HelloYellow17
Gym Leader
- Pronouns
- She/Her
- Partners
-
N a m e l e s s
CW: This fic contains depictions of death, injury, and mental/emotional decay.
CW: This fic contains depictions of death, injury, and mental/emotional decay.
The first thing she knows is damp and darkness.
She cannot see, cannot hear, can only feel. As she crawls from her hatched shell, there is only one thought, one instinct in her mind: forward.
So she eats. She chews through soil, layer after layer, pushing her way upwards. She does not know where she is going, only that it is forward, forward, she must move forward. She must eat her way through the suffocating cocoon that surrounds her.
She has no sense of time, but her body tells her of its passage from the way that it begins to ache, to tire, to slow. Her limbs quiver, her lungs grow weary, she yearns for rest. But she must push onwards, she must, or she will never break out of the soil. To stop is to give in to the dark and lonely damp, to rest is to admit defeat and succumb to death.
She will not give in. She will not succumb. She will not lose.
The soil grows softer, lighter. She can smell more than just endless dirt, rocks, and roots. She is close, close, so close. Her body trembles with every movement, screams for relief, for rest, but she is almost there, she can taste it in the changing soil—
Light.
The world is bright. Painfully so. She breaks the surface at last, and the sounds, the smells, the very air…it all feels hostile, attacking her scales and all of her senses, leaving her raw, exhausted, agitated…but triumphant.
She looks up, into the eyes of the one who was waiting for her at the surface: her mother. She knows this the same way that she knew to eat her way through the soil. It is in her bones, in her nature, in who she was before she even hatched.
With the last of her strength, she raises her head and nuzzles against her mother’s face. Her mother croons lovingly, gathers her into strong arms as she falls asleep.
She is Larvitar, and she has passed her first test.
_______________________
Instinct urges her from deep within. It rattles in her bones, quivers in her scales, whispers in her ears. She must grow stronger. She must prove herself time and time again.
And so she does.
She hardens her scales against boulders and tests her jaws on the thickest of tree trunks. She learns what little she can from her mother until, not long after hatching, her mother sends her into the world alone to prove her strength. She will not see her mother again unless it is to battle for territory.
She accepts this, for it is the way things are. Just as the trees grow towards the sky and the flowers awaken in spring, so shall she survive on her own, as it was always meant to be.
She flourishes in her small corner of territory, makes herself known to the Pokémon that occupy it. She accepts every challenge and defeats every foe…until she doesn’t.
The Poliwhirl she faces down is strong—too strong, she realizes. But there is no turning back, no escape. In her quest to expand her territory, she has invaded his. She will not be let off lightly.
Her opponent’s punch hurls her into a nearby tree with enough force to splinter the bark apart. Her teeth rattle and the trunk quivers under her small body before she drops to the earth, utterly spent.
She manages to open one eye to see her opponent looming over her. His silhouette is large enough to block out the sun…or perhaps she is simply too small.
It is her first taste of defeat, and it is a bitter one.
And so she trains, and trains, and trains some more. She doesn’t wait for her body to stop aching before she is hurling herself at bigger boulders, thicker tree trunks, other foes. She rarely allows herself to rest, to stop, because to stop would be to accept her defeat.
The sun and moon chase each other across the sky, over and over, until at long last, she is ready. She wanders into the new territory again, bellows out a challenge, and it does not take long for her rival to appear once more.
Dirt sprays out from under her feet as she propels herself forward, and then they are grappling, snarling, hurling rocks and water, shattering nearby boulders, taking chunks out of tree trunks. For just a moment, it looks like she will prevail—until the Poliwhirl lands a brutal punch directly on her chest, and suddenly she is airborne, hurtling towards a tree just as she had last time.
But this time, she is ready.
She angles herself in midair, feels her feet come into contact with the rough bark, and she absorbs the impact in her legs, ignoring the pain that laces its way up her spine. She scrunches up her body, and then, like a spring, kicks out from the trunk and curls into a ball, rolling straight for her opponent’s head.
Unable to see, she is now guided only by her smell and hearing, but her aim remains true. With a resounding crack, she crashes into the Poliwhirl’s head. She feels the way it vibrates through his skull and the way the rest of his body falls limp. She revels in the sensation, savors the hard-fought victory.
Her landing is less than graceful, but she does not care. She picks herself up from the dirt, makes her way over to her fallen opponent to gloat, but stops short when she steps on something that crackles softly under her foot.
It is an apricorn. Fully ripe, shaken loose from a nearby tree in their scuffle. She is not sure why, but she picks it up, admires it, then holds it close. It is a memento, a trophy from this battle.
Clutching her trophy in both paws, she throws her head back and bellows at the sky.
She is Larvitar, and she is a warrior.
_______________________
Days blend into one another, but it is irrelevant to her. She only measures the passing of time by the rate her strength grows. As she becomes stronger, her territory expands, little by little, until trees thin out to grassier slopes, and it is here that she meets her first human. Her first trainer.
She is content to watch quietly from the grass, until the human clicks a small apricorn-like sphere at her waist, and suddenly there is light. And then there is a Pokémon, one she has never seen before: tall and green and white, with a massive leaf on its head. He looks softer, but he carries himself much like the trees do; quiet, yet dignified. Powerful.
It is a marvelous opportunity to prove her strength to an unknown Pokémon. She takes a moment to feel for her apricorn, tucked away in a pocket under her scales. It is still there, as it has always been, and it gives her strength. She bursts from the grass and roars out a challenge, startling both the girl and the Pokémon, and takes a fighting stance.
The human stares, then grins. She chatters at her, in words that she can surprisingly understand. “Wow! Larvitar, huh? I’ve never seen one of your kind before. You want to battle?”
It is strange, yet thrilling, to hear her name spoken aloud, though she is not sure why. Names were of little significance in the wild, rarely given and even more rarely used. And yet, for the first time, she realizes that she likes it. And she wants to hear it again.
She answers the human’s question with another roar. The girl signals to her companion, and he steps forward, bowing his head by way of greeting.
She does not care for greetings, only for victory. She throws herself at her foe, slams into his neck before biting down hard, and the battle begins.
It is a thrilling fight, the most challenging one she has had in a long time, and yet it is all too short. Her opponent, though not nimble, is strong. Resolute. He barely flinches at her attacks before slicing at her with his leaves, hurling her about with his vines and muscling his way through her rocks and dirt by sheer force. Before long, she is exhausted, and a final blow sends her rolling through the grass. She tries to stand—once, twice, three times, and fails each time.
She hears the girl murmur something, movement in the corner of her blurry vision. Soon, the girl and her companion are crouching in front of her, their shadows looming over, reminiscent of a previous defeat.
But this time, there is no posturing or boasting. Instead, the human procures a strange-looking object and sprays her down with it. She flinches, unprepared for the tingling sensation, and picks herself up off the ground to growl at this human for having the audacity to humiliate her further—
“Does that feel better?” The girl’s voice is gentle. “You know, you put up a really amazing fight. Lou is three times your size and has a type advantage, but you still gave him a real challenge!”
The Pokémon called Lou bows his head and rumbles in a voice so low she almost doesn’t hear him. “You are a worthy opponent.”
She glares at him. She lost. She has not proven her worth yet, not until she wins. With a swagger in her step, she puffs out her chest and challenges him again with a bark. Now that she can fight again, the battle must resume, she must continue, she must push forward until she is victorious—
But the girl only shakes her head. “You shouldn’t push yourself, you know. That potion healed your injuries, but it won’t replace the energy you’ve spent. It’s important to rest between battles.”
What? She glances between the one called Lou and his human companion, and when neither of them show any sign of returning to battle, she snorts at them. Rest? Ridiculous. A battle is never over until she can prove herself worthy, until she conquers her opponent, until she wins.
The girl smiles. “Battling is really important to you, isn’t it?” She extends a hand. “My name is Mei. I’m a trainer, and Lou and I travel the region with our team to grow stronger. Do you want to join our team, Larvitar?”
There it is again. Her name, or the closest thing she has to it, said out loud. It is the only thing that feels almost as good as a battle, and she yearns to hear it more. Slowly, thoughtfully, she leans forward and sniffs at the girl’s hand, but it is empty. So why did she hold it out in the first place? She is not sure, so she settles for resting her chin in the human’s hand before looking into her eyes and growling in affirmation.
The girl called Mei smiles wider, and the warmth in her face is like the sun on a spring morning. Lou rumbles and bows his head again, the leaves around his neck rustling. “It will be an honor to have you as a teammate and friend,” he says.
Friend?
“That’s—wow! Ah, I’m so glad!” Mei pulls her hand away to cup her face. “I’m so excited! Welcome to the team, Larvitar!”
The name again. There is a strange feeling inside her chest that she has not felt before. She brings her paws to it, though she is not sure why, and makes a light, cheerful noise she has never heard herself make before.
The girl rummages through a pouch slung over her shoulder, then pulls out another apricorn-like ball, identical to the one Lou was summoned from.
“This is called a Pokéball. It’s like a little home, or a little den, just for you. It’s so Pokémon like you can travel with me more easily, and it keeps you safe.” She holds it out. “Once you press this button in the middle, you’ll be pulled inside and you’ll officially be a member of the team. You can jump out any time, and I’ll never force you to go inside it if you don’t want to. Okay?”
It is new and odd and, though she hates to admit it, a little frightening. But Lou called her a ‘friend’, and Mei says her name so kindly, and there will be many thrilling battles ahead. She reaches for the ball, but Mei pulls it back.
“Oh! Sorry—one more thing. If you’re going to join the team, would you like a name?”
A…name? But she already has one. It is ‘Larvitar’. It is the name of her kind. She tilts her head in confusion.
“It’s okay if you don’t want one. But I wanted to give you the option.”
Lou snorts softly, almost like a chuckle, and speaks gently. “What she means is that it will be a name unique to you. I am called ‘Lou’, but my kind is called Bayleef. I chose to have a name that is all my own, and it sets me apart from other Pokémon.”
She blinks. A…specific name. One that only belongs to her. She has never considered the idea before, and yet… the idea of being called by a name that belongs to no one else is delightful to her. It is something she never knew she wanted until this moment, and now she wants it with every fiber of her being. She thinks she might even be quivering as she nods aggressively.
Lou hums pleasantly. Mei laughs. “Okay, then, let’s give you a name! And if you don’t like it, you can say so. We can take our time finding one you like.”
No. No, she wants one now. She shakes her head and stomps her foot. Mei laughs again.
“Okay, okay, we can do it now! Um…let’s see…what do you think of…Korrva?”
Korrva. She mulls it over for a moment, takes the name and rumbles it aloud, rolling it around in her mouth as if tasting a particularly appetizing stone. She brightens. Korrva. It is strong, it is noble. It is…hers.
She rumbles the name out loud again. And again, and again, louder each time, until she is bellowing it to the sky and Lou bellows with her and Mei is laughing and cheering and suddenly, all at once, nothing in the world has felt more right.
She is Korrva, and she is no longer alone.
_______________________
She meets her two other teammates: a Houndour called Ashka and a Quagsire called Burton. Burton says he likes to be called “Burt,” which Lou explains is a “nick” name, and she learns that you can have two names like that and decides she wants one of her own immediately. But she soon finds that she likes her full name too much, and establishes that only Mei is allowed to call her by her nick name.
It is odd at first, living with several others when she has spent most of her life in solitude, but she surprises herself with how quickly she adapts. She learns that Lou is a powerful sparring partner, but he is also soft and gentle like cool grass on a warm day. Ashka has boundless energy and is a ferocious opponent, but the Houndour is also the one who teaches her what it means to “play.” Burt is a slow battler, one who takes his time and then strikes quickly and brutally when he spots an opening. He is her toughest opponent, and she would battle him from sunrise to sunset were it not for his great love of long afternoon naps.
She learns that the world is so much bigger than she ever imagined it could be, that there is so much more beyond her corner of the forest. There are humans and many Pokémon and all kinds of food. It is exciting, if a little daunting at times, but she never regrets her choice. For the first time, she begins to learn that life has more to offer than battles…but battles, especially winning battles, will always be her favorite part of it.
Mei teaches her about battling rules, teaches her when to rest and when to push her limits, and tells her about what is called the “gym circuit” and how it works. She is told about these “gym battles,” and immediately decides she wants nothing more than to be in one. To win one. It is not long before she gets her wish.
Mei’s face is tense and pale as she informs the team of their opponent. “Korr, I know you really want in on this battle, so I’ll try to give you a turn, but you’re still pretty small. Morty’s Gengar is nasty from what I’ve heard, and I don’t want you in over your head. So just follow my lead, okay?”
It is not what she wants to hear. She scowls and huffs and grumbles, and Mei rubs the scales under her chin with a sigh. “I know. I’m sorry. I just don’t want to push you past your limit. I promise that by the time we get to the next gym, you’ll get plenty of time to shine. Okay?”
It is still not what she wants, but she will accept it for now. She agrees with a sigh and returns to her Pokéball.
The battle does not go well. She knows this the moment the light fades and she finds herself standing on the battlefield. She looks up at Mei, whose face shines with sweat and is tight with anxiety. But the girl still manages to smile at her. “Do your best, Korrva, but please don’t push yourself. Follow my lead and learn what you can from this battle.”
Nothing more is said, but the unspoken message is clear nonetheless; her teammates are nowhere in sight. She is the last thing standing between her team and defeat.
She cannot contain the excitement boiling in her veins, and she does not try to. She faces her massive, hulking ghost of an opponent and gives a roar that vibrates her own scales. She is ready.
The Gengar is evasive. Frustratingly so. They vanish just before contact is made, then reappear in a shadowy corner to cackle and mock her. They spit poison wherever they can, and despite all attempts to avoid it, she is soon hit with dripping acid. She feels it seep under her scales, feels it begin to eat away at her energy.
She begins to stumble. Her attacks start falling short or miss altogether. Mei calls her back to her side, tells her that she can forfeit and rest, but she refuses. She will push forward, onward, until she triumphs.
She digs into the earth, relying on scent and hearing to guide her. She is tired, so very tired, and she remembers a different time under a different set of soil. She did not stop then, and she will not stop now.
She will not give in. She will not succumb. She will not lose.
She locates her target, but what happens next is strange. Warmth envelops her, followed by light, and a sudden burst of power erupts from within. She shoots upwards at a speed she never knew she was capable of, slams into her unsuspecting foe, and clamps down hard on their tail. Adrenaline pulses through her, the roar of the crowd intoxicates her, and she lands blow after blow after blow—
“Korrva! Korrva, stop!”
But she does not stop. It is not her nature. She was made to fight, to conquer, to win—
A flash of light drags her back into her ball, but it does not hold her for long. She bursts back out, snarling, but Mei is in front of her now, waving her arms, eyes wide.
“Korr! Korrva, stop, the battle’s over! Stop! We won, okay?”
Won. We won. She blinks, and slowly the red haze clears from her mind. She looks up at Mei, but the girl is not smiling.
Why is Mei not smiling?
Another flash of light pulls her back into her Pokéball. It is the first time she has been recalled without her consent, and she does not know how to feel about it.
They are in a Pokémon Center the next time she comes out. She looks around for her teammates, but they are not here. It is just her. And Mei. Mei, who is smiling again, but it is a small and not very convincing one.
“Well, first things first…you evolved. How do you feel, Korr?”
She blinks. She did not…realize. And yet, now she notices how different her body feels, how she no longer has limbs and feels somewhat constricted, and yet can hop around with relative ease. She is bigger. Most importantly, she is stronger.
She bounces around on the tile, humming with pride. Mei’s smile becomes more real.
“I was surprised, too! I didn’t realize how close you were. And look at you! You’re so big now!”
Her face then falls.
“But, Korrva…we need to talk about that battle. I…you did really well, and I’m proud of you for winning. But…you went too far at the end. I’m a little worried.”
She stops her bouncing and looks at her trainer again. This is a tone she has never heard from her before.
“I—I’m not sure if you just got carried away because of your evolution, but…please. Don’t do that again, okay? Please stop when I tell you to. For your own sake and your opponent’s sake.” She lets out a breath. “Fortunately, you didn’t cause any serious injuries, and Morty was…understanding. Gengar was, too. But he was just as concerned as I am, and I don’t blame him.”
Her gaze is pleading, but also firm. “I know you love to win. Probably more than any of us, honestly. But you need to know your limits, too. You need to learn when enough is enough. Promise me you’ll work on it. Okay?”
She does not fully understand. Why did any of this matter if they won? Was that not what was most important? But she nods—or rather, rocks her whole body—and Mei smiles once again.
“Good. I trust you. We’ll work on it together, I promise! And, hey, to celebrate you evolving…” Mei trails off as she pulls something out of her pocket.
It is…an apricorn. No, not just any apricorn. Her apricorn.
She rumbles and rocks back and forth. Mei holds up a hand. “It’s okay! It fell out during the battle, but I got it, and it’s okay.” The girl lowers her hand so the apricorn can be seen more clearly. “I was thinking…if you’re okay with it…we could turn this into a Pokéball. A special one, just for you. And that way, you’ll never have to lose it. What do you think?”
A Pokéball? One just for her? It’s like a name, but a little different. It is another thing unique to her and to no one else.
She suddenly learns that she can bounce very, very high if she is excited enough. Higher than she ever could as a Larvitar. Mei bursts into laughter. “Okay, okay! I’ll take that as a yes, then! Just calm down a little before you break something, Korr.”
She does, but only after Mei promises to take them all to an apricorn workshop first thing tomorrow. Mei wraps her arms around her and hugs her tight. “I’m proud of you, Korrva. Remember that.”
Later that evening, they set up camp near the workshop. After a hearty meal and robust celebration of their victory and her evolution, she nestles between her teammates and watches the stars overhead until she gradually drops off to sleep.
She is Korrva, and she is happy.
_______________________
The day it all falls apart begins like any other.
Mei insists that they “take a day off,” and it becomes clear that this means…no battles. Instead, they sprawl on the beach at a place called “Olivine”. Burt is playing in the water. Mei, Ashka and Lou are basking in the sun.
And Korrva is bored.
It is a welcome change of pace when a trainer, a boy that appears close to Mei’s age, approaches them and asks for a battle. He is an odd one, constantly shifting his weight from one foot to another and looking all around.
She wonders why. There is no one else near them, so what is there to see? She does not dwell on this long, though, because soon she is bouncing around Mei, spraying her with sand until the girl finally agrees.
Strangely, the boy only has one Pokémon—but he is a Pokémon like none other. He is massive, much bigger than any of her teammates, and he looks similar to Lou except he has brown hide and large leafy wings across his back. He emerges from his Pokéball already in a fighting stance. A formidable opponent.
But above all, he is angry.
She has never seen a Pokémon move like this one does. He is ferocious, lashing out with almost predatory force. He has no restraint, brutally taking out Burt, then Lou, then even Ashka in only a few hits apiece, and yet he shows no pride in his victories. His eyes are burning with a savage hunger that she does not fully understand.
Mei is frowning, but holds her stance. “That’s a…really tough Tropius you have there. Where’d you find him? Are you from Hoenn?”
The boy meets Mei’s eyes and his lips curl in a snarl. There is no sign of the nervousnesses he displayed before. “None of your business.”
“There’s no need to be rude, I was just asking a question—”
“Send out that Pupitar.”
“Excuse me? Don’t tell me what to—”
But the answer is clear. With her teammates no longer able, she is their last resort. She shoots forward, spraying sand behind her, ignoring Mei’s cry of dismay as she rams into her opponent. She is ready. More than ready. This is a foe with a true fighting spirit, and she is not about to lose.
Except she does.
The hit lands before she can even see it coming, vines crushing her side with a resounding crunch. She feels her shell crack, feels white-hot pain that makes her vision flicker, distantly hears Mei scream. She tries to get up, but is met with a blow to her other side, just as vicious as the first, and then another across her front.
“I saw this Pupitar in that Ecruteak gym.” The boy’s voice is close. She realizes he is standing over her. “I knew then that it was something special. You’re not fit to have it, anyway.”
She tries to move, to get up, to keep fighting, but can only manage to roll onto her other side. Pain is making everything fuzzy, but she thinks she can see a blur of green standing over her trainer, wrapping her up in vines. She hears Mei scream again, and this time she can make out the words.
“No, no, please! Korrva! Korrva!”
It is the last thing she hears before a beam of white light engulfs her and drags her into black.
She cannot be sure how much time has passed when she comes to her senses. All she knows is pain. And more pain. And…white.
The entire room is white. It is painful to look at. But even more painful is the blindingly bright light directly above her. She tries to move and finds she cannot. She is bound tightly to a metal table with several massive chains.
“Careful, I hear this one’s a fighter.”
“That won’t be a problem.”
Voices. There are voices. Blurry silhouettes just outside the rim of light. One steps forward and into her view. He is also dressed in white, in a long coat, but there is some color, too. Speckles of red across his front.
He raises his hand, holding an odd, sharp-looking object that is filled with foul-smelling fluid. He looks down at her, and there is nothing, nothing at all, in his face or his cold, empty eyes.
“Let us begin.”
She is Korrva, and for the first time in her life, she is afraid.
_______________________
Pain becomes her closest friend.
There is no way to know the passage of time within the white walls. Sometimes, she awakens to find herself in a very, very tiny room, one that is barely large enough to hold her. She cannot move freely in this tiny room, and there is only one window in an upper corner. For all her efforts, she cannot get into a position to look out of the window.
She misses her ball. She misses her Mei. She misses her teammates, Lou’s gentle humming and Ashka’s cheerful yips and Burt’s steady presence. Above all, she misses the days she wasn’t in pain.
After a while, she notices a cycle. Strapped to a table, poked and prodded and sometimes even cut open, by different white-coated humans who all ignore her roars and shrieks and screams, only letting up once she loses consciousness. Awakening in her tiny room, bandaged and bleeding, unable to move and sometimes barely able to breathe, until the pain begins to ebb and her strength starts to return. Then she is sucked into a Pokéball that is not her own, sent out and immediately immobilized, and strapped to a table once more. The cycle repeats.
It continues, over and over, until, finally, she manages to fight back: as a woman carelessly tears off a chunk of her shell, she musters the strength to launch the shard as if it is a stone, lodging it straight into the human’s throat.
The spurt of red that follows is accompanied by frantic screams. It creates a twisted sense of triumph within her, one that festers and grows as she watches the woman slump to the floor and the life ebb from her eyes.
For once, she is not the one screaming. She is not the one bleeding. For once, she has won.
It is not a formal battle, but the victory feels the same. She clings to this burning sense of pride, holds it close even as another human plunges a knife into her exposed shell in retaliation.
She has won, and she will do so again. And again. And again. She will not give in. She will not succumb. She will not break.
She is Korrva, and she will not lose.
______________________
The cycle changes after that.
She emerges from the Pokéball and blinks under the bright overhead lights. But this time, there is no Pokémon waiting to stun her into helplessness. There is no table. And the room is much, much bigger.
She does not have long to be confused. A door opens on the opposite side of the room, and yet another white-clothed human is there. He pulls out a Pokéball and summons…a Spinarak.
The human who holds her Pokéball is standing behind her. She only says one word: “Fight.”
It is the first time anyone has spoken to her. She wonders what this means. A battle? But the woman is not giving any other commands. She hesitates, and it is her first mistake.
A jolt of agonizing electricity laces through her skull. She bellows, enraged, and thrashes on the floor. The woman speaks again.
“I said, fight.”
Pain fuels her fury. She rockets across the room and rams the trembling, unprepared Spinarak. He is hurled into the wall, then flops to the floor, unconscious.
There. Her job is done. She turns back to the woman, but nobody moves. The woman speaks again.
“Finish it.”
She tilts to one side. Finish it? But it is already finished. The battle is won. She is not supposed to attack an opponent once they are defeated. She does not underst—
Another bolt of white agony sears her vision. She screams again, this time tearing up the floor as she writhes.
“It is still breathing. Finish. The fight.”
Now she understands.
She picks herself up and turns back to the fallen Pokémon. She can tell just by looking at him that he is small and weak. He would never have been a fair match for her.
For just a moment, she sees Mei’s face after the gym battle. Mei would be very upset at what she is about to do. But Mei is not here, and any other option means she must lose.
She makes it quick. She takes a sizable chunk that she’d ripped out of the floor and drops it on the little bug. He never feels a thing.
The woman’s face remains unchanged, but her tone warms ever so slightly. “Well done.”
Then the ball sucks her back in, and she is left to wonder why this is considered a victory.
A new cycle begins. She does not see the table again, nor does she go back to the tiny room save for meals. All her time is now either spent inside the ball, or out in the big room. Fighting.
Her opponents gradually grow bigger and stronger, each one slightly more capable than the last, but they are still no match for her. And every time, she is only awarded victory after “finishing” each battle. She tries to make it quick each time, as painless as possible, but sometimes they still manage to scream or give her one last terrified look before the final blow.
She does not know what to feel. Sometimes she thinks of Mei, of her teammates, and a cold heaviness weighs over her. But Mei’s face gradually begins to fade, replaced by more recent, more vivid flashes of the terrified eyes of her foes. They haunt her. They needle away at her.
And she begins to resent them for it.
It is not her fault they are so weak. If they wanted so badly to survive, then they should scrape and claw and fight, wear themselves down to the bone to do so. Just like she once did, as a weak and small Larvitar. Just like she does now, as an angry and defiant Pupitar. She survived then, all alone, and she will continue to do so.
She is Korrva, and she will triumph. She will. She will. She will.
_______________________
Eventually, the fights become a challenge.
She relishes in her first hard-fought victory, bellows over the mangled corpse of the Rhyhorn, her first foe to give her a good fight. The last look in its eyes was not one of fear, but of anger. She is not sure why, but this fuels her own rage even further.
Its defeat will not be in vain. She will win the next battle, and the next, and the next. She will respect and honor their efforts while punishing any weakness she sees. Whether it is out of mercy, or resentment, or a sense of duty, she cannot be sure. Perhaps it is a mixture of all three.
And so she fights, each hit harder than the last, each battle more vicious, each death less merciful. This is what she was made for. She was made to fight, to conquer, to win, and to never stop until victory was hers.
And then she evolves.
For a moment, she thinks to herself that it is nice to have limbs again. Then she pauses. Does she even remember the last time she had limbs? It is all so far away now, so distant, as if from a previous life. One thought bleeds into another and suddenly there are blurred faces, muffled voices that she thinks she should remember, but they are no longer clear. There is…a girl. And a team. Was it her team? Was it her family?
This momentary distraction gives her enemy an opening. The Blastoise fires a Hydro Pump that dents her chest plate and cracks her ribs.
Rage and pain combine into a red haze and drive all other thoughts from her mind. With a shrieking scream mingled with a roar, she drives her fist into the side of the other Pokemon’s head and shatters its skull. She glories in the way its body goes limp and falls to the floor, and she stomps all over the shell until it cracks into pieces for good measure—
Something rolls out from under the lip of the shell. She pauses, picks it up. Stares at it.
It is…an apricorn.
She doesn’t know how she knows this. Or why her enemy had one. Or why it is making her feel so strange. Suddenly, she realizes she doesn’t know anything.
Why is she here? Why is she fighting? Why…
Slowly, unconsciously, she curls her claws over the apricorn and crushes it, and with it, her feelings subside.
There is one thing she knows. She is…Korrva. Yes. That is all that matters.
_______________________
She savors her new strength with vigor.
It is easier than ever to break her opponents now. Limbs are snapped like flimsy tree branches. Scales are splintered like dry bark. Skin is shredded like soggy leaves.
And yet, she is unsatisfied. She wants more, more, more, and yet it is never enough. She rages after every fight is finished, demands them to bring her more, but eventually they always stop. Sometimes the humans are able to recall her before she crushes them to dust. Sometimes they are not quick enough.
She has not felt the electric shocks for some time now. She learned quickly, even while she was still a Pupitar, that the humans control the shocks through a small remote in their hands. She could not remove the device they had implanted in her head, but she could certainly remove the remotes. And the hands holding them. Once she evolved, the shocks stopped altogether.
Good. They are learning. Learning who truly holds the power.
She is the strongest. She is the greatest. She is…she is…Tyranitar.
For just a small, fleeting moment, she thinks that isn’t quite right. That she should be called something else. But the moment passes when the door opens again and out steps another human, with a Pokéball containing her next enemy.
Yes. She is destruction. Raw, unfiltered power. She is Tyranitar.
_______________________
“I believe it is ready.”
“Truly? It has been quite some time. Are you certain?”
“Truly. I don’t believe I have ever seen a specimen more ready than this one. I daresay it even wants it.”
She can hear them, but it takes time for the words to register. Her brain is foggy, and everything around her feels…surreal. Far away.
With some effort, she manages to open her eyes. The room is dim, everything cast in a soft blue hue from a few colored lights. She sees machines, tubes, many things she does not understand, and…a few metal tables.
This enrages her, though she can’t remember why. And yet, despite the flare of anger that rises within, she can do more than let out a sluggish, gravelly growl.
“Ah, it’s awake, I see. Is that supposed to happen?”
The voices are a little clearer now. She is able to make out two small silhouettes—humans, standing at her feet and looking up at her. She realizes she is upright, but not standing herself; instead, it seems she is suspended by many tubes and wires. Some of them are hooked to her, perhaps even inside her—but, at the very least, she feels no pain. In fact, she feels nothing at all, and can’t move any part of her body.
“Oh, no need to worry about that. It’s heavily sedated and incapable of movement. I doubt it will stay awake for very long.”
The man who is speaking is a tall and slender one—or at least, tall for a human. His violet mane of hair frames his face, the blue lights glinting off the lenses over his eyes. She cannot see his eyes under the reflected gleam, but she can see his wide grin.
“What do you think?” he says. “I’m quite proud of it, if I do say so myself.”
The other man, much shorter and rounder than the first, looks her up and down before smiling himself. “It’s impressive. Remarkable, even. I’m eager to see the final product.”
“As am I, sir.” The taller man raises a hand and knocks on her leg. She wouldn’t know he’d touched her if she wasn’t already watching. “You hear that, SD00573? You are almost perfected. And once you are, he will become your trainer.”
His voice is smug. Mocking. Infuriating. She snarls at him, manages to curl one lip to show her fangs.
And yet, most irritating of all was that last word. Trainer. Something stirs inside of her, a feeling she cannot place. Is it anger? Disgust? …Sadness?
She can’t hold on to the thought for very long. The taller man laughs and then reaches over to a nearby wire to press a button, and almost immediately her mind clouds over once more, the room spins, and her vision darkens. “We will begin Shadowfication, then, if we have your approval, sir.”
She succumbs to nothingness before she can hear the reply, but one last thought remains in her brain: perfected.
She is Tyranitar. She is ready for perfection.
_______________________
It is cold.
That is the first thought she has before she opens her eyes. Yet it does not make sense. To feel cold would mean she had once felt warmth. She is not sure she knows what either of those mean.
She is in the large room again. Free of restraints. The large room must mean another fight.
Fight. The word once sparked something within her. A fire. A savage pleasure. Rage. Pride. Pain. Now she feels nothing.
This does not strike her as odd or uncomfortable. It simply is. To feel uncomfortable would mean to want something different. But she wants nothing. Knows nothing, except that she is meant to destroy.
Yes. Yes. This is what it means to be perfected. This is what it means to be truly strong. Raw, filtered, precise power. Perfection.
The door slides open. Another human, another Pokéball, another enemy to destroy. She is ready.
And when the woman sends out a Bayleef, she does not hesitate to crush it.
At long last, she is finally what she has always meant to be.
She is called SD00573. She is perfection.
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