Somehow, by some twisted move of fate, my absolutely disgusting win at the Santalune Gym had inspired Ash to work harder to beat Viola. Serena, all while looking slightly constipated, tried to work up the courage to ask if we could split, so she could go with Ash, but instead asked if we could stay a little long.
Me, being unable to say no to her, agreed with the reason that I still have the rest of my life to go. I can slow down a little and take a breather.
Something about Ash rankles me. He's a good…person, but something tells me that staying around him for too long won't be beneficial towards my longevity that I was so proud of. I probably won't be journeying near him…at all. In fact, the aforementioned only reason I'm still here is Serena, but I don't think even my repressed feelings can overcome my conscience.
So, I sat over near the outdoor porch area behind the Pokémon Center, watching Ash as he desperately trains to beat Viola. I ordered a panini—steak and cheddar—from the Center's cafeteria. Hazel gets her own myriad of minerals to absorb, Robin gets a smoked salmon, and Combee gets some hydrangeas.
'Cause why not?
Avoiding the inner turmoil of my raging heart and mind, I divert my attention over to Ash and co. They're…training, I guess? They've tied balloons to Pikachu and Fletchling for…some reason. I guess for Gust training? Maybe. I don't see this being all that effective, though. Perhaps putting the two in a wind tunnel might be more effective.
Of course, Alexa is having her Noivern use Gust on the duo, and they're being blown back anyway, so the whole balloon thing is just excessive.
They're also just doing trial and error until they find something that works. Which…fair…I guess. I know a lot of things, but I don't know how exactly to stand up against a torrent of wind. However, I do know how to use this nifty little thing called the internet.
Ehh, not my problem. I'll let them be. Though, speaking of the internet…I always found it odd that we can send our pokémon to professors for safekeeping, but if we use a trading machine, then it evolves certain pokémon. Sycamore was so obsessed with Mega Evolution, we still don't have an exact answer to that.
I mean, what's the difference? We're just using pokémon in their pokéballs and…sending them across wire. As electrical signals. Turned matter into a form of energy…
I've been an idiot.
I was trying to reinvent the wheel with matter to electricity calculations, but I never thought to just fucking check if someone else had already done something similar.
Ugh. Okay. Fine. You win, World. Another point for your column.
I'll…just look up the patent info later. The whole design is so old that it's functions and blueprints have already become public-use information by now…if I'm lucky. Which, well, I've been from time to time. About 50% of the time if I want to be more accurate.
Directing my self-loathing elsewhere, I find another target of interest: Clemont. Over in the back corner of the field, with only Bonnie for company, he's building a cannon…of sorts. Perhaps some way to replicate Viola's other attacks? Well, it will most likely not be Ice Beam…anymore.
I've probably dissuaded her from using that plan for a while; especially since her next challenger was watching her as I did it.
Okay, right, yeah. Ash and friends are not doing anything particularly exciting. Maybe I'll just plan my next gym battle. Even cheap tricks and observations can only take me so far, so I'll need to do some training with my own pokémon while traveling.
My eyes gravitate towards Ash…probably not him.
Most likely with the wild pokémon or with each other under my direction. I'm sure I can come up with some system that'll make it difficult for others to fight me. I just have to make it simple enough for my pokémon to understand it.
Something something smartest bear overlaps with dumbest human or something along those lines.
Grant is famous for a few particular reasons. One, he is obsessed with climbing. Like, he'll see a wall and just have an itch to climb it. Second, he allows challengers to use their whole team while he uses only two.
I have a few options here. I could abuse a few biological inefficiencies within his Onix and Tyrunt. I could abuse the fact that my definition of whole team is not strictly limited to six. I could abuse his own psychological ticks.
Hmm…D! All of the above! There's nothing stopping me from doing that anyway! Just playing the hand I'm dealt, with a few cards I had stashed up my sleeve.
———————————————————————————————————————
Hours of planning later and venturing back to the rooms we rented, I find Serena combing Fennekin's fur on her twin-sized bed. I give a noncommittal greeting grunt as I collapse on my bed. Shifting my weight around, I manage to unlock my pokéballs, having my three pokémon appear in the room.
"You wam t goh whi Ahh…" Hmm, that didn't sound right. I turn over, unblocking my face from the bed covers. "You want to go with Ash, right?"
"Huh?" She stops, pulling Fennekin's fur in the process.
"Fen!"
"Sorry," she apologizes. "Umm…yes. Yes, I do." She shrinks into herself, almost embarrassed to admit it.
"Hmm. That's fine. You're your own person. I'll probably go off on my own, though."
"Oh…" She stops. Don't make that noise, or I'll regret this decision!
"We can exchange phone numbers. Keep in touch, right?"
"That sounds nice…"
Ugh, I feel like I'm making a mistake here. However, that's a problem for Tomorrow Nicole!
Fun Fact: I rewrote this chapter four times because I kept going in different directions with it!
Thanks for reading!
After a quick and quiet goodbye to the group, I began my journey out of Santalune City to Cyllage City. Of course, because the City Planners hate each other, I have to go back to Lumiose City, then travel to Camphrier Town.
It's a miracle that nobody's assassinated them…yet.
Of course, if I were to more adventurous type, then I could just cut through the wilderness for a while and simply cut out my return to Lumiose City.
…
…wait.
Making up my mind, I turn immediately approximately 35 degrees to the left and aim for Camphrier Town.
Clawing through the canopy line, Robin releases herself from her pokéball, scarfing herself around my neck. "Drrri!" She trills.
"Taking a shortcut," I curtly reply. "Plus, I'll have second thoughts about my choices if I go back to Lumiose right now."
"Tini!"
"Well, I guess we could work on moves in the meantime. I'd like to develop a code between us in case somebody analyzes the gym videos of me fighting and gets a handle on my battle style. It needs to be simple enough for you guys to understand but encrypted enough for it to take a while before anyone can get it." Robin doesn't really get it, but she nuzzles against me anyway.
Preferably, I'd like a Psychic-type pokémon, or some variety thereof, to interpret thoughts for me. Might be a tough battle. One, there's few psychic pokémon with powers potent enough to understand human thought—the best they can do is emotion.
Perhaps I can just develop my own psychic transponder of some sort. I mean, what are psychic abilities but the translation of thought patterns into an action on the physical world? Not too complicated.
I jest. I'd need extensive research to even begin such a monumental task.
"Rati?"
"I could catch another pokémon. Nothing's really stopping me…except my naming ability. Sorry to say, but if I catch too many of you guys, I might have to start using a name generator." Plus, what pokémon are even available here?
Slowing down only a slight bit, I shift around to pull out my phone. Going to the Pokémon Rangers' website, I look up the pokémon sightings in this forest. Hmm, let's see…
Flabébé, Ralts, Natu, Skitty, Flabébé, Buneary, Flabébé, Happiny, Budew… Why did they list each color of Flabébé as a separate entry? That's extremely redundant. I'd send a formal complaint to their webpage designer, but I'm not that petty.
…
And send…
A few of those options seem tempting…though at the same time would get me questioned. Probably named a bandwagoner since our regional champion uses a Gardevoir. Maybe I should just get a Flabébé…
Ehh, get what you get and don't throw a fit. It there's anything out here, then by destiny, it'll come to me!
Y'know. Cause there are gods here. Legends can say that there were mythical pokémon that did this and that, but I have a feeling that most of them are real. Plus, myth is rooted in truth and all that.
"Robin?" I ask, picking up my speed only slightly.
"Ri?"
"How's your memorization ability?"
"Dra. Ri?" Okay. Right. She doesn't know that. To be expected. I guess I could just test her. Wouldn't be that difficult. Just use some cards.
A basic idea I have for commands is hexadecimal commands. Have different combinations mean different objectives. I can remember it easily but making sure my pokémon know it is the difficult part.
Letting that tangential thought drift, I relax and set the arms to keep moving automatically. I could keep articulating and coordinating each arms' movements to create a smooth, comfortable ride, but it also works if I just set them to latch onto the most structurally-sound points and have them move according to the compasses, gyroscopes, and accelerometers.
That is, until a projectile is fired towards me, auto-activating the self-defense protocols in the arms. I stop, eight arms fanned out with the claws grasping, threating tactics.
Also, it looked cool.
Looking at the attacked arm, I find little damage to the limb except for…snow? Powdered snow, to be exact… This is a pokémon move, obviously, but made by whom? It's the middle of a, frankly, hotter-than-average forest. Any Ice-type pokémon that settled here would surely be not of sound mind.
Pulling out the rest of my pokémon, I edge forward. Ice types are effective against dragon and flying types, of which I have Dratini and Combee. Luckily, Hazel the Ferroseed resists quite a few types, and, despite my best efforts, still has a sizable amount of salt in her system.
Another puff of powdered snow fires at me, but one of the claws spins on its servo motor, almost tripping a fuse, and blowing away the attack. Ha! Strong against flying types, but weak to Gust!
Anyways, I could clearly see where this attack came from: within a rotting log. The claws dig into the soft, moldy wood and pry it apart.
"What…" I utter, beyond even my control. It's a Vulpix. Okay, that's only slightly monumental. This is an Alolan Vulpix. Alolan. I live in fucking Kalos, which is approximately on the other side of the world from Alola!
Okay, deep breaths… This Vulpix is small, clearly afraid of your towering figure, and…hungry. I think I heard its stomach growl.
Rational mind, go!
Okay, so in cases of a pokémon in a region or area that is not its own or of a suitable environment, it can likely be attributed to a few actions.
One, a trainer was dissatisfied with a pokémon's performance and decided to leave them behind. After a period, the pokéball that was responsible for keeping track of the pokémon reset, and they were officially let go.
Two, illegal pokémon traffickers. Teams and gangs of several regions have made a mark on the underbelly of our idyllic society by kidnapping pokémon—whether from the wild or other trainers—and forcing them into other regions.
Three, and unfortunately the saddest, either a trainer or a…mother deemed themselves unable to care for their child—or deemed unable to by fate—and left an egg behind, leaving Vulpix to fend for themselves in the wild.
Unfortunately, baby pokémon are not the greatest at this. Also, another note of interest. This Vulpix has only a single tail, meaning recently born.
"Vul!" It tries firing another Powered Snow at me, but its stamina denies it that option as the attack collapses, along with the pokémon.
With it slightly disoriented, I look around, trying to find any…Oh! Found it. Not too far away, under a bush with brush surrounding it, is two halves of an eggshell, plus fragments.
Deemed unable to, huh…by what? No matter. This child is hungry, and visibly on the last verges of their life.
I pick up the Vulpix in my arms, shivering slightly at the touch. The pokémon gives no resistance, in fact, almost cuddling into me.
"Alright…You're with me now. And soon, you'll be safe." With those slightly weird words of encouragement—probably because I'm just naturally tired and have little filter on my more esoteric thoughts with energy diverted towards emotional repression—I focus towards Camphrier Town for the nearest Pokémon Center.
Huzzah! Though I feel like death, I still yet live!
Honestly though, getting sick with the flu, then having life throw several unavoidable events at me really took it out of me.
Thanks for reading!
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