he hit the ground and she ran into the field to hold him.


    Jeanne for her part stood, panting and bruised, but with her horns, paws, and bulb sparking. She looked out upon her defeated opponent, at the crowd that was still too stunned to comment, and at the judges. She must have remembered what I told her in Verdanturf because she then sank into a flourishing bow towards the judges'' table. Or she tried, before exhaustion caught up with her and she fell on her snout.


    "Flaaf!" she yelped, her butt wiggling in the air. She played it off and rolled forward until she was seated on her haunches. With arms raised towards the setting sun and horns and tail glowing triumphantly, she cheered. "Flaaffy-flaaf!"


    I shook my head with a fond smile. Would it have been cooler if she just stood there stoically? Absolutely. But it wouldn''t have been Jeanne if she didn''t spazz out like this. "Yeah, praise the sun, you crazy lamb chop."


    X


    Compared to the final battle, the ceremony was a forgettable affair. Jeanne and I stood while the mayor placed the contest ribbon on her head like a hairclip, but she was too tuckered out to fully appreciate her moment in the sun. I gathered Artoria and Durvasa before ordering a huge platter of food from Mirabelle''s to celebrate in our room. Victory wings, waffles, and a mound of literally every berry the restaurant had on offer was the order of the evening. The nurse at the pokemon center had given her a clean bill of health by the time I returned with our feast.


    "Jeanne, come here," I ushered. She plodded to my side, mouth full of strawberries and the freshest alfalfa I could find. I held out my pokenav. "Let''s get a picture of you so I can post it on the group chat."


    "Flaaf," she bleated, visibly preening as she adjusted her ribbon. She''d refused to remove the thing even for the nurse.


    I tugged her to my side and snapped off a quick picture. I was hardly an expert but that was irrelevant; Jeanne looked adorable no matter the lighting.


    Sir_Aaron: Yo, guess what I got? {IMG}


    Mossdeep_Moon: What? You won? CONGRATULATIONS!


    Sir_Aaron: Jeanne won. It was pretty epic. Our opponent, a torchic, evolved mid-battle in the finals. Had a dramatic "I''m the protagonist and this is the fiery passion of my soul," moment and everything. He was pretty strong.


    Mossdeep_Moon: Why can''t I find the video? Boo! It''s not up yet!


    Mossdeep_Sun: What are you complaining about, sis?


    Mossdeep_Moon: Scroll up, you dolt.


    Mossdeep_Sun: Oh. Boo! No video.


    Sir_Aaron: Chill. The video will go up in a day or two.


    Mossdeep_Sun: Not fast enough. You should give your mega stone to mom. You know, for safekeeping.


    Mossdeep_Moon: Yeah. We can''t scry you anymore.


    Sir_Aaron: Too bad. My stone. Besides, Artoria would throw a fit if I gave it away, even temporarily.


    Mossdeep_Moon: But¡­ but¡­ we want to see your journey¡­ Don''t you love us? {IMG}


    Sir_Aaron: You know the puppy eyes thing doesn''t work on me, right?


    Mossdeep_Sun: {IMG}


    Sir_Aaron: Still no. Seriously, love you? I''m planning on giving one of you away to Lisia, remember?


    XO-CloudDancer-OX: Aaron! That''s an awful thing to say about your siblings!


    Mossdeep_Sun: Yeah, bro, that''s mean.


    Mossdeep_Moon: Hehehe, Aaron''s getting scolded.


    Sir_Aaron: You''re the one who made the deal with me.


    XO-CloudDancer-OX: I agreed to adopt them both. They''re clearly a pair. You can''t just split them up like that.


    Mossdeep_Moon: Ehh, I can do without Tate once in a while.


    Mossdeep_Sun: Take Liza, she''s a bully.


    Mossdeep_Moon: Am not!


    Mossdeep_Sun: Are too.


    Mossdeep_Moon: Am not.


    Mossdeep_Sun: Are too. You poured egg whites into my shoes!


    Mossdeep_Moon: Heh, oh yeah. But that was like a week ago.


    Mossdeep_Sun: That was yesterday!


    XO-CloudDancer-OX: What is going on?


    Sir_Aaron: They have an ongoing contest(?) prank war where Liza tries to get one over on her brother and Tate tries to use his divination to evade it. If he can figure out her plots before she completes them, she does his chores for her. Mom made this arrangement so they could train their powers even when playing¡­ or maybe she just got sick of punishing Liza. I''m not sure honestly¡­


    XO-CloudDancer-OX: That''s¡­ unique¡­


    Sir_Aarron: You''re a gem, Lisia. That''s the nicest way anyone''s described mom''s parenting skills.


    XO-CloudDancer-OX: Anyway, congratulations! Jeanne''s ribbon is super pretty.


    Sir_Aaron: Thanks. Jeanne says thanks too. Expect her to lick you when we meet again.


    XO-CloudDancer-OX: Aww, I don''t mind that.


    Sir_Aaron: Don''t say I didn''t warn you.


    XO-CloudDancer-OX: Flaaffy don''t slobber anyway¡­ I think¡­


    Sir_Aaron: Do you know what cud is?


    XO-CloudDancer-OX: No?


    Sir_Aaron: No one tell her. It''ll be funnier when it happens.


    Mossdeep_Sun: You''re mean, bro.


    Mossdeep_Moon: ^^^ How can you do that to your best buddy?


    Sir_Aaron: We met once. It''s kind of a stretch to say we''re BFFs.


    Mossdeep_Moon: She''s the only other person on this chat except family. She qualifies by default.


    Mosddeep_Sun: Yeah, it''s not like you have other friends.


    Sir_Aaron: ¡­


    XO-CloudDancer-OX: Oof, I felt that from here in Fortree. Are you okay, Aaron?


    Sir_Aaron: Don''t pity me¡­


    Mossdeep_Sun: lol That sounded way worse than I meant, sorry, bro.


    Mosddeep_Moon: Hahahahahahaha.


    Sir_Aaron: Change of topic. Jeanne and I have our first ribbon. Done. Lisia, what''ve you been up to?


    XO-CloudDancer-OX: Oh! I''m still in Fortree. Got here for the Feather Carnival, remember? I learned so much from Winona! Like, did you know that swablu need very special grooming methods for their feathers? They don''t have normal flight feathers like taillow or other bird pokemon. I mean, I already knew that but Winona taught me how to really make Ali''s feathers shine. Every time I think about moving on, I remember all the things Ali and I need to practice.


    Sir_Aaron: Glad you''re having fun.


    XO-CloudDancer-OX: Mhmm. I won the Feather Carnival contest, though it''s not official or anything and I didn''t get a ribbon out of it.


    Mossdeep_Sun: That''s the one that''s only for flying types, right?


    XO-CloudDancer-OX: Yup! I won the rookie division. It was loads of fun. Someone even had a corvisquire from all the way in Paldea!


    Mossdeep_Moon: What''s that?


    Sir_Aaron: Flying type. Kinda looks like a crow or raven. Think of a murkrow, but not bratty. Evolved form gets a steel type.


    XO-CloudDancer-OX: Yeah, what he said. Except the bratty part. Murkrow are cool! They have personality.


    Mossdeep_Moon: Ooh, that sounds really cool.


    XO-CloudDancer-OX: It was. I''m thinking about catching a plane to Fallarbor Town for their contest in a week. I want to leave the big cities for when I can participate in super-rank contests.


    Mossdeep_Sun: You can catch planes to Fallarbor?


    XO-CloudDancer-OX: Kind of? There are small charter flights you can take.


    Mossdeep_Sun: Oh, that makes sense.[/I]


    The four of us chatted for a while longer even as Jeanne snuggled into my side. After saying goodbye, I turned to Durvasa. "So, what''d you think of your first contest?"


    "Mankey. Mankey-man."


    ''Durvasa says Jeanne should have struck down the torchic before he could evolve,'' Artoria translated dutifully. ''It was well fought, but some of those techniques seemed frivolous.''


    "Haha, yeah, that''s kind of the point though. A battle between trained pokemon is unlike a battle in the wilds, Durvasa. Most of the time, the goal isn''t to kill, but to prove your strength. And a contest battle is very different from even a normal battle. What those pokemon were doing was trying to demonstrate their mastery of their moves by using the moves of their opponents as props. The goal isn''t just to win; it''s to win with style, whether in the form of aesthetic appeal or finesse. That, and it''s considered good sportsmanship to let your opponent withdraw."


    "Mankey?" He looked puzzled at the notion. Durvasa was a clever pokemon. He was likely used to using every advantage, even underhanded ones, to keep himself fed. It must have been strange to watch someone intentionally let an opponent catch his breath.


    I reached out and tousled his fur. I''d have to be careful to make sure he wasn''t too brutal. "Yeah, even if they evolve and get stronger from it. At the end of the day, the goal of a contest is to better yourself and others while showing the audience how wonderful pokemon can be, or that''s what Lisia would say anyway. Besides, the fact that the torchic managed to evolve proves that it was a good battle, no? Jeanne was able to fight a much more worthy opponent because she was willing to be sportsmanlike."


    "Mankey¡­"


    The four of us gorged ourselves on fresh, farmhouse fare as we talked late into the night. Jeanne got her ribbon, made a rival, and possibly learned a new appreciation for physical exercise. Today was a good day.


    Author''s Note


    Yay, first ribbon. I already made Artoria evolve mid-battle against Wattson so it''s only fair someone else pulls this shonen bullshit on Aaron too.


    Ah, and have your animal fact: Whales are explosive.


    If you see a whale carcass on the beach, do not approach. The gut bacteria in a whale''s digestive tract can multiply exponentially after the whale''s death. They create methane gas as a byproduct. If the exterior of a whale, mainly its blubber, is undisturbed, it can act like a balloon that keeps the gas in until either the carcass deteriorates or too much pressure builds up and¡­ boom.


    It sounds funny, but shit can legitimately be dangerous in the same way taking a pickaxe to an overinflated tire can be dangerous.


    Thank you for reading. To reach a wider audience, and because I enjoy a more forum-like setup to facilitate discussion, I like to crosspost to a wide variety of websites. You can find them all on my Link Tree: https://linktr.ee/fabled.webs.</a>

 3.10 Soup

    Soup 3.10


    Aaron Fulan


    Oldale Town, Hoenn Region


    We jumped at the chance to tour the Oldale Ruins. Not just because Artoria and Durvasa were looking forward to exploring the cave system, but because Onale was a very persistent girl.


    I hadn''t quite realized just how grating a shonen protagonist could be until I''d met her. And yes, despite that medieval tavern bard theme she had going on, she absolutely was a shonen protagonist. The moment the mayor placed the ribbon between Jeanne''s horns and dismissed us, she yanked me back by the collar and demanded I give her my number. Not in a romantic way either, she swore to "use this defeat to ignite the blazing passion in our hearts!"


    She then ran off so her combusken could go punch a palm tree¡­ I didn''t even know there were palm trees near Oldale¡­


    It was honestly a little unnerving seeing someone that enthusiastic in real life. It was like she embodied every stereotype about hotheaded gingers and fire type trainers, rolled them together in one Frankenstein joint, and kicked it up to eleven with a sprinkling of crack for spice.


    ''I feel that you are being particularly uncharitable towards her, my lord,'' Artoria''s voice rang like a pure bell in my mind.


    ''She told us about her tragic backstory within ten seconds of actually meeting her, gave me her dead father''s bandana so she could "win it back" after she proved herself, and was considering going after badges too just so she could be my "one true rival in all things pokemon,"'' I deadpanned.


    ''Okay, so she was a bit¡­ much¡­ but are we not also shonen protagonists? We too train diligently and believe in the power of friendship.''


    ''We don''t go around declaring eternal rivalries with everyone we meet.''


    ''True, but only because my rivals are on my team. And, you do constantly say Jeanne and I eat more than we should. Was that also not a trope?''


    ''Look at you being self-aware.'' I snorted in amusement as the four of us waited in the atrium alongside a gaggle of other tourists and students on field trips. The atrium was rimmed on all sides with stalactites and stalagmites, some of them sporting little lamps to see by. The cave system had already been thoroughly explored almost a century ago and now served as a tourist trap that also educated people on geology and pokemon ecology.


    Jeanne ambled over to a particularly shiny bit of limestone, possibly with some quartz mixed in, and gave it a long lick. Then to everyone''s surprise, she let out a delighted little bleat and gave it another lick, and then another. Meanwhile, Durvasa was eyeing a large stalagmite with murderous eyes.


    I sighed. "Durvasa, come here. You can''t punch any of the stalagmites."


    "Man-mankey," he protested, miming a textbook karate chop.


    "Yes, I know you want to practice, but limestone isn''t very hard to break anyway," I said, stroking his ego. In the short time I''d known him, I''d found it to be one of the best ways to deny him something while avoiding a tantrum. "These flimsy things can''t stand up to a fighting type so don''t bother."


    "Man¡­" he groaned, sizing up the stone pillar with new light.


    He could break a smaller one with ease, maybe even one as thick as my torso. I didn''t want the organizers getting on my case though. Pokemon up to human-size were permitted, provided they behaved, and "not damaging the terrain" was most definitely included.


    "Hey, man, what''s your flaaffy doing? Is it stupid?" one of the students on tour, a boy of about nine, asked me.


    "She, is probably smarter than you," I said, eyes rolling. Jeanne''s behavior looked strange to most but wasn''t actually uncommon among herbivores. The lovely nurse in Verdanturf who taught me about chewing cud also told me to expect behavior like this. "She''s licking the rock to get salt and other naturally occurring minerals that she doesn''t get enough of in her plant-based diet. Did you know you could do that?"


    "Well, no-"


    "Then I guess my flaaffy is smarter than you, eh?"


    "Yeah, well, flaaffy are lame and you''re girly for owning one," he huffed back.


    I stooped down and held out my hand. Sure enough, I felt Artoria''s tummy collide with my palm half a second later. She''d been mid-leap, spoon brandished and ready to club the little shit. "Yeah? Guess I''m girly then," I replied with a carefree shrug, one eye on my kirlia.


    ''He deserves it,'' she said with a pout. ''He mocked both you and my sister. A good wallop to teach him manners would be doing him a favor.''


    ''What did I say about fighting idiots?''


    ''That I can''t fight every idiot in the world, or I''d never be through.''


    ''Good. Now what does it say that my kirlia has a shorter temper than Durvasa?''


    ''That I am loyal and have no patience for fools?''


    I let out a snort as I walked over to my other two pokemon. ''Self-awareness, thy name is Artoria¡­''


    ''Know thyself and know thy enemy. You need not fear the outcome of a thousand battles.''


    ''Are you quoting bastardized Sun Tzu at me?''


    ''Your old world had many wise sages, my lord. Perhaps we should write their teachings down for Durvasa?''


    ''I don''t know The Art of War by memory.''


    ''But surely enough of the teachings of sages and great generals remain to write a compilation? You were a swordsman even then and your world did not lack warrior-poets.''


    ''True enough. I''ll think about it. But that''d mean teaching him to read.''


    ''Hmm¡­ perhaps literature and calligraphy can be used to enhance his focus?''


    ''Maybe. It''s something to consider.''


    I wrangled my team and told Durvasa to exercise his mind by learning from the scholar who''d show us around. Surely, the path to sagehood involved more than just breaking rocks against your fists.


    Before long, our tour guide stepped into the atrium. He was a somewhat plain man, neither handsome nor ugly, who dressed in sturdy cargo pants and a tan vest filled with pockets containing who knew what. He also had a hardhat with a flashlight strapped to his forehead¡­ for some reason¡­ Maybe he thought it''d fit in with the aesthetics?


    "Hello everyone, my name is Professor Alden Umezu and I will be your guide through the Oldale Ruins. Over there behind you are my assistants, Sam and Mike," he said, pointing to two older boys I hadn''t paid attention to. Sam looked to be in his early twenties, a typical college student. At his feet was a marowak that, instead of a single large club, carried two bones that it spun like a pair of batons.


    Mike was noticeably younger, maybe two or three years my senior. It was a strange quirk of this world that pokemon professors often chose apprentices by personal preference regardless of age, much like master craftsmen did during medieval times. A large golbat rested on his shoulders, drawing several admiring eyes from students.


    "Before we dive in, there are some ground rules we need to go over. First, take only memories, leave only footprints. Second, do not feed wild pokemon. Third, do not leave the path we''ve marked out. This is for your safety as well as the sanctity of the natural wonder beneath our feet. Fourth, and most important, do not battle." I could''ve sworn he sideyed my mankey at that. For his part, Durvasa looked mildly sheepish at being singled out, though nowhere near enough to be repentant. "Cave systems are delicate at the best of times and while we allow smaller pokemon, if we feel that they are too excitable, we will ask you to ball them. Any questions?"


    "No, professor," the chamber echoed.


    "Good, then let''s be off." We began walking down a long tunnel that gently sloped into the earth. The pathway remained paved with bricks but the walls quickly gave way to natural stone worn smooth by millions of years of erosion. As we walked, the professor began to narrate. "The Oldale Ruins are called that because they contain the remnants of at least one ancient civilization of humans, but it''s a bit of a misnomer in my opinion. In reality, the civilization ruins occupy a very small section of these caverns, with most of the rest being claimed by pokemon of one stripe or another.


    "The caves themselves are primarily limestone structures, which means they are formed from calcium carbonate, the same material that comprises many shells of pokemon and animals. Clamperl, cloyster, and your everyday oyster shells are all made of this stuff. Can you imagine? This right here is proof that at one point, all of Oldale used to be beneath the sea!" he said, spreading his arms wide.


    I was no great scholar, but it was refreshing to hear from someone who was so genuinely passionate about his subject. At my feet, my pokemon looked around them with looks of wonder as giant stalactites and stalagmites that dwarfed grown men came into view. They were worn smooth, so smooth that they glistened in the light of the torches.


    ''My lord, does that mean we are walking through a mass grave of made up of water pokemon?'' Artoria asked, a little disconcerted by the notion.


    "Professor," I called. "My kirlia would like to know if that means we''re walking through a graveyard. Are ghost pokemon more common here?"


    He coughed awkwardly. "Ah, not necessarily. Limestone can form when calcite or aragonite precipitate out of water. It doesn''t have to be derived from biological sources. However, we have found several fossils of shellfish in these caverns."


    ''There you go, Artoria, anything else you want to ask?''


    ''No, my lord. It is fascinating to imagine a world that old.''


    As we walked, we passed by several unique rock formations. One looked like a rippling waterfall, polished into such a fine shimmer that looking at it from different angles created the illusion of rippling waves. Another was called the "Three Sisters" because the water pooled and carved away at a mound of limestone until it split into three peaks, each more than twice as tall as a person and shaped like three onix wrestling. They looked cool, but there was no sign of human habitation. Hell, even the zubat colonies seemed to leave this section of the cavern alone, likely bothered by the bright torches interspersed along the walls.


    Then, as if slowly going back in time with every descent, we started to see the things ancient civilizations left behind. At first, it was a single rust-red spoon embedded into a wall, one that had been made from a carved crawdaunt shell according to the professor. Water had once pooled there, leaving limestone deposits behind when it evaporated until it trapped the utensil completely.


    Then we saw the statues.


    "There are a lot of water pokemon," one of the teachers who''d been wrangling the gaggle of children called. "Did the civilization worship water pokemon? Or maybe the sea?"


    "Perhaps? Or perhaps not? It''s still just one piece of the puzzle I''m afraid. Truth be told, we know very little about the ones who made these statues." Professor Alden smiled wryly. He gestured to the figures of various pokemon. There were corphish, crawdaunt, feebas, and milotic in various poses, some graceful and others menacing. A particularly detailed tentacruel reached out towards us as if to sting. "In fact, we don''t even know their names. Though these statues are remarkably well-preserved, the truth is that they weren''t all neatly arrayed into a single corridor. Many were moved here for exhibition purposes before my time."


    "That seems unfortunate. What if their placements meant something?" I couldn''t help but ask.


    "Oh, I agree. In fact, we''re headed to one of the few places that remain wholly undisturbed. My assistants and I found a tablet a year back which described a room that could link the past and present."


    That sounded familiar. Perhaps it was a room full of fossil pokemon? I remembered Grandpa Canyon in Kanto where a cave system filled with kabuto, omanyte, and even an aerodactyl could be found. Were we about to enter Hoenn''s equivalent?


    That got the children interested.


    "What was in it?"


    "Was it a cool pokemon?


    "Did you even find the room?


    The professor coughed to silence them. "Yes, as I said, that''s where we''re headed. The inner chamber of the ruins contain what I like to call Mirror Lake. It has been a treasure trove of anthropological information, one that I''m eager to share with you all. Come on, it''s just this way."


    The path abruptly forked. I could tell from the mismatched brickwork that one of them had been added recently. The new path curved in and around an outcropping of rock that would likely never have been noticed by a normal traveler. It sloped steeply and narrowed so that we began to feel a little claustrophobic. Down and down we went until the stale air sat like a physical weight in our lungs and the chill turned our breath into mist.


    "Are you guys cold?" I called to my team. Jeanne and Durvasa were fine, they had fur, but I could see Artoria begin to shiver slightly.


    ''I will be fine,'' Artoria sniffed. She was like a big sister who saw her little siblings were toughing it out so felt obligated to do the same. ''I am not! I am not cold, that''s all.''


    ''You know, my jacket has big pockets. You could cuddle up in one like you used to as a ralts.''


    ''I am much too big for that, my lord.''


    ''No you''re not. You''re two feet tall.''


    ''Be that as it may, I will not suffer the indignity of being ferried about by my liegelord.''


    ''But I carry you every morning from bed.''


    ''That is that and this is this!'' she yelped. I could see her nuclear blush even in the dim lightning. Really, my Artoria was too cute.


    The corridor expanded abruptly, widening out into a room that took our breaths away. No, it wasn''t right to call it a room. What stretched out before us was a full-blown underground lake, a chamber so wide it could fit an entire city block, maybe several.


    And most of it was taken up by crystal clear water. Several torches had been hung up on the walls around the lake, bathing the chamber in soft, yellow light. The water had such a reflective shine that it was impossible to distinguish between the stalactites that dropped into the water and the stalagmites that rose from the depths.


    Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.


    Statues of countless water types were placed around the lake, pristine and unmoved even as stalagmites had begun to rise around them. The largest of these was a monstrously large relicanth carved directly out of a limestone pillar that was so thick four grown men could not clasp hands around it. The ancient pokemon''s stony jaws were opened wide, ready to bite down on some imaginary prey. Its fins, delicately shaped from limestone, almost seemed alive as they hinted at water currents we could not feel.


    Beneath the large statue was a small, circular platform that came up to my waist. A table, or more accurately, an altar. It was a little concave now as water had dripped on it for thousands of years and worn away at flattened surface. There were inscriptions that I was definitely not qualified to translate.


    "W-What is that?" a student whispered, awe in his voice.


    "A relicanth. Water and rock type pokemon who are considered the very first fishes ever," I answered for the professor. It was an interesting bit of legend, or perhaps biological factoid, that did not account for Kyogre. I''d found several bits of common knowledge like it throughout my education in this world, details that for some reason excluded the Legends. Was it an intentional bit of misdirection?


    ''Perhaps, my lord, the League considers concrete information regarding the Legends classified. The fewer humans who know about them, the fewer headstrong fools who''d go about disturbing forces they can''t hope to comprehend,'' Artoria pointed out. She wasn''t wrong; the easiest way to account for human stupidity was to make sure they couldn''t make the mistake in the first place. ''Even we would be largely ignorant without your past life. Though I am certain at least some records exist in the library, Lady Sharon had not been forthcoming on that front.''


    ''True. That''s a good point, but here''s a counterargument: If few know anything about the Legends, they''re not likely to take threats seriously when they occur. Maybe that''s why Magma and Aqua managed to acquire the support they did without being stopped? No one knew what they were up to and when rumors circulated, most dismissed them as nutjobs, not knowing that there is truth to the myths.''


    ''That¡­ sounds like a worrying possibility¡­ But is it not the League''s job to monitor such groups?''


    ''The League can''t be everywhere. If the average person stumbles on a rumor that Aqua is going to poke Kyogre with a stick, do you think they''d report it? Or would they laugh, thinking that''s impossible in the first place.''


    ''The latter¡­ Perhaps we should tell Lady Sharon?''


    ''We should. She can keep an eye on things far better than we can.''


    ''Agreed, my lord.''


    ''But that leaves us the question of how we''re going to explain that knowledge.''


    ''Surely she can be trusted with your memories?''


    ''Maybe¡­'' I wasn''t too sure about that. She was intelligent, powerful, and well-meaning, but¡­ but she wasn''t there. Maybe I lived in some alternate universe but for whatever reason, Magma or Aqua ultimately managed to invade Mossdeep successfully.


    The two of us were brought out of our conversation by the professor. He''d been lecturing on the lifestyle of the relicanth while we''d checked out. "These remarkable pokemon are living proof that pokemon from ancient times can thrive in the modern biosphere. That''s why we in the archeological and anthropological communities call them living fossils."


    "But why here? I guess this meets the ''link between the past and present'' bit on your tablet, but why did the ancients care enough to build this huge statue?" one of the students asked. "And just how old are the ancients?"


    "Excellent questions, but ones that have no answers as of yet. Much of Hoenn''s history was lost during the Fragmentation Era and the Wars of Conquest, if they were recorded at all. Because Hoenn was comprised of many city states that vied for control, there was no singular record before the founding of the League. Even when there are two surviving records, they often contradict each other as each city state had its own culture, values, priorities, and agendas.


    "In fact, though we call them the ''Oldale Ruins'' collectively today, they''re actually a series of ruins made by multiple tribes over the span of hundreds or even thousands of years. Because they are thousands of years old and we know so little before the founding, the exact nature of these ruins is a mystery that lasts to this day."


    "That sounds like a whole lot of guesswork, professor."


    "It is, which is why scenes like this are so very precious. This Mirror Lake is a time machine in a way, a firsthand source of information untouched by the ravages of time and war. For example, and back to the original question," he gestured to the altar beneath the statue, "We know from the inscriptions that relicanth were symbols of immortality as well as endurance and perseverance. From anthropological evidence, we also know that these people lived in a time when the shore was much closer and relied heavily on fishing. They revered totems of water pokemon, of which relicanth took pride of place.


    "From that, some of my colleagues have hypothesized that the makers of these statues actually predate even the city states and perhaps escaped to the outskirts of Hoenn for one reason or another. Volcanic activity around Mount Chimney? Wild pokemon? Other tribes? Who can say for certain? All we know is that they had reason to cherish water types and hold perseverance and fortitude as valuable virtues."


    "That''s so cool! Are there any relicanth in the lake?" one child asked. The boy was about nine or ten, probably not long before he''d receive a starter of his own. He was the one who''d been eyeing Durvasa enviously even as he dismissed Jeanne and Artoria for being "girly." His childish prejudice was almost cute.


    Durvasa, for his part, had begun to carry out a series of martial arts katas in the corner. He was listening; he probably paid better attention when he was doing light exercise like this.


    ''Hmph, Durvasa is the weakest of us,'' Artoria griped.


    ''Let the kid be a kid, Artoria. He''ll learn soon enough that appearances aren''t everything.''


    ''Oh, very well, my liege.''


    "There are a handful," the professor said, dragging me from our conversation. "You likely won''t spot them however; they''re quite shy and very good at disguising themselves as rocks. The lake looks still with how crystal clear it is, but there is actually a steady flow in and out of this cavern. The water leaks down into an even bigger underground lake before filtering into the sea. Most pokemon prefer to live in that lake instead of this one."


    "Aww, that''s no fun¡­ I wanted to see some pokemon."


    "You might when we get out of here. This part of the cave sees heavy traffic by humans so most wild pokemon don''t like it here, but there are sections we''ll pass by later where we might cross paths. Can any of you tell me what species we might encounter here?"


    Hands went up as the children began to call out answers. To be truthful, even I was taken aback by the sheer biodiversity here, one more proof that this was not a video game. Rather than just a handful of pokemon like geodude and zubat, the cave was home to onix, cubone, diglett, dwebble, aron, nosepass, sandshrew, gligar, and more. And that was just the pokemon that were relatively easy to find.


    Depending on the time of day, season, or even the state of the local forest, the population varied a fair bit. Professor Alden told us about how, in times of floods or the presence of an unusually powerful predator, pokemon from the nearby forest would occasionally take shelter in the cave system. That would inevitably lead to fighting between the regular denizens and newcomers over space and easy access to food, something he and his assistants had been studying for years.


    "Humans and pokemon aren''t so different in that regard," he said as he led us back out and onto another path. The torches got progressively dimmer now, likely so the harsh light wouldn''t disturb any nearby pokemon. It also allowed our eyes to adjust to the darkness. "There are some ruins we''ll pass through in a moment that indicate that different tribes have been using these cave systems for refuge for millennia. Many of these ruins were destroyed by battles of one stripe or another, but some of the maps made by our ancestors still remain."


    We''d reached the main ruins now and they were a sight to behold. Unlike the altar of the relicanth and Mirror Lake, here, the signs of daily life were more apparent. We saw rough-hewn chairs and tables, nooks and shelves, all carved through painstaking effort or via dwebble saliva. Remnants of crustle claws were used as bowls, sometimes even a somewhat awkward knife if sharpened properly. There were signs of battle in some of these homes, broken walls, shattered pottery, and the whole area had been cordoned off so that no tourist strayed from clearly marked paths.


    Pokemon of course still lived here; some were even the direct descendants of those who''d partnered with humans. By psychic translation, one particularly old geodude claimed to know a steelix far below who''d met the leader of the humans that had originally taken refuge here thousands of years ago. Whether true or not, said steelix was "slumbering with the core," whatever that meant, and had been for nearly a century.


    "Now, we''re about ready to wrap up the tour of the caverns, but there is one last thing I want to show you," the professor said as he led us down yet another winding corridor.


    The cave walls expanded out a final time. Where the Mirror Lake sat as a fixture of tranquility in defiance of time, the chamber before us could be best described as a cathedral, organ and all. Yes, there was an actual organ, as tall as two grown men, sitting against one wall.


    Though it sat on a raised dais that had clearly been added much more recently, the actual organ looked positively ancient. Its body was made of varnished hardwood and little nicks and cracks showed its character. Three layers of piano keys made up the instrument, each expanding out in a series of wires and hinges that ended with mallets poised over one stalactite or other.


    "This, ladies and gentlemen, is the Great Stalacpipe Organ," he said with a flourishing bow. "It is the largest instrument in the world and was made a little under two centuries ago by a man named Leland Sprinkle. He was one of the first since the founding of the League to explore the caverns in depth and made an occupation of it."


    "That''s before the founding of Mauville, isn''t it?" I asked curiously. It was hard to imagine sometimes, but the League itself was less than four hundred years old. "Oldale was founded before the Hoenn League during the Fragmentation Era so what kept people from exploring the caves during all that time? Why was he the first?"


    "''One of the first,'' I said. Part of it was fear. Humans did not always have an amicable relationship with pokemon, especially during the Fragmentation Era. Hoenn didn''t have pokeballs at all until just a little over nine hundred years ago because of the geographic distance between us, Johto, and Sinnoh, or Hisui as it was known then. We still had partner pokemon, but teams of elite trainers as you know them today were very rare. Because of that, these caverns were seen as dangerous places, shelters to be used in times of strife, yes, but only when circumstances were dire. And after the League''s founding, there were many deeper concerns beyond these caverns.


    "I''d like to think that Mr. Sprinkle''s exploration here is a product of his time. As people''s relationships with pokemon changed, the League''s priorities changed with them. It began to subsidize expeditions into the unknown corners of Hoenn to seek out untapped natural resources. There was little material wealth to be found in these caves specifically, but many smaller frontier towns can trace their founding to that period in time. Mr. Sprinkle was just one of many explorers.


    "Now, back to the organ. Mr. Sprinkle had a companion, a loudred, that he was inspired by. After initial expeditions bore no fruit, he began to give tours of the caves and would often sing with his loudred, demonstrating for guests how different lengths of stalactites produced different tones when tapped. Then, in the later years of his life, he made this organ to take advantage of the unique acoustics here as a tribute to his pokemon friend who had passed the year previous."


    "D-Does the organ still work?" one of the students asked.


    "Of course, my girl. In fact, that''ll be our final gift to you. I have no musical talent to speak of, but Sam over there is quite the deft hand."


    The context of the instrument left Artoria in a somber mood. She looked around in solemn awe as one of the professor''s assistants took a seat at the organ and began to play. A haunting melody began to fill the chamber. Each note carried, picked up by the acoustics of the room to trail off in slow reverberations that set the rhythm for the next.


    The ambiance felt a lot like being in a chapel, perhaps for a funeral or a great mass to usher in the new year. It was both sad and uplifting, one man''s masterpiece born of personal tragedy that stood the test of time. By my side, even Durvasa and Jeanne, ever energetic, stilled with unusual silence.


    ''My lord?''


    ''Yes, Artoria?''


    ''I will remain by your side forevermore,'' she swore in the quiet of our own thoughts.


    ''I don''t doubt it.''


    We swayed along with the music as our minds melded together. We allowed the wordless melody to create an ebb and flow in our minds, pushing our sincerity into the other.


    "People sometimes come here for ceremonies," the professor continued, his voice soft now. He waved to the corridor we hadn''t come from. "The town likes to offer this place once in a while for marriages and the like. It''s a unique venue, and I guess there''s some appeal in that, but I can''t help but feel that this is the way it should be, quiet and solemn. The organ was Mr. Sprinkle''s last tribute to his friend, a paradoxically lasting homage to a very finite friendship. Rather than the beginning of relationships, this organ is best suited for the endings, I think. And that''s why I leave this room for last, one final song to end the tour."


    X


    Professor Alden had a way with words. His closing statement to us had left us all in a contemplative mood, though not all for the same reasons.


    Jeanne skipped along as we headed back to the pokemon center.


    "Flaaf~ Flaaffyyy~" she bleated in strange patterns that wasn''t quite rhythm.


    "Jeanne?"


    "Flaaf?"


    "Are you¡­ singing¡­?"


    "Flaaf!" She hopped, skipped and jumped into a twirl, dancing to a tune only she could hear.


    I remembered then that she''d been especially taken by Onale''s appeals round. It seemed it wasn''t just the hurdy gurdy or folk music. Melodies of all types appealed to my flaaffy, maybe in ways even she hadn''t expected. "You really like music, huh?"


    "Flaaffy! Free-flaaffy."


    ''She said she wishes to incorporate it into contests somehow, my lord,'' Artoria translated dutifully.


    "I figure something out for us, Jeanne. Maybe we can have you sing to a beat and provide your own light show?"


    ''Please don''t. While I wish to support my sister, she has little in the way of lyrical talent.''


    ''Artoria, that''s mean.''


    ''But true.''


    ''It''s not like any of the judges will understand her singing.''


    ''Tone and pitch are relatively universal as far as I am aware, my lord.''


    ''Is she really that bad?''


    ''I have heard worse, but she is a far cry from my mother.''


    ''Alice? The gardevoir who used Disarming Voice to charm a rhydon out of its stampede once? I don''t think that''s a fair comparison,'' I said wryly. ''Alice''s voice is literally magical.''


    My starter puffed out with pride for her mother. ''Mother is the ideal gardevoir. Nonetheless, I am not sure how appealing a flaaffy singing her own name would be to the judges.''


    ''You do have a point¡­''


    ''Perhaps we could have her make some sort of percussive light show with thunder and lightning?''


    That stirred something in my memories. Japanese taiko drums had of course been compared to the ringing of thunderclaps before; I''d had the fortune of hearing a few while I was in Kyoto for a kendo competition. That wasn''t all. It was just an idea, but¡­ ''Electricity as an instrument¡­''


    ''My lord?''


    ''You''re a genius, Artoria.''


    ''I live to serve,'' she replied with a happy smile.


    I picked Jeanne up by the armpits. "Jeanne, how would you like to make music with electricity?"


    "Flaaff?"


    "I don''t know the exact mechanics, but I think there was an instrument back in my old life that umm¡­ used sparks at different voltages to generate sounds?"


    "Flaaffy?" she tilted her head in confusion.


    "Sorry, girl, I''m no musician, but I promise I''ll figure it out for you, okay?"


    "Flaaf!"


    We reached the pokemon center and grabbed a late dinner from the canteen before retiring to our room. I made a few quick notes into my pokedex for later research. After divvying up our meals, I decided to speak with Durvasa.


    "Hey Durvasa, what''d you think of the caverns?"


    "Mankey," he huffed. "Mankey-mankey. Man."


    ''"Weaklings won''t let me train or hit things," he said.''


    "Yeah, the cave is a protected heritage site. We can''t just break things willy-nilly. Was there anything about the caves you liked?"


    "Man." He hopped onto the table and spread his arms wide. I almost snorted in laughter; he reminded me of a kid coming back from a fishing trip to brag to mom that the fish he caught was "thhiiissss biiggg!" He then mimed hitting things, though without the usual aggression of his species. "Mankey-man. Mankey?"


    ''"The Mirror lake was huge and soothing. It was as though Arceus had shined a mirror onto my very soul. I would not mind going back to meditate there,"'' Artoria translated for me. She then collected her thoughts so she could better put the next part to words. ''"I now understand more clearly that the path to enlightenment begins not with the body, but with the spirit. I shall strive to polish and cultivate my soul, until I too can endure the ravages of time."''


    ''Did he really say that?''


    ''That is as close to word-for-word as I can manage, my lord.''


    I reached out and ruffled his fur. "Well, out of all of us, you''re the one most likely to achieve that goal. Ghost types don''t die, or at least tend to have vastly extended lifespans. If you do become an annihilape, you may well achieve a limited form of immortality."


    He thought on that before making a drumming action again. Then his fingers curled as if playing the piano. "Mankey?"


    ''"The organ. It was a tribute some human made to a friend in his troupe, right?"''


    "That''s right."


    "Mankey. Man. Key¡­"


    ''"If I achieve enlightenment, I too will outlive you all. No matter how many times I form a troupe, they will pass while I alone remain untouched by time¡­" My lord, I believe you''ve taught him the meaning of mortality.''


    It was a disquieting thought. "Sobering, isn''t it? You know what I think?"


    "Man?"


    "I think that death gives life meaning. It''s the fear of being forgotten that makes people want to build a lasting legacy, whether in deeds or offspring. It''s this fear that pushes us on to greater works and reminds us to treasure the time we have. I think that whether you become immortal or not, you won''t be immune to this. As far as I know, only Arceus and a few Legends are truly immortal. Even ghosts can fade away or be cast back into the Distortion after all."


    "Man¡­"


    "Let''s wash up and get some sleep. We''ve got to head out tomorrow for Petalburg," I said as I stood. I advised Durvasa, "Think on it. Reflect on your own mortality, but don''t let it define you. In the end, ''it is what you do with the gift of life that determines who you are.''"


    Author''s Note


    Was the exploration of the ruins necessary? No, not really. Part of me considered letting Aaron discover some hidden passage and a new relic or something, but¡­ nah, you probably expected that. Besides, not everything has to be about some groundbreaking discovery. Sometimes, it''s just nice to have a section dedicated to worldbuilding. I feel like that''s what Pokemon fanfictions excel at, the journey.


    Much of the cavern''s features are based on the Luray Caverns in Luray, Virginia, part of the Shenandoah Valley. It''s honestly one of the coolest places I''ve ever been. The Stalacpipe Organ is an actual thing and yes, you can in fact get married there if you so choose.


    The instrument Aaron is referring to is a thoramin, also called a zeusaphone, which is effectively tesla coils turned into an instrument. Shoutout to my longtime patron, Zerak, for the idea. It was something I hinted at as of 3.8 and Onale''s appeals round with Jeanne''s interest in music.


    And with that wonderful gutpunch quote from the story''s official inspiration, the third arc of When is a Spoon a Sword? comes to an end. Thank you all for your support.


    Thank you for reading. To reach a wider audience, and because I enjoy a more forum-like setup to facilitate discussion, I like to crosspost to a wide variety of websites. You can find them all on my Link Tree: https://linktr.ee/fabled.webs.</a>

 4.1 Fish

    Preface


    Yes, Fish. Then Entre, Cheese, and Dessert. Like with most things regarding this story, it started as a meme but I''m genuinely not sure what I''ll use as arc titles when I''m done with the courses of a meal. Maybe random flavors of ice cream?


    Fish 4.1


    Aaron Fulan


    Route 102, Hoenn Region


    My bokken glowed faintly with white light as I parried a Karate Chop from Durvasa. It was nearly nothing, so faint that it could be dismissed as the lacquer catching the sun, but it was there nonetheless. Slowly, I was bridging the gap between human and pokemon, turning what was once a purely mental ability into something I could channel physically.


    I took a half-step forward and slammed the hilt of my sword into my mankey''s face, sending him sprawling with a pained yelp. I''d swung with all the strength my thirteen year old body could muster but he merely twisted in the air and skidded to a halt a second later. What would have been horrid animal abuse in my past life was just another flavor of team bonding to us.


    Though I''d initially imagined Durvasa being a rival for Artoria, it turned out that she was just a bit too fast with Mana Burst and Teleport for him to engage properly. Jeanne had her own bag of tricks to draw on, her combat style revolved around dealing with faster opponents, but Durvasa had nothing save his own fists. She demonstrated the gulf between them thoroughly over the past several days and he absolutely loathed the thought of her taking it easy on him so he ended up sparring with me as often as not.


    On the plus side, I''d never seen a more motivated pokemon. He directed the frenzied passion his species was known for into physical exercise and Focus Energy in an attempt to reach a "breakthrough" that would put him on even footing with Artoria, or at least within spitting distance of her shadow.


    Even now, he was stronger than me, strong enough to compare to an average adult man despite being only a foot tall. If it wasn''t for the faint trace of psychic aura I could use to reinforce myself, extra reach, and literal decades of experience, I was certain I''d lose. I''d have to work hard to stay ahead of him. That suited me fine; it''d been a long time since I found someone who could push me as a martial artist.


    Off in the corner, Artoria and Jeanne played catch with an increasing number of Electro Balls. Jeanne would launch one after another at Artoria like cannonballs, only for Artoria to extend her spoon''s reach with Light Screen and lob them back. They''d up the number of balls in the air and the strength of their counters until one of them ate an attack in the face. I''d made sure to stock up on paralyze and burn heals before leaving town.


    We''d stopped for a lunch break about a quarter of the way into Route 102. Route 102 had very little in the way of challenges to offer. It was kept free of all but the weakest pokemon by rangers, mostly so agrarian communities like Oldale and nearby settlements would have an easier time transporting their produce to Petalburg. It also helped that our regional professor insisted on isolating himself to the peninsula.


    That was great news for farmers, but not so much for us who were, in game terms, rather overleveled for the area. Too inexperienced to pick up a local commission from a ranger outpost, too strong to get anything out of battling the wild pokemon around here. Which meant we spent our time training amongst ourselves.


    Or in my case, splitting time between training and reading. I didn''t have a mankey''s stamina after all. I didn''t spend all my resting time poring over books from my family library like some sort of bootleg wizard; I also did a fair bit of browsing on the internet. So long as I stayed on the routes proper and not, for example, trek through Petalburg Woods to cut south straight from Verdanturf, connecting to the rest of the world wasn''t an issue.


    The international headline read, "WCS begins with perfect victory for Champion Leon!" Apparently, the man had faced ace trainer Leilani Kanoa of Alola, completely obliterating her team with his monstrous charizard despite her Alolan golem''s best efforts. She''d done well; she''d gotten him to gigantamax, something most people weren''t expecting to see from him until much later on in the tournament. But in the end, there was very little that she could do against an honest to Arceus kaiju.


    People were calling her an ace trainer for the feat. I snorted at that, not her, but the phrase itself, even the news outlets were using the phrase now.


    Strictly speaking, there was no such thing as an "ace trainer." It wasn''t a rank that was conferred upon trainers by the League. As far as I could tell, it was a term that came about organically from online discourse, off the League battle records and forums. When the internet went up, people in this world naturally gravitated towards what my old world called "battleboarding," and shitposting about battleboarding. People started saying "X is ace," so it just came into common parlance. It reminded me of how kids in my old world would make up slang that adults would try to make sense of.


    Though there were no official qualifications, it was generally accepted that trainers who were "ace" were those who completed at least one regional circuit and had a win-loss record of seventy percent or better. In other words, they were the cream of the crop who might consider picking a fight with the likes of mom or Wallace''s elite team. Or, at least, their online following thought they could.


    It was honestly fascinating to watch as internet culture started to come into its own. In some ways, this world''s online zeitgeist was faster to develop than my own. In others, it was painfully slow.


    There was really only one recreation: battling. Sure, there were contests and races and whatnot, but great coordinators and racers were, by definition, also great trainers. Everyone who stood at the top dabbled in battling in one stripe or another. That created an incredibly unified community, ready to be brought together by the wonders of the internet. Things like battleboarding, online ranking systems, or ticket resellers were swift to crop up.


    On the other hand, such an overcentralization of the global community''s interest into a singular form of recreation meant other things were fairly slow to develop. Like social media. My old world had Snapchat, Twitter, Instagram, and half a dozen more flavors of social media. This world had one: the International Pokemon League''s Trainer Logs. Since everyone had pokemon, everyone used the same thing.


    Hell, the idea of a global stock market was young, not even a decade old. The community was so naive in some ways that a part of me wanted to fuck around and replicate the dot-com bubble, but I''d probably have a psychic (mom) kicking my ass within the week.


    ''Please don''t destabilize the global economy for your own amusement, my liege,'' Artoria chided.


    ''I''m joking. I wouldn''t really do it. It''s not like I have a great deal of knowledge about that anyway. I just read a few news articles when they came up.''


    ''I have faith in you.''


    ''Why do I get the feeling you actually mean the exact opposite of that?''


    ''That is your own guilty conscience whispering in your ear, my lord. Perhaps you should consider listening to it more often?'' she sniffed, a teasing smile gracing her face.


    I rolled my eyes and turned back to the digital newspaper. In another corner, I found a little blurb listing out other battles. Flint eliminated his fellow Sinnoh Elite Aaron, the bug type specialist having an admittedly shitty draw this year. Kalos'' Drasna fought Unova''s Grimsley, coming out ahead and no doubt inflaming the age-old rivalry between the two regions. Other than those two, I noticed that none of the Elites battled other Elites. The organizers probably wanted to keep the later brackets interesting.


    I swiped the tab and moved on to the next page. Then the next, until I was three pages in and I found what I was looking for. In typical media fashion, they''d stuck the popular news in the headlines but left the less appealing news in the back. Though to be fair, it was an editorial piece on the effects of the recent Rusturf collapse. "Drayden Shaga withdraws championship bid!" the page practically screamed at me.


    I began to read aloud. "Early March, trainer Sean Anders passed away after his zweilous evolved under underknown circumstances in Rusturf Tunnel. His hydreigon started a panic among exploud and was so ferocious in its rampage that it had to be put down by Elite Drake. The event closed down Rusturf Tunnel for a week, disturbed several local pokemon conclaves, and sent a ripple of unrest throughout the local ecosystem. It also soured Hoenn-Unova relations, causing the negotiations for a cooperative trainer exchange program to come to a screeching halt.


    "Why, you may ask? Because Sean Anders was not just any old trainer lucky enough to have a powerful dragon. He was the sponsored trainer of Drayden Shaga, eighth and widely considered the strongest gym leader of the Unova region. It was a considerable black mark on the dragon master''s reputation, sending out a trainer who turned out to be poorly equipped to handle the evolution of his own type speciality.


    "This tragedy strikes at especially poor timing for Leader Shaga, who had publicly expressed his intent to make a run at the Champion''s crown. He has since withdrawn his bid, saying he had much to learn still.


    "Champion Alder, longest reigning Champion in League history, had this to say, ''It''s unfortunate what happened, but my faith in Leader Shaga is unwavering. He was and remains a firm pillar of our region, someone who I could see taking my seat with enough preparation. My heart goes out to Gym Trainer Anders and my friends in Hoenn. It is my sincere hope that today''s youth take this tragic lesson to heart: There comes a point when the strength of a trainer is not measured strictly in the power of his pokemon, but the power of his bonds.


    "Commentators wondered if that was a generic bit of political support or an indication that the aging Champion intended to retire. Though still mighty, Champion Alder had begun to take a step back from the political arena as of late, choosing instead to be something of a vagabond philanthropist, a wandering hero unafraid to work directly with the people. Whatever the case, Elite Caitlyn was tapped as a special envoy to Hoenn to reassure our leaders and hopefully mend bridges. How that will go remains to be seen."


    That was¡­ good¡­? Caitlin was coming here. Or perhaps she was already here. Considering she and mom were acquaintances, that was good for inter-regional relations. On a personal note, it probably meant I''d get my larvesta egg very soon, or I''d be forced to wait for however long negotiations lasted before Caitlyn could go back to Unova and return to looking for the egg. As mom said, either Petalburg or whichever city I headed to after.


    I turned to the regional news section and found something else of interest. Apparently, the geological survey led by Dr. Kagari around Mt. Chimney came back with some interesting findings. Soil composition that was atypical of volcanic regions was noted near the crater, which in this world likely meant unusual pokemon activity. Excavation efforts were set to continue at a far slower pace now that there was a significant risk of disturbing wild pokemon nests.


    I breathed a sigh of relief. It meant whatever Magma was looking for, their efforts would be slowed significantly.


    ''We''re assuming she is Magma then, my liege?'' Artoria asked.


    ''I''m almost positive. It''s a fair guess given her name, distinctive hair, that stoic face, a scientific background¡­''


    ''Perhaps we should inform Lady Sharon?''


    A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    ''And say what? "Hey, mom, I''m from a different reality?"''


    ''We could.''


    ''I''d rather not have anyone else rooting around in my head, Artoria. Mom is¡­ mom.''


    ''Then should we investigate Magma first? Perhaps it''ll be easier for us to discover evidence linking their plans as we already know what their goal is.''


    ''That might be true. We can work backwards since we know their end goal already. But I don''t think we''re strong enough,'' I told her truthfully. This world wasn''t a game; villains wouldn''t use only a handful of poochyena and numel, nor would they be restricted to "levels." Even if the cult offered each grunt a numel as something like a signing bonus, I could expect almost everyone to have some variation in their teams. ''Even if the grunts are as weak as I remember, we''re not ready for any of the admins.''


    ''Our options then are to tell Lady Sharon or investigate on our own?''


    ''We could also do nothing.''


    ''You would never,'' she said confidently. ''My lord is a man of action, always was. Perhaps you would stay your hand for a minor matter, but the goals of Magma and Aqua are too far-reaching in scope for you to stand idly by.''


    ''You''re not wrong. Sitting around with my thumbs up my ass sounds too much like waiting for Brendan or May to rescue us all with some sky dragon ex machina. That doesn''t sit right with me.''


    ''Nor with me, my lord.''


    ''But I still don''t want to talk to mom¡­ How about we call that a last resort? Maybe we''ll have enough information so I don''t need to get a mind scan.''


    ''Very well, my lord. Then we shall train until we are ready to investigate on our own. We have time, at least until Lord Tate and Lady Liza become gym leaders.''


    ''It still feels weird keeping tabs on Magma like this though.''


    ''My lord?''


    ''Hmm?''


    ''If Magma wants to awaken Groudon, what is Aqua doing?''


    ''That''s the worry, isn''t it?'' I mused. ''In the games, both Aqua and Magma could be found in scripted events. Both stole from the Devon scientist in Petalburg Woods. Both tried to turn Cozmo''s meteorite into a mega stone on Mt. Chimney. Both stole an Orb from Mt. Pyre.''


    ''Then there is no point in worrying, my lord. The truth of the matter is that we do not know the specifics despite your otherworldly knowledge. Whether the villains we face ends up being Magma or Aqua, it matters not. All that matters is that we press forward. Answers will come with strength,'' she said with a resolute nod. It really was that simple for her. She''d train until she could handle any unforeseen obstacles, and then train some more.


    ''You''re right, Artoria. Thank you.''


    ''I live to serve. Only¡­''


    ''Yes?''


    ''We should also keep an eye on this Professor Cozmo. The one called Zinnia of the Draconids as well. The meteorite he will find, it will be necessary to mega evolve Rayquaza, yes?''


    ''We are. He''s one of the names I''m looking for when I read the news. If something happens, we''ll know. Maybe I can get mom to buy it and keep it in our family vault or something. As for Zinnia, she''s going to be a lot harder to track. She wasn''t the Lorekeeper until very shortly before the events of the games and spent most of the canon events as a disguised grunt in either Aqua or Magma.''


    ''We do what we can. Until then, we move forward as we always have.''


    ''Always.''


    X


    At the sluggish pace we were traveling, it took us four days to arrive at Petalburg City. "Petalburg City, where people mingle with nature!" a sign proclaimed proudly.


    It was a nice thought, except that made Petalburg just about the least interesting city in Hoenn. Practically every town in this world tried to "mingle with nature." Fortree went above and beyond in the attempt of course, but other than major metro areas like Rustboro, people made a real effort to get along with the local wildlife. Wise choice, when most of the wildlife could kill you with barely a thought.


    "We mingle with nature," wasn''t as much a boast about the city''s virtues as it was a tacit admission that, "We have nothing else interesting to put on our sign."


    Artoria snorted in a distinctly unladylike manner. ''That seems overly harsh, my lord.''


    ''Yea? Name one interesting thing about this city besides Norman Maple.''


    ''There is¡­ There has to be something¡­''


    ''Yeah. The parks and ocean breeze is nice,'' I admitted. To be fair to the city, I would have felt privileged to live in a city as well-designed as this one in my past life.


    Petalburg had been built flush against the Touka River, on a floodplain that transitioned into a slow-flowing delta as it met the sea. That wasn''t always a good idea thanks to erosion, flooding, and sediment buildup, but the city made it work with the help of numerous water pokemon. Instead of building a series of dams to section off the river, the city decided to literally "mingle with nature" by constructing a network of canals, underground waterways, and freshwater ponds. These broke up the main Touka River and slowed its flow to create habitats for local pokemon while simultaneously forming small landmasses for human habitation.


    Homes and buildings were built in between ponds. People traversed the city using a combination of bridges and walkways. There were normal roads and sidewalks built out away from the floodplain as the city expanded and industrialized, but the "old town" district of Petalburg was still very much a "foot traffic only" kind of place. Or, if you felt bold, swimming.


    Really, I was being a grump for the sake of it; the city was beautiful in its own way. Where Verdanturf catered to grass types, Petalburg loved their water types, almost as much as Sootopolis.


    Small armies of marill and surskit cleaned the waterways, kept pokemon from the woods from encroaching too much into the city, and provided easy training venues for young trainers and students. Sometimes, a local wingull or corphish would take a shine to a student from a trainer school and become their starter.


    The four of us walked through the main road as it transitioned from dirt to pavement. That was another interesting sidenote: Asphalt basically didn''t exist. Or it did, but in extremely small quantities compared to what I was used to. Cities almost universally preferred concrete pavement over petroleum byproduct because though asphalt was cheaper and easier to lay down and maintain by human hands, rock and ground type pokemon could maintain concrete far cheaper and easier than anything a human could manage. Why bother with heavy machinery when a well-trained graveler with Mud Slap could make a usable concrete slurry in half the time?


    Truly, being a strong trainer opened doors even after the journey. Most never acquired eight badges, never mind competed in a conference, but simply being decent enough with a type usually meant you had a solid career ahead of you, which was another reason most people chose to become specialists.


    The very first pokemon center we stumbled upon, the one nearest to the Oldale exit, was nearly filled to the brim with kids my age. There was apparently some kind of school camp in the woods going on right now. The center still had room for one more, but the four of us decided collectively that we''d prefer somewhere a bit more private.


    Ironically, it was the most touristy pokemon center that ended up being the least crowded. There wasn''t anything unusual about the center itself, but it was situated only a block away from the bay where the Touka River met the sea and had a splendid view of the oceanside sunset each evening. I''d expected it to be busier because of the view; maybe the locals were long used to the scene.


    "Man-mankey!" Durvasa said, as he climbed on my shoulder. He gestured wildly at the ocean. His eyes shone with naked awe. He was, after all, a pokemon who''d spent all his life in a forest. He didn''t know what an ocean was until I tried to explain to him what islands were while we were talking about Mossdeep.


    I was not a particularly poetic man, yet even if I was, how could mere words describe Kyogre''s domain? This one view of the seemingly endless horizon and the ocean waves that glittered like gemstones put any words to shame.


    There was only a small pier here unlike in Slateport, the city having chosen to invest in tourism over commercial trade to take advantage of its pristine sandbars.


    "Flaaf!" Jeanne bleated happily, rushing out to the pokemon center''s backyard so she could spread her arms wide towards the setting sun. Her horns and tail glowed bright as though she was trying to outshine the sun.


    ''Because she is,'' Artoria said dryly. She scowled lightly at Durvasa for "climbing our liegelord like a tree," but knew to let it go by now. ''Durvasa has never seen the sea before. He says its vastness reflects the world''s limitless potential.''


    I reached over my shoulder to give Durvasa a quick scratch. "Right, first time. It''s big, huh? Even if we doubled the amount of land there is in the world, there would still be more ocean than land."


    "Man¡­"


    "The world''s a big place, Durvasa. Jeanne, you ever seen the sea before?"


    "Flaaf," she nodded. "Flaffy-flaaf."


    ''She has, but not this close. Her herd never had cause to be so close to the sea as there isn''t much to eat.''


    "True, true. Well enjoy the view, ladies and gent, because we''re going to be here a while."


    We walked back inside so we could raid the center''s canteen for dinner. Unfortunately, though I''d managed to escape others my age, the center was hardly empty. Most guests here seemed to be people in their late teens to early thirties, travelers who could afford the slightly higher bill to stay by the sea or had a sponsorship like myself. We were about to exit the lobby when we heard a bit of a commotion at the front desk.


    "Come on, nurse, ya gotta run this through again," a guest said, sliding their card across the counter. They, because that might have been the prettiest man I''d ever met. They were of middling height, with mint-green hair worn in a pixie cut and bright, pink eyes, kind of like a watermelon. Their hair even had darker streaks of green to further sell the image. Their voice was equally androgynous, with a youthful note that could be feminine or just mean that their balls hadn''t dropped yet.


    The receptionist looked tired. She let out a sigh but input their card through the systems one more time. "Not a nurse, just the receptionist. I''m sorry¡­ mister¡­?"


    "Why does everyone ask me that? Yes, I''m a boy," he sighed.


    "Well, I''m sorry, Mr. Gallagher, this card has no funds."


    "It''s from the Fortree Weather Institute! It''s the institute''s company card! How can it not have funds?"


    "I don''t know what to tell you. Are you sure this is the company card?"


    "I mean¡­ one of them¡­ My supervisor told me to take this one."


    "It''s likely that your supervisor gave you a deactivated card on accident. Can you call him?"


    "Her. But she''s off on vacation," he slumped. "Look, I really don''t want to camp out again. Any chance you''ll take an IOU? Or maybe I can do a job for you guys?"


    "We don''t have any job orders that need filling at the moment," the nurse said, not even bothering to answer the IOU question.


    He looked around desperately before settling on me. I cursed my stupidity for sticking around but he was already stalking towards me. "Hey, buddy, mind loaning me a few credits? Or maybe let me bunk with you for a night?"


    I sighed. "You can''t tell me you have no funds except your card."


    "I did¡­ I just¡­" He tossed out a pokeball, revealing a roserade that posed like Tuxedo Mask. "I kinda blew all I had on a shiny stone. Thorn''s my starter and when I saw the shiny stone on sale, I¡­ hehehehe¡­"


    I took a moment to study Thorn. Sure enough, his leaves were as green as baby bamboo shoots. I wasn''t a grass type expert or anything, but leaves like that did generally indicate youth much as it did in plants. The only other distinguishing feature that set him apart from other roserade was the slightly pinkish tint of his white blossom. "Pink?"


    "Yeah, he''s the son of a coordinator''s old roserade. Sonya of the Rose Garden, heard of her?"


    "Can''t say I do. I really only know Wallace and a few rising stars from this year''s circuit, sorry."


    "She''s my big sister, used to be big seven or eight years ago, even did a tour of Sinnoh."


    "Huh. Good for her."


    "Come on, help a guy out. I swear I''ll pay you back as soon as I can get a hold of my boss at the Weather Institute," he said, trying his best at the puppy eyes. Given his effeminate face, he was uncomfortably good at it.


    "You''re really from the Weather Institute?"


    "Yup. Here, see my ID?" He handed it to me. "Frankie Gallagher, Junior Field Researcher," it read.


    "A sponsored trainer?"


    "I mean, kinda? Second year traveling but I''m not going for badges or anything."


    That made him two or three years my senior depending on when his birthday lined up. My consideration for the Weather Institute dropped a fair bit. This kind of thing should''ve been ironed out within the first month. Even so, the place was the foremost meteorological agency in Hoenn and either Aqua or Magma would attack it for information eventually¡­ seeding it with a few connections couldn''t hurt.


    "Fine," I sighed. They were probably good for the money anyway. I held out a finger to forestall his cheering. "You owe me a favor, deal?"


    "Deal! Thanks, man. What''s your name?"


    "Aaron Fulan."


    "Huh, like Sharon Fulan? The Oracle of Mossdeep?"


    "That''d be mother dearest, yes. Mossdeep''s my sponsor so fair warning, your supervisor will probably hear from the gym to get the payment squared away. It''s not a lot of money, but mom''s very precise about this sort of thing."


    "Yeah, that''s cool. Thanks again, Aaron."


    "Yup. I''m gonna grab some grub. Tell the receptionist to put it on my tab and come join me for dinner, Frankie."


    "Sweet, thanks!"


    I decided to make myself scarce while he skipped off. Technically, I wasn''t loaning him my money, and I knew the Weather Institute was good for it, but there was something about the act that made me hesitate anyway. Still, he seemed like an alright sort, for a sentient watermelon.


    Author''s Note


    A 70% win rate is great in competitive sports. Yes, 100% monsters exist, but they''re legends for a reason. On another note, I found out what "rizz" meant very recently and felt so fucking old.


    Not gonna lie, I was that kid that tried to commit Naruto hand-signs to memory. I thought it made me the coolest fucker in the schoolyard in middle school and I still cringe every time I think back on it. Writing shitty fanfiction has a way of forcing you to confront your cringiest memories.


    "Touka" is the name of Petalburg in Japanese. I decided to use it for the name of the floodplain/river where Petalburg was built.


    Facts? I swear, some of you are happier about random trivia than the actual story. Fine. In any given year, over 1,500 people are bitten by... people... in New York City. In comparison, only about 100 are bitten by sharks around the world.


    Seriously, NY, what the fuck?


    Thank you for reading. To reach a wider audience, and because I enjoy a more forum-like setup to facilitate discussion, I like to crosspost to a wide variety of websites. You can find them all on my Link Tree: https://linktr.ee/fabled.webs.</a>

 4.2 Fish

    Fish 4.2


    Aaron Fulan


    Petalburg City


    My team and I went about our morning ritual with cheer and vigor. With teammates like Jeanne and Durvasa, even Artoria couldn''t put off starting the day forever.


    The beauty of rising so early was that the pokemon center''s backyard and training fields were completely deserted. After stretching and taking a few laps around the field, we returned inside to gorge on the center''s free supply of eggs. Today, breakfast was a diner-style omelet with tomatoes, peppers, and a diced berry I couldn''t name off the cuff but had a savory, slightly smoky taste when sauteed.


    We marched back outside just as people began to wake up. They wouldn''t be training this early so we were free to get back to our routine.


    "Kick it slow for half an hour to digest," I told them. I led them into a series of stretches that they followed as much as their different physiologies allowed. It was also a great way to practice breathing. The breath was one of the few constants vital to every martial art after all. Leaning to pace themselves would go a long way towards developing their own combat styles.


    After thirty minutes of this, I split them apart to go their own ways.


    Jeanne was trying to improve her speed and develop a close-range variant of Electro Ball. Though the contest did ultimately end in our victory, Ember the combusken made it plain to us that she needed better close-range options than "shock everything and hope for the best." Cotton Spore was good, but it just wasn''t pulling as much weight as it would coming from say, a whimsicott.


    Hence the Rasengan-clone. It worked well enough in the contest, but it was like a bomb that exploded in all directions. The kickback was manageable because she was an electric type and it was her own electricity, but I didn''t want her losing her footing because she got shoved back by her own attack. To that end, her goal was a ball of condensed electric aura that detonated like a shaped charge.


    "Flaaf," she groaned as she held an orb of light in her hand. It shrank before my eyes as she did her best to compress it.


    "Good, now shape it into a funnel. Imagine a little cyclone that explodes into your opponent," I encouraged.


    "Flaaffy¡­" The ball in her hand turned vaguely oblong, then slightly conic, before finally blowing up in her face. It sent her stumbling back two steps. Jeanne fell on her haunches and looked up at me with a pout. "Flaa¡­"


    "Hey, none of that. You did shape it a little bit, right? That''s a good start."


    "Flaaf?"


    I reached down and flicked her ear. "I do think so. Keep at it, okay?"


    "Flaaf."


    Across the field, Artoria sat cross-legged on a platform of psychic energy. She cradled the gardevoirite in her hands. She was using it as a meditation aid. Since it exuded both psychic and fairy auras, we hoped that it could teach her to harness the latter with enough time and familiarity. The way she held it reminded me of a stereotypical fortune teller and her crystal ball, or of children putting balloons in their shirts pretending to be pregnant.


    ''It''s outside my dress!'' she protested, having picked up my stray thoughts.


    ''It is. I was just thinking about how big your precious is compared to you,'' I replied. It sat about as large as a beachball on her lap.


    ''Can you please stop calling it "my precious?"''


    ''Fine, fine, the Gollum joke is getting a bit stale anyway. Any luck so far?''


    ''A little. Fairy aura is¡­ elusive. It is in its nature, and yet I find myself frustrated with my continued failure.''


    ''It takes time.''


    ''Yes, but I have been doing this for months, ever since we began our journey.''


    ''You have, but you''ve only had the gardevoirite for a fraction of that time. And you''ve improved.''


    She huffed. A pale, pink glow emanated from the gardevoirite. I felt her focus a little harder and the glow suffused her torso in a mist-like layer. ''This is the fruit of my labors,'' she said bitterly. ''When I try to shape the mist in any way¡­'' I felt her focus her mind again. She reached out, grasped the mist, and then¡­ The mist popped like soap bubbles, vanishing back to wherever it came from.


    I thought about what she just showed me. ''What is fairy aura, Artoria?''


    ''It is elusive and mysterious. It embodies the unknown aspects of the world and requires a personality that fully contradicts my own worldview.''


    ''Right. That''s what Alice said too.''


    ''Indeed. My lady mother suggested that I am trying too hard, but how can I be trying too hard when I''ve yet to succeed? I am not trying hard enough!''


    I rolled my eyes. It was such an Artoria thing to think. I''d planned to get to Durvasa, but I glanced over and he was fine. He had lifted one section of the aluminum bleachers and crawled beneath its support and was currently using it as a bench press. He looked mildly disappointed; those things were made to be as light as possible after all.


    I took a seat in front of Artoria. With her hovering, she sat at about eye-level with me. I then placed a hand on the gardevoirite. ''I think Alice meant exactly that: You''re trying too hard.''


    ''That makes no-''


    I reached out and placed a finger on her lips. Sure she wasn''t vocalizing, but it had the same effect. ''Shh. Listen. Fairy aura is mystery made manifest, right? I think those were her exact words. Maybe that''s the problem. It''s not meant to be grabbed. Or held. Or mastered. Or controlled. The more you try to wrap your figurative fingers around it, the more elusive it becomes, like a child grasping at the morning mist.''


    ''Then how am I to succeed? How does any pokemon succeed?''


    ''It''s possible, we know it is. So, do what your mother says and let go. Don''t focus on trying to master it. Instead, let''s do the opposite. Do you master moonlight? Or do you lie beneath on a warm summer night and simply enjoy being in its presence?''


    ''That may be, but I still do not see how I can use any moves if all I do is soak in the light.''


    I shrugged apologetically. ''I''m sorry, Artoria. I really don''t know. Just let go and simply be. Trust Alice. She''s¡­ problematic¡­ but she is your mother and she does mean you well.''


    ''Very well, my lord,'' she acquiesced. I could tell she''d rather be running through her sword forms but she''d do this for me.


    ''Maybe we should do this as a cooldown exercise? Do it as a way to relax. Reflect on your day.''


    ''Much as I would beneath the moonlight¡­''


    ''Exactly.''


    ''I shall. Thank you for your guidance,'' she said with a bow. She stood and handed over the mega stone so I could place it in a hammerspace bag I always carried on my person. ''For now, I shall redo my stretches before running suicides. Will we go shopping for weights today, my liege?''


    ''We will, thanks for reminding me.''


    I parted with Artoria, leaving her in a considerably better mood. Not great, still frustrated, but less about to tear her hair out. I was about to make my way to Durvasa when the door to the pokemon center opened, revealing Frankie the watermelon.


    The effeminate meteorologist was bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, with a thick white jacket reminiscent of a labcoat to ward off the ocean breeze. In his hands, he carried a volleyball-sized contraption that looked to be a camera of some sort. Over his right shoulder floated a cloud with eyes¡­ and testicles¡­


    ''Pffttt, please stop making me laugh,'' Artoria chided. She almost slipped on the turn and nearly skidded on her face. ''Castform do not have male genitalia.''


    ''And how would you know? They''re right there. Gives new meaning to "cloud watching," eh?''


    ''Your regressed age has likewise deteriorated your sense of humor, my lord.''


    I laughed. Flustering Artoria was always good business. ''I''ll have you know, I was a dirty old man before death too. Besides, you laughed so you''re just as bad as me beyond all that stuffy knight-ness.''


    ''"Knight-ness" is not a word. And I laughed out of shock. I do not find juvenile jokes about intercourse humorous,'' she said primly.


    ''Ooh, big words.'' I raised a hand to Frankie in greeting. "Morning, what''re you doing out?"


    He slapped the ball in his hands. "Sorry if I''ve disturbed your training, Aaron. I''ll only be out here for a short while if you don''t mind. Then I''m going back inside. It''s a little chilly in the morning."


    "You wouldn''t need that coat if you worked out with us."


    "Bah, you''re an anomaly among trainers too. Not many humans train directly with their pokemon."


    "They should. It''s a great way to earn a pokemon''s respect."


    "Maybe."


    "So what are you doing with that ball?"


    He held it out for me to see. What I first thought was a camera lens actually turned out to be some sort of sensor protected by plexiglass. There was a sealed compartment on top of the sphere that looked like it''d open outward. "Oh, this? This is my job, the reason I''m out here for the Weather Institute. You see, the Weather Institute is the home of the Hoenn Meteorological Academy. We partner with universities and observatories all around the region to gather data on weather patterns so we can create a log of our changing climate."


    I nodded along. I didn''t realize that was a thing, but it made sense in hindsight. Humans weren''t major contributors to pollution or climate change on a global scale in this world because respect for super-powerful wildlife was common sense, but that didn''t mean climate change didn''t happen. If anything, there was a real possibility that climate change happened faster thanks to the actions of pokemon.


    ''There is also the weather trio to consider, my lord,'' Artoria pointed out. ''Could it be that some in the League''s government wish to use climate logs to predict the coming of Groudon or Kyogre before they fully rouse themselves?''


    ''It''s a possibility. In the games, Tabitha or Shelly will raid the Weather Institute to learn more about Kyogre or Groudon. Presumably, they received the location of the Seafloor Cavern from these guys.''


    "So what kind of data are you gathering?" I asked. I was honestly curious now.


    He pulled a cord attached to his sphere that popped the lid off the top. A weather balloon emerged like a deflated airbag. "Lots of things. Air pressure, wind speed, direction, humidity, of course temperature and building fronts if that''s relevant. I need to do this for seven days, twice a day to get a good sample size. Then, if the data indicates conditions strayed too far from the norm, I might have to send up Blinky here to get more precise measurements, maybe even nudge the weather a bit while I wait for more instructions from the Institute."


    "Huh. So you predict hurricanes and stuff?"


    "Well, not me specifically, but yes. For example, there was a tropical storm two years back that caused a lot of flooding in Sootopolis. Leader Wallace and the mayor received advance warning from the researcher there about the coming storm. The Weather Institute sent out a team of researchers and rangers with castform to stall the storm''s trajectory and buy enough time for the city to evacuate."


    This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    "That sounds like important work. No storms in Petalburg though?"


    "Probably not," he said sheepishly. "I''m just an assistant field researcher so I don''t get potentially dangerous assignments like that."


    "But why not just have the castform disperse the storm altogether? Wouldn''t that save the people and pokemon a lot of grief?"


    "You''d think so, but that''s because you don''t know the sheer energy contained in a single thundercloud. Keeping it at bay takes immense power, even for a whole cloud of castform."


    I nodded. "Huh, I didn''t think the Weather Institute did so much. Thanks for teaching me, Frankie."


    "No problem." He did something with his pokenav that caused the balloon to begin inflating itself. Then, with the press of a button, it began to float away. "It''s really neat. Important work, but also with plenty of downtime. When the drone transmits data to my pokenav, I''m going to have to run analysis before cleaning it up and filing it away with the Institute''s data center, but until then, the day is mine."


    "Living the dream life, huh? Well, I''m going to go work with Durvasa, my mankey, if you don''t mind. I figure by now, he''s about tired himself out enough to really listen to instructions."


    "You''re taking on Norman, right?"


    "I am."


    "Good luck. I''d offer to spar with you, but Blinky is only a normal type at rest."


    "I know. They change forms with the weather, right? Take care, Frankie," I waved before heading over to Durvasa. The cunning mankey had dropped the bleachers after who knows how many reps, instead going through a few basic karate strikes I showed him.


    Whereas Artoria and Jeanne were building on what they already knew, Durvasa was busy trying to create a functional fighting style of his own. I tried to give him as much one on one time as possible. Not only was he the newest and weakest of my team, as a fighting type, he''d be the lynchpin of my battle against Norman. That promise of a good fight motivated him just as much as any reward I could give.


    Unfortunately, I quickly came to understand why mankey were considered the "least" of Indigo''s indigenous fighting types: Unlike other fighting type species, they knew nothing and started from a blank slate.


    Machop knew karate. Or rather, in this world, karate itself was a martial art that came about from copying the movements of the machop line. And when they evolved, machamp intuitively picked up submission holds, leveraging their immense strength and extra pair of limbs.


    The hitmon-family naturally had their own preferred fighting styles. Each excelled at their respective fighting style and a tyrogue seemed to gravitate towards one style or another almost inexplicably.


    The mankey line¡­ had scratches and berserk rage. Poliwrath weren''t much better in the way of martial technique, but at least they came with a secondary typing and ridiculous stamina that let them swim across the ocean blue for weeks without rest.


    It was then obvious to me why mankey were the least popular: When put in the hands of a normal trainer with zero martial arts knowledge, a mankey would naturally gravitate towards what it knew best, which wasn''t a martial art at all. Training techniques was hard, especially since there wasn''t a readily available TM for "badass MMA ." Even if such a thing existed, it''d probably be way too expensive for a normal trainer.


    I¡­ I tried my best, but even I had to acknowledge my own shortcomings. I was a swordsman, not a karateka. Or muay thai boxer. Or wrestler. I knew the basics of karate by osmosis and HEMA did have a little bit of grappling thrown in just in case you lost your weapon, but the things I could teach Durvasa were woefully limited.


    I showed off what little I knew of karate. Then, I performed the kendo kihon waza, first with a bokken, then without, exchanging sword swings and thrusts with punches and chops. The two martial arts did have a reasonable amount of overlap. It wasn''t nothing, Durvasas did get something out of it, but he quickly absorbed everything I knew about hand to hand fighting.


    In the end, I had to look up martial arts demonstrations and play them back for Durvasa on the pokenav. The League battleboard was a wonderful thing, even if it left me feeling like a mall ninja looking up how to do the hand signs for the Chidori or something. Cringe-inducing memories aside, I worked side by side with Durvasa. I figured he could use the solidarity, and if nothing else, maybe I could learn a bit more about aura on the physical side of things by watching Elite Bruno and his machamp give demos.


    X


    Frankie stuck around a short while to let his pokemon get some air. Alongside the castform and his roserade, his starter and the reason he was broke, he also had a pelipper and glalie. He said he wasn''t much of a battler, but his pokemon seemed fairly strong in their own right. I figured they got plenty of experience fighting off wild pokemon and the occasional overeager trainer while traveling from place to place for the Weather Institute.


    An hour or two later, the researcher recalled his pokemon and went inside, saying it was Peppy the pelipper''s turn to decide what they did with their leisure time. He left me his number and said he''d be happy to return my favor by teaching my pokemon Hail, Snowscape, Rain Dance, or Sunny Day in exchange one day.


    I eventually lost steam. Even if I was just doing katas, there was only so much I could do as a human. While I rested, I watched over Durvasa and scheduled our gym battle online. Like with Wattson, there was a three day wait until our match.


    By mid-morning, even a sleepy pokemon center like Petalburg began to fill up and I couldn''t monopolize all that space anymore. As far as I could tell, these were mostly locals, either hobbyist fishermen returning from early-morning angling or trainers who''d simply allowed themselves to sleep in a bit.


    "Hey kid," one of the newcomers called. He was a middle-aged man with an easygoing smile on his face and a deep tan from years living next to the beach. A straw hat and a Hawaiian (Alolan?) shirt complemented his look, fitting so perfectly I could almost believe he was born with them. "How''s about a friendly battle?"


    I held out a hand for him to shake. "Hello, my name is Aaron. What''s yours, mister?"


    "Aww, shucks. Larry, but don''t mind none of that ''mister'' business."


    "Hmm, I only have one badge. I doubt my team will be much of a challenge for you."


    "That''s perfect. Y''see, I give rides to all them tourists with my lapras and found myself a corsola the other day. Now, little fella''s not strong enough to tangle with my lapras or blastoise, so I figured I''d come here and hang out with the young''uns, see if I can give her some experience."


    I nodded and looked around at my pokemon. All three of them perked up with interest, reminding me of children sitting up straight in class so they could get called on first. "Well, if she''s a new capture, Artoria''s out. She''s my starter and a teleporting kirlia is probably not a good introduction to battling."


    "Yup, that sounds about right. That flaaffy also yours? ''Cause that''s also no good. An electric type shouldn''t be her first battle either."


    "Agreed. Which leaves Durvasa. A fighting type going to be okay?"


    "Ehh, it should be fine. I reckon it won''t be as big a shock as an electric type. Heh, get it?"


    What was it with middle-aged men and puns? Was it just a dad thing? Was he even a dad or did it just come with age? I shook my head in exasperation and called over my mankey. "Come here, bud. Wanna try out what you''ve been practicing on a live target?"


    "Mankey!" he shrieked in affirmation. He seemed confident, maybe too confident for someone who had zero clue what a corsola was. Jeanne and Artoria looked down for a moment before Artoria nudged Jeanne towards the sidelines of one of the practice fields, ready to cheer their teammate on.


    Truthfully, I didn''t know much about the coral pokemon either. They weren''t very popular among fans of the game because they were disgustingly slow and lacked offensive power. They had a reliable recovery option, but didn''t have the HP stats to take advantage of it. Competitively, they were more or less duds or gimmicks. I vaguely remembered Misty having one in the anime and Spike Cannon being something of a signature move for it for a while, but that wasn''t saying much.


    We lined up on opposite sides of the practice fields. As Larry let out his corsola, I spoke to Durvasa. "Alright, listen up, Durvasa. Corsola are very slow, but they can throw out a lot of ranged attacks in a short time. Think of her like Jeanne, but slower and with more variety to her attacks."


    "Man," he nodded. He was all but vibrating with eager anticipation now. I couldn''t fault him. This was our first trainer battle and I had to admit I was thrilled too.


    "Spike Cannon. Water Gun. Bubble Beam and Rock Blast probably," I counted off. "She might look pink, but she''s still a rock type with some decent defenses. If we''re extra unlucky, she''ll be able to use Recover. That means Fury Swipes isn''t going to cut it. We need Karate Chop. Low Kick. Real fighting type moves. Think you can do that?"


    "Man¡­ Mankey-man."


    "Good."


    "You ready, Aaron?" Larry called. "Don''t think you''re the only one who can list off your opponent''s moves."


    "Of course not. No way you''ve never seen a mankey before."


    "We''ll begin off countdown then."


    "Three," I began the count.


    "Two," Larry said.


    "One!" we shouted as one.


    Durvasa rushed forward, trying to close the gap as quickly as possible. Larry''s corsola must have expected it because her branches began to glow white before a barrage of spikes released towards my pokemon.


    I felt no need to tell Durvasa to dodge; he wasn''t an idiot. Neither of us trainers commented as they quickly fell into an equilibrium. Durvasa tried to rush forward and Larry''s corsola kept him at bay with a combination of Water Gun and Spike Cannon. She hadn''t landed a hit yet, but there were some narrow misses.


    I pondered that. Durvasa hadn''t been training with us long, but he did have a few sessions of dodging practice with Jeanne and the corsola wasn''t as quick on the draw.


    I felt a smile threaten to split my face but suppressed it. The tricksy little fucker was playing her. I told him that corsola were ranged fighters so he was trying to wear her out, maybe get her used to a slower pace before gunning the gas suddenly. With only a bit of forewarning, he''d figured out a good way to close the gap without any ranged options of his own.


    I decided to follow his plan. Adding a bit of frustration to my voice, I ordered, "Slow down a bit. Focus Energy and then break through!"


    "Man?" he looked back in askance. Why the hell would I tell him to slow down? The very first thing I had him do was to learn to use Focus Energy while in motion. He ran through a decent chunk of Petalburg Woods with a soup pot full of rocks strapped to his back while doing this exact thing. Question was whether he''d hear what I was really saying.


    "Now, corsola! Let''s show him we can play that game too! Aqua Ring!" Larry shouted.


    His corsola responded with a trilling, chirping noise that reminded me both of birds and of waves flowing through rock formations. A blue light began to surround her as she summoned three orbs of water. Slowly, they began to orbit her and fill her with cool, nourishing energy.


    I could tell the moment Durvasa understood my order. His snout split with a wicked grin as he suddenly packed on the speed. His hands began to glow with a white aura as he made his approach.


    Both trainer and corsola widened their eyes in shock. "Give up the Aqua Ring. Shoot him down!" Larry yelled.


    "Corsola!" his pokemon replied, obeying with a hasty barrage of Spike Cannon.


    It wasn''t fast enough. The pokemon that had been just barely dodging her attacks suddenly nearly doubled in speed, throwing off her aim. By the time she course-corrected, he was on her.


    "Now, let''s put those lessons to work!" I called. "Karate Chop!"


    "Man-key!" he shrieked, bringing his paw down in a strike that dug her an inch into the dirt. By sheer ferocity, he was able to take a second swing before his opponent blasted him out of melee range with a desperate Water Gun.


    He skidded to a stop with a grunt of pain.


    "You good, Durvasa?"


    "Man!" The tiny terror was better than good; he looked downright murderous.


    "Recover!" Larry called. A white light began to suffuse the corsola as she tried to heal from the mauling Durvasa gave her.


    "Encore!" I shouted back with an eager grin. Durvasa could play his tricks, but this was what I was really after.


    He looked confused, but complied anyway.


    Good, because Recover was one of those moves I was exposed to often. It wasn''t out of the question for psychic types to know the move. Alakazam, starmie, and even gardevoir could learn the move, albeit with a fair bit of effort and hardship.


    As with most things, Recover did not work like the games. Its potency varied a great deal based on experience, the species of pokemon using the move, and even the pokemon''s mindset; it didn''t always heal a flat fifty percent of the pokemon''s HP, however that would be measured.


    There were stories of starmie that could reconstitute themselves from a single fragment of their cores after a gyarados or kingdra ate most of them for dinner. On the other hand, very few other pokemon were anywhere near that robust. A gardevoir would definitely die without a head and I doubted this corsola counted among their number either.


    Most of all, Recover was exhausting. It was a move that revitalized the user with pure aura. It forced the entire body to behave like stem cells while hyper-accelerating cell division and differentiation. In short, it could be described as a way to transmute raw aura into physical, usually organic, matter. Naturally, that meant it took its toll on the pokemon''s stamina in a way that couldn''t really be mitigated. It certainly wasn''t a move that could be spammed eight times back to back like the games.


    A freshly caught corsola who was asked to use Recover again and again and again? She''d wear herself out in short order.


    "Close in and deck her," I instructed. "Keep it up until she tires herself out."


    A mankey didn''t need much encouragement to get violent. He treated the poor thing like a weighted punching bag. Each time he did any real damage, the Encore kicked in and she reformed her pink shell.


    "Come back," I called. Durvasa, to his credit, stopped immediately and trotted to my side. He wore a small, satisfied smirk on his face, just about the happiest I''d ever seen him. "Do you yield, Larry? I don''t think she''s down to do much else."


    "Yeah, I do. You did good, girl," he praised his corsola as he returned her. "That was a nasty trick with the Encore."


    "It was."


    "And with the speed. Little bugger''s faster than I thought he''d be."


    "He is," I said with a proud smile. "Durvasa worked really hard for that speed."


    "So he has." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a wallet. "Let me give you your winnings."


    "Nah, we agreed this was practice. If anything, I should be thanking you for giving Durvasa such a great intro to battling."


    "This was his first battle too?"


    "First trainer battle. He took on a few wild pokemon and I reckon he''s got plenty of experience before I caught him."


    He huffed. "Well, that little thing''s going to grow up to be a right terror."


    I grinned with a few too many teeth. "Yeah, I''m looking forward to it."


    Author''s Note


    Dick jokes? About castform? How can I not? I mean, it''s right there!


    Back when I was in middle school, I was the biggest Naruto nerd. My friends and I used to memorize ninja hand signs for different jutsu so we could dick around during recess. I sometimes think of stuff like this when I write and immediately cringe with shame. Upside of moving across the country as an adult: None of my embarrassing shit followed me to DC.


    All of Frankie''s pokemon can learn Weather Ball. Why does he look like a watermelon? I don''t know, I just felt like I haven''t written enough anime hairstyles lately.


    On another note, if you''re looking for a new Pokemon fic to read, check out Twisted Garden on SpaceBattles. It''s a bit darker and grittier than this story, but it''s well-written and has a faster pace I think will agree with some people more.


    The story follows the rise of Erika from a street rat in Celadon to becoming a powerful grass type specialist. It''s got a lot in common with Sacrifice and Subjugation in terms of tone if any of you remember that story.


    I don''t have an animal fact for you today, but here''s a presidential fact: Franklin Roosevelt was married to his cousin, Eleanor Roosevelt on St. Patrick''s Day. What''s that have to do with the chapter? Nothing.


    Thank you for reading. To reach a wider audience, and because I enjoy a more forum-like setup to facilitate discussion, I like to crosspost to a wide variety of websites. You can find them all on my Link Tree: https://linktr.ee/fabled.webs.</a>

 4.3 Fish

    Aaron''s Pokemon


    Artoria (Kirlia)


    Jeanne (Flaaffy)


    Durvasa (Mankey)


    Fish 4.3


    Aaron Fulan


    Petalburg City


    After beating Larry and his corsola, we fielded a few more challenges from trainers who''d been watching. Durvasa battled until he lost, just two opponents later. His speed and ability to use Focus Energy on the move was now a known quantity to any spectators who cared to watch so he was forced to rely on his admittedly lackluster martial arts. In his defense though, he lost to an azumarill that that completely overpowered him with Play Rough.


    Jeanne promptly avenged him with a nonstop stream of Shock Waves before similarly taking out my opponent''s wingull for the win.


    My three pokemon traded off like that. By the time Jeanne tired and Artoria got her own share of licks in, Durvasa was ready to hit the field again. Even when he was resting, my little sage did so in meditation, a persistent cycle of victory, defeat, and self-reflection. It was like I was incapable of attracting anything but training nuts into my team. Even Jeanne, though she could be a bit of a diva, was serious about keeping up with Artoria and got very passionate when it came to nailing her performances.


    By lunchtime, the disparate movements Durvasa only learned at the crack of dawn this morning had begun to flow as one, cohesive dance. I wouldn''t call it a complete fighting style by any stretch, but he was getting there at a remarkable pace.


    Though the first match against Larry had been without any ante, the four of us made sure to take our winnings from anyone who was within our badge range. At a single badge, the prize money was pitiful but we did pull in 2,100 credits by the end of it, not bad for a morning''s pay.


    We headed inside for a quick lunch from the canteen before striking out into the city. Petalburg was fairly slow for a city of its size, but I''d have felt bad if I didn''t take the time to explore any of it while I had the chance.


    After a while, we first stopped by a sports outlet store called Mulaney''s so I could make good on my promise. It reminded me of many similar places in my life with one caveat: There were entire sections of the store dedicated to toddler-sized, yet heavily weighted equipment. Pokemon were capable of warping the natural order in bizarre ways, but they weren''t physically imposing most of the time. With so many pokemon that stood less than three feet in height, my own included, it made sense for workout gear to reflect that.


    It was honestly a little weird seeing a set of barbells and tension bands designed clearly for individuals who stood at knee-height. I saw a sandshrew walking around with its trainer, testing out different equipment. I glanced at the labels and saw a crisp fifty pounds on each end of the bar it was using, a reminder that yes, despite their size, these were mature members of their species who could probably fold grown men in half.


    For his part, Durvasa looked like he''d died and gone to heaven. I was seriously wondering if sticking him in a gym or sports outlet like this with unlimited food and water would help him master his rage through the joy of working out or something. Probably a dumb idea, but the look on his face kept me from ruling it out completely.


    "Come on, bud," I told him. "Let''s go find someone who can get us a set fitted for you."


    He whined like a child but allowed me to pick him up and tuck him beneath my armpit like a football. We soon found someone who worked here, a young woman in her mid-twenties who wore a red uniform with the store logo. A nametag over her heart said her name was Julie Mulaney, which made her either the owner or the owner''s daughter.


    "Hey, kid, what can I help you with?" she greeted.


    I suppressed the pang of annoyance at being called a kid, again, and smiled. "Hi, I''m looking for weights for both myself and my pokemon."


    "Ooh, a mankey huh? A budding fighting master?"


    "I also have a flaaffy and kirlia who need weights. Would you recommend tension bands or barbells?"


    "You sure you want to give a kirlia weights? That''s not really their thing."


    Before I could answer, Artoria pulled her spoon from her back and jumped into a series of kendo kata that made the spoon whirl like a helicopter. She abruptly pulled it to a stop in what could best be described as a military salute, the silver slapping audibly into her palm with a satisfying clap.


    "Kirlia-kir. Kirlia," she said, bowing from her waist.


    "She says she would very much like anything to improve her physical performance and that she would appreciate your expert opinion," I translated.


    The employee blinked in surprise as she tried to process what she just saw. "Huh¡­ That''s a real special kirlia you got there, kid."


    "Yup. Artoria''s one of a kind. So, bands or barbells?"


    "Well, that depends. Are you traveling or local?"


    "Traveling."


    "Then definitely weights, but not barbells. Now, we sell equipment in three forms: rubber bands, metal weights, or sand. They''ve all got their advantages. Bands are the easiest to maintain at home and for people, but pokemon tend to grow very quickly. If the tension bands aren''t swapped out consistently, they can snap and hurt the pokemon or you if you''re nearby, especially for fighters like mankey. Or, the opposite happens and they become loose and no longer useful as training aids.


    "Solid metal weights are a little more straightforward, but they can be fairly cumbersome to carry around; hammerspace bags have their limits after all. We do have weighted shoes, belts, bracers, and the like that can be fitted with metal plates of differing densities, but they''re a bit on the pricier side than regular barbells. Lastly, we also have pouches of weighted sand that perform like the metal plates."


    I thought about it. A quick bit of napkin-math told me that a set of weighted equipment for each of us would be about 1,900 credits for a human and 1,300 credits for a pokemon after League subsidies, for 5,800 credits altogether.


    I had 7,498 credits after my mom gave me my monthly grant and Frankie drained seven days of pokemon center lodgings from me. 5,800 wasn''t impossible to afford, but I''d be left with a little less than 1,700 credits. I reckoned when converted to good ol'' freedumb-bucks, it was about $200, give or take a few Hamiltons. We wouldn''t starve or anything, gym sponsorship guaranteed that much at least, and if we beat Norman in three days, our monthly grant would increase, but¡­


    "I know that look. Four sets of gear is a lot for a new trainer," the employee said with an understanding nod.


    "I can afford it, but yeah, it''s cutting things a bit closer than I''d prefer. I like keeping a few grand for a rainy day, or a TM or something, you know? Or what if I catch a fourth pokemon that''s more demanding on my wallet and my food bill suddenly increases? I''m not really looking for a fourth right now, but still¡­" There was the egg to consider. I didn''t know when Caitilin would come through on a larvesta egg, but a baby pokemon probably had hidden expenses I hadn''t accounted for yet.


    "Good, you''re thinking smart. Too many new trainers live paycheck to paycheck. I really feel like budgeting should be a bigger focus on the TLE, but hey, what do I know? I just own a sporting goods store."


    ''I-I suppose I do not need fitted weights immediately, my lord,'' Artoria said shyly. I could sense her emotions just fine though; she said it like a child told to return her Christmas present.


    ''That''s fine, Artoria. If anything, I''m the one who least needs training equipment.'' I sighed but handed her my pokenav. "I''ll deal. Give me three sets of fitted weights for my pokemon, please. That''ll still leave me with around 3,600 for emergencies."


    "Sure, kid. But hey, how about this? I''ll let you purchase your own gear for twelve hundred if you do me a favor, eh?"


    "Can you do that?"


    She shrugged. "I own this joint. Or really, me and my hubby, but close enough."


    "Alright, what''s the favor?"


    "Well, see, my husband and I want to advertise the store a bit more, you know? There''s a small thing on the beach two days from now, kind of a cross between a town fair and a block party, where we''ll be opening a booth. There''ll be booths, games, hawkers, beachside sports, the whole shebang. I want you and your pokemon to help us out. If you do, I''ll forget about those seven hundred credits."


    "Pass. That''s a full day of training we''re losing out on and I''m battling Norman in three days."


    "It won''t be the full day, just from nine to about three in the afternoon. Besides, do you really want to train just the day before battling a gym leader?"


    I considered it. She wasn''t wrong, and I did say it''d be a shame to not explore the city. A block party seemed interesting enough. Still, seven hundred credits was about the equivalent of seventy dollars for six hours of work. "I don''t know¡­ Pay isn''t bad but I feel like I could do more to prep for my battle than save a few hundred."


    "Hmm, tell you what? Dave, my husband, has a hitmonchan who helps demonstrate the exercise equipment. He used to take Archie, his hitmonchan, out to different boxing competitions, still does when he can find the time. I''ll call him up and ask if he''d be willing to teach your mankey a thing or two. How''s that for a deal then?"


    This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.


    I grinned wide. That was more like it. Maybe it was arrogant to think so, but money was easy enough to come by. Expertise? That was a much rarer commodity and hitmonchan were really known for just one thing. "That''s a much better deal. I''ll even give you the seven hundred credits if you''re willing to extend the tutoring session for the three days while I''m here."


    "I''ll have to talk to Dave. How about you give me your pokenav number and I''ll get back to you? He should be free in about an hour or two."


    "Deal. Thanks, Mrs. Mulaney."


    "Julie, kid. ''Mrs. Mulaney makes me feel old."


    We shook on it and I walked out of that shop a much poorer, but happier man. Artoria walked by my side, satisfied with the outcome even if she wasn''t the main beneficiary. Jeanne bleated cheerfully and gave Durvasa a static-filled hug, which he promptly squirmed out of and onto my shoulder. He was of course the happiest of all; he knew there was only so much he could learn from observing a video on the net.


    I did have to curb my own enthusiasm though. Hitmonchan were intuitive experts at boxing, but that didn''t automatically make all of them masters. Archie retired from regular battling to help his trainer run the sporting goods store. I wasn''t sure what he would be able to teach Durvasa, but I''d be sure to get my money''s worth.


    X


    We hung around the shopping district and visited a few more stores before Dave called me back. He called me out to Riverside Park, a series of recreational areas that had been sectioned off from the rest of the Touka River Delta by the city. Awfully derivative name aside, it was a beautiful oasis of nature in an otherwise urban area. A series of canals, both natural and manmade, made it feel like a small archipelago. Each little island had something different, from playgrounds and bird baths, to flowerbeds and the occasional dirt battlefield. I even saw a basketball field and a tennis court.


    I found Dave on one of the practice fields dedicated to trainers. He was a tall, broad-shouldered man in his late-twenties with a goatee and a bald head. If the hitmonchan at his side wasn''t enough of a clue, he wore his store uniform.


    "Hi, Dave? I''m Aaron," I said as I walked up to him. "Julie said you agreed to give Durvasa here a few pointers before our match with Norman."


    "That I did." Contrary to his appearance, he had an unexpectedly soft voice that reminded me of dad''s bedtime stories. He sounded like he''d be good at singing. He patted his hitmonchan on the shoulder. The punching pokemon nodded down at my mankey and jabbed the air in rapid succession. "This here is Archie. He and I used to be a gym trainer out west in Dewford. We''re not the best or anything, but we know enough to show a rookie fighting type the ropes."


    "We appreciate any advice you care to give us."


    "Man," Durvasa let out a soft bark in agreement. I was glad. I''d wondered if, with a mankey''s temperament, he''d have been willing to take advice from others who weren''t "in the troupe."


    "Alright, to start, let me see what you and that mankey can do. We''ll have a mock battle so I can get a sense of what you need."


    "Sounds good."


    That was how Durvasa ended up fighting a hitmonchan.


    Needless to say, Durvasa had his ass handed to him. Repeatedly and with great enthusiasm. Not only was Archie as tall as a grown man, he had the speed to easily keep up with the nimble pig monkey and the experience to see through any tricks or dirty fighting. No matter what Durvasa tried, Archie was able to counter him with ease.


    In the end, Durvasa lost himself to frustration and abandoned all forms and tactics in favor of berserk Fury Swipes that Archie evaded with a mix of what I assumed was Detect and Quick Guard. The retaliatory Mach Punch knocked my mankey flat on his ass and out of his berserk haze.


    "Sorry about that," I apologized. "Durvasa is working very hard to control his anger, but I guess he just can''t help it when he feels too overwhelmed."


    Dave shrugged. "No harm no foul. It''s not the first time I''ve seen a mankey lose control and yours held out a lot longer than I expected."


    "Right, Dewford."


    "Yup. That place is a fighting specialist''s paradise. You can even find pokemon from as far out as Kalos and Alola there. Archie, what do you think of the little guy?"


    "Hitmonchan. Hii¡­ Hitmon-chan," the boxer said with a careful nod.


    Dave nodded understandingly. Like Ash and his Pikachu, it wasn''t unusual for trainers to learn to interpret their pokemon''s speech. "Yeah, little fella''s got potential. A bit short-tempered, but that isn''t anything we didn''t already expect coming into this."


    "So what does that mean for us then?"


    "Well¡­ Your mankey''s young. I''d say a few years old at most in the wild and you haven''t been training him long either. We''re also only going to be teaching you for a few days. Under the circumstances, I don''t recommend trying to learn anything overly complicated but I''m open to ideas. What do you think your mankey needs most?"


    My thoughts immediately went towards the moves I knew hitmonchan and mankey shared: Dynamic Punch, Close Combat, and Focus Punch came to mind as the strongest fighting type moves available. I eliminated them one by one. Like Dave said, Durvasa was young and high-power moves like that placed a lot of stress on the body. There was a reason they were often the last moves learned by a pokemon. Or in the case of Focus Punch, I felt Durvasa could pick it up on his own in good order.


    And then there were the elemental punches. Any of them would grant Durvasa some much-needed coverage. Ice and electric were especially useful to shore up one of his primary weaknesses to flying types. Still, as useful as those would be, I didn''t think they were necessary right this moment. For that matter, Durvasa had a hard enough time working out his own fighting type aura. I didn''t want him splitting his focus to try to learn an elemental punch he didn''t currently need. In fact, even if I wanted to optimize Durvasa''s training for gym badges, he would only benefit from knowing Thunder Punch against Winona and Wallace, two leaders I wouldn''t be seeing for months if not a full year.


    I shook my head. Those were great, but with the time we had, I wondered if it''d be best to learn something more immediately applicable. "What Durvasa needs most is a strong foundation. I tried to teach him what I knew of hand to hand combat, but there are a lot of gaps. I''m more concerned with that than I am about getting him a new move to play with."


    "Slow and steady route, huh? That''s not bad, but your mankey isn''t a human. He can take a lot more punishment than a human athlete can, and so grows a lot faster too. But you''re not wrong being cautious either. Learning a move he''s not ready for isn''t good for him," Dave said. He scratched his goatee in thought before speaking. "How''s this? I''ll have Archie teach him some basic footwork. At the same time, he can pick up your choice of Power-Up Punch or Detect."


    I glanced down at Durvasa. "You do what you want, bud. Would you rather have something to hit harder, or to avoid getting hit?"


    My mankey looked down at his fists, clearly conflicted. He stalked up to the hitmonchan and held his fist out, whether in question or challenge, I didn''t know. "Man-mankey. Man?"


    "Hitmon."


    "Man."


    ''He asked the boxer which was more important to him,'' Artoria translated. ''The boxer said strength means nothing if his fists cannot reach his opponent. By the same principle, he himself does not need to be the strongest if he can avoid his opponent''s blows. Evasion is further useful because it allows him to close the distance against a ranged opponent more effectively than simply muscling through.''


    ''I take it Durvasa wants to learn Detect?''


    ''Indeed, my lord.''


    ''Thanks, Artoria.''


    "Looks like he''s made his decision," Dave said.


    "Yeah. Durvasa would like to learn Detect from Archie."


    "We can do that, work in the training for Detect along with general footwork. Ready to get started now?"


    "Man!" Durvasa cheered. He spent all morning scrapping in the field behind the pokemon center but was eager to get right back into it.


    Then, to both our surprise, Archie plopped down on the ground. He patted the dirt in front of him in a clear sign that Durvasa should join him.


    "Umm, what happened to footwork?" I asked Dave.


    "First things first, you gotta know what fighting energy is," he explained. "Aura. Ki. Fighting spirit. It doesn''t really matter what you call it, but you do need to understand how to access it. I assume Archie''s going to teach Durvasa the basics of what they taught in Dewford. What makes a jab different from a Mach Punch? Why is that energy so important and where does it come from? It won''t take long but you may as well take a seat. A good fighter uses his head too."


    I doubted that was what Durvasa was expecting, but he sat down with only minor grumbling. I wasn''t surprised when Artoria joined him; this was exactly the sort of thing she was interested in.


    I worked with Jeanne on her Agility while my other two pokemon got lectured to by a hitmonchan. Really, I drew a circle in the ground and told her to remain in the area while evading my bokken. That drew some dirty looks from passersby, hitting a cute lamb with a stick probably didn''t look good, but it wasn''t hard to explain what was happening.


    From what Artoria told me, the hitmonchan''s understanding of aura was mostly similar to what she''d been taught under Quinn. Quinn saw fighting type aura as the manifestation of his knightly oaths, a literal "strength of my convictions" sort of deal. He believed that as a knight, he was strongest when upholding those oaths. Archie saw it as mere "fighting spirit" without any dedication to a higher cause. The hitmonchan enjoyed fighting simply for fighting''s sake and saw it as a validation of his efforts towards self-improvement.


    ''You know you''re not likely to be able to use Archie''s teachings, right?'' I told her.


    ''I find his perspective to be interesting in itself. As a reasonably accomplished pugilist, his understanding of aura is different from my father''s, which is in itself different from psychic aura as described by my lady mother or the fairy aura I am trying to grasp now. Father and I have similar views on drawing out our inner strength, but I do not believe Archie''s desire for self-improvement is incorrect either.''


    ''Are you hoping you can get a better understanding of fairy aura if you examine other energy types?''


    ''I am, and even if I learn nothing applicable from this, you did say I should broaden my horizons.''


    ''So I did, Artoria. So I did.''


    X


    So two days passed. Mornings and evenings were spent running ourselves into the ground, with evenings in particular being rough for Durvasa. After Archie got his lecture out of the way, he taught Durvasa a handful of footwork drills, made sure the mankey could perform each pattern, then threw rocks at him while calling out different drill numbers. He even enlisted Jeanne, who took sadistic joy in using her teammate for target practice while he could only dodge using specific patterns. The goal was to ingrain the basics into him so that footwork became something he no longer needed to think about.


    That was how Dave and Archie found out Durvasa could use Focus Energy in motion. The principle to Detect was similar, an "expanding of the senses" until one was aware of their surroundings as intimately as they were of their own hands and feet. Archie described it as a zone or sphere around him. Attacks that were too fast could hit him before he could react, but the added awareness gave Archie the space to avoid most forms of damage.


    When Archie figured out that Durvasa was using Focus Energy to sharpen his senses, he stopped holding back nearly as much. The little pebbles came at blistering speeds and punished Durvasa for even the tiniest mistake in footing. It would have been torturous for a human to be put through that; my little terror thrived in it.


    By the end of his training, Durvasa could use Detect with some level of skill. More importantly, he''d fully integrated the swaying and weaving patterns of a boxer into his own, nimble style, making him even harder to hit.


    We walked to the sandbar where the beachside block party was to take place. We''d received a lot from David Mulaney; it was only fair that we returned the favor. That the couple just wanted us to wear the store logo, pass out flyers, and draw in a few customers was an easy sell. We needed to keep things light for the match with Norman tomorrow anyway.


    Author''s Note


    The sandshrew is a nod to the very first macho brace we see in the anime. A circus boy named AJ uses one to give his sandshrew a workout.


    I''m probably grossly fucking up the money thing but ehh. Let''s just say that the pokemon world is in a state where minimum wage is still a livable wage, you know, kind of like back in the 1950s or so.


    Dave''s hitmonchan is named after Archie Moore, not Archie the Aqua Exec. Archie Moore was an incredibly talented boxer. Though he''s not as well-known as Ali or Tyson, he is the record-holder for the longest-reigning World Light Heavyweight Champion of all time (1952-1962).


    I''m thinking there''ll be one more chapter before Norman and then move on from Petalburg.


    Thank you for reading. To reach a wider audience, and because I enjoy a more forum-like setup to facilitate discussion, I like to crosspost to a wide variety of websites. You can find them all on my Link Tree: https://linktr.ee/fabled.webs.</a>

 4.4 Fish

    Aaron''s Pokemon


    - Artoria (Kirlia)


    - Jeanne (Flaaffy)


    - Durvasa (Mankey)


    Fish 4.4


    Aaron Fulan


    Petalburg City


    We showed up at the beach half an hour early to set up. In fact, we just ended our usual morning run there instead of running laps at the pokemon center. Jeanne and Durvasa looked around curiously as we wandered through the tents and booths being erected. They hadn''t ever visited the Slateport Flea Market so this was the first time they''d seen a popup event like this.


    Julia had sounded a little confused about what to call it and I could see why. On one hand, it was like a town fair, with games, art stations, and food, but there was also a mercantile air to the place. I picked up a brochure at the information booth and found that this was something that happened every month, a way for the city to foster a sense of community while drawing in the traveling crowd.


    The Mulaney''s Sporting Goods booth was allotted space at the junction where stores ended and sports began. Julia and David were setting up a tent and unloading merchandise from the back of a truck. To their left was an outdoor gym similar to ones found in Muscle Beach back in my old life. Already, I could see several people and pokemon working out there.


    "Hey, good morning," I called. "That''s an interesting setup. I didn''t know Petalburg had something like this."


    "Morning," the couple greeted back. Julia waved me over to a collapsible table so we could unfold the thing. "It''s pretty small compared to the one in Dewford. Those guys have an outdoor gym that covers an entire stretch of beach. They host weekly martial arts or lifting competitions there too."


    "Yeah, fun times. The gym there doesn''t always get involved, but a few generations of fighting type specialists in a town like that and I guess it bled over into the culture there," Dave said, "and not just for pokemon either. There was a pretty neat sumo demonstration last I was there. You might want to check it out if you''re visiting for your badge."


    "I''ll keep that in mind," I said.


    We worked mostly in silence as the four of us added some extra hands. The Mulaneys had brought along frisbees, volleyballs, tension bands, and other, smaller bits of equipment that could easily be enjoyed on the beach. My pokemon and I spent most of the morning helping them out before the couple forced me into a store uniform and told me to go advertise.


    "Go advertise" meant I was given a frisbee and told to play with my pokemon. I started a pickup game between myself, a few of the local boys, and our pokemon, making sure the logo was prominently visible. Durvasa and Artoria loved running in the sand for the additional resistance that it provided. Jeanne, not so much. My little diva hated getting grains of sand stuck in her fur and I had a feeling she''d pout until I spent a few hours brushing it all out tonight. Either that, or she''d sleep on my face with her sandy fur. One way or another, she''d make it my problem.


    When too many people got involved for a single frisbee, I pointed stragglers towards the tent so they could get their own. Our little advertisement campaign worked. Before the morning got too hot, I was able to convince several people to visit the booth and pick up some toys of their own.


    I returned at around ten-thirty in the morning to hand back the frisbee. Dave replaced it with a stack of flyers. "Go ahead and pass those out. Then feel free to go get lunch or check out the other booths," he told me.


    "Thanks. Any suggestions?"


    "They''re holding sporting events all throughout the day, but I think the signup period for the volleyball tournament is already over."


    "That''s fine. I''m not a big fan of volleyball anyway and we''ve been running around all morning."


    "Then, if you''re hungry, look for Lou''s Smokehouse. He''s a friend of mine who moved from Melemele Island a few years back and started a traditional Alolan barbeque joint. Tell him I sent you and he might give you a discount."


    "Huh, thanks, that sounds interesting. What''s the difference between Alolan and Hoenn barbeque?"


    "Alolan barbecue has a lot of pork and poultry whereas we prefer beef here. We both love seafood though thanks to our coastlines. They tend to rely heavily on steaming meats in satchels made of nanab berry leaves filled with herbs and dried berries and whatnot. Their preferred sauce also has a bit more sour tang and heat than normal because of a few tropical berries that grow more abundantly there."


    I nodded happily. It sounded like Alolan barbeque had some similarities to Hawaiian kalua pork from my old world. I had the privilege of eating the genuine article once and remembered enjoying it. "Sounds good. I''ll check it out, Dave. Thanks, for this and for all the training."


    "You''re all right, kid. Now get out of here."


    I gave him an easygoing salute and headed off, my pokemon following in my wake.


    X


    He was right. Lou''s Smokehouse was amazing, though he admitted he wasn''t strictly traditional. He''d gotten the idea of combining Hoenn and Alolan traditions by smoking the satchels instead of steaming them in underground ovens. The result was a savory, smoky, pull-apart meat that dissolved in my mouth.


    Even Jeanne got to try something new in the form of smoked mushrooms and seaweed salad, though she admittedly didn''t enjoy that nearly as much as the rest of us enjoyed our meat. I made it up to her with her favorite plant jerky.


    "So, does anything catch your eyes?" I asked, speaking out loud for my two non-telepaths.


    "Man-mankey," Durvasa pointed out a bunch of people standing around a length of thick, sturdy rope.


    "What is it?"


    "Key."


    "Tug of war. It''s a game where people stand on opposite sides and try to pull the opposing team over the line. It''s supposed to be a contest of strength, but there is a bit of technique to it as well in the way you apply leverage. Want to check it out?"


    "Mankey," he nodded with an excited grin. Trust a fighting type to go in for the brawniest challenge he could find.


    "Flaaf," Jeanne bleated. She looked out over the warm sand with distaste. "Flaaffy¡­"


    "Come on, Jeanne," I coaxed. "You''re going to get sand in your fur just by sticking near the beach anyway. The wind will carry it over so just enjoy it. I''ll make sure you get a proper bath tonight, okay?"


    "Flaaffy¡­"


    "Kirlia-lia," Artoria said, probably something chiding. Her spoon glowed and expanded with Reflect, rapidly gaining surface area. Before Jeanne could react, she swung her spoon and gently pressed the back of the bowl into her tummy before lifting her clear into the air.


    "Flaaf!" she bleated in shock and betrayal as she hung like laundry off the back of Artoria''s spoon, her stubby legs too short to reach the ground.


    "Kir," Artoria trilled smugly. She stepped out into the sand so that Jeanne would have to bathe in it if she wanted to escape.


    "Flaaf¡­"


    ''I have acquired the whiner. I wish to compete as well,'' Artoria said in my mind, somehow managing to look prim and proper despite walking in sand dunes as high as her knees with a quasi-lamb slung over her shoulder.


    ''You know she''s going to lick your mega stone again, right?''


    ''Then she will know suffering.''


    I shook my head in fond exasperation. Seeing the pouting looks Jeanne was sending me, I reached down and gave her a pat on the head. "How about we check out the live music stage after this?"


    "Flaaf?"


    "Yup, promise. We''ll do something you like too."


    "Flaaf. Flaaffy."


    The four of us walked, or hung, our way over to the organizer of the event, a man in a lifeguard outfit and a hydrodynamic float slung over his back. He looked us over and nodded. "Hey, you looking to join the tug of war?"


    "We are," I confirmed. "Any rules?"


    "No pokemon heavier than fifty pounds. Other than that, anything else is fine. Oh, and no humans. This next one is just going to be for pokemon, with teams of ten on each side."


    "Huh, alright. I guess weight classes make some sense. Any restrictions on types? Can we use moves?"


    He looked down at my kirlia. "Ehh, not officially, no. We don''t have many rules. This isn''t an official competition or anything, just for fun. Don''t attack anyone obviously. Actually, don''t do anything to interfere with your opponents, which includes lifting them up with Psychic, dousing them in powders, or something like that. Oh, and if your pokemon physically lets go of the rope for any reason, they''re out and need to step away. We don''t really have any other rules."


    "Sweet," I looked down at my team. "Durvasa and Artoria, my mankey and kirlia, will be joining a team."


    He waved me over to a crowd of people and pokemon who were milling about. "Sure, man, just wait around there for a few minutes and make teams on your own."


    As we walked over, Jeanne waved her stubby arms up at me. "Flaaf."


    I rolled my eyes but picked her up anyway. Her fur was a bit warm for the weather but she felt nice to hug anyway. She clung to my torso like a koala and gave my cheek an affectionate lick. "You''re such a baby, you know that?"


    "Flaaf," she bleated smugly.


    ''You spoil her, my lord,'' my starter accused.


    ''I do, but she''s really soft. And cute. Besides, it''s not like she doesn''t try hard when she needs to.''


    ''True¡­ But it is my job to enforce discipline on this team.''


    ''Is it, now?''


    ''Of course. As your second-in-command, I must be the disciplinarian. My teammates would not work as hard otherwise.''


    ''Which leaves me the leeway to spoil them rotten,'' I finished for her.


    ''Which leaves you-No, that''s not what I''m saying!''


    ''Heh, relax, today is a day of rest, remember? Do some light work and check out the sights before the gym battle tomorrow.''


    ''Oh, very well, my lord.''


    ''Stop acting like you''re allergic to fun. You''re not going to break out in hives if you let Jeanne relax for a day.''


    ''We don''t know that, better not risk it,'' Artoria said with a sarcastic smirk. Truly, my little knight picked up the worst sorts of habits.


    If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    Five minutes later, we had our team. I stood on the sidelines with Jeanne in my arms as we watched Durvasa tie their end of the rope to a geodude. Yes, that was allowed. The geodude had to be weighed, but the not-so-little pebble came in at a chonky forty-nine pounds. She, female according to her trainer, slammed her arms into the sand and acted as our primary anchor. My own pokemon moved to the front of the line, nearest to the divider.


    There was a bit of confusion over a kirlia willing to compete in physical exercise, next to a mankey at that, but the other team shrugged it off as a free win. They were the ones who insisted she stand up front though, just so she''d be more obvious if she started glowing blue or something.


    I rolled my eyes; people were so competitive. Unfortunately, my two muscleheads weren''t excluded from that. They got sucked into the competition more than any other pokemon and I knew for a fact Artoria intended to use her psychic power.


    ''It''s not cheating,'' she sniffed. ''I''m still pulling against them. I just happen to reinforce my body instead of hampering my opponents. The judge did say anything was allowed as long as I didn''t influence my opponents.''


    ''Yeah, they probably designed the competition for stuff like that. Somehow, I don''t think they''re quite ready for you, though.''


    "Okay, let''s get started," the lifeguard-turned-emcee called. "For bragging rights in the peewee division, are we ready? Set¡­ Go!"


    The opposite team took the initial lead thanks to a croagunk that literally kicked off the match with an explosive leap. Though Artoria was tugged forward a little, her footing was sure and their anchor geodude more than up to the task of acting as a counterweight. The real threat on the other team was an ambipom who had decided to act as their anchor, digging all four limbs into the dirt while grabbing and pulling with both tails.


    The two teams went back and forth as their strength waxed and waned. Then, the ambipom''s tail-hands glowed with a subtle, white light. With a single flex, it dragged the entire team forward four steps, almost dragging Artoria across the line.


    "Is that Iron Tail?" I heard a voice call it out. He was a kid about my age in sky-blue swimming trunks. "That''s not fair!"


    "It is," the ambipom''s trainer yelled back. "He''s still pulling, isn''t he?"


    "Yeah, well, kecleon, use Rock Tomb to make footholds for your team!"


    "That''s so not fair!"


    "So''s using Iron Tail, you jerk!"


    The competition admittedly got a lot more interesting after that. To be fair, the emcee did say anything was fine so long as you didn''t interfere with your opponent. He stood back with an amused smile on his face as people started getting creative.


    Then, he brought the megaphone to his lips. "Red team''s croagunk is out! You cannot let go of the rope!"


    "Huh, clever rule, keeps most pokemon from using their best moves," I muttered. Seconds later, an undersized nuzleaf was eliminated when it tripped over one of the created footholds and let go of the rope.


    ''Go nuts, Artoria. We both know this is what you were waiting for.''


    ''I shall,'' she sent back with an eager, downright bloodthirsty grin. It was subtle, but I was accustomed to sensing psychic energy by now. The meditite on the other team similarly narrowed his eyes at Artoria. Then, her emotional aura flared white with determination before she began to pull in earnest.


    The meditite on the opposing team responded in equal measure, his body flaring blue. For teams made on the spot, it was an unexpectedly close game.


    One of the primary lessons taught to psychics at the Mossdeep Gym was that subtlety was key. Flashy lights, rising temperatures, and sudden pressure could be impactful and intimidating, but mom taught every one of her pupils that they were also wastes of energy. Hell, mom was best known for soundless, lightless teleportation, and the whole "Oracle of Mossdeep" stuff. Control was a psychic''s best friend. Discipline was the hallmark of power. True skill was found in the silence, not the noise.


    Naturally, Artoria, who learned at the lap of Alice, a gardevoir who herself exemplified the subtler aspects of psychic combat, internalized that lesson growing up. It was also one I''d reinforced again and again. I had her practice extending the reach of her spoon with Reflect and Light Screen for hours at a time until energy economy was second nature to her. I had her practicing Mana Burst to expend all her power in a single, decisive moment and not an instant before.


    Which was to say, unless you could directly feel psychic aura or happened to be an empath, Artoria looked more or less the same whether she was using her power or not. To all who were watching, the meditite glowed blue with exertion, but other than a subtle shine around her eyes that was all but invisible in the sun, Artoria looked like she was tugging on the rope normally.


    "Kirlia!" she yelled as she focused psychic aura into her feet. She allowed herself to be pulled forward so she could brace against the premade footholds.


    "Mankey!" Durvasa responded. As far as he was concerned, Artoria was troupe-leader.


    "Kir. Li. Aa!"


    Then, at her signal, they pulled back. Artoria launched herself with an all-out Mana Burst, turning the foothold beneath the sands into powder and sending a column of sand into the air as she flew into Durvasa who''d readied himself to catch her. It looked like a bomb had gone off on our end of the field.


    The ambipom''s grip slipped at the sudden tension. It rolled forward with nothing to hold. Losing their anchor caused a rippling chain reaction that sent the rest of the opposing team, those who hadn''t been eliminated for letting go of the rope, to shoot clear into the air and past the divider.


    The emcee blew his whistle, letting out a shrill bark that ended the game. "And the blue team is victorious! That''s a hell of a mankey you got there, man," he said to me with a hearty clap on the shoulder.


    I blinked uncomprehendingly. "Huh?"


    "That mankey, he''s your pokemon, right? And the kirlia? The little fella yanked her clear off her feet."


    I caught onto what he was talking about pretty quickly. He thought Durvasa pulled hard enough to destabilize everyone, and Artoria, being nearest, was flung into him. I quashed down a giggle as my two pokemon plodded back to me with proud grins. "Yeah, they''re mine."


    "Your mankey must have trained really hard to get that strong. What was it? Bulk Up? Had to be to output that much explosive power all at once."


    "Would you believe it was my kirlia that''s that strong?"


    "What? No way, I know what Psychic looks like, my kid sis has a kirlia too, and she wasn''t using anything." He crouched down and held out a fist for Durvasa to bump. "You''re a tough little guy."


    "Man? Mankey?" Durvasa barked in confusion. He shrugged and accepted the fist bump. "Man."


    I laughed as Artoria realized what he was saying. The face she made when she realized everyone thought Durvasa was the MVP and she''d just been dead weight made me bust out laughing all the harder.


    ''It''s not funny, my lord!'' she said, stamping her feet into the sand.


    ''Hahahaha, I mean¡­ it kinda is.''


    ''Please correct him. I refuse to be thought of as dead weight!''


    ''Fine, fine.'' I coughed to get his attention. "It really was Artoria. My kirlia is pretty unusual and likes martial arts so she''s been practicing a move that gives her a lot of explosive power."


    He frowned in confusion as he looked at the dainty and admittedly frail-looking kirlia to the more traditional fighting pokemon. "Really? No way."


    "Yes way. And she''s pretty upset that people think she was dead weight."


    "Huh, sorry, little girl," he said to her.


    "Kir," she sniffed, running to my side. She eyed him judgingly. "Kirlia."


    Beside her, Durvasa and Jeanne sniggered teasingly. They knew she''d kick their asses over training, she could be surprisingly petty when her pride was wounded, but they also didn''t mind. It wasn''t often the two of them got to laugh at her after all.


    ''Not funny.''


    ''Way funny. One of these days, you''ll see the humor in it.''


    ''Hmph, even my lord is mocking me.''


    ''Only because I love you.''


    ''I would like to play a different game to prove my individual prowess.''


    ''Really?''


    ''Of course,'' she insisted. ''I must salvage my dignity.''


    ''Fine, but after checking out the live music. I did promise after all. And then we''ll see if the Mulaneys need anything else from us.''


    ''Very well, my lord.''


    X


    Jeanne liked square dancing. Or, the closest equivalent I found in this world. A group of eight dancers stood on stage and stomped around in heavy boots that made clip-clopping sounds reminiscent of hooves to the beat. I wasn''t sure if it was the rapid-fire banjo strumming or the general festive mood, but Jeanne enjoyed herself immensely, even spinning around to mimic the performers.


    I was starting to realize Jeanne didn''t have a preference for music. She enjoyed anything with a recognizable beat and melody, from Onale''s hurdy gurdy to this banjo or some of the rock bands I''d shown her. It made me want to research that tesla coil music more.


    We stuck around for four songs, about fifteen minutes, before looking for a game to rebuild Artoria''s demolished pride. That Durvasa hadn''t stopped snickering behind her back wasn''t likely to do him any favors later.


    We eventually found a carnival game that was set up like a soccer goal, where humans and human-sized pokemon could try to block shots. She left after setting the high score using her extended spoon like a lacrosse stick, though I was fairly sure the voucher for a parfait at a nearby cafe did as much to soothe her ego as her name on the scoreboard.


    My starter''s sense of honor mollified by sweets, we headed back to Mulaney''s and helped them out for a few more hours before Dave and Julia released us from our obligations. Really, working for them for a day wasn''t so bad, just about the best part-time job I''d ever had since we mostly spent that time playing with people to advertise the store. Like in most other cases, I found people in this world to be nicer than the ones from my past.


    I hadn''t bothered to check out the job boards for migrant trainers because my gym sponsorship was enough for living expenses, but maybe I''d give more of those requests a chance in the future. More than the money, I''d learned that there was a great deal of untapped potential in simply asking veterans for training.


    The four of us walked along the beach as the sun began to set. The sandbar wasn''t as vast as the one in Slateport, but the sand was just as soft. I''d long since put away my shoes. The sand had yet to fully lose the heat of the sun so felt wonderfully toasty as it sifted between my toes.


    "Durvasa, how are you feeling for the battle tomorrow?" I asked.


    "Man!" he barked with excited waves of his arms. He danced along the dunes, shadow-boxing the air and performing a footwork routine Archie the hitmonchan had shown him. It looked crisp, sharp in a way that belied his relative inexperience. Had I seen it on a human, I would have guessed a few months of practice at least.


    "Nice form, looks good" I complimented. "Just remember to keep your focus over anything, alright? Whatever Norman tries, don''t let it get to your head. Focus Energy is too important to lose just because you got a little angry."


    "Man-mankey."


    "And as for the two of you, the second badge might be a two on two depending on if Norman can spare a third pokemon for the day or not. Artoria, Jeanne, which one of you wants to battle?"


    "Kir," Artoria nodded, always eager. She knew Norman was one of the stronger gym leaders.


    "Flaaf," Jeanne bleated. Her tail flickered on and off as she hung off my shoulders. I took that to mean the equivalent of a shrug.


    "Don''t care much, Jeanne?"


    "Flaaffy."


    ''She wishes for me to have the chance as she participated in the contest in Oldale. Do you think we will see a vigoroth?'' Artoria asked excitedly.


    "A vigoroth¡­" I muttered aloud. "I doubt it. He''s only testing us at the second badge level, which probably means he''s going to stick to the more generic normal types unfortunately. It should be enough to give Durvasa a good fight. Expect zigzagoon, taillow, whismur, and the like. Maybe we''ll see a zangoose? Or a stantler?"


    "Flaaffy. Flaaf-flaa¡­"


    ''A pity, my lord. I would have enjoyed facing one of Leader Norman''s stronger fighters.''


    ''I don''t think we''re ready for those,'' I said truthfully.


    Though slaking were as feared in Hoenn as snorlax were in Indigo, it was their progeny that were the real threats in Petalburg Woods. A slaking would leave you alone for the most part so long as you didn''t do anything worthy of the Darwin Awards or it wasn''t mating season when they got super-territorial.


    Vigoroth were far more energetic and enthusiastic, eager to get into fights against damn near anything that moved, and sometimes even things that didn''t move. There was a video floating around of a vigoroth slashing at a rock for thirty minutes. Why? Because it had the audacity to shift its shade away from the napping pokemon. They were weaker than slaking, sure, but their trigger temper, tenacity, and aggression made them some of the most dangerous predators around. It was a good thing they required so much food, making them rare in the wild.


    I could see Artoria taking down a wild vigoroth with a lot of effort. One trained personally by Norman? Likely sired by his elite slaking? No, she wasn''t ready for that, no matter what she thought.


    ''You lack faith in me,'' Artoria said glumly. ''Is my training not enough?''


    ''When you can cut a mature tree in two with your spoon, maybe. Vigoroth are just bad news in general.''


    ''Then I will train all the harder.''


    ''You really don''t have to.'' Pulses of emotion, skepticism and determination, flooded my mind. ''I''m serious. We have one badge. You battle like you should be going for your third, maybe even your fourth. You''re progressing at a great pace and I''m proud of you.''


    She was silent for a long while. She stared off into the horizon as the waves lapped at the shore. ''My lord?''


    ''Yes, Artoria?''


    ''The world is truly vast.''


    ''It is.''


    ''I will rise above them all one day.''


    ''Yours is the spoon that shall scoop the heavens.''


    ''Your sense of humor is still terrible.''


    ''Lies. Tengen Toppa Gurren Lagann was a fantastic anime and its lines are pure gold.''


    ''A knight does not lie¡­ but it does have catchy lines,'' she admitted.


    We were interrupted from our banter by a familiar face. Frankie the watermelon waved us over with a big smile on his face. By his side, his roserade nibbled at a cotton candy bigger than its head. "Hey, Aaron, fancy seeing you here."


    "Hey, Frankie. I helped out at a booth and figured I''d spend the rest of the evening exploring before my gym battle. How about you?"


    "I came out to let Pepe, my pelipper, enjoy the sea." He waved generally towards the waves. "He''s out there somewhere, maybe finding a lady friend while he''s at it. I was on my way back to the pokemon center to release the evening weather balloon actually."


    "Huh, nice. How''s that going?"


    "Clear skies all around. No building fronts or much else to say. Hey! I just remembered," he exclaimed. He dug around in his pocket and produced a ticket. "I was walking around earlier and won a raffle for an evening cruise. Do you want it? I figure I owe you for the pokemon center and everything so¡­"


    "You know the Weather Institute will pay me back, right?"


    "Yeah, but that''s them. I''m the one who got a bed out of it so take it. It''s not like I can attend since I have a job to do."


    "True¡­ Thanks, Frankie, I appreciate it."


    "Don''t get your hopes up too much though. It''s not really a pleasure cruise, just a small boat that''s towed by a blastoise and a lapras. There''s supposed to be a tentacool bloom tonight though so that should be pretty to look at."


    "Can you predict tentacool blooms?" I asked curiously. "I thought that was just what they called a bunch of jellyfish in one place."


    "Yup. Warm weather, calm skies, and good algae content can be the catalyst. Around this time of year, a bunch of tentacool gather off the southern shores of Hoenn and mate."


    "Huh, nice. I might check it out. Thanks again, Frankie."


    "No problem, Aaron. You take care now."


    Author''s Note


    I never expected to write that much about a tug of war game, but here I am¡­


    Not much to say. I feel like I write too much of the slice of life sometimes and not enough action, but I also kinda like it this way.


    Thank you for reading. To reach a wider audience, and because I enjoy a more forum-like setup to facilitate discussion, I like to crosspost to a wide variety of websites. You can find them all on my Link Tree: https://linktr.ee/fabled.webs.</a>

 4.5 Fish

    Aaron''s Pokemon


    - Artoria (Kirlia)


    - Jeanne (Flaaffy)


    - Durvasa (Mankey)


    Fish 4.5


    Aaron Fulan


    Petalburg City


    The sun had begun to set and many of the booths were starting to pack up shop. With my obligation to Mulaney''s Sporting Goods finished, I was free to enjoy what was left of the block party with my pokemon. The four of us walked along the beach, laughing along with some baby pokemon who got to ride inside a pelipper''s mouth. A sentret was currently dangled in the not-pelican''s beak pouch and showed not a whit of fear.


    I wondered how long it''d taken for the trainer, a warm, elderly woman, to teach the bird not to automatically swallow prey-sized items that voluntarily crawled in its pouch like that. Pelipper were intelligent, true, but instinct was instinct and couldn''t always be ignored or suppressed.


    Then again, maybe that was the beauty and duty of being trainers, to teach pokemon to rise above predator-prey dynamics. Or perhaps the pelipper simply liked younglings.


    ''Or perhaps the pelipper was merely fed judiciously a few minutes prior,'' Artoria pointed out wanly.


    ''True. The simple answers do tend to be correct.''


    The relationship between pokemon and humans never ceased to wow me even after thirteen years on this world. It was paradoxical, at times predatory and exploitative, yet also cooperative and benign, sometimes simultaneously. It was like people and pokemon had come to a mutual understanding that relationships between individuals ought to take precedence over the dynamics between species.


    People sometimes ate one miltank but raised another as a starter. They treated some pokemon like tools and others like dear friends, sometimes even akin to spouses or siblings. This paradox flowed likewise for pokemon. I''d heard of houndoom packs that''d happily run down and feast upon foreign trainers but protect local lumberjacks, wild mareep herds that would willingly go to towns to get themselves sheared while otherwise acting territorial and hostile when encountered at all other times.


    Utterly baffling. Where did instinct end and relationships begin?


    ''I do not believe there is a clear answer, my liege,'' Artoria said.


    ''You''re right of course. I''m sure it differs based on species and individuals. Or maybe I''m thinking of it all wrong and instincts are such an ingrained part of our relationships that there is no separating the two.''


    We chatted idly about whatever caught our fancy. Artoria broke off briefly to chide Durvasa when he threw sand at Jeanne as a prank, only for Jeanne''s retaliatory Thunder Wave to strike her. The resulting three-way brawl left me apologizing to nearby beachgoers for the hassle. Rather than try to stop them by force, I walked over to one of the booths that were still open and ordered a pretzel.


    Tearing it into three, I called, "Quit fighting, you lot, your snack''s getting cold!"


    If there was one thing I could trust about my team, it was that they''d all adopted Artoria''s mantra: Hunger was the enemy. Knight, idol, sage, it mattered not. Not one of them could deny their stomachs. When one ate, the other two pouted until they got their shares as well. Truly, they weren''t much different from children in that regard.


    After a quick snack, the four of us continued on our way until we reached the pier. There, we found a familiar face, Larry. He was the man who battled Durvasa with a fresh-caught corsola before. Now that I thought of it, he did mention having a lapras and giving rides to tourists. I decided I may as well say hello.


    "Larry, right? How''s it going?" I called.


    The daytime heat had long since died down but the old sailor still had his sunhat. "Hey, you''re that kid with the mankey. Here for a ride?"


    I glanced behind him. He had a lapras and a blastoise as well as what could best be described as a plastic raft. It looked like any other sailboat, if the boat had been squashed until the edge of the hull was only three or four feet above water. Everything save the rudder that belonged on a typical boat had been scooped out, replaced with seats that lifted up to reveal lockers and coolers. Instead, a large harness was bolted onto the front, where either the lapras or blastoise could use it to easily drag the raft along.


    Inside the raft, I could see a mother and two children, boy and girl, as well as a young couple who seemed to be using the raft as a way to cap off their date. At their feet was a skitty chasing its own tail, delighted with the way the raft bobbed on the waves.


    "A ride, huh?" I glanced at the pokenav. It was a bit past six, dinnertime, but with all the snacks we''d been nibbling on throughout the day, I didn''t think any of us would be hungry anytime soon. "Where''s the raft go?"


    "Nowhere special, just a lap around the city shoreline and then out to sea for two hours. Feel free to bring food along for a moonlit picnic. You just can''t throw anything overboard."


    ""Sure, why not? Sounds like a good way to close the day. I have this voucher. Will it cover it?"


    "250 credits per person, 100 for small pokemon." He looked over the voucher Frankie gave me. "Yeah, that''ll do just fine instead. No fishing, you hear? The tentacool bloom is in season right now. Looks real pretty, but they''re not too keen on people disturbing them."


    "Is it safe to go out there then?" I asked. I remembered reading that in Australia, people closed the beaches because of jellyfish blooms. The most poisonous animal in the world was a damn-near invisible jellyfish, or something to that effect.


    "Yeah, it''s fine. They leave lapras and blastoise alone. Both are natural predators so if anything, I''m going to let them grab a snack or two. It''s just dangerous if you dive in. Don''t dive in."


    "Gotcha, I do like not getting poisoned."


    I handed over the voucher for us to reserve our spots and wandered off to buy four sandwiches for dinner later. By the time I returned, the raft had filled up a bit more with people and smaller pokemon. Most didn''t catch my interest, but a wingull kept glancing at my sandwich so I kept a close eye on it.


    The four of us took our seats nearest to the back ramp, with Jeanne to my right and Durvasa to my left. Artoria, I placed comfortably on my lap.


    She stiffened slightly and I could feel the waves of embarrassment from my ever-proper knight. She then looked around, found that no one was paying us any attention, and promptly sagged with relief.


    I hugged her close and began to absentmindedly run my fingers through her hair. She let out a humm of contentment, somewhere between a happy sigh and a musical trill. Her two crests pulsed gently with crimson light.


    She used to really enjoy being petted just at the base of her ruby horn when she was a ralts. Unfortunately, now that she''d evolved, she''d reached the "hugs aren''t manly" phase all teenage boys seemed to go through. Though, granted, with her it was more "hugs aren''t knightly" and she''d never been the type for public displays of affection.


    She wasn''t fooling anyone though. The ralts line was biologically hardwired to delight in affection, quite literally drawing sustenance from positive emotions. Even when Jeanne slobbered all over her, there was a significant part of my starter that relished the attention, no matter how much she tried to hide it under flustered outrage.


    I blamed Alice. Quinn too, but that was just the natural consequence of one helpless chuuni raising another chuuni. Alice though? She knew exactly what she was doing.


    Then, the peaceful moment was shattered by the excited squeal of a little girl. She''d been leaning up over the edge at the front of the raft, stroking Larry''s lapras with a look of wonder. She''d been at it for a while, at least as long as it took us to grab sandwiches, and the novelty of a lapras must have worn off because she looked around and found a new source of amusement: Artoria.


    "Oh, momma, look! She''s so cute!" she cried as she ran across the raft over to us.


    That did it. The moment was irreparably shattered. The contented haze that had surrounded my little knight dispersed like the morning mist. Her eyes shot wide open, darting about for an avenue of escape. Teleporter or not, she wasn''t about to just hop for shore so there was no escape.


    We were on a raft and Larry had made it clear that only three people were allowed on the lapras or blastoise at a time for spatial reasons. Those seats were already occupied.


    The girl, a brunette who looked to be a year or two older than the twins, ran over as fast as she could on a swaying vessel. She held her arms out wide with a big, cheerful grin like she expected Artoria to jump into her arms. "Come here, cutie! Ooh, I want to give you a hug. I have a pretty hair clip that''d look perfect in your hair!"


    I wasn''t the only empath. By all metrics, Artoria was naturally better than me. She could feel the raw amusement bubbling up from me; she once said it tasted a bit like bubblegum.


    She looked at the girl, then back at me. She knew my answer before she voiced her protest. I smiled down at her and sent her waves of affection and love. For once, the banquet of positivity only filled her with dawning horror.


    Naturally, I picked up my two feet tall starter by her armpits and placed her in the girl''s arms like a doll. I pulled out a comb, Jeanne''s mostly but Artoria did occasionally use it, and handed it over. Reaching over, I plucked the silver spoon from Artoria''s hands before she did something unwise in her frustration.


    "Here, she likes being brushed just between her crests," I told the girl, ignoring the look of supreme betrayal Artoria sent me.


    "Thanks! I''m May!"


    "Aaron. Have fun, okay? But you should go back to your mom before you fall. And Artoria, no teleporting away," I shut her down preemptively.


    Beside me, my two pokemon snickered with barely suppressed mirth. This was the real reason Artoria hated being held in public: If I did it, people seemed to take it as an open invitation that it was somehow okay for them to pet the adorable kirlia as well. At least May had the courtesy to ask first. I usually had no problem telling people no, but messing with Artoria was worth it once in a while.


    ''This is betrayal, my lord. This is treachery of the highest order,'' she chimed in my mind as she sent murderous glowers towards her teammates. She''d make them pay for laughing later. They knew that and she knew they knew, but that just meant they''d get their licks in while they could. ''Have I not served faithfully? Why have you handed over your faithful knight to this monster?''


    You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.


    ''Oh, don''t be so dramatic. She just wants to pamper you.''


    ''She is a ruthless beast of cuddles and positivity.''


    ''She''s just a little girl. A kirlia is like every little girl''s fantasy. What''s the harm in letting her indulge a bit?''


    ''My dignity. It dies a thousand deaths with each pass of the comb.''


    ''You know Alice plays with children occasionally too, right?''


    ''That''s because mother is the picture of grace and poise. And she is not being manhandled like a dress-up doll.''


    ''Fine, if you stop pouting and put up with it until she gets bored, I''ll buy us a parfait after the gym battle tomorrow.''


    ''... I will not be bribed with food¡­''


    ''A parfait and that poffin brand you like. A full six-pack, just for you.''


    She was silent for a long minute, which was how I knew I''d won. ''Oh, very well... But I suffer this indignity under protest!''


    I chuckled quietly. On the other side, the mother sent me a grateful nod. Artoria had opted to become as stiff as a board, refusing all attempts by the children to engage her. I could still hear her quiet grumblings in my mind, rendered all the more ineffectual by the small bursts of satisfaction when May brushed her hair just right.


    X


    Children being children, their attention spans weren''t exactly impressive and they let Artoria go in short order. Artoria herself being the equivalent of a tween, she of course treated the half hour as though she''d been sealed in solitary for a century. The moment they were distracted, she teleported to my lap and plopped herself down with a sulky huff.


    ''Have fun?'' I teased.


    ''I serve a cruel master.''


    I chuckled and turned my attention to the horizon. The sun had just begun to descend behind the horizon and orange and purple clouds drifted with the sea breeze. It was that magical time when the sun, moon, and stars shone under the same sky. There was something impossibly soothing about this moment. The raft and everyone on it ceased to matter as I bickered back and forth with my dearest friend.


    Next to us, Jeanne was seated on the rim of the ship, dangling her tail overboard in a futile attempt to touch the water. She hummed a tune under her breath that sounded a bit like the melody we''d seen people square dance to earlier. I half expected a carvanha to leap out and take a bite of her butt with the way she was waving the bulb back and forth.


    Next to her, the tranquility and vastness of the sea and sky had put Durvasa in a meditative mood. His gaze flickered from the setting sun to the west, the rising moon to the east, and the boundless sea that stretched between them.


    "Mankey¡­" he gasped. I didn''t need a translator to hear the wonder in his voice. He''d seen sunsets before of course. He''d seen the sea for a few days now too. But there was something indescribable about being out in the ocean, out past the waves, that put things into perspective.


    "Yeah, it''s beautiful. It''s something that should be routine. It happens twice a day after all, like clockwork, as the world spins around the sun and the moon spins around the world," I said softly. I placed a hand on Durvasas''s head and tousled his fur lightly.


    "Man¡­ mankey¡­"


    "But maybe that routine is part of what makes it beautiful? It''s constant. This dance of celestial bodies has been here before you and me and will be here long after. The beauty is in knowing we are part of a grand design."


    I hadn''t been much for religion in my past life, most Japanese people weren''t and my family on dad''s side could be best described as "Chreaster" Christians, the sort who only attended church on the important holidays. But here, here in the pokemon world where I knew Arceus created the multiverse with his thousand hands, where Time, Space, and Distortion had tangible avatars that could be interacted with should one feel particularly suicidal, here, I was a religious as the pope. Not quite pious, there was no such thing as the Church of Arceus in modern times, but at least cognizant of forces that had shaped this universe and so many more like it.


    Durvasa growled lowly, a rumble that sounded like it should have come from something larger than a mankey. It was the sound he made when he was deep in thought, somewhere between a whine and grumble. I wondered what normal pokemon knew of the Legends. Did they have some oral tradition about how Kyogre and Groudon shaped the world? Or were they all aware of certain truths of existence the moment they were born? Some kind of ancestral memory maybe?


    ''The truth, as it so often does, varies by species, my lord,'' Artoria said softly. ''I know not how other pokemon learn, but my mother taught me about the Many-Handed One and the Three Primordials. She sang to me hymns about the Earth, Sea, and Sky, how the Sky quelled their feud. These stories resonate in us, and by the resonance of our souls we know them to be true. But their names, those, I learned from you.''


    ''Did you?'' I asked, half in surprise. ''I would have thought you had some kind of archive.''


    ''We do, but our knowledge is incomplete, partly out of reverence, partly out of carelessness. Perhaps the stories you remember about the past are just as important as the stories you remember about the future, my lord.''


    ''True. I guess, if we are part of some grand design, if the old llama is still watching from the Hall of Origin, what would he make of me? Why me?''


    ''You were born to receive my fealty, to teach me and lead me and love me, just as I was born to receive your instruction, to love you, and to pledge myself to your service,'' Artoria spoke with absolute conviction in her voice. It was the surety of someone who felt no need nor desire for clarification.


    ''Don''t you hate not knowing? To know that gods exist, but won''t tell you why you exist at all?''


    ''There is beauty in knowing you are part of a grand design, my lord. As you said, there is purpose in that. But I feel that there is just as much beauty in not knowing, the mystery of it all. I know not why I was born female, though female I am. My dream would be so much more achievable had I been born male. And yet, I care not, for I have my master to guide me and my sword to sharpen.''


    ''Is that right?''


    ''It is, my lord. Is it not wonderful? To chase the horizon and face each mystery as it appears? Not to understand, but simply in the pursuit of our dreams? No matter what may pass, to greet the end knowing we have achieved what we set out to do?''


    ''You''re right, Artoria. It is what we do with the gift of life that defines us,'' I paraphrased. ''What the Legends want isn''t as important as the lives we choose to lead.''


    We smiled at each other as the raft drifted along. The moon rose into the sky and the night breeze left me feeling refreshed. Something passed between us, an understanding, a promise.


    Artoria held up her spoon, almost like a flag, and the silver metal caught the moonlight with a dazzling glimmer. Aura pooled into the bowl of the spoon, a shimmering white pearl in the night.


    Then I saw it. I thought the sunset glimmer was playing tricks on my eyes, but there was the faintest hint of pink. It began as a spark, a single glitter of rose amidst a cloud of silvery-white. Then two. And three. Until her spoon was dyed pink with fae aura. It was as Alice had once described to us; it had an indescribable, unknowable quality to it, as though I could see it a thousand times and come up with a thousand and one answers.


    Artoria offered me a delighted smile. ''I do not need control, nor to understand all mysteries. Come what may, I will seek my dream and make it real with this blade of mine.''


    ''How selfish of you, Artoria,'' I sent back with a wide grin of my own.


    ''Of course, my lord. Fae are exceedingly selfish creatures. We are mysterious and unknowable, carefree and whimsical, but also so, so selfish when it suits us.''


    ''Aren''t knights supposed to be selfless?'' I teased.


    ''I seek to be a knight and therefore my selflessness is inherently selfish.''


    ''You know that barely made sense, right?''


    ''But my lord, fae are also creatures of paradox.''


    ''When did my Artoria get so smug?''


    ''I learned from the best.''


    Our moment was disturbed by the sound of Larry''s whistle. He''d put on a jacket with LED lights embedded into the sleeves, one green and one red, so he could be seen from atop his lapras in the night.


    "Right, everyone, we''re hitting tentacool breeding waters now," he said. "Off to our left, you can see the way their biogems glow beneath the waves."


    The sight drew a gasp of wonder out of all of us. Below the sea, countless red orbs lit up the water like millions of crimson stars. It looked mysterious and magical, like something out of this world. Out of all my pokemon, Jeanne was the one who found it the most enchanting. I just knew she''d want to replicate the effect in a performance sometime later, maybe with a myriad of floating Electro Balls.


    ''It''s beautiful, my lord,'' Artoria whispered.


    ''It''s also proof that we''re floating through a sea of jellyfish sperm right now,'' I quipped back dryly.


    ''Why must you be this way? Who hurt you?''


    ''Reality must intrude sometime.''


    ''But not all that glitters is gold. Sometimes, just appreciating the mystery is better for the mind.''


    ''Heh, true that.''


    I smiled and leaned back, relaxing as my team enjoyed themselves. Artoria wasn''t wrong; despite my words, it really did look gorgeous. The haunting beauty of a moonlit night, the gentle waves that scattered the crimson lights, it was all very poetic.


    I took the chance to snap some pictures of my pokemon so I could upload them to the chatroom. If one of Artoria looking constipated as May brushed her hair got included, well, that was just an oversight, really.


    ''If that pokenav goes missing tonight, it is surely not I,'' my starter pouted.


    ''Don''t worry, it''s all on a cloud anyway. I can just get a new one,'' I assured her with a shit-eating grin.


    The tranquility of the moment was shattered by the sound of something heavy falling into the water.


    "MAY! MAX!" I heard the mother shout in alarm. She leaned out over the ledge, eyes wide in desperate panic.


    I didn''t think. I wasn''t sure what made me move, but move I did. I tossed Artoria off my lap and followed them into the water with one motion. The ocean enveloped me with an icy chill as I did my best to ignore the salt in my eyes. I''d never been more than passable at swimming but I was in the water already; there was nothing to do but to make it count.


    The ocean glowed red around me. It looked so achingly beautiful from the surface, but now that I was in the water with them, I couldn''t help but compare them to eyes that glowed in the dark. They did help in one regard: I could make out the silhouette of someone, about half my size, thrashing in the water, desperately trying to break the surface. Unfortunately, he was swimming down, not up; he''d gotten himself turned around in the confusion.


    I grabbed the little boy by the waist and started to drag him upward. He couldn''t have weighed more than seventy pounds, but that was a lot when he was thrashing in a panic. My thirteen year old body couldn''t do more than keep our current depth.


    ''My lord!" I heard Artoria cry out.


    Right. Aura. I had aura. Not a lot, I was no master, but I had enough to maybe count here. Harnessing what I could, my body became coated in a faint, blue glow. Power filled my body as I shoved the boy''s head above water. I felt us moving up, away from the blood-red lights. I''d soon be able to take a breath.


    The two of us broke the surface. As we took in greedy gulps of air, I felt a blazing line of fire wrap itself around my leg. I gasped automatically as shooting pain spread throughout my body. Saltwater flooded into my mouth, making me gag in disgust. I remembered what I''d told Artoria; I just ate a mouthful of tentacool sperm. My muscles seized as the mother of all cramps paralyzed my leg.


    Once, in college, I''d been dared to smoke a yellow jacket hive with a burning textbook, like how those beekeepers did it. I was very, very drunk at the time and the experience and subsequent trip to the ER taught me to pick my friends better.


    That couldn''t compare to this. One tentacle, a split second of contact, was all it took for my entire body to involuntarily freeze up in agony. I''d thought I had decent pain tolerance; I was wrong. Not like this. Not the venom of a magical creature used to hunting things a lot more dangerous than some thirteen year old kid. In hindsight, it probably wasn''t even intentional, probably just a few tentacles waving in the current.


    It didn''t matter. My leg was on fire and I could feel the pain spreading. I tried to keep treading water, but I couldn''t move at all, as though I''d been trapped in a waking dream. What tenuous grasp I had on my aura shattered with the pain.


    Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a linoone, bigger than any I''d ever seen, swim up out of the water with the sister in its jaws.


    The tentacool let go of my leg, but drifted to the surface to see what it had snagged. Then Artoria was there in a flash of blue, spoon blazing with righteous wrath.


    "KIR-LI-AAA!" I heard her scream out a battlecry, still cuter than fierce, before scooping the tentacool out of the water and chucking it a good fifty feet into the air. The psychic energy behind her Mana Edge left a visible trail that glittered with the ocean spray.


    I saw both children get hauled back to the boat. I felt hands grab me by my arms, then the pain caught up to me again and my world went mercifully black.


    Author''s Note


    Durvasa isn''t the only one who can reach breakthroughs through contemplation. Artoria now has rudimentary access to fairy type aura.


    In other news, Aaron goes for a swim with Japan''s mascots cultural mascots.


    Did you know? May had a bad experience with tentacool when she was younger. As far as we know, she went swimming and wore a tentacool-shaped swim cap, but her mom threw a pokeball at her because she thought she was a pokemon. Stupid reason to hate pokemon until she met Ash. So I''m giving her a better reason lol.


    Right, animal facts¡­ Bird-vamps exist. The vampire ground finch, native to the Galapagos Islands, drinks the blood of blue-footed boobies (I swear that''s a real name).


    This happens mostly during the dry seasons when food is scarce, but the boobies do not put up much resistance to being pecked at. Scientists think that this behavior evolved from the way some finches peck at and clean other birds of parasites. So it''s basically grooming behavior that ran wild.


    Thank you for reading. To reach a wider audience, and because I enjoy a more forum-like setup to facilitate discussion, I like to crosspost to a wide variety of websites. You can find them all on my Link Tree: https://linktr.ee/fabled.webs.</a>

 4.6 Fish

    Aaron''s Pokemon


    Artoria (Kirlia)


    Jeanne (Flaaffy)


    Durvasa (Mankey)


    Fish 4.6


    Aaron Fulan


    Petalburg City


    I drifted in and out of consciousness as Larry hopped off his lapras. In my burning haze, I saw him lift out a drawer beneath one of the seats to reveal a first-aid kit. The next time I awoke, it was to him applying some topical cream on my shin that stung like all kinds of hell. Antidote, probably.


    The lapras and blastoise weren''t idle. They began to take us away, the trip obviously cut short. I thought I saw a wall of ice sprout between us and the tentacool bloom, maybe as much to prevent my pokemon from retaliating as to keep them from chasing us. The last thing we needed was an involved battle against however many dozens of tentacool were out there.


    When I next came to, I was on shore and being carried onto a gurney. Someone, the mother, pretty sure, had gotten to my pokeballs and forcibly returned my team. I felt the soft leather of my belt being pressed into my hands. My fingers closed around it automatically.


    She said something else, but I didn''t understand. It all felt so murky, like I was still underwater.


    That was as far as my willpower got me before I passed out.


    X


    The next time I returned to consciousness, I was greeted by boring, ivory-white walls.


    I tried to rise and immediately felt a little queasy. The stillness was what took me aback. As far as my body remembered, I''d been on a raft at sea; suddenly not bobbing with the waves was a disconcerting experience that took a few seconds to accustom myself to.


    Lucky, because a few seconds were all I had before I was tackled flat by my pokemon. Jeanne and Artoria held me down with strength far exceeding their sizes as they babbled something I wouldn''t have understood even had I known pokespeak. Even Durvasa, usually the most aloof of them, sat on my stomach with an impatient glower. Theirs were a chaotic mess of emotions, from relief to anger to remorse.


    I smiled and placed a hand on Jeanne and Artoria''s heads. "I''m fine, guys. I remember Larry had an antidote for us ready. Guy was prepared for something like that."


    "FLAAF!" Jeanne bleated out. Her tail slammed down onto my thigh, sending a painful jolt up my leg. "Flaaffy-flaaf-flaaffy! FLAAF!"


    "Ow¡­ Really, I''m sorry for worrying you."


    "Flaaffy. Flaaa¡­"


    ''She is right, my lord. What you did was exceedingly foolish,'' Artoria chided. Waves of disappointment and pride flowed through me in an even mix. Then indignation and disappointment as she realized I could feel that she was proud of me for acting to save someone else. ''I now see why empaths are inconvenient.''


    "I''m sorry," I apologized aloud so everyone could hear. "Yes, it was stupid. Yes, Larry had a blastoise to take care of any problems like that. Yes, I jumped in anyway. I wasn''t thinking. I guess¡­ I saw a kid go overboard and¡­ my body just moved¡­ There wasn''t any higher brain function involved."


    ''We are aware¡­ And we are proud to serve a selfless lord, but¡­ but it was scary¡­''


    I pulled them close. "I know. I''m sorry. I wasn''t thinking. On the plus side, tentacool venom isn''t really life-threatening in small doses."


    ''That doesn''t make it better. Your pain is especially revolting. I do not relish the thought of tasting it again.''


    "I''m sorry," I said again.


    The door opened then to admit three figures. The first was a man in a nurse''s uniform who stopped to look at the chart stuck to a corkboard next to the door. The second was a woman, the mother of the two kids who decided on an evening swim. The third¡­ The third was Norman Maple, gym leader of Petalburg City and one of the toughest trainers in Hoenn.


    It struck me then. Max. May. The brunette woman who wore her hair in two, wavy pigtails. They were his family.


    ''I just saved Max Maple,'' I thought blankly.


    ''You did, my lord.''


    ''Huh¡­ Didn''t expect that.''


    ''Would you have acted any differently had you known?''


    ''Of course not.''


    ''Then it is what it is.''


    The nurse walked over with a clipboard. He was young but overly clinical, or perhaps intentionally so to mask his relative inexperience. "Mr. Fulan, you received a significant dose of tentacool venom last night. The antidote was administered on-site and bloodwork now shows no trace of the active chemicals in your bloodstream. You will likely still feel sore for several days and it is our medical opinion that you should utilize crutches until you no longer feel pain. Do you understand?"


    "I do, nurse," I said. Then a sudden thought sent chills down my spine. "Umm¡­ Has anyone told my mother?"


    The nurse visibly faltered. "N-No, Leader Fulan has not been notified as of yet. We did not see the need as your medical bills have been paid for."


    "How? I definitely don''t have enough for a room at the moment, League subsidy or not."


    Norman coughed. He looked¡­ bashful¡­ something I''d never have associated with the normally stern man. "That would be my doing, Aaron. I should have been on that raft as well but got called away on duty-"


    "-to judge a pie-eating contest," his wife added. Judging by the look on her face, Norman would be sleeping on the couch for a while.


    "-to judge a pie-eating contest," he admitted with a defeated sigh. "I felt we owed you this much at least."


    I nodded. It would have been fine to call mom, she wasn''t a monster or anything, but I could understand the reticence given her usual reputation. No one wanted to see a pissed off psychic, not without a damn good reason. Nothing terrible would happen, but she had that way of looking at you that made you feel like the scum of the earth. I still wasn''t sure if sympathetic empathy was involved or not.


    To be fair, I wasn''t thrilled about the idea either. I''d been injured before, a burn from back when I was learning to start a campfire in trainer school. She''d been a weird mix of coldly aloof and overwhelmingly doting then. Not a word to me besides "do better next time," but the little drawer beneath my school desk had been mysteriously filled to overflowing with eleven different brands of burn cream and rawst berry extract.


    The teachers also looked like they''d seen a ghost and paid a near-obsessive amount of attention to the safety portion of our curriculum afterwards. It was like she tried to overcompensate via material things because she knew she was awful at expressing herself emotionally.


    "Thank you, Leader Maple," I said formally. "You didn''t have to do that."


    "I did. Now, I''m told you had a match scheduled with me this morning?"


    I winced. That was probably out the window. "Yeah¡­ I guess that''s not happening."


    "In light of the circumstances, I''ll be sure to reschedule you as soon as you feel ready."


    I glanced at Durvasa. He''d be the star of the show, not just because he had a type advantage and gym leaders at earlier badges were testing to see if I knew what the fuck that was, but because he was the one most in need of worthy battles. The scuffles between baby pokemon and rookie trainers at the beach were nice, but they could only teach him so much.


    I met his eyes and asked an unspoken question. The wicked grin on his face told me everything I needed to know. He wasn''t the one injured after all. Hell, that tiny moment of excitement probably just riled him up more.


    "How about tonight?" I asked.


    "You''ll still be on crutches, young man."


    "I will. I don''t see how that''s a concern. It''s not my kendo that''s being tested."


    "Are you sure you wouldn''t prefer to rest for a few days, dear?" Mrs. Maple asked with naked concern that I''d never seen in mom. She had a name¡­ Carol? Cara? Catherine? Something like that¡­


    "Absolutely," I said with a firm nod. "I can give commands just fine and more importantly, Durvasa is ready. There isn''t any reason to wait."


    "Well¡­ If you''re sure¡­"


    "I am."


    Norman nodded, simply accepting my decision. Pokemon trainers were akin to boxing coaches in a sense. It wasn''t like we were the ones doing the fighting, short of where aura-based metaphysical connections were concerned, but there was some worry that I''d strain my leg during the excitement, especially if the battle wore on.


    "Very well, I''ll take some time after the gym closes for your challenge," he said. "But before that, my children would like to say something to you. Kids!"


    May and Max Maple, the designated regional groupies to Ash''s protag-mojo, walked in all sullen-like. It was honestly kinda cute; they looked at me with big, teary eyes as if I was a man on my deathbed. Yes, May was likely only a year or two younger than me; no, that didn''t keep adult-Aaron from thinking of her as a brat.


    The siblings looked at each other hesitantly. I recognized the awkward shuffling they were doing as the same one Tate and Liza did when they were in trouble and waiting for the other twin to speak first.


    Finally, May bit the bullet, only for Max to echo her in turn. "We''re sorry, Mr. Fulan!"


    I laughed. It was honestly too funny. I wasn''t "mister" anything, couldn''t even grow whiskers yet, never mind a proper beard. "It''s Aaron. May, right?"


    "Y-Yes! And this is Max. Thank you for saving my brother."


    "I think you would have been fine even if I didn''t join you for an evening swim."


    "Still, you moved faster than even Larry''s blastoise," Mrs. Maple said with a smile. "I appreciate it. And the kids know better than to horse around on a raft, don''t we?"


    "Yes, mom," they chorused.


    ''Ah, that explains it,'' I mused. I''d been wondering what sent them overboard in the first place. "Really, don''t worry about it. I''m mostly better anyway."


    This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.


    The children hid behind their mother. I followed their gaze to see Artoria glaring absolute murder at the young kids, spoon glowing softly in her hands. It should have been a lot more unnerving than it was, but she just looked so damn cute that it was hard to take her wrath seriously.


    ''They are irresponsible and could have been seriously hurt,'' Artoria huffed.


    I reached over and plucked the spoon from her hands. She yelped in surprise and sprawled herself over my lap, dragged along by my grip for a bit. ''They''re kids, Artoria, let it go.''


    ''That does not excuse their behavior.''


    ''You mean like when you and Jeanne overate? And when you barfed all over my shirt?''


    ''T-That was different!''


    ''How?''


    "No one got hurt.''


    ''Maybe, but it left us vulnerable in the woods for several hours. That''s arguably worse, yes?''


    ''... yes¡­'' she acquiesced sullenly.


    ''Glass houses, Artoria. I know you''re upset because I got hurt, but that was my choice, not theirs. It''s not like they''re not repentant either. Just call it a growing moment, hmm?''


    ''If you say so, my lord.''


    ''Good,'' I dragged her more fully onto my lap so I could pamper the pouting kirlia.


    With that sorted, the Maple family left soon after. Norman said something about how he wouldn''t be taking it easy on me, the pride of a gym leader and whatnot. I told him to bring it, because Durvasa would probably revolt had I given any other response.


    All that left me with was a very boring day of hobbling to the pokemon center and getting used to crutches.


    X


    That evening, I stood across from Norman in the Petalburg Gym''s main battlefield. It was¡­ plain. Gym leaders often liked to add obstacles or terrain features to their fields that gave their pokemon an edge, rock, grass, and water type gym leaders especially, but Norman, true to his type, stuck to a completely barren field. He was much like mother in that regard.


    He was still dressed in his gym''s uniform, basically just athletic apparel with his logo on it. He had that serious look on his face that people online swore gave him "daddy energy," whatever the hell that was.


    "Challenger Fulan," he called formally, voice ringing through the gymnasium. Though indoors, the bleachers could seat a solid two hundred or so. "Are you ready?"


    I grinned and leaned on one of my crutches so I could wave the other at the bleachers. There was no one there, just May, Max, and their mother who I''d learned was named Caroline, but that was how I liked it. The post-match video would eventually go online, but by then, I''d be better and wouldn''t have to explain to mom why I was in crutches. Hopefully.


    I palmed Durvasa''s ball and replied, "I am."


    "Then proceed," he said to the sole gym trainer still on duty. Next to him was a baltoy providing a weak shield over the field.


    The young man coughed to clear his throat and recited the usual spiel: Three on three, challenger may substitute once, so on. When he brought his arm down, we both released our first choices.


    "Take the sky, taillow!" Norman shouted. A small, swallow-like bird with blue and white plumage appeared before immediately climbing into the air.


    "Durvasa," I said simply, tucking my crutch briefly in my armpit to lob the ball. My sage-to-be appeared near the center of the field, as far as I was allowed to throw the ball. I''d wanted to close the distance early to capitalize on my type advantage but he''d obviously predicted that.


    I should have seen it coming. This was the big disadvantage of having my team out in the open all the time after all; all my opponents knew my team composition before the battle began.


    Despite my obvious disadvantage, seeing the taillow made me happy. It was proof that Norman intended to take me seriously. I had feared that he''d give me a buy since I saved his son.


    I considered my options. I could use my single substitution now. Jeanne would make short work of the taillow. Its speed and maneuverability would mean fuck-all against Shock Wave. It was the smart move, probably the move Norman wanted from me. The first badge asked trainers to be able to make basic plans before coming to the field. The second tested us on basic counterplay.


    "How are you feeling, Durvasa?" I asked. The real question was implied.


    "Man! MAN! MANKEY!" he roared. It came out as more of a shriek, but I got the message. He wouldn''t forgive me if I subbed him without even letting him fight.


    I sighed and let out a soft chuckle. "Well, it''s not like we have no options. Focus, Durvasa."


    My mankey continued to sway back and forth, but his eyes narrowed in concentration. He''d been using Focus Energy while in motion since I caught him. It wasn''t an "attack buff" in game terms, but it did make his movements a little sharper and gave his strikes a bit more intent.


    "Hoh? Prepping the stage? Don''t think I''ll let you! Wing Attack!"


    The taillow shrouded itself in white before screeching its name. It swerved into a steep dive, looking for all the world like a comet or shooting star.


    To his credit, Durvasa was able to dodge the first strike thanks to his increased awareness. He ducked out of the way in a textbook boxer''s bob, the lessons with Archie paying dividends now.


    However, my mankey was by no means a master. He dodged the first dive fine, the second as well, but by the third, he encountered a problem: He couldn''t counterattack.


    He tried, dodging by the narrowest of margins in order to take that split second to swipe at the taillow''s wings. If he dodged too far, he couldn''t strike back before his opponent flew out of range, always with a mocking chirp. But if he waited a hair too long to evade, the taillow never failed to punish the error with a swift beat of its wings.


    I watched my mankey get slapped around. He was sent rolling like tumbleweed once again. I wracked my head for something I could do here, some trick or strategy to make the taillow stay still, but there was nothing. Until now, Durvasa had gotten by on clever use of Encore to manipulate his opponent. That wouldn''t help him deal with this kind of air superiority.


    Durvasa wasn''t a quitter. He could win, even after taking a beating like this. All he needed was one strike, one second; I knew he could make it count. I thought about having him tank the hit, but he was too light to pull it off. He''d tried a few times out of sheer frustration and ended up doing a tumbleweed impression for his trouble.


    I stared out at the barren field and grinned wide. There was one thing with that kind of mass.


    "Durvasa, trust me! Lie flat!"


    Norman raised an eyebrow in amusement. He could see what I was doing but instead of commanding his pokemon, he let it happen.


    Durvasa blinked in rapid succession. I could practically hear the gears in his fuzzy little head turning. Then he broke out into a wide grin that matched my own and flopped onto his back.


    The taillow looked confused, but dove down anyway. Sure, Durvasa was only about a foot tall even when standing, and lying down didn''t seem like a huge difference, but when the taillow was the same size? Those nine or ten inches meant the world to us.


    The feathered menace was forced to glide closer to the ground to try and strike Durvasa. There was a natural fear of the ground, the instinctive need to pull up off the dive before it was too late. I''d never dare play this game of chicken against the likes of Winona''s team, but against a second badge pokemon from a non-flying specialized gym?


    I wasn''t imagining things. It was slower, just a hair, but that hesitation was there.


    It naturally avoided putting its head and wings near the earth as much as it could. The body and its momentum followed the head; that was the basics of basics driven into every athlete''s skull. Look where you punch or throw or what have you. So when the bird instinctively tilted its head back an inch, its momentum likewise followed, taking with it much of the bite of its Wing Attack.


    "Now! Ground it!" I shouted, then almost tipped over on my crutches like an idiot. Thankfully, Durvasa wasn''t an empath so that didn''t distract him.


    "Man!" Durvasa cheered. Instead of the wings, he reached out and wrapped his arms around the taillow''s spindly ankles.


    Bird met floor and, like every other time in history, the floor won.


    The sudden weight and drag forced the taillow to face-plant into the dirt with a squawk of surprise. Its momentum was impressive enough to keep them going even as the two pokemon dragged against the ground.


    I didn''t need to give any further orders. Durvasa wrapped its tail around his opponent''s ankles and promptly stradled it in a full mount. Feathers and squawks of pain could be heard as he went to town on it, meting out its vengeance threefold for every strike the bird landed on him.


    A red light shot out from Norman''s hand and the taillow was returned. "Well done. I didn''t think a mankey that young could beat a flying type. Your ability to think around a type advantage alone makes you worthy of the Balance Badge," he said, "but you have two more pokemon, don''t you?"


    "I do. Durvasa, you were great. Go sit in the stands and watch the following rounds."


    "Man!" he protested. He did his best to show he could keep fighting by jabbing at the air in a horrible facsimile of Archie''s boxing forms.


    I shook my head with a rueful chuckle. "No. Sit down, Durvasa. You took several flying type attacks and I can see your knees trembling to keep you standing."


    He promptly stamped his tail into the ground like a tripod. "Mankey."


    Norman looked at me chidingly. "Your mankey doesn''t seem to know when to quit. A common trait for the species, but nonetheless dangerous for young trainers."


    "Mankey-man," my pokemon grumbled. He swayed back and forth in his best approximation of a bob and weave.


    "No, sit down, Durvasa. I''ve seen drunkards box better than you do now," I said sharply. Our eyes met and I glared him down until I saw the defiance leave his eyes.


    "Man¡­"


    I watched him trudge over to the bleachers like a man walking to the hangman''s noose. Why were all my pokemon such divas?


    Still, he was off the field now.


    "Challenger Fulan, do you retire your mankey for the rest of the match?" the gym trainer asked.


    "I do," I told him, mostly for formality''s sake seeing how everyone saw Durvasa''s little tantrum.


    "Then we will continue with the gym challenge. Trainers, on your marks. Release!"


    Twin lights vanished to unveil a whismur and kirlia. Artoria spun her spoon around, twirling it like a conductor''s baton in a display of fine motor skills. She thrusted it forward, snapping into a textbook kendo stance.


    ''I would have thought I would go last, my lord,'' Artoria muttered in my mind.


    ''Aces go last in general, but Jeanne had her fun in Oldale. Durvasa''s tuckered out too, even if he''ll deny it. Sweep the rest of the battle if you think you''re up for it,'' I told her, knowing full well what that''d do to her competitive spirit.


    Sure enough, her emotions flared like a bonfire. White for willpower, orange for greed. Really, my starter had to be the single most bloodthirsty kirlia alive.


    ''I resent that, my lord. I''m not bloodthirsty; I simply enjoy challenging myself.''


    ''Of course. And milotic are only slightly full of themselves. Ready?''


    ''Always.''


    That was all the time we had for chit chat before the gym trainer started the second match. Norman clapped twice. "Start things off with Screech."


    The whismur took in a deep breath before releasing a shrill, almost intolerable sound wave.


    Screech, an interesting move that didn''t at all work like the games. There was no such thing as a "two-stage defense drop" after all. Instead, it took the form of a visible ripple of power that was launched from the whismur''s mouth. This pulse of force maintained cohesion even as it traveled half the field to where Artoria stood at the ready.


    Needless to say, sound didn''t actually work like that, but here we were. I chalked it up to the same bullshit that gave Jeanne''s electrical attacks physical weight. "When in doubt, blame aura," was quickly becoming my personal mantra.


    Artoria scoffed dismissively. The whismur was well-trained, but its attacks were slower than Jeanne''s. She didn''t need me to tell her what to do. Her sword glowed with pale-violet light and grew in size a bit. Light Screen, not dissimilar to psychic barriers that protected trainers in high-level matches. She stepped into the attack and dispersed the incoming wave of force with the bowl of her spoon.


    "Get up close. Howl into Pound," Norman barked.


    ''End it quickly. Strike from behind,'' I told her.


    It was a short battle. The whismur psyched itself up with Howl, maybe not dissimilar to war chants that some cultures sang, before throwing itself at Artoria, feet first. To its credit, it expected to be blocked by her spoon and used it as a platform to jump off from, maintaining most of its momentum.


    When it next struck, Artoria vanished in a spark of blue. Her spoon was already mid-swing when she appeared from behind.


    An explosive crack filled the air as the aura she infused her sword with detonated against her opponent''s skull. The sentient loudspeaker flew through the air and collapsed back on its side of the field with a deflating noise that wasn''t unlike a mic drop.


    "Well, maybe I should have expected that from your starter," Norman said with a rueful smile. He returned the whismur and murmured some encouragement to it before clipping the ball back to his belt. "Caroline did say your kirlia smacked a tentacool a few dozen yards. Well done."


    "Thank you."


    "The third pokemon was going to be a zigzagoon, but I don''t think he''ll be much trouble for your kirlia."


    Artoria''s emotional aura visibly died down a bit in disappointment. We''d had plenty of practice against the little critters in Petalburg Woods and on our way from Oldale. By now, she was understandably a bit sick of them. I knew Norman had a linoone in his elite team, one with the typical Belly Drum and Extreme Speed combo that''d swept entire battles on its own before, but I doubted we''d be seeing any of its offspring in a second badge challenge.


    Something must have shown on our faces because he laughed understandingly. Rather than reach for the third pokeball on his belt, he walked over to a small cart with the other gym pokemon.


    "Tell you what? I''ll give two options, Aaron: One, you can battle the zigzagoon, get your badge, and be done here. Or two, you can battle something that''s a bit better matched to that kirlia of yours. You lose and I''ll give you the badge anyway, that trick with your mankey was enough to warrant it. But if you win, I''ll throw in a useful TM. How does that sound?"


    I shrugged. The crutches were a little uncomfortable to stand with, but I could bear it for a few extra minutes. In the end, it wasn''t up to me. ''Artoria? What do you think?''


    I didn''t really need to ask. Her competitive spirit blazed like a bonfire again. She glanced at my leg for a moment, saw that I wasn''t in any real pain, and held her spoon out in open challenge. ''A knight never denies the opportunity to face a worthy opponent.''


    "Well, I guess that answers that," I said with a laugh, gesturing to my starter. "I think she''ll pout all week if I back out."


    Norman laughed along and grabbed the pokeball he''d been eyeing. "Yes, I suppose the answer is obvious. This one will do. He''s quite fierce, much like your Artoria. Let''s get on with it then."


    Author''s Note


    Oof, here''s half the gym battle. I had a pretty hard time striking a good balance between "gym battles are supposed to test the rookie" and "both Aaron and Norman are competent trainers." Hopefully that came through. Third match should be more fun than the second, but I wanted Durvasa to be the star this chapter.


    Thank you for reading. To reach a wider audience, and because I enjoy a more forum-like setup to facilitate discussion, I like to crosspost to a wide variety of websites. You can find them all on my Link Tree: https://linktr.ee/fabled.webs.</a>

 4.7 Fish

    Aaron''s Pokemon


    - Artoria (Kirlia)


    - Jeanne (Flaaffy)


    - Durvasa (Mankey)


    Fish 4.7


    Aaron Fulan


    Petalburg City


    I leaned on my crutches as Artoria stood confidently before me. She had her silver spoon in a textbook-perfect kendo stance, ready and all but vibrating with eager anticipation. The Balance Badge was ours already, but Artoria wasn''t the sort to walk away from a challenge. Across from us, Norman Maple palmed his final pokeball with a satisfied smile. He released close to the center of the field, implying maybe that our final opponent was a close range specialist like Artoria.


    When the light faded, it revealed a bipedal pokemon with exceptionally well-developed forelimbs. A pair of large, dagger-like claws capped each paw, much longer than its other fingers and big enough to rival a drilbur''s. Its cream-like fur was streaked with a vibrant red like fresh-spilled blood, a clear warning to all and sundry that the little fellow meant business.


    Fierce, bloodshot eyes appraised Artoria with a calculating gaze. Already, its claws were poised and ready to intercept any sudden moves. Despite towering more than a foot above Artoria, it did not immediately dismiss her as a non-threat.


    Artoria sized it up in turn. By weight alone, it probably had a decent strength advantage over her and she knew that. Still, her sword remained steady, her aura flaring white with determination and eager anticipation.


    "A zangoose, well, this ought to be interesting," I muttered. They definitely weren''t second badge pokemon. ''Artoria, expect almost exclusively close combat.''


    ''That seems obvious, my lord,'' she noted wryly as the zangoose''s comically large claws came to mind.


    ''True. Slashing moves, maybe even Swords Dance if Norman''s feeling mean today.''


    ''Understood. Shall I blitz?''


    ''Unlikely to work. It definitely knows Quick Attack, probably things like Double Team as well.''


    ''An opponent I cannot overpower nor overwhelm with speed. That sounds troublesome, my lord,'' she said. It might have been misconstrued as a complaint had she not been vibrating with excitement. ''A contest of technique then?''


    ''Yup, go nuts. Norman picked a great match for us.''


    ''Yes! I will prove that my sword is superior to his claws. I swear on my honor as your knight.''


    ''Oh, he''s male?''


    ''You humans and your inability to determine pokemon genders is baffling to me.''


    ''He''s cute and fluffy and can probably disembowel me. That''s all I know.''


    ''My lord¡­''


    I laughed and sent her a pulse of pride through our bond. These mongoose pokemon were infamous for their perpetual feud against seviper. It was a feud that seemed baked into their very DNA; even individuals raised solitarily on farms hated serpentine pokemon, and seviper in particular.


    Hell, the feud was so bad that trainers with both were often forced to trade one away, not usually because it was mandated by the League, but because the two would eventually become so antagonistic towards one another that training them became an impossibility. The trainer who could raise both simultaneously was a rare breed.


    I used to love zangoose back in my old life. The art reminded me of a cute, punk cat and they had surprisingly decent stats in-game. I couldn''t wait to see what one trained by Norman Maple could do. The go-to strategy with a zangoose in-game was Toxic Boost, but I put that out of mind as Artoria''s opponent wasn''t carrying a Toxic Orb.


    "Are you ready, challenger?" the referee called.


    "I am," I said.


    "Leader Maple, are you ready?"


    "I am," he nodded firmly.


    "Then begin!"


    Artoria, lost in her excitement, closed the gap in a single Mana Burst. I was mildly surprised when Norman did not in fact have his zangoose charge in. I''d expected it to fight like a berserker, or maybe an assassin, not dissimilar to a slower sneasel. Instead, it skipped backwards, flipping with unexpected acrobatic grace and leaving Artoria to swing at empty air where he once stood.


    The zangoose let out a strangled bark, almost like a cat choking on a hairball. Artoria paused in her chase for a moment but we both saw its emotions remain steady; our opponent wasn''t choking to death or anything. Confused, she stepped forward again, sword posed to land the first strike.


    Then Norman said one word that made me question everything about the way I thought this battle would go: "Toxic!"


    "Port out!" I shouted in alarm. Was a stall-goose a thing? Would he play keep-away with a teleporter? That sounded idiotic, but then again, this was Norman Maple. He could probably make it work.


    Artoria teleported back to our side of the field, but that proved to be a mistake on my part.


    Instead of lobbing a glob of corrosive poison our way, the crazy weasel spat it like a loogie straight up into the air. I watched in wide-eyed horror as it allowed the purple poison bubble to splash on its head like the world''s most disgusting water balloon.


    I grimaced and felt my heart leap into my throat. That certainly cleared things up for me.


    ''Artoria, it''s Toxic Boost,'' I spoke as quickly as I could, sending packets of emotion and memories to facilitate the information transfer. The ability stimulated a pokemon''s nervous system in ways I was too stupid to understand, but we had a few seconds to come up with a plan before the poison fully set in. ''Major attack buff, but the zangoose isn''t immune to poison.''


    ''Which means the wise thing to do would be to turn this into a game of tag and wait it out,'' she hummed noncommittally.


    I sighed. I knew that tone. ''You''re going to do the dumb thing, aren''t you?''


    ''I''m going to do the honorable thing, my lord,'' she corrected. ''Do you not trust your knight?''


    ''Of course I do, but that doesn''t mean going head to head against a Toxic Boosted zangoose isn''t silly.''


    ''We have the badge, why should we not indulge?''


    ''Fine, so be it.'' I smiled. Really, put a powerful opponent in front of my little knight and it could only end one way. It was like a slab of tuna in front of a cat, the silly fight junkie. I spoke aloud for all to hear, voice filled with utmost confidence in my starter. "Artoria! All-in! We''re against the clock. Take him down before the poison does!"


    "Kirlia!" she let out an enthusiastic warcry, sword glowing and ready to go.


    Norman shook his head with a rueful chuckle. "You know what''s happening and still want to brawl with my zangoose? That kirlia''s definitely the strangest I''ve ever seen. As you please. Zangoose! Oblige them!"


    "Zan! GOOSE!"


    It leapt forward with a wicked grin, one mirrored on my starter''s face. It opened with a swift but light thrust that had Artoria falling into a textbook maki-kaeshi with her sword pointed diagonally downward, "edge" facing back, so the claws could slide against the shaft and off the bowl of the spoon.


    She retaliated with a swift kick to its stomach, sending it stumbling back with a mild grunt. Refusing to let them reset, she kicked off with her grounded foot, leaving a small dust cloud in her wake. Her left arm pulled down like a lever, swinging the spoon head right back to center-mass for a lunging thrust of her own that caught the zangoose by surprise.


    "Zan!" it let out a yelp of pain as her strike found its snout. It hadn''t dealt much damage, but the opening it gave Artoiral allowed her to land two more strikes in quick succession. Whatever could be said about Toxic Boost, I was confident that Artoria wouldn''t lose in a contest of skill.


    "Zangoose, Crush Claw. Overpower her," Norman shouted.


    With a responding shout, it lashed out in a swipe that batted Artoria''s spoon aside. Had it not been reinforced with her psychic power, I had no doubt we''d be in the market for a new spoon. Its second claw came up in a rising backhand that sent my kirlia stumbling back with a yelp of pain.


    Having bought some space for itself, I could see it visibly charging up. A second later, its claws were covered in glowing white light and grew a solid foot in length. They also became thicker, and therefore blunter, trading tearing sharpness for bludgeoning force.


    "Artoria, Reflect," I called, "Match them."


    "Kir."


    A shimmering wave of blue enveloped her silver spoon. It grew in length until it was proportionately as long as a zweihander or nodachi on her diminutive frame.


    Properly armed now, the two offered one another nods of mutual respect. At some unspoken signal, they dashed towards the center once more.


    This time, the zangoose followed a more balanced fighting style. One of his claws struck out with crushing force, but the other was always pulled back with his elbow slightly bent, ready to protect himself and keep him in the fight for as long as possible.


    With his gigantic claws, the posture provided a good amount of protection for his body even when standing still. I would have thought a pokemon using Toxic Boost would naturally go for a hyper-aggressive battle style, but it seemed Norman taught his zangoose a fair bit of technique as well.


    For her part, Artoria focused on parrying her opponent''s leading claw to create an opening to strike. Unfortunately, for all her skill, it became clear to me early on that the zangoose had the advantage in an extended trade. Not only was she not a match for the boosted zangoose in strength, she had one sword while her opponent fought with a pair of weapons.


    The zangoose brought his right claw down in an overhead swipe, causing Artoria to step off the line of attack. By heading into her opponent''s right flank, she would normally have had the opening to counter, the zangoose unable to pull back his paw in time. However, because his claws were so proportionately massive, he simply pivoted to face her, his left paw almost wrapping around his body like a protective cage.


    Artoria''s spoon made a satisfying clanging noise against the zangoose''s claws but that was all she accomplished. She hammered away at his impeccable guard in frustration but was ultimately forced to back off.


    The zangoose had his forelimbs crossed now, right paw mid-strike and left paw in defense. He rapidly uncrossed his arms, grating both claws against each other in a scissoring motion that repelled Artoria''s lighter frame with ease, sending her flying back like a tennis ball launched from one of those serving machines.


    She recovered quickly from the force but Norman saw his chance.


    "Zangoose, follow up! Quick Attack!"


    His entire body burst with white light as he launched a headbutt straight into Artoria. She managed to bring her spoon into a guard just in time, preventing her from taking too much damage. A spoon forged from Reflect was amazingly convenient like that. But with no footing to brace into and the large difference in strength, she got knocked flying again anyway.


    At this rate, she would win, but only because the poison exhausted her opponent faster than she could bring him down.


    I saw my own chance. ''Teleport behind it. Soften it up with lighter strikes.''


    I felt her disgruntled pouting through the bond, but she acquiesced knowing that getting into a strength contest had been a mistake.


    She flew through the air but vanished into a flash of blue. Then, from behind, she landed a vicious Mana Edge that repaid the zangoose back for that Quick Attack. The explosive force sent the larger pokemon rolling across the field with a cry of pain.


    Then, before he could recover, she was there, bringing her spoon down onto his head in a textbook-perfect strike.


    "Goose!" he growled, just managing to bring his claw up in time. He used his other claw to roll, practically lifting his entire body onto one claw before righting himself.


    "Don''t let her do that again. Disable!" Norman shouted.


    Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    My eyes widened in alarm. ''Don''t meet its-''


    Too late, the zangoose waved his claws in a waving pattern as he met Artoria''s eyes.


    As it had been explained to me, Disable separated the psychological schemas from the victim, temporarily keeping them from making the connection between "Teleport" the name and Teleport the move.


    The Disable took hold, imposing a limited psychosomatic block onto her mind. Artoria wasn''t new to psychic attacks, but she wasn''t nearly experienced enough to instantly no-sell them like her parents could. It only lasted ten or twenty seconds, just so long as the zangoose''s aura remained in Artoria''s system, but that was potentially crippling in a fight.


    "Shit!" I swore. This was why Quinn''s mastery of Shadow Sneak was so damn useful. As much shit as I gave him for being a hopeless chuuni, having multiple forms of rapid movement was incredibly useful. ''You''re just going to have to compensate with Mana Burst.''


    ''So I see, my lord,'' she grunted.


    ''Try to overwhelm him with speed. Attack from multiple angles. Keep switching your rhythm.''


    I received a pulse of assent and watched as Artoria burst forth again, cratering the ground slightly with Mana Burst. The zangoose met her mid-charge with an eager shout of hid own, happy to have found a worthy opponent.


    Then his face contorted in surprise and pain as Artoria struck him from above. She had formed a platform in midair with Reflect and used it to kick off, abruptly changing trajectory.


    Those platforms didn''t last long, formed as shoddily as they were, they couldn''t even take a single hit from me, never mind a pokemon, but they didn''t have to.


    This was one of the secondary advantages of Artoria''s hyper-focused training style: Everything for the sword. Rather than use Reflect and Light Screen like castle walls to hide behind, she had spent months creating shaped constructs, all for the exclusive purpose of clubbing her opponents senseless with a spoon. Forming a small platform by her feet for the instant it took to leap wasn''t nearly as taxing as sustaining a psychic construct.


    She dove for the ground, not unlike the taillow earlier, and landed several strikes before her opponent could react to them. I saw Norman''s eyes widen in surprise and knew that had I not already been promised the badge, this would have cinched it.


    Then, as if to prove that even his lower-level pokemon were extraordinarily well-trained, he called, "Agility. Quick Attack. Match them speed for speed."


    The zangoose winced in pain as he took off. Though he was resistant to poisons and had good pain tolerance; he sure as hell wasn''t immune. He was running out of time and knew it, so he threw everything he had at Artoria.


    ''I suppose all good things must come to an end, my lord,'' Artoria pouted over our bond.


    ''We promised we''d beat that zangoose before he collapses from poison,'' I reminded her.


    ''Then we should hurry up.''


    ''Of course. Evade and counter with Double Team.''


    ''Yes, my lord.''


    Before we could respond as we''d planned, the zangoose rushed her down with reckless intent, forcing her to block hastily. He slammed one glowing claw against her, driving her down to her knees with the force of his strike. Then he smashed the second claw right on top of the first, causing visible cracks to spread from the focal point.


    I could feel the immense strain she was under through our bond and did my best to send her pulses of determined calm. ''No choice. Mana Edge. Detonate the Reflect outward.''


    "Kir-lia!" she shouted. Her cry was all but lost in the sound of her spoon construct erupting. The explosion sounded like a firework tossed into a house of mirrors. The field erupted with smoke, obscuring the combatants.


    A second later, the zangoose flew out of the smoke and skipped along the ground before he used his two, oversized claws as brakes. The fucking thing still wasn''t down. Poisoned, panting in exhaustion, but his eyes were as clear and combative as ever. He skidded along the floor until he almost reached the psychic barriers, then kicked off in another burst of Quick Attack.


    Thankfully, that had bought us enough time. Artoria was equally tired, her stamina not a match for Norman''s zangoose, but she took those few seconds to collect herself and eked out three illusionary clones. When the smoke cleared, her opponent found himself crashing through one clone, only to take a retaliatory strike across the ear.


    ''Good. Don''t let up. We need to end it now.''


    ''Agreed.''


    My little knight''s aura burned white-hot with determination as she forced herself to fight through the fatigue. She cried out in a piercing, lyrical battle cry that bellied her ferocity as she put on speed with Mana Burst. Beside her, the two remaining clones followed suit, seemingly vanishing to strike from hilariously impractical angles.


    Above, down on the collarbone. From the lower left, towards the kidney. A thrust from behind to the spine that switched targets in an instant to become a parrying swipe. It didn''t matter in truth. The sheer volume of attacks forced the zangoose back into a guarded stance.


    Artoria''s technical precision alone had not been enough to break that guard, but tired as he was, a bit of trickery provided the right opportunity.


    A clone launched a rising slash from the left that he attempted to slap away. A second clone drove in from the center, a thrust towards his throat that made him raise his other claw in defense.


    That was it, the moment Artoria had been waiting for. With his left paw wide and right lifting into the air, the real Artoria erupted from below, catching the right claw and using his own momentum to finally break his guard. It was a modified harai-ageru, a low-to-high parry that swept the opponent''s bokken high above their head, leaving the body open for a decisive strike.


    I saw and felt her moment of triumph, that instant flood of glorious victory and pride as her spoon shone like a torch in the night.


    "Kir-li-aAA!" she roared, bringing her sword down onto her opponent''s head with an explosive crash.


    That finally proved to be too much for the zangoose. He was out before he hit the ground.


    Artoria stood there, panting and visibly trembling, but the sword still locked in her finishing stance. Then, ever so slowly, she released the tension in her body. She blinked slowly, as if her victory had finally settled in her mind. Then, with a joyous shout, she lifted her spoon into the air.


    "Kirlia!"


    "Gym Leader Maple''s zangoose is unable to battle. Challenger Fulan is the victor!" the gym trainer called unnecessarily.


    Still, it had the desired effect. The few spectators we had erupted into applause. Artoria basked in it, positively glowing at her accomplishment.


    ''You know, you can''t call Jeanne a diva anymore, right?'' I teased.


    ''Nonsense, she is a diva,'' Artoria huffed fondly.


    ''And you are?''


    ''I never said I wasn''t. There is nothing wrong with delighting in hard-won victories.''


    ''Of course not. This is your moment, Artoira, savor it.''


    I hobbled over and motioned for her to teleport onto my shoulder. For the first time in a while, she didn''t squirm or complain about her damaged dignity. We shared a quiet moment of camaraderie before we heard Norman Maple approach.


    "Congratulations, young man, you''ve proven several times over that you are worthy of the Balance Badge," he said warmly. In his hand was the badge in question, which, if I was being honest, looked rather underwhelming. It was a simple metal badge shaped like a barbell, though I supposed it was supposed to represent the many balances a trainer ought to strike in life.


    Nevertheless, I accepted it with a happy smile; the badge wasn''t important after all. "Thank you, Leader Maple. And thank you for picking the zangoose as Artoria''s opponent. I think she got a lot out of that."


    "I''m sure. Toxic Boost is a risky strategy to use, a tradeoff that favors immediate, overwhelming strength over a drawn out battle. I didn''t think you''d try to race the clock though."


    He walked us over to the bleachers so I could finally rest my legs. The tentacool venom had been washed from my system, but the rash remained and I still couldn''t stand for long. I had to temporarily return my team so he could put our five pokeballs into the healing machine in the corner.


    "Heh, that was Artoria''s idea. She''s a knight; she would have hated playing a game of tag until the zangoose poisoned himself unconscious."


    "Ah, that would explain it. It''s important to account for your pokemon''s personality when deciding on an approach. That''s why I settled on Toxic Boost for this particular zangoose," he admitted. "His body lacks the natural immunity to most poisons that some members of his species have, but he''s a scrappy one. He didn''t respond well to other fighting styles and it took a while for us to come to an understanding about using this little quirk safely, but I''m happy with the balance we''ve set so far."


    "How does that work exactly?" I asked curiously. "Toxic Boost, I mean. I know it makes the pokemon stronger, but I''m not sure about the mechanics. It''s not just pure aura nonsense, is it?"


    "''Aura nonsense,'' he says," he chuckled. "No, no it is not. What you have to understand is that not all poisons are the same. Some work by thinning the blood, making even small injuries debilitating. Others cause muscle spasms by influencing nervous synapses. The especially dangerous ones cause apoptosis, cell suicide, in white blood cells and other important cells in the body.


    "It''s the second type that my zangoose doused himself with. However, instead of simply causing muscle spasms or painful convulsions that can restrict blood flow or constrict the airways, some of the chemicals inside the poison react with special hormone receptors unique to zangoose, replicating the effect of adrenaline and other hormones that are released during combat," he finished.


    "I think I get it. So not all poisons would work the same for Toxic Boost." It made sense. "Poison" as a type covered everything from rotting sewage to neurotoxins in the games. Reality tended to be considerably more nuanced than that.


    "That''s right. Toxic Boost is an evolutionary adaptation the zangoose species developed in response to their feud with seviper and so triggers when similar cocktails are used. A grimer''s poison for example, would not trigger this response."


    "Thank you, Leader Maple, that was very informative."


    "No need to thank me, young man, it''s nice to see someone your age hold an interest in learning. Usually, people are only interested in things that affect their own pokemon."


    "Speaking of my pokemon, do you have any advice for me?" The man was one of the strongest trainers in the region, to the point that there were whispers about him taking over for Drake should the dragon master retire. I didn''t know how true those rumors were, but someone who could be talked about in the same breath as the Elite Four was someone worth respecting.


    "Hmm¡­ I haven''t seen your flaaffy battle so I can''t comment on that one. Your mankey is doing well enough. His anger is very typical of his species and even fighting type masters have a hard time reigning in that temper. It''s good that he is not the strongest on your team because they tend to be bullies if left unchecked; I had a similar experience with my vigoroth before he evolved."


    "I see. I hadn''t realized Artoria''s constant humbling was doing so much for him."


    "Mankey, like vigoroth, live in highly structured troupes. One might not think so considering how chaotic they are, but their relationship dynamics are very complex and striated. It may be that because your kirlia favors such a martial-focused fighting style, he respects her more. If she relied on psychic might alone, I don''t think he''d be as obedient."


    "A fighting type''s pride, huh?"


    "Indeed. It''s working for you. However, be sure to spend time with your mankey. The stick must be balanced with the carrot. Ensure that he grows alongside your other pokemon. Otherwise, he may begin to resent his place in the team."


    "That makes sense. I try, but I admit I''m not nearly as knowledgeable about hand-to-hand combat as I am at kendo."


    "You do not have to be. Simply letting your mankey know he is appreciated and that you will explore avenues for growth is enough. You seem to have done a decent job of that already. I do have to wonder though, how did you end up with such a unique kirlia? I hadn''t realized Leader Fulan had an interest in kendo."


    I laughed sheepishly. "Mom? Definitely not. That''s my own interest. I''d show you, but," I waved to my crutches. "Artoria looks up to her dad, mom''s gallade, and wants to be a knight like him. I figured it''d be really neat if I taught her kendo."


    That was as much time as we had before Max and May rushed over, their mother unable to contain their energy.


    "That was so cool! How did your kirlia do that?" Max shouted excitedly. He began to chatter in a babbling stream before I could answer even one of his questions.


    "Max, be quiet," May chided her little brother. "You haven''t even let Aaron talk."


    "It''s fine," I waved her off. "I have a brother too. I know what they''re like."


    The boy in question laughed nervously. "Ehehe, sorry. I think your kirlia is awesome. I want a kirlia of my own one day."


    "Oh? Kirlia aren''t girly?"


    "Not when they can do that."


    "Well that all depends on how you train them, doesn''t it?"


    "Yeah! I''m gonna be a trainer like you one day! Dad! I want to learn kendo!"


    "Oh? Do you think it''s easy?" the gym leader said with a stern frown.


    "I can do it!"


    I couldn''t help the beaming smile on my face. I wasn''t an instructor anymore, but it felt good seeing someone express interest in the art I''d honed for almost three decades. "Oh? You can, can you? Kendo isn''t what makes my kirlia strong."


    "It''s not?"


    "It''s bonds," I said, tapping his chest. "Heart. Friendship."


    "Everyone says that," he said with a pout.


    "Well, if I, your father, my mother, and even the Elite Four and Champion keep saying so, then there must be a reason for that. The connection Artoria and I share is what really makes us great. She''s not just a pokemon, she''s my friend, and that word has power, Max."


    "He''s right, son," Norman said, "All great trainers understand this. A strong connection will be what carries you far."


    "Then I''ll be the best friend a pokemon could ask for," Max exclaimed with all the innocence of youth.


    "I''m sure you will," I said earnestly. Considering how he managed to befriend the Wish Maker in the original timeline, I sure as hell wasn''t willing to bet against him. If Jirachi hadn''t gone off to take his thousand year siesta, who knew? Max might have even begun his journey with a legendary as his starter.


    Norman coughed Softly into his fist to get my attention. "Now, normally, this is when I''d give you a TM, something to commemorate the battle. The TMs I give out contain Facade, a move that allows the pokemon to feign weakness before striking with great power. However, I did promise a more fitting reward. Tell me, is there a TM in particular that you want?"


    "Loads, but normal type moves, right?"


    "I do have to stay on brand."


    "Well¡­"


    "Personally, I recommend Protect."


    "I do too. I have it already. The biggest reason I don''t use it more often is that it loses initiative. It''s a big investment in terms of stamina and gives your opponent momentum. I think of it as a last resort rather than something to be relied on heavily."


    "I see. In that case, perhaps Swift? Your team seems to rely heavily on melee combat. Both your kirlia and mankey would benefit from something with a bit more range."


    That was true. Swift wasn''t too powerful, but this was only the second badge. It wouldn''t do to ask for something absurd like Hyper Beam, not that I could use it in the first place.


    Considering Swift''s homing property, it was an especially useful move. Even its lack of power was to our advantage; mastering it would be far less time-consuming than many other options. More than one trainer started with Swift and added their own elemental twist to the move. Artoria wouldn''t use it, but maybe¡­


    "If that''s what you recommend," I said finally, ideas running through my mind.


    "Then I''ll go get that and Facade for you. Don''t look too surprised; Swift isn''t so valuable that I can consider it a reward on its own."


    "Thank you, Leader Maple."


    "Please, just Norman. I''ll be watching your journey with great interest, young man."


    "We all will," Caroline added with a mothering smile.


    X


    I wasn''t quite fit for travel even though I''d accomplished everything I wanted to do in Petalburg. I spent a few days of my recovery with the Maples, particularly the children. Artoria never warmed up to them, but Jeanne and May got along like a house on fire once May found out I also participated in contests. I told her about my idea for using directed electricity as an instrument and her eyes practically shone like stars.


    With little else to do, I was able to find out what those things were called: thoramins. They weren''t well-known here, what with pokemon being the center of attention, but that just meant Jeanne''s debut as a living instrument would be even more eye-catching. I made sure to devote a few hours each day to studying up on the physics of it all and downloaded as much literature as I could on the subject onto my pokenav so I could learn while on the road.


    For his part, Durvasa continued to master Detect. I wanted him to have a sort of discount Ultra Instinct by the time he evolved. I''d give him Swift eventually, but it was best to take things one at a time.


    As for Artoria, she was still riding high on her victory. I bought her a parfait and poffins as promised, which ended with her stuffing herself until she looked like a balloon. That zangoose showed us that her strength, discounting the explosion of Mana Edge, was lacking, but there was unfortunately little we could do to remedy that until she evolved. I had some ideas, but they''d take work to implement.


    Author''s Note


    Spoon marathon? Spoon marathon.


    A zangoose''s sclera is naturally pink and makes it look like it''s pissed the fuck off. I''m not sure if the fight scene was easy to understand, but I wanted their duel to be a bit more mechanical than usual.


    Be advised that my understanding of biology never progressed beyond AP bio in high school. I''m sure a ton of what I said is wrong, please don''t crucify me.


    Animal fact? Sure. The plural of "mongoose" is mongooses, not mongeese. Some are solitary while other species live in groups. These groups are called mobs. Despite the stereotype, mongooses do not subsist primarily on a diet of venomous snakes. They prefer simpler prey like insects much of the time.


    Thank you for reading. To reach a wider audience, and because I enjoy a more forum-like setup to facilitate discussion, I like to crosspost to a wide variety of websites. You can find them all on my Link Tree: https://linktr.ee/fabled.webs.</a>

 4.8 Fish

    Aaron''s Pokemon


    - Artoria (Kirlia)


    - Jeanne (Flaaffy)


    - Durvasa (Mankey)


    - Unnamed (Egg)


    Fish 4.8


    Aaron Fulan


    Petalburg City


    I found myself in one of the largest pokemon centers in Petalburg City, just one day before our departure. It was one of the only centers with private communication booths, each set up with a pokemon digital transfer machine. To my surprise, it was mom who called me out here, which I supposed meant I was about to get my larvesta egg. I couldn''t wait. The thought of having my very own miniature sun left me vibrating in my seat.


    The call came through precisely at two in the afternoon, down to the second as was typical of mom. She was in the medical bay attached to the gym. It was located behind the main fields and had a transfer machine in the corner. Apparently, gyms could be used as emergency hospitals for pokemon in times of crisis.


    To either side of her were my siblings. They wore the customary Mossdeep Gym uniform, a set of teal workout sweats that were honestly wonderfully comfy; I still used mine as pajamas. They were floating in the air, seated on cushions of psychic power so they could be eye-level with mom and the screen. It was impressive how effortless they made that seem; sustained telekinesis wasn''t easy for humans to learn.


    "Aaron. You are well," she said in greeting. Her normally expressionless face was furrowed into a frown.


    "Hi, big bro!" Liza yelled, surging forward in the air until her happy grin was all I could see through the camera.


    Then, Tate yanked her back by her shirt until they shared the screen. He had a worried expression as he tugged his sister out of the frame. "Are you okay? You were on crutches!"


    "Ah¡­ I guess you saw the battle then?" I laughed nervously. Now that it''d been a few days, the gym battle between Norman and I was online on the League website for all to view, which naturally included my family.


    "Indeed. You were injured in your previous match. How?" mom asked. Her tone was as placid as if she were asking about the weather, but I knew her well enough to hear the slight strain in her voice.


    "It''s fine, mom. I''m better, I promise," I said with a disarming smile.


    "What happened?"


    "I took a boat tour of the tentacool bloom and fell in."


    "That doesn''t sound like you. You are more responsible than that."


    "Well¡­ I kinda jumped in¡­?"


    "Explain."


    "It''s not a big deal!" I defended. "Two of the kids on the barge I was on were horsing around and fell overboard. And then¡­ things just kinda happened¡­"


    "You jumped in after them," she said with a sigh. "You¡­ You have pokemon."


    "I know. In hindsight, I should''ve had Jeanne use Thunder Wave to buy time. The kids would be paralyzed too, but they''d just float anyway. Or boxed them in with Reflect. I saw them go overboard and I stopped thinking."


    "And you are okay now?"


    "Yeah, the guide had an antidote on board so I was treated in seconds. I didn''t get stung that much either, just a few inches around my lower calf."


    She studied me for a long minute. I''d never been much good at lying, especially not to mom. Fortunately, it meant she knew I was actually fine and not putting on a brave front. Finally, she let out a small sigh of relief, which was probably more emotion than I''d seen from her in years. "That''s good. You take after Jin. sometimes more than I would prefer."


    "Dad?"


    "He too is a man of action. He has a graduate degree, you know. He could have remained a normal scientist but insisted on becoming an astronaut because it was ''cool.'' He is a reckless fool."


    I clutched my chest in mock-pain. "Oof, do you tell him that?"


    "Of course."


    "Well I''m fine, mom. I didn''t say anything because I didn''t want you to worry."


    "People worry more when you stay silent."


    "Yeah, bro, do you know how weird it is seeing you stand on the field in crutches?" Liza said with a frown.


    "You could have postponed the match," Tate agreed. "I thought you weren''t in a rush to get badges."


    "I''m not," I shrugged, "but it''s not like I''m the one swinging a sword. My pokemon were ready and that''s what really matters in the end. Besides, I was fine after a night''s rest."


    "Backlash is important to consider as well," mother chided. "Leader Maple is not an easy opponent no matter the badge level. He is not the type to show mercy on the battlefield."


    She wasn''t wrong; aura backlash, sometimes called a rebound, was something trainers occasionally experienced for losing. It was the "X whited out!" message players of the games received when they ran out of pokemon.


    Funny enough, along with mega evolution, z-moves, and the gigantamax phenomenon unique to Galar, it was one of the biggest pieces of evidence that pointed to the existence of aura in humans. Or more specifically, the practical application of aura as a link between trainers and pokemon. Though it was still a contentious topic, scientists pointed to this backlash as proof that everyone at least had aura, whether they could access it or not, and that even the most novice of trainers had a certain metaphysical bond between them and their pokemon.


    The backlash wasn''t crippling or anything, most people didn''t literally black out under normal circumstances, but there was relatively little research done on the phenomenon because doing so ethically was difficult for obvious reasons.


    I doubted I would have gotten hurt regardless of the battle''s outcome. Not only was I actively training to use my aura, all League-sponsored gyms were required to contain medical bays much like the one mom was calling from. At worst, I''d get a new shiner if I did fall over and smacked my face into the floor.


    Still, a tiny part of me was happy to see mom worried. She was absolute shit at expressing affection so it felt nice to get it, even despite the fact that I knew cognitively that she loved us. That she hadn''t immediately jumped to business was as big a sign as I''d ever get from her.


    I laughed and nodded in agreement. "Yeah, Leader Maple really isn''t a joke. When he realized my team was a bit overqualified for the second badge, he offered to send out something else for his final pokemon. That zangoose almost had Artoria''s number."


    "And you agreed. Because you are a reckless fool."


    "Yup! Just like dad."


    "At least pretend to be repentant," she huffed, arms crossed over her chest.


    "Yeah! Aaron''s a jerk," the twins said at the same time. They had that adorable pout that made them impossible to deny.


    Liza continued, "You''re not allowed to fight when you''re injured."


    What could a big brother do except bow his head? I chuckled. "Alright, fine. I promise I won''t fall on my face from an aura backlash after getting my ass beat on TV."


    "That''s not what we said," Tate whined.


    "Mom, Aaron swore!" Liza pointed. "Teleport soap in his mouth."


    "I am tempted," mom said, her lips twitching just a tiny hair upwards. "In any case, what''s done is done. We will say nothing more on the matter."


    I let out an exaggerated sigh of relief. "Phew, safe~ You know, I''m more worried about the twins nagging me than aura backlash."


    "Then stop being dumb!" Liza ordered, finger jabbing the screen with irritation.


    "Alright, alright, so what''s up, mom?"


    "Caitlin acquired a larvesta egg," she said. She pulled out an incubator from offscreen. It was a sleek, black cylinder with lots of bells and whistles for things like temperature control, humidity, and even air pressure. Inside was the larvesta egg, an orange, white, and gray affair speckled with black dots that seemed to flash crimson as they caught the light. "This is the egg you asked for. The incubator has already been adjusted to replicate the ideal environment for the egg. Do not change the settings. Should the settings be changed accidentally, the information has been sent to your email."


    "Thanks, mom. This was honestly a lot faster than I expected, especially with the whole hydreigon thing and Caitlin being sent here as a goodwill ambassador."


    "She has contacts; she does not need to hunt down the egg herself."


    "I still think a metagross would be better, bro," Liza said, poking the glass cover of the incubator. "The egg''s really pretty though."


    "A metagross wouldn''t fit with my team at all," I explained. "Those guys are way too analytical. My team of lovable nutjobs would drive one up the wall."


    "Are you calling your team stupid?" Liza gasped with a teasing grin.


    "I think he''s calling his team stupid, Liza," Tate mock-whispered.


    I rolled my eyes. The beldum line were known for being incredibly intelligent and calculating. They had the minds of supercomputers and behaved like it. Most of the time, the easiest way to win their loyalty was to demonstrate in a cost-benefit analysis that you were their best option. In other words, they were not unlike Colress, the Team Plasma head scientist. Put one with a team full of chuuni tryhards with their genre-appropriate antics and¡­ "You know how my team is. No, you don''t, actually. Just trust me; a beldum really wouldn''t fit well with the pokemon I have."


    Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.


    "Yeah, but why a larvesta?"


    I shrugged. "Why not? Volcarona are cool, strong, long-lived, and nowhere near as problematic as most dragons. As far as a ranged powerhouse goes, I don''t think I can do much better."


    "Don''t they also take a long time to evolve?"


    "Longer than normal for sure, but not so long that I''ll be waiting a decade like in the wild. Trained pokemon evolve exponentially faster, remember?"


    "But what if you don''t have a volcarona by the Ever Grande Conference?" Tate asked with a frown. "Then you won''t be at your best."


    "Then I don''t have a volcarona. It''s not like larvesta are helpless," I said simply. It was flattering to know that in their minds, their big bro was already a shoe-in. "My pokemon will develop on their own time. I''m not going to try to rush an evolution for the sake of showing off a cool pokemon in my first year. Sure, that''d be awesome and probably do a lot for my reputation as a trainer, but I don''t really care about things like that."


    Mom nodded and pulled the twins back a bit. They''d been hovering progressively closer to the screen as they talked. "Good, that is as it should be. A trainer''s first duty is to their team. Some may pursue wealth and prestige so they might access greater resources for their team, but you are my son. You do not lack these things."


    I nodded. My account wasn''t vast, she was definitely the "kick the chick off a cliff to teach it to fly" kind of mom, but I didn''t doubt that those high-level resources would be there when my team were ready. "I know, mom. My team will grow in their own time, not some prescribed schedule."


    "Then I will transfer the incubator to you now."


    "Thanks, mom. Oh, did you get compensation from the Weather Institute?"


    "I did. Their controller was rather embarrassed by it all."


    "I mean, they did forget to load their card and almost left their own researcher camping in a park somewhere."


    "Quite. Where will you go now? Will you follow Petalburg Woods up to Rustboro?"


    "Yeah, I think Dewford can teach Durvasa a lot, but that it''d suit him better when he''s got a better handle on his own fighting style. Maybe I''ll save that until he''s evolved so I can bug Brawly for a real challenge."


    "Reasonable." She input my specific location code and the whole thing vanished from her side in a flash of light. A few seconds later, the incubator appeared on my side with an identical flash. "Was there anything else you wished to talk about?"


    "Hmm¡­ Actually, I''ve been wondering: Is it true that pokemon can hear things from within the egg?" I asked. It was true in the anime, at last for the larvitar, but I wasn''t sure how valid that was here. They were eggs after all. When I went looking online, some breeders did say they ended up with more obedient pokemon if they sang to the eggs during incubation, but others called that pure placebo.


    Mom considered the question. "It is a possibility. However, as with most questions concerning pokemon, the answer likely depends on the species. Some are more cognitively aware at earlier ages than others. It would not surprise me if the imprinting process begins from within the egg for certain species."


    "Ah, that makes sense. Any advice on larvesta specifically then?"


    "No. I am not a bug type specialist. However, I believe you should socialize with the egg as much as you are able, just in case."


    "Yeah, I guess it couldn''t hurt. Can I take the egg out of the incubator?"


    "For short periods. Read the instruction manual in your email, Aaron."


    "Alright, I will. Thanks again, mom."


    "You are welcome. I expect a call once you reach Rustboro."


    "Or when something interesting happens!" Liza cut in. Tate nodded vigorously next to his sister.


    "Fine, fine," I smiled. My siblings were adorable. Then, I had an idea. "Say, how would you guys like penpals?"


    "Penpals?"


    "Yup. I got to meet May and Max Maple, Leader Norman''s kids. May''s a bit older than you and Max is a bit younger. I think I''m going to add them to the chatroom."


    "Okay, but why?"


    "Because they remind me of you two, that''s why."


    "Alright, bro, whatever you say."


    "Great, cheers. Do well in school and all that."


    "Bye~"


    X


    I lounged on my bed with my team gathered around me. On my lap was the larvesta egg, removed from its incubator. That was fine for an hour or so according to the digital brochure attached to the email mom sent me. Along with an instruction manual for the incubator, there was also a guide to a larvesta''s life cycle as compiled by one of the few experts on the species.


    According to the brochure, there were no known nesting sites for wild volcarona in civilized Unova. That was bogus of course, Relic Castle was a thing, but I could totally understand why they wouldn''t want to make that public. If I was a League official and found out motherfucking Mothra with sun powers was chilling in the lowest levels of the most famous tourism hotspot in my region, I''d probably try to keep the info on the down-low too.


    Well, first shit bricks. Then try to discreetly station rangers around the perimeter so amateur anthropologists didn''t piss off a Champion-class disaster. Maybe try to come to an understanding with it.


    Whatever could be said for wild volcarona, there were only a handful of breeders qualified to raise larvesta for commercial purposes. They only sold a handful of eggs or hatchlings per year, volcarona didn''t breed often, and that almost exclusively to high-level rangers within Unova.


    Much like dratini bred from Blackthorn, money alone wasn''t enough to buy a larvesta. There was a certain prestige and cultural value associated with the pokemon that couldn''t simply be smoothed over with a few extra zeros on a check.


    Which made me smile with giddy anticipation. Volcarona were one of my favorite pokemon ever, and acquiring one would have been impossible without the Fulan name or the pull of a Unovan Elite. Maybe a larvesta wasn''t worth a mega stone on an objective scale, but I was more than satisfied.


    I set my pokenav down on the bedside table. There would be more time for reading later. I ran my fingers along the shell. It was toasty but not scalding despite the internal temperature of the incubator. This was because the egg, and the developing larva, was a supernaturally efficient heat sink. The shell absorbed all forms of heat and the larva used that energy to develop. It also refused to release any heat beyond this nice, toasty feeling, making the egg safe to handle.


    Around me, each of my team stared at the egg as if it''d hatch right this moment. When they learned that the egg was scheduled to hatch in five weeks, and that the larvesta''s consciousness should be developing as we spoke, they each took an interest in talking to it.


    I didn''t know what they said exactly, I could only ever hear a third of the conversation at any given time, but they seemed happy enough.


    X


    Artoria


    Petalburg City


    I beheld the egg that would one day become my newest teammate. There were no words to describe what I felt inside. I knew little of biology, but the consciousness inside had only just begun to develop. My lord said it would be born in five weeks. In just five weeks, this nebulous, flickering flame would fully ignite into a mind of its own.


    I ran my hand along the ember-like patterns. I felt privileged for the chance to witness the formation of new life. This would not be my first time, there was a small psychic type nursery associated with the gym, but almost none were eggs as a gym was a place of training and mastery, not a prenatal daycare. What few eggs I''d seen hadn''t captured my interest in this manner.


    None of those developing minds had been mine. My team. My family. My brother or sister in shared service to our lord.


    I reached out with my mind and felt the nascent consciousness stir at the slightest brush. With a soft croon, I whispered, "You will be a splendid teammate. Though the world is vast and you have no hands to wield a blade of your own, fret not, for I shall teach you the way of the knight nonetheless. Honor will be your armor and chivalry will be your light in the da-"


    "Pffttt, really, sis? And you wonder why Aaron teases you," Jeanne giggled behind me. "Oh, I''m sorry, Lord Aaron."


    I rolled my eyes at my sister''s discourtesy. I''d long since grown accustomed to her needling. It was, in my more fanciful moments, funny. On occasion¡­ seldom¡­ She tried and I had resigned myself to her poor sense of humor.


    She shuffled close to the egg and nuzzled her face to it. "Don''t listen to her. That was Big Sis Artoria. She likes to think of herself as a knight. She''s always super stuffy, but don''t worry, our trainer isn''t like that. Oh, I''m Jeanne, by the way, the fun and cool big sister. I''ll have the thoramin figured out by the time you hatch, I promise. Then I''ll be able to play music for you and show you the wonders of pokemon contests."


    "You mean the vainglorious nonsense that inevitably devolves into single combat anyway?"


    "Oh, hush, sis. Contests are displays of masterful skill and creativity. Besides, Aaron did say volcarona were the ''sun pokemon.'' A flashy pokemon like that deserves a flashy stage. Ooh! Maybe we''ll even perform in the Grand Festival together!"


    "The sun is nourishing light. A pokemon with such a lofty title should strive to live as a glorious exemplar of honor."


    Our eyes met and sparks danced between. Literal sparks because my sister was a melodramatic diva. Then, smirking, she leaned over and gave the egg a long, slow lick.


    "Hah. I licked it. The egg is mine now~" she sang.


    "That''s not how this works and you know it," I protested.


    "Lies. It''s mine now. The larvesta inside is destined to take after me."


    I knew she was goading me, but that somehow didn''t make her any less irritating. "You''re wrong. Just you wait, I''ll teach her to be a splendid knight."


    Durvasa, our newest brother, vaulted over our heads to land on the bed frame so he could get closer. He tapped the egg and rolled his eyes. "You two argue too much. Don''t humans have a saying about not counting eggs before they hatch?"


    Jeanne bleated happily. "Oh, I know that one! It''s about infant mortality in chickens, right?"


    "It''s about tempering your expectations, you wool-brained fool!"


    "Hey, no need to be mean." She turned and whispered to the egg, "That was Durvasa. He''s always grumpy."


    "I am not grumpy."


    "You are," I said blandly. "Although, where did you hear that saying?"


    "One of the humans said it and I thought it strange."


    "Yes, humans have many strange stories and idioms. Like rolling stones gathering no moss. Why anyone would want more moss is beyond me."


    "Hey, moss can be tasty," my sister said. "It''s got a nice, earthy note you don''t get from normal grass or hay. It''s especially good with a bit of sourness to offset the minerality."


    "If only you paid half as much attention to things that aren''t food," I said, rolling my eyes.


    "I do! I dance and train as hard as you do, meanie."


    "Fine, but humans don''t eat moss," I told her patiently. "Or, I don''t think they do. Lord Aaron doesn''t at any rate, but it seems like a fairly common saying."


    "Then what does it mean?"


    "It''s a metaphor. The original saying is, ''A rolling stone gathers no moss; so too a wandering heart gathers no affections.'' The moss is a metaphor for relationships and the stone for a traveler who never settles long enough to form lasting bonds. Now though, humans use it to mean that a diligent man who is active will not gather moss, that is, depreciate in perceived value."


    "So humans have no idea what their own saying originally meant?" Durvasa scoffed. "Typical. They seem like a chaotic sort. Our troupe leader is more focused than most, but I suspect that is the effect of his constant training."


    "You''re not wrong. I was raised in Mossdeep Gym, the foremost home for psychics in the region, and I''ve found few are as focused as our lord. Lady Sharon, his mother, often tried to remedy this by teaching meditation to her gym trainers but I''m not sure it caught on in their personal routines."


    "You know a great deal about humans."


    "I do."


    "Can you read?"


    I blinked in surprise at the seeming non-sequitur. "Yes. My lady mother insisted that I learn. Many psychics raised alongside humans can read. Why do you ask?"


    "Teach me."


    "To read? Not to fight?"


    "Yes. I''ve realized that much of the information our troupe leader acquires is from the written word. There must be a vast store of knowledge in his glowing box."


    "A pokenav. It stands for ''pokemon navigator.''"


    "Very well, a pokenav. I wish to learn to read."


    I hummed. It could be a good way to bond with my newest teammate. He was the least mankey-like mankey I''d ever heard of, but that was a good thing in my opinion. I could readily admit that I was wrong; he was not the brute I''d expected when my lord recruited him. "As you wish. I will teach you to read each night."


    "Thank you."


    Jeanne bleated and tugged the egg closer to her. "Great! While you do that, I can teach this little fella about all the wonderful contest routines I''ve seen. Maybe then it won''t turn out as stuffy as you two."


    I squawked in outrage and lunged for the egg. "You will do no such thing! Our new sibling will learn chivalry and honor, not strut around like a vainglorious persian!"


    "You wish, sis. We''ll compete in the Grand Festival together. We will dance like the sun and storm, the thunder will be our chorus!"


    "Unhand the egg, you diva!"


    "Never!"


    And thus began the War for the Sun¡­


    Author''s Note


    There is an interlude after this in which we''ll follow up with some of the rival characters we''ve met so far. It was a request by a commissioner months ago, but I wanted to get through this section as it''s a nice stopping point.


    Jin Fulan is not unique. All astronauts need a master''s in STEM to qualify as well as a rigorous fitness test. Several have doctorates in fact.


    I don''t know where the pokemon''s perspective came from, but I felt it''d be funnier to actually give them voices. I did a brief blurb from Artoria''s perspective, but nothing like this. The way I see it, Artoria is the overly serious big sister and Jeanne is her constant, lovable annoyance. Durvasa balances them out despite being in a perpetual state of grumpiness because he''s so damn curious about everything around him.


    Thank you for reading. To reach a wider audience, and because I enjoy a more forum-like setup to facilitate discussion, I like to crosspost to a wide variety of websites. You can find them all on my Link Tree: https://linktr.ee/fabled.webs.</a>

 4.8.5 Onale Gates & Sabine Soto

    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.


    A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    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.


    Thank you for reading. To reach a wider audience, and because I enjoy a more forum-like setup to facilitate discussion, I like to crosspost to a wide variety of websites. You can find them all on my Link Tree: https://linktr.ee/fabled.webs.</a>

 4.9 Fish

    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.


    Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.


    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.


    Thank you for reading. To reach a wider audience, and because I enjoy a more forum-like setup to facilitate discussion, I like to crosspost to a wide variety of websites. You can find them all on my Link Tree: https://linktr.ee/fabled.webs.</a>

 4.10 Fish

    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.


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    "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?


    Thank you for reading. To reach a wider audience, and because I enjoy a more forum-like setup to facilitate discussion, I like to crosspost to a wide variety of websites. You can find them all on my Link Tree: https://linktr.ee/fabled.webs.</a>

 4.11 Fish

    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.


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    ''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 for reading. To reach a wider audience, and because I enjoy a more forum-like setup to facilitate discussion, I like to crosspost to a wide variety of websites. You can find them all on my Link Tree: https://linktr.ee/fabled.webs.</a>

 4.12 Fish

    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.


    You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.


    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 for reading. To reach a wider audience, and because I enjoy a more forum-like setup to facilitate discussion, I like to crosspost to a wide variety of websites. You can find them all on my Link Tree: https://linktr.ee/fabled.webs.</a>

 4.13 Fish

    Aaron''s Pokemon


    - Artoria (Kirlia)


    - Jeanne (Flaaffy)


    - Durvasa (Mankey)


    - Deviled (Egg)


    Fish 4.13


    Aaron Fulan


    Petalburg Woods


    I raced through the woods, aura suffusing my body as best I was able. I could see the flares of emotion now, a corona that filled the glade in the distance. They acted as a beacon that drew me in, like a lighthouse that warned me of the jagged rocks ahead.


    My sword was clenched in hand, held loosely but securely. I was almost there. Judging by the way my team was fighting, none of them were down yet, which probably meant the poachers didn''t have any other pokemon than what Durvasa had seen, or that they weren''t very strong. I thanked Arceus for that. Sending them out without me was a risk, one I''d only entertained because I trusted Artoria''s ability to command them.


    As I neared, I saw a spark of pink light up the glade and heard the adorable battlecry of my starter. Pride swelled in my chest. It seemed Artoria finally got her fairy sword working. One day, her Excali-Spoon would part the heavens.


    They came into view and I quickly gauged the situation: Artoria was standing over a heavily concussed nuzleaf who was probably regretting its life choices at the moment. Similarly, Durvasa stood above a downed liepard, panting and with cuts that most certainly needed to be treated, but victorious.


    I saw as Jeanne dashed out of the Electric Terrain, an Electro Ball in hand. She leapt into the air with the telltale blue glow of Agility and landed atop a pile of definitely-not-natural stone. Inside, I could see several chikorita, trapped. Jeanne used the pile of rocks as a makeshift launchpad, launching herself further into the air before pitching the orb at the bird pokemon I didn''t recognize.


    One of the poachers, its trainer, screamed for it to dodge. It closed its wings and sank like a stone, avoiding taking a direct hit. Jeanne''s attack still managed to clip it, making it spasm in pain.


    "Roost!" he ordered.


    It obeyed, hitting the ground and grounding itself in such a way that could only be described as poke-magic bullshit. It lost its flying type and dispersed some of the electrical charge from Jeanne''s attack to the earth below.


    I''d seen enough. "Jeanne, on the bird! Take it out! Artoria on the skunk!"


    That got everyone whirling my way. My mind linked to Artoria once again and I felt a wave of relief and resolve in equal measure flood through our bond.


    I looked around for what else I could do. The shadow beneath Durvasa''s feet pulsed and I shouted out a warning, saving my mankey from a painful ambush by the kecleon. I''d completely forgotten that thing could learn Shadow Sneak. If it could change type like in the games, it was the worst possible matchup for Durvasa.


    Shadowy hands reached up out of the ground. The first ambush missed, but Durvasa went in, unfamiliar with the pokemon''s quirks. I wanted to warn him but was too late. Without the telepathic bond between Artoria and I, I just wasn''t fast enough.


    He wore a surprised face for only a moment as his fist phased through the kecleon. Its tongue lashed out like a lance, punching and sticking to the mankey''s forehead. It swung its tongue around like a bludgeon, slamming my mankey into the ground. With his already injured state, that was enough to knock him out.


    That left us at a distinct disadvantage. They had a kecleon, skuntank, and the bird and I had Artoria and Jeanne. Off along the edge of the glade, I could see three chikorita huddling in the pile of rocks. A fourth chikorita lay several yards away, bleeding and broken but somehow still conscious.


    Taking it all in, I came to one conclusion: I had to take the field.


    This wasn''t a pokemon battle. There was no referee. There was no crowd to please. No, this was a fight, one that could very well end with someone dying. And right now, not only was my team outnumbered, Artoria was also injured. They worked well together, but that alone wouldn''t be enough if I didn''t finish this soon.


    ''Stall, I''m going to try to grab their pokeballs,'' I told her. A wave of dismay came through our bond but I drowned out her protest before she could voice it. ''Our priority is finishing this quickly. This is the fastest way. Just keep the kecleon off me.''


    ''As you wish, my lord,'' she replied, unhappy but unable to deny the truth.


    I flooded my body with psychic power as I rushed towards the two men. It wasn''t anything like what the old martial masters could do; I''d seen videos of Elite Bruno or the grandmaster of Shalour City''s Tower of Mastery, but it was enough.


    The two men weren''t looking at me. They''d long since dismissed the presence of a nearby trainer and were completely focused on my pokemon. They wore dark-green fatigues and brown jackets that blended well with the forest.


    By the time they noticed me, I was almost upon them. One of them saw me coming out of the corner of his eye and turned. His eyes widened as they zeroed in on the sword in my hand.


    "Shit! Watch out!" one shouted, alerting his buddy. They reacted quickly, already high-strung as they were, but it didn''t matter.


    Compared to two, untrained men who flailed more in panic than anything, I may as well have been an anime character. Who knew? Maybe one day, I would be. There were so many fictional sword styles, techniques blatantly impossible in my old world that could be made possible with a little psychic help. But for now, all I had was my mundane training to fall back on.


    One poacher slung his backpack off his shoulder and thrust it in the way of my initial swing, trying to block the metal. He underestimated how quickly the lever-like hold of a kendoka could twist a sword''s trajectory. My sword wove in the air like a firefly, gently brushing past his outstretched backpack to stab painfully into his hand. A burst of red was my reward.


    "Gah!" he cried, dropping the backpack. The sword may have been blunted, but a point was a point. It was designed so I wouldn''t hurt someone unintentionally.


    I stepped into his nonexistent guard with a heavy swing, bringing the metal down onto his other hand. He probably didn''t have any more pokemon left, but there was nothing wrong with taking insurances. With aura-boosted force, a rounded edge meant little.


    I felt the fragile bones in his hand break under my practiced swing even as I turned my newly stopped blade into a sharp thrust towards his jaw. Not his throat, this world wasn''t any kinder on murderers than my last one and I had no intention of seeing the legal system from the other side, but towards his face nonetheless.


    The sword lanced through his cheek, leaving a wicked gash that would require a chansey''s special attention to fix. Perhaps he''d be more appreciative of pokemon now. Another scream pierced the air as he collapsed to the ground.


    "What the fuck?" his partner yelled. "Bombirdier! To me!"


    That was a mistake. The skuntank could not help in time with its relatively slow speed and long-ranged but imprecise attacks. There was a real chance any attack towards us would hit the poacher instead of me. The kecleon was currently busy with a pissed off kirlia and was in no position to Shadow Sneak over. It made sense to call for the bird pokemon; it was by far the fastest responder under the circumstances.


    But Jeanne wasn''t stupid; she understood human common perfectly fine. The moment that bird turned around, she nailed it with everything she had. An Electro Ball careened into its back like a fastball, followed by an overcharged Shock Wave that looked more like a small Thunder. Her opponent collapsed like a stone as she turned to face the skuntank.


    He whirled to face me with panicked eyes. He scrambled for something at his hip, a hunting knife about four inches long. He held it with some modest skill and I determined that he was a man who''d been in a few scraps before. He''d clearly never expected to fight a kid, but that inexperience made him unpredictable and I was forced to treat him with more caution than I had his partner.


    Those cute disarmament kata that got shown off in dojos? They usually didn''t work. They were cool to look at, and they were almost always necessary to receive a black belt, but they weren''t nearly as effective as the mall-ninja masters claimed.


    The one acknowledged constant of knife-fighting was that if a blade got pulled, your best bet was either to back off altogether, or engage with the understanding that you would likely be cut. Barring special circumstances, there were no winners in knife fights, just varying severity of injuries. That could be different here in this anime world, but I wasn''t so far above a normal teenager that I wasn''t afraid of a knife.


    So, rather than lunge for him, I opted to wait quietly. If I saw him move first, he''d become much more predictable. I could afford to wait now that the rangers were coming and the poacher only had two pokemon left. Time was on my side here. The two of us stared each other down as we played a mental game of chicken.


    Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.


    I didn''t have to wait long. He grew increasingly nervous as the pressure mounted. And when he came in with a thrust, I stepped to the side and brought my blade down on his wrist, breaking the bone with a sharp crack.


    I followed through, bouncing my sword from his wrist and slammed the back of my sword into his throat. He screamed out in pain, only for that to die in his throat in a choked gurgle. A final strike to the temple knocked him out.


    Moments later, I was rummaging through his belt. I found three pokeballs and hurled them all one by one at the skuntank until the third, of course it was the last one, forcibly returned it. Then I did the same with the first poacher I''d knocked out until I found the kecleon''s ball.


    Finally, it was over. There was no climactic end, no trade of super-moves or beam-offs, but that''s how I preferred it. All that was left to do now was to clean up.


    X


    Chikorita


    Petalburg Woods


    Incredible. Just¡­ incredible¡­


    The forest was a peaceful place. Those who lived within its depths had few dealings with outsiders, not unless we wanted to. The paths where humans traveled were known to all. Pokemon who partnered with these "rangers" occasionally dropped by to inform us of changes or take a survey of the forest''s denizens for one purpose or another. We were so isolated in fact that I had not known the humans called this place "Petalburg" until the previous year.


    We, the chikorita, were among the guardian species of this place, nurturers. She Who Blooms with the Dawn was our leader, a great, aging meganium who acted as our matriarch and the leader of the herd. Before she passed with the final sunset and the herd scattered, she would tell us stories of far-flung woods, a place called Ilex that was home to the Great Forest Guardian.


    My matriarch had arrived here with a human, one who loved and cherished nature as much as she did. Though we did not know what became of the human, we knew where she was buried, along with the worn pokeball that She Who Blooms with the Dawn had once called home. A great, gnarled spruce sat atop a small hill, alone yet peaceful. It swayed in the breeze and overlooked the herd. That tree had been special to her. To us.


    To the herd, it was a precious gathering place, our own slice of the forest. It was a place of community, where our matriarch entertained the young and nourished the forest around her. And when others came to visit, it was where she held court, addressing the forest at large, dispensing her vast wisdom, and soothing wounded hearts. It was the place where I grew up, where I first learned to feel the life energy of all the flora around me.


    It was also the place She Who Blooms with the Dawn was buried after she''d seen her final sunset, buried with her dearest and most cherished friend. It was the place where the entire herd mourned her passing, where we sang and stomped the earth until the trees swayed in concert with our steps.


    It was beneath its swaying leaves that the herd gathered for a final time before we went our separate ways. It was the only home I''d ever known.


    And these bastards took it from me.


    Ugly, blazing hatred burned in my heart, so very unlike the rest of my kind. My kind were a peaceful lot. We were nurturers and caretakers. It was our lot to sing to the forest, to guide and nourish. We loathed fighting, one and all.


    Except me.


    My blood sang and I struck out against those who would further scatter the herd. My leaves sliced the air and threatened to tear them to pieces. Powders of poison, as ugly and vile as the wrath inside me, flooded the air.


    I wanted revenge. I wanted justice. I wanted to watch as their blood wet the soil, the slightest measure of penance for the tree they had so carelessly torn down, the home they had destroyed, the grave they had defiled.


    I called my brothers to fight with me. I called, for surely they felt the same burning in their hearts.


    And yet, not a one rose to fight for what we had lost. Not one would honor her memory.


    My wrath blazed ever brighter at the sight of my quailing siblings. Cowards! Spineless wurmple! They ran! Ran like frightened calves! Even when they were captured, they did not struggle.


    It sickened me. And I understood, for we were nurturers, not warriors. And it sickened me twice over that I understood.


    We were a peaceful lot. Not one of us had known of battle. We had no need to, for none in the forest would dare raise claw nor fang against us. Why would they? Why would they harm the ones who most selflessly gave of ourselves for the sake of our shared home?


    Even the scyther, sharp and terrible predators though they were, left us be. Their leader, the scizor with countless scratches on his claws, decreed it so.


    But they were gone now, and so was our matriarch. Her tree lay sundered and the ground beneath rotted with toxins. War had come to my home and I found myself woefully unprepared. I cried and raged and fought with all I had, but I had to face the truth: I wasn''t good enough.


    But someone else was. I watched, broken and bleeding, as three pokemon came to our rescue. A flaaffy, mankey, and kirlia, none fully evolved, none I''d ever seen before.


    I had to rely on the goodwill of strangers to gain some slight measure of justice.


    It burned. The indignity. The wrath. It burned like a physical fire that I could feel coursing through my veins. It burned and left a gaping hole in my chest knowing there was nothing I could do but watch as someone else fought my battle.


    And fought they did. It was clear to see, even in my inexperienced eyes, that they had a plan coming into this.


    I saw the kirlia and mankey cover the flaaffy. I saw the kirlia cleave fire like a stone that parts the river. I saw her tempt the liepard into attacking her, only for the mankey to take over seamlessly, landing strike after devastating strike. I saw the flaaffy shock the bird and keep him away, making him all but useless.


    I saw them maneuver the liepard with ease, making the damned bird strike his own ally. I saw the mankey strike down the feline with shattered stone into his eyes. I saw a sword of ethereal energy illuminate the glade. I saw a lamb shine like a star.


    Most of all?


    I saw them fight as one.


    It was incredible. They weren''t impossibly swift or mighty like a salamence. They did not have numbers on their side like the mightyena packs. No, their strength, at least individually, wasn''t much greater than my own. They did not stand as towering giants, yet the shadows they cast felt all the longer because of it: Their strength seemed achievable.


    ''I can do that,'' I thought. ''We could have done that. Together. As one herd. We could have fought as one, if only we had not gone our separate ways.''


    And yet, there they were, fighting, fighting a battle that should have been mine.


    I saw and was filled with shame and disdain. At myself. At the cowardice of my species. At these poachers who had desecrated the matriarch''s resting place.


    I could not scream or shout. I could only bite my tongue with bitter self-loathing as they were slowly but surely overwhelmed. Once glancing blow after another, they simply could not handle the numbers. Though none had fallen yet, it was only a matter of time. I tried to force myself to stand but felt my ribs scream out in white-hot agony.


    And then he came. A human calf who wielded a blade like a scyther.


    He rallied them even as the mankey fell. His presence alone breathed new life into the kirlia and flaaffy and they fought all the harder because he was here. He could do what I could not: He inspired them, calling them to fight beneath one banner with nary a word.


    He struck down the men with a grace I''d not thought possible for his kind. The taillow and swellow often spoke of humans as bumbling and graceless, like newborn calves who had yet to find their feet. There was blood. There was the sound of breaking bones. There was fury and righteous wrath and ruthless retribution.


    I loved it. I watched grown men brought low by a child and felt the dark delight of vindication. For the pain they''d caused, for disturbing the matriarch''s rest, they paid in blood and I was satisfied.


    I''d wondered who led them, a kirlia who fought with the speed and grace of a scyther, a mankey with the discipline and cunning to temper his rage, a flaaffy who shone brightly like the sun. And now I knew.


    I''d found my trainer.


    X


    Aaron Fulan


    Petalburg Woods


    After forcibly returning the poachers'' pokemon, I went about treating my own, starting with Durvasa. He''d taken the most damage from the kecleon, and I assume the liepard. After giving my team the lion''s share of my potions, I had Jeanne keep an eye on the poachers and turned to the chikorita.


    The chikorita was looking bad. It was about half again as big as its brethren and had a large, green leaf on its head that was browning at the edges. Bruises and cuts littered its body, so much so that I almost saw more discolored bruises and weeping cuts than its natural, pastel-green hide.


    "Hey, you''ve been through a lot, haven''t you?" I said gently. It looked up at me with crimson eyes. Rather than fear, I saw the hues of awe and vindictive satisfaction in its eyes. I held out my potion. "This is going to sting, okay?"


    "Chiko¡­" it moaned and nodded. It didn''t react to being sprayed with the healing liquid beyond a light wince.


    Then, once the pain subsided, it tried to stand. Its forelimbs pushed it up with moderate difficulty but its hindlimbs failed to work. I saw its legs twitch a little as it tried to get its feet under it.


    ''My lord, he was slammed into a tree by the nuzleaf''s Bide,'' Artoria filled me in as she came to my side. Her dress had been torn but she would fix it herself once she had the chance to recover her psychic power. Beyond that and a few scrapes that had already begun to scab over, she was in good health.


    "Don''t get up," I told the little dinosaur. "You probably injured your spine. Trying to get up will make things worse for you."


    "Chiko-rita. Chiko," he said. He tried for a moment but I placed a hand on his head and gently but firmly pushed him back down.


    "The best thing you can do right now is rest."


    "Chi? Rita-chiko."


    "Kir-Kirlia, kirlia-kir," Artoria replied.


    I let them talk things out while we waited for the rangers. It didn''t escape my notice that he was the only chikorita that was seriously injured. Was he their protector? Big brother?


    Either way, his admiration for my starter was plain to see. I had a feeling I knew what was coming.


    ''I wonder what his dream will be?''


    Author''s Note


    Really short chapter, but I think it''s a good stopping place.


    I''m not a huge fan of pokemon fics where the human MC is a DB-esque warrior too, but at the same time, Aaron''s been building to that. That said, I love Ruroni Kenshin so if I had to give Aaron a fantasy sword style, it''d probably be Hiten Mitsurugi-Ryu. Sure, it''s not the strongest in fiction or anything, but that''s a plus in my book.


    If it wasn''t obvious, yeah, the chikorita is the fifth (depending on if you count the egg) member of the team. I suppose he doesn''t really have an archetype. If Artoria is the Knight, Jeanne is the Idol, and Durvasa is the Sage, this one is¡­ kind of ambiguous. I do have a picture of his personality in mind, but a single word that captures his archetype eludes me. I''m sure it''ll come to me eventually.


    Animal fact? Nah. Have a star fact: The sun, via nuclear reaction, loses about four million tons of mass per second. I know that when we talk about comic book characters, battleboarders like to say someone is "star-level," but I think very few people realize how absurdly powerful that would really be.


    You know what weighs that much? About 790,055 elephants. Or 33,424 blue whales. Or 471 Eiffel Towers.


    The sun yeets 471 Eiffel Towers across the solar system each second. Respect it.


    Thank you for reading. To reach a wider audience, and because I enjoy a more forum-like setup to facilitate discussion, I like to crosspost to a wide variety of websites. You can find them all on my Link Tree: https://linktr.ee/fabled.webs.</a>

 4.14 Fish

    Aaron¡¯s Pokemon


    - Artoria (Kirlia)


    - Jeanne (Flaaffy)


    - Durvasa (Mankey)


    - Poached (Egg)


    Fish 4.14


    Aaron Fulan


    Petalburg Woods


    ¡°Cacturne bait, how¡¯s it going?¡± Ranger Wheldon called. He and Ranger Acosta arrived on Acosta¡¯s pidgeot with the howl of a whirlwind. ¡°You¡¯ve been busy.¡±


    ¡°Hey, Ranger Wheldon,¡± I greeted back. ¡°We really need to stop meeting like this.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re bad luck; I told you so.¡±


    ¡°Knock it off, Wheldon,¡± Acosta groused. ¡°Kid, report, tell us what the hell happened.¡±


    I waved to the group of chikorita. Artoria had smashed the Rock Tomb imprisoning them so they could amble about. Though by the way they refused to meet the big one¡¯s eyes, there was some bad blood there.


    ¡°We found the poachers and decided to act before they could get their hands on more pokemon from the forest,¡± I said. ¡°I know the smart move would have been to wait for you and let them take the chikorita, but I couldn¡¯t sit still.¡±


    ¡®My lord, we were the ones who acted without your command,¡¯ Artoria protested.


    ¡®Maybe, but you¡¯re my pokemon. It¡¯s not like I disapprove of your actions here.¡¯


    Acosta spat on the ground in frustration. ¡°Yeah, you¡¯re one of them heroic types, eh?¡±


    ¡°Ahaha, I guess so? I never really thought of myself that way.¡±


    ¡°Kid, what would you have done if they had more pokemon?¡±


    ¡°I would have fought until we could withdraw safely,¡± I said.


    ¡°And if you couldn¡¯t?¡±


    ¡°Then I would have tried to grab the duffel bags and freed the wild pokemon to fight with me.¡±


    ¡°Risky. They¡¯d all be terrified. Panicked. They could lash out at you just as easily as against the poachers.¡±


    ¡°It was a last resort.¡±


    Wheldon¡¯s eyes went to the poachers. Each sported broken bones and weeping cuts. ¡°Did you get your mankey to do this? Aaron, there are laws against pokemon attacking humans.¡±


    ¡°I am aware of the laws.¡± I walked over and drew my sword before placing it side by side against one of the poachers¡¯ hands. He¡¯d been the one who threw his backpack at me at the start. My retaliatory stab had pierced the hand, leaving a wound that could never have come from a mankey¡¯s short claws. ¡°I¡¯d never have my pokemon attack a human unless it¡¯s a matter of life or death. I was the one who did this to them.¡±


    ¡°You¡­ With that?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Ranger Acosta saw me parry strikes from a scyther, remember? Why does this surprise you?¡±


    ¡°Because you¡¯re a kid! You¡¯re what? Thirteen?¡±


    ¡°I am very well-trained.¡±


    Ranger Wheldon looked like he wanted a beer. Or maybe something stronger. I felt bad for him a little. Counting the ursaring incident, this was the second time he¡¯d had to deal with my bullshit. And, truthfully, his concerns were fully legitimate. If any normal child casually beat two men unconscious, it would be a serious cause for worry.


    ¡®I¡¯m pretty sure he thinks I¡¯m a sociopath now,¡¯ I said dryly.


    ¡®How rude. We did their jobs,¡¯ Artoria sniffed.


    ¡®He thinks I¡¯m a normal kid, not a man who¡¯s been swinging a sword longer than he¡¯s been alive.¡¯


    ¡®Age is but a number.¡¯


    ¡®And what an unfavorable number it is.¡¯


    Ranger Acosta spoke next. ¡°Look, kid, it¡¯s good that you¡¯re alright, but we¡¯re still going to have to write this up.¡±


    ¡°I understand, sir. Will the report be public?¡±


    ¡°You want to keep your name out of this? You¡¯ll receive a sizable bounty for helping us of course, but if you let your name get out, you might gain a following for yourself.¡±


    ¡°I do,¡± I nodded. ¡°If you don¡¯t mind, I¡¯d appreciate it if the full report was sent to my mother and your superiors but went no further than that.¡±


    ¡°Most trainers try to make a name for themselves as early on in their journeys as they can.¡±


    ¡°Most trainers are looking for sponsors. I have one in the Mossdeep Gym already.¡±


    ¡°Alright, kid. Look,¡± he put a hand on my shoulder. He was probably trying to do the grizzled old father figure passing on his life lessons look, but he just couldn¡¯t cut it. ¡°You did good. Whatever else can be said here, you acted to protect others. You saved everyone and no one important got too hurt. You¡¯re alright in my book.¡±


    ¡°But¡­?¡±


    ¡°But you were lucky. You have two badges. You went into a crisis situation which would have merited your third at the bare minimum. Do you understand that?¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir. I need to get stronger.¡±


    ¡°Then that¡¯s all I¡¯ll say. Next time, and I have no delusion to the contrary, you make sure you don¡¯t need luck. Are we clear?¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir.¡±


    I decided then that Ranger Acosta was a good man.


    Things progressed quickly after that. Ranger Acosta released a few more pokemon to stand guard while he freed the ones the poachers had hoarded. His team consisted of that pidgeot, a tangrowth, vileplume, sceptile, and a volbeat of all things. From what I heard, he used to be a grass type specialist before deciding to branch out, and a damn good one at that.


    There were two scyther in the bag that caused some trouble but Acosta¡¯s tangrowth was able to hold them down with ease. The chikorita, usually seen as mediators in the forest, came in to help explain what had happened. Ranger Wheldon¡¯s roselia acted as a field medic with Life Dew for any who needed it.


    The biggest chikorita needed dedicated medical attention from a pokemon center but slapped aside Ranger Wheldon¡¯s pokeball with a Vine Whip.


    ¡°Hey, now, we don¡¯t have a way to treat you here,¡± Ranger Wheldon chided softly. He had that gentle, firm tone that I¡¯d seen some people take with spooked horses, for all the good that did.


    I motioned Artoria over. ¡°Maybe we can translate. If you don¡¯t mind, Artoria?¡±


    ¡°Kir,¡± she nodded. Her eyes glowed a gentle blue as she connected their minds.


    At first, we were worried that the chikorita had some trauma associated with pokeballs; a fear of capture would be a perfectly understandable thing to develop. Instead, he refused because he¡¯d already decided to leave the forest, and had picked out a trainer who was worthy in his eyes. To my surprise, he pointed at me.


    According to Artoria, he loathed his former herd-mates. He loathed their cowardice and meekness. He loathed the way they hid and refused to do anything as the poachers¡¯ battles with wild pokemon destroyed their matriarch¡¯s gravesite. And most of all, he loathed himself for being unable to take revenge on his own.


    I wasn¡¯t sure what to feel about all this. I¡¯d wanted my team to each have a dream worth pursuing and that was still true. And yet, for the moment, I had no choice but to ball him or he wouldn¡¯t come with us to the pokemon center.


    I let out a tired sigh. More than anything, at this point, I just wanted to get back to the city. ¡°Fine, we¡¯ll have a long chat later. For now, welcome to the team.¡±


    X


    With the crisis largely over, Ranger Acosta was kind enough to fly me to Rustboro on his pidgeot, saving me several days of walking.


    From above, the city didn¡¯t look like much. Rustboro¡¯s original builders, back from the Fragmentation Era, favored sandstone as their building material of choice as it was an easily obtainable material given their partnership with rock types. Even in the modern age, though there were far better materials available than mere sandstone, tan and tawny brown hues were favored for most buildings.


    Ranger Acosta dropped me off at the southernmost pokemon center. It was one of the largest I¡¯d seen so far, rivaled only by the one in Mauville City. Really, it could pass for a hotel crossed with a hospital. It had four floors and was formed in a large U-shape that wrapped around a spacious courtyard with two, regulation-sized battlefields.


    It didn¡¯t take long for the staff to give my team a clean bill of health. We were tired but more or less well. My new capture on the other hand, wouldn¡¯t be battling anytime soon.


    ¡°This chikorita is in terrible shape,¡± the nurse told us with heavy frown. I had a feeling that had I not come in with a ranger captain, I¡¯d be facing some pointed questions. ¡°You said he hit a tree with his back?¡±


    I nodded. ¡°Yes, that¡¯s what my kirlia told me. There was a nuzleaf who held a Bide, took a ton of punishment, and dropped all that power on him.¡±


    ¡°No wonder. The poor boy¡¯s spine is fractured. There is a broken piece of his vertebrae that is pressing into his spine and pinching the nerve. That¡¯s what¡¯s causing the partial paralysis.¡±


    ¡°That can be fixed, right?¡± Pokemon science could be amazing. It was well beyond the limitations of modern medicine from my old world. And yet¡­ ¡°I knew an ursaring that was injured. I think the rangers released her back to the forest but couldn¡¯t do anything about her missing eye or arm.¡±


    ¡°Poor thing, but that¡¯s different. Missing organs can¡¯t really be replaced barring extremely rare and expensive treatments that are largely in the experimental phase. A fractured spine is a problem, but all the pieces are still present so your chikorita will recover just fine.¡±


    The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    ¡°I see. That¡¯s a relief, nurse. Umm¡­ When can I expect him to recover?¡±


    ¡°A week, and even that¡¯s mostly to be on the safe side. I wouldn¡¯t battle with him for at least two, but pokemon are remarkably resilient, grass types especially.¡±


    ¡°Two weeks to completely recover from a broken spine?¡±


    She shrugged. ¡°I told you. Pokemon are incredibly resilient. I know chikorita isn¡¯t really a species we think of as being especially durable, but a pokemon is still a pokemon. Besides, grass types tend to be some of the best when it comes to recovery, both in battle and in general. A part of that has to do with their ability to draw nourishment constantly from the sun and soil. Have you heard of the moves Ingrain or Synthesis?¡±


    ¡°I have. I see, thank you so much.¡±


    ¡°Not a problem, young man. The rangers told us you got caught up in a scizor¡¯s rampage. You be careful, you hear?¡±


    I thanked her and snagged some food from the cafeteria before heading to our room with my new chikorita¡¯s ball. It was impressive how much pokemon could eat. Given they ate as much as a child my size, I needed a dolly to pull everything up to our room.


    I¡¯d decided to splurge a bit and bought some of the paid options available for better-tasting food. After the nonsense with the scyther and poachers, I thought we deserved it: garlic confit mashed potatoes, seared veluza filet caught during their migration season in Dewford, and an herb salad that supposedly included some of the local herbs that were once Rustboro¡¯s specialty. I¡¯d even secured four different types of berries and fresh alfalfa hay for Jeanne and the chikorita.


    I gently grabbed Jeanne by the horn and nudged her away from the feast. Artoria sat at attention, doing her best not to drool. Funnily enough, Duravasa was the member of my team who was the least swayed by good food. Ironic, considering I found the little bastard when he and his troupe tried to mug me for food.


    I held out the chikorita¡¯s ball. ¡°Before we dig in, we need to say hello to that chikorita. The doctor says he won¡¯t be walking for up to a week and might not be in any position to battle for even longer.¡±


    ¡°Man? Mankey?¡±


    ¡°WIll he be joining our team?¡±


    ¡°Key.¡±


    ¡°That depends,¡± I said, tossing the ball into the middle of the room. The chikorita appeared in a shimmer of light. ¡°Hey, there. You¡¯re in the pokemon center. How do you feel?¡±


    ¡°Chi¡­ Chiko¡­?¡± He looked around with eyes full of wonder. This was probably the first time he¡¯d ever left the forest before. It was a little like watching Durvasa discover the sea for the first time.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go ahead and eat dinner while we talk, alright?¡±


    ¡°Chiko.¡±


    Though he couldn¡¯t do much more than crawl, his vines easily carried all the food he wanted to him. I noticed that he favored herbs more than fruits, particularly those that had a fragrant note like rosemary.


    I leaned back and ate my seared veluza while my pokemon got to know one another. The flesh was flaky, with a bit more chew than I¡¯d have expected of salmon or tuna. Perhaps pokemon were naturally more muscled than their animal counterparts. There was a fair amount of awkwardness, as expected of all first meetings, but they got on well enough.


    From the snippets of conversation I could overhear via Artoria, the chikorita was reenacting the battle with great enthusiasm. Contrary to my expectations, he was not downtrodden nor depressed from his injury. Rather, he merely accepted it as a natural consequence of combat. In fact, he seemed to take a measure of pride in his injury; it was tangible proof that he''d fought as hard as he could. So long as he''d recover in time, even being partially paralyzed wasn¡¯t something to fuss over for him.


    ¡®He seems to have derived a great deal of satisfaction from combat,¡¯ Artoria pointed out.


    ¡®I can tell,¡¯ I replied. There was a palpable aura of vindictive glee around him as he explained why he fought so hard. ¡®Does this bother you? I think he might be even more of a battle-junkie than Durvasa.¡¯


    ¡®Perhaps if he simply enjoyed bloodshed for the sake of it, I would feel repulsed by his bloodlust, my lord. And yet, in this matter, I can only wonder how I might react should some knaves point their blades at Mossdeep. Would I not be just as wroth with them?¡¯


    ¡®Yes, context is very important. A scattered family. A destroyed grave. It¡¯s no wonder he¡¯d want payback,¡¯ Then, out loud, I addressed the chikorita. ¡°Chikorita, we will be in Rustboro for at least two weeks. There is a gym badge to win and some friends to meet up with. When you''ve fully recovered, I can return you back to the forest. Would you like that?¡±


    ¡°Chi! Chikorita!¡± He shook his head emphatically.


    ¡°Why not? You can meet your family again.¡±


    ¡®He is of the opinion that they are traitors to his matriarch''s memories. They are cowards and he does not wish to associate with them any longer.¡¯


    I hummed in thought. ¡°Is that right¡­ So why me? You could join the rangers, you know. They can make you strong; they''re all more experienced trainers than me. Ranger Acosta, that man with the pidgeot? He¡¯s a former grass type specialist. He would know all the best ways to train you. And, you could even stay in Petalburg Woods. Your familiarity with the land and locals would make you a valuable ally here. If you join me, you''ll be leaving your home behind, maybe forever.¡±


    He chewed over a slice of persim berry leaf before telling Artoria something. I didn¡¯t know that persim leaves could be eaten. I was momentarily tempted to try one for myself before deciding against it.


    ¡®He admires you, my lord, as he should,¡¯ she translated, her own faith in me washing over my mind like a gentle wave. ¡®A human who dares to take up arms is his ideal trainer.¡¯


    I nodded slowly. That kind of mentality was more commonly found among fighting types, but there was nothing normal about my team anyway. I should have expected something like this. ¡°That¡¯s understandable. I don¡¯t mind you joining the team, but I demand only one thing from my pokemon: Each and every one of you must have a dream, something more than power to strive for.¡±


    ¡°Chiko¡­ ri¡­ ta¡­? Chiko?¡±


    ¡®Is it not enough that he wishes to fight alongside a band of brothers?¡¯


    ¡°No, it isn''t,¡± I confirmed. ¡°Though it is an understandable thing to want, and you''ll certainly find that fraternity with us, I want you to find a reason to live for yourself, something to look forward to beyond the next battle.¡±


    He looked completely lost at that. It was as though he''d never considered something between the two extremes of his battlelust and his herd''s role as pacifistic nurturers. As countercultural as it was for him, I was looking at a chikorita who genuinely enjoyed fighting.


    What a group of oddballs my team was turning out to be¡­


    ¡°Is there anything you''ve ever wanted? Anything you feel would give your life meaning?¡±


    ¡°Rii¡­¡± He looked at my other pokemon in open question. ¡°Korita?¡±


    ¡°Artoria wants to become a knight, as powerful as her father. Jeanne wants to outshine the sun, which she has taken to mean she wants to become a contest star who is renowned all throughout Hoenn.¡±


    ¡°Flaaf,¡± Jeanne said, giving me a light nudge with her horns. A tingle of static ran up my arm.


    ¡°The world,¡± I corrected myself. ¡°How can the sun shine on only one land?¡±


    ¡°Flaaffy flaaf,¡± she nodded smugly.


    ¡°And Durvasa? He wants to master his rage and achieve enlightenment. He is doing everything from meditation to learning to read human writing to broaden his perspective. He believes that knowledge and wisdom will help offset his own nature. What about you? What do you seek?¡±


    That got him thinking. After several minutes, he said, ¡°Kori-Chiko. Chikorita.¡±


    ¡°Translation please?¡±


    ¡®The matriarch spoke of her own travels on occasion,¡¯ Artoria said dutifully. ¡®She and her trainer came here from a land to the east. In that land is a forest, as expansive as this one. In that forest is a shrine dedicated to the Great Forest Guardian. He wishes to visit his matriarch''s homeland one day.¡¯


    ¡®A land to the east¡­? Does he mean Johto?¡¯


    ¡®Perhaps, my lord. He does not remember the names humans assigned to the place.¡¯


    ¡®Ilex Forest is in Johto and is the home of Celebi, a legendary grass pokemon.¡¯


    ¡®Is that a worthy goal, my lord?¡¯


    I nodded. ¡°Johto, chikorita, us humans call that land Johto. There, where your species comes from, is a forest called Ilex. In that forest is a shrine to Celebi, a grass pokemon of immense power. I think that is the ¡®Great Forest Guardian¡¯ your matriarch was talking about.¡±


    ¡°Chico-ri. Ta.¡±


    ¡®The matriarch met the Great Forest Guardian. She, alongside her trainer, was acknowledged by her.¡¯


    ¡®That¡­ makes a strange sort of sense. Celebi is a pacifist. Despite the ridiculous power she possesses, she¡¯d much prefer to avoid conflict at all. And, given she has some limited ability to travel through time, she succeeds more often than not,¡¯ I said as I recalled what I¡¯d seen of the Legend. ¡®If there is any species of pokemon that specific Legend would favor over others, it would be the chikorita line.¡¯


    ¡®Truly? Then would such a benign entity appreciate a more warlike individual like him?¡¯


    ¡®Who knows? I¡¯d be interested in finding out though.¡¯


    ¡®Then let us journey past the horizon together, my lord.¡¯


    ¡°Chuuni,¡± I said with a smile. I pulled Artoria to my side and offered her the cleaning cloth so she could go about polishing her spoon. ¡°You need a name, chikorita. Let¡¯s see¡­ a battle-junkie like you¡­ and I did draw inspiration from mythical figures¡­ How about Khorne?¡±


    ¡°Chiko?¡±


    ¡®Corn, my lord?¡¯


    ¡°Khorne, not Corn. It¡¯s spelled a little differently, though I admit you being a grass type makes this funnier. In a fictional story, Khorne is one of the four chaos gods. He is called the Lord of Skulls and the Blood God. His domains include battle in all its aspects. He is the god of bloodshed and wanton slaughter, but also the god of glory, honorable combat, and righteous wrath. How about it? Think you can do that name justice?¡±


    My newest companion mulled it over. It appealed to him, I could see that, but he ultimately shook his head. ¡°Chiko-ri. Rita.¡±


    ¡®He says that the name runs counter to what you asked of him. His dream is to see the land of his ancestors, to pay his respects at the shrine of the Great Forest Guardian. If that is to be his dream, he must be more than a warrior,¡¯ Arotria translated with an approving nod. ¡®I agree, my lord. Please do not name my new brother just so you can make a pun on his type.¡¯


    ¡°Fine, fine, sorry. You¡¯re right, you deserve more than a silly pun. Someone who seeks what lies beyond the horizon, hmm? Well, how about Magellan? He was a legendary explorer and navigator, best known for being the first to circle the world.¡±


    ¡°Chiko!¡± he replied with an eager nod.


    With that, I made sure my team was comfortable and left them to get to know each other on their own. The reward money for our little misadventure would come through in a few days, but as far as I was concerned, my real prize was Magellan.


    Meganium were some of the least popular starters, but this wasn¡¯t a game. I refused to believe one of Johto¡¯s starters was so far inferior to the others. No, if no one had found a way to make one shine, then I¡¯d simply be the first.


    I looked forward to seeing how Magellan grew.


    I typed up a quick report for mom. She¡¯d want a more in-depth call later, but this was good enough for now. My pokenav buzzed as I was about to put it down.


    XO-CloudDancer-OX: Hey, Aaron, what¡¯s up?


    Sir_Aaron: Lisia? Not much. We just got into Rustboro. Got a new pokemon. It¡¯ll be a while before he fully recovers, but I¡¯m already thinking of a good training regimen for him. What¡¯s up with you?


    XO-CloudDancer-OX: (??? ?? ???)wow!*? No fair! How¡¯d you get to Rustboro so fast? And who¡¯s your new pokemon? Pic! Now!


    Sir_Aaron: You¡¯re coming down from Fallarbor, right? A ranger and his pidgeot gave me a lift. As for my new teammate, you¡¯ll have to wait ¡®til you get here.


    XO-CloudDancer-OX: Fine, meanie. We want to take care of a few things here first. There¡¯s a small glass-blowing festival that should be awesome to visit. Chaz and I will be there in a few days for the contest. Let¡¯s meet up then.


    SIr_Aaron: Sure, why not. If we see each other in the battle round, Jeanne¡¯s going to roast Ali alive.


    XO-CloudDancer-OX: Noo! I have my ways, you jerk. Winona taught me how to deal with electric attacks!


    Sir_Aaron: I¡¯ll just have to get creative then. I¡¯m a little beat from Petalburg Woods so I¡¯m going to get some sleep. Good night, Lisia.


    XO-CloudDancer-OX: Night, Aaron.


    Author¡¯s Note


    Celebi technically doesn¡¯t have a gender. In its appearance in PMD: Explorers of Time/Darkness, it is referred to as female. In PMD: Super Mystery Dungeon, it is referred to as male. Though the Time/Darkness one is a shiny, it predates the SMD appearance so for our purposes, Celebi is female.


    Yes, I know what some of you pedantic nerds will say. ¡°Celebi is a Mythical, not a Legend.¡± Fuck you; it¡¯s a Legend and the distinction is completely irrelevant for lore purposes. The Pokemon Company has always made this distinction in Japanese media but only recently (relatively) started in global translations, which is where the confusion comes from.


    The sole distinction between a Legend and a Mythical is that a Legend is a pokemon you can capture in the game through normal means while a Mythical is an event-exclusive pokemon. The Mythical categorization is pointless as its roster shares no commonalities beyond ¡°available via Mystery Gift.¡± Some examples are Mew, Deoxys, Darkrai, Arceus, DIancie, Zarude, and Pecharunt. Which means that, until Legends Arceus, Arceus used to be a Mythical, but is now a Legend. See why that distinction is stupid?


    Yes, I¡¯m aware that Magellan in fact died on his expedition. His expedition was the first to circle the globe, so he gets credit anyway.


    Thank you for reading. To reach a wider audience, and because I enjoy a more forum-like setup to facilitate discussion, I like to crosspost to a wide variety of websites. You can find them all on my Link Tree: https://linktr.ee/fabled.webs.</a>

 4.15 Fish

    Aaron''s Pokemon


    - Artoria (Kirlia)


    - Jeanne (Flaaffy)


    - Durvasa (Mankey)


    - Pickled (Egg)


    - Magellan (Chikorita)


    Fish 4.15


    Aaron Fulan


    Rustboro City


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


    "Chiko?"


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


    "Chi." He nodded with a determined scowl.


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


    "Chi-Chikorita?"


    "Why?"


    "Ko."


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


    "Chikorita."


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


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


    "Flaaf."


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


    And yet, seeing and being were two different things.


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


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


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


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


    "You know, Jeanne?"


    "Flaaf?"


    "I wonder what would happen if I introduced Beat Saber to this world?"


    "Flaaffy?"


    "Show me your Electro Ball."


    "Flaaf," she nodded.


    It formed within a second, a sign of her increasing mastery. The ball spun swiftly, an imperfect copy of the Rasengan. Or perhaps, more perfect than Naruto had at the start? After all, Jeanne didn''t need to add an element to it. Either way, it lacked the density and merely dispersed rather than grind a target to dust. Still, not bad for a work in progress.


    I slid into a familiar stance. Iaido, or battojutsu, was perhaps the most dramatized sword technique in fiction, but wasn''t I in a fictional world? Didn''t I have access to aura? What was keeping me from pulling all the fantasy nonsense I wanted from my ass?


    If there was one thing I had absolute confidence in, it was my sword. I wouldn''t doubt myself now. What was it Artoria said? She would cleave mountains? Whether that was doable for a human or not, it sounded like a fine goal to aspire to, a very Aaron goal.


    "Good, now toss it in the air."


    When she did so, I tracked it for a moment before lashing out. My sword, suffused with my aura to make up for its lack of an edge, became an azure flash in the air. It cleaved the Electro Ball perfectly in half, sending a shower of sparks along the arc of the blade.


    "Flaaffy!" Jeanne cheered, tail thumping against the ground. "Flaaf?"


    "Are we going to do this in the contest?"


    "Flaaf."


    "Maybe? But not more than once." I shook out my hand with a rueful smile. "I wasn''t sure how much feedback I''d get, but some of the shock carried through the sword. It is metal after all."


    If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    "Flaaf," she bleated in disappointment.


    "Hey, don''t worry. It doesn''t hurt much, just a sting. Think of this as a proof of concept. One day, when I become good enough at this reinforcement stuff and you master a few songs, we''ll have a choreographed duel on stage, set to music and everything."


    "Flaaffy? Flaaf!"


    "Good, let''s get to work. I know Mary Had a Little Lamb isn''t much, but it''s a start. We''ll work up from there, okay?"


    And so, we practiced. Jeanne had no special talent when it came to music, but she did have dedication and stubbornness in spades. This was the sole tune she could play, but it was becoming smoother and clearer with each repetition.


    Once she had the song down pat, we threw in elements from her old routine. Her wool held its charge at different frequencies, changing the tune from when she used Electro Ball to make her music. Some notes had to be struck with Cotton Spore instead of Electro Ball, and vice versa, but Jeanne simply accepted that as a coordination exercise.


    We still used Electric Terrain, but it now served as more than a ground-bound spotlight. It was also our bass. As a flaaffy, her tail was much longer and more articulate than a mareep''s. By storing the opposite charge in her tail bulb as the ground, she could make a droning, buzzing sound that changed with the bulb''s proximity to the ground.


    As for me, I was taking a crash course in conducting. There were enough tutorials online that, hopefully, I wouldn''t look completely ridiculous by the time the contest rolled around. The intricacies of the profession flew far above my head, but I could pick up the basics well enough.


    For example, there was no hard and fast rule about batons. Many preferred bare hands and so would I. The right hand was used to keep the flow of music steady while the left should remain still, not mirror the right. That way, the left hand could be used for emphasis or for cues to bring in new sections of the orchestra.


    This wasn''t an orchestra and there were no other sections of course, but Jeanne did have a tail. I could use my left hand to introduce the droning bass, and also teach her to control its volume, or power output, by following the elevation of my hand. It wasn''t perfect; I was so green that Magellan might bite me by accident, but damn if the look of pure delight on Jeanne didn''t make it all worthwhile.


    My outfit would also need a makeover. I''d have to ditch the comfy cargo pants I preferred for traveling. The Mossdeep Gym''s logo needed to stay of course, but I would also be foregoing its uniform. Really, who decided on a hybrid of sweats and yi fu, anyway?


    Instead, I made a note to buy myself a new outfit when I could find the time, maybe a pair of charcoal-gray slacks and a matching blazer with a royal-blue shirt for a splash of color. I did need to pay homage to my home, so I''d attach a pin with the gym''s emblem to my breast pocket. It didn''t exactly scream out my personality to the world like Lisia''s outfit, but it was better than what I wore in the previous contests. The least I could do was look professional.


    X


    We spent three days training like madmen. Artoria spent most of that time in an introspective mood, learning to harness the inner selfishness of the fae. It was not uncommon to find her staying up at night, staring up at the moon that called to her kind. And when she wasn''t doing that, she was teaching Durvasa to read.


    My sage had taken to the literary arts in fits and starts. His lack of patience was something we''d already expected. His stubbornness easily outstripped his impatience however, and he forced himself to focus, expanding his mind as much as his body. Not only did he master Fire Punch to an acceptable level, he was able to write simple sentences to me. To reward him, I got him an e-reader of his own so I could download articles for him to read when we were on the road.


    Halfway through the second day, Magellan completed his Rubik''s cube. He also got good enough to cut a deck of cards without spilling any with his vines.


    As promised, I upped his training by introducing the team to a familiar exercise. Five aluminum cans were posted behind Magellan. He was to play goalie with Vine Whip while Durvasa tried to strike them down with Swift. It was a win-win: Durvasa could practice his accuracy with his sole ranged attack. Magellan could get in some valuable practice without having to move.


    Then, three days after I arrived in Rustboro and two days before the contest, Lisia and Chaz reached Rustboro. They were able to grab rooms at the pokemon center I was staying in, something that turned out to be a mixed blessing.


    "Do you do this every morning, Aaron?" I heard Lisia behind me as Artoria and I bowed to each other. She''d been kind enough to wait for us to finish our current set.


    We were in one corner of the quad, practicing the gohon-me, the fifth of seven orthodox kendo kata that pit tachi against tachi. We''d been up for an hour and a half already and had been going through the fifth for almost as long. It was good to dedicate a day to a single kata on occasion to lock it into our memories.


    Interestingly enough, the Kantoan kendo I learned from dad''s contact in Mossdeep used almost the same katas I remembered learning in my past life. There were subtle differences, but the similarities were somewhat disappointing. I''d hoped that with far more dangerous fauna and the provable existence of aura, the sword arts of this world would be more advanced. The similarities told me that kendo had largely been relegated to a ceremonial sport, much as in my past life.


    If I wanted to become a true anime swordsman, with all the ridiculousness that implied, I''d have to figure things out on my own. It was a goal of mine, one I had a feeling would come naturally as I helped my team achieve their own dreams.


    I turned to Lisia with a smile. She had seemingly made fast friends with Jeanne; my lamb was leaning into her hand, begging for headpats. Durvasa sat a ways off, reading a Petalburg wilderness guide, while Magellan eyed us with intense envy. Not being able to move was driving the poor dino spare.


    All around Lisia were four pokemon, hers presumably. Ali the swablu was a given. He perched atop his mistress'' head like a fluffy hat and softly trilled a soothing song. On her lap, competing for her headpats with Jeanne, was a clamperl that seemed cheerful despite being out of water. A ducklett sat opposite Jeanne, pruning its feathers as it looked at us with detached interest. Finally, a slugma bubbled on the ground by her feet, close enough to warm her feet but far enough to not scorch her without having to leash its own heat.


    I walked over to my bag and pulled out two towels before tossing one to Artoria. "Every morning. Thanks for waiting, by the way. I appreciate you not cutting in mid-practice."


    She shook her head in denial, her sea-green tresses bouncing merrily. "No, I should be the one thank you for letting us watch. That was incredible! I can tell you and Artoria practiced a ton!"


    "We do. Are these your teammates?"


    "Yup! Let me introduce you! You know Ali of course. This little gal on my lap is Pearl."


    "Not very creative."


    "Hey, she likes the name so it''s fine."


    "Of course, that''s the most important thing. How about the others? A ducklett and a slugma, huh?"


    "Grace and Ruby. Grace is a sweetheart, even if she likes her space. Ruby would give me a hug every moment of every day if he could, but he''s not quite that good at controlling what he burns just yet. He''s the youngest on the team so he has time."


    "I''ll bet. How''d you find a clamperl though? I thought those lived far below the sea."


    "Uncle Wall sent her over. She''s the daughter of my uncle''s walrein and his gym trainer''s gorebyss. He''s been looking for a good trainer for a while and said she''s more interested in contests than battling so we were a perfect match!" she chirped happily.


    She then proceeded to tell me about how she met Grace and Ruby as well. The slugma was definitely the odd one out. A swanna and gorebyss fit Lisia thematically and I could see the two becoming excellent contest pokemon, but I had no idea what she planned to do with a magcargo. They weren''t exactly known for "star power."


    Then again, if anyone could make it happen, it was this girl in front of me. Lisia Mikuri was a superstar in the making. And, like anyone else who stood atop the pokemon world, it would be because she was amazing, because she could bring out the best in her team, not merely because she happened to have the right pokemon. I looked forward to seeing her team''s growth.


    "Where''s Chaz?" I asked. The two had arrived the night prior, just in time to catch my evening training. The prickly boy had been quite shocked when he saw me trying to stab Durvasa with a sword to hone his Detect. He''d called me an uncouth boor and hadn''t spoken to me since.


    "Ehehe, he doesn''t usually wake up until ten."


    I struggled to understand. I felt my respect for the boy dropping already. "How? How does he find the time to travel and train if he doesn''t wake up early? He''s losing a good four hours of daylight."


    "We¡­ don''t? We took a helicopter over Mt. Chimney, Aaron."


    "You''re kidding. Why?"


    "Hey, some of us don''t like walking for eight hours a day," she huffed.


    "Fine, but I still think he should wake up early enough to at least train his machop."


    "He practices his routine in the afternoon."


    That didn''t feel right. Many pokemon lived for battle. Or if not, then self-improvement of some sort. They were naturally competitive, at least in their youth. The idea that Chaz would spend most of his day not training seemed insane, half-hearted, like he wasn''t truly serious about being a trainer.


    ''I''m not pushing you all too hard, am I?'' I asked Artoria, feeling a little self-conscious. Was I the weird one? Was I the one who was being unreasonable?


    ''Of course not, my lord. Do you believe any of us would really sit still for most of a day?''


    ''No, I guess not.''


    ''It helps that not all of our training sessions require physical exertion. I meditate, as does Duravasa. We read. Jeanne practices music.''


    ''That''s true. I guess it feels weird to hear that my so-called rival in the contest circuit doesn''t train as hard.''


    She sniffed at that. ''He is hardly a rival. Lisia is far worthier of that title, as was Onale the bard.''


    I was brought out of our conversation by Lisia waving a hand over my face. "Hello~ Aaron? Are you and Artoria having a private conversation again?"


    "Ah, sorry," I said. "I was just wondering if other people only trained once per day like Chaz. He also seemed pretty upset when he saw me swing at Durvasa yesterday."


    "I train every morning and evening. And I''ve seen Uncle Wall''s elite team train too. They hit each other way harder than you hit Durvasa. I mean, yeah, he''s not evolved yet, but pokemon are tough," she shrugged. "I''m not bothered by your methods if that''s what you''re asking."


    "Okay, because I remember mom''s elite team as well. So maybe it''s just a cultural difference."


    "Probably? Are you ready for the contest?"


    "I am. I still need to buy a suit though. I haven''t had time yet, what with making some last minute edits to our routine and our regular training."


    Her eyes sparkled at that. She grabbed me by the arm and shot to her feet. "Yes! We can grab lunch and then tour the city. Oh, and get you a proper outfit of course."


    "Lisia, I''m not going to be your dress-up doll," I said patiently.


    "They all say that. Don''t worry, Aaron, I''m a style expert."


    "''They?'' Who''s ''they?''"


    "Everyone. Who do you think does Uncle Wall''s hair?"


    "His professional, highly qualified, laughably overpaid stylist."


    "Well, yes, but I also learned!"


    "And what does that have to do with clothes?"


    She looked at me like I was a filthy stray, picked up from the pouring rain out of the goodness of her heart and brought in from the cold. She placed a comforting hand on my shoulder. "Oh, Aaron, you have so much to learn."


    I looked into her eyes, so pure and sweet, and came to a single, undeniable conclusion: "I''m in danger."


    Author''s Note


    Did you know meganium can learn Swords Dance? And Outrage? It''s terrible in competitive play, but it''s an option. Thankfully, I don''t have to care about competitive.


    Yi fu is what you call a kung fu uniform, just like a karate uniform is called a gi. For whatever reason, Nintendo decided that Tate and Liza should wear a matching set.


    Wallace does indeed have a walrein, though only in the PWT in gen5.


    Hey. Hey, you. Yeah, you. Wanna hear something funny?


    See, there were three mice brothers. One day, they were exploring an abandoned home and found a bottle. To their shock, a genie emerged from the bottle and said, "Whoever released me may have three wishes."


    The oldest mouse shook his head. He said, "We are brothers. We should each share one wish."


    So, the genie agreed. He looked at the oldest mouse. "Okay, what do you want?"


    "I would like to be mighty and strong so I can protect my little brothers. Please make me an ox."


    "Granted." And so, the oldest brother became an ox.


    The second mouse stepped forward. He said, "Genie, I''ve always loved the sky. I know it''s dangerous, but I''ve always wanted to fly. Please make me a bird."


    "Granted." And so, the middle brother became a bird.


    The youngest mouse looked at the genie, then at himself. "I''m sorry, but I''m not sure what I want. I love being a mouse; we''re sneaky and fast, but my brothers are also right. Being strong, being able to fly, they''re both wonderful. Can I be all of them?"


    The genie nods. "Your wish is my command."


    And so, the youngest mouse became a sausage.


    Funny, right? No? I promise it''s funnier if you speak Korean.


    Thank you for reading. To reach a wider audience, and because I enjoy a more forum-like setup to facilitate discussion, I like to crosspost to a wide variety of websites. You can find them all on my Link Tree: https://linktr.ee/fabled.webs.</a>

 4.16 Fish

    Aaron¡¯s Pokemon


    - Artoria (Kirlia)


    - Jeanne (Flaaffy)


    - Durvasa (Mankey)


    - Soft-Boiled (Egg)


    - Magellan (Chikorita)


    Fish 4.16


    Aaron Fulan


    Rustboro City


    Lisia and I spent the morning doing some light training. Apparently, seeing my team work hard pushed hers to not fall behind. It was a good opportunity to watch someone else train, someone who had a distinctly different philosophy when it came to our shared profession.


    Wallace excluded, there really was a distinct difference between coordinators and trainers. The League made no distinction between battlers and coordinators, we were all ¡°trainers,¡± but it didn¡¯t need to. The populace did that well enough without an official ruling.


    In short, I saw my team, and myself, as swords that needed to be sharpened. We honed ourselves to a razor¡¯s edge through dedicated repetition, like a sword being scraped along a whetstone countless times until the swordsmith was satisfied. To that end, iron will and steel-like discipline were the things that defined my training. Even when I set up little games for my pokemon to play, there were ironclad rules and clear objectives.


    Not so with Lisia. If I was a swordsmith honing my pokemon, Lisia was a painter, an artist standing before a blank canvas. To my shock, she gave few orders. She literally told her team, ¡°Dance! Do whatever comes naturally to you. Use moves that resonate with you!¡±


    She was like one of those impressionist painters who began each masterpiece by grabbing random pails of paint and chucking them against the wall. The hilarious part of it all was that it worked.


    She would look at each pokemon for a moment, then come up with choreography that best used their unique body types and abilities. Like a painter who began with the background and slowly filled in the details, she focused down on the strengths of her team to bring out their best qualities.


    When Ruby the slugma breathed out a violet cloud of poison, she gently urged him weave ribbons of it. She had Ali using his wind and mist to disperse it unevenly, forming a purple and blue aurora around us that had us spellbound.


    It was awe-inspiring. It was something I¡¯d never seen before. Mother was so structured, psychic discipline and willpower that coordinated her training sessions with ruthless efficiency. Pops was full of wonder, always looking to the heavens with a scientific curiosity that I could never match. I was a sword, refined but cutting.


    Lisia¡¯s style was something I¡¯d never seen before, something I¡¯d never thought possible before. She told me that she had more structured moments, but she enjoyed doing this exercise to come up with new combinations, new choreographies that would take the judges¡¯ breath away. Her eyes positively sparkled with passion as she coached her team, as she painted a masterpiece.


    In that moment, I saw it: This was what made Lisia splendid. She didn¡¯t become a star in canon because she was beautiful, though she was that. Nor did she coast off her uncle¡¯s reputation. No, it was her ability to coax beauty out of chaos that truly made her stand out. Like a master painter, she could see the finished product amidst splotches of color.


    She had vision.


    Our training session came to an end when Chaz woke up and graced us with his presence. He was well-dressed in his trademark blue suit, with not a hair out of place. At his side was Macherie the machop, still wearing an oversized pink bow. He also had a venonat named Veronique and a growlithe named Smolder, two more pokemon than I¡¯d expected.


    ¡°Good morning, Lisia, Aaron,¡± he called.


    ¡°It¡¯s almost noon, Chaz,¡± she replied with a giggle.


    ¡°And thus it''s still morning, no? It takes effort to look this good, you know,¡± he said, tossing his head and causing his hair to flip to the side. Like straight out of a shampoo commercial. I didn¡¯t know people actually did that.


    ¡°Of course, of course. Have you had breakfast yet? Aaron and I were going to grab lunch soon before going shopping. He doesn¡¯t have his contest outfit yet.¡±


    Chaz gasped as though that personally offended him. ¡°How? Lisia said you have a ribbon already!¡±


    I shrugged. ¡°I mostly compete in my Mossdeep Gym uniform. Getting a new outfit really hasn¡¯t been a priority. The important part is that I show off my sponsor anyway.¡±


    ¡°You are such a boor. How can you expect the judges to see you at your best if you won¡¯t even put in the effort to dress well?¡±


    ¡°By the skill and strength of my pokemon. Jeanne¡¯s the one competing.¡±


    ¡°I pity her for having such a boor for a trainer.¡±


    ¡°And I pity Macherie for having a fop who can¡¯t even fight as hers.¡±


    ¡°Excuse me?¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s a fighting type. Throwing hands is in her blood. She¡¯d probably be thrilled to start training seriously.¡±


    ¡°We do train seriously!¡±


    I sideyed him with a languid smile. ¡°Care to back that talk? There¡¯s a difference between practicing a choreographed routine and learning to fight. I¡¯d bet money on Durvasa over Macherie any day of the week even though you¡¯ve had your machop a lot longer than I¡¯ve had my mankey.¡±


    ¡°Now, now, boys, you¡¯re both pretty,¡± Lisia cut in before we could really start to argue. She grabbed us both by the arm and began to drag us off.


    X


    I learned three things about Chaz Rosemund that day: First, like Lisia and I, he was a product of his environment. He looked like a pompous, diamond spoon brat because that¡¯s exactly what he was. Apparently, Rosemund Enterprises was a major investor in the advertising, cosmetics, and public relations industries. His family has had a finger in the contest circuit pie for twenty years now. Though his family wasn¡¯t known for being pokemon trainers, it had its sphere of influence.


    Second, Chaz Rosemund had no idea how to interact with people outside of his elite social clubs. I found that out when he insisted on hearing my ideas for a costume. To my surprise, he worked with Lisia to give me a few recommendations, peppered with plenty of backhanded compliments. It took me a while to realize that he was even trying to help at all, what with him constantly calling me a ¡°styleless boor¡± and ¡°sword-idiot.¡± I tried not to take offense; he was right after all.


    I quickly figured out that a charcoal-gray suit with a blue shirt would just make me look like an inverse of Chaz and scrapped the idea. With their help, I settled on a fitted suit of mostly grays and blacks with muted, pink and blue accents that would match the Mossdeep Gym logo.


    Lisia also got me a bandana to wrap around my neck. It was dark-blue with the Mossdeep badge embroidered throughout for ¡°contrast and a pop of color,¡± not that I had a clue what she was talking about, or why I needed that and a tie. Then again, when Hoenn¡¯s next pop idol gave you style advice, you didn¡¯t say no.


    The grudging admission of ¡°tolerable,¡± was probably as best as I¡¯d ever get from Chaz.


    Third, Chaz had it bad for Lisia. It was so painfully obvious that I could only assume Lisia was as dense as a black hole; there was no other way she could have missed his pining. Or maybe she did know, didn¡¯t know how she wanted to respond to a friend having such a blatant crush, and was going with the tried-and-true ostrich approach. She was, no matter how talented, still just a thirteen year old girl after all.


    After lunch, I took them to a rock candy store, a Rustboro specialty. The originals were apparently made with mountain springwater that made them rich in minerals beyond just sugar. They were also supposed to be consumed when a mother learned she was expecting so that her children would be ¡°as stout as stone and as sweet as sugar.¡±


    Or maybe the shopkeeper was lying to me. Either could be true, to be honest.


    These weren¡¯t anything special, just sugar crystals hardened and flavored via evaporating syrup, but they looked really pretty. The priciest crystal candies were shaped into gems and fitted onto necklaces and tiaras made of brass that children could wear, though the shopkeeper did say they could get sticky in the sun and warned us not to take them out of their wrappers. To the untrained eye, they really did look like precious stones.


    I picked out a few ¡°sapphires¡± and ¡°pink amethysts¡± that reminded me of the gym and the twins. ¡°They¡¯re very pretty, mister. Do you have any that fit into gift boxes?¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± the old man said. He could smell a sale. ¡°Who¡¯s it for? Maybe that lovely, young lady behind you?¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re for my family in Mossdeep. These can be shipped just fine, right?¡±


    ¡°Yes, they can. How many would you like?¡±


    ¡°Four. Two for my younger siblings and two for my parents.¡±


    ¡°That was really sweet of you, Aaron,¡± Lisia said as we walked away. We had smaller sticks of rock candy that we were sucking on. ¡°How are Tate and Liza?¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re great. I¡¯m pretty sure Tate¡¯s winning their prank war. Liza¡¯s not sneaky enough to get around Tate¡¯s precognition.¡±


    ¡°H-Hey, Lisia?¡± Chaz said, tapping her shoulder. He had a rock candy necklace of his own, studded with sugar crystals that looked like turquoise gems. ¡°I got you this. They reminded me of you. Your eyes are the same shade, and even more beautiful.¡±


    I had to give him props. He managed to say that with barely a stutter. I didn¡¯t think I was that confident at thirteen.


    Lisia took it with a confused smile that quickly transformed into bubbly cheer. ¡°Oh, thanks? How¡¯d you know I have a sweet tooth? I¡¯ll be nibbling on these for a week. Oh! Let me pay you back! This looks really expensive!¡±


    ¡°No, I couldn¡¯t. It¡¯s a gif-¡±


    ¡°I insist!¡± Lisia said, practically shoving the money in Chaz¡¯s suit pocket. She browbeat Chaz with the force of her personality, forcing him to take the money and turning what could have been a romantic gesture into a snack between friends.


    It went like that for a while. Everywhere we went, Chaz tried some way to impress her, whether it was with treats or trying to show he was the best at the arcade. I was pretty sure he pulled a muscle on the punching machine. His questions to a traditional tea merchant about the language of teas and flowers, and romance in particular, were especially cringe-inducing.


    For her part, Lisia deflected his attempts at seduction like a master fencer. Had this been a duel of swords, I would have declared her a prodigy and offered her lessons. There was affection in her aura, but that was directed towards us both so I had to assume it was platonic. There was also a hefty dose of uncertainty whenever she used her bubbliness as a shield.


    Had she been genuinely uncomfortable with Chaz, I might have intervened, but I saw the awkward dance of two teenagers who had no idea what to do with their feelings. I, being the wizened elder that I was, opted to enjoy their mutual suffering and laugh at them later.


    The courtship dance of the wild Hoenn teenager aside, that tea merchant was a real treat. She was old and gray, with hair as white as her shiftry¡¯s. After some smooth-talking, I got to try a unique experience: shiftry tea. Her partner of many decades literally dipped his hand inside a teapot to steep his fan-leaves. A few minutes later, I had a steaming cup of the stuff.


    The flavor was difficult to put into words. I was no great connoisseur of tea, but my time in Japan did make me rather familiar with the stuff. I¡¯d become a fan of ochazuke in particular. The flavor was minty and sharp, with a brightness that couldn¡¯t be found in normal, dried or roasted teas. It was an experience I¡¯d never had before, and one that made me wonder what Magellan tea would taste like.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    ¡°So how was the Feather Carnival?¡± I asked Lisia. ¡°You said you¡¯d tell me all about it once we met up.¡±


    ¡°Oh, yeah! Thanks for reminding me, Aaron,¡± she chirped. We were seated on a park bench, our pokemon let out to play. ¡°I learned so much from just watching Winona. Did you know that the difference between a flying type and a pokemon who happens to be able to fly is their innate mastery over the wind?¡±


    ¡°I mean, I¡¯d assume so? That affinity is what distinguishes psychics too, or any other type for that matter.¡±


    ¡°Well, yeah, but seeing it was something else. Her swellow, the one on her elite team, was sooo awesome! Like, she used Quick Attacks at supersonic speeds to make her own drumline!¡±


    ¡°Wait, how does that work? Wouldn¡¯t all sonic booms sound the same?¡±


    ¡°Not if swellow outraces its own sonic booms and uses Boomburst at the same time to set a different tempo. The impression we get on the ground is an entire drumline taking place in the sky.¡±


    ¡°That sounds incredible. I didn¡¯t know Winona had any interest in music. Could a skarmory¡¯s feathers be used to mimic cymbals then?¡±


    ¡°Yup! She did that too. The amount of control that takes¡­ Wow, I have goosebumps even thinking back to that,¡± she said with a happy shiver. ¡°How about you? How was Petalburg Woods? You walked the whole thing, right?¡±


    ¡°Kinda? I did the first time from Verdanturf to Oldale. I got my ribbon there. Then, I got my second badge from Norman and headed up through Petalburg again to Rustboro. But on that second trip, I ended up getting involved in an anti-poaching operation with the rangers. Fought some people, crossed swords with a scyther, it was wild.¡±


    ¡°You crossed swords¡­ with a scyther¡­?¡± she asked, trying to make sense of that statement.


    ¡°Poachers stirred up the local scyther swarm and they started attacking humans indiscriminately. I didn¡¯t really have a choice.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, right. A human can¡¯t beat a scyther,¡± Chaz scoffed. ¡°I might have believed you if you said your kirlia beat a scyther.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t lie, Chaz, not about things like this. Besides, how else would you explain Magellan there? He¡¯s one of the pokemon the rangers and I saved. He wanted to come with me and I¡¯ll be training him in earnest once his spine heals.¡±


    ¡°I can believe you found an injured chikorita, maybe even that you helped the rangers with something, but humans can¡¯t beat pokemon, Aaron.¡±


    ¡°I never said I beat a scyther. I said I crossed blades with one, and only for a few seconds. Honestly? If Ranger Acosta didn¡¯t arrive to save our asses, we¡¯d probably be dead. We ran into the poachers a few days after that, only to find they¡¯d cornered several chikorita. That¡¯s when my team intervened.¡±


    ¡°That still sounds like nonsense. I mean, finding a Johto starter in Petalburg is already incredibly fortunate.¡±


    I nodded. He was right, to be honest. The regions were open to travel, but that didn¡¯t mean it was common. Trainers did, and some pokemon too, but starters were starters because they were rare even in their native regions. And chikorita weren¡¯t exactly the kind of species known for bouts of wanderlust.


    ¡°Then don¡¯t believe me. I maintain that everything I said happened, happened,¡± I said with a shrug. I had nothing to prove, not to him. ¡°Anyway, after we saved the chikorita, we waited for the rangers and Ranger Acosta was kind enough to fly us the rest of the way here so I didn¡¯t walk the whole forest the second time around.¡±


    ¡°Sounds exciting,¡± Lisia said. ¡°I¡¯m kinda with Chaz on this one though. That story¡¯s a little hard to believe.¡±


    ¡°Suit yourselves. I agree that sounds like a lot.¡± I opted not to mention the mega stone. Or how I ended up saving Norman Maple¡¯s son. Really, put like that, my journey did sound improbably eventful. ¡°Say, Chaz, how about you? How¡¯d you get your first ribbon?¡±


    ¡°Heh, trying to scope out your biggest competition, I see,¡± he said with a confident smirk. ¡°You need to try harder than that, Aaron.¡±


    ¡°You know the contests are recorded and uploaded online, right?¡±


    ¡°No matter, Macherie and I are not the same as we were in Ambertown. That recording won¡¯t help you much against us.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not a contest, you guys,¡± Lisia said with an exasperated sigh.


    ¡°It is in fact a contest, Lis,¡± I said with a teasing grin. ¡°That¡¯s what it¡¯s called.¡±


    ¡°You know what I mean!¡±


    ¡°Where¡¯s Ambertown anyway?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a small town near Fallarbor and has maybe six thousand people,¡± Chaz informed me. ¡°They¡¯re famous for making little trinkets out of the amber found in the nearby forests, hence the name.¡±


    ¡°Huh, that¡¯s really neat.¡± It still took me aback sometimes to find that there were more towns than in the games.


    Hoenn was an ancient region in which multiple kingdoms and city states rose and fell. There were plenty of places off the beaten path outlined by the gym circuit where humans lived. Few were true cities, but small towns like Ambertown weren¡¯t unheard of.


    Hell, the Mossdeep Archipelago had more settlements than just Mossdeep City. The largest island, annoyingly called Mossdeep Island, was over four hundred square miles, with the city proper taking up about seventy square miles. There were several coastal villages, farms, and fisheries dotted throughout the island that answered to Mossdeep¡¯s provincial government and the gym.


    X


    Rustboro Contest Hall was utterly unremarkable. Slateport¡¯s had been beautiful and vast, as much a masterwork of modern art as the Grand Festival it hosted. Verdanturf¡¯s had blended its architecture with its people¡¯s love of nature. Even Oldale¡¯s had its share of personality, a barn and cattle auction hall that doubled as a gathering place for the farming community.


    Comparatively, Rustboro¡¯s was stark. The building was certainly large, and made of the sandstone the people here favored, but it was completely void of decorations. Without the sign outside, we might have passed it by as just another apartment complex or office building.


    Then again, maybe that was Rustboro¡¯s personality: stark, minimalist, and no-frills.


    ¡°There are so many people here,¡± Lisia squealed happily.


    ¡°Gee, imagine that, people, in the city,¡± I drawled.


    She responded by pulling down her eyelid and blowing me a raspberry. ¡°Blegh! You¡¯re such a sourpuss, Aaron. Tell him, Chaz.¡±


    Chaz groaned something unintelligible as he stumbled along next to us. It was nine in the morning and the contest began in half an hour, which meant the blonde was up two hours earlier than he usually was.


    ¡°Whoever organized this to start at nine-thirty needs to be fed to a salamence,¡± he groused.


    ¡°Nine-thirty is a perfectly normal time to be up,¡± I opined with a shit-eating smirk. I could pretend to be sympathetic, but we¡¯d all know I¡¯d be lying. ¡°I¡¯ve been up since five-thirty, Chaz.¡±


    ¡°Because you¡¯re a sword-idiot.¡±


    ¡°What time did you sleep?¡± Lisia asked.


    ¡°Two? Three at the latest.¡±


    ¡°How? Why? What were you doing up that late?¡±


    His face flushed at that. ¡°It¡¯s not important.¡±


    I snorted. He reminded me of some of my friends from college who kept similarly twisted sleep schedules. They at least used that time to study or write papers, for the most part. What he was doing, I didn¡¯t want to guess.


    We walked past the main lobby and into the coordinators¡¯ wing, an area set aside for us to make last minute preparations. We were each handed programs which contained the names of every coordinator participating. There would be forty-eight of us in the normal-rank, far larger than any other contest I¡¯d been in so far.


    It wasn¡¯t just the numbers. There was a far more eclectic variety of pokemon as well. I saw a beautifly perched atop a woman¡¯s head, not unlike how Ali liked to pretend he was Lisia¡¯s scarf. I also saw marill, vulpix, skitty, pikachu, and even a bellossom.


    There was definitely a bias towards marill and skitty, four and five of each respectively in our group of forty-eight. They were pokemon native to the city¡¯s outskirts, common, easy to raise, and generically ¡°cute¡± contest pokemon.


    ¡°How unoriginal,¡± Chaz muttered as he eyed a marill who was seated on its own tail-bulb.


    ¡°Cliches are cliches because they work,¡± I pointed out. I¡¯d considered an azumarill for my team as well, albeit not for contests. ¡°Those things are adorable.¡±


    ¡°And they shall appear all the more uncreative because they rely on those cliches. The essence of a coordinator is innovation.¡±


    ¡°True. But it¡¯s not as though you can¡¯t stand out with an exceptional marill or skitty. Like you said, the trainer¡¯s creativity will define the performance.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll see if they have what it takes then,¡± he said, clearly with expectations to the contrary.


    We watched the first few rounds go by. Even capped at five minutes per appeal, with forty-eight contestants, the appeals round would have taken upwards of four hours. Seeing the sheer impracticality of it, the appeals round had been divided into two divisions performing at the same time. Two coordinators would move on from each division to create the brackets for the battle round after a lunch intermission.


    When Lisia¡¯s number got called to stage A, we both completely forgot about the vulpix on Stage B. Whatever that vulpix was doing, it practically didn¡¯t matter. Chaz¡¯s silly crush aside, we knew without question that Lisia Mikuri was the gal to beat.


    X


    Lisia Mikuri


    I took a deep breath. My heart pounded in my chest. The thrill of the show raised goosebumps down my arms. I felt positively wired, like I had one of those energy shakes meant for electric pokemon. This was it. I was here again. Here, backstage, ready to dance my heart out, to show the world that there was more than one way to raise pokemon.


    It was so exciting! The stage! The lights! The people! I never felt more alive than the moments before a show. Sure, it was just five minutes in a normal-rank contest now, but one day, Ali and I would dance for the world.


    Was this how Uncle Wall felt when he took center stage at the Grand Festival? Was this how Aaron felt about his kendo? Would Chaz feel this way when it was his turn?


    I giggled thinking about my friends. They were more alike than different, even if they''d never admit it. Maybe that was why they got on like a pair of wet meowth. I''d never seen anyone my age as self-assured as those two.


    Well, except for me maybe.


    The emcee called my name and I dashed onto the stage with a cheerful bounce in my step. The music I''d chosen, an energetic pop song I''d listened to a million times before, blared around me.


    There was electricity in my veins. I couldn''t slow down even if I tried. There was no time to waste. We¡¯d be cutting it close even if things went perfectly.


    Risky? Probably.


    Thrilling? Definitely.


    My faith in Ali? Unconditional.


    ¡°Hello~ Rustboro!¡± I shouted at the top of my lungs. I didn¡¯t care that there were less than two hundred people watching. As big as the city was, most people weren¡¯t interested in normal-rank contests. ¡°Come! Soar with us!¡±


    With that, I hurled Ali¡¯s pokeball as high as I could. His pokeball opened, releasing my dearest friend into the air. My other friends weren''t quite ready with their routines, but they would be soon. I couldn''t wait to bring them on, maybe even a doubles routine someday. That would come in time, an option once I reached the super-rank. But for now, this was Ali''s time to shine.


    Ali was magnificent. I couldn''t have asked for a better partner. He emerged with a song on his beak and a trail of mist behind his wings.


    A thick fog began to cover us, courtesy of Ali''s Mist. Ice type energy didn''t come naturally to swablu, but that just meant we could highlight Ali''s hard work all the more.


    I began to twirl and dance to the music. Above me, Ali mirrored my movements in an elegant spiral, exuding more and more Mist all the while. Soon, we had a towering cloud around us, as big as the stage would allow. The spectators could see only an outline of me marked by the stage lights, but that was okay; I wasn''t the star here.


    We''d watched ourselves for countless hours, picking apart our recordings so we could improve. Every tilt of the head, every gesture of fingers and wings, it was all calculated, perfected in the same way Aaron perfected his sword swings or Chaz perfected his hair-flippy thing.


    Then, as we danced, Ali''s wings began to brush and comb the cloud. He incorporated Gust and Fairy Wind into the choreography, shaping the cloud and leaving glittering pink accents in strategic locations. I thought about doing the same with little hand fans, but I could never match his finesse.


    The song hit its bridge. It was time. I broke our synchronized routine and ran out of the cloud cover. My skin was shining with sweat and precipitation but I didn''t care. This was it, the climax I so desperately wanted to share with the world.


    ¡°Ali! Bring it home!¡± I shouted, my hand pumped to the sky. I wore a dazzling smile on my face as bolts of joyous anticipation shocked through me. I prayed that the crowd could feel even a bit of this energy.


    He answered with an elegant trill. As the song hit its final repetition of the chorus, Ali swept into the air, brushing his wings against the ceiling.


    There was a hole there, the tunneling path that Ali flew through. Our cloud sculpture looked like nothing now, just a spiral with some lopsided protrusions, but it was like a balloon, meant to be inflated. My partner took a deep breath and breathed out azure dragon fire, directly into the hole that some might have called an oversight.


    The result was immediate. Ice type energy in the cloud warred splendidly with Ali''s draconic breath. The resulting steam inflated the cloud, revealing what we made to the world.


    An altaria, wings spread in cloudy majesty, loomed over the audience as the last notes of the song faded. The neck, originally the spiral tunnel, glimmered blue with dragon fire. The wings, clouds flattened out by Gust, spanned the stage.


    Certain sections of the sculpture had been intentionally seeded with Fairy Wind, leaving gorgeous, pink accents that gave the illusion of motion as the glitters of power wafted in the wind. But that wasn''t all that Fairy Wind did.


    When we first started out, it was almost impossible to make the sculpture hold its shape. Draconic aura didn''t want to stay still. It warred with everything. The only way for the statue to truly hold its shape was to patch some of it with fairy aura, disrupting the draconic and supplementing the ice.


    This statue was a testament to what we could make, and a promise of what we would one day become. It was a study in contrasts warring auras balanced into something splendid, artistic flair framed by technical skill.


    This was our magnum opus, for now.


    Author¡¯s Note


    Spoon hasn¡¯t been winning lately, but I kinda feel bad for not updating this so have a long-ish chapter.


    Chaz only has a machop in ORAS, but there is an entirely different Chaz in the anime who has a venomoth. I decided to mush the two together because why the fuck not? It¡¯s not like either character is fleshed out at all.


    Ochazuke is green tea over rice. It¡¯s very soothing; you guys should make it sometime.


    That comment about Mossdeep¡¯s size is made with Hawai¡¯i as reference. Hawai¡¯i, the Big Island, is over 4,000 square miles. Mossdeep Island, at 400, would still be smaller than the main four Hawaiian islands.


    Hopefully I made Lisia and Ali''s debut performance on this fic suitably impressive. Just like how Aaron hits way above his weight class in badges, Lisia is a prodigy who doesn''t belong at the normal-rank.


    Food Fact: If you have allergies to pollen, you may have heard that eating locally sourced honey can help alleviate the symptoms. The idea is that honey is made from pollen and eating it can help your body become desensitized to it.


    Unfortunately, though plenty of people say that, this has no scientific basis. The honey collected by bees is not at all guaranteed to be sourced from the same flowers that cause seasonal allergies. Seasonal allergies are caused by windblown pollen, the kind that don¡¯t require bees to pollinate.


    Thank you for reading. To reach a wider audience, and because I enjoy a more forum-like setup to facilitate discussion, I like to crosspost to a wide variety of websites. You can find them all on my Link Tree: https://linktr.ee/fabled.webs</a>.

 4.17 Fish

    Aaron¡¯s Pokemon


    - Artoria (Kirlia)


    - Jeanne (Flaaffy)


    - Durvasa (Mankey)


    - Scotch (Egg)


    - Magellan (Chikorita)


    Fish 4.17


    Aaron Fulan


    Rustboro City


    Unbelievable.


    Un-fucking-believable.


    Lisia was an utterly unreasonable human being. Her sheer energy, that stage presence, it was all so far beyond what I would have expected of a rookie coordinator that I didn''t even know where to start. Everything about her performance, from her outfit to the song she chose meshed flawlessly to shine a spotlight on her swablu.


    I could only imagine this was how in-game NPCs felt when the player character stomped through their gyms with a single bidoof.


    Fairy aura wasn''t easy to work with; that much, I knew from personal experience. I would assume draconic aura was equally temperamental. Could I do what she did? Could I blend the two masterfully into a single construct? Could I add a third type as she had?


    The answer was a resounding ¡°fuck no.¡±


    I wondered if this was the difference between a swordsman and an artist. Where I favored discipline, repetition, and structure in my training, she favored vision and spontaneity, allowing herself to be led by whimsy until a bolt of inspiration struck her. Maybe her mentality allowed her to resonate with the fairy type. Maybe her training under Wallace was far more effective than anyone had expected.


    Or maybe she was just that much of a prodigy.


    Whatever it was, I had a new measuring stick when it came to contests. Until now, Solidad and her slowbro had been the bar I compared myself to. She was skilled. She was a veteran who¡¯d traveled through multiple regions already. She had an evolved pokemon who boasted both power and finesse.


    And Lisia''s performance completely blew hers out of the water. In both aesthetics and technical skill, there was no comparison.


    The judges gave her a twenty-nine out of thirty. It was higher than any other score I¡¯d seen, in this and every contest prior, but they¡¯d found something to nitpick anyway. That was their job, I supposed.


    Ali¡¯s Dragon Breath, though impressive for a young swablu, had lacked true mastery. His breath was short and left him obviously exhausted. Not to mention, the move had taken a second too long to charge, something that became obvious because the move didn¡¯t line up with the final beats of the song.


    ¡°Is it just me or are they looking for anything to strike points for?¡± I muttered.


    ¡°Obviously. Lisia¡¯s performance was flawless,¡± Chaz said. He shone with admiration and envy in equal measure.


    ¡°Not flawless maybe, but definitely excusable for a normal-rank contest.¡±


    ¡°Agreed. Maybe that¡¯s what they¡¯re trying to imply: No one is perfect. We all have ways we can better ourselves.¡±


    ¡°Maybe. Norman offered Artoria and I a stronger pokemon than the second badge required as well. If she¡¯s being graded with higher expectations, I guess some traditions are universal.¡±


    ¡°Of course, everything comes back to battling with you, brute,¡± he said, though there was no heat to it.


    ¡°Blonde ponce,¡± I shot back, more for the sake of it than because I was actually offended.


    He was right, after all. I was indeed a sword-idiot.


    I looked around at the other coordinators and snickered. Everyone here fell into one of two camps: One type of person, the majority of people here, felt disheartened by Lisia¡¯s performance. She was guaranteed to advance to the battle round, and with a significant lead in points. Just seeing her mastery had been enough to cow them and already, some were muttering about how there was always next month.


    The other type of person was thrilled, eager to test themselves against the Grand Coordinator¡¯s niece. It wasn¡¯t over yet. There were three other slots. Maybe she wasn¡¯t as good at contest battling as she was at appeals. Maybe the experience alone would be worthwhile. Or, if they had a pokemon with an advantage against a swablu, they could bring it out.


    I immediately wrote off everyone in the first camp. They weren¡¯t competition anymore, not after Lisia so thoroughly shattered their spirits. The hilarious part of it all was that Lisia didn¡¯t think this way at all. She was only focused on putting on the best show she could.


    Soon, it was time for Chaz to go on stage. His routine was clean, polished in a way that most others weren¡¯t. I was wondering how he planned to compete in a contest with a machop of all pokemon. They weren¡¯t known for large natural movepools. The answer was simple: TMs.


    Macherie the machop was loaded up on TMs. She used a combination of Bulldoze and Rock Tomb to alter the stage around her trainer, raising up a platform that resembled a craggy cliff. She then built walls around him with Rock Tomb and Light Screen, using the pillars of stone to anchor the psychic projections temporarily. When she was finished, Chaz sat atop a throne of polished stone, the relief of a castle of light molded around him.


    It wasn¡¯t a fully detailed castle of course, more of a rough design. A machop simply lacked the psychic finesse to create such a thing. For that matter, even Artoria wouldn¡¯t be able to manage it, though perhaps a throne or crown of light might be more feasible. He made up for that with the crags made by Rock Tomb, creating the impression of a scenic, mountain vista.


    In a vacuum, the performance was great. It showed off the machop¡¯s skill with atypical moves, looked suitably grandiose, and wasn¡¯t something most people would have seen before. However, the construct Macherie made got compared to Ali¡¯s and didn¡¯t score as highly as Chaz likely hoped. Still, with twenty-four points, he was comfortably second place.


    Then it was my turn.


    X


    I paid the emcee no mind as she announced my entrance. Having done this twice before, the butterflies didn¡¯t bother me much though they fluttered in my stomach still.


    My entrance was lacking in energy compared to Lisia¡¯s, but not in focused intent. I strolled past the trainer box, where most typically chose to stand, and right up to the audience, as close as I could stand without falling off the stage. Neither Chaz nor Lisia remained in that box and nor would I. I bowed politely at the waist, one hand over my heart.


    Wearing a suit with my sword at my hip and Lisia¡¯s bandana accented over my neck, I must have struck an unusual sight. Chaz had teased me for bringing my sword along, saying I treated it like a security blanket.


    He wasn¡¯t wrong; ever since I began training Artoria, I felt naked without one, whether a bokken or dull steel didn¡¯t matter. Perhaps Artoria¡¯s mentality was bleeding through, just as I was influencing her.


    I knew I looked strange, but that was fine. It was better to be a little unusual rather than completely forgettable.


    I turned my back to the crowd and released Jeanne so she stood center stage. I couldn¡¯t see the audience, but that was what I wanted. I was a conductor now, and to a conductor, the orchestra was the only audience that mattered.


    I held out my right arm for silence. Then, as I brought it down, Jeanne stamped her foot, causing a circle of electricity to expand around her. With Electric Terrain set, the stage lights seemed to fade away before the brightness of Jeanne¡¯s technique. I snapped my finger and Jeanne conjured two orbs in her hand, Electro Ball and a charged Cotton Spore. Electricity arced between the two, sometimes jumping between her horns, creating sharp, crackling sounds.


    Then, with her makeshift thoramin in hand, she began to play. Mary Had a Little Lamb echoed throughout the chamber. The notes weren¡¯t pure like from a piano, but her instrument of choice had an allure all its own; it even came with its own light show.


    I had a shit-eating grin on my face as Jeanne played her little heart out. I could tell the exact moment people realized what we were doing. Giggles, snorts of laughter, and murmurs of disbelief sounded behind me. That was the joke: I was dressed in a suit, like a proper conductor, but here was a lamb, playing a nursery rhyme about another lamb, and doing it in the most unorthodox way possible. The best jokes were ones that managed expectations after all.


    When the first round ended, I raised my left hand. I brought it down in a chop, causing Jeanne to do the same with her tail.


    There was a bright shower of sparks and a dull, staticky thump as her tail-bulb met the Electric Terrain. It sounded a little like the thumping of a mic that some people did to grab attention. I brought my hand up and down in a simple but appealing pattern, adding steady percussion to this round.


    The brevity of the song played to our advantage here. Neither Jeanne nor I were great musicians and we didn¡¯t have the years of practice to make up for our lack of genius talent. As novel as this must have been to the judges, they would have grown tired of the performance had we picked a longer song. It was best not to overstay our welcome.


    At the close of the song, Jeanne, who¡¯d been swaying and tossing her ¡°instruments¡± up and down, seemingly tripped over her own feet. With a bleat of faux surprise, she hurled the Electro Ball at me, and in turn the audience. Gasps of shock and worry filled the room as the orb of condensed lightning careened towards my head.


    Then, before it could impact against the psychic barriers, I took a half-step forward and cut it out of the air with a perfect iaido draw. The orb of electricity sent an unpleasant tingle up my arm that I ignored with practiced ease. Twin showers of golden sparks flew around me, briefly framing my form.


    Turning, I sheathed my sword calmly and bowed to the audience as Jeanne¡¯s ¡°trip¡± became a controlled roll forward. She joined me in the second bow as the last notes of the children¡¯s song faded with the sparks of her ¡°attack.¡±


    ¡°That was certainly the most¡­ unorthodox¡­ performance we¡¯ve had today,¡± began one judge. She was a senior gym trainer from Rustboro, here to represent the League. The others were a contest veteran who often competed at the ultra-rank and the president of the local chapter of the pokemon fanclub. ¡°I¡¯ve never heard of anyone playing music like that before. Care to tell us about it, Mr. Fulan?¡±


    I was being asked to elaborate on my performance. I took that as a good sign. Some coordinators were, but most were only offered token recognition. ¡°Of course. The idea comes from something called a thoramin, an instrument made by using tesla coils to generate electricity, and then converting specific frequencies to sound. I discovered that Jeanne could do something similar and we¡¯ve been practicing since.¡±


    ¡°Why a children¡¯s song of all things? Surely, there are better options out there for a live performance,¡± the fanclub president said.


    ¡°There are, but truthfully? Jeanne is a pokemon who loves being whimsical. Her childlike wonder and delight are some of her best qualities. I didn¡¯t feel that the ambiance of a formal orchestra suited us. Instead, we¡¯re much better suited for something a little more fun, a little more¡­ dynamic.¡±


    ¡°Well, you¡¯ve certainly done that, young man. I was wondering what you were going to do with a sword. I¡¯m still not sure it fits well with your overall theme.¡±


    The final judge, a veteran coordinator, looked like he wasn¡¯t sure if he should scold me or praise me. ¡°It came out of left field. Sure, you had the sword on you the whole time, but I don¡¯t think anyone expected that. That¡¯s both a good and bad thing.


    ¡°On one hand, it was a great way to¨Cheh¨Ccut the performance short. Otherwise, I don¡¯t think we would have enjoyed sitting through five minutes of you repeating the same tune. It was eye-catching and showed off the trust you have in your pokemon and the incredible control your flaaffy possesses to not hurt you accidentally.


    ¡°On the other hand, it had nothing to do with the rest of your performance. I would also highly advise against anything that even appears to endanger your own audience. Yes, the barriers are active, but such performances tend to have some extremely mixed responses.¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir, thank you for your advice.¡±


    ¡°All told, that¡¯s an eight from me. Novel, creative, and with a lot of potential for more.¡±


    ¡°Agreed,¡± the gym trainer said. ¡°I appreciate how technical the show was. Electricity is extremely dangerous to humans and your confidence suggests the kind of training and dedication we encourage here in Rustboro. Eight as well.¡±


    Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.


    The fanclub president shook his head and held out a seven. ¡°I don¡¯t know, you two. I agree with everything you both said, but it does lack a bit of the pizazz of some of the other performances we¡¯ve seen. I¡¯m taking a point off for the thematic mismatch anyway.¡±


    I bowed my head in acknowledgement. He was, unfortunately, not wrong. I needed a showstopper to cut the performance before my five minutes were up, but I wasn¡¯t good enough to cut electric attacks out of the air for a full, choreographed performance. Let them think it was done to highlight Jeanne¡¯s control.


    X


    ¡°Aaron! Jeanne! That was awesome!¡± Lisia squealed as she gave me a quick hug. She then knelt and buried her face in Jeanne¡¯s neck. She held up a hand towards me expectantly.


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Gimme.¡±


    ¡°Give you what, Lisia? We use words here.¡±


    ¡°Comb. Treats. Everything I need to pamper this cutie, duh.¡±


    I rolled my eyes. She¡¯d really taken a liking to Jeanne over the past few days. And Artoria too, but my starter wasn¡¯t nearly so accommodating when it came to cuddles. I supposed Jeanne did deserve her moment.


    I gave her Jeanne¡¯s grooming kit and took a seat next to her to await the results. Lisia came in first of course. Then Chaz with twenty-four points, putting me and some woman named Janet at third with twenty-three points apiece. I would be battling Chaz in the semi-finals and Lisia in the finals.


    That was fine by me; Chaz needed a bit of humbling and battles were my domain. Really, who built a castle and placed himself on the throne?


    ¡°I won,¡± Chaz said with a smug grin.


    ¡°Did you? Because I¡¯m pretty sure Lisia kicked both our asses,¡± I replied with an arched brow.


    ¡°Between you and me, I won.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not a contes-competition,¡± Lisia corrected herself and sighed. On top of her head, Ali mirrored his mistress.


    ¡°Maybe not when you¡¯re so far above everyone else. We must all look like amateurs to you.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think of myself that way, Chaz. And we are amateurs, all of us. None of us do this professionally yet.¡±


    ¡°Right. It¡¯s all about making people smile with you,¡± I said. ¡°You do have a big advantage in the battle round though, what with having more points to lose.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s true. But it¡¯s still not a competition.¡±


    ¡°Of course not, Lisia.¡±


    ¡°If it were,¡± she said slyly, ¡°I¡¯d win so you boys can stop bickering.¡±


    ¡°Oh? Those are fightin¡¯ words.¡±


    ¡°I won¡¯t go easy on you, even if you¡¯re my f-friend,¡± Chaz added. The boy couldn¡¯t get more obvious if he bought her roses and a ring.


    Lisia rolled her eyes and pulled Jeanne closer. ¡°Boys, right, Jeanne?¡±


    Jeanne, through her blissed out haze, bleated out affirmation for the giver of cuddles. ¡°Flaaf.¡±


    ¡°Hey now, I¡¯m your trainer. You¡¯re supposed to be on my side,¡± I complained, jabbing a finger into Jeanne¡¯s fluffy side.


    ¡°Flaaf. Flaaffy-flaaf. Flaa¡­¡±


    Lisia giggled and dug around in her bag before pulling out a pokeblock. Pecha, it looked like. ¡°Here, Jeanne. A treat for being more sensible than your trainer.¡±


    ¡°Flaaffy!¡±


    I could have stopped it. Then again, I did promise Lisia a first-hand account of the intricacies of ovine biology all those weeks ago. So, I leaned back and let Jeanne¡¯s enthusiasm take hold.


    My little lamb hopped onto Lisia¡¯s lap and hugged the pop idol with a cheerful bleat. She leaned forward, and with a devious grin, licked her from chin to forehead. I doubted Lisia¡¯s foundation tasted very good, but that was a secondary concern for Jeanne.


    The first, of course, was getting a reaction from her new cuddles-dispenser.


    ¡°Eewww!¡± Lisia squealed, getting more than a few amused glances our way. ¡°It¡¯s so slimy. Wait, what¡¯s-Is this grass???¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s called cud, Lis,¡± I replied dryly. ¡°Ovines and bovines, that¡¯s sheep and cows, have multi-chambered stomachs they use to break down fibrous plant matter. They chew something, barf it up, and chew it again over the course of the entire day. That half-digested plant matter is called cud.¡±


    ¡°What? That¡¯s so nasty¡­ You should have told me!¡±


    ¡°I did, weeks ago, over group chat. Tate and Liza can vouch for me.¡±


    ¡°You should have told me today! Before I let her lick me!¡±


    Jeanne ambled over to me with a smug, self-satisfied smirk. I picked up my little prankster and tucked her under my arm like a rugby ball. ¡°But then how else would we amuse ourselves?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re a jerk, Aaron,¡± she pouted.


    ¡°I am. I am also a man of my word. I did promise a first-hand lesson then.¡±


    ¡°I could do without any more, thanks,¡± she said, glaring lightly. She pulled out a handkerchief and wiped herself off. She caught Jeanne looking at the bag of pokeblocks, a stash only preserved by the attentive watch of Ali. Ali crooned affectionately as his mistress fed him. ¡°No, no way, missy. Only good pokemon get snacks.¡±


    ¡°Swa-blu,¡± Ali trilled. I didn¡¯t know what he said, but the tone was universal.


    Sparks erupted between Jeanne and Ali as their eyes met. Ember, and now Ali, my little lamb was sure busy gathering rivals for herself.


    X


    We reconvened after thirty minutes. The lunch intermission was just long enough for us to snack on a few wraps provided by the contest hall.


    I stood across from Chaz Rosemund. He was as confident as I¡¯d ever seen him. With his long, blonde hair swept back to one side and a perfectly tailored suit of royal blue, he looked like the ideal dashing prince. In front of him stood Macherie; he wasn¡¯t even trying to hide his pokemon of choice.


    Machop didn¡¯t have much in the way of ranged options. They could learn, but even their best efforts tended to be lackluster. I knew he had a venonat and a growlithe in addition to his starter. I¡¯d made no secret that Jeanne was the only pokemon on my team interested in contests; had he been a wiser man, he would have sent out a growlithe for mobility and better range.


    Then again, I had a feeling that this wasn¡¯t strictly about making the optimal choice in pokemon to face my flaaffy. I could see it in his eyes and in the fire of emotional aura that surrounded him. He considered me a rival, and so wanted to face me with his starter. It was sentimental, and maybe a little foolish, but I felt my respect for him rise just a little.


    Was this what was called a man¡¯s romance?


    ¡°Coordinators, are you ready?¡± the emcee asked. When we nodded our assent, she brought down her little flag, signaling the start of the match. ¡°Then let¡¯s go!¡±


    ¡°Macherie, show them your Light Screen!¡± Chaz shouted, hand outstretched dramatically.


    He likely expected an early salvo, a powerful ranged barrage to keep the melee-focused machop at bay. By using the Light Screen to absorb the attack and create a spectacle for the audience, he would have built himself an early point lead.


    Unfortunately for him, that wasn¡¯t how Jeanne did things. She did exactly as I¡¯d taught her: Charge. Whenever there was a moment to breathe, Charge. When you didn¡¯t know what the opponent would do next, Charge. At every idle moment, Charge.


    We battled to our own rhythm. So long as Macherie was way over there, Jeanne was happy to set the field. She did a little twirl and slammed her tail on the ground, setting up a small Electric Terrain the size of a pitcher¡¯s mound. Then, using it as a stage light and Charge as her props, she began an impromptu dance routine that made the crowd coo.


    For several seconds, Jeanne and Macherie almost had a dance-off rather than fight. Such was the nature of contest battles. Points could be gained and lost through the successful execution of elaborate moves, or by countering your opponents, but the easiest way was simply to look good doing whatever you were doing.


    It was something I hadn¡¯t really encountered personally until now. Solidad and her slowbro stomped me and Jeanne so hard that there was no chance to show off. And with Onale, making an aesthetic appeal fell to the wayside in favor of stoking that torchic¡¯s fighting spirit.


    Chaz quickly figured out that I was waiting for Light Screen to wear off and had Macherie bombard Jeanne with Rock Slide. Body still glistening with the protective veil, she dug her hands into the battlefield and pulled out bowling ball-sized projectiles before hurling them at Jeanne.


    ¡°Agility,¡± I called. ¡°Fancy feet.¡±


    Jeanne bleated and began to dance more fervently. She was used to training against Durvasa and Artoria. Compared to dodging homing energy stars or a teleporting, spoon-wielding sword-nut who also liked to abuse Double Team, a Rock Slide wasn¡¯t difficult. Perhaps if the move came from a machop with more combat training, she might have had a harder time.


    Jeanne posed atop her little Electric Terrain after every dodge like a character out of a magical girl anime. For a contest battle, it wasn¡¯t enough to simply evade; she needed to make it look effortless.


    She couldn¡¯t keep this up forever. As well-trained as Jeanne was, her stamina was far from her best trait. Macherie was taking a step or two after each boulder, slowly closing the distance. That was fine; the machop would run out of steam before Jeanne.


    Then, halfway to Jeanne, it happened. The blue veil of Light Screen flickered out. It had been used to outline Macherie¡¯s muscles, but there was no way she could keep up a psychic move for so long, not while trying to close the distance and maintain a ranged bombardment.


    ¡°Screen¡¯s down!¡± I shouted, more to let the judges know that this was intentional rather than because Jeanne needed the obvious explained to her. I held my hand dramatically into the air. ¡°Cover the sky! Lightning arrows!¡±


    Jeanne did a little sideways flip, twisting in the air. Her tail whipped out and all the electricity she¡¯d been charging was released into the air. She loosed a dozen bolts of Shock Wave into the air with each swish of her tail.


    It was laughably impractical. I could have ended the battle with a single, overpowered Electro Ball. Instead, here we were, wasting all the charge we¡¯d built up to simulate an arrow rain. If the judges asked, it was an ¡°undodgeable attack that¡¯s both pretty and guaranteed to score points.¡±


    I¡¯d have to tell Jeanne why we never do this in a real battle later.


    Either way, Macherie wasn¡¯t experienced enough. Now, all that distance she¡¯d covered with her Rock Slide backfired as she had even less space to dodge. I thought this would be it. She¡¯d be hurt and paralyzed and easy pickings for Jeanne.


    Then Chaz¡¯s shout cut through the air. ¡°Macherie! Show them your Focus Blast! Straight up!¡±


    Macherie held her hands in front of her, slightly apart. She looked like she was about to charge a Kamehameha. Or maybe Vegeta¡¯s Final Flash.


    With a determined shout, she thrust the ball of condensed aura into the air. It collided with the golden arcs of electricity headed for her, creating an explosion of color and wind that ruffled the clothes of those in the front row. As the rain of electricity cascaded around her, she posed, hands behind her head to show off her rippling muscles.


    Jeanne looked back at me with a question in her eyes. I shook my head. I¡¯d read up more on contest battles. They were battles, true, but they were also performances, more akin to movie fight choreographies in some ways. Normally, now would have been the perfect time to beat that machop silly, but it wasn¡¯t a bad thing to let her have a few seconds.


    Then that time passed. I shouted so Chaz could hear. ¡°Electro Ball! Pitch it!¡±


    ¡°Macherie, defend with Rock Tomb!¡±


    Jeanne used the Electric Terrain as a pitcher¡¯s mound. She took several seconds to wind up an exaggerated baseball pitch. Even as telegraphed as our attack was, Chaz¡¯s machop barely managed to get the wall of stone up in time.


    I wondered just how many TMs he¡¯d given that machop of his. So far, I¡¯d seen Rock Slide, Light Screen, Focus Blast, and now Rock Tomb. They were all solid moves, and her versatility was impressive, but that poor machop lacked the experience to have truly mastered any of them.


    ¡°Curve ball,¡± I spoke calmly. I glanced at the scoreboard. It was about time. I¡¯d allowed Chaz to have his back and forth. Macherie got to show off a bit. Now, it was time to dominate.


    Jeanne¡¯s next pitch came hard and fast. Worse, it came with the same tracking feature found in Shock Wave. It curved in the air like it had a mind of its own, circling cleanly around the wall of rock to nail her opponent in the face.


    ¡°Macherie!¡± Chaz shouted as she was sent sprawling.


    ¡°End the terrain. Agility. Close in.¡±


    This wasn¡¯t necessary. The optimal choice would be to keep up the ranged assault and never let that machop so much as stand up again. Most would say a flaaffy willingly getting close with a machop was stupid. And yet, I found myself feeling confident in Jeanne¡¯s ability to out-duel a machop in close quarters.


    Maybe not every machop, but this one? Without question.


    It was a real pity, too. Macherie clearly had a lot of know-how when it came to moves. She had to have put in the work to make these moves combat-viable, even if they did come from a TM originally. She was more than a simple brute but her potential had been stifled by Chaz¡¯s methods.


    I didn¡¯t know if this was because Chaz himself had no idea how to teach martial arts or because he was so fixated on aesthetics, but I felt the machop could do better. Learning to fight for real might even help them with contests.


    Hopefully, this would be a learning experience for them both.


    Chaz must have seen a glimmer of hope. He had Macherie rush to meet Jeanne with Revenge. It was a powerful move, one that could do some serious damage if it landed.


    Macherie wasn¡¯t bad at fighting up close. No machop could be called that. But she wasn¡¯t the practiced martial artist that was so common amongst her kind. She was the equivalent of a movie stuntman who excelled at those flashy roundhouse kicks but had never been in the ring.


    Compared to her usual sparring partners, Macherie was so painfully slow.


    ¡°Use your tail. Spin out,¡± I called as the machop¡¯s glowing haymaker closed in.


    It was a running joke that Jeanne would learn the Rasengan one day. I doubted I¡¯d ever call it that, and the sheer concentration of type energy needed to have that boring effect wasn¡¯t there, but she¡¯d gotten quite good at spinning her Electro Ball.


    Now, Jeanne used it to maneuver. She conjured an Electro Ball around her tail-bulb and brought it down against the ground. The rotation of the ball picked Jeanne off her feet, carrying her out of the way of Macherie¡¯s haymaker and skidding behind the machop.


    And then it was over. One last Electro Ball to the back of the head was enough to knock her opponent out cold.


    Author''s Note


    Long chapter? Long chapter.


    Aaron''s still figuring out the presentation thing. At the moment, he has a novel idea that works as a proof of concept, not a full performance, and it shows.


    For whatever reason, machop learns Light Screen via TM, but not Reflect.


    When you see a human block a pokemon attack, your natural conclusion is not ¡°that human is a magic samurai.¡± It¡¯s ¡°that pokemon is very well-trained.¡± People don¡¯t attribute the feat to Aaron, but to Jeanne instead.


    The contest battle was fun to write. There were a lot of instances when Jeanne could have simply overwhelmed Macherie but didn¡¯t for the sake of putting on a performance. Hopefully, the differences between a contest battle and a gym battle were more apparent here; I know I haven¡¯t been doing that much in the previous examples.


    Animal Fact: There is no such thing as a female peacock. A ¡°peacock¡± refers to the male member of the peafowl species and only males have those large, fan-like tail feathers. Therefore, a female peafowl is actually called a ¡°peahen.¡±


    Thank you for reading. To reach a wider audience, and because I enjoy a more forum-like setup to facilitate discussion, I like to crosspost to a wide variety of websites. You can find them all on my Link Tree: https://linktr.ee/fabled.webs</a>.