“Oh god, why does it taste so strong? It’s like they found a way to make dirt taste like peaches and bacon,” Charmander complained, struggling to eat the Pokechow from the bowl on the floor.
“Stop being such a baby. You didn’t really think you’d get to eat at the table again did you?” the fox sniped, as the ribbons worked like cute tentacles to bring the pellets daintily to her mouth. The bird only nodded, offering no commentary.
“Now remember Stanley, Miss Potts is the only teacher who agreed to let you bring a pokemon today. So keep him hidden in his ball until you get there. You’ll also need to leave him with her until the end of the school day, okay?” Eric reminded him, as he moved to pack his messenger bag, motioned at Pidgeot to follow him outside.
Narrator, just continue the story please.
Charmander, free from his pokeball, nodded at Stanley and gestured to the living room table, “Might want to start on your homework kid, you've got a long way to go to get your grades up.” He then set the envelope on the family computer keyboard, and moved to join the boy. “Now, what do you need to work on today?”
“Sure, but first you need to graduate,” the lizard chided, sliding the homework assignment on the table such that they could both read it. “OK, it says here to write a short paragraph about the discovery of the apricot and its ability to store pokemon. That shouldn't be too hard,” he said, cracking open the book and scanning the index.
“Oh right, I'm not supposed to read. Uh, look pictures!” he faltered, then excitedly pointed to an image of a blocky-shaped castle on the page. The image was somewhat cartoonish, depicting an old fortress from the pre-civilized era of Kalos.
“Shame, it's almost like you have to look in the appendix. Or, heavens forbid, read the entire chapter your teacher suggested at the start of the assignment,” Charmander mocked, fully aware there was nobody in the room able to comprehend his sarcasm. With a shrug, he backed away and headed for the door. “I'm gonna go play outside,” he announced to nobody in particular.
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Walking outside and closing the door, Charmander made his way over to where Stanley had left a few toys outside, placing one at one side of the yard, and another at the other side. The grassy flat square had a singular stone path leading from the front gate to the door, otherwise vibrant in the throes of spring. He took a stance beside one of the toys, and instantly began sprinting as best his tiny legs could to the other side of the yard. Once he reached the second toy, he made a hard slide and attempted to sprint back the way he came. He repeated this process several times, until he was too winded to keep going. Stopping in front of one of the toys, he squatted down and gripped it, before steadily lifting it off the ground. He rose to an upright stance before slowly lowering it back to the ground, careful not to bend over or arch his back. He repeated this a few times until he was unable to lift it fully and then dropped it with a huff.
“Looks like you're puttin' in some work, eh neighbor?” Perched on the fence was a Fletchling, possibly the same one he had spoken to a few days ago. “Gotta admire the initiative, I bet you're just itching for your first battle.”
With a huff, Charmander sat on the grass to catch his breath. “Not particularly, no. Especially since my trainer is a mute. I might have to figure out how to fight two on one,” he lamented, looking around to plan his next exercise.
“Oof, sorry about that, I forgot the kid was non-verbal. But hey, maybe Lady Renard might be willing to train you a bit? I heard she was a top competitor two years ago, her team earned six badges before the season ended. Most trainers barely get more than two, except for those two power couples who settled here a while back. Though, aside from the four of them, Adrienne is the best trainer in town.” The bird explained, seeming to know quite a lot about the residents of this town. Charmander, having recovered, stood up and stretched lightly.
“Speaking of battles, I have yet to have my first, actually. Would you be interested?” he proposed, a keen eye on the small bird. Things were quiet and tense for a moment before the ball of fluff chortled a playful laugh. “I know, I probably sound like a battle junkie already.”
“No, heavens no, I am just flattered you would be so honorable as to ask first. Youngsters like you tend to tackle first and ask for consent later. It's fine, I'll be your first opponent, and I'll even do you a courtesy by not using any abilities I didn't have at your age.” the little bird replied, fluttering down from the fence to the other side of the yard. “Mind you, I can't exactly go home a wreck, so let's limit this to first contact wins.”
“Sounds fine to me, though I think it'll basically be a game of how many attempts you permit me before deciding to claim victory,” the lizard responded, taking a stance and loosening his legs.
“I would suggest not to doubt yourself, but for a dragon I'd say it's remarkable you don't have an ego,” the bird complimented, preening a few feathers from its left wing. “You will likely lose, quite a lot, to start with. But as long as it takes you longer and longer to lose, that's a victory in itself,” it explained, adopting the persona of the wise master.
“I mean, I'm not a dragon type, but mostly I don't want to get in the mindset that I am guaranteed to win every time. That's unhealthy and can lead to problems and bad sportsmanship later. Anyway, ready when you are,” the fire type responded, shifting into a ready stance, with his right leg forward and left slightly back, both arms up and claws at the ready, tail gently swishing behind him in a slow quarter-time oscillation.
“Then, let's begin. Show me what you can do, young blood!”
Charmander led with a charge, swiping forward with his right claw in a wide arc once he was within distance of the bird. The telegraphed move was too slow, as his opponent gave a slight hop backwards and out of reach. Following up, he used the momentum of the swing to pivot on his forward right foot, spinning around to swipe with his fiery tail, again too slow as the small bird leapt over the tail without retreating. “Interesting combo, Scratch into a fake Tail Whip? Not bad, but not quick enough yet, and you left yourself open for a counter there,” his opponent remarked. Finishing the turn to face his opponent, Charmander sucked in a deep breath and held it, his cheeks puffing as he appeared to be preparing to exhale on the bird. “Oh wow you can use Ember already?”
The bird hopped back in response, as the lizard smiled and exhaled loudly with a laugh. “No, not yet, but it would've been an easy hit that close,” he clarified, earning a laugh and nod in agreement from his opponent. Ready for round two, Charmander ran in again, this time opting for a sequence of Scratch attacks using both hands and alternating angles of attack. The small bird seemed to dodge them effortlessly, amused and unphased by the rapid onslaught. With a swing, Charmander leaned into the momentum, going for another spinning attack. Fletchling, anticipating a repeat of before, leapt lightly off the group to avoid the tail, before having to spread its wings in a panic and flap backwards as the tail soars through where it had just jumped up to.
“Good, anticipating where I would be, leading me into the strike zone, you learn quickly. I guess that's all you can do for now though, so how about you practice dodging?” the bird suggested, currently hovering in the air while flapping its wings before moving in for a strike. As it dove in for a Peck, the lizard waited and threw himself backwards, throwing up both legs for a simultaneous strike. Both pokemon landed a hit on each other, with Charmander being obviously worse for wear. “Interesting, I don't think you can really get the same punch as a energy-powered Double Kick, though props for ingenuity,” Fletchling commended, unharmed and unscratched, while the orange lizard struggled to stand up.
“Damn, I think you could one-shot me if you hadn't held back,” Charmander groaned, rubbing at the sore spot where the beak had made contact. “Though, you are right; I don't think I can learn Double Kick, I just wanted to try to make it a draw instead of a plain loss,” he explained, as the bruise began to gently fade.
The bird nodded, “Good, a draw is always better than a loss. In a team battle, a draw means one less opponent that your team has to deal with. Though, with your instincts, I suspect you may not face as many losses as you originally predicted. Now, at your age you probably can only use Scratch and Growl, but that's a better starting point than a Magikarp,” Fletching jested, drawing a slight laugh from the three of them. Caught off-guard by the third voice, both sparring partners glanced at the front gate, where Adrienne and Fée'Renard were observing.
Adrienne gave a light-hearted, appreciative golf clap from the show, while Lady Renard entered the front yard, “A good first showing, young one, but you have plenty of growth ahead of you if you seek to challenge the gym circuit. I am amused, and grateful that you show such promise,” she mused. “Now that you have my attention, and given that dinner is still a few hours away, how about we begin your training?”
With a heavy exhale and a grin, Charmander stood tall, “Yes, Sensei.” Fletchling gave a light whistle of a tune, wishing the pair a good evening and flying off. “How much of the battle did you see?” Adrienne giggled before giving a thumbs-up to the duo, continuing inside the house to start cooking.
“Improvisation, combinations and chain attacks, adaptation to enemy movements, and even a clever feint. I had expected a useless whelp, but instead I have a weakened warrior for a student. Were you capable of learning my special moves, I would consider you a potential future six badge competitor,” she responded, slowly stalking around the lizard and taking stock of his injuries. “Speed, power, and special moves will come with time and training; the important thing is you have the right mind-set. So, let us begin,” she stated, sitting down directly in-front of Charmander. “I will use only one ribbon to block. Your goal is to either hit me with a Scratch, or get me to move from this spot,” she explained with surety, as one of her ribbons rose to float between the two combatants, the other relaxed beside her.
Taking a deep breath, Charmander once again took his ready pose, before gently exhaling and beginning his assault. Left, right, left, left, right; he did his best to vary each strike, each angle of attack, his timing, every attempt deflected by the sole white and pink ribbon. The little lizard kept up the pressure until he had to back off to catch his breath, the squiggle of a ribbon seeming to dance in a taunt. Ready, he pressed in again, except when the ribbon moved to block his left strike, he shifted into a grab, holding the ribbon while he moved in to attack with his right. Sylveon smiled, pivoting the ribbon to block his right claw with the middle of its length. And with a corresponding grin, Charmander grappled that too, lifting his left foot for a kick, aiming to scratch with his toes. Matching his madness, Sylveon's ribbon lifted and threw him to the side, as effortlessly as he was a cloud.
“As I said, adaptability. You have a mind for fighting, but we need to get your body to keep up,” she said, her predatory gaze on the orange lizard. “Until you can get past my ribbon, you aren't ready to leave town. Now, get up and let's see how quickly you can dodge.”
Just your luck, looking like a young Dragon and captivating the interest of a Faerie type.