Pokémon Little Leavanny in the Big City [BW Prequel AU/Reincarnation]

[zoru22]

Re: Reviews/Review Blitzes- I appreciate all reviews and comments!

If you read the story/liked it, likes here or kudos on AO3 are enough to feed the machine, thank you!

Thank you!

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The story is going through an extended editing pass that is looking to take a couple months. These posts are the result of the first round of edits, before any major structural changes happen.

There is a version of the fic on AO3. This thread will be updated as chapter-edits solidify or complete, whereas edits on AO3 will happen silently.


I don't have a posting schedule.


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Sometimes, life's walls feel like they're angled at 87 degrees.

An awkward story about hope, progress, and learning.

This is an AU/Reincarnation into a Leavanny, based in Unova. It is a prequel to pokemon white/black 1 with a bunch of custom worldbuilding mixed in.

The story is character-driven first, narrative driven second. It's neither competence porn nor a "realistic" take on pokemon, though it is heavily inspired by xenofic and detailed, custom biology.

Rating: T to M

Spoiler: ~Content Warnings~

The tone of the story is (intended to feel) on the lighter side of grounded, not grim or dark, though grim and bad things still happen.

Mental Health Problems - panic attacks, anxiety, depression, and more are shown, albeit largely through the lens of a human-turned pokemon.

Bleeding and gore may occasionally be described, and some characters, humans or pokemon, may die.

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~~~ Little Leavanny In The Big City ~~~

~~ Chapter 1 - Vibrations ~~​

One of the strange things about dying and waking up as a pokemon, is that you know, in these stories you’re supposed to be something cool, or connected to the storylines of the games or anime, right? Well, I died as a human and woke up as a pokemon about a month ago. I had expected a call to adventure. You know, cracks in the sky. Rayquaza’s hyper-beam arcing through. Nest burning down from Team Rocket lighting the forest on fire in search of slowpoke to poach.

Nope, none of that. None came. I had just died as a human on regular-old-no-pokemon earth, and woke up as a leaf-type pokemon in the middle of a peaceful forest. For the most part, I’ve been able to live without much hassle. I’ve learned a couple of abilities, though the biggest so far has been string shot and crafting with the silk that comes from my mouth.

There was that one night, I was running and slid under a rock. Stumbled on a bunch of venipede. Not gonna run under rocks any more. News flash: If something looks like a good hiding spot, something else is probably in there, and they’re not gonna be too happy sharing their hiding spot with you.

Anyway, I never got the damned call to adventure. No Ash Ketchum trying to catch me, no Team Aqua trying to flood my region, nothing! And, well, I couldn’t accept that a random chance of fate would slam me from boring old reality into the body of a Pokemon and then be happy with me living a banal, normal pokemon life out in the wild.

Not only is that boring, it’s just… It’s just too dark to think about. Especially when I can’t even poke-speak! I tried talking to the animals; you know, doing the whole poke-speak thing, from the anime? Yeah, no. Doesn’t exactly work. At least not for me.

Tried to talk to a pidgey once, but it just attacked me! A single gust almost sent me toppling to my doom, but a couple well-flung leaves from my forearms convinced the stupid bird that I’m not worth the effort. Right. My other 'ability'. When I was a human, I was pretty good at flicking cards across the room. The arm structure on this body means I’m pretty damn good at flinging things from them. I know, I know, Razor Leaf is one of the basic bitch ranged attacks, but damn does it feel good to embed leaves deep into tree bark.

Oh right. Uh, about that. I wasn't actually sure what pokemon I was right then. The last games I’d played was my older brother’s HeartGold and my friend’s Black 2…that I never finished or returned. I’d been getting better and better at remembering pokemon’s names every day, but at this point I was drawing blanks.

The pokemon that shared the nest with me—the ones who were there when I woke up. They had frowny faces, and I dressed them up in cloaks. Well, blankets, really, of leaves. I couldn't place what kind of pokemon those little nest-mates were, either. Memories from playing the games were getting clearer, but what ones used leaves for blankets, like these grump-faces?

In the games, pokemon could only learn four moves, but I’m pretty sure I can do at least six, though biting and bug biting feels like complete cheating. I figure four moves was just a game mechanic, rather than an actual limitation! I can’t even imagine a world where pokemon could only learn four moves.

So yeah, there I am: I know I’m at least grass-type, based on my leaf-arms and some instincts which help me attach leaves, grafting them onto my body. I’m probably also bug-type, based on the silk that my mouth produces when I sew and graft, but I haven’t found a good reflection yet. I had a guess, though my vision wasn't fragmented, like I'd expect if I had turned into a bug, so until I caught my own self in a mirror or window, I wouldn't really know for sure.

I’ve got leaves wrapped around me, and there’s the occasional compulsion to grab large, healthy, or strong-looking leaves off bushes and trees, grafting them onto my natural ones. It’s kind of like armor, but only kind of. It’s more like living armor…that I stole from other plants.

So there I was, this pokemon, covered in leaves, having ditched the bug-nest I woke up in, as far as I know about a month old, probably an evolved form, running out from underneath a rock, departing angry venipedes, their red markings shouting "death if you get close," seeking my route to civilization, leaving our quiet little forest behind.

That’s when I felt the rhythmic thumping coming from the ground, followed by a smooth high-pitched, vibrating whistle in the air on my antennae. Being sensitive to vibrations in the air is an interesting feeling. At this distance, the high-pitched whine is like a pair of electric hair clippers vibrating against your jaw.

Only for me, it was at the top of my head, jittering through. The sound was translated directly and the leaves on my arms and body— stiff though they were— vibrated as well. But it is coupled with the physical sensations as well. I looked up at the trees, rustling in the light breeze of the air, my vision wobbling like a nerve in my eye was misfiring, causing the scene to jitter and blur even more than my vision already did.

I had chosen my journey already. Sensory issues would not get in my way. No humans, no trainers, no cataclysmic rumblings of a once-long-sleeping legendary threatening the region, no. Just, the vibration from the whistle of a train in the distance. That was it. A train was my call. On the forest floor here, there wasn’t really anything that could tell me no. Well, other than meeting up with a predator, I guess.

None showed up to stop me. After cutting off a couple leaves, I used the silk that came from my mouth to sew them onto my arm-blades. Checking the leaves that made up little pockets on my legs, I had stored there a couple of hardened leaves for use as ammo in case of another bird attack. Wouldn't do much when meeting a strong bird-type like a full-grown pidgeot, but it worked for the small-timers.

I plucked some berries from a nearby bush, seeing a small patch of savory earth, I sprinkled some of the richer-smelling soil on top. Eating the quick snack, I turned and headed toward what felt like the direction of the train. From the location of the sun in the sky, it was to the southeast.

The vibrations eventually stopped, but as I walked through the trees, the tastesmells in the air were already shifting in flavor. Where the last was a mute lavender, this was a more earthy metallic taste in the air, that was sensed by both my tongue and the antennae. I was still pretty clearly in the forest, and had even noticed a couple of flashes of silver in the air, reflections of the sun as the metal crossed above. My instincts—they said, “Hey, watch out! Birds!” No accompanying rhythmic thumping I'd have expected from a small plane, I eyed them streaks as they flew across the sky.

Skarmory, probably. Anything that was too far away was a blur, though they were moving pretty leisurely. Circling for prey? I took a step closer to a row of trees, passing under their shadows, taking a more deliberate approach in the south-eastern direction, skipping under the cover of the foliage and trees. The flyers didn’t seem too interested in me, at least. Or they hadn't seen me.

Hopefully I just looked like a plant-type to them, or they just hadn’t noticed me… They ate metal and other bird-types, right? It was hard to imagine my constitution being very nutritious to them. Pretty sure I’m not even worth the energy to attack. The thought of facing off with one of them; it sets the deeper instincts on edge, regardless of what I imagined the steely birds' diets to be. Whatever bug-grass-type I was, my other half, my instincts, they did not consider us to be a predator, no siree.

One of the interesting things about being a grass-type is that I’m painfully-aware of the sun’s location in the sky. Call it instinct, call it whatever, a day spent under the sun is like walking and constantly having that feeling of “Oh, I’m going to do something big, I just know it,” having all the energy in the world...but then not being able to actually go through anything but the vaguest motions of what I wanted to do. The sun feels TOO GOOD not to sit under, and when you’re in the shade while the sun’s out? Gotta move to be under the sun again. That’s right. I get high from being in the sun and soaking up its rays.

The ground had grown hardened, and the grass and bushes gave way to a semi-consistent path. Not disappearing, but moving to the sides. It was hard soil. I was walking on a trail. An actual trail! By humans?!?

Well, maybe. Could just be a common path a lot of other pokemon like walking down. The path where the sun was strongest, it seemed like someone had long ago pushed the trees back. On either side of me though, were a bunch of flower-like pokemon, their petals wrapped tight as they slept.

They reminded me of sunflowers. The Pokemon world was really something. Sunflorae.

I pressed forward, hovering near the side of the trail in case I saw a human and needed to dive into some shrubs. There was a squish, a small spark crackled, my body convulsing. I staggered. I shift a half-step forward, stepping slightly further into the sticky webbing, the world slightly spun. I paused. Covered in leaf-clothing, I’m light enough to be carried by a pidgey’s gust. At that moment, I felt particularly light, and learned I was pretty far from anything that could compete in straight fights.

That was an electric shock.

I was standing on a web.

A web from a pokemon.

An electric web.

Uh.

Spiders existed in pokemon. And spiders eat bugs. And I’m a bug. In that second half-second, I paused my steps. What electric bug-types are there? Joltik, I thought. But joltik didn't lay webs? Then I saw it: giant spider, about half my height, looking at me from behind the sunflower pokemon. Watching me. Instead of pausing, my limbs, all of my motion stopped.

I froze.

Do they hunt in packs?

If so… Even if I had a decent field of view, I still couldn’t see directly behind myself. I didn’t see or feel the vibrations of any other movement. Nothing to the sides. The spider seemed content to stare me down. Eyeing me. Seeing if I would be a good spider-meal?

Just what I needed. To be paralyzed as a spider sucks my innards dry. Nope. That’s a nope nope nope. Hazarding a glance down, the link was pretty tenuous, if sticky, with small arcs of electricity zapping about between them. I hadn’t stepped into the main web, behind where the spider was standing.

It hadn't attacked me yet, which was a good sign. One shock of electricity and some bad luck, one hit of paralysis, and a meal of me was likely on their menu. Instincts said to run, to stomp, to turn and escape as fast as I could. No. I'd said, competing with the inner pokemon. Instead I held still, kneeling, moving my arms down, bending my legs, avoiding to get more of their webbing on my legs, keeping my eyes forward, on the stranger and potential predator.

Slowly, I extended one of the leaves on my arm, like a knife-blade in slow motion, disconnecting the web I had stepped in from the webbing that led into the bush. The yellow spider chose not to move, so I stepped to the left. The giant spider chose not to release another spark of electricity. Pausing again, I stepped further, finally, when they chose to simply observe, I moved to the opposite side of the trail. Presumably, those six unmoving eyes decided that making a meal-of-me wasn’t worth the cost of admission.

Which I was grateful for, because, well, I don’t actually know how I’d fight an electric-type. Bugs aren’t exactly known for their resilience to weather big attacks, are they? And even if we were, it’s not like I could rely on the games’ type charts. Bug-types usually poison other pokemon and run away, waiting for them to die, right? A spider that’s laying a web probably isn’t looking for a fight either. Scratching that one down to luck.

When I made it a good distance away, I turned around in front of the trail and made a dashed down the trail. Eventually, the threat and panic reduced, the higher and later rays of sun lulling me back to a kind of rest. On a leisurely pace through the trail, the rays of sun breaking through the canopy, I daydreamed of meeting humans, meeting their pokemon, and making friends. Occasional squawks or chirps of various pokemon were all that disturbed my dreams.

At evening, my pace quickened with the falling of the sun. It was as if I were waking up from a daydream while driving a car on a long road trip. The realization hit me anew. I’m a POKEMON! I’m literally TRYING TO FIND HUMANITY?

I only really knew two offensive techniques, other than biting. I could fling leaves, you know, like Razor Leaf; I could flip out the leaves that are grafted on my arms, like hecking swords or blades! I could maybe also use my internal silk stores to make a thick rope? This stuff took time to dry, and didn't feel like it’d be good for anything…but…slowing…the…enemy…down… Like a string shot.

With the sky turning a dark shade of pinks and oranges, I hit the first real sign of humanity (outside of the trail and a couple of shoeprints, anyway). It’s literally a sign. I…couldn’t read it. My vision is warbled, the sign covered with marks and lines that looked like they should have meaning. Some kind of runic language?

Hmm, I thought. It was plausible that the pokemon world would use a different language than English. Ugh, I groaned.

Oh well, I don’t have time to think about it. I need to see the city! Since the sign seemed to be where another trail and the one I was on merged, and was facing the one trail, I continued my course, away from where I had come, and away from where I had found the sign, assuming it led the opposite direction I wanted to go.

While I practically ran down the road, I decided the world was a death trap. Living in the wild sucks: Death at any moment? And no one to talk to! Other grass-types were dumb. For all that I doted on them, the grumps just sat there, all clothed in the leaves I made them, looking angry all day! I wanted conversation! A partner! Someone who smelled good! At least another pokemon like me. Which they were not. And well, they didn't smell bad. But.

The lumps, bunches of boring grumps! They clicked and cried as I left, but I just couldn’t stay in the nest.

While walking through the night, I occasionally paused, grabbing a berry here or there to eat. I was taller than most things I’d met. But not tall enough to scare off a couple venipedes! Berries were getting harder to come by, though the storage of energy from the photosynthesis kept the actual hunger pains at bay.

I needed to decide what to do if I was going to meet a human. Would they try to catch me? How did pokeballs work in this world? Pokemon didn’t die in either the anime or the games. And I couldn’t poke-speak. And I was able to run away from a pokemon without it turning into a full battle. I couldn't rely on any prior knowledge other than the most basic outlines.

The smell in the air began to shift again, away from the light metallics, and to a lightly acrid, smoky smell, drifting into my senses. SOMEONE or SOMETHING had been burning something. Wasn’t a small or old fire, at least.

Continuing the trek was easy enough, just requiring that I walked and stayed on my toes (hah! Get it? I don’t have any! Or feet). And then I came across the first sign of actual, living humans other than that train. Well, first sign? First humans. Uh, they looked kitted out with a few pokeballs on their hips.

Nope, no thanks, keep your ball. I’ll just shadow along from back here.

Bushes became real interesting as I foraged for some berries. Gosh, they were so SLOW. I could pass them, but then what if they pull out a bird-type, or worse, fire? Nope, yeah, no thanks, not happening.

Using my human-smarts, I could probably-maybe outsmart most pokemon, but the chances of one being able to simply crush me through sheer experience or attrition is way too high. Or, what if I were to get hit by a pack or just overwhelming force? Yeah no, fighting as a pokemon was still way too risky.

While trailing behind, I tried to listen in to what the hikers were saying...but the words were sliding off. Whatever they were saying. I could tell there was structure, and that they were saying things, but just like when I tried to read the sign, the meaning of what they were saying never connected. Word and sentence recognition just wasn’t there. Well. Maybe the story would be different if I had actually-good ears instead of vibration sensors?

You’d think that sensing vibrations from speech would help more, but actually, there’s a lot of different vibrations all at once, and it’s more useful for sensing “is something there” than communication.

Whatever they were doing, they were on their way home. When they finally stopped, we were at… more trail, but this one was lightly paved. And there was a pair of bikes. Were they going to bike… home in the dark? They must not live very far from here, or were just going home from a weekend of camping. It had to have been getting pretty late, at least. They must not have any bird-types they could fly on, either. Well, whatever.

A couple minutes of quickly-waning patience later, and the two of them were gone. They had lights on their bikes, so at least other people could SEE them.

With the humans gone, and probably heading towards civilization, the energy I was practically buzzing with began to leak, and my speed among the trail increased, as I began to run my bug-legs through their paces (heh).

Filled and charged with stored up energy from a day in the sun, I ran towards the unknown destination of the unknown human city.

 

[zoru22]

~~~ Chapter 2 - Frequency ~~~​

I think I was running for about eight hours when I came to the realization that no matter how much energy I have, or how good I feel…Bugs probably aren’t meant to jog or run all night long.

I learned that, quite abruptly, as my legs decided they weren’t going to work anymore; not as a loss of accuracy, not wobbliness, no, not anything in particular, they just…stopped putting any force behind the movements, my arms and face were introduced to the ground. Learning moments! So here I am now, a bug/leaf type pokemon on the edge of an asphalt trail path, crawling my way into the bushes and trees of the encompassing woods.

At least we were still deep into the night, and there weren't any humans headed up the trail. Nor did I see any signs of humans stopping at the side and camping.

I’d been following the asphalt trail for a long time, at least long enough to get bored. There were a few splits along the way like before, themselves with signs, but I just picked a side and hoped for the best. There were a couple of signs I passed by, with images on them, but like before, the sky was getting lighter as the sun threatened to come up, so I figured it was only a matter of time until campers or hikers started heading up the mountain. Do a lot of people work for a living in the Pokemon world?

Anyway, the sun was coming up and my leg joints had decided they’d had enough. I’d made it to a bush with some small but serviceable leaves. This particular bush, though small and with small leaves, it would have to do, even if only a few meters away from the trail. It was probably a bad idea to be exposed to humans while I was so tired and weak that I was practically defenseless. Regardless of these fears, I wasn't ready to figure out how pokeballs worked first-hand. Also, it would suck, royally-so, to have to continue crawling along another half-hour while hoping a smaller predator didn’t see me and use the opportunity to turn me into their next delicatessen.

I extended my arm, biting off a chunk of the green at the end of my arm-leaf-blade. I then turned the blade flat, using the goopy silk stuff that my mouth produced. Gluing the piece of leaf to the end, I turned it into a makeshift crutch. All without accidentally swallowing the leaf. As a fairly universal herbivorous animal, I could eat leaves in a pinch. They weren’t very nutritious, however, and well, the thought of eating the leaves I had grafted onto myself… It gave me a bad feeling. Like how a snake swallowing itself would eventually die, I’d probably suffer enormously if that became a habit. At least, that's what my instincts had to say about that thought.

On the topic of being caught? Yeah, I don’t fancy myself a fighter. At all. And well. I'm just going to avoid it if I can. Even if Ash Ketchum, or one of the protagonists from the video games—I'd never trawled enough wiki's know what name they called the pokemon protagonists—even if one of them showed up with a palm-frond fan and a bowl of sugary cherries... Well, there were these really great red sugary cherries near where I woke up—that's not the point! I wasn't getting caught or eaten by a predator JUST BECAUSE I overdid it on Leg Night. Nope, not going to let myself look like a three-foot-tall meal platter.

These leaves that gave stupid birds pause and acted as armor were putty under my preening. With the crutch I'd just made myself, I set the arm down on the ground, using a bit of pressure on it, the leaf wrapping the end blunting the pressure a bit, I propped myself up and crawled around the bushes to the other side of the tree. I needed to get up high and lay in the sun while I slept. Biting again into my little leaf-blade-slash-crutches, I gave them little hooks.

I tested one arm hook, and it stayed steady. One arm after the other, I used my upper body to pull myself up the tree. I got to work once I hit a good height and a nice thick set of branches in a spot facing away from the trail.

Cutting off a bunch of leaves and grafting them onto myself and my leaves everywhere I could, the work was quick. The extra leaves would help me to mimic a branch, which should keep most predators from spotting me while sleeping. Another thing about being a pokemon that is pretty nice: instincts make a lot of work practically automatic. All I have to do is hold on to the idea and, with only a little input, my body almost-but-not-quite auto-pilots itself. Like a well-trained soldier automatically reloading a weapon. When instinct signaled the work was done, I bit a little into the cuffs of leaves on my legs, hooked them onto the branch, and attempted to lay as flat as possible, embedding them and my notched-arm-blades. There would be no falling off this branch. Accidentally, anyway. If a bird of prey or any other strong predator spotted me? Could be a different story.

One thing about being a… whatever I am, sleep comes at the strangest time of the day. It doesn’t happen too much, but usually at this transitionary period of the day between night and dawn. The first rays of the morning spring sun were hitting my leaves and torpor took me, casting me to dreams of going to the city and meeting Lance, the old Kanto champion. During the day, I feel like I'm awake and aware, and I just naturally sleep for a few hours during the night, but this had been the first time I'd felt a real need to get some real sleep so dramatically.

That hadn’t been the first time I dreamt of teaming up with a trainer. I’d dreamt of getting caught a lot, sometimes nightmares, other times they were dreams come true. But what’s funny about it is that, well, I’m not a fighter. I guessed I could learn, but everything I’ve ever done has just been to fend off predators. Seeing myself at the top of a league with a trainer? Not my style.

I had once dreamt of going to the city and meeting Ash. Others were of me getting run over by a miltank. Still others, I was paired up with Blue, from the games. As my vision went from a dark nothing, to a fading-in red, images of leaves and sewing them with my natural silk pervaded my imagination. Sewing them together and giving them to people and pokemon alike, like a clown with balloon animals, a subconscious part of me was constantly thinking of designs even while I had dreamt.

Bits of intonations and vibrations came and went, what I’m sure were humans and voices or the calls of wild pokemon fighting each other off in the distance. Perhaps a morning trainer battle?

Eventually, it was the vibrations of a train—closer than before, but still far away—which led me out of the state of torpor.

The image of a skarmory in my mind, the steel-typed feathers impressed themselves on me. It didn't take much to imagine that they'd give kitchen knives a run for their money. In that quasi sleepy but waking state an idea came to mind. What if… I had a few extra leaves coating me, sharp, like knives of my own? It would work as a decent distraction keeping birds and others that would want to prey on me as I rested in the daylight. Facing away

Holding in the idea and only initiating the base motions, I went to work; as my leaves were soaking energy from the early afternoon sun, I prepared for the next leg of the journey. Would anyone mess with a bird with feathers of steel that could probably deal slicing and stabbing wounds?

Not likely. At least not without stupidity or raw power to back them up. They were menacing. The new leaves I grafted on were already pretty strong from several hours of being in the sun, so maneuvering around, each new leaf-blade that covered me soon ended on a point. After the leaves on my arms had been filed and chopped a bit, they had the visage of a serrated steak knife. A steak knife ending in a tipped hook.

Say what you will about bugs, half of our abilities feel like they’re just pure instinct. I hadn’t even done anything but think of the image in my mind, and most of the job was done without thought. This road seemed to have a couple people on it. Some kind of nature hiking trail, or neighborhood jogging trail? I didn’t see any houses.

Then again, this is the pokemon world. Trains and boats are the primary means of mass transportation, so with the increasing frequency of humans, I had to be near at least a small town. The games, I would learn, really didn’t do the scale and size of the actual towns justice.

I crawled down the tree, continuing to think as I progressed along the direction of the trail about a hundred meters off. The land was pretty flat, overall. Not a lot of hiking. Just a few hills here and there. The thick shrubbery kept me out of sight from most humans, and hopefully the leaves looked a bit more menacing to potential predators.

When I saw the first building, it was a little wood shed with some people in green uniforms. Local rangers or some regional park service, I’d guess. Getting around the building through the bushes was pretty trivial, but it was a good sign I was getting closer to human civilization and out of the raw wild. Then again, the way both the anime and games worked, there were a LOT of wilds between each city, compared to back when I lived as a human in a continuous unending recursive hellscape of the same fast food restaurants and big box stores every ten miles. Civilization being so far apart here was actually refreshing, especially when the only city noise I'd felt had come from a damn train.

Traveling was pretty uneventful the rest of the time, in comparison, though I did see a few more flying silver steel birds. There must have been a mountain that they roost on nearby that I couldn’t see. Or maybe they were trainer-owned and ferrying their trainers around, and these had been the same ones I saw the other day?

Closer to evening, I passed a lone human on their way down the trail. I gave them a look, and tried to say “coming up from behind”. What came out: “eaaa v eeeaaa eee cth”. Yeah, not speaking human any time soon. The person turned. They had dark black hair and wore a plain shirt with blue jeans. Their face, it felt flat to my perception, their eyes indiscernible, I could not tell what, if any emotions they felt, and the scent of them in the air was a kind of salt mixed with a light dash of phosphorous. They just whistled and continued on their way, not even bothering to slow down.

This was a man, I'd guessed, judging by their frame and their peculiar, synthetic smell about them. Their body language was a kind of confidence, belayed by their non-threatening posture, whistling as I passed. When I finally got out of whatever this trail was, the sun was falling over the horizon, and the charge from the day’s sun was beginning to buzz. Not aiming for another collapse in my legs, I forced myself to pause when I felt-heard another train rushing by in the distance.

I wanted to try and learn to whistle like the guy, but my tongue didn’t have half as much mass as I had as a human. Neither did I even have teeth. I could push my tongue up against the hard… uh shell? skeleton? Carapace? Whatever it was that was there in place of human teeth, it was jagged, good for cutting, chopping, and slicing. But whistling, I was not going to be able to do. That said, I already learned how to build up the pressure on the silk vestibules passing through my mouth. My silk had a pretty good range. At least three body-lengths away when I pressed my tongue up against the outlet and sprayed.

This was the second morning but the beginning of the third day of my journey. With only a couple stray birds eying me, the night had gone on well enough. The light from the city showed itself long before I caught the industrial scents: a dense smell of old smoke and hints of dark black fumes I hadn’t sensed before.

Once again, the light vibrations of a train in the distance were there to remind me of my goal and direction! What were the humans up to? What was I going to find? It had been too long since I actually played or seen any Pokemon stuff, and I couldn’t actually remember that many towns or cities from either the anime OR the games.

Cresting a small hill, I was immediately reminded that my eyes couldn’t see long distances for shit. From what I could gather, the sense I felt from both the colors and the smell. Pretty dumpy. A sprawl of browns and grays and what I think were criss-crossing train tracks. In the distance, I could also see a few buildings threatening to be high-rises, but nothing special. I wasn’t aware of any towns which had an emphasis on trains.

 

[zoru22]

~~ Chapter 3 ~~​

Two things are definitely different between regular Earth and this one. Musing, I stepped over a piece of metal rail, dashing through, not letting my feet stay on a piece of sun-heated gravel for too long. There’s almost no roads capable of holding vehicles like cars or trucks. Whatever this city is, they got most of their shipping by train; not much shipping seemed to be going through regardless— I hadn’t even noticed the first train until a couple of days-or-so-ago. Either I'd been learning to get used to and process things like a pokemon, and missed the earlier trains, or the place just wasn't the busiest.

The second thing that I'd been noticing as different is that, well, there just weren’t that many humans. Sure, there were a few out and about, and I wasn’t exactly in the midst of a city, but it was miles between houses and buildings. Signs of civilization outside of the occasional outpost, house, or people on bikes were far between. Either this area just wasn’t densely populated, or this world’s humans just weren’t the apex predators they were in my past life. Which, well… This was Pokemon. In comparison to the world I grew up in, here, humans weren’t always portrayed as the apex predators in the pokemon worlds I knew about. So it wouldn't have surprised me if there was a mechanism in this world that was keeping the human population from exploding.

Arceus, the sun and heat is nice, I thought, crossing over another row of tracks. Vibrations and rustling pulled me out of my half-dazed reverie. I stood straight, turning my head to look behind me to see two pairs of garbage bags rolling around, probably sweltering in the sun, here on the edge of a trainyard.

Trubbish, their faces showing, the animated bags of trash shuffling their way over, slowly approaching my location. My leaves and headdress apparently failing to deter these would-be predators. The toxic/garbage types are probably all omnivores, eating whatever they can get a hold of.

I flipped out my blade-arms in a display of my razor-sharp leaves, but neither their faces, nor their continued approach registered my threat. The sun was beating down, there wasn’t any water or food for me nearby. I could eat soil for the nutrients from the ground, but the sugar in berries was what gave me that extra boost to get up and recover from a day of running. And well, I can get that from literally eating dirt. I needed berries or fruits, roots and nuts.

Going into the city while following beside the railroad would miss human notice, but, well, if it was going to attract these particular hungry city-dwellers… Not the best idea.

Not wanting to fight with the trubbish or spend my razor leaves for a pair of walking trash bags bumbling their way towards me, I turned the other way. Crossing the hot gravel was a mass of oily, purple goop sliding in my direction, leaving a trail of slime over the ground it passed over. I could taste the toxins in the air as they drew closer, looking for a meal.

Trying to walk into the open railyard was a bad idea. The trains might not be moving a whole lot, but that just seemed to mean it was a perfect place for the refuse of pokemon to live. I can’t imagine the trash and toxin types were terribly-desired pokemon. I reflexively raised my right blade-arm as the grimer spat at me, deflecting their poisonous sludge with grafted leaf. My welcome overstayed, I dashed, clearing as much distance from my would-be pursuers as I could. I ran across the railway, purple sticking to my blade.

It was faint, but while running, I noticed that the leaf on my forearm was starting to turn purple, dark veins spreading amidst the green, threatening to enter the root system of my arms. I’d been hit with a pretty toxic piece of poisonous slop. After getting a good distance away from my pursuers and only seeing a few roosting bird types of some kind on some trees near the edge of the rail yard, I paused from my dash and inspected the leaf. It was turning purple, the lines in it threatening to spread to my arm.

With my healthy arm. I took one blade and sheared the poisoned leaf off at the base where it was attached to my forearm. A numb feeling was starting to creep into my arm. Hopefully, the toxic sludge was in a small enough dose that I wasn’t poisoned by it. I didn’t relish the idea of having to try and find a Pokemon center or a helpful human on my first real day in a city.

Continuing to cross the rail yard, my mouth was parched. I hadn’t had water since I got to this dump of a city. With all these poison and garbage types around, I’d probably do well to stay away from trying to drink any public waterways.

I approached the edge of the railyard, and crossed into a first line of trees. There really wasn’t much shrubbery, just weeds and grass. Nothing which instincts said was a good leaf for replacing my shorn arm-blade. I’d have to do without. There would be a park with a water fountain or sprinklers that I could drink.

What I thought had been an extension of forest was only just a thicket of trees. A large line of trees, a few trees thick, mind, but nothing of use. The area on the other side was practically covered in warehouses, it seemed. Not enough access to sun or water for my needs, though.

It was another couple of hours of semi-uneventful walking. The vibrations of what I think was a car horn closer to the main fareway of the city roads entered my senses. For a whole lot of no one out here, the place sure had a lot of buildings and asphalt. And probably about as many potholes. The city had clearly seen better days.

I reached a sidewalk. It was just the end or beginning of a sidewalk, sure, but it was still a sidewalk, and it led to a bunch of apartment buildings mixed with some houses and townhomes, all their own drab browns and grays, with what passed-for-yards fenced in by chain links. Scanning for pokemon, I saw what I think was a purrloin resting on a sill off one of the buildings. At the very least, it was purple, and content to lay in the sun.

Despite the lack of human activity, like cars, people seemed to be living in the buildings, at least. Though looking at the Purrloin, eyeing me as I pass by. Memories of my cat in my human life came to mind. Shuddering, I pressed on. If it decided to follow… I readied up a couple of leaves in preparation for a warning shot, just in case.

I was taller than the purrloin, and probably more than twice its mass, sure, but here in the Pokemon world, mass probably wasn’t everything. And even then, when I was human, I’d seen my cat go after raccoons that were more than twice its mass, just because it was fun. Rest in peace, Racky the dead raccoon.

Do you know how many razor leaves a bug type like me can hold on their person at once? Not a lot. I can only hold six or so, embedded between the leaves on my abdomen. Also, fun fact about bug-types: the thorax is that thin chest area. For me, my thorax is where my arms connect to, and my abdomen extends out back behind my legs.

As I walked down the lane, past the dilapidated apartment buildings, I noticed—not a single car. Only bikes. And we had to be at least a few miles away from the city center. Humans. Small humans, at least. Shorter than me, seemed to be playing on a little patch of grass, with a rockruff, who hadn’t seen or smelled me yet.

Standing at my full natural height, like I would while walking, my eye level was about a foot higher than a fire hydrant. What? It’s not as if I had a meterstick anywhere. Or knowledge of the pokemon universe’s number systems! I was pretty clearly going to have to re-learn how to read, and it wasn’t as if I had a meterstick anywhere. Though I’m pretty sure I’m more than a meter tall, from antennae to the bottom of my feet.

Please don’t follow me please don’t follow me I said to myself as I crossed to the other side of the street and passed the kids, giving them and their rockruff a wide berth. The kids noticed me, and I tried to ignore them as the sounds of their talking stopped. I wasn’t worried until I heard the rockruff growling.

It yipped at me, jumping into the air, and… just as it was about to clear the yard, was yanked back. Tied to a post in the ground. I didn’t need another invitation, and booked it down the street, hopefully before the kids could call out to any parents or older kids. They were shorter than me by quite a bit though, so they had to have been pretty young. Something about the faces on humans just wasn’t registering.

I was more than double the stupid pup’s height, but I’d rather not have figured out that being double their height didn’t also mean double in mass. One kid grabbed the dog’s leash and said something in their higher-pitched tones as I walked off, their door slamming behind me. Hoping that I hadn’t attracted too much attention, I continued my pace forward, looking for a park with some healthy trees where I could have a chance of some potable drinking water.

What do you think an outer city row of dilapidated houses and apartments mixed together looks like? These weren’t high rises, by any means, but they all had the same style. Brick, brown, and drab. Through my compound eyes, shades of green poked behind the grey and brown. The city desperately needed some greenery. What passed for lawns over here were closer to little strips of green.

A very light, greasy or fatty smell entered my consciousness as I approached the trees from the sidewalk. Exactly what I was looking for. A crappy neighborhood park, complete with a metal slide and one of those things you can run around and jump on and get spun in circles. A couple of trees on the edge away from the playground and a water fountain by the sidewalk. I was set!

I heard a whimper behind one of the trees, a lanky kid, just below eye level with me, but with brown hair, surrounded by a couple of bulkier kids. Lanky clutched a bag close to their chest what could only have been their lunch. Little shits were trying to steal the kid’s meal, and I felt the anger come in. “Hey!” I yelled. Well, actually only a “Sqleee!” came out. But it did the job. It got the kids’ attention.

Whipping out my non-gimped blade-arm, and slid a razor’d leaf onto it. As I approached, I noted the bullies' smells and observed. They were pretty tall, actually. Several heads taller than me. And significantly beefier. Well, most humans are beefier than you if you're able to make a pretty good impression of a dancing stick bug, only bipedal. Pokemon are supposed to be stronger than humans on average, right? The two’s heads turned to each other and they seemed to have decided to back off of lanky. One had brown hair and the other was blonde. Bully Brown-hair said something to Bully Blonde-hair, and apparently they, uh, they decided I wasn’t that scary?

Lanky took that opportunity to run, which was good. Facing two humans, I didn’t really want to hurt them. Not taking their eyes off me, B. Blonde picked up a rock. Hm. And took a step closer to me. Not knowing what to do “eeeE!” I chirped at them and flung a razor leaf at B. Brown’s shoulder, then stepped back and to the side, giving them room to run.

Not letting them get close, just playing the threatening-game. They were probably each more than double my mass. Nope. Fffffuck that. I heard one say something, a bit of a yelp, really. But after their stagger from the blade hitting Bully Brown in the upper right, and stepping more to the side to give them a clearer way back to the road, the kids took the opportunity to run off, Bully Brown-hair clutching his right shoulder. No blood was visible, but if I actually got him, he’d be needing a visit to the doctor, the artificially-strong Leaves weren’t a joke.

This is my park now, bitches, I cooed to myself after the two bullies ran off. Taking better stock of my surroundings, I noted a small group of three or four trees, a playground covered in some kind of wood chips, and a decent grass area that probably hosted soccer matches. There was a little concrete outcropping and then I found what I was looking for: a water fountain.

Water. I was finally able to drink some. Or, I would have, if I could have figured out how the mechanism worked. There weren’t any buttons that I could see, no levers or knobs. With a slight movement and sound just to my side, I jumped away and flung out my one good blade-arm in posturing. It was Lanky… And he was holding a berry out. He was looking at my right arm, missing the leaf-blade.

He had a similar synthetic smell to the guy I’d passed the other day. Lanky was taller than me, by about a couple of inches, and had a kind of light brown hair. Everyone in the area had forgettable faces though. Committing faces to memory just seemed a lot harder than their smell and body shape.

Gosh, the berry smelled good. I dropped the threatening posture as he extended his arm out further to me and I approached, reaching out my arm with the leaf-blade, and using it to spear the berry a bit before I popped it in my mouth, mashing it and eating it as the sweet fruit sugar-juice spread.

Then, he approached the fountain and showed me where the button was to get the water out. It was nestled under the sides of the fountain, inlaid to the thing just a bit. What cruel design! He then held it there and my brain froze. Was the kid expecting me to drink with him holding it?

I got closer and shooed his hand away and tried to press the button… But I couldn’t! Well, I could press the button, and I could get my mouth to where the water was coming out, but I couldn’t both press the button and drink at the same time! Arceus above, this design was horrible! Defeated, I let him hold the button down for me. This was the only time I’d let a human do it for me though, I decided. I’d get a cup or something and drink from that if I had to.

I wasn’t a pet, and I wasn’t going to let myself get treated like one. At any rate, being refreshed from both the berry and the drink, the numbness in my right arm rapidly fading under the healing rays of the early afternoon sun, I looked at Lanky. He vocalized, their words incomprehensible to me, then motioned towards the tree, holding another berry.

I did need to graft a new leaf for my right arm-blade. Probably wouldn’t hurt to stick around for a bit longer before diving deeper into the town.

 

[zoru22]

~~~ Chapter 4 - Earned ~~~​

Lanky sat down under the tree, pulling from his bag a sandwich that smelled of sugar and eggs. Miltank meat? Maybe the one pheasant type, uh, unfezant, right? Climbing up the tree, again I reached out my stick-arm, rubbing the small barbs against the stem of a few leaves sticking out on the end of some branches. The leaves caught, and with a slight tug, they detached. As a medium-sized oak tree, the leaves were large.

I hopped back off the branch onto the ground and into the noon sun. A quick pull of muscle in my arm, and the leaves released onto the ground. Lanky talked. I turned my head to him. He proffered another berry, making an up-down motion with it in his hand.

Ugh. The kid continued waving his berry at me. What do you want, kid? I’m not gonna do tricks for food. Then he tossed the berry up in his hand and caught it. Ah. I open my mouth and he tosses it. The arc was too short, and I wasn’t about to try playing berry-catch with my mouth. It missed and hit me in the thorax. Spearing it with the end of my arm, I plucked it off and ate it. It was some good stuff. This shit was sweet.

Turning my attention back to the project in front of me, with the leaves in front of me, I sat down and spread the leaves apart. A quick slice down the center of each leaf's central vein, and they were ready for grafting.

A few more cuts to align the now-split leaves together, and they were in the basic outline of the curve of my right forearm. Lanky continued to take small bites of their sandwich, as I hummed to myself a little tune. “E, e, e eeA!”. Get me a record deal, stat.

It was time to sew them together. A quick pressure in my mouth, and I opened my jaw, letting it drip onto the leaves like a kid who didn’t know how to spit. Crisscrossing the silk over the split sections, the layout was set. While the silk began to dry, I tried whistling again, but the lack of muscles and flesh meant I couldn’t shape my lips, preventing me from making those high-pitched vibrations.

I picked up the soon-to-be-leaf-blade, and sewed it together all along the ridge that would get attached to my arm, first spraying it with silk, then biting small puncture holes and threading it through. Over-under, over-under, over-under, so the process proceeded.

Of all the leaves I’m covered with, only the ones behind my head seem to grow naturally. At least, grafting new ones on around the back would be an incredibly awkward affair. I hadn’t had to graft any new ones on in that spot. I set about laying a small line of silk like glue along the bottom of my arm.

Lanky continued to watch as I laid down on the ground in a plank-position, hoisted by my left arm, I slid my right arm into place, attaching the sewn-together leaves in place. There were rumples and some gaps, but once the leaves set, it would naturally iron out. This was the most complicated self-graft I’d performed my entire time since waking up as a pokemon.

That was when I heard it, or rather, felt the vibrations of it. The yipping. The dog I’d passed earlier, a few blocks down. Still in plank position, I waved my right arm around a little, raising slightly off the ground. The sliced-and-resewn-leaves wobbled, but remained attached.

The yipping was getting closer, followed by some kids’ voices.

I sat up again and stood back up on my legs, waving the new leaf-blade-to-be around a little. I’d just have to hope that it wouldn’t fall off while handling whatever was about to happen. When the leaf only wobbled a little, it would have to be enough. I could produce a surprising amount of silk, but that mass didn’t arise out of thin air.

Lanky was saying something, motioning, pointing towards the street. He wasn’t holding a berry. “Eeeeeaaa,” I moaned at him. He chirped back in response. “Sorry, leafbug. I don’t like dogs either.” I’m going to put words in humans’ mouths, so long as they’re not making any sense!

With the kid on my right and a view of the park and street to my left, I sense-heard the vibrations of the dog yipping. Once again, even as I stood up, Lanky’s mouth moved, and vibrations continued emitting from his vocal cords, but the dumb rockruff from down the road. Stupid dog. I hate dogs. It was barking more. Stupid, poorly-trained weiner dogs yipping away at me from the comfort of their owner’s purses as human-me tried to make a double-mocha frappe late on ice but minus all gluten, shaken, not stirred, oh, and it had to be lactose-free.

As the dog rounded a corner, the two bullies were in back. Bully Blonde held the leash as the rockruff tugged and yanked.

I stood up a bit taller, pulling out a couple of razor-leaf-blades and loading one onto my good arm, walking out towards the cement to greet my challengers, Lanky in tow. Two more kids rounded the corner, followed by the purrloin from earlier. Great.

The dog saw me and stopped barking, instead just trying to tow Blondie forward. Bully Brown-hair had changed shirts. Did potions work on humans? If I actually hit him with that blade from earlier, he didn’t show it. I didn’t see any pokeballs, either.

Despite the pup’s constant pulling, it didn’t strain or even break Bully Blonde’s grip, the end of the leash was lashed around his forearm, threaded through meaty fingers. The kid wasn’t fat. He had to be a good meter taller than me.

I stood up straighter and proffered my blades, the bullies stopping about 50 feet away, the smaller kids behind sat further back, watching me.

Oh, Arceus. This is going to turn into a straight-up pokemon battle. I tried to frown. Unfortunately, I don’t have the facial muscles for that. Instead, I spread out my blade arms and hissed as they approached.

In the games, even a smaller and weaker but trained pokemon could beat a wild one, if only by virtue of knowing better moves. I surveyed the surrounding area. With the park partially fenced off, the only place to fight was the street.

I looked at Lanky, who just shouted at the bullies with some exaggerated movement. “Leafy here’s going to make you regret bullying me!“ The dog was about a fourth of my height. And evidently, not really trained. The purrloin from earlier took its perch on one of the smaller kids’ laps as they sat even further back.

“Next you’re going to tell me there’s a torchic behind me and I’m about to die from some flame attack,” I complained, but neither the pokemon, nor the humans cared to respond. Probably because what came out was incomprehensible pokemon blabbering. Bully Blonde pulled the dog back and knelt down next to it, whispering into its ear. Well, it wasn't quiet enough that I couldn't pick up the vibrations, because I did hear them. But their words were about as comprehensible as my own. I did not understand human speech any more.

The dog was stupid and untrained. But that didn’t really mean I wanted to hurt it. So long as I didn’t take a direct hit, I could scare it and the bullies off from my park again. Grass-type advantage would give me some unfair extra damage. I resolved to resolve the interaction as best I could without harming the dumb dog.

I knew what to do, as I approached the center of the road, posturing some more. Encouraging the now-four-kids-two-pokemon to back down. Purrloin may have just been licking itself but decided to never take its eyes off me. Rockruff was barking again.

Improperly trained. Probably. I probably wouldn’t have to deal with complex strategies. An untrained animal might mean it wouldn’t stop if it got the upper hand when let off the leash. My arms being used as a chew toy for the dog weren’t an ideal image.

Lanky took a position directly behind me, saying things more to the bullies, who responded in kind. Insults, I was sure. At the bare minimum, the yipping dog-type would be limited by their owners.

Blondie let the dog off the leash, and time slowed as it launched straight at me.

The dog was 30 feet away, the leash hit the ground with a clink.

Straight at me. 20 feet away. The pressure built in my mouth, jaw clamped shut. I widened my stance and raised my right arm.

10 feet away. The thought of silk, the pressure held back behind the shut jaw.

The dog leapt at me, right at my thorax, right in the chest area.

5 feet away.

I step to the side with a twirl, raising my right arm and taking a couple steps back. The rockruff hits the street, moves to turn back around—and my right blade-arm was already there. Pressing the leaf into the animal’s shoulder, pushing it into the cement, I opened my jaw and sprayed the overeager pup with string.

A yell comes from behind me while I hold the dog down. Using the bottom of my leg to keep the dog still as the silk dried, I stood up.

Lanky takes a fucking bow. I spin around, rotating with all my weight still on the pup, turning to our aggressors. The dog lets out a soft whimper.

Whatever the fuck, I say to myself, mimicking Lanky’s motion with my left arm as I faced the would-be attackers, taking a bow of my own.

The dog will just be getting left with a good bruise today instead. Tentatively, I take pressure off the dog, and when it doesn’t get up… Holy shit. Time returns to normal, the dog rolls over, and the shouts from the bullies indicate they were presumably calling the animal back to them. No pokeball, no return. Shit sucks.

The area around me felt brighter.

With the bullies and their (siblings?) watching, I stuck my foot at the rockruff, gave it a nudge, measured the trajectory, calculated the needed force, and gave them some courtesy airtime on the rockruff express, right back to its owners, plowing into Bully Blonde in the chest and knocking him on the ass.

We all have dreams, all right? The skirmish decided, eyes, ears, and tail of my opponent drooping, I pulled a step back from the rockruff, who stands up and heads back to their owners. The drying silk keeping it from outright running, it trips over itself on the way back.

Proud of my restraint at giving the dog a trip on the discount airtime express, I looked at Lanky, his mouth moving as he talked. He offered up another berry from his bag.

When he tosses the berry. This time, he didn’t miss.

“You earned this”

 

[zoru22]

~~~ Chapter 5 - Pokeball ~~~​

The sun was bearing down on me, the heat amplified as I slid across the gravel, crossing over the iron and steel rails. A sour stench in the air, a trubbish crossed in front of me, blocking my path to the warehouse, emitting purple puffs of poisonous air from its putrid mouth—challenging me for my train yard.

I raised up my arms, proffering my blades, and hissed, warning it to get out of my way. Rolling, the trubbish lumbered towards me, lifting one foot up and pressing it forward, the garbage-bag animal rising and rotating with each step closer as I approached, their purple fumes pressed closer. We walked towards each other, time itself slowing down, a flash of green in my vision, to the side, the bag rolled slower and slower.

I stepped forward, another roll-step of the living trash continued on our collision course, even as I moved. A single slash, and the bag of garbage split like it had been filled with air. The abominable thing hadn’t been moving fast enough to even react to my aggression. A seam followed my slash down the middle, expanding like slow-motion video of a balloon popping, expelling a puff of the toxic air, old garbage spewing out onto the ground.

“Eeeaaaa,” I cooed, standing taller and extending my antennae. One more trubbish gone from the trainyard wastes. A single steel feather slid from the sky, splitting me in two, hitting the ground with a ting. My head hit the ground, a purple ooze moseys into view.

A man with black hair was riding a bike home, covered in grease and smelling like the trainyard. Sitting up, the grass where my arms had been was cut up. I'd dug or cut slight gashes into the ground. Behind me, Lanky was there, lying against a tree, staring at me. How long had I been out? The sun hadn’t moved much, so approximately an hour?

Lanky continued to stare. I curl my antennae back and stand up, looking him in the eyes. He looked away. Good.

The fading memory of the dream came to mind, followed up by memories. Pictures of a particularly problematic miltank from my past life made their way to mind. If I ever ran into a fire type equivalent or just a biological steamroller like heart-gold gym-leader whitney's roided-up cow, I was probably screwed six—no, seven ways to Sunday.

I was glad that neither the rockruff nor their owners had returned to the park. It had struggled quite a bit against the drying silk, tripping a couple times. After the second fall to the ground, Bully Blonde stepped forward and picked the dog up, cradling it as he stood back up. Facing Lanky, he said some stuff, then pointed at me. “We’ll be back, we know it’s not yours!” I intoned internally on his behalf.

He spoke his gibberish, trying to rub the silk off rockruff. Similar to shitty silly string on a spring morning, most of it didn’t actually come off right away. He turned and glanced down, cradling the dog in one arm, while trying to peel off the silk piece by piece. It would be a bit longer before it would be dry enough to be peeled off.

As he walked off, Bully Brown motioned at the kids, who followed them in relative quiet. The purrloin stuck in back for a moment, giving me a stare, then turned around, following the smallest kid.

Behind me, Lanky was holding up his bag. He lifted it up with one hand, then held another one under it, turning the bag upside down. When nothing fell out, I complained, “Eaaaaa.” Without food, what else could the kid offer? Drama lessons? Actually, with the way I moved, I was already by-default using exaggerated motions…

Look, I’m not saying I’m motivated by food. It’s just commerce. I’m just… I’m just saying, you're not going to say no to doing things for good berries. Goods and services. Like a performer or bodyguard gets paid. It sure beats endlessly foraging, all right?

I went back to a tree that was across from Lanky, climbing up it and plucking off some leaves as the kid just talked into the air. I was getting thirsty, and I already committed to drinking from the fountain without help.

Some silk, some artistry, and a dash of patience, and the kid stopped talking, as I held a bowl made of leaves that I had formed, spindly arms holding the last bit in place. With the silk set, seemingly holding the leaves together, I let go, leaving the bowl to dry a bit. Slicing a chunk off the leaf that was the topmost cuff-link on my left leg, I set it out in front of me.

I cut the piece in half and bit small chunks out of each half, into hooks. The final product that formed was small, about the size of a teacup. Clacking my jaw open and shut, click click, click, I chirped in satisfaction. I sewed the hooks on. Two on top, the bottom of the bowl would press into a hardened leaf-blade. Lanky stared at the bowl as I waved it around, trying to let it dry and seal up a bit faster. Giving the sides of the cup a little prod with my right arm, the leaves held firm.

Skipping on my way to the fountain, I set it down right about the spot where the water would land, and filled it up. Using one arm to hook the cup, the leaves sagged slightly under the weight of the water, but the silk held it all together. Hooked onto my left arm, I tilted it towards my mouth and used my right arm to secure the bowl.

It worked well enough. I could probably do the whole thing with one arm if I added another hook on the bottom of the bowl and made a small hole in my leaf-blade. I’d have to start from scratch. Not keen on doing that, I took a couple more drinks before my thirst was sated.

The afternoon sun had progressed, and was threatening to get late. I went back to where Lanky was sitting, having watched me in complete silence, his mouth began twitching then he coughed, and started closing his eyes, rolling on the grass and dirt, coughing harder. What?

When the coughing fit stopped, he turned back over, water glistening in his eyes. Had he been crying? He had been coughing so hard he was crying? Wait. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, letting out a few more…

I clicked, my jaws slightly open. He was laughing!

Throwing my cup at Lanky’s feet, I climbed into the tree and grabbed some more leaves, stuffing them in what remained of the leaf-cuff on my right leg, and beginning my trek to the city center. There had to be some sort of regulations restricting trainers from battling and catching Pokemon in the middle of the city, right?

Head high and watching for birds, I left the park as Lanky recovered. It took a bit of wandering around until I found a road not totally covered in potholes. Looking down, this main thoroughfare led to the city center. Even so, there weren’t a lot of bikers or cars this far out. One here or there. As I walked forward, the number of people increased. I’m a bug. Flashes of green, gold, and blue hair. They all towered over me.

Looking back at the road, lumpy and uneven, the road was covered in holes. Lanky hadn’t followed. Probably heading back home for the day. Do kids even go to school? I looked back at the thoroughfare. Smooth, even, decent traffic, but no congestion.

Proceeding, the bikes clearly outnumbered the cars. Easy, not even a question. There weren’t that many people for a town that covered this much area. Ten to one. And they didn't ride on the sidewalks either! Talk about courtesy.

Drab smudges of gray in the distance indicated smokestacks. The blue sky behind them indicated they weren’t in use. How does a city with this much infrastructure fall apart? What even was the industry that used to be here? And what was keeping the rest of the people here?

What keeps a person in a city, decades after the city’s best years had passed, and the industry moved on?

The sun overhead was turning yellow as the density of people moving about increased. Bikers and pedestrians kept their distance, allowing me to pass by.

I was in a little building, sunlamps overhead. The sunflower pokemon were sitting in a tray, and customers were passing through the shop on their way home. I was wearing an apron of leaves, a whistle called for me, and I came to the front. A girl in the front of the store looked at me. Another whistle.

The walk was pretty good. People kept their distance from me, the buildings had shifted from tan, brown, and drab — the classic “none here but ghosts” vibe — to a cleaner, slicker blue-gray — a “someone might live or work here” drab vibe instead. Though the blue might just be from the sky shifting to a darker blue.

Evening was threatening its arrival. At least it wasn’t night. I had been slowing down. And the daydreams probably meant that I actually still needed sleep. Somewhere down the line into the center, the smell shifted from oil and metal and coal to perfume and frying food and flowers and plastic.

Taking a break for a moment, I saw a few small shops. One I had just passed had a bunch of thin tablet-like pads and screens facing the street in its displays. With various videos of Pokémon and what seemed to be high-profile trainer battles. Up ahead was the smell of grilling meat. A cart with a decent line of people in front indicated it was similar to a hot dog stand.

Continuing the walk, said line of people had taken notice of me. They stared, a couple of younger kids in the line holding their digital devices in my direction, presumably cameras recording me, but gave room as I passed. Their devices, whether phones, tablets or whatever—still didn’t look like anything in the displays in the storefront, at least.

After passing them, I stood up taller and began to hum. “Ea Eah, e e Eah”, I murmured, holding my arms close to my body to appear as non-threatening as possible. A lady in a blue uniform was directing people near the next intersection, a bird on her shoulder with a red and white feather on its forehead sticking almost straight up. The form of the pokemon was reminiscent of an eagle chick.

A fair few people glanced at me, then moved to the opposite side of the street, per the waving of her hands. Bugger. The bird had already been looking at me. You don’t see anything, bird! A flash of light, a reflection to my right moved. It was on a door next to a closed store, dark tinted glass. What stared back? Red, unblinking eyes. A pair of loose antennae. My dark green thorax, yellow abdomen. Jaw fixed in a permanent grin.

Waving my arms, inspecting them in the mirror. My right arm blade looked a complete mess on both sides. Like an old blanket that couldn’t be patched up again. Bike traffic in the road behind had effectively cleared out.

I examined my antennae in the reflection, pulling them this way and that, then waving my arms some more as well. Standing up taller, pulling them against my head, I peeked through the window. A light was on. The store wasn’t closed. A reflective film was just on the inside-bottom of the window.

A few humans had stopped, another person, this time a guy, dressed in blue like the lady who had waved them on. Onlookers from the other side of the street tried to hold their cameras at me even as they were forced to move on. I opened and shut my jaw, rotating around to inspect as much as I could. A single thin tongue inside my mouth. The vestibules where the silk was pushed through.

I looked up. A blue and red sign blinked. Lights were on in the building. A metal handle in front of me. The smell. The smell of… berries. Lots of berries. Different kinds of berries.

The vibrations of the clicks of each camera through the air. I was a bug. The store wasn’t closed.

A few cars were parked on the side of the road, a small crowd had gathered to watch, before a lady in dark blue shooed them along. She whistled. I finished inspecting myself, and turned to begin exploring anew.

Another whistle, and in front of me stood a bird. One with a single red and white feather at the center of their forehead. In the lady’s hand, was a pokeball. With a small chirp, the lady whistled and the eagle-chick fluttered off its perch to stand in front of me.

She was taller than me by a couple feet. The chick was shorter than me by a couple feet. I am a wild, bug-type pokemon.

She had a Pokeball.

And I.

I am a pokemon.

 

[zoru22]

~~~ Chapter 6 - Challenges ~~~​

In this world, humans are like swimmers and divers in the ocean. All types of deep divers and scuba swimmers learn about the second layer of seawater, called brine. This second type of salty water has taken many divers by surprise. You may not notice that the layer of brine is even there until you are in it. One moment, you can see. Next, you’re in a world of blur and lose where you are. Even long-time professional divers can die if they lose their anchor points to the world around them, of location, orientation and direction.

~~~​

Cameras clicked—whether from phones or otherwise, I didn’t know. The girl didn’t whistle again, and her pokemon chose to stay still. Well-trained, it was waiting for a command. The blue uniform. Local police? Blue and a uniform. Probably. Didn’t see anything that looked like a badge. She held the ball in her hand, shifting it, rotating it around with her wrist in a circular motion.

I slid to the left, away from the store glass. Closer to the road. I took a step back. The eagle chick stared at me, cocking its head. It looked me in the eyes, its feathers puffed up. Didn’t seem to care that I was twice its size. Battles probably caused a good amount of property damage. It hadn’t taken very long for the pedestrians to clear. Unlucky timing, I guess? I wasn’t directly cornered. The other police-person had disappeared.

I took another step back and risked a chance to cast my head around. On the way in I only admired the city. I hadn’t paid attention to potential hiding spots. I snapped back to the eagle chick and the girl. If I could get about four blocks of dist—movement on the girl’s face. There hadn’t been anyone behind me. The girl stepped closer. I took another step back. The horizon had been shifting orange.

I could fight, and try to put the bird into submission. A fight was a challenge, however. The default behavior to a challenge? In Pokemon world? My challenges? My attempt to ward other Pokemon off? The default was always accepting. The permanent grin, the lack of sharp teeth. I was shorter than all the cars I’d passed.

A single, wild Pidgey’s gust can send me tumbling. A single drop of poison can put my blade-arm out of commission. I’m not a fighter, damn it! I don’t want to fight! I rubbed my blade-arms together. Fighting is dumb. I continued stepping back, another step into the street, the bird stalking closer.

“Aaaeeyy,” I moaned, turning my now-split-in-two right leaf-arm out. I want to garden. Yeah, instead of fighting. Gardening. An actual garden. With flowers, succulents, bushes, fertilizer. The works. Not fighting. Birds are dumb. Fighting birds is double-dumb.

The pressure in my mouth built. I took another step back, entering direct line-of-sight with the officer. No longer diagonal to her. She whistled again, the bird shaking its head, opening its wings and standing as high as it could, marching at me. I held my arms back closer together. I didn’t want to hurt it. I wasn’t challenging anyone. I slipped my left arm down, pulling out a razor leaf. Its wings, larger than expected. It was less than half my height. Didn't even rise to mid-thorax.

She tossed the pokeball into the air.

It went up a couple feet.

Above her head.

It came down.

It fell back to her hand.

Probably my last good leaf. Looking away would be game over. The bird was too close. Couldn’t look down. The others needed time. I held the pressure in my mouth. Getting caught is game over.

The bird sauntered closer, trying to intimidate. Sorry, shortstuff. Glad you’re not bigger or made of steel. Not that I wanna fight you! I opened my mouth to spray the bird, to cover it in string, turning and ditching as fast as I could.

I would have done that. If silk had actually come out, that is. Instead, the eagle chick—no, not just eagle chick—rufflet just flinched, and only a single, short spurt of silk came out, just draping it. It continued to march closer to me, unfazed, about thirty feet away, warbling with each step.

The girl was drawing closer. I held my left arm horizontal against my thorax, razor-leaf sitting on top. Even if I was able to take out this one, how many pokemon did she have? Would she chase me?

She’d give chase. In the world I knew, dangerous, non-domesticated animals weren’t allowed to run around cities, and in the pokemon world, these rules probably weren’t any different.

Hopefully, she wouldn’t take it personally.

I flung the leaf. The bird jumped back, flapping its wings. She yelped, looking down at her midsection. A gust of air scratched into my torso, tossing me off-balance. The rufflet looked at her.

It looked back at me, as if to say “Did you really just?”

Yeah, I did. I turned.

It screamed.

I ran.

I ran as fast as my spindly legs could take me. I was relying on the leftover stores of energy from the day of sun. An indignant caw echoed behind, the flapping of wings as it began pursuit. Straight down the main road I ran, chittering, running through a crowd of people. A gust of air, a whoosh behind me. I tucked in my antennae, dipping to the left, barely dodging the bird’s dive. It blew past, turning to loop around.

Cutting through the pedestrians who watched, clicking my jaw as I ran, as if to say “Get out of the way! Definitely, yessir, just a normal spooked, don’t-mess-with-me, no-morals, scared wild pokemon coming through!” A couple of them jumped back in surprise. A ball flew at me. One of the onlookers. A trainer? Even in the early evening, they’d have to do better than that.

I turned to my left. It was the other police officer, breathing hard, his face red. A pokeball in his hand. The lady officer’s partner. He threw it. A flash of red, and facing me was the evolved form of a rockruff— a lycanroc. Standing on two legs, their eyes glowing, body marked in red in their midnight evolution, the creature stood, their own teeth stuck in a kind of threatening smile.

I turned around and ran the other way. Nope. Nopenopeno. No thanks. He shouted, but I had already started running the other way. The bird dived on me again, grabbed my antennae and pulled. Hard. It flapped, yanking more. Pulling me off-balance. The lycanroc hit me from behind. A yank, and the vibrations were muted. The lycanroc had launched us into the middle of the street. The lady officer was walking to us, limping at first, then her gait straightened as she proceeded.

She looked down at me, as I laid down, limbs splayed, lycanroc sitting on my back, her rufflet content to poke at my torn antennae. All my instincts and all my heart were screaming to run. But this was it. She held the ball out and tossed it up and down a couple times, taunting me. She dropped the ball on my head, and with a flash of red light, I was caught.

While in the pokeball, my senses were muted, and I finally had time to think. And, I think I realized, I fucked up. Not a little. A lot. I really, really fucked up. I couldn’t breathe. I heard beeping. Muffled sounds of voices around me.

When I was human, animals that so much as looked scary that were around humans were put down. A dog scratching a child and making it cry? Put. Down. I had attacked or threatened, in no less than 24 hours, at least three humans. Yeah. There was more than enough evidence to put me down. And well, there were plenty of ways for that to happen. A Skar—No. A final beep. I was gasping for air.

No, I wasn’t going to let that happen to me. I can chaaange! A click. “Eeeaaaa,” I screamed. A flash of red, and I was standing on tile. Fluorescent lights in the ceiling. Soothing energy flowed. Not as good as sunlight, but windows indicated the sun was gone. Facing me…was the lycanroc. Oh. It was staring. Blocking the door to the outside. On my right, was the lady officer. Her bird pokemon, sitting on her shoulder, looking down, opening its mouth, threatening to squawk.

Dead. That’s what I was. The windows were too high. The lady finally noticed me hopping away at the wild pokemon that had escaped their entrapment. I needed distance. There, to the right, was another door. It had a flat handle on it.

Clacking my jaws as loud as I could, I ran to the door. The lycanroc also launched after me. It was only twenty feet away. I hooked the handle with my right arm-blade, pulled the door open, swung myself in, forearm still hooked, pushed the door shut as hard as I could. “EEEEE,” I screamed, stars in my eyes as I crushed my spindly forearm between the door and the wall as I tried pulling it shut. I couldn’t breathe, the police dog whining on the other side.

Yanking my arm, I shear the foreblade off. Half my right forearm now missing its leaf again, bent and wobbling like a bit of loose string tied to the end of a wire as I ran down the small hallway. “Cha—.” A chansey sounded from a room at the end of the hall. I dash in. A window! I’m free! I run in, shutting the door behind me, avoiding catching my good arm in the door again. Cages, sinks. A window. A room full of metal torture devices, a cart. “Eee!” I screamed, pushing the chansey into the cart and out of my way. “Eeeeyyyyy!” it joins in our now-mutual screeching as it falls onto the ground. I jump over the pink blob, further shoving the cart into the wall, climbing on top, then jumping at the window with full force.

The cart slid backwards. All my vertical and horizontal momentum shifted the wrong way. I fell face-first to the floor. The cart slams into the door behind us, causing a short yelp from the hallway.

The door opens.

I was dead before. Now I was probably extra-dead.

Is my right arm leaking?

 

[zoru22]

~~~ Chapter 7 - Kennel ~~~​

Unmoored, and missing the visions and dreams of the future, humanity has become lost in this brine. Only the Great Rai or Great Cress can help you navigate it, these are the dreams I have had. The Great Rai has gifted us with these warnings, that we are lost in this brine. Cresselia calls us to a future of greater unity and love towards pokemon, showing us the good in the future, our diving partner pointing us at where we should go in this great confusion.

~~~​

I couldn’t breathe. The chansey had begun to talk. I was going to die. I made to stand up. Melodic tone, “Eeyy eeeyy eeyyyY”. A simple refrain, the chansey sung without even getting up. I made to stand up. Head spinning, my vision wobbled to the healing pokemon's tune. My mangled arm, fluid dripping out on the floor. The nurse in the door had a blanket.

“Yyyaaa Seeeeyaaaa.”

I tried to take a step towards the nurse, standing in the door. Everything in my vision wobbled, shifting gray. I tried to move my leg. I managed to shuffle a single step forward. I gasped for air. I tripped, and fell, bouncing into the cotton embrace, my vision went dark.

Beep. The sounds of medical monitors accompanied my dreams. “Beep-beep. Beep-beep”. Through the night, I woke once. The leaves in the ceiling were an eerie shade of white. Senses blunted, I felt a pressure on my thorax, high-pitched humming from what was assuredly the chansey. The shapes in the leaves shifted, like noise on an analog television. A pressure on my thorax was holding me down. The forest of shifting leaves rolling haphazardly filled my senses, muted whirring vibrations filled from the inside. A warbling thrum of air flowing through roots in the caves in the ceiling, bringing with them motionless, cold leaves that slid over my abdomen, chilling me. I wasn’t dead yet, at least. Maybe they didn’t know I had also attacked those kids just that morning.

They sure as hell knew about the razor leaf I'd flung and hit the police officer-lady with. Maybe Lanky had rescued me and taken me out to a new part of the forest. The sun and sky are a silver sheen of leaves shifting around in dots of white. I tried to turn, but the will in my muscles, the energy, just wasn’t there. I tried to move my left arm. It—t wasn’t responding, either. Vision faded back to black, accented by the shifting noise of the leaves. I drifted back asleep, thinking of the forest I had left behind.

When I finally woke up, it was with a great headache, I was being stared at. Not by a human. A grump. Swadloon. Why now? No way. There is no way.

They were so short, so stubby. If they had—they’d all have been eaten by bir—my stomach in my abdomen curled. How many of them followed me from the nest? No, this one has to be different. I didn’t even know. How would I have known? Sewaddle. Swadloon. Me. Leafinny. No. Lea—Leav—. The grump continued to stare, snuggled up in its leaf, enjoying the sunlight from the window.

Sewaddle. Swadloon. Leavanny.

I stood up. And staggered. The world spun. The vibrations of the world were mute. I was. I fell into the chain-link barrier separating me from the swadloon’s kennel. I inspected my body, shoving my left arm into the links, facing a window that was recessed into the concrete, cinder block walls. A beep. A click. A lamp above flipped on, immediately flooding my chamber with warm light, accented with a deep purple, reminiscent of the midday sun.

Flinching, I fell back on my abdomen. A door opened. I turned towards the sound, muffled as it was. In came the nurse. She had long, dark blue hair, a short-sleeve smock, and her left arm was covered in tattoos. Emanating a bowl from her left hand, I could taste the smell of the berries in the air. Extra-sweet. Chansey had followed behind her.

“Eaavv,” I tried to say. The nurse and the chansey just looked at me, before continuing closer to my chain-link kennel. I continued to sit. I wasn’t going to die. Not here, anyway. And not to this wonderful nurse. She rolled a berry through the cage. It wasn’t a huge cell, but I was a good four feet away from the entrance, regardless.

I reached out with my right arm, poked the berry with the very end, testing for pain. Then, I speared the berry and put it in my mouth. It hit my tongue, sweet, sugary, saccharine melting in my mouth like eating a piece of cotton candy. Without teeth, the berries were mashed where the jawline met. I pushed it around with my tongue, to the semi-flat ridges, I mashed pressing it until it was pulped, then swallowed. Ready for another, I looked at the girl, more saliva already building up.

Slowly, and with a sigh, she opens the door, chansey following her in. She sits down on the ground across from me. I scoot a foot closer. This close, I could see. Her eyes were green. She had a small tattoo beside her ear. A star of a kind. Wait. Not just any star. Was that a Jirachi tattoo?

Her face tightened, raising her hand, she pulled her hair over her ear, covering the tattoo with her streaks of dark, yet reflective blue. She looked to her right, muttering. Chansey sat down, taking a spot to my left. The nurse lady then looked at me. She said a word. Chansey stood up. She looked at me. She repeated the word. “Up.” I clicked my tongue in dissatisfaction, realizing what she wanted me to do.

I just wanted the food. I was not a pet. And I was not about to let myself be one. I'm a pokemon. Not a dog. She was looking at me, her mouth shifted into a frown. I looked down. I was rubbing my left forearm raw with the edges of the sheared leaf from yesterday night’s disastrous discombobulationsdecombobulations. Her face changed. She scooted closer, her eyes wet. What? One by one, she talked to me, feeding me berry after berry by hand, as chansey watched.

Eventually, after giving me the last of the berries in the bowl, she stood up, leaving swadloon and I with our thoughts, some bowls of water, the sunlamp in the ceiling soothing my fears. At one point, the nurse returned, chansey in tow, with a delivery of some large, fresh leaves, and left them in a pile at the entrance of the chain-link cell.

They weren’t the best leaves, but they were fresh, so they would have to do. Without any other interruptions than the smell and vibrations of people coming and going, I got started. Slicing along the hard tile was actually harder than I’d expected. Rolling my left blade along the leaves, it was closer to a knife chop than a slice, but it would work. My right arm didn’t even throb, wasn’t even sore, and I could move it. What kind of technology did they have?

It was hard to imagine a real treatment that could so thoroughly repair a busted arm. It had been waving around like a wet noodle at the end of a stick, as if I’d pressed out all the contents inside like a bottle of tooth—nope. Not continuing that line of thought. The rhythm of the fan, the friendly little swadloon just watching as I worked, sipping on a water drip that hung off its kennel.

The sun lamp above, its constant warmth bearing down, the sun had entered and left the window by the time I’d finished patching up the missing half of my arm-blade. As I wrapped up, I took my seat in the back corner, closest to the swadloon. Completing the handiwork, I hummed in satisfaction.

There were some extra leaves, they’d brought way too many. I looked at the swadloon. I looked back down at the leaves. My antennae, even pulled close to my head, were pulled off way too easily by the rufflet. I’m a bug. And I would probably wind up against more birds. It wouldn’t be enough leaves to make a whole set of armor, but… A helmet would probably suffice, at least enough to let me retreat.

Pulling the leaves behind my head down, I took the newly sewn-together leaves, and, using the silk as glue, attached the leaves, in three strips, one down the center, and one down each side. It took some adjustments of the leaves, but eventually, with practice, a pull of the muscles on my head, a quick thwap and my antennae were under the leaves.

This is going to be a pain to take on and off.

I let the three attachments fling out, following the headleaf’s preferred shape.

Clicking my tongue in satisfaction, I turned to the remaining leaves and began to refill on the missing razors. With that done, it would be time to plan our escape.

--- Interlude --​

“You can do it, Avery,” the nurse said to herself, drips of eyeliner streaking in the pokecenter mirror. Pulling up a wet paper towel out of the sink, she dabbed the streaking lines, cleaning the worst of the mess. Avery had already put off wearing most makeup since beginning her nurse rotations at Anville. The eyeliner was the one thing she’d been holding out on, and seeing the Leavanny, still anxious, even away from any birds, and with a swadloon keeping it company? Tears were flowing again, threatening to smear more.

Time to ditch the liner, Arceus, I’m a mess, she thought to herself.

Getting the last of the new streaks off her face, she looked at her hair. Pulling her head close, it looked… fine. Dyed blue, her more natural dirty blonde was beginning to poke from the roots again. Another week or two, and she’d need to get it redone. Or get the gene mod. Then her hair wouldn’t need to be done again. That shit costs.

A nurse at a pokecenter wouldn't make nearly enough to afford it. At least not until after she received her independent nursing certificate. Then she could open her own pokecenter. Castelia seemed like a nice place. It would get her out of the Anville burghs, at least. Returning to Nuvema and living at home as she got her own center off the ground was another option, but her mom didn’t have time for anyone but Juniper and the crazy professor’s endless projects and helping the smiling old man's daughter prepare to take over the family research facilities.

Taking a deep breath, “just a few more months and this is all over,” she told herself, standing up and throwing the towel into the trash. Some kids went on adventures. Avery chose pokemon care. She walked out of the, back into the lobby of the one-nurse center, stepping around the floor, wet from mopping up the ichor the Leavanny had dripped in the hallway in her panic. She glanced at the clock—seven P.M. Just two more hours left in the shift. An old man on a bike was pulling in.

“Aah-shoo, aaahh-shooo.” Chansey had taken her spot on her little bed, belly going up and down as she breathed. Avery smiled, pulling her hair back and wrapping it into a ponytail with a stretch band. She couldn’t wait to close up shop and have the next day off. Even for a town with few trainers in it, the nursing programme still required rigorous schedules from their nurses. The kid had said he’d be back for the Leavanny. She smirked, he was in for a treat if he really was serious about adopting it.

Brown hair, probably two meters in height, an old man, in his sixties walked in. “Hey nurse,” he said to the nurse.

“Hello, how can I help you? Do your pokemon need any healing?” Avery asked, using her high-pitched nurse-voice, giving the engraved nurse-smile.

He shook his head, an air of confidence about the man. “No thanks, ma’am,” he said, taking a quick pause, as if to consider his next words.

“I just got back with quat the haul, and was waunderin’ if ya could point me in the right direcshun o’ what ta do with ‘em."

“If you need to store pokemon, then I can certainly help you navigate the PC storage interface and get your pokemon sent to the right caretakers,” nurse Avery said.

He smiled again, taking off his brown backpack. Avery raised her eyebrow. “Naw, I heard a Leavarnny was cousin’ a ruckus in town from the rangers-poleece cawmms yesterday, and while I dunno what possessed the bugs ta’ leave the farrest far the city, I have sumthin’ y’all ar gunna be interested in.”

He opened his bag, and Avery pulled out a tray for holding Pokeballs. Setting the tray on the lobby countertop, the man lifted his pack up and gently let the balls roll out, as Avery guided them into their slots.

Avery gasped. Nine! “This is quite the haul, do you have license to ca—” Nine poke balls had come out.

He shook his head. “This was a rescue,” he said.

“What?” she asked, losing her nurse-voice, nurse-smile and nurse-posture.

“I caught ‘em just outside the trainyard, right be-farr gettin’ eaten by sum trubbish.”

“I mean—we do have a leavanny that went through quite the scare the other day, but-” she paused, taking a deep breath.

"You mean?” she asked. The man nodded, his wrinkly face turning thoughtful. The guy was quite tan and fit for someone who seemed to be in their sixties.

“Yup. This here’s nine swadloon. I reckon’ they were followin’ her.” He said, his face thoughtful.

Nurse Avery groaned internally, her next day off seeming quite a bit further away than she'd expected. They had followed the Leavanny all the way from the forest.

I wasn’t trained for this.

 

[zoru22]

~~~ Chapter 8 - Followed ~~~​

We challenge you to reach out to the great Cress and great Rai, to learn from the messages they have to share. Only they guided ancient humans of the old days, and only they are actively guiding humanity during even these strangest of days.

- Porter, member of The United And Everlasting Dreamwalkers Of Cresselia And Darkrai​

~~~​

The sun in the window had long left. The sky was turning dark. The sunlamp above seemed to be either remote controlled or on a timer. I could feel the vibrational murmurs of people talking in the other room. Not that it mattered. Swadloon and I were busting out that night. The pull of freedom was too strong. The smell, the smell of friends and safety called, I could taste it. The plan was simple: there didn’t seem to be much security in this place, and even if they had cameras, the nurse seemed to be the only one running the show. The room we were in was pretty small; the chain links didn’t go up to the ceiling. The only trick was going to be to get the swadloon's cage open.

My little cage was wide enough that two of me could probably lay down lengthwise without touching. The kennel wasn’t deep, though. A bit deeper than I was tall, probably only six feet. I was just short. I’d used a leftover leaf, adding a hook to the tips of my blades. A few more hours and I would be ready to ditch this place.

I didn’t expect the pokecenter to have much means to restrain me or keep me around, so I expected busting out to be as simple as getting to, and then through, the front door. The only real threat I could think of is the chance the nurse had a pokemon other than chansey. If chansey sang again, that would be a problem, but that was the only real impediment I could think of. Without ears to plug, the best I could hope for was that my makeshift helmet might muffle the antennae enough to isolate me from the sounds.

When the sky out the window was pitch black, it was time. I had given the hook attachments and the new arm-blade enough time to seal up and harden. It wouldn’t be the worst thing to wait until the next morning, but…

“Go, leavanny! Get your ass pounded by blaziken's flame wheel!”

The chain-link vibrated as I rubbed my arms against it. The idea of getting adopted and forced to grind my life away in battle after battle? About as appealing as being an appetizer. What if it was a pidgeot? A bird that large could probably swallow me whole.

Do pidgeot have gizzards? How big would the rocks be? I shivered, from my abdomen to my head.

I shook myself again, anxious of the dull murmur of humans talking in the other room. Surprise would be on my side. The police-people probably had problems of their own in a city like this, one that was probably turning from an industrial center into a town trying to maintain relevance. I inserted the hook on my right arm into the link, tested the weight with a slight tug. It didn’t give. I clicked in satisfaction. Link by link, I climbed up. I hit the top. What do they do with the pokemon they know could climb over the cage walls? Perhaps this was all they could afford?

The links at the top were slightly barbed. I only had about the length of my forearm between them and the ceiling. With my head above the fence, I inverted my left arm’s hook and pushed down. Then, holding my torso high and my abdomen up so it brushed against the ceiling, I hooked my right arm down on the other side, unhooked my left, pulling my right leg down into the links, only making a slight “ching” sound as the chain-links vibrated from my acrobatics. With my legs in place and holding my height, I unhooked my right arm, twisting it into a favorable position, hooking myself to the adjacent kennels.

The voices were getting more frequent, and a bit louder. If I wanted to keep the advantage of surprise, I needed to hurry. Climbing down from the top of their smaller kennels until I was eye-level with the grump, I looked at the mechanism keeping the gate on the little swadloon’s kennel. “Aaaad,” it moaned, my face in its. It was about the size of my head, snug in its leaf. Using my mouth, I hooked the spring mechanism, pushed the two prongs together, and the cage door came open. The smell from the swadloon wasn’t familiar. It hopped onto my head without a fuss and didn’t seem to care.

Dropping us to the floor, sliding the snug bug in a leaf rug into my arm, we were ready. The door handles in this building were all pretty low. If they had locks, they weren’t visible. If they could heal my mangled arm overnight, who’s to say there weren’t widely-available DNA scanner locks? Approaching the door with swadloon in tow, I grabbed the door handle, pulled it down slowly, minimizing the vibrations (and therefore noise) from it as much as possible. With a light click, I pull the door open. Back in the hallway, across from the room where I'd failed my last attempt at escape. Breaking a window would probably mean pursuers, so it was going to have to remain a last resort.

Swadloon pulled itself closer to my leg, sitting under the leaf-shadow of my abdomen. I walked forward, and it marched alongside, its little legs carrying it surprisingly quickly for how much shorter it was than me. How much longer until it evolves? Thoughts for later. We walked forward, toward the voices, towards our friends. No. Wait. I shook my head. Towards freedom, we walked. The rhythmic beats of a napping chansey didn’t seem too concerned about what was going on, which was comforting.

We hit the door. I picked up the swadloon in my left arm, holding it against my thorax as it sat flatly against the blade, which faced out. I opened the door. The voices stopped. Four people turned to look: The tall old friend I’d passed the other day. The nurse-friend who’d healed me. Lanky, the friend I’d just met. And some intruder dressed in a green striped shirt and beige pants. From my vantage point, I was too short to see the counter, but there was an empty bag on the ground near the tall old friend. I clicked my jaws in annoyance. This was supposed to be a quiet escape.

Sorry, friends. But swadloon and I are leaving~.

As we marched our way out, the guy in beige said something, but not to me. At least, I couldn’t tell, because what was I going to do? All I could hear were tones and smells, not words. Stealing the swadloon, I left the pokecenter. And was greeted with…a vending machine, a bike rack, and a dumpster. Not even a road. Another trail. This city was shit. Clicking my tongue, parking under a tree in the unkempt grass surrounding the building, swadly and I sat down.

What was I supposed to do? I stared up at the sky and clicked my tongue in frustration. What do the pokemon gods want from me? The lethargy of night was quickly setting in. Nor had I a goal bigger than “I need to get out of here”. But now that I was out… Why did I leave the forest anyway? A hint of a sweet aroma had begun filtering to my antennae and then to my tongue. This city sucked. “Eeellleeee,” I moaned, looking at swadly as he sat, staring at the night sky, lit with the afterglow of the city. I needed a better vantage point, and the tree wasn’t tall enough. Using my hooks, I approached a rain spout and climbed up. The last little bit of getting onto the roof was awkward, but with a little swing of gymnastics onto the overhang, a pull, I crawled on top. From there, I climbed to the highest spot and looked around. I could feel the murmurs of the people inside talking. One person had a noticeable drawl.

“Aaiieee,” I groaned again. Blotched colors and lights. The front door opened and swadly walked back into the light. Everyone smells safe enough, I guess. Though the one new guy, I couldn’t trust him. Couldn’t put my claw on why, though. Not even the smears of smokestacks were visible, though they might have been blinking red lights, like you'd put up to warn pilots when they were flying low. The smell just felt suspicious. Not a friend. The city to the north, and other lights off in the distance to the southeast. Sewaddle and swadloon were Unova, right? And if I wanted to live in the city? Unova had a couple. I’d need to travel east.

The old man was whistling. I could taste the berries in the air. But now that I was outside, the energy for travel though, the thought of walking cross country? I'd already walked for two days and experienced more trauma than I'd had in the whole month I'd had since waking up as a Leavanny! And the berries from humans were so much better tasting than the ones that came from from foraging. All the pokemon that I’d have to fight along the way? I clicked my jaw in dissatisfaction, saliva filling my mouth. I had to get a berry, so I descended from my perch on top of the roof, clicking in anticipation. At the edge, it was probably a thirty-foot drop. I jumped down, holding my arms out, using them to guide my fall, the air rushing past as I fell buffeting me from gravity. With a thud, I landed on a piece of grass.

The new guy was holding swadly, feeding him a berry. If swadly liked him, then I guess I could trust him too. Fighting the urge to pick up a pack of leaves off the tree, I approached the man, clicking my jaw to announce my arrival. With a glance up at me, tossed me a berry with good aim. Lanky came out, holding another swadloon. And the nurse. The old guy had come out too, but grabbed a bike and waved at us as we all sat down in a circle.

As he rode away, I basked in our little square, nurse across from me, Lanky to my left, and beige on my right, who took up most of the talking. I recognized the swadloon and their smell. They HAD followed me. I rubbed my arms together. Where were the others? The guy tossed me another berry. The smell was stronger than just these three swadloon, so they had to be nearby. Perhaps they were in pokeballs?

I sat outside in front of the building, each of the humans saying something and holding a swadloon in their arms, feeding them a berry before tossing one to me one every so often.

It felt good to be around friends.

 

[zoru22]

~~~ Chapter 9 - Making the Clasp ~~~​

While sitting down, basking in the smell of the sweet berries—which the berries at the nest did not smell quite so nice— and three swadloons, I busied myself a bit more. Lanky looked at me as the nurse and the old guy continued to have their own short exchanges.

We weren’t far from the trees at the side of the building, so there were a bunch of leaves around. While they talked, I decided to look around for some leaves, and continue work on my helmet. If I was going to be around humans more frequently, I’d probably get into more and more dangerous fights.

The best thing I could think of right then— short of meeting a manaphy and being a guinea-pig for their power being heart-swapped and trading bodies with mewtwo or a similar-tier pokemon, provided they consented— was to build a personal set of armor. I’d be trading some speed for the extra durability, but if I did it right, the hardened leaves should take the brunt of some of the nastier pokemon.

I gathered up a small set of leaves, and began patching them together into a kind of clasp. It would begin around my neck area and hold the helmet in place. I’d lose the use of the silk and probably any biting attacks. Lanky was waving a berry at me. He tossed it. I caught it, pulping it before swallowing. My string/silk wasn’t the most useful against the kind of opponent this armor was being crafted for.

I considered the speed loss for a moment.

Against birds? I’d probably lose against them every time, even under the light of the summer sun. Any strong-enough fire-type would probably be able to burn away most of the leaves with a few blasts. A smart opponent would probably try to zone me.

Two-to-three blasts would keep me in one spot. Prime for a final move. If I didn’t turn into a windsail, the armor would probably work. My abdomen would have to have slots on it to release heat, even if I did decide it needed to be completely covered.

Well, if leaves gave me a speed boost during sunlight, then perhaps more leaves meant more speed? I thought of how I looked in the mirror the other day, overlaying that image with way too many leaves. Like a ball-gown, almost. That would be a speed impediment. The nurse tossed me a berry.

The leaves around weren’t exactly fresh. They would do for a little experimentation, though. Making the armor felt like the right thing to do.

~~~​

“Don’t worry about it, Ave,” Professor Cedric Juniper said, offering the girl a smile. “When I gave you the offer of some personal help when you needed it, I meant it.” He paused, taking a short breath. “And, of course, some field study and observation of pokemon behavior always bests the lab. We’re always looking for a new case study.”

The girl didn’t say anything in response. The nurses worked long hours without much reward, and Avery was no different. “It takes a lot of love to care for pokemon like this,” he told her. “And while every species is different and has different needs, bugs are a special case. I’m glad you called your mom before the rangers. We’ve been studying pokemon migrations the last few years.”

“Thank you, professor,” Avery said, tossing another berry to the leavanny. The bug had taken to working with the leaves on the ground, chopping and slicing them up, occasionally spitting out some silk and gluing them together.

The professor turned to the boy. “How old are you, boy?” he asked.

“I’m sixteen, about to turn seventeen,” the teen responded, maintaining the best formality they could in the presence of Cedric Juniper, the region's national professor and legend.

“And your name?”

“Artemus, sir.”

The professor paused, then considered, holding his iconic smile. “And you’re a fan of bugs? That why you volunteered to help Avery here over the next few days?” The man knew he was known to be a hardass, but when it came to care for animals and people he'd respected, there were few who would go further. At least, that's what the enigma of professor Juniper had built.

Artemus nodded. “Yes. The leavanny saved me from having to give up my lunch to some neighborhood kids trying to steal it—" the teen paused, taking a breath, closing his eyes a bit—"and also I am responsible for not following her into the city. And letting her get hurt.” The professor's smile didn't fade at the last line.

People seemed to be far more honest in his presence than they were, even in front of the police. Admitting guilt to him was no sign of dependability, even if it meant the individual still cared about the professor's status. He turned away from the kid, to Nurse Avery, his face lighting up under the glow of the pokecenter's front sign.

“Neither of you know of any news from the forest, outside of town, about why the bugs would leave their nest?” the professor asked.

Of course, he had general ideas about why a bug-type pokemon would leave her nest. Outside interference—from humans, predator migrations, mass outbreak, a dispute between two leavannies; however few ended with so many swadloons following them, and even less would lead the pokemon to march right into a town’s center.

If it had been a toxic-type such as a grimer or muk or trubbish—which were known by him and the rest of the region to be spilling out of Anville town's railyards into the local ecosystem, he'd have expected them to have been pushed north or straight south, instead. There were always strange things that had happened, though.

As Artemus shook his head, Avery spoke up. “We don’t know why our little bug-girl here would come down from the forest. The only new thing that I know that was happening about that area,” she said, “is that Miles and his grand-daughter, Skyla, had passed through a couple times in the last few weeks."

The professor tossed the swadloon a berry of his own as the blue-haired nurse continued.

"They stopped here after a break a few days ago.” She glanced at the leavanny, watching as she folded and applied her silk to the leaves she had scrounged up. “Skyla still seemed nervous around the birds, so maybe they had to land in the woods nearby, and scared this one south? Miles said Skyla needed to be ready to take over the gym in a few years; they'd been doing longer and longer tours. But it would only be enough to spook the bug out of her nest…not drive her into the city, I don't think."

Miles, the old gym leader, was fifteen years older than Cedric himself, and though the airport leader was more active than many teens, and no slouch on the field, being in his late-mid seventies meant the gym leader was clearly getting desperate for someone that could handle caring for his own skarmory. A few more years and Cedric would cede his own labs and the bulk of the research center to his own daughter to spearhead the bulk of the research efforts. Aurea would need to make it through the Elite Four before then, however.

"Do you think she knows that humans mean food? Maybe she was a wild pokemon that a trainer released, had babies, and then left and came back to the city when some predator showed up?" Artemis asked as the three of them stared at the leavanny, stuck in her little world.

“Hmmm,” the professor intoned, feeding a berry to the swadloon in his lap, watching the leavanny, who was content to continue working the leaves around her. “There’s a lot of knock-on effects that can happen if a predator, especially one as powerful as that clan’s steel birds, make a regular tour of the area. It doesn’t explain everything, but it makes for a workable beginning theory. Did the leavanny respond to any verbal commands?” he asked Avery.

"No—aw—" the nurse flushed as she was caught mid-yawn. Cedric knew just how bad nursing shifts could get. Avery's mother, Emily, had consistently complained about the medical establishment's treatment of her daughter.

Unfortunately, the schizophrenic political attitudes of the region had caused the vetting and onboarding processes of nursing to freeze. Should they increase the rigor the medical staff went through, so less harm could happen to pokemon? Or should they increase staff so pokemon could be more readily attended to?

Nurse Avery finished her yawn. "No. She doesn't know any of the common words you'd expect from a licensed trainer who released their pokemon” 'up,' 'down,' 'stay,' etc. I tried to teach her up and down today, but—" The nurse wiped her eye, holding her other hand over her mouth as she yawned again.

Juniper pretended not to notice her fatigue. Emily, Avery's mother, was out on the ocean observing jellicent migratory patterns with his own daughter. He’d seen that same fatigue in Emily and his own assistants far too many times not to notice.

“We can’t be out here all night, as fascinated as I am with discussing our bugs’ behavior,” the professor said. “We don’t have enough data, and unfortunately…” He glanced at leavanny. “...pokemon are a bit silent on communicating exactly what they want. At least in a way humans understand, that is,” he said, his smile engraved on his face a reflection of his own will of iron.

He turned to Avery: “Go inside and start closing down the pokecenter. Artemis and I will come in before we go. I’ll make arrangements for our new friends.”

“Thank you, professor,” Avery said, bowing her head as she stood up and made to go back inside. Leavanny watched her and the swadloon leave; she hadn’t shown any of the signs of anxiety the nurse had reported earlier in the conversation. From back before she had demonstrated that she was a veritable escape artist.

The professor turned back to Artemus. ”For all we know, another leavanny kicked her from the nest, and the other swadloons followed. But that doesn’t mean we can afford to waffle here. If this leavanny’s already come to the city, we can’t just return her to the wild. You picked up the basics from school, but did you know there's more to the story than just humans meaning food?”

“I didn't,” Artemis, sitting straighter. Cedric tossed another berry at the leavanny. His handful was almost out.

“Yes, if they’re acclimated to humans, especially human cities and towns, they know that humans mean food. And a pokemon familiar with humans, but untrained can cause a bunch of bad things to happen, even in their simple search for food."

Artemus nodded.

"The bit that’s less well-known,” Cedric said, “is that since there's no limits on catching pokemon inside cities, Unova still has multiple species that are both friendly to humans and threatened, thanks to over-catching. Even ones that were relatively able to adjust to being around us.”

The kid just stared at him. “Over-catching?” he asked. The professor sighed. Artemis not being aware of over-catching was a bad sign, especially given the simmering political climate.

“There’s plenty of articles about it online. I’ll have one of my assistants send you some for more reading on the negative effects of caught pokemon and their species’ populations later.”

The leavanny had finished her project with the leaves, and was playing with the leaves on her head, pulling them down and around. The swadloon swaddled in his lap was content to sit and watch.

He made to stand up. “Are you committed to this pokemon and her swadloon, Artemis?”

“Yessir, I’ll take the best care of them I can.” the kid said, standing up as well.

The professor put the swadloon on his shoulder. “Good, then come with me,” he said, walking back inside. The leavanny watched. Cedric held out his last berry. She followed him back in. He smiled. He was already smiling, but he still smiled at the much-more-calm bug.

“Taking care of the sewaddle line takes a lot of patience and effort,” he told Artemis, looking at the leavanny’s makeshift helmet that was forming, the leavanny clasping it off and on as they walked. “One of Nature's more prolific and creative crafters. So long as they’re comfortable, anyway. You’re going to need more room to raise these bugs, at least until you can get a property of your own.”

It was bad policy to offer people a place to stay at his property by the lab in Nuvema Town, but Anville wasn’t the place to raise bugs. The police and ranger forces were already run as ragged as Avery was, just trying to keep the exploding poison population from overrunning the local forests. Nor did the professor trust that the forces would release the pokemon they did catch. One less pokemon in the wild for them, was one less they had to deal with in a future mass outbreak.

“So what do you suggest I do?” Artemis asked.

“I suggest,” the professor responded, locking the front door of the pokecenter from the inside, “that you come to Nuvema, and learn to raise bugs, and I help you become a pokemon trainer.” He looked back at the leavanny, who’d seemed content with her leaf-helmet release mechanism.

The boy's face was in shock. “We need a few more people who can learn to love the bugs,” he said. And it was true. The world did need more bug-trainers, and he couldn't be too picky. But the world needed competent bug-trainers. Ones who could actually care for the pokemon. The way the pokemon needed to be cared for. Not the way the human wanted to care for them.

Which was a big problem for pokemon trainers. Even well-bonded ones. Bugs had radically different psychologies, ways of communicating. Ways of thinking. Ways of processing information. Even psychic bugs pokemon, the ones who could operate on a semblance of human level, clearly perceived the world differently than humans.

Some seventeen year old kid who wore their heart on the sleeve? The region really couldn't afford to be too picky, even if he did want better—he had given Emily a promise to help Nurse Avery lighten her load, after all. And denying this kid the opportunity to fail wouldn't help anyone. He gave the boy a year before he'd have to surrender the pokemon. Not out of abuse, no.

Bugs were unique, and the sewaddle line were especially unique, even among bugs. Their emotional tells were completely different from other, more naturally-emotive species and types. It wasn't like most dog-like-types, where their head and face told the trainer everything they needed to know.

Leavannies relied on scent in order to tell if you were friend or foe, they rubbed their blades when anxious, and tended to imitate behaviors of their trainers, giving off an impression of stronger intelligence. And while the professor knew this, the kid needed to do his own study and research and learn this on their own.

Behind the professor's grinning mouth and eyes, he refused to do more than the absolute basics for any kids.

Artemus would need to learn to deal with how independent bugs are. Having a human there, telling her what to do? The trees in his own backyard were going to be missing half their leaves by the time the kid had this leavanny following him around. He wrote the poor trees in his front and back yard off in his mind.

No, Cedric knew. He had seen it all before. By the end of the year, the leavanny would have the kid chasing after her, and unable to handle her. Behind the man's smile, as he prepared to leave, he pulled out his pokeball, already decided on the plan, the one he used for the people he'd expected to wash out.

And he hadn't been wrong yet.

~~~​

I rubbed my claws together as they pulled out the pokeball. One swadloon, the one held by Lanky, was sucked in with a flash of red before being loaded back into the bag. Yeah, that smell was strong. The old nest-mates were still present. I wasn’t sure how many swadloons I had left behind.

My blurry vision made it hard to count the pokeballs without getting too close, but I could guess there were at least five swadloons in pokeballs, just from the strength of their scent in the air. The clanking of the balls said there could be more too, but my ability to parse sounds wasn't great, either.

The older man in beige took swadly and walked into the hallway. I followed him as he went. He made a coughing noise as he saw the cage that had been left open. Swadly went into his kennel without a fuss. I supposed it was time for me to go back into my cage; I waited back in the room as the old man forgot to open the door to mine. He turned around, made a face, then coughed a bit more, waving at me to follow.

Lanky was there in the main lobby area, Chansey eyeing us. The taste of the swadloon’s scent was still strong in the air. Lanky was wearing the backpack, water in his eyes. The nurse came in and said some stuff before the old man pulled out a pokeball of his own. Another red flash of light, and before us was something that looked like a human, but with an egg for a head instead, with what looked like red, green, and yellow buttons on its hands.

Pressure temporarily passed over my mind as the pokemon seemingly got its bearings, then turned to look at the man. I shifted next to and behind Lanky, who held a hand out towards me. I held out a claw, stepping behind his leg, peeking out at the freaky looking thing. The old man said something, grabbing Lanky’s hand, then put his own hand on the alien’s head. A quick snap, and all three of us were in another room.

I didn’t have to “know” it, but I understood what the last thing he’d said was.

“Teleport.”

 

[zoru22]

~~~ Chapter 10 - Fingers ~~~​

Among the popular conceptions of Pokemon in the media and trainers is this idea that Pokemon are limited to a maximum of two ‘types’. It is true there are clearly primary and secondary expressions of some vague categories; however there is a growing mountain of evidence pointing to the popular conceptions and categorizations being incomplete and thus becoming inadequate for understanding Pokemon domains, even outside of academic circles. One need only examine the competitive circuits to see that many pokemon can learn abilities outside of their apparent domains.

We hope that you, the reader, will grow an increasing appreciation, fondness, and awareness for the spectacular abilities these animals demonstrate even while we live our daily lives. In the first half of this book, we will be examining the common models for understanding pokemon abilities and their categorization in detail, demonstrating the deficiencies in the popular models, using a record of the competitive circuits from the last ten years. In the latter half, you, the reader, will learn some of the newer and more nuanced models that have been discussed in scientific circles and how to evaluate each for its pros and cons. By the end, we hope you will understand that there is no “one size fits all” model, and that to truly know Pokemon, you must first, know your Pokemon.

- Pokemon: The New Models for Categorizing and Classifying Abilities, a Guide for Aspiring Trainers and Enthusiasts, By Erizal Pell, PhD

~~~​

Standing in the room, my slightly leg slipped on this, more waxy and slick tile. A quick inhale of air. The flavor was… A slight headache began to pressure me in the back of my head. The hint of bleach and, was that chlorine? Feeling the taste of the air with my antennae was abrasive and sour. Not far off from licking a chlorine tablet and vapourized vinegar, the very air itself launched into an all-out assault against my tongue, agitating my antennae and stinging my tongue. I pulled my helmet down and attached the clasp, folding my prehensile antennae under their covers in the hopes of reducing the exposure to the chemicals in the air. Doing this didn’t do much. If a clean koffing and wheezing existed, it would probably breathe mustard gas.

Lanky, the Alien, the man with the egg-headed pokemon stood in this noxious room for a moment. Fluorescent lights were set into the ceiling, it was a small, unremarkable room with no windows and two wooden doors, one with a white labcoat on it. My vision restricted by my makeshift helmet, the man spoke some words, then stepped closer to the door with the coat hanging off of it, reaching out to a switch, flicking it with a click. I turned my eyes back to the alien, who simply watched me. They were clearly psychic, that much had been made blindingly obvious, yet made no communication attempt.

Air ducts hummed, followed by a motion of air, the pressure in my head grew lighter. The poison sting softened. The alien made no motions at the instant relief. The smell of the swadlies returned. What kind of inane contraption would you build in a room like this? Just. Why?

The man murmured to Lanky, who handed him the backpack, the pokeballs clinking around at every slight motion. Regardless of the alien's indifference to the clearing of the air, it was welcome for ME. The man held the backpack, their mouth was clasped shut, their face rigid and tight, lips in a slight curve. He'd asked Lanky for the backpack. The man, no, the professor took out a pokeball, then handed it to Lanky. I knew who this man was, their name momentarily escaping me. The professor reached into a little fanny pack he’d had on his waist, murmured more, handing Lanky another pokeball.

“If the Leavanny gives you any trouble, just area-51 her ass and use this to catch it,” was probably what he'd said. Just, regally. With regal poise and an unchanging, rigid body language.

The man grabbed the lab coat, moving to don it. The alien just stared, making no movement. I pulled myself closer to Lanky, away from the creature, their scent wafting in the cleaner air. The professor, presumably changing his mind, setting it back on the hook, turned to lead us through the door on the opposite side, motioning for us to follow. I tried to stay next to Lanky, slightly slipping on the tile as we walked through the short hall, the little graspers embedded in the bottom of my legs barely finding any grip in the tiny gaps between the floor tiles. Nothing good has happened in these bland, fluorescent halls since I'd become a pokemon.

The alien kept walking, following behind both Lanky and I at a leisurely pace, their egg head looming behind us. I was sliding around on the floor, keeping an eye on the alien, another on Lanky and the professor. The professor's pokemon just trot behind us. Lanky put his hand on my head, pausing in their walk in the middle of the hall, talking. The professor paused, glanced at me, practically hugging Lanky’s leg. The professor's mouth was unsealed, showing the white of some teeth.

He gave a very light, short cough. I took a breath. Even through the leaf-helmet, I could smell the synthetic on my tongue, it still stung. The professor pulled out a pokeball and tossed it lazily at the alien. In a flash of light, it was gone. Which was better? I guess? I took a breath and tasted the aftereffects of the flowing lab air. People showed their teeth when coug—Ooh. Oh no. That was a smile. I breathed in again. He had been laughing! The professor was smiling! This was the second time I’d mixed up laughing and coughing. How many other times had I missed?

Another breath. I thought of running. I thought of the swadlies. I’m a bug. I thought of the bug-nest I had left to come to a human town. I still didn’t know how many swadlies had followed me. The short month I’d lived in the nest, I never bothered to count how many there were. I took a breath. Leave them behind? Again? Can I do that to them again? Well. They seemed to do fine on their own, right? I fiddled with the clasp I’d just completed a few minutes ago, the simple release mechanism I’d built. The appeal of following humans around was a lot less interesting or appetizing now.

Unova. Professor. Nuvema. I couldn’t be certain, but I was ninety-percent sure. I didn’t remember any guy-professor. I thought the Unovan lead professor was a lady? Maybe this old guy was her assistant? At the end of the day, it didn’t matter, people followed this guy and did what he told them to.

They promised me freedom! They promised me peace! They promised me a garden! I had been betrayed! Betrayed, I say! Actually, they didn’t do any of those things. And I didn’t try to ask for them. But I don’t care! Leaves in the ceiling began to swim like static.

“The gods gave you a new life, sent you to the pokemon world.”

And the monkey’s paw curls.

“Now you’ll be battling. Until. The. Day. You. Die.” I looked down. My arms weren’t quite shaking. The taste in the air wasn’t doing any favors. The smell of the nest had long faded.

The professor left us in a room with some chairs, taking the back of swadlies with him.

I slipped, falling to the floor. Before getting up, I rubbed my arms together. I inhaled. A long strip of keratinous shell had fallen to the floor. I had to get out. I needed REAL AIR. My arm stung. I looked at the skin on the floor, then back at my arm. My blades make good impressions of potato peelers against the skin of my arm. A flash of light, and Lanky had a swadloon sitting on his lap. It looked around, opening and closing its mouth, tasting the air. Lanky looked down at the swadloon, which crawled off the chair, hopping down onto the floor, next to me. The kid’s knees were fidgeting, one bouncing up and down.

He was instead staring at the other ball.

He clicked the button.

It popped open.

Empty.

Did the pokemon universe have potatoes? I’d make a pretty great potato peeler. I got a whiff of the harsh cobalt fearanxietyanticipationexcitement that was practically oozing out of him. It being a mostly positive smell helped me calm down for a minute. I paused and took a deep breath. I am a bug.

The door was shut behind us. I clicked in distaste, pacing around. Lanky, sitting around, was fidgeting more. I couldn’t see any windows. He continued opening and closing the pokeball with a clink. The swadloon remained closed and ignored in comparison. His knees, clearly agitated, bounced up and down. I took a breath. When the old man put that labcoat on... If fate was really real, I was where I was supposed to be. I could only imagine the forces that made me a leavanny, whatever force had pulled me into the world of frozen gray after I'd died.

Where you're supposed to be is preparing for a grind! Follow your trainer to the end! Go out into the wild, fight, get beat up, get in the pokeball, get shoved in front of more wild pokemon, beat up a few more. Get back in the pokeball. Fight again. And again. And again! And eventually, you can fight in a gym! Or in a tournament, or contest!

In my past life, shit just happened. Now, when I do stuff, stuff happens back. “I’m not ready!” I complained. Lanky was looking at me. Oh shit. I'd been yammering out loud. The swadloon was fidgeting too. The smelltaste of its own anxiety wafted up. It didn’t like the smell of this place either.

I hadn’t even seen much of the world yet! A bug. The thought of constantly being shoved into a ring, getting beat up, and coming back to a pokemon center. The smell of the swadloons had been shifting, and they had been anxious. Even in their balls, they could tell the air in this place was toxic. It was unhealthy. It was alien. It was aggressive. It smelt angry. It smelled like living garbage oozing purple and yellow gas. I have to leave.

Lanky stopped paying me any mind. The air, it all tasted so wrong. The simple door we had come through, it had a knob on it. I still had the hooks I used to climb back at the poke-center. All of the doors I'd seen had knobs. If I could get outside, I could at least get out of reach. With no fingers, it meant I would not be manipulating any knobs. And Lanky had a pokeball in his hand. I took a short breath of air.

I had to get out of here. Actually. I hatched a quick plan. I paced towards the door opposite the one the professor had gone through, passing a trash bin and a small stand. Lanky said something. I glanced back at him. I held up my blade arms, pressed them against the knob, pushed my right arm up, and my left arm down, and a clang next to my head, on the wall- the ball fell into the bin. He threw too hard and missed me. “Practice your overhand throws, bitch!” I spoke, sticking my tongue out, and ran as the kid began his own perilous pursuit down the tiled, fluorescently-illuminated floors. The floor is a lot more slick than the pokecenter. I put my foot down at the end of the hallway, ready to open the door again and get back to the room we had teleported into.

Instead of stopping, I slid into the door, falling on my abdomen. “Eeeanyy,” I cried out in shock. I scrambled, trying to stand up as Lanky approached. “Yyyeeee,” I complained as the kid looked at me, water wet in his eyes again, pokeball in his hand. He tossed it at me, saying stuff in a soft tone. The words they'd used were probably something like: “If you’d just calm down, I wouldn’t have to do this to you!” With that familiar flash of red light, the world went from light and vibrant to a dull, muffled tone. I couldn’t see either. I was caught again. I managed a little movement, but nothing which pressured the ball’s release mechanism. How had I gotten out last time? I heard the clinks of the ball, more muffled voices. But I could still taste scents of both the swadloon and Lanky’s panicexcitementsanxiety mood.

I breathed again. Was I having a panic attack? I paused for a moment, then breathed in slowly, and turned inward. That was a panic attack. The synthetic air spikes the feelings of fear. If I took short breaths, that exacerbated my heart rate. The thing about being in a pokeball. The thing about being in a pokeball, it isn’t the act of being inside one. It’s what I’d be missing. If I take long breaths instead…

That first time the pokeball had, what, malfunctioned? Released me? Did I trigger a safety mechanism? Anyway, the first time I was released, I felt like it had only been a couple of minutes, but it had pretty clearly been a couple hours. But I couldn’t tell just from my thoughts and observing the world. If I took long breaths instead, the synthetic scent that remained in the air was still leaking the feelings of fear.

What if the PCs were just a pokeball teleport system and they kept you on ice the whole time? I could hear the clanking of the bag of swadloon in stasis. Their scent grew stronger for a short moment, then weaker. But this time it stayed consistent. That gross synthetic taste actually, finally went away. Eventually, the perception and feel of muffled movement ceased as well.

I liked being around swadloons, and, well, being around humans again was nice. One day, I’d be back in an actual Big City, with a human by my side, and I’d open a flower shop. That’s my plan. I’d set up and build my own greenhouse if I had to. I’d only fight to fend off fiendish fowl. I’d have a street shop. Sunflora would grow in their little pots of soil, sewaddle would deliver little packets of fertilizer to the hydrangeas. I’d prune the little bushes, and lanky would run the cash register.

I’d even make him a leaf apron. When I was done with my armor, that is. Then, I remembered the scent of that city’s air. I had had a panic attack back then, too. As a human, I had panic attacks when… I had panic attacks in places with lots of noise. Lots of people. And lots of sounds. And, well, just going about my day and doing nothing at home too, but I won’t talk about that.

If stuff got done, then, well, getting things done always felt good. Working always felt good. Being productive always felt good. If that's what they wanted from me, I would be a bug.

A busy one.

A busy bug I will be.

 

[zoru22]

~~~ Chapter 11 ~~~​

What do I want out of life? Hell if I know. My PhD? A visit from the deer god himself? I can tell you what Giratina wants though. That sweet Dialga and Palkia ass. It’s called the devil’s threeway for a reason, and it was a bit too spicy for the space and time lords. You won’t learn that in public school.

- Lyra, Hieroglyphics Major, excerpt from a Opelucid Weekly Student News Interview​

~~~​

Artemus approached the professor’s office after eating breakfast. The house was the nicest and largest one he’d ever had the opportunity to stay in, the guest bed extremely comfortable, the room filled with shelves of books dedicated to the taxonomy of pokemon and their behaviors. The house as a whole was plain, in a utilitarian way. Not dirty or unkempt. No pictures of the professor (colloquially known as the 'smiling demon') holding his vaunted trophies from his time as League champion. No pictures with his old students, not even Drayden. A painting of Arceus in the hallway to the guest bedroom. A photo of the small Juniper family—Cedric himself, his daughter Aurea, and his late wife on the wall in the kitchen. That was it.

If it weren’t for decorative flowers atop the kitchen cabinets, Artie would have thought this was a new house of a man who had just bought his first. No. Professor Cedric Juniper was as accomplished as any other regional legend. Possibly moreso, for his contributions to the region's current approach to handling pokemon, mass outbreaks, and infrastructure policies. The man’s accomplishments in the competitive circuit and guiding Unova's rangers from just the last twenty years in the history books would be pages long. But, from the man's generally stoic body language and average demeanor, Artemus suspected the professor's gravestone next to his late wife would have no marking or reference to said accomplishments. Perhaps a favorite quote.

The professor held a small soft smile, noticing the kid’s approach, closed up Opelucid University’s weekly newspaper, and put it down. The man’s smile and beard said, “Santa”; the office, house, and legacy had all said, “try and impress me”. Artie moved, stepping into the office. Behind Professor Juniper, on the one shelf not occupied with various tomes of books on pokemon, was on one side, a trophy. From forty years ago, indicating his championship over the old champion of unova from that era. A metallic, green-and-yellow rock sat on the other, shimmering in the light of the morning sun.

Artemus was trying to control his nervous excitement at the opportunity before him, intimidated despite the smile etched into the man’s face. “You said you wanted to see me after breakfast, professor?” Artemus asked, eyes not able to meet Juniper’s penetrating gaze. A reporter had once asked the man why he smiled so much, if he was so serious under the hood. Artie’s heart pounded in his chest, the old man looking him in the eyes, staring the teen down. He’d told the lady, “Because it scares the kids if I don’t.” She’d nervously laughed. No one knew if it was a joke.

“Yes. I have something I want to give you, Artemis.” Artie’s heart quickened, pounding in his chest. “But first I need you to understand, kid.” The smile dropped for a moment. “That I am putting my reputation on you. Even more than I do for the younger ones I endorse as trainers. Do you understand that?” The smile returned.

“I do, Professor,” Artemis said.

“Good,” the professor said. “Signing her endorsement of you as a trainer, Avery is also putting her future reputation as a nurse on the line for you, as well.”

Artie gulped. He’d heard of nurses losing licenses for abusing trainer endorsement.

“Are you absolutely certain you’re still committed to taking care of these pokemon?” The professor’s smile always said levity. The lasers in his eyes bore into the boy’s soul.

The boy nodded.

“And?” Cedric Juniper asked.

“Yes, yes—sir. I want to learn to care for Pokemon. I’ll treat them like family!”

“That’s damn right,” the man responded, eyes unblinking, smile held and yet unmoving. After a moment, the professor broke the soul-searing stare. Artie sagged, his shoulders and body slightly slumping. He hadn’t been invited to sit. So he stood. The accomplished old man turned in his chair, bending over. When he sat up straight again, he set a box up on the desk.

Artie’s heart shot up into his throat, his eyes examining the cardboard box. The professor’s smile held, the wrinkles on his face etching ever deeper, the impression of that semi-permanent grin. Artie shivered; he could feel the hair on the back of his neck stand on end, goosebumps on his arms rising.

“Then, with that promise,” the professor said, then paused. “With that promise then, I’m giving you an opportunity—” Artie tried to hold in his smile. He’d not even received the gift yet, but he had an idea of what was in it. “—and a bit of an apology.” The kid’s heart dropped again, but the smile still threatened to creep out.

Cedric Juniper returned to staring Artie in the eyes again, weighing and measuring the soul with that disconcerting mismatch of the sealed smile and the eyes, their separate tones telling their own separate stories. "I don’t have time for tutoring a kid from the burghs. I can’t—and I don't, and I won't—pick random shits off the street, turning them into champions. Most don’t have what it takes to do that or get into the sciences.” He held that grin as he motioned towards the box. The smile was warm. “And I’m a bit too old to go walking around the region anymore.” The man shook his head, holding the smile. "You’re not an outlier. You don’t have guts or gusto to be a champion, either. I expect you to wash out before you've been a trainer for even a year." Artie frowned, as professor Juniper paused, sighing.

"But I made a promise to Avery and her mother. And I’m a man of my word. This box has items that will get you started." He shoved the box across the desk, over to Artie. The teen picked up the pox, opening it up, everything inside was jumbled, thrown together haphazardly, and worn. Art's eyes widened as he sifted through the mismash of old equipment, pulling out a worn, brown leather belt, slots for eight pokeballs, followed by a pokedex. The remains of a bygone era. He set it back into the box.

The Professor continued. “My endorsement is only a formality. I’m pulling strings just to get your license exam on short notice, just based on this promise I made to Avery when her own mother was in college. Do you understand?” Artemus almost expected him to finish with “and because of that, you mean nothing to me,” but the professor didn’t have any need to actually say that.

Artie nodded. "Yessir."

"You’re not an official intern or fully-endorsed trainer, not even a kid that shows promise from grade school. You will have no research assignment. Right now, you're just a kid who got goddamn lucky." The professor leaned forward. Art stepped back into the wall. “Until you get your second badge, and I'm wholly serious about this: anyone that asks who your primary endorser is, you either don’t tell them, or you tell them Nurse Avery Abbot is. I will reject my endorsement if you fuck it up, and you'll be on your ass. Got it?”

“Yes, sir.”

The man’s eyes lightened again, matching the stone smile. “With that out of the way, I managed to scrounge up some extra equipment that wasn’t being used. The tech is older, but for the most part, this is the same kit I give to the kids who go through the normal endorsement channels and get starters. It’s nothing special, but don’t lose it, because I’m not buying you a new one. It’s also your license for being a pokemon trainer. If something happens, you’ll have to sit out of the competitive circuit until a new one arrives.” Artie breathed, the man’s pressure letting off.

”You’ll probably want a new pokedex as soon as you’ve earned enough money to buy one, regardless. I’ve already sent the endorsements to the city. Your license exam will be in a couple of weeks once Town Hall approves.” The professor paused for a moment. Even under this political climate, even with the consistent cultural pressures for pokemon's rights making it more difficult to abbreviate the examination and approval process, the man seemed confident that the question was “when”, not “if”, Artie’s license would be approved.

The professor's public opinion alone could move mountains. What were a few questions about animal rights? Even so, Artie considered, the power he yields is probably why he doesn’t give his opinion out in public, he thought, picking up the box, his eyes welling up—whether from the weight of the burden or with gratitude or stress, he did not know. Once more, he picked up the box, pulling out the slotted belt with slots for eight pokeballs.

The smile was warm. The professor continued the business, the feigned ignorance of Artie’s emotional state. "It’s imperative you reach a positive flow with your leavanny and swadloon. They need to be obeying basic commands by exam day. You need to be comfortable around them, the leavanny needs to listen to you. I'm giving you the bare minimum resources for success, boy. I'm not going to lecture you on proper pokemon care. You only have a couple weeks or I will withdraw this endorsement and ship you right back to the Anville wastes." It was a warm smile. In the same way that a smile carved into black granite was warm on a winter day in the middle of an icy blizzard, spawned from one of Kyurem's mythical rampages decades before. The kind of smile that could freeze a frosmoth.

Artie wiped his eyes, taking a breath, working to regain composure. “You’ll take care of the other swadloon?” A granite smile that held, no matter how the elements slid over it.

The professor shook his head. “No. Our research is mostly done in the field. The lab here isn’t Oaks’. And we’re already keeping more than enough pokemon for my assistants to manage.”

Artie wiped his eyes again. “Then what do I do?” The growing concerns of animal rights in the region over the last few years had been putting a lot of scrutiny on trainers and catching.

The professor sighed. “Take leavanny and the swadloon from last night. I have a friend at Castelia gym. I’ll arrange to have them kept there and registered under my name until you’ve passed a few gym trials and shown dependability.”

“Thank you, Professor Juniper,” Artie said, bowing. “I can’t thank you enough. I’ll be sure to make Unova proud!”

“Yeah yeah,” the professor said, waving his hands dismissively. “You and that leavanny have a lot of practice ahead before you can get your trainer’s license. I’m fifty-fifty on if it’ll listen to you before the exam. From here forward, I expect you to treat your pokemon—the Leavanny in particular—like a true trainer. This morning’s morning test was a failure,” the professor said.

“Test?” Artemus asked, gulping.

”Want to be treated like a trainer? Act like one. Good trainers do not eat until their pokemon do. Get them food when I leave. Learn to use your pokedex. There are a few trees in the backyard, and by Groudon's rumblings, work on your throwing arm."

Artemus practically gasped. “On the leavanny? It already stares at pokeballs when they’re in sight!” A flash—the smile disappeared from the professor’s face. Artie felt like he’d just slapped the stoic old man.

The smile returned again. "Of course not, damnit. Use your head," he corrected. "Rapid catch-release like that is absolutely animal abuse, and if anyone ever reports you going that or other common trainer abuses, I will revoke my endorsement! No. There are tennis balls and other things in the garage you can use. Come along now,” the professor said, standing up from his desk.

Artie nodded. He held the box, cradling it like a baby, staring at the mishmash of contents thrown inside it, protecting himself from penetrating eyes. A second-generation Unovan pokedex utility tablet, a backpack, an old emergency phone, and a couple of empty pokeballs. The latest ‘dexes were in their eighth generation by now, but even first-gen dexes cost upwards of a thousand dollars, where the eighth generations could be ten times that cost. Many people saved their small pieces of their national income for years just to buy one of the older variants. And they proved out. Built and over-engineered to match the most strenuous situations, they'd been dredged from the bottoms of lakes and taken hits the vast bits of consumer waste tech could not, they were expensive for good reason.

Professor Juniper and Artemus both glanced at the clock. 8:27 am. Cedric shuffled the folded-up university newspaper and a few others on his desk into his pack.

Like a kid who’d just received that one video game they had been wanting on Christmas morning, Artie’s eyes began watering again. Like that quiet kid at school who couldn’t quite handle their excitement at winning the class bingo. Back in grade school, there was a joke he’d learned about pokedexes:

A bunch of rangers were out on a mountain, trying to investigate the angry rumblings of some migrating dragon-types. One ranger lady had been hit in the chest by an angry dragonite’s hyper beam. The other rangers, defeated and mourning, ran back to camp to regroup, leaving their fallen companion on the mountain. Later that night, as the rangers were packing up to leave with their tails tucked, they heard a rustling, as their companion walked in, a huge hole in her vest. The other rangers were astonished at her survival. Then, the lady pulls out a pokedex from her pocket, and says: “Nothing, and I mean nothing, gets through the type guides contained inside.”

“Hey,” the professor said as he packed up, snapping Artemus out of his reverie. “I get it. This is a dream come true for you, Artemis, but don’t get me wrong. I’m doing this because I made a promise, and we need more caretakers of bugs.” Artie stood up straighter. “You have to take this seriously. Avery and I are entrusting you with the lives of a bunch of amazing animals, and we’re under tight time constraints. You might be a guest in this house for the next few weeks, but you’re going to have to work hard. If you can’t handle it or I think you’re slacking off, you can go back to Anville.”

Juniper repeated his earlier interrogative question. “So I’m going to ask you again, boy. Are you willing to take this on, or are you going to wind up with your head in the clouds all the time?”

The stone-faced smile bore into Artemis, and he tried to meet the professor’s drilling eyes. “I’ll do my best, professor,” Artemus said, and he looked away.

“And if your best isn’t good enough?”

“Then you’ll have to find someone else?” Artie asked.

The smile flashed to a thoughtful look, Artie’s heart dropped. The smile swapped back. “That much is obvious, kid. But I expect you to succeed. Don’t get your head stuck in the clouds just because you had a roll of good luck. Feed your two new pokemon, do some practice, read up on the exam, then come to the lab around three P.M..”

“Yes, sir!” Artemus exclaimed.

The professor strode out of the office, pulling a strap of the case over his shoulder, heading towards the door to the garage.

“Come with me,” he said, walking through the kitchen into a hallway, where at the end of it was a door to a garage. “Your first assignment: If the Leavanny tries to run away, stop it without using a pokeball.” He hit the garage door opener. A silent whirring of the machine and the tin door began to creak as it raised off the cement.

“What if it attacks someone? And for how long?” Artemus asked. The professor took a helmet. His shirt and pants had leather elbow patches, so he probably didn’t need elbow pads, the kid figured.

“Don’t let it attack anyone. And as for how long…” A clip of the helmet. Juniper grabbed his bike, pulling it up and kicking up the bike stand. “... how many years do you think leavanny live for?” He threw one leg over the seat. “Close the door to the garage after I leave,” he instructed. “You need to learn how to get it under control or it will never follow you into battle, competitive or otherwise. Pokemon are smart and strong, but they’re still just that: pokemon. Animals. You need to understand her, because if you don’t understand her, she’ll figure you out first. The ancients managed to make it work without pokeballs, kid.”

Watching the professor leave, Artie had a sour pit in his stomach. I have to work on my aim, so I can get the leavanny to return to the pokeball, but I’m also not allowed to use pokeballs?

He looked back down, staring at the box of stuff. The sourness fast forgotten. He disagreed with the professor’s attitude, but there could be some wisdom in there somewhere. He pulled the two pokeballs out of his pocket and attached them to the belt. If he wants me to treat the bugs like family, I can do that. Artemus smiled, putting a bottle of tennis balls in the box, heading back outside to the backyard.

He took a deep breath, pulling leavanny’s pokeball off. He considered the opportunity before him, pressing the button on the ball, enlarging it. The thought of being stuck in Anville city pervaded his fear. He thought of the opportunities before him: he could become a ranger, breeder, researcher… He could do some rounds on the competitive circuits and start a business with the money.

He was out of Anville.

Artemus released the leavanny, which stood, glancing around, clearly confused. The kid pulled it into his arms, giving it a big hug before it could run away, and cried into its leaves.

 

[zoru22]

~~~ Chapter 12 - Cabinets ~~~​

Sorry, readers! The university would like to issue this announcement and correction from yesterday’s interview with Lyra:

“The University recognizes that there are multiple competing theories about the newly-unearthed ruins and the meaning of their hieroglyphs. While the popular interpretation Lyra provided is humorous, there is no consensus on the purpose of the recently-uncovered distortion realm’s chain chambers. There is an ongoing excursion planned into Mt Coronet which will hopefully uncover the meaning of these ancient ruins.

Thus, while the translation and interpretations are ongoing, we do not endorse the interpretations that they are, to quote yesterday’s article, "Giratina's BDSM fun-zone". Please direct further inquiries to our new Archaeology Media email, galacticHieroglyphs@opeluciduni.edu”

- Opelucid University Media team press release​

~~~​

Light rushed into my eyes, a slight warmth in my arms indicating the beginning of energy production from the sun filling my leaves. The grass below was green, the world was quiet, salty air indicating the ocean was near. I was in a small green field that stretched out, a tall wooden fence at the edge, more than twice my height. A couple trees were fenced in the field with me.

How long ha—“Eea!” I yelped, falling to the ground with force, Lanky’s tackle bowling me face-first into the grass. A sharp pain hit me. I cried out again, the stabbing pain of a pinched nerve as my abdomen was pressed unnaturally. Dude! At least let me wake up a little first!

The pain continued as I was locked into his grapple, rolling over. He was making small hiccup sounds. I wiggled with what little movement I could, releasing my abdomen from the pinch, allowing my abdomen to take in air again. He was snorting, stuffing his face into the leaves of my helmet, which was still clasped from the night before. The release was simple—a little wiggle and a slide of my arm, and it was undone, letting my face and eyes free once more. That tense I had been smelling in the pokeball while in that half-asleep stupor had been coming from him. I pulled air through my mouth again, I could smell the vestiges of my nest-mates.

The light feeling and a feeling of tightness along my joints told me the pressure in the air was lowering. A storm was wafting in, and soon we would be getting rain. The low production from my leaves told me all I needed to know about how much sun was available. As Lanky's arms wrapped around me, I angled my blades in so he wouldn’t get cut too much. He still got a pretty good scuff of shaved hair on one arm from the initial roll, and a slight gash on the other was beginning to leak blood. The smell of swadly wasn’t too thick, so probably just the one from last night accompanied us. I wiggled a little bit more, pushing out to get some room so I could better breathe through my mouth without clipping his clothes.

The air was clean and fresh to the taste. Despite my protests, he pulled me closer, the taste of freedom moving further away, I was gifted the scent of his body odour. Little drops of rain fell from his face. Though I couldn’t see, the patter and the salt of his tears were easily sensed, dripping down my leaves in great gobs. Sniffling his nose. He sat up, and I made to push away again, trying in eternal effort to just get room to breathe. He sat up, pulling me in the grass, setting me on his lap. I turned to face out a bit, the leaf behind my head hitting him with a light thwack. Life was just one big breathing challenge the last few days. The greyness in the sky told me I was right. We would be blessed with rain, and soon.

Loosening his grip further, Lanky began to recover what little composure he had. I adjusted, wiggling so my abdomen would sit on his thigh rather than pressed flat. My arms, my legs, they felt lethargic. Like a person who had eight hours of sleep and it wasn’t enough. I needed water and something to eat. The kid was older, and taller, than what I’d expected of someone who got their first pokemon and was going to go out training. And the neighborhood I’d found him in wasn’t the nicest. Which probably meant he wasn’t a trainer; the crying and the taste of relief as he had bowled me over told me that much. Why else would a kid who’d been stuck in a shit town be crying and holding the very first pokemon he’d ever had? Really, I could think of several reasons why, but the circumstances here didn’t line up with what the others implied.

We were facing the house. It had big windows, beautiful shades and sheens of purple reflecting off them, and beyond that was a dining room table, presumably a kitchen behind it. All only barely visible with my bad eyes. On the porch was a set of cushioned outdoor chairs, a patio table, and on that table, was a brown box. The porch had a garden hose and various other implements. As far as I could tell, the whole property was immaculate. Not a single thing seemed to be out of place—except for the brown box. Lanky grabbed my head and tried to pull it into his bosom again.

“Eaa,” I said. “No.” Lifting up my arms and pressing them into his arm, threatening to turn the blades out and cut.

His eyes opened.

“No. I’m a bug, and you can hug, but you can’t tug.” I said, the gibberish flowing out as I pushed lightly against him with both blades. Yeah, no. Not happening any more. No wrestling. I didn't have to take this treatment. I was never the huggy type as a human, nor did that change here.

I’m not a cat and I’m not a dog, all right?

He relented, loosening his arms, and letting me go. If he’d pressed the point, I hadn't planned on hurting him unless it got rough. I could only press lightly even if I wanted to, the energy just wasn’t there. I didn’t want to cut the kid up for being stupid, but he still needed to learn to respect boundaries. As he let the pressure off, saying vocalizing more of his human gibberish to me. I couldn’t bring myself to care. Awake and finally able to think for a moment, I was getting hungry and thirsty. Swadloon was, too, I was sure. Was this my life now? I looked up. The air felt slightly lighter. I examined my arm. It was slight, but it had enlarged. The layer I’d shaved off last night had healed. This was the first time I’d been hurt and actually had to heal up. Did healing the body eat energy stores? I felt a quick, sharp click resounded in the thinning air, but judging by Lanky’s continued babbling, he hadn’t noticed.

The teen turned his head to me, a moment, and the image went fractal, before coalescing back into one, the world around us wobbling. A reminder of the occasional oddities that came with being a bug. He had green eyes, light, curly brown hair, violet of the sun reflecting off the whites of his eyes. An agitated, hungry smell wafted in. The swadloon was getting hungry too. Lanky's face felt familiar. I'd seen it before, though it had been more cartoony. His mouth was moving, and he was vocalizing, but I didn't care. My mouth was dry, and the stomach in my abdomen was empty.

The air around us was slowly shifting. Lanky jumped up. “Ea!” I cried, getting launched off his lap. He yelped too. “What was that for!?” Of course, all that came out was, “Ea nea eae eey”. The kid was standing up, twirling around. The swadloon had bitten him on the backside.

Click, click, click. I clacked my jaw in amusement. It turned to look at me and walked over. I took a breath. I knew what it needed. The atmosphere was shifting, shuffling the scents of the town. Maybe I was just in a good mood? The two pokeballs lay on the ground, open at Lanky’s feet, as the kid inspected his backside. My scent indicated mine on one, the swadly's scent on the other. If I ran away, would the other pokeballs still work? Was I tagged somehow while at the Pokecenter?

The swadloon walked under my legs and waited. For a second, there was a look on his face as Lanky sized the swadly up. He said something, then looked at me, then back at the pokeballs that sat on the ground. How did it get out? Lanky moved to pick up the balls. I pulled my arms up. Arms practically vibrating, I didn’t want to fight. Lanky sighed, then began talking.

Words, words, words, was all I could think.

As a human, it had been hyperventilation. As a bug, it was fidgeting and vibrating—at least, that was what I could tell. Anxiety wasn't just the consciousness things we noticed. It was the tension in the muscles and face, the arms flexing, the legs getting ready to run. The unconscious movements, the over-tight muscles were what gave it away as a human. Here, my face was locked in an unchanging permagrin, my eyes produced no tears, never closed, never moved. My chest area was a hardened, keratinous thorax. My abdomen was somewhat softer, and more sensitive, yes, but I could not look in the windows of the house and see it tensing up. Hell, I hadn't even had a good look at myself in the mirror until the other day. As far as I could tell, there were no good cues I could use to gauge my own state. Manually breathing through my mouth only seemed to make the instinctual panics even worse.

Oddly similar to when I relied on instinct for guiding the crafting. I needed to get it under control if I was going to get busy. I manually pulled my blade-arms down, separating them after drifting up. Being around people and growing a garden, I’d need to be able to handle myself. I was hoping that the fight/flight response would be more muted, but the last couple of days gave me a stormy-weather-ahead-type forecast for that hope. My arms wobbling, I picked the swadly up, setting him on my head. I felt his weight pressing down. The sun just wasn’t there for us today, and we needed food. Clouds in the east were blocking the strongest of the rays. My antennae started to wobble in the light breeze.

“Hurry up, kid!” I clacked. I could think of worse luck to get in terms of humans to partner with as a pokemon, but even I could tell they just didn't have it all together. Lanky left the box out on the porch table, then went inside. He stood for a second, verbalizing, then waved. “Food!” I assumed he was announcing. I’d have to pay attention to the words he’d use. As we moved inside, we passed the table, the kid going on into the deeper kitchen, swadly swaddling on my head.

The box should get brought inside. I was just barely tall enough to get my head over the table, but not enough to reach. Swadly didn’t say anything, like usual. The grumps didn't vocalize. But it could reach the box, and, well, to my surprise, it intuited what I was trying to do, grabbing it on my behalf. We walked up the cement stairs of the porch and into the open doorway. What little sunlight we had been getting, it diminished as we entered the doorway of the kitchen. The soothing outside air still tasted nice.

Pokemon were supposed to be smart, right? I didn’t have any desire to lose my cover, but from what I knew about Pokemon, that they were smart. At least, the anime had pokemon able to talk to each other. I reached up with both arms, the swadly dropping the box into my spindly leaf-arms with a small clang as its contents shuffled. The box was small, though it was almost as wide as a swadly. Caught in my arms, I set it just inside the doorway by the porch as Lanky’s clangs continued through the doors and cabinets in the kitchen.

The house. It was… It was big. But not pompous. As far as I could tell anyway. A group of chairs in a rough circle. Living room? There wasn’t even a rug if it was. No tv, either. Whoever this guy was, I decided I liked his house. That building we were in the other day though? It could fuck off. The tile was grooved like it actually came from rock, not covered in some kind of slick grease. No sliding around. And, best of all? No fluorescent lights.

Lanky continued to demolish cabinet doors. Swadly’s smell of frustration was growing stronger. I sat him down on a window sill by the door. Lanky had found a couple of bowls. He’d moved to the sink. That wasn’t food. I could taste where that was. Lanky had shuffled through the shelves for too long. He didn’t know where it was. A draft of air indicating where it was. Not all bugs were herbivores, that much I knew, but I didn’t have any impulse to eat any other animal or bug. Only fruits and berries, seeds and leaves even seemed appealing. I thought back to the sunflowers. I salivated.

The door which blocked my path to the smells of fruits and berries, the smell of lunch, it was accordion-style, with multiple joints. I clacked my jaw in annoyance at this newest obstacle, some saliva spitting out, ready to digest. I pushed on the door with the backside of my arm, trying not to knick it. The door swung a bit, as though it had rail on top, but not on bottom. My arms bent. I moved to the center. I pushed on it, the accordion-door moving ever so slightly, bending at the vertical seams. Center was always the spot to push for these inane contraptions.

Concerned about the pressure on the wrong side of my arm, I used my head. A whoosh of air, I pushed, and it came open? No, a shadow stood over me. It was Lanky. I followed the smell. He saw what I was after. “Eeaaa,” I whined in annoyance as he grabbed the black cardboard bag before I could, the dried contents inside shuffling about. Of all the smells that were in the kitchen, this was the only one that was even remotely appetizing.

Lanky took a couple of bowls, scooped out some berries for Swadly and I, then set them on the kitchen table, pulling out a chair for me and setting swadly across. Swadly scooped and I speared, enjoying the flavor as the digestive juices in my mouth broke them down. Lanky then set a cup on the table for me and a bowl of water for swadloon.

I looked out the window as he went outside, running around like a chicken with his head cut off. Tears were in his eyes. He ran into the kitchen, then into the hallway, a door slammed, a whirr and clangs were muffled as the garage door shut. I looked at swadly, who was scooping out his food, berry after berry. Despite not having a great scooper, I was faster and finished my bowl of breakfast. A drop of water hit the window.

Lanky was shouting something as he ran around. He sat on a couch, holding his hands over his ears. Tears streaming down. I took a drink of water from the cup, using the sideways pressure of my arms to hold it in place. He was crying again, I could taste his fear. He looked at me, coughed—no, sobbed. His shirt was wet. Then, he looked down.

At the box by the door.

Then he looked back at me.

Then he looked at the box.

Then he looked back at me.

Lanky’s mouth quivered.

This kid couldn’t hold it together.

 

[zoru22]

~~~ Chapter 13 - Moth ~~~​

Among the most perplexing things about certain Pokemon abilities is mass creation and removal. Marill can summon more than three times its body weight in water. From whence? Of course, most say “magic”, and no more. As scientists shedding light on the world, we are not convinced that is enough, as not understanding the “catch” to pokemon capabilities can have drastic consequences. Jirachi’s wishes are known through myth to preserve a kind of metaphorical balance. Wish to revive Kyogre? Groudon follows. Kyogre and Groudon, objecting to one another's existence, and humanity's general state of noise, in turn awaken the sleeping Rayquaza. The three returned to life, now asleep among Hoenn and its shores.

Could either Groudon or Kyogre, the two mythical beasts of legend that arose naught six years ago really cover the world with ocean or land? Or are we lucky Rayquaza preserves the balance and forces them to sleep? Pokeballs cannot hold those beasts. From whence does Groudon's lava arrive? To whence do Kyogre's rains return?

Groudon creates mountains on land and islands in the ocean, as if pulling from the center of the earth. Kyogre’s rains and tides unceasing threatened to wash Hoenn off the map. Humanity is immensely lucky the balance was preserved and they turned to their own slumbers. Still, I lay awake with that childish question. For matter creation and removal, what’s the catch? We must learn, as only through this learning can we assert ourselves as the rightful owners of this planet.

- Professor Anton Colress, Mechanics of Pokemon Biology, First Edition​

~~~​

Lanky walked to the door, his shirt still wet from the rain that was now pelting the windows. Some drops splashed inside. After mashing through the bowl of berries, I sat straighter and the angry morning drooling finally stopped. The last time my muscles had felt that weak, my legs gave out.

Damn. It had just been a few days ago. And without a nest to stay in or a tree to mark, the number of days since I woke up as a bug was already getting fuzzy. It had been at least a month and some change since then. Lanky bent over, picking up the box, closing the door. He pulled out another, smaller box, sitting down on the couch and popping it open inside the Professor's spartan abode. It was like one of those tablets I saw in the window back in train-town. One of the medium-sized ones.

Oh. A Pokedex. He’d been given a pokedex! And he’d panicked after I'd moved it.

It would have been left in the rain if I hadn’t brought it in. My phone on regular earth was waterproof, so a pokedex should be as waterproof as my shitty old samsung had been. Maybe the charger wasn’t? He needed to get his act together.

Swadly had turned away from me, finished with his water and food as well. He looked out the window, content to watch the wind pick up, tossing the branches, trees and their leaves around. I joined swadly, mesmerized by the rain fall. I…kind of wanted to go outside in it? A crack, and the grump startled, pulling its leaves tighter together, followed by another slap of thunder striking in the distance, a light pulse passed over our eyes.

The rain drizzled, lulling us into torpor to the tune of the storm rolling by. Lanky picked up the bowls, wiping up the mess we’d made, cleaning up the table and kitchen. His striped shirt had dried. He took a deep breath. I returned to watching the trees sway in the wind and falling rain. The clouds were rolling fast. Or was I just asleep? The slight ripples in the air and flashes of green gave the world, and my feelings a dream-like quality.

Lanky rustled through his box, once more knocking me out of my mood. He got up from his chair, pulling from his box a small backpack and plastic in the shape of a rucksack. Swadly’s underside was sticking out from its blanket. A new one was in order.

How long had it been since we started sitting here? All the clocks in the room were digital, and my eyes weren't able to piece the numbers- the digital lights shifted oddly depending on how I focused on them, and were too blurry to read from afar. Not that it mattered, I still couldn't read. Unova was based on America, right? So they probably spoke English; I couldn’t rule out an actual universe having their own language and number systems, however. Learning to tell the time by a clock… Humans live to the tune of an alarm. The work alarm, the one to remind me to take lunch break, and the one to remind me to punch my time card. Day in. Day out. For faceless companies and businesses. Why can’t I just enjoy being a pokemon? Let Lanky and other humans worry about the stress. Another thunder rolled through the air, startling the swadloon. The blasts of lightning were getting less frequent, though the rain stayed about the same.

Lanky pulled out a pokeball from the box.

That’s why, I thought to myself. What was I supposed to do? Run away again? I needed a human friend if I wanted to be around humans. And well, I figured pokemon thieves and actual assholes were rare. Lanky was just an incidental asshole. And already a decent friend. He clicked it on his belt. He had three balls on it.

He pulled out another from the box. Four pokeballs.

Just, a friend who… clearly had no idea what he was doing. I clicked my tongue, attention returning to watch the rain and soak in what natural light was there. The teen was talking. The trees and their leaves moved in wavelike motions with the wind, the branches on the right side slightly compressing themselves to the left. A wave of motion passed through. Slight, but even with the storm, either the wind was changing direction, or the storm was softening. The feel of the sun through the clouds and the windows on my leaves was nice.

Lanky continued moving about behind us, the patter of his shoes on the tile. He pulled out a chair to my right, babbling away with his pokedex. He waved his hand in front of my eyes, talking. I could guess what he was saying.

“Hello? Hellooo? Anyone Home? Are you awake?”

I turned my head to look at him. He was holding it out, facing it to me. It was a picture… of… me? No, it was moving. Someone else’s leavanny. A humans’ voice said something. It launched a flurry of leaves in three quick motions. Lanky was repeating it. “Razor Leaf”, he’d been saying. Dude. We’re sitting at a table for one, in the kitchen. For two, I didn’t even know if I had any on me. I clicked. This wasn’t the time or the place.

I’d remember the word, at least. Lanky pulled the tablet back and looked at them, then tried to show me some more. Not able to slip back into daydreams, I turned away as he continued searching for what I can only assume were more leavanny videos. I hopped off the seat, legs clacking on the ground with light clicks. I walked to the window on the door. I clicked, turning to Lanky. I could have opened it. But I chose not to. Lanky sat, scrolling through his device. I clicked again. He didn’t respond. Best not to let him think we’re going to be able to do everything independently. That first pokemon fight with the rockruff really taught him wrong. If he assumed all pokemon were as helpful or smart, he’d probably wind up getting hurt.

I walked over to him. Poked him in the side. He jumped, dropping the tablet on the table. Pokedexes were built to be rugged. Right? Lanky looked at me. “What do you want?”. I walked over to the door, clicking again. Swadly, watching what I was doing, hopped down on the floor with a slight splat, mimicking my moves. He wanted outside too.

He stared and talked. I could imagine the kid asking us: “In this rain?”

“Yeah, Lanky. In this rain.”

“But why not open the door yourself”

“Because you need to learn to take care of bugs, not just a human-turned bug. This is probably easy-mode, buggy.”

As always, the words on both sides were just gibberish. But body language hasn’t lied to me yet. Okay, well, it’s lied to me a couple times. He relented, opening it. Swadly and I stepped outside, Lanky made to follow, plastic ruffling as he put on a light poncho. It was going to be tricky. I wasn’t sure how strong the barbs on my arms were, especially in this wind. I clicked as Swadly and I walked to the tree. The lowest branch was still a couple feet higher than me. Water hit my eyes and rolled off it, leaving streaks of slightly warped and magnified vision. Without any eyelids, most droplets repelled, but some smaller ones stayed, magnifying the colors. My pokemon proprioception was leagues above human-me’s though, so it didn’t matter. Instead of climbing, I jumped. Lanky stood by the closed door, watching us from under the edge of the house, even wearing the poncho. The grumpface watched, its mouth open, tasting the rain. I took a taste of my own, and it was fresh, and sweet. Rainwater never tasted this good.

Again, I jumped. But didn’t get high enough to grab the branch. It was about a foot off, though. I took some steps back. And ran, launching at the branch, using the hook on my right arm to grab. The force of the movement, buffeted by wind and gravity, a creak of the branch, I reached up, but could feel the stress at the end as it bent. A creak on the branch, I had almost reached my left arm up. I fell to the ground, staggering. The hook on the right blade was shorn off. I turned to the base of the tree, ran at it and ran up it, water dripping on my face and over my leaves, the tree swaying in the wind, the thunder and lightning having moved on.

I climbed up higher, reached out to grab the leaves, and was buffeted by the breeze. A green blur fell off a branch. A flash of white, a ripple, the rain was gone.

I was standing, the intense heat of the sun on me, mostly blocked by a more refined helmet visor covering my eyes. The sun was out, but the air around was slightly hotter than any summer day. Tasting the smell in the air, Lanky was nearby and anxious as ever. Neither he nor I wanted to be here. I stood on some clay and dirt in a clearing of trees. I heard Lanky’s voice behind me. His hair was longer. Standing behind me, taking a confident pose.

And across from us stood a moth of flame. I clicked in distaste.

What did we get into? Lanky was saying something again. His voice trembled, he was anxious, worried. Wait. The man across from us cough—no, laughed. This was a dream. The heat washed over with each shift in the air. A nightmare.

Lanky walked towards me. He said something, holding his arms in a T. He walked forward, holding a spray bottle. Talking in a soft, quiet voice, he sprayed me. They weren’t tears, but I knew what he wanted. His voice said, “hope.” His eyes said, “survive.” Running away? Was I really willing to commit myself this hard? Black head with teal eyes stared me down, my helmet obscuring all but what my face was pointed at.

No. This was just a dream. Wait.

I didn’t want to be here, but running away was simply wrong. Hypnotized once more and tossed into a nightmare. Every instinct said, “Not happenin’, Lea.” Sparks drifted off its white fuzz like a flying camper’s marshmallow fare, the black and teal abdomen reflecting the shimmering sparks of flames falling off its red wings, my opponent moth confident in their posture, wiggling with each wavelike flap of their fiery-red wings.

How do I take control of my nightmares? How do I take control of my life?

I stood back up. I had no idea what the kid was saying. “Eeeaaa,” I cried, as I ran at the monstrous moth, more than twice my size. The wave of heat intensified. Steam was rising as the bubbles of water that adorned me boiled off. The moth moved, lumbering about in comparison to my speed. Every breath, my mouth got drier.

To have a dream be the first real test of my armor, even if it seemed more finished here, it felt wrong. I hadn’t even been able to finish it for real. It should work. I tell myself, pulling in a quick swallow of the warming air. And, well. I already knew we were going to lose, but Lanky remained silent as I duked it out.

This is my dream. I can trust my armor.

The waves of heat only spoke of confidence and power. I couldn’t read the tan man who stood behind the flaming moth. The sheer uncaring emanating stronger with each flap of wings burgeoning with blasts of hot air.

They’re trying to tire me out first, if they stall, I’ll probably fall without even getting a hit in.

The heat of the nightmare was highest at the center of the bug. Another command from the trainer, and sparks of fire fell, emitting out in circular waves. I felt the sting as they flowed around, singing my legs. My mouth was parched.

I threw a razor leaf at its face, too slow to dodge, the bug took the hit, and just let it sit, right between the eyes. Ichor flowed, but the scent of fire it emanated didn’t care. Dots of light appeared at each tip of its wings. Hyper beam! If I ran away, it would just snipe me from a distance. I dashed. The light increased in size. I held my jaw. Remaining sparks floated on the ground in residual waves. Spots in my helmet turned dark, denaturing.

Directly underneath it, and the moth moved back. I jumped and slashed up, landing a clean hit right at the bottom of its abdomen. Several simultaneous explosions blasted behind me, pelting me with rocks. The blasts threw me to the side, I rolled on the ground, eating some gravel. I landed and kept running, getting better distance. The hot ichor sizzled into my arm, burning holes in my hardened blade.

One of my antennae stung. Six large pockets of dirt gored the ground, flakes of blue rocks shining in my eyes. Had it melted the dirt and sand into glass? The moth floated in the air. I screamed at the monster that still flew, tossing all of the razor leaves I could at its wings, tearing a few holes through but it held its height, rising up a foot or two higher. The six red wings which proclaimed “death to bugs that dare”. Lanky was behind me, making exaggerated motions and shouting. Short, tight breaths. Too large, and I’d finish drying out. The tan man across from us, hand on one hip standing back, said another word.

Whips and sparks of heat flashed along the ground again, rolling in short waves. The gravel underneath was turning red. A wall of fire laid across the ground, blocking my approach. Just a bug. Two more walls of fire straight from its wings, holding formation, holding me in place. My helmet flew loose in the heat, the detached leaves burning to ash in the air as the helmet continued its degradation. I stepped back, away from the walls of fire. I already knew what would come next.

Six beams of light, one on each tip. I ran at it. I jumped through the flame. Sliced my left arm into its wing, shearing the middle one into quarters. The bug didn’t even scream. The magma-hot ichor burning what was left of my left blade. I pulled my right arm and slashed repeatedly into the bug’s main body. Tumbling to the ground, the nightmare beat its wings, flailing. I was picked up and thrown into gouged ground swallowing dirt and stone. The world had gone mute, and I’d gone blind.

I gasped, water was poured into my mouth, and I was sprayed and picked up. Vision returned, and I fell from the tree, steam sizzling as my extremities cooled.

At least I was awake from the dream.

 

[zoru22]

~~~ Chapter 14 - Leah ~~~​

For the simplest example of the current popular pokemon type charts being insufficient, one need only look at Hyper Beam and its various forms. Almost all Pokemon can learn hyper beam. They can’t all learn it and perform it with the same efficacy. Drayden’s Salamence can perform Thunder Fang and Fire Blast. Is his pokemon fire, electric, dragon, and flying? Setting aside the debate around the relatively meaningless “flying” categorization—yes, we believe so.

- Erizal Pell, PhD, in: Pokemon: The New Models for Categorizing and Classifying Abilities, a Guide for Aspiring Trainers and Enthusiasts

~~~​

Artie stood outside, leaning against the side of the house, watching his new leavanny play. Despite the weight on his shoulders, the rain had a pleasant, sweet smell to it, his mind drifting. In his head, he stood, outside Castelia city, out of the prying eyes of the paparazzi and onlookers. In the forest of his own thoughts, he'd stood in front of Alder, leavanny in front, the aging gym leader's famed volcarona on the other side. In these daydreams, they’d wiped each other’s full teams except one. Just leavanny and volcarona remained. It was long odds, but they had both saved their best for last. He relished the thought, the anxiety of the dreams of hypothetical futures weighed on his mind. He'd earn and pick a new title for himself then for sure, the teen had already decided.

Art, would be. Everyone got his name wrong. They pronounced it, “Artemis”. It was pronounced “Artemus”. Even the professor got it wrong last night. He shivered at the old man's disregard for him. Art was going to be how the world would know him. The leavanny, on the dark green grass, backed up, then ran at the tree, running up the side, kicking off, reaching out its leaf-arm, hooking onto its target branch, swinging itself up and over, straddling the limb. It was as if the bug had grown up with an instinct for navigating them.

He was less sure about names for her. Too early to decide, though he was leaning towards Leah. Leah the Lady Leavanny. Yeah. He liked the sound of that. Through the falling rain, Leah disappeared into the thick tree. Had she known the box was valuable? Some psychics could passively intuit their trainer’s minds and intentions. Non-psychics of all types, from everywhere on the intelligence spectrum, would learn their trainers’ habits. It was common that either would even help to complete chores, given enough exposure. Art smiled at the thought, brushing a tuft of hair back behind his shoulders.

But leavannies like Leah were buggy and grassy. Not a combination known for their anthropomorphic behaviors, even if they seemed outwardly to be empathetic by way of their gifts and crafting. Even so, Art knew what he experienced. He’d just got the leavanny in his name last night at the Anville pokecenter. Surely it hadn't already "figured him out" as the professor said! He grinned. Anville pokecenter. A pokecenter in the burghs. I’ll never have to go to Anville again, he thought to himself.

The world, the air and rain, it all flashed, rippling. It had only been in the tree for seconds. The leavanny fell from the tree, steam rising up. The swadloon ran to its relative, small wisps of fire flickering in the rain.

Were those burns?

~~~​

I hit the ground, rolling into the dirt below the tree, hitting a root, bouncing into the grass, little droplets of water sizzling, steam floating up off my carapace and leaves. My insides boiled, my abdomen twitched. My legs and arms were numb. I opened my mouth to catch the falling rain. A few sweet drops dripped in. I was so numb that I couldn't even feel it on my carapace—no, the rain had stopped entering my mouth. I rolled over, front of my thorax facing down, biting into the grass, licking what moisture I could off the ground. My abdomen screamed in pain, the world was dark, and I was blind, the numbness spreading, I had to fight to stay awake.

Had I been put into a pokeball? Would I even know if I had? Blobs formed, my vision returning. In my face was a large, light-green creature, big blue eyes surrounded by black, their anthropomorphic head reminiscent of humanoid fae. It held its mouth shut, its hands long, elongated hands glowing as it fluttered about and around me. The world around us had turned gray and unmoving, but its wings were flapping silently, puffs of air perhaps lost in the pain.

“E”, I croaked out, before scrunching up like a slinky from the stabbing ache it caused in my internals. The little fairy raised a hand to its mouth, as if to say, “shh”, and continued its work. I slept on the ground, letting it fly around me and heal. Did it chase off the creature that put me into the dream? Why was the world gray? The last time it had gone gray, I’d died.

Did I die?

Again? I didn’t even get to grow a garden!

Dang.

“You’re funny,” I heard in my head. The fae's mouth had curved up.

Oh no! I’m hearing voices now, too!

~~~​

Yes! Yes you are! Cebi responded, continuing her work in their little private room of time.

“Do you know why?” The leavanny asked.

Do I know why, what? Cebi returned.

“Attacked” images fluttered up in the leavanny's surface of the fight with Alder and his volcarona.

Uh, well, uh, you uh. She sputtered. Did the leavanny not know?

“You don’t know.”

Only Arceus actually knows how our powers work, the celebi thought to herself, smirking inside. The leavanny really didn't know.

The leaves around the head were patched up, she floated towards the abdomen. Cebi was glad leavanny had affinities for the forest. She could heal others, of course. But the process would take a lot longer. Hotter than magma, she could sense the damage the metallic rocks had done. Her psychic powers told Cebi where the leavanny was hurt the most. So she prioritized. The traveler couldn’t remove the rocks from the girl’s body, so she did what she could, accelerating the healing and growth faster than the damage the heat was doing. Unfortunately, it was still rapidly burning through what was remaining of the bug’s energy stores.

“Now you’re the one that's being funny,” her patient said to her over their link.

What?!?

“Who—” the bug scrunched up in pain again— ”attacked me?” the bug deflected.

That was a simple answer. She didn’t want to hash it all out in detail, even if there wasn’t a great explanation. Better question would have been “What was that?” But Leavanny knew what she wanted to ask, not what she wanted to know. Even being one of the smartest of the bunch, this one wasn't that much different from any other of the bugs Cebi had met through her travels.

That was Alder and his volcarona.

“Before that! In the tree!” The girl-bug demanded.

Oh. Uh. Well. Uh. The accelerated regrowth in Leavanny's body was cannibalizing its muscles. It wouldn’t be able to move its arms or legs. For a while, anyway. It needed food.

The leavanny accused Cebi: “It WAS you, wasn’t it!”

Listen! I’m saving your life right now!

“I’m not dead?”

Cebi facepalmed at the question. No! You’re not! Now, where do you have food? she responded over their connection, not a little happy to distract towards a thought more concrete.

The location popped up to the fore of leavanny’s mind before the bug actually replied. A wink, and Cebi was gone. Another, and she was back, the bag of dried berries on the ground below her. Two more winks, and she was back with a bucket of water and a small cup. She poured small cups of water into the leavanny’s mouth, then used telekinetics to drop berry after berry in the bug’s mouth as what little saliva had replenished began to work the un-mashed food into a slurry, sliding down the bug's mouth and into the abdomen, making its way into the bug's digestive system, some of the nutrients being picked up by the roots which hadn't all been scorched from the flames. Cebi's own healing powers helped the bug's circulation and stomach patch itself, then begin to properly pick up and replenish the lost muscle.

“Can you tell me why you hypnotized me and put me into a nightmare?”

I didn’t, Cebi said, pushing the bag over, dumping dried berries onto the moist ground, using telekinesis to pick a bunch up and put them in Leavanny’s mouth.

“What?” she asked.

You just, you just surprised me when you woke me up, okay? I had just fallen asleep on the branch.

“And so you sent me into a nightmare by accident?”

Kinda? I got you out as soon as I could! And it wasn’t a nightmare! Leavanny, through their psychic connection, flashed with confusion, her mind unable to pick a proper theory.

“Huh? What?”

Don’t worry about it. You’re back here now, and you’ll be fine in a moment. Figuratively, anyway. Perceptually, it would still be a couple hours.

“What’s your name?” She fed leavanny more berries. The bug's muscles were growing back in.

My name’s Cebi, she responded.

“Hello, Cebi.” Leavanny’s air sacs had healed, little diaphragms growing back in, good as new, opening their little slots in the bug's abdomen as they began to breathe again.

You’re not mad?

“Why would I be mad? You’re healing me, aren’t you?”

Cebi shrugged before responding, Yeah, but… You almost died just now! she sputtered.

“I’ve already died once, Cebi. This makes twice.” The bug was going to be difficult.

Cebi puffed, Whatever! You should be able to move your arms now. I need to tend to the rest of you. Eat some berries.

The leavanny, laying prone across the ground, reached out an arm. “I can’t reach my mouth.”

Hmm? Oh, phooey. Leavanny was missing the ends of her arms. The left one was just a stub. Her right arm was missing the front half, piercing a small berry but not long enough to reach the mouth.

One moment! Growing limbs is hard!

Once Leavanny was eating again, Cebi returned to patching up the rest of the internal burns in the abdomen and intestines. Nothing burned a hole all the way through the stomach, at least. That was good.

Why did you eat rocks?

“I didn’t mean to.”

Your insides are hurt pretty bad.

“Am I gonna be a lot stronger now?”

Um. Yes. Kind of. Maybe. It depends. Most likely!

“Darn.”

Cebi paused. There weren’t a lot of pokemon she’d met who could have a conversation like this. She’d never met one who wasn’t excited about getting stronger. You’re not excited at the chance to get stronger?

“I dunno. Humans do stuff to live.”

Kinda. I think? I mean, don’t we all?

“Humans are forced to do stuff to live. W—They don’t want to do those things. But they do it to live anyway, right?” Images of a human, locked in a room for hours and hours, day after day until a clock said they could go home, passed through Leavanny's mind. Another, being stuck in a pokeball, day after day after day, nothing but waking, eating, and fighting, then back in the pokeball and back to the pokecenter, another stuck in a lab, day after—He—hey! Listen to me, can I call you Leah? That’s what the kid outside was calling you. Cebi asked, trying to distract from the cascading thoughts.

“Huh, wai—what? You can read human minds too?” Leavanny’s mind had paused, the cycle disrupted as she mulled over her name, distracted from her increasing escalating internal anxiety. The abdomen was fully healed, internally and externally, fully covered with new hardened, leaf-armor carapace on all sides, slats of vents punched through to let heat and air and waste pass.

Yup! And listen, Leah. I CAN call you Leah, right?

“Yes. I like that name.”

Good. Listen, Leah, everything’s going to be okay, all right? There’s nothing wrong with getting stronger—A pang of emotional doubt swung through Leah’s feelings. I don’t know everything about you or where you come from, but you’re going to be O.K.!

“...”

You’re almost fixed up! What do you want to do? Cebi asked, trying to keep the leavanny from panicking.

~~~​

Damn, Cebi was asking the hard questions, I’d decided. Not really.

I want to live in the big city, with a bunch of people and pokemon. I want to have a garden. I want to run a flower store and sell flowers to people! We’ll have elephant bushes, hydrangeas, sunflora, roses, budew, little trees, petilil and lilligant, and a servine will keep the birds out! Oh and I’ll make Lanky a leaf apron. Leah the Leavanny running a little garden. I really, really liked that name. It was probably generic as hell for humans to name a leavanny “Leah,” but whatever.

Cebi, in our little isolated chamber, was floating around my head, just barely out of vision as I laid on the ground. I had finished off the bag of berries, and she’d scooped me up a couple of berries. “That looks really nice!” Cebi said. “But who’s Lanky?” she asked.

He’s the kid trainer that you said named me Leah.

It was a fight I’d won, but unlike the rockruff, it felt… It felt awful. Pyrrhic, to win like that. Not even pyrrhic. I could have killed the moth. Could I have tanked the hyper beams? Probably not? But that damn moth had no chill. And all-out offensive and just tanking every hit?

“Oh, you mean Art!”

Art?

“Yeah, that’s his name. I think. Oh, and you should be able to move your legs!”

Do you know how I can make that happen? I asked, vibrations in our little box, the fluttering of her wings in the air beating with a soft thrum.

“I mean, just move your leg—" She was toying with me. She knew Art’s real name but— “sorry, sorry, just teasing a little.” The little sprite zipped around. “I don’t,” she responded. “But don’t get too down about it! It can definitely happen!” she said.

“And, I think we’re done now! Stand up and tell me how you feel, Leah!” I got up. I stood up, and… Well, I felt good. Better than ever.

Thank you! I exclaimed. She just smiled.

Before this is over, I have a couple questions. I looked at swadly down on the ground, frozen amidst a wobbly stride.

Why don’t other pokemon pokespeak to me?

“Silly! They are talking to you! Just because you can’t understand them doesn’t mean they don’t understand you! It’s just. Not with words! And I already know your other question! Yes, of course I’ll be your friend! W—If you get your garden, I’ll even introduce you to some of my siblings!”

The grey world began to regain color as I shifted about a few last times, I tasted the air, I didn’t smell any charring. I examined my blades. They were in as good shape as ever.

Everything seems good, Cebi.

“Come say ‘hi’ when you pass through the forest to the north!” A wink, and she was gone. Swadly ran to me, hugging into my leg as I was left looking standing in the once-again pounding rain, the bucket, small cup of water, and now-empty bag of berries strewn on the ground. The empty bag could fit me inside. Light scorch marks from when I fell out of the tree all but on fire. Art stood, halfway across the lawn, shaking his head. We stood in the rain, soaking in the water as it poured down. I opened my mouth allowing the rain to fall in. That sweet taste in the water had gone. I picked swadly up off the ground, holding the huggy little creature, putting him on my head again.

Together, we climbed the trees, and I got him some leaves. He needed a new blanket, my body armor having been retroactively finished from the not-dream.

My name’s Leah. Leah the Leavanny.

Thank you, Cebi.

 

[zoru22]

~~~ Chapter 15 - Grind ~~~​

My favorite legendaries have always been the three dragons: Zekrom, Reshiram and Kyurem. But of the three, I think I like Kyurem’s myth the most. It reminds me of my older brother. My sister and I are twins, and we always fought. We never had a reason. Just wanted to. Mom or dad would come in, try and figure out the reasons for our squabbles; always a tangled mess. And we liked it that way. We were just sisters picking on each other! Did we need reasons to hate each other!? No. We made them up anyway! At one point, it turned into a game, a challenge to see who could confuse mom and dad the longest before they gave up.

Then my brother would come around. He’d roll in, come downstairs, hear us arguing over breakfast. Arceus, I can hear it now. “Yeah yeah, whatever you two say. Shut up and eat your oatmeal.” Oh, it was so infuriating! Maybe he figured out the game or didn’t care, either way, it made us so mad! Nowadays we all get along great!

That’s what Kyurem means to me. That older brother who just steps in and says, “Shut up and eat your damn oatmeal.”

— Lenora, Nacrene City Gym Leader​

~~~​

I had gathered up the leaves we needed. Swadly sat on my head. Did the kid see Cebi leave? If he had, then he’d probably recognize which pokemon she was.

Jumping off the branch, I bowled the kid over. Tumbling to the ground, spilling the bucket of water Cebi had retrieved. A gasph of air, and I moaned in embarrassment for not looking where I was landing. Gobs of water from the rain collecting on the tree’s leaves splashed on my eyes, each drop warping my vision as they rolled off. Swadly looked at me from above, jumping down himself, his leaves acting like a wingsuit, guiding him down. A splash onto the ground, he landed. He picked up a stray berry that had been left by the bag and ate it.

Lanky had chosen a bad place to stand. Art. Cebi said his name was Art. Maybe I could call him Arty? Eh, I liked my name for him better. Lanky scrambled, rolling away for a second, his slight smell of panic somewhat masked by the drizzling drops. Lanky stood up and then over me as I wallowed on the grass. He knelt down, and felt the new leaves that covered my thorax and the front of my abdomen like a skirt. When he saw my surprise as I flinched, he said another word, picked up the bucket and bag of empty berries, and took them back inside with a surprising amount of speed.

With the leaves, I moved next to the house, under a little overhang where the water was less, the leaves I’d gathered held with my barbs. A few leaves were torn from the fall, but I really didn’t need many. The rest were going to be razor leaves. A quick slice, some silk, and the new patch was ready for swadly before he had even made it back to me. Lanky came back outside, talking, pokeball in hand. A flash of red, and swadly was gone before I could finish. Oh well. Another flash, and I was gone, too.

That same, terrible, acrid smell from the night before returned. It wasn’t as thick this time, at least. A flash of red and white fluorescent light filled my vision again. I immediately slipped on the floor, falling on my ass. The water hadn’t dried off me yet. A lady in a white lab coat faced me. She said something to Lanky in a stiff tone. Lanky responded, heading to a counter and grabbing some paper towels from a dispenser. The… Nurse? Researcher? She had short, blonde hair and was sitting in a swivel chair, facing me as I lay on the tile. After slipping around the other night, it just wasn’t worth trying to get up.

Lanky chuckled, bending over, dabbing me with some paper towels to dry me off a bit. It wasn’t much. He put his hands around my thorax and lifted me up, setting me on a table with some wax paper on it. I sat up. The nurse talked, motioning him towards the door, kicking him out. Her attention turned to me, she grabbed a couple more paper towels, wiping the rest of the drops off my legs, the rest left to air dry.

She pulled out a tape measure, her pitch turning high as she talked in short sentences. She took hold of my left arm, tugging it gingerly. I complied, extending it to full length. She measured the fore, talking in short spurts, text appearing on a screen behind her. Then, she measured the whole length. This went for every aspect, my thorax, head, antennae, and abdomen. When she’d measured my legs, she seemed satisfied.

When we were done, she turned to the computer, typing. The screen went dark. She turned to me, put her hand on my thorax. I stiffened. Talking in that high-pitched talking-to-kiddies tone. “Up”, she said, lifting me up and having me stand on the table. She wiped off a few more drops of water, turned back to her pc and pressed a button. Two small, mechanical arms extended from the ceiling. I couldn’t tell exactly before they came down, but they mirrored each other, rotating, pausing, rotating and pausing again. I wiggled my arms and body a bit, shaking off some remaining dew. A couple of seconds, and on a screen behind was a rotating leavanny. I couldn’t see the details, but the movement, the splotches of color made it obvious I’d been scanned. I’d had X-rays before in my past life, but nothing whole-body. Nothing this invasive before. Little specks of light glinted and disappeared as the image rotated.

Once the arms retracted, the girl clicked the mouse and slid through the model piece by piece. Then she turned back to me and the examination continued. She inspected my leaves and my blades. She tried poking at my abdomen a couple times. The armor was blocking her attempt. She tried to reach through the vents I’d left for heat and air. It tickled, but also uh, don’t touch me there, lady. This was taking too long. Sorry girl, I don’t know what you’re trying to do, but those scans you took are going to need to be enough. I clicked, and she stepped back, startled. Turning back to her computer and typing, the model went away.

She said another word. One I’d recognized. “Down”. Finally, we were done. At least, that’s what I thought, when she gasped as I jumped to the floor and immediately slipped, crying out “Eeee!” in surprise. She began to hiccup—no, giggle, as she picked me up and set me back down on the table. What came next, reality itself hitched for me, the world slowed. She had a syringe. I watched her hand. Trust. My blade arms—were rubbing together as I forced myself to look away. Pokemon diseases? Pokemon had disease? Can Pokemon get rabies? I felt the pressure of her hand on the back abdomen, and a slight prick as I stared instead at the door. The nurse cooing, we were done. She pulled out a sticker, placing it on my thorax—well, the leaf-plate that covered my thorax. I couldn’t read, but my guess was that it said “Vaccinated from PokeRus!” Why would pokemon want stickers anyway? Whatever. I was sure I didn’t have anything to fear from disease. It doesn’t matter. Aaaand we were actually done, this time! This time I knew for sure. You don’t get stickers until the end of the appointment.

She picked me up and set me down on the ground, holding me up by the blade, helping me walk as I slipped around. The tile really was terrible. She tried to stifle a couple of laughs and giggles, holding me up. I’d be glad to get out of this hellhole. Finally, there was Lanky, being talked at by Professor Smiles. The building had a glass front door with handles I COULD PUSH. The talking stopped, the research-nurse-assistant let go of me as I walked in Lanky’s direction before diverting to the doorway. I pushed on the handle, a couple of slips of my legs on tile, the door gave way against my weight and out into the mist of rain I went instead.

Out of that cursed place, with its cursed air and cursed fluorescence. Salt was in the air now. A small seaside town was in front of me now, wet, and glistening from the withdrawing storm. Lanky came out of the building, pokeballs on his waist. I followed him inside a small store, exploring the shelves, tasting the scent of the foods. It wouldn’t be hard to steal some, but the kid at the register had their eyes on me.

I walked around, loosely following lanky’s path. He put some human food and a bag of berries on the counter, keeping an eye on me. They had sodas, breads, berries, beers, and cereals. It was a small little convenience store. Lots of spray bottles like the ones Lanky had in my not!dream. Potions. That’s what they were. Potions, antidotes, and heals of various kinds. I didn’t see any pokeballs, not on the shelves at my height, at least.

Why hadn’t he tried to run after me and catch me with a pokeball? He waved at me, putting the things he’d bought into his backpack. I thought about being in a pokeball. I shivered. Maybe he’d learned I didn’t like them? Well, I followed him as we walked, he mostly didn’t talk, just stared at his pokedex. That fight with the moth came back to mind. Was it really a dream? What else would it have been? Lanky had been waving around. And what was up with where we had been fighting? That was a serious enemy. Why hadn’t we been fighting in a more official spot? My deep fear was the eternal grind, stuck going from gym to gym, or random trainer to random trainer. That was a pokemon who could have killed me if they took me seriously. Had the moth or trainer been sandbagging?

He walked into a sign, and put the pokedex away to focus on our travels instead. Lanky had never actually had much tech before. It was hard to imagine a world with pokedexes which also built them with planned obsolescence. It just didn’t vibe. Well, they clearly had no problem letting some things decay and fall apart.

I saw a few bird-types fly by. No skarmories, just a few pidgeys and some eagles, the ones with the red feather sticking over their heads.

~~~​

“I’m not sure what Artemis was talking about in terms of his leavanny being lit on fire. I don’t see any burns or evidence of burns, and Avery’s records didn’t include a full physical or scan, so we don’t have any internal state. Chances are it got hit by an electric joltik attack on accident, and fell from the tree. Other parts of the kid's story don't make sense.”

Professor Juniper nodded. “Thank you, Kate. What of the results of the physical?”

“They’re uploaded to the profile of Artemis’ pokedex, now. As far as I can tell, the leavanny’s extra healthy, save for some concentrations of metallic rocks in its abdomen. I tried to see if I could feel them, but that leaf-dress armor got in the way.”

“Will it cause problems for the bug?”

“They seem benign, but we didn't do a complete analysis on the compositions," she reported. The lab had some nice equipment, and could act as a pokecenter in a pinch, but surgery and invasive operations would be out of their list of options unless it was an emergency. His employee continued: "Just tell the kid to be careful versus electric types. They probably amplified any joltiks' effects by quite a bit.”

“Anything else?”

“All in the report. Just a regular, everyday, run-of-the-mill leavanny with a penchant for more traditional-style armor crafting.”

Juniper smiled, like he always did. "Good."

 

[zoru22]

~~~ Chapter 16 ~~~​

Thanks for listening to today’s show folks. As we close up, those of us here at the FREE-Quency radio show received a number of calls about the claims of pokecenters modifying your pokemon. We can’t talk to you about it right now, but tomorrow’s episode will have the full scoop! Tune in to yet another explosive expository episode! We wouldn’t want you to miss these revelatory stories. Next up, Doctor Larkin talks Mega Stones! Magical Cure for PokeRus, or poison? Stay tuned during this ad break and we’ll get the deets from the doctor on his two pm show, only available here on FREEMON RADIO. doctorlarkinisnotadoctorandisnotgivingmedicaladvice.

Hey folks! In the mood for a burger? Wynautaburger's got you covered! Want fries or a shake? Wynaut all three? We just opened, right outside Nimbasa city, Route 4. Wynaut stop by?

~~~​

Out and about again, we walked. Lanky and I stuck mostly to silence, ruminating to ourselves. Not like I was the best human conversationalist. He'd put his pokedex and phone away, his cheeks red as the runway down his forehead. He'd held the pokedex like I used to hold my phone, staring into its lit screen as he walked. He was new to this town and hadn't quite learned where the ambush poles were. It had come out of nowhere, planting a red line down Lanky’s forehead.

Objectively, mathematically funny. My face in its permanent grin, I held my mouth shut as I remained silent, the kid turning their head around for a moment, checking their surroundings.

We arrived back at what I assumed was the professor’s house. It was a quaint house, painted a soft blue, with a driveway and garage which would fit one American car and a couple motorcycles, if I had to guess. Which was an odd thing to consider—the pokemon world didn't have that many cars, even if it seemed dramatically larger than the games. What was a short walk in the middle of nowhere, just off the main route that led to the town took us a couple hours.

The trees of the forest towered around the house, maybe a hundred yards cut away before the treeline. Occasional chirps and rustling from them indicating the life pokemon around. Judging by the forest around him, the professor enjoyed the seclusion. Lanky shook himself off, wiping his shoes on the entrance mat before going in through the front door, leaving me, still dripping wet from the rain, to stand in the emerging sun of the thinning spring storm clouds. The extra light of the sun on my leaves was most welcome.

When we got to the door, Lanky had looked at me, then my pokeball. Then back to me, as if to say, "Get in the pokeball, or stay outside". I raised my arms and clicked. "No thanks," or "Ee aaneenee," which seemed to work for him. As he stepped inside, I turned my attention to the tree in the yard. With nice big, thick leaves, the tree stood taller than the ones in the backyard. In front of the house, I walked up it. It towered over me, but the lowest branch was a couple arm-lengths higher than me. I bent my legs, jumped, hooking both arms around the first branch, swinging my leg up and around.

"Mmrrrrk," I heard. Staring me down from above was a blue bird, about my height. It had a large, jagged beak and its feathers formed a kind of hat. A murkrow was nesting up high. Watching me from its nest.

"I just want leaves!" I yammered, "E aaa Nee EEaaaa". They didn’t understand what I was saying. I didn’t need them to. They just needed to understand my intent. When they didn’t move, I moved to the end of the branch and grabbed the leaves I wanted, hopping back down into the professor's lawn. By the time Lanky returned from inside the house, I’d finished carving them up into razors, stuffing the hardening weapons into my cufflinks.

We walked up the road to the north a bit, Lanky looking for I didn’t know what, stopping when we reached an area in the trees with a decent clearing. There were a few muskrat-like rodents with angry red-and-yellow eyes patrats running around, playing. When we walked in, they ran off, a watchog chirping at them.

Had I killed the volcarona?

Old episodes of pokemon, Ash telling Pikachu, "You can do it, we’re not out of the fight!" despite facing down Paul's Darkrai/Lugia/Latios.

The heat of Alder’s volcarona, the exhilaration. That last bit, the overcommitment, was poison in my guts, they clenched at the thought, threatening to eject whatever was left in my abdominal stomachs. But the beginning? The middle? I could see why a pidove might face a geodude or any other opponent quadruple their size. Chittering, I could taste my own, earthy fears.

If the volcarona had thrown wave after wave of fire at me, and been slightly keen on dodging and staying out of range, I would have been burned alive, right from the start, without a chance. And despite the damage I had been taking, Lanky never called me back with a pokeball. Had he been trying to? Had he been yelling, "It’s done, it’s over, we’ve won"?

If so, I had no way of knowing. If I needed to know any words, "stop" or "it’s over" or "it’s done" were top priorities. I kept my eyes out for Cebi. If I saw her again, she had the answers I needed. The differences from either the games or the anime, I needed to know. How often do pokemon fight to the death? Even in the wild? I’ve seen eagles pick up emolga and disappear, I’ve felt that primal fear of skarmory just flying overhead. Something was under there.

Just a bit off the main trail, a field, a small, wet picnic table, patrats scurried as we stopped their party, watchogs stepping back and keeping eyes on us. Lanky sat down, calling me forward. With the help of the pokedex and some motivational berries, we worked out the words he wanted me to learn.

I already remembered "Up" and "Down" from the short stint with the nurse with the jirachi tattoo, though after that experience at the lab, I couldn’t tell if it was actually "Sit" or "Stand".

Do other pokemon have this confusion?

Lanky was showing me the razor leaf video again, pointing at a tree. This time, I obliged, pulling one out and flinging it deep into the bark. He pulled out a berry. Working as a team with a person meant I had a need to learn these words. The energy to care about the greater human languages? Not there. Why should I? If there’s confusion in their words, then that’s their problem, not mine. So long as Lanky kept me out of the pokeball, our partnership would work. Yep, it’s just me, Leah the Leavanny, a totally-normal never-been-human pokemon!

Lanky said a word, holding a pokeball. "Return!" is how I imagined the intent. He clicked the button. I lost all senses again. A flash and I was back out. "EEEEEEEEssss", I hissed at him, jumping back. The watchogs that had turned away stood back up, turning to us at my vocalizations and objections at Lanky. I held no compunctions against setting boundaries. The kid looked down, paused a second. You’re going to need to figure something else out, kid. I don’t want you using a pokeball unless absolutely required. What I was doing was clearly working—I had been out for hours versus the swadly, who was still in their pokeball.

Lanky held up the ball again, and I hissed. But instead of pointing it at me this time, he motioned to the ground. Return? Well, I mean, sure, I’ll walk back. Don’t lose me in a box on Bill's PC, because if you do, I’m literally going to kill you if I ever get out. He pulled out his pokedex, then pulled back a video, showing a trainer using the same word, a flash of light, and their pokemon was gone. Yeah, it was "Return!" or "That’s enough!" something like that. That doesn’t mean I’m going to be happy about it.

The next one we worked on together, was "Slash", at least that’s what I thought. The trainer in the video said the word, their leavanny then went to town on a fucking log, chopping it up. Lanky repeated the word, pointing at the tree I’d embedded with a leaf a moment ago. I ran at it, chopping it a couple times, tearing out some good chunks, scaring a pidove out of its nest and onto the little forest floor. It chirped angrily at me, jumping, and pecking harmlessly onto my leaf blades. One swipe and the bird would be gone. Lanky called for me to return, and when I chose to walk, it pecked at me.

"Slash", Lanky said. It didn’t deserve to die because it was stupid, but with it practically hanging off my abdomen, I couldn’t just ignore it. It received a complimentary ride on Leah the leavanny’s personalized airtime express, launching it back to its tree, knocking it about a bit. The bird rolled back to the ground.

Dirt’s included as part of the package, hon.

Lanky looked at me.

"Neeeaaaeee", I moaned. What? I’m not going to kill it just because it chose a bad fight.

The bird came to, looked at us as its head wobbled, then ran off, squawking and flapping its wings. Content to let it be, we returned to practice and got lost in the sauce. By the end, "Return", "Razor Leaf", "Bite", "Slash", and "String Shot" had somewhat been added to my repertoire, and I was getting a feel for what I think was my name in there as well. He wanted to keep going but my brain was tired, and my instincts agreed that it was enough for the day. I was getting bugged. Vocalizing by tapping my hard mouth together in short motions, coupling that with slaps of my tongue, I produced a myriad of frustrated clicks.

I’m learning some words, so we can team up, kid, but when I get bored, it’s over.

When the bag of berries were put into his pack, I clicked in satisfaction. Yeah, I know, I remember what I said about not being a pet. It was a partnership, and he was learning that. It still beats the constant foraging for half- and over-ripe soft fruits and vegetables.

Lanky pulled my pokeball off his belt, twisted it around, clicked it larger, holding it, looking at me as I stared at it, and then decided. Gratefully, he clicked the ball, and it went smaller, putting it away, back on his belt. One day, he’ll learn better.

Instead, he pulled from the bag a tennis ball as we took our break in the late afternoon, setting sun. He tossed the ball up in the air as I went into the tree I had chopped up earlier to relax.

And found myself face to face with a bird.

It had a pink domino-mask style covering on its face, one band tethering out from each side, behind, a nest with a pidove behind it. An unfezant. It stood above me, puffing out its feathers, opening its wings like the eagle chick that attacked me in train town. The pidove squawked. I didn’t have my helmet clasped. I dropped to the ground as it cawed at me, diving from the tree, pushing me into the ground. Lanky shouted, I pulled my antennae back and used my blades to deflect as the bird continued its threatening march at me, following up its surprise attack. The bird pecked and pulled at the leaves behind my head. They didn’t tear off, and I was pulled back instead. The unfezant flapped its wings, struggling, we got some air and it threw me into a tree, squawking over its victory, landing, putting a claw on my thorax, pecking at my face.

"Slash!" Lanky yelled. What was I thinking?

Just fight it!

The bird went for another peck, aiming for my antenna. When it got close, I slammed its beak with my blade, the bird spinning and flapping its wings in surprise.

Don’t kill it, I thought to myself.

I ran, slashing it again before it could recover, shearing off some feathers. Using the broad of my blades, I beat its head into the ground, disorienting the bird. It was a bit taller than me and had more mass. The pressure built in my mouth, and sprayed it with silk, covering the bird as it struggled against the newfound rope it was covered with. "Return!" Lanky shouted, and we ran back home before the angry unfezant decided it wanted more.

We returned to the professor’s hours as night was falling. Lanky talked to the professor some more, let swadly out of the ball, and set us outside for the night. I couldn’t complain about that. The following days were more of the same, and we settled into a bit of a routine. We never went to that part of the route again, so we didn’t have to tussle with an unruly unfezant again. A few times, people with pokeballs stopped by. Each time, Lanky and the trainers had a short conversation, but I was grateful we never had to fight.

The days turned into about a week or so, and I learned a few more words. Lanky tried to teach me solar beam once. Didn’t work. Looking at a screen and hearing the word doesn’t grant the ability to do anything, that process would probably be more involved. Solar beam was such a strong move and clearly needed quite more practice if I wanted to learn it. Didn’t help that the videos were all of the bulbasaur line and other plant-type pokemon that knew it, but no Leavanny. I didn’t even know where it would come out? My arms? My mouth? My eyes? How would I charge the energy for it?

While the videos worked for me, they didn’t work for swadly. Watching me do the moves repeatedly, however, he learned some of his own quite well. Since we were reunited, he’d been more energetic and anxious. Seeing me roll around and practice at night, he wanted in on the grind. That anxiety and desire for a fight from him was strong. He even tried to tussle with me a few nights in the backyard. Each time, he lost. But he was getting bigger. From not being as tall as my knees, to where my abdomen met the midpoint of my legs. I had to patch his cloak multiple times.

Swadly-bug was growing fast, and our little team of two was soon to have another Leavanny in the mix.

I felt it.

 

[zoru22]

~~~ Chapter 17 - Mastery ~~~​

Professor Colress,

It has come to our attention that your experiments upon pokemon have been violating even the most basic of ethics. You are accused of gross misconduct as a caretaker and keeper of living beings. We understand your desire to understand this world; regardless, the evidence of abuses performed under your supervision produces a list that can no longer be ignored. Attached are the complaints against your experiments. In order to avoid further embarrassment, we require your immediate resignation. If you choose not to do so, Opelucid University will be forced to initiate legal action.

- Stephanie Lewis, University President​

~~~​

One morning when I woke up, a leavanny was staring at me. They were a bit taller than me, and smelled a lot like swadly. Right. he’d evolved while I was sleeping. I couldn’t tell, but his antennae were a bit longer than mine too. An inch or two, maybe. His leaf headdress was a bit longer than mine was too. That was easily chalked up to him evolving with a fully-kempt leaf blanket, however— I was sure that I had evolved without a fully-kempt blanket of my own. Or at least a small one, judging by the smaller leaves my own headdress had been when I awoke as a leavanny. He was holding a line of leaves, carved and sewn into a necklace. He’d been crafting while I was asleep.

He made to place it over my head.

I accepted.

It was already getting weird, calling him swadly. He clicked, satisfied, before turning to craft some more. I looked out of our perch in the tree. The lower branches only had small-or-no leaves remaining. We had been out in the forest, practicing and training more than in the backyard.

The murkrow out front had even started to push me out of the tree in the front yard. They didn’t care for the arts and crafts. Not even my own little leaf-necklace worked for it. Us leavanny would need more places to craft, and five trees clearly weren’t enough. Despite removing most of the leaves from the trees in the back, the few bushes in the front were looking nice and round. The professor didn’t seem to care for flowers, and pulled the ones we tried to plant.

Lanky and I even had a few fights with other trainers. Or rather, we had gone into town and I pushed a patrat out of a ring. I showed off my ability to understand Lanky's commands. Simple stuff like: string shot, razor leaf, slash, and following him around. All while another human observed, occasionally taking notes on a tablet. Lanky had kept me out of the pokeballs for the most part, so I played along. When the pokeball was pulled out and I was forced to recall inside, I still wasn’t happy about it. I clicked in annoyance when he released me. We all have to do some things we don’t like, in order to get what we want. I told myself. It made some sense, that you might need a pokeball to protect others, including your own pokemon. That short-range teleport could mean the difference between life and death. Especially during a trainer battle, where you might not know when you need to stop. Or might not be able to hear your trainer. I thought about Lanky, us running through a cave full of zubat. I had no area of effect attacks. Which would be a problem if we were ever stuck in a mass outbreak. He'd tried and tried to show me various videos, but I just couldn't tell how it would work. The leavanny just seemed to "know" and didn't show any indication of how the move worked.

Leah the Leavanny, and Leaf the Leavanny. Leaf is as good as any other name. Not that swadleaf would know either way. The two of us jumped to the ground, I pushed him slightly, testing his strength. Pressing back at me, he took the challenge. I raised my blade, he met mine, and we clashed. He didn’t buckle immediately like he used to. I pressed harder, and he fell to the ground.

I’m still stronger than you.

I clicked, satisfied. Leaf lay on the ground, I reached out my arm. He took mine in his. We locked our little arm-barbs together. I pulled him up. He clicked. Lanky had been watching from the window and came outside, as swadly-now-leavanny and I recovered from our little tussle. We ate breakfast at the table, Leaf making a mess trying to emulate the way I stabbed berries one by one. Eventually, he gave up and tried to scoop with moderately more success. Still made a mess, since he hadn’t modified his blade to scoop.

Lanky came out of the professor’s office, face red, a capsule-like metal cylinder in hand, then went into his room. When he came back out, he was decked out. Helmet, backpack, canteen, sleeping bag rolled up. He recalled leaf to the pokeball, then looked at me, and sighed.

I poked him, annoyed.

It would be so much easier, wouldn’t it, kid? Do you even know what happened to the swadloon from my nest? Hmm? They’re probably sitting around in a pokeball in Bill’s PC for eternity!

We walked out front. A quick pressure over my mind and I knew the alien was out. Lanky struggled with the metal cylinder. Before he’d figured out how it worked, however, Professor Smiles called us back in. As expected, the alien was there. I tried thought-speaking to it a couple of times over the last few weeks, same as I did with Cebi. It either didn’t care or didn’t understand. Wouldn’t surprise me if it was both.

That would make two of us.

In full gear, Lanky held my arm and held onto the professor’s as well. Smiles spoke, and we teleported once more.

Immediately, I was assaulted by the taste-smell of pokemon. The residual smell of that volcarona, followed by sadness and despair. Flash of white faded, and vision returned. We were in a large room with lots of skylights. Trees grew in various spots, a ring sat in the center, a good distance away from the trees. Burn marks scorched the dirt from fights in the past. We were in a gym. I looked at the man before me, tan, and red hair. Alder held himself high, but he couldn’t hide the smell that rolled off.

Another taste wafted through the air, though. The smells of concrete, grease, and humans. We were in the city.

~~~​

Alder didn’t care much for living in the city. He’d preferred to be out and about, exploring the world looking for legendaries and mythics, testing the mettle of his pokemon and trainers. He never saw a point in the fanfare and sport that was made out of fighting. The rush, the camaraderie, the trust he’d built. That was enough. They’d grown strong, and helped him to go strong as well.

The gym was supposed to be closed, so he could have some sparring matches with some of the rangers out east, but he’d made a promise to the professor, and then to this trainer. Eight swadloon sat in a tree behind him, as he stood across from his challenger, a girl in a yellow sundress and brown hair stood across. The camera was already rolling. He didn’t like the show of it all, never allowing his fights to be broadcast live, asking not to be recorded in general. Kate wanted the records though, and he would oblige.

Shaking, she held open her case of badges at him. Two already.

Driftveil and Nimbasa. Not a bad start, he thought.

“Alder. I, Kate Dean, f-formally challenge y-you for the Castelia City badge!”

Alder smiled. Clay does have a soft spot for the kids.

“Mastery, or Dominance?” He asked. Classically, Dominance fights were challenges for the right to run the gym, though the culture for those was shifting too. Dominance fights were brutal, and not many trainers could bear seeing their pokemon going through such pain. It wasn’t unheard of for a pokemon to give all it had in those fights and die from injuries before getting to the pokecenter. Alder didn’t like Dominance fights. In the wild, pokemon would fight naturally. For food, for dominance, and for territory. You can scare a wild pokemon away, or you can run away. It was on the predator to catch. Dominance fights were a different story.

Kate had five pokeballs on her waist. “Mastery!” she said. He breathed a sigh of relief.

“I accept!” He responded, continuing the formalities. It was just the two of them and some swadloon, but the rules and regulations of the league provided trainers comfort and protection. Mastery fights were a challenge, seeing how well you knew, trusted, and trained your pokemon to do the right thing.

Only those who thought they were elite took Dominance. Any gym leader’s full team was on par with any others, including members of the Elite Four. Any of them could make a bid for the title of Region Champion. However, everyone with the power to take the title would have to go through the Elite Four with dominance fights. The strong ones who did declined the title, happy to know that they could. The weak trainers? Cast from the League when their pokemon died.

Regardless of what the tabloids said about the League being weak, gym leaders and the Elite Four liked it better this way. To Alder, not having champions at all times gave him and Unova a greater sense of freedom. No other region’s leaders would have allowed the pokemon rights movements to restrict trainers with the concessions they willingly gave to protect the pokemon. He was proud of the League’s restraint. They all knew enough of what happened in other regions when trainers let the power get to their heads.

“The rules of the mastery challenge for Castelia Gym!” he began. “Our ethos is power and self-control! I will use two Pokemon, you may use up to the League limit of six. Victory is determined by either pushing pokemon out of the ring, or on who recalls theirs first. Go! Accelgor!”

“Go! Krokorok!” she shouted. Alder raised his brow. The girl was a bit young to have a krokorok. They must have been training pretty hard if it’s already evolved, too. The krokorok looked back at the girl, then to accelgor. Accelgor’s tassels waved in the open air.

“Accelgor! Bug Buzz!” A sphere of air pushed as Accelgor’s tassels vibrated, pushing the krokorok towards the edge of the ring. Accelgor was strong, but it often misjudged its own power, putting many opponents’ pokemon in the hospital in dire straits. The challenge of the gym was as much a problem for him as his opponents; what good was power if you couldn’t control it?

“Krokorok, dig!” The krokorok dug into the ground. Accelgor knew the trick, and began moving, looking to avoid the krokorok’s hit.

The opponent broke out of the ground where the accelgor had been, dashing towards it.

“Accelgor, ‘Me First!’”

“Krokorok, sand blast!”

The two pokemon sprayed each other with sand and clay. Accelgor was on the edge of the ring. Krokorok was approaching the accelgor again.

“Krokorok, Tackle!” Kate shouted.

Tackle? Alder mused. Clever, going for a ring-out.

“Accelgor, Body Slam!” By the time he’d shouted, however, the krokorok was already on top of his pokemon, who was pushed out of the ring.

Quicker than I expected.

Accelgor hadn’t gotten used to its latest evolution yet. He looked back at his little audience, the swadloon with their permanent frowns sitting in the Gym’s backyard tree behind them. It probably wasn’t the best idea to show his volcarona to a bunch of wild swadloons he’d only had for a day, but the girl’s whole team still remained. He wanted to knock at least one or two out of the ring before giving the girl her badge.

“Accelgor, return,” he called. That red flash of light, and the accelgor was on his belt. He clapped. “Well done, Kate,” he said. Krokorok returned to its trainer’s side.

“Next up, I’m going to pull out volcarona,” he told the girl. “The rules are still the same, but you’ll want to take a minute and give your pokemon a drink of water. There’s a faucet with a bucket behind you that I leave out for trainers. Give them all a good drink.”

“Yes, Leader,” she said, her krokorok following her to the faucet.

He clicked the pokeball and released his oldest friend, who floated next to him, hints of gold glinting in the sun. One of the swadloon fell off their branch from the unexpected heatwave.

“Cool,” he said, the body heat of the moth immediately pulling in. He examined his friend’s fuzz, rolling his hand over its with soft brushing motions. Kate did as she was told, filling the bucket with water and letting her krokorok drink, then filling it some more and having each of her pokemon take a drink.

To Alder, having power didn’t mean hurting and punishing or even controlling. It was freedom. He folded his legs and sat on the ground, letting his friend rest its wings as it laid across his lap. He pet its abdominal fuzz as it lay, face down, glints of gold shimmering. He inspected its head. Volcarona was shivering. The fur on its face between the eyes was falling off in small flakes of gold. The moth was warm to the touch, rather than hot.

“Alder, why is there gold on its wings?” The girl asked as she returned with a bucket full of water. He turned to its wings, and sure enough, on his right side, the wings had slashes of gold. A single touch and they flaked off. More concerned, he turned his pokemon over. It was faint, but the fuzz on the front was turning gold as well. He clicked Volcarona’s pokeball.

“I’m sorry, Kate, but I must go, Volcarona’s sick. By the withdrawal rule, you have earned your mastery badge,” he said, throwing out another pokeball.

“Braviary! Go!” He said, jumping upon the bird’s back, dropping the Castelia gym badge to the ground.

“Fly! To the Pokemon Center!” he shouted. Braviary lifted off, flapping its huge wings, cawing in acknowledgment, taking them across the city.

Plowing through the loitering trainers, he let his volcarona out in the pokecenter lobby. “Something’s wrong, she’s deathly sick,” he said to the startled nurse, the volcarona trying to pick up and fly, but rolling on the ground instead, a gash appearing on the moth's sizable thorax, lined with gold flakes which floated off, more gashes of his moth's fuzz turning turning of gold flakes falling off its wings as well.

“Of course, Alder,” the Nurse said, calling the chansey forward and pulling out a gurney. He put his hand on his best friend. “Shhh, stay still,” he said, the bug alternating between heaves and shivers, flakes of gold puffing into his face and on the floor, half its wings covered in a golden crust. That night, Alder closed the gym, only returning to feed the swadloons and move them inside, seemingly content to sit under a sunroof on an indoor tree and wrestle amongst themselves.

The nurse would call him, and tell him that his best friend was healed, only to find the flakes return, dissolving at the slightest touch or movement. They called everyone they could. Professor Juniper, doctors from Sinnoh, Kanto, and even Hoenn. No one could help. The flakes would disappear, but eventually, they would return.

That week, he practically lived at the pokecenter, the inevitable drawing nearer, each new nurse and doctor saying, “I’m not sure, we’ve done what we could.”

Another week later, the nurse walked in and the bad news finally came. “I’m sorry, Alder,” she said. “Take her home, give her some good food, but there’s nothing more we can do.”

Tears in his eyes, he hugged his bug, called it into his pokeball, and went home. In his little cottage, he fed the bug the best berries he could.

Twenty-four hours later, she was buried in the ground. Planting flowers over the grave, he returned to the gym and sent a message to the professor.

“Send the boy. They can stay at the gym while I’m gone, but I must go.”

In moments, the professor responded.

“Of course, Alder. We will be there right away.”

 

[zoru22]

~~~ Chapter 18 - Bonk ~~~​

Dear Lyra,

I hear you had fun reading the images and scans I sent you! Don’t let the archaeology department’s stodgy behavior get to you. That old dean and the stick up his ass will be proven the fool they are. Though, don’t read too much into the text. You know this already, but we have to be careful not to insert ourselves and project our views on the past. We are prone to do it, even when we only understand a slim part of the greater story. Even if the text means what it says, it doesn't mean that’s what really happened. I’ve seen otherwise rational people lose reality to their own biases this way. Don’t be one of them.

Soon, I will be joining the forward archaeology group to progress through Mount Coronet. The strong magnetic field of the mountain is already being felt, and while our pokedexes and equipment are all hardened, getting a signal is becoming more and more difficult. We're not even inside the ruins themselves, and we can already feel the distortion in the air. Though we will be accompanied by many trainers, it is getting dangerous. I'm sure you of all people already know this, but wild ghosts are drawn to the distortion like durants are to sugar. There’s no knowing what’s waiting inside or at the top, but as Colress likes to say, "at all costs, I must learn."

Your friend and mentor,

Doctor Hanlay

p.s. - The last pictures I took are attached. Don’t share until I return. Happy translating!

p.p.s. - I’ve sent my recommendation for you to Dr. Lenora in Nacrene city. As much as ever, field archaeologists need to be trainers. I urge you to leave Opelucid city and begin tutelage under her as soon as possible.

~~~​

Lanky, Alder and Professor Cedric had their conversation. I tuned them out, soaking in the sheer size of the room. The arena was quite large: more than ten trees scattered about the edges of the room, plotted around in the hardened clay and dirt, sunroofs providing myself and the plants plenty of natural light. Evidence of swadly's long-term stay here was hard to miss. Little plants were sprouting from between the trees. The ceiling had to be at least four stories high, walls made of thick concrete. Paradoxically, the walls seemed to absorb vibrations, scents and tastes, even with the vaulted ceiling which seemed to run up for hundreds of feet. At least, it went up until everything but the most bright or most dark objects were blurry. With magic walls muffling the outside world, coupled with the trees on the very edges of the arena, the noise of the outside city was present, but just a dull hum.

In this room, it was spartan. Just a clay floor, a large arena in the center that was approximately the size of a football field. There was no place for a crowd or onlookers, either. No stands or places to watch the fights. Across from us on a row of trees, I could see the splashes of the various swadly's yellows, watching us. I approached their perches. A single hose of water was running, hooked to a line that ran until it blurred into the roof. I’d be surprised if it wasn’t an automated watering system, but the fact the swadlies sat on this particular tree was probably no coincidence. I bent over to take a drink, when they jumped down and landed on me, toppling me over, chirping and pushing one another over in their spree to jump on me again. I rolled over letting them bounce on the leaf covering the underside of my abdomen as they clicked in annoyance, as if to accuse me—"You left us!"

They wouldn't have been wrong, either.

"Elleee aaa," I moaned out loud, letting them continue grumping. I pulled one up to my thorax in a hug. It struggled, not knowing what I was doing. A red flash, and Leaf walked over, four of the swadlies deciding to bully him now too. He didn’t take as kindly to it as I did, though. Their leaf coverings were thinning, holes and pockmarks, presumably from fights, or just general wear and tear. They clearly weren’t getting the same exercise Leaf had, and were much smaller than he had been, even a week ago. I let the one I was holding in my arms go, and it just sat on my thorax, rubbing their arms together, not unlike how I rubbed my blades. Its coat was in shambles, and a part of me practically screamed they needed new leaf-blankets to wear, patches, necklaces, and leaf-stickers were on the menu for my little nest-mates, apparently.

I clicked, a new plan beginning to form. First, they needed new leaf-capes. The professor had left, Alder taking Lanky through a hallway, showing my inexperienced trainer around and through the rest of the building as I pulled down leaves off the trees to take care of the forgotten swadlies. Leaf took the cue as well, and together, we got to work. A couple of hours of sewing and patching later, the swadlies were all patched up and their leaf-blankets good as new, integrating with their bodies.

Leafy was looking at me, then back at himself, trying to build the leaves around his thorax. He had the right idea, but the chunks were too small. My plan, if I hadn’t met Cebi and received my armor for free, was to craft big leaf-sheets, and wrap them around each section, attaching them to my carapace nearest to the joints as much as I could.

So, for him, that’s what I did. I pulled leaves off a nearby tree, gluing them together in one big sheet. He and the rest of the swadlies gathered into a clump under the light of the high-above sunroof, observing my process. It took a lot of leaves just to cover his thorax. To cover the underside of his abdomen like mine would need a lot more leaves, so he’d have to wait a bit. It was probably a bad idea to strip all the leaves off of the indoor trees.

When Lanky came back, Alder had gone, and the two of us were alone. The kid stood for a minute watching us work, before fiddling with his metal jar again. Leafy’s thorax-armor plate front and back sewn together and attached, he stretched, moving this way and that, pushing on me again. Not able to say no to a challenge, I pushed back. He was lasting longer through each tussle, but it was still only moments before he fell again.

Lanky had given up on whatever that container had been and called us over, setting ten bowls of berries out as he pulled out a sandwich of his own. The swadlies practically ran at the smell. Unfortunately, their stubby legs weren’t faster than mine or Leaf’s, even walking. I took the end, Leafy took my left, and we all ate, the berries spilling about. I speared mine. Swadlies slopped theirs. I smelled, however, Leafy’s growing annoyance at their spilling and waste. When a berry hit him in the face, he could take it no more, and bapped the one to his left on the head, who looked at him, confused and offended. Smells from bugs rolled a lot faster than humans.

Leaf looked at me, as if to say, "Look at how Leah does it!" To provide his own example, he took a slower, deliberate scoop. He was still sloppy, but more berries made it to his mouth than the ground, which was an improvement over the swadlies.

We’re dignified bugs! I could imagine him saying. Learn some manners! He had been a messy swadly himself. Perhaps he'd been picked by the professor because he was bigger and older?

The irritation exuded off him, and I could taste my own amusement. The swadly next to him, and even the one on the other end, got the clue and slowed down. The other six scooped spilled berries and fought over the ones that made it to the ground.

Lanky stood up then, and called for Leaf and I. The swadlies followed me, Leaf naturally falling in step in back. Lanky looked at them. "What?" I wanted to ask, clicking. They’re more our problem than yours! I clicked again.

We approached a pair of big metal doors, and lanky pushed on them, leading us into a backyard court. Cars in the distance, the call of a boat horn, the taste of salt. The general rumblings of human life. Here, however, was a small, private outdoor park. Surrounded by big buildings on three sides, we still had a private area approximately thrice the size of the inside of the gym to ourselves, layers of trees, protecting us from the noise and hustle and bustle of the greater concrete jungle.

Trees surrounded the edges, a bucket and a faucet by the building. A tall concrete fence surrounded it all. I was confident I could climb it if needed, but it seemed meant to keep intruders out more than occupants in. Or, perhaps, a protection of outsiders from stray hyper beams? Back here, there were a lot more trees than inside, soothing us from the vibrations of the world around us. Lanky was talking, but he wasn’t saying anything specific, so it didn’t really matter. The door shut behind us, and we went out, exploring the trees. It had a good variety. In my past life, trees in cities were known to trigger allergies especially badly during pollination season, but the clear variety told me they had no such problem here.

Lanky moved to stand in the center, watching us roam about. He had eight pokeballs on his belt now, but he’d not used a single one. For emergencies? Were there catching limits? I know that Team Plasma from black 2 had wanted to try and take away pokemon at one point. And well, catching and carrying limits would be one of the easiest places to limit trainers holding pokemon.

I hopped into one tree and pulled a bunch of leaves. Leaf saw what I was doing and joined. The swadlies watched us, content to nap and soak in the full summer sun. Leaves covering our backsides already meant half the armor for that was done. With two of us working, the new underside plating was done in no time at all, though the silk strained under the weight. I pushed on Leaf, who pushed back. "No, not like that." I clicked, vocalizing. I laid down and rolled over, my abdomen pointed up. I gestured with my leaf-arms, pointing, trying to show Leaf what I wanted him to do.

Leaf took the clue and did as I suggested. Like a blanket, I pulled it over his abdomen and sewed it onto the underside of the existing leaf, forming a soft shell and cutting slits in it to let air pass through. Next, all that was left of his armor was his own helmet and skirt. He could do that himself, and I was running out of silk, I could feel it.

I made to move to the faucet. Lanky saw where I was headed, and turned it on for me. So nice! He’d been getting a lot better at anticipating what I wanted. After I drank, he filled the bucket for us as well. As we relaxed out in the sun and Lanky looked at his pokedex, several ideas and plans began to form. The swadly Leaf had bonked at lunch walked up—I think I’ll call them Bonk, at least for now. Bonk looked at Lanky and I, then the water. Bonk was thirsty.

Lanky groaned, putting the pokedex away, lying on his back in the middle of the dirt and clay arena, his bangs covering his eyes from the sun. I picked up Bonk. Holding him on the flat of my blade, I bent down and let him drink from the bucket. When he was done, I continued holding him as we approached Lanky. The kid had left their midsection undefended, and that just would not do. I dropped Bonk right on his gut, and he heaved, gasping for air, eyes wide from the surprise.

Bonk ran off to the trees and their other siblings. It was good to have a rest day and just take care of ourselves, having a little fun. Swadlies were wrestling with Leaf, who, while much stronger than any one swadly, was having trouble standing with four of them hanging off him, being extremely careful not to slice them with his own blades.

Lanky was looking at me as I stood watching Leaf. He started heaving and laughing, grasping his own midsection in pain, he rolled over. Good. He got the joke. A boat horn sounded in the distance. Life was moving forward.

While looking at the strong tree branches, at Lanky, and back at the trees, I remembered the park. The first piece of territory I have ever fought for. I thought about being a human kid at a park. The pressure built. I would need thick, strong rope for this one, so I held it in as I approached the branch, Lanky recovering from his laughter. I climbed the tree, pulling a piece of long, thick silk out. My silk stores weren’t full enough to go all the way down, but it was enough that a swadly could fit on it. I attached the first piece, looping it down. I let a couple meters more out, then when the stores ran dry, looped the end around, a few feet apart from the attachment point.

My two favorite pieces at the park had been the merry-go-rounds and the swings. And well, building a merry-go-round was out of my abilities. A swing though? Bug-type pokemon were MADE to make swings. So long as they could modulate their silk like I could. I gave it a test, poking my foot on it. It stretched. I rested more weight down on the new swing. It stretched some more, but it held. It was too small for Leaf and I, but a swadly?

Unfortunately, none of the other bugs seemed to know what I had made, so no one gave it a spin. So, I picked up Bonk, and didn’t give him a choice. He…didn’t get it, and promptly fell off, using his blanket like a parachute/glider to direct the fall. Internally, I sighed. This endeavor was going to be harder than I thought. We continued rolling around for a bit, playing and napping, and tending to the flowers as lanky threw his tennis ball at the wall, bouncing back and catching it.

His aim had most definitely gotten better over the last few weeks. The sun was going down, and Lanky called us inside, where we ate dinner. I sat at the end again. Leaf, guiding Bonk, in the art of the scoop, himself having figured out how to bend his foreblade into something that made less of a mess. Finished, and with the sun going down, Lanky pulled out his sleeping bag and pillow. They had no cots here?

Leaf and I guided the swadlies to their tree. As predicted, the water line had turned off. I tried to sleep in a tree. But the roar of the city finally eventually entered my senses again, the sound and vibrations, the motion around the ocean, begging for greater investigation. I waited, the light of the city sky filtering from the sunroofs above. When Lanky had put away his pokedex for a good hour or so and seemed to be asleep. I crept down. "Thump" sounded behind me, followed by eight more. "Thumpthump thump thump-thumpthump-thumpump." I looked back at my followers, following me, single file toward the great metal doors. I glanced at Lanky, who was out like a light.

I pushed on the bar on the door, it creaked and clicked.

I glanced at Lanky, who was still sleeping.

I pushed on the door, another click.

Lanky was still sleeping.

I pushed harder.

Lanky was still sleeping.

I reduced my pressure on the door. It clicked shut once more.

I looked back to Lanky, who was still sleeping.

I let go of the bar on the door, it clicked one last time and slid back into place.

The door was locked.

Defeated, all ten of us went back to our tree and ruminated. When I finally drifted off to sleep, it was to visions of ten bugs marching down the street.

Buum buum buum bum-bum-bum.

~~~​

 

[zoru22]

Spoiler: Chapter Content Warning

WARNING: Massive spoilers, only read if you consider yourself sensitive.
Please.

Spoiler

- Recreational/Wholesome-ish drug use.

What happens is not substance abuse, and this fic will not feature substance abuse. However topics surrounding the use of drugs may come up again in future chapters.

If you buy cats cat-nip, or have ever used marijuana, this is similar.

~~~ Chapter 19 - Lakeside ~~~

The lakeside child
In weather mild
Upon a chair
At water stared

His father's hair
No thoughts in there
Forgot the heir
Kid doesn’t care

His mother's sleep
He couldn't end
So to the deeps
He stole a peep

The lakeside three
Drowned on land
Broke the creed
So we ran​

- Children’s Playground Rhyme​

~~~​

Hours after failing our little attempt to explore the city at night, I roused myself from torpor. The sun wasn’t yet showing through the glass in the ceiling. Lanky, Leaf and the swadlies were still soundly sleeping. I hopped off the tree, silently landing and approaching the kid sleeping in his sleeping bag, resting upon the dirt and clay floor.

My silk had replenished after dinner, as it tended to do after eating. I prepared a strand for a craft that would take a couple days. The pressure built. Holding it in, I coaxed the mix and modulated it for the thickest and strongest silk-rope I could make. Since it would refill after breakfast, I wasn’t concerned about using it before the day started. The tradeoff would be a little extra hunger along the way. One of the benefits of having consistent meals and not needing to forage. I let out a piece of rope, mixed to be low-stick, about the thickness of my upper arm.

I tied it to the tree’s largest branch, looping it around and not letting it hang. The strand was about the length of Lanky’s leg. If he didn’t have a bed, it would take a few days, but I could at least give him a homemade hammock.

Short cries cawed from outside, waking Leaf. Lanky and the swadlies seemingly slept through it all. Leaf walked over to where I was, observing the long strand of rope I’d wrapped around the limb of the tree. It was, to be fair, much thicker than normal silk, and my body was responding to the desire and use I had in mind.

I was beginning to get hungry again, as if my body had said, "Time to replace that mass".

The room had two pairs of doors: the ones we had tried and failed to exit through before which led outdoors; and the other ones, which led to a hall, presumably to the front door or things like bathrooms and other human amenities. I pressed on the door, the one that led to the hallway, the one Lanky and Alder had both gone down earlier. It clicked open. Leaf joined my side, and together we explored the hall. I could taste Leaf’s desire to play. With the lights off, and the room lit only by streetlights from small glazed windows, we walked. The tile had small indents on it, clearly textured for grip. Whoever built this hall had been thinking of pokemon used to trees. Like me! I could smell the taste of nutrients and fertilizer, a small hint of chlorine, alcohol disinfectant, phosphates from detergents and soaps.

There was a countertop on the side opposite the arena we’d just exited. Nestled in was a concessions stand, and a metal gate blocked our way in. My mouth watered at the smell of rich soil and berries. I climbed up and tried to shimmy the locks a bit, drooling at the thought of some good soil. What? I’m a grass type, I’ve got literal plants living in my body. I can taste it in the air when soil rich in the nutrients I need is in front of me. The mechanism wouldn’t budge. There had to be another way in.

We were in a wide and tall one-way hall that followed the concrete wall of the battle-room we slept in. Leaf used his body-weight to push on me, pressing me into the wall. I felt a rhythmic vibration in the next room, echoing with reverberation. I pushed him back, he stumbled and I thwacked Leaf on the forehead. The rhythmic vibrations of music grew clearer. Lockers, bathrooms and showers. A couple doors had no handles, just spots for keys. Probably utility closets.

The air smelled like berries, dried berries, sweat, and Alder. Mostly Alder, as if he had been the only person who used the locker room. Leaf took an interest in the smell of soaps and shampoo in the shower. I eyed the locker mechanisms up close, splashes of water sounding on the other side of the door, moving along with the rhythm of the beat. I smelled the sweat of old gym clothing and my prize: a pack of dried berries. I couldn’t see it, but I smelled it. It was behind this locker door. Raising the pointier end of my left blade, staring up close at the twisty lock and the little joint. I poked my arm in. A drip of saliva fell to the bench. A little bit of pressure, pulling in my barbs, and my little tarsus compressed into the small cavity.

These latches were designed against using credit cards to brute force them open. Not pokemon.

Leaf knocked the bottle of liquid conditioner to the ground. It was the source of the smell of berries. Another drip of drool of mine fell to the ground at the smell. It probably wasn’t the best idea to eat the stuff, but I’d never heard of dogs getting poisoned by shower conditioner. What about bugs? Well, Leaf volunteered to be the lab-bug.

He scooped his blade in it, then pulled it to his mouth, sliding the goop off, tasting it. Couldn’t blame him if he was as hungry as me.

I jimmied my blade in, using a bit of dexterity to twist it under the latch. I stepped on another drop of drool. Leaf hadn’t gagged. The bottle dripped its contents to the ground, forming a small puddle. Leaf grew impatient, stomping on it with his full force, a lot more spraying out. A small line of red goop hit me in the legs, dripping down where I stood.

The music stopped.

I jimmied my little pick a bit, trying my luck.

"Oi!", a human shouted.

I jumped, Leaf startled on the smooth bathroom tile, slipped and fell over, landing in the small puddle of cherry-conditioner. I slipped off the bench, my arm and hardened blade hooked into the latch.

"Eee!" I cried in surprise as my vision turned to television noise in the outline of shifting leaves.

The fluorescent lights of the locker room turned on, my vision swam in leaves and noise.

"Aey", I heard Lanky say, from the other side. I got to my feet again, tasting mine and Leaf’s and embarrassments already emanating. I pulled my feet closer together and pushed on the bench, pushing up. A click. The locker door swung open. I fell onto the floor, nursing my pinched forelimb, covering my abdomen and good tarsus in the sweet cherry-flavored conditioner. Rolling on the floor, drooling, I opened my mouth and took a small lick of the cherry goop.

The other human started gagg—I mean laughing. He was laughing at us. An old man with gray skin and dark black hair with the touch of a gray beard was laughing at us.

I tried to stand up, and slipped again. I tried to use my arm to steady myself—"Eee!" I cried, the pinch stinging once more. Lanky talked to the janitor as he reached out his hand, grabbing my good forearm and helping me stand up. He closed the locker I’d opened, guiding me into the shower. My partner in crime had returned to eating the conditioner. Lanky took the bottle away, setting it atop the heads at the center of the shower.

Leaf ignored him, his face covered in dripping red goop as he knelt, using his leaves to scoop up as much off the ground as he could. My saliva screamed for more. I scooped another of the cherry-flavor, but decided at the last second to wait a bit more. I wanted real berries!

Lanky left, telling us to stay there. The janitor had come in, dropping towels on the door to the exit of the shower. I tried to rinse off, but I wasn’t great at scrubbing. The small, fuzz-like barbs that got the conditioner on them didn’t have the tension they should. I didn’t eat the stuff, no matter how much I salivated. Well, okay that was a lie. I had a little bit. We didn’t have gag reflexes, but his abdomen’s convulsing was making a good case for his stomach rejecting it. He opened his mouth and the red stuff was spewing back out, washing away in the water.

Lanky came back with his pokedex, only wearing a pair of shorts and sandals. He looked at me, sitting in the water, next to Leaf. We looked like we’d just had a bit too much to drink from bar-hopping through a night on the town. He started with high-pitched, soft hiccups, then erupted into boisterous, echoing laughter.

With Lanky’s help, we got all the conditioner that covered us off. It took a bit and some water, and Leaf seemed to recover all right? At least, the convulses didn’t shake his whole body. He just laid down in the water, only slightly moving. My leaves and barbs felt way too soft and greasy. After a couple more ejections from Leaf, with Lanky checking his pokedex and looking at the bottle of conditioner several times, he seemed satisfied that Leaf and I weren’t about to die.

Janitor-man had come in and wiped down the mess outside the shower, placing down a yellow sign which undoubtedly said "wet floor". He started laughing. Lanky started snickering too, then both were bursting with laughter at us.

Ha. Ha. I cried inside.

Everything seemed fine. We were slipping as we left the showers. Lanky called out from the exit of the lockers, then stepped in himself. I decided a wet leavanny just wasn’t made for locker floors, and sat, pulling my queasy companion down, also next to the door. Leaf sat and stared at the ceiling.

I scooted on my ass to the bench, pulling off a towel, drying myself off as I sat down, careful to nurse the sore tarsus on my forearm. Old Man Janitor-man stepped in, talking to Lanky, grabbing a couple towels. I continued to dry myself as he lifted up the dazed Leaf, his abdomen still quivering.

Lanky turned off the shower and hopped out himself, grabbing a towel tossed to him by the old man as they talked, chuckling.

Dried off, I tried to stand up. And slipped. Even on the wet floor, the shower and locker room tile wasn’t made for us bugs. Janitor-man set the towels on the ground to the front exit of the lockers.

Lanky told us to stay, left and returned with eight bowls of berries, said to stay again, then took them to the other room. Well, he was really telling me to stay. Didn’t look like Leaf was about to move from his spot any time soon. It was nice to have another Leavanny. One who could take the hit. But my saliva still wasn’t satisfied, evidenced by its dripping on the floor even more.

Fully dressed for the day, Lanky looked at his pokedex again, the bottle of conditioner again. Lanky then… tested his pocket for a second, pulling out keys, his wallet, and.. Pokedex. Putting them back, he picked up Leaf, holding him like you’d hold a baby, folding the dazed leavanny’s arms in. Opening the door to the bathroom, he motioned for me to come, the old man holding me by the tarsus on my right arm, helping me cross the bathroom tile as I slipped and slid.

We three exited the gym through its heavy front doors, leaving janitor-man behind. Out into the rising morning in the waking city, the two of us walked. I only slipped on the pavement once! That conditioner stripped my ability to grip.

Wingull circled in the sky in the distance, buildings much too tall towered overhead, people on bikes and blades were rolling. People in suits holding coffee took glances, made faces, then looked away. We started heading west. My vision wobbled a bit, and my abdomen grumbled, but nothing happened.

A jogger lady with a herdier on a leash stopped and smiled as it chose to yip at us. A man in a suit walking a liepard, also on a leash, secretly gave Lanky the finger. We walked south along the street for a few blocks. Lanky paused, pulled out his dex, changing the arms he held the sick Leaf, small spurts of cherry-berry conditioner occasionally leaking out from the bug’s mouth. Something with the conditioner must have happened that made putting the bug into a pokeball risky endeavors.

A couple people waved. One shouted. The number of people on the streets began to increase, Lanky picked up his pace. It took a bit, and the sun had crossed the horizon, but we had finally made it to the pokecenter. It was… it was maybe two stories tall? And about the same width as any other building? The only thing that made it stand out was the giant pokeball hung up front.

Being in the city, I… I expected it to be bigger. Going through the glass doors, I was assaulted by the smell of sadness. One person sat on a bench in the front, a young girl with brown hair, dressed in a black sundress. Sat on a bench. I smelled berries coming from her. Her feet barely touched the floor. The slight sense of saline said she was crying. Lanky went up to the counter, where a nurse took Leaf from his arms into a back room.

The walls were shifting nice and red. I liked red. I sat next to the girl with the berries, trying to hold in my drool. Lanky looked at me, sitting at the edge of the bench, next to my new source of berries. Lanky motioned for me to join him on the other bench. My abdomen was growling now. A grumpy rumbling.

The girl looked me in the eyes, the smell of sadness ceasing for a moment. She talked to lanky who responded, unease in the air. She kept her eyes on mine. Her hair swam in the nice shape of reddening leaves.

She pulled out and tossed into my mouth, a berry. I ate it. Finally! Able to swallow my saliva, I downed that berry. She put her hand on my head. This close I could more easily tell: she was smiling.

That was nice.

Unfortunately for her, that was the last of the patience my abdomen had.

It heaved straight, launching me off the bench and onto the ground of the pokecenter. The girl squealed a short scream in surprise.

I fell to the ground, kneeling, guts convulsing, insides momentarily making a very strong case that they needed a trip outside.

"S- Be f-! T- bottle isn’t toxic!" Lanky said. I clicked, then convulsed again. The fluorescent lights in the room turned red.

"Isn’t toxic? Look at h-!" She shouted, gasping for air, holding her heart to her chest, pulling her legs back.

"Not blood!" He said, a smooth wave of anger-guilt washing off. "Promise!"

The nurse who took Leaf started talking, I could taste his amusement as he chuckled. "‘S psy-ic aph- bugs. Start salivating at th- vry taste of it in t- ir, eat it n get h- to t- ky after ejecting t- cont-ts of th- st-ch." More red drool leaked out of my face. Their red fur looked good on the nurse.

I clicked, trying to stand up. I looked at Lanky. I recognized that hair now. I knew that face. Burgh, I wanted to say, staggering forward to him. "Eeeulny" came out, as I. The nurse stepped forward, drawing close.

"Cmeer," he’d said, motioning me, leaves in the ground and leaves in the air. I could taste the red of the fur. A little red leavanny. In a little red world in a big red city in a big red pokenter. With a nurse all covered in bristling red leaves and fur.

My vision rolled in red leaves, dark flashes of red veins throbbing, my antennae twitching at the taste of red. "Rdy t-," I could hear. "Didn’t knu—", Lanky-Burch complained, the nurse picking me up, dripping red over his smock.

The hallway wasn’t white fluorescent this time, at least. I could feel the red, the leaves shifting in and out. Eggs. Lots and lots of eggs, birds I beat the birds back with the shades of leaves and bread of eggs.

The nurse and eyes flashing highlights of grays and red. Looking down at me, setting me on the table. "T- is w- we don’t ant- pokemon," they smiled, their red-furred smocks shifting in red leaves. Another nurse came over, smiling and laughing. Was that a red seel?

I saw my red Leafy friend, already walking out. A maroon light shone in my eyes.

The feel of red left first. The shifting, red and fuzzy touch too. The endless taste of cherries began to fade. Another convulsion, all that came out was spittle. The man-nurse pulled up a small hose, holding me over a sink, spraying my mouth, washing it out. Smiling, red smiling silence.

"Z- yi t-," softly and slowly on the counter, they sat me up, speaking their standard nonsense, I’d stopped hearing red. My tarsus wasn’t sore. I wasn’t hearing red any more. I was already salivating when he dropped a real cherry into my mouth. Watching me and with a hand held softly on my abdomen, he spoke soothing words. When I didn’t fall to the floor convulsing, he let off my abdomen and wiped the table of drips of red and ichor off the floor and table.

Happy I’d returned to normal, I chowed down.

That was scary, I thought. Finishing my berries and the topping of soil, they gave me another serving, then allowed me to walk through the cursed, fluorescent hallway. The guy took me out to the lobby. The girl had gone.

On the bench, Lanky sat, a small backpack on his lap. Leaf sat still next to the kid. The taste of the city vibrations and ocean air returned. Lanky looked at me. A red flash, and Leaf was in his pokeball. In Lanky’s hand was a backpack. He motioned for me to come over as a nurse-lady giggled. He slipped it on me and cinched it tight.

That’s nice, Lanky, but— He had a leash in hand.

I groaned. Lanky held out my pokeball, as if to say, "Would you rather?" Had the police told him to get a leash?

Pokemon don’t get to run free in the city.

 

[zoru22]

~~~ Chapter 20 - Protective ~~~​

After years of training, battling and building relationships with their partners, pokemon impress themselves on their trainers, and vice-versa. Trainers take styles that mirror the color schemes of their prized pokemon. The reason for this is obvious to the onlooker: humans have proclivities for certain behaviors and preferences, which they may choose to cater their team around. Or, the trainers may choose a pokemon and later exhibit traits similar to their pokemon. Additionally, most trainers keep their first pokemon through their entire career, long after they decide that battles will be an exercise and hobby. In this series, we ask, “What areas of human traits are influenced by their pokemon?” and explore the available research examining these effects, across three categories: Physical, Mental and Temperamental.

The first in this series of metastudies, we will be performing a shallow overview of a portion of freely-available studies and their data, examining the physical category. The full series will cover known research from the last hundred years on pokemon, trainers, and the effects of pokemon on their trainers and vice-versa.

We cover thirty-two papers from the Scientific Unovan’s public catalogue, dated within the last two years and covering 1,328 trainers from Hoenn, Unova, and Kanto regions: five region champions or equivalent, thirteen different Elite Four members or equivalent, sixteen gym leaders or equivalent, seven-hundred rangers or equivalents, and a remainder comprised of hobbyists or retired trainers.

Seventy-percent of trainers surveyed held at least three gym badges or equivalent. For this overview, we specifically excluded studies which are not available for free. We catalogued trainers and pokemon based on a pair of popular categorizations. Later papers will discuss the newer methods. All comparisons of trainers are versus non-trainers, hereafter referred to as “baseline” or “baseline humans”. All data has been averaged.

Trainers with primary-water-type teams do not swim notably faster than baseline swimmers, but do exhibit 20% more lung capacity across all breathing metrics and wade 80% longer. They do not shiver in water at 19 C, versus 22 C being the median temperature at which people shiver at baseline. Additionally, they consume 7% more water on average throughout their day. Similar to baseline, they do not process ocean water. Further data on saltwater tolerance was limited and sample sizes too small.

Similarly striking comparisons are discussed: Ghost, Psychic and Dark trainers are more tolerant to Distortion. Ice trainers withstand significantly lower temperatures in both water and air. Electric trainers exhibit up to 17% faster reaction times.

Trainers who take so-called “balanced” teams exhibit some traits suggestive of their starter, but the effects are significantly reduced. Children of trainers of pokemon may exhibit some of these traits. Data on the heritability of these effects is limited for this paper, if slightly indicative that these abilities are not all latent.

Something is clearly happening here. By what mechanisms are these effects occurring? Is it exposure to your pokemon? Or being forced to interact more closely to elements that cause the body to adapt? Some data was excluded, such as those evaluating mental capabilities and temperaments. We leave those to be evaluated in a future paper.

Lastly, we propose some theories, proposing methods for testing each, and end with that familiar call: “further study is required.”

~~~​

What was I supposed to do?

Get in the pokeball? Make a mad dash for it? Not like I could if I tried. I wasn’t going to give up on Lanky yet, either. But yeah, no running out of this place. That conditioner really destroyed my grip on tile, even ones made for pokemon. I’d just wind up sliding around. And since that grip hadn’t recovered, if Lanky wanted to go into another building it wasn’t like I could waltz around on my own without looking like a complete klutz.

A pair of people walked into the pokecenter lobby together, glancing at me, snickering at the backpack as Lanky clicked some last straps across my chest. A patrat sat in one’s shirt pocket, watching us. I held in a gurgling, grumbling moan that was coming from the lungs in my guts. It was my air sacs instead of my stomachs, at least. Lanky finished with the pair of straps now crossing. I couldn’t just compress my thorax, wiggle my arms, and get it off—my abdomen was too large and I wasn’t about to try to compress my head.

The crowds outside had really picked up. Lanky held my arm as I slipped to the door. The pokecenter tile from train town several weeks prior hadn’t been this bad. Pushed towards the glass doors we made our way out. Relieved to be back on the concrete, the sun had risen by quite a bit. From the building’s shadows, we caught the reflection of the sun as it bounced between the windows of the skyscrapers on either side of the street. It was probably a trick of the angles; the sun seemed to reach well over the eastern horizon and into the morning sky, giving me a buzz from the extra energy as chlorophyll began to recharge.

The taste of grilling meat wafted through the air. A food stand had opened. Instinct was not incensed, the thought of eating meat somewhat repulsive. Smells of coffees and chocolates and donuts, birds roosting on the tops of signs, waiting for bread to be bought and dropped. Rings of voices, phones and bells on bikes. Lanky tugged. A balding man tossed a half-bagel in the air. Birds dove in.

I took a breath and shuffled a few steps away from the door.

A man dressed in a black shirt held a tv camera on their shoulders, turning to point it at us, before rotating back. A man in red and green stood in front, black and grey stick in hand, looking into the camera. A lady rolled up to the highrise across the street on their bike.

The bagel was snatched; didn’t hit the height of its arc. Lanky tugged again, I shuffled a couple steps more. The biker stepped off and the bike collapsed into an impossibly tight cylindrical shape. Picking it up, she went inside the tall building. A kid tried to grab my leaf as they passed by while holding a bottle to their mouth with the other hand, pushed in a stroller threading through the morning crowd.

I rubbed my blades together. A car slowly inched down the street, trying to get through the pedestrians, most of whom ignored its presence. A pack of purple balloo—Lanky picked me up, clearly having enough, carrying me out of the dense packs of humans. It was hard to hear him through the unending stimuli. Most people seemed to ignore our presence now, though one or two people pulled out their phones and took a picture.

With Lanky’s smell so close, I breathed even again. It’s easy to get lost in the world when you’re barely a meter tall. We went straight south. Not running, but he was definitely speed-walking. The crowd thinned and buildings began to decrease in height. Finally outside of the endless vibrations, I loosened the muscles on my arms. Salt grew thick in the air and the buildings shifted, flashes of green and caws of seabirds floating about.

Lanky set me down, allowing me to stand on my own once we’d left the mess, talking in a smooth voice and rubbing me on the head. I looked out to the southern bay, he pulled out his phone. We were about twenty feet higher up from the sea, nearing a final downward slope which would take us to a marina of boats and docks, which was blocked by a tall metal fence, painted black.

While we rested, I thought of the red, the taste, and the vision of leaves and fur. It had been quite the trip. What had the doctor said? “It’d make me higher than the sky?” Or was I just high as the sky and my subconscious inserting things? I already tried to guess their intent. What was some auditory hallucination along the way?

Seafarers milled around some boats and small ships floating about. Far to the east, a large cargo ship left their port, colored in splotches of grays and red. Like—like the nurse’s fur. There—there was no way to tell if those memories were real, but I did have a test. Zoroark illusions. They go away with the first damaging hit. Well, at least they did in the games. I’d give that nurse a good poke and see if their illusion broke. If they did, then… Well, how do they speak? And how had they become a freaking nurse? Had they killed someone and taken over their life? Arceus, it’s Unova. How would I know if every human was real!?! Can ditto learn how to talk if they turn into a human? How many pokemon like Cebi are there?

A pair of pink and blue balloons floated about like lost baubles in the water, off to the side of a large blotchy sailing boat, their sails shrinking as what I presume they were rolling up after returning. Lanky spotted his target, and we went down. Sprinklers were spraying a strip of grass, the excess mist making a small stream running down a small concrete slope. The smell of fish was getting thick in the air.

I slid down the concrete slope, Lanky keeping me from going too fast with his hold on the rope. We had been up decently high, looking down on the boats and the docks of the small marina. Luckily, nothing seemed like it had a horn that could boom like a big cargo ship. Just sailing and fishing and leisure boats. Hints of yellow beaches further to the west glinted.

One last, short set of concrete stairs greeted us as we approached the black metal fence of the marina. The door had a little keypad and a twist-knob on it. Lanky stepped down, pulling out his pokedex again, as I watched some specks of birds float in circles far above the boats.

A short line of water shot into the air, and the gulls startled and warbled, one falling out of the air. I feel the deep bark of a dog howl like it had been laughing. The place definitely smelled of fish and birdshit. I couldn’t see but I could only guess that the water dog had hit its prey and had consumed it, judging by a short last squawk.

Lanky put away his phone, waving for me to come down as he began to press on the keys. The water of the marina that I couldn’t see was mostly blurred by large ships waving in the calm water. The rest was a dark blue, and the warming air from the city met with the flow from the ocean asserting a salty chill. We were about a hundred yards away from the docks now, and despite my estimation of the blurs of boats, well, they were a lot larger than I’d first thought and gathered.

My stomach quivered a bit, luckily nothing I’d eaten came back up. Birds had returned to their lazy circles.

Lanky fiddled with the panel, pressing buttons that clicked. Humans were moving about by the boat on the end where that large blue blob I assumed was the dog cast its shadow on the low-in-water boat. Moving stuff about, gray and blue boxes going off and on the blindingly white ship. Lanky was talking, well, grumbling really, taking too long as he fiddled with the pad. Tired of waiting, I walked up next to Lanky, reached up, and inserted my no-longer sore forelimb into the latching mechanism. The kid continued to focus on the pad, glancing back down at his phone, muttering. I slid the limb in and got a click. The metal door popped open. I clicked, relaxing my pose. Lanky just stared at me.

New Leavanny-exclusive HM: Lockpick.

Okay, I’m just abusing bad latch design, but still! Lanky looked at me and then back at the pad. I marched in.

Bitch, I’m a bug.

And was stopped when I was forcibly reminded that I was on a leash which had tugged tight.

Leah the Leavanny on a Leash.

It was probably a bad idea, but the lack of fear instincts of anything that wasn’t in the water told me I was okay; I looked around, angling to get a better view of the dog that shot the bird.

Could I hit a bird with one of my razor leaves?

Lanky finally stepped in and followed. We’d gone to this marina on purpose, I wasn’t going to let something stupid like a latch stop us. Crossing a last line of dirt, and back onto pavement, we were in. Fishermen milled about, a man was wrestling scuba tanks onto a boat, and most pokemon were not on their leashes. A wartortle sat in the sun, content to rest at the front crest of the diver’s blue boat.

We walked straight down to the docks, leaving land behind. My grip on the waxed wood wasn’t great, and the occasional puddle of water didn’t improve things either. The thought of falling, setting me on edge, I held close to the kid.

A large pelican-like pokemon dove in front of us, taking a big scoop of seawater. We stepped past the wartortle and the captain-diver securing their tanks. Lanky had pulled out his pokedex, scanning the turtle. How would anyone know if a pokemon was registered? The squirtle line seemed quite high-value compared to a bug like me. Regardless, a quick pause, we were ignored and continued through to the end.

Lanky put away the pokedex, deciding this was apparently the right marina for our current goal. We continued our trek, further out onto the dock, the slight shift of the waves becoming more apparent. The dock had been tapering lower, meeting the ocean water. I stole a glance over the edge, the dark water flashed with silvery blue, hinting at things deep below. I returned to Lanky’s leg, slightly slipping.

I was glad to be attached, I decided as I recovered.

Lanky did not notice my lack of grip, himself slightly wobbling with the docks, not being used to uncertain ground. Luckily for him, he had shoes keeping him relatively steady. The shadow of blue greeted us, and from behind it, I recognized our goal. She was holding a bucket, giving a little greeting of a shout, waving at Lanky and I with her free hand as we approached.

The dog moved to block our path. Protective. The woman stepped forward, putting her hands on the giant dog’s side, speaking in soothing tones. She was wearing jeans, sneakers and a jacket. Had light golden brown hair. I’d seen her before in a picture. Professor Smile’s daughter. Professor Juniper. The air assaulted with the smells of oils and fish, slightest hints of strawberry and cherry berries. Behind the big blue dog that had turned its horned head to face us, the tip of a single, large pink bubble was barely poking out, a jellicent floating by the side, partially submerged in the water and resting in the dock’s shadow.

The smell of a fishy curiosity was entering my antennae when a small splash of saltwater hit Lanky and I.

“Wwwrrroom”. the monster of a pokemon strode closer to us, stepping between us and the boat once more, further constricting our path, leaving Juniper in back. That white crest on its head, absolutely nasty horn sticking out. Like Juniper, I knew the name of this kind of pokemon. I shivered at the unexpected blast of cold. It raised its head high, pulling its body further off the ground with its trunks of legs.

I stepped behind Lanky, who just stopped and waved back, as she moved back in front of the dog. This damn samurott had to be thrice my height. It stood, letting out another deep warble. Lanky looked down at me, patting me on the head as I rubbed my blades together.

Juniper was talking again. A much softer tone than her father’s gruff and stoic vibrations. She approached again. Speaking to her pokemon, samurott stood down. It relaxed its four limbs and bent low in submissive gesture. Once more, she wrapped an arm around its neck, giving it a kiss, before turning to more closely observe Lanky and I.

The conversation was quick, samurott was saddled with boxes and bags, Lanky helping her and her partner secure their loads. I remembered Professor Juniper from the second game, but hadn’t considered she’d just be so… casual. She wasn’t constantly smiling like her father, and her tone wasn’t so stuck up; her body language and that slight hint of berry says “friend”.

Lanky had let go of the leash, having me stay by samurott. Trying to relax, I inspected the massive water dog as it sat relatively still and sniffed me. For how large he was, his head was quite small. The wicked horn was much sharper than I’d imagined as a human teen, its teeth were built for stabbing and grappling. Whatever it bit, was probably never let go. He sniffed the air again, then me, no doubt picking up the trace smell of cherries.

I took a breath and shuffled back a step as he huffed a quick puff at me.

He wasn’t going to eat me, at least, which was nice. He looked down. Where the rope lay. He made to grab the leash with his mouth. I tried to kick the rope and pull it back to me. Instead I slipped and fell back, tipping to the side of the dock. Given a glimpse of the water, I panicked and tried to set my leg down close in. I couldn’t find a steady spot and plunged over the edge.

My legs and abdomen splashed into the water before stopping. Caught by samurott, who grabbed the end of the leash and lifted me back to shore. Shivering and wet from the icy cold ocean water, I was grateful as the dog set me down on the dock, barking with a soft “wrop!” sound.

Juniper tossed the dog a treat, which it caught out of the air, enjoying its reward for saving me from disaster.

A few minutes later, I was partially dry again, and samurott was completely loaded up. Ready to go, Juniper pulled out a rope of her own, attaching it to the large collar at the base of the dog’s neck. It was nice knowing I wasn’t the only one. Fortunately for him; it seemed more a formality than something that could actually hold him back. That damn animal could probably tow a car, those legs were as thick as medium-sized tree trunks.

Samurott, carrying their bags and boxes like a pack mule, we went… to… the gym. Now I knew the source of the cherry conditioner.

And it wasn’t a smell I’d caught on Alder.