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This is a oneshot based on characters from my main story, Hands of Creation. This was inspired by another fic here that had a similar premise, and I knew one day I'd want to do it myself for my characters. I just couldn't figure out who would be the best fit... until now.
I'm not sorry.
It was another beautiful day in Kilo Village. Goodra Anam, the Heart of Hearts and leader of the united world, had been looking forward to a simple dinner together with one of his subordinates, Lucario Rhys.
The sun was not long for the day, with blues transitioning to oranges in a cloudless sky. Anam had a small abode just down the road from his headquarters, only a few rooms large, but it was enough to call his home if he wanted somewhere quiet to live.
It had a living room that doubled as the entryway, a path into a bathroom to the left, a kitchen to the right, and an indoor pond that he called his bedroom straight ahead. He’d be using the living room, having set up a simple wooden table that still had a few leaves growing on it, for their eating area.
If the dinner went well enough, maybe they could have some training done! Rhys always loved training. But first, a meal.
Anam was lounging in his pond when the sound of a steel spike knocking against concrete jostled him away. He was here!
Eagerly, Anam got up from his pond and waddled into the living room, coating the grass below him in slime. He tugged the wooden door open to see the small, long-furred Lucario standing in front of him.
“Well, Anam, I made it,” Rhys replied with a nod, “despite your directions…”
“Rhys! Welcome!” Anam grinned, holding his arms out. Rhys respectfully backed away, so Anam lowered his arms and settled for a smile. “I hope you’re ready for a great dinner!”
“Mm.” Rhys nodded and stepped inside, careful to avoid the slime trail Anam left behind.
The Lucario took a seat by the table, inspecting one of the leafy branches growing out of it. He set down a small container of something that smelled like sweet apple cider in the middle of the table.
Anam shuffled into the kitchen next. It had the basic appliances like a clay stove, some wood to burn, and a cabinet of spices, and a cooled storage unit with a Hail Orb to keep things fresh.
But… no!
Anam gasped. The stove! It…!
“Oh, by light!” Anam jumped to the entrance and opened it.
Inside was some yellow mush that had overcooked into unrecognizable slop.
“My yams are ruined!”
Anam stiffened, nibbling on his grabbers. Rhys was waiting for him. What could he do?
He will just be disappointed in you, the unfriendly voice in Anam’s head said.
Mister Matter! Please, help! What do I do?!
The dish is unsalvageable. There is no hope.
No, there has to be a way…
Anam’s eyes trailed to the window. Just down the road, in the commercial district, he saw a building in the shape of a Ludicolo’s hat.
“But what if,” he whispered, “I grabbed some café food and made it look like my cooking?”
Quite deceptive of you, Anam.
Anam gulped but nodded. He had no choice. Rhys deserved a good meal!
But Rhys couldn’t know. Anam couldn’t go out the front entrance. So instead… Yes! The window!
Anam made his way to the exit, squatting down. He pushed the window open—
And then, Rhys stepped into the kitchen. “Ah—”
Anam froze. Slime dripped from his arms and legs.
Rhys narrowed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his snout. “Anam…”
“Rhys!” Anam said quickly. “I was just, uh, cleaning up my slime on the windowsill! It's a polite cultural thing, for, um, Goodra with guests. Want to join?”
Why in the world would he join you?
“…Why is there smoke coming from the stove, Anam?” Rhys asked.
“Smoke?” Anam looked up. It was a thin trail, but it must have been from the overcooking, the bottom of the yam sludge burning… “Uhh, that’s not smoke! It’s steam. Steam from the steamed yams we’re having!” Anam smiled wide, rubbing his grabbers together. “Yeah. Steamed yams.”
Rhys squinted but, for one reason or another, seemed to resign himself to this and stepped out of the kitchen again.
Anam sighed with relief and turned his attention back to the window, which was about half the radius of his hips. He jumped through, squelching his way to the other side. He made a mad dash for the café…
Lies beget lies. Are you ready to deal with the consequences?
Anam didn’t listen. This dinner had to work out. And he’d make that happen!
I can’t believe you’re doing this.
Anam smiled as he passed through the doorway into the living room with a tray of Oran Berries and other small treats. “Rhys, I hope you’re ready for some amazing Orans!”
Rhys, sitting politely at the table, swiveled his ears thoughtfully. “I thought we were having steamed yams.”
“Oh! No, um, I said steamed Orans. That’s what I call Oran platters.”
Are you serious?
“You call sandwich platters steamed Orans.”
“Yes!” Anam nodded. “It’s a, uh, regional dialect.”
Anam, you made all regions one region two decades ago.
“…What region?” Rhys asked, now looking skeptical.
“Uh, old region, near War’s End.”
“Really?” Rhys said. “As a reminder, the old lab is near War’s End, and I’m from—”
“Oh, no, no, the western side.”
“I see.” Rhys looked befuddled rather than convinced but at least he didn’t challenge it.
Anam set the platter down and Rhys took the first sandwich which—thankfully—had slices of Oran inside.
And for a moment, Anam thought all would go well. But seconds later, Rhys inspected the sandwich curiously. His brow furrowed, aura feelers twitching.
“You know,” Rhys said, “these remind me of the sandwiches at Ludicolo Café—”
“Ha ha!” Anam interrupted. “No, no, this is an old family recipe. From my Mom’s side! Hundreds of years old!”
“…For steamed yams.”
“Mhm!”
“And they’re called steamed yams despite the fact they’re… caramelized.” He opened the bread, revealing the browned berries and veggies within.
“Um…” Anam trailed off. “Well, that, uh… the thing is…”
You’re in too deep. Kill him.
I can’t do that!
Then find an excuse.
“Uh—excuse me for a sec!”
“Mm.” Rhys put the sandwich back together and resumed eating as Anam slipped into the kitchen.
What do I do? How do I get out?
If killing isn’t on the table, just say you’re tired. I’m sure you’ve done stranger things.
But I don’t need to sleep!
He’ll buy it. He’s already done.
Anam nibbled on his feelers, then, realizing the smoke was filling his kitchen, quickly exited, and let out a great yawn.
“Wow, Rhys. That was a great dinner, huh? Sorry for the wait, but at least we had fun!”
The Lucario sighed and checked outside with a glance. “Mm. yes,” Rhys said, acknowledging the evening sky. “I suppose I should be”—He shot out of his seat, pointing at Anam’s kitchen—“By Mew, what’s happening in there?!”
“Uhh—Dungeon distortion.”
“Wh—” Rhys squinted. He stumbled over his words as the energy around him swirled, rattling nearby loose furniture and plates. “Dungeon distortion? Right here, now, in the caldera of Kilo Village, after centuries without new sightings… localized entirely within your kitchen?”
“Mhm!” Anam clasped his slimy feelers together.
A beat of silence. Rhys brought his paws up, channeling aura. “Perhaps we should investigate?”
“Uhh, I got it!” Anam ushered Rhys out of the house.
Rhys glanced at the kitchen with mild concern, though the way he stared skeptically at Anam, the Goodra knew he just had to clean this up tomorrow and make up a new story.
Once outside, though, Rhys relaxed. Perhaps he trusted Anam to deal with it. “Well, Anam… as per usual, you provide for me a unique experience,” Rhys said, looking stern, “but… you steam a good yam.”
With a friendly and polite smile, he turned and walked down the road.
“Anam!” a Decidueye shouted from the upper floor, “the house is on fire!”
Rhys turned around and looked concerned again.
“No, Jam-Jam! Just a Dungeon distortion!”
Anam waved goodbye to Rhys with overcompensatingly enthusiastic gestures. Rhys sighed and continued down the road.
“Anam?” Decidueye called. “Anaaaam!”
And as a Blastoise came rumbling down the road, cannons prepped, Anam happily turned back into the house.
Another job well done.
I'm not sorry.
<><><>
Steamed Yams
Steamed Yams
It was another beautiful day in Kilo Village. Goodra Anam, the Heart of Hearts and leader of the united world, had been looking forward to a simple dinner together with one of his subordinates, Lucario Rhys.
The sun was not long for the day, with blues transitioning to oranges in a cloudless sky. Anam had a small abode just down the road from his headquarters, only a few rooms large, but it was enough to call his home if he wanted somewhere quiet to live.
It had a living room that doubled as the entryway, a path into a bathroom to the left, a kitchen to the right, and an indoor pond that he called his bedroom straight ahead. He’d be using the living room, having set up a simple wooden table that still had a few leaves growing on it, for their eating area.
If the dinner went well enough, maybe they could have some training done! Rhys always loved training. But first, a meal.
Anam was lounging in his pond when the sound of a steel spike knocking against concrete jostled him away. He was here!
Eagerly, Anam got up from his pond and waddled into the living room, coating the grass below him in slime. He tugged the wooden door open to see the small, long-furred Lucario standing in front of him.
“Well, Anam, I made it,” Rhys replied with a nod, “despite your directions…”
“Rhys! Welcome!” Anam grinned, holding his arms out. Rhys respectfully backed away, so Anam lowered his arms and settled for a smile. “I hope you’re ready for a great dinner!”
“Mm.” Rhys nodded and stepped inside, careful to avoid the slime trail Anam left behind.
The Lucario took a seat by the table, inspecting one of the leafy branches growing out of it. He set down a small container of something that smelled like sweet apple cider in the middle of the table.
Anam shuffled into the kitchen next. It had the basic appliances like a clay stove, some wood to burn, and a cabinet of spices, and a cooled storage unit with a Hail Orb to keep things fresh.
But… no!
Anam gasped. The stove! It…!
“Oh, by light!” Anam jumped to the entrance and opened it.
Inside was some yellow mush that had overcooked into unrecognizable slop.
“My yams are ruined!”
Anam stiffened, nibbling on his grabbers. Rhys was waiting for him. What could he do?
He will just be disappointed in you, the unfriendly voice in Anam’s head said.
Mister Matter! Please, help! What do I do?!
The dish is unsalvageable. There is no hope.
No, there has to be a way…
Anam’s eyes trailed to the window. Just down the road, in the commercial district, he saw a building in the shape of a Ludicolo’s hat.
“But what if,” he whispered, “I grabbed some café food and made it look like my cooking?”
Quite deceptive of you, Anam.
Anam gulped but nodded. He had no choice. Rhys deserved a good meal!
But Rhys couldn’t know. Anam couldn’t go out the front entrance. So instead… Yes! The window!
Anam made his way to the exit, squatting down. He pushed the window open—
And then, Rhys stepped into the kitchen. “Ah—”
Anam froze. Slime dripped from his arms and legs.
Rhys narrowed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his snout. “Anam…”
“Rhys!” Anam said quickly. “I was just, uh, cleaning up my slime on the windowsill! It's a polite cultural thing, for, um, Goodra with guests. Want to join?”
Why in the world would he join you?
“…Why is there smoke coming from the stove, Anam?” Rhys asked.
“Smoke?” Anam looked up. It was a thin trail, but it must have been from the overcooking, the bottom of the yam sludge burning… “Uhh, that’s not smoke! It’s steam. Steam from the steamed yams we’re having!” Anam smiled wide, rubbing his grabbers together. “Yeah. Steamed yams.”
Rhys squinted but, for one reason or another, seemed to resign himself to this and stepped out of the kitchen again.
Anam sighed with relief and turned his attention back to the window, which was about half the radius of his hips. He jumped through, squelching his way to the other side. He made a mad dash for the café…
Lies beget lies. Are you ready to deal with the consequences?
Anam didn’t listen. This dinner had to work out. And he’d make that happen!
<><><>
I can’t believe you’re doing this.
Anam smiled as he passed through the doorway into the living room with a tray of Oran Berries and other small treats. “Rhys, I hope you’re ready for some amazing Orans!”
Rhys, sitting politely at the table, swiveled his ears thoughtfully. “I thought we were having steamed yams.”
“Oh! No, um, I said steamed Orans. That’s what I call Oran platters.”
Are you serious?
“You call sandwich platters steamed Orans.”
“Yes!” Anam nodded. “It’s a, uh, regional dialect.”
Anam, you made all regions one region two decades ago.
“…What region?” Rhys asked, now looking skeptical.
“Uh, old region, near War’s End.”
“Really?” Rhys said. “As a reminder, the old lab is near War’s End, and I’m from—”
“Oh, no, no, the western side.”
“I see.” Rhys looked befuddled rather than convinced but at least he didn’t challenge it.
Anam set the platter down and Rhys took the first sandwich which—thankfully—had slices of Oran inside.
And for a moment, Anam thought all would go well. But seconds later, Rhys inspected the sandwich curiously. His brow furrowed, aura feelers twitching.
“You know,” Rhys said, “these remind me of the sandwiches at Ludicolo Café—”
“Ha ha!” Anam interrupted. “No, no, this is an old family recipe. From my Mom’s side! Hundreds of years old!”
“…For steamed yams.”
“Mhm!”
“And they’re called steamed yams despite the fact they’re… caramelized.” He opened the bread, revealing the browned berries and veggies within.
“Um…” Anam trailed off. “Well, that, uh… the thing is…”
You’re in too deep. Kill him.
I can’t do that!
Then find an excuse.
“Uh—excuse me for a sec!”
“Mm.” Rhys put the sandwich back together and resumed eating as Anam slipped into the kitchen.
What do I do? How do I get out?
If killing isn’t on the table, just say you’re tired. I’m sure you’ve done stranger things.
But I don’t need to sleep!
He’ll buy it. He’s already done.
Anam nibbled on his feelers, then, realizing the smoke was filling his kitchen, quickly exited, and let out a great yawn.
“Wow, Rhys. That was a great dinner, huh? Sorry for the wait, but at least we had fun!”
The Lucario sighed and checked outside with a glance. “Mm. yes,” Rhys said, acknowledging the evening sky. “I suppose I should be”—He shot out of his seat, pointing at Anam’s kitchen—“By Mew, what’s happening in there?!”
“Uhh—Dungeon distortion.”
“Wh—” Rhys squinted. He stumbled over his words as the energy around him swirled, rattling nearby loose furniture and plates. “Dungeon distortion? Right here, now, in the caldera of Kilo Village, after centuries without new sightings… localized entirely within your kitchen?”
“Mhm!” Anam clasped his slimy feelers together.
A beat of silence. Rhys brought his paws up, channeling aura. “Perhaps we should investigate?”
“Uhh, I got it!” Anam ushered Rhys out of the house.
Rhys glanced at the kitchen with mild concern, though the way he stared skeptically at Anam, the Goodra knew he just had to clean this up tomorrow and make up a new story.
Once outside, though, Rhys relaxed. Perhaps he trusted Anam to deal with it. “Well, Anam… as per usual, you provide for me a unique experience,” Rhys said, looking stern, “but… you steam a good yam.”
With a friendly and polite smile, he turned and walked down the road.
“Anam!” a Decidueye shouted from the upper floor, “the house is on fire!”
Rhys turned around and looked concerned again.
“No, Jam-Jam! Just a Dungeon distortion!”
Anam waved goodbye to Rhys with overcompensatingly enthusiastic gestures. Rhys sighed and continued down the road.
“Anam?” Decidueye called. “Anaaaam!”
And as a Blastoise came rumbling down the road, cannons prepped, Anam happily turned back into the house.
Another job well done.
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