Tuesday, June 20th, 1978, 1300

East Vermilion Battle Center

I sent Nana’s ball out with a flick of my wrist, the canine pokemon materializing in a flash of red light near the center of the arena. He looked around warily as he took in his surroundings; his black nose twitched at the myriad of scents assaulting his senses.

“Your opponent just hurt Larvitar. Badly,” I told him. “No fucking around.”

Nana gave a low but controlled growl at my words, his body coiling like a viper poised to strike at the slightest provocation. Fortunately for us, there wasn’t much strategy to consider here from a strategic standpoint.

Magneton was a relatively immobile artillery-like pokemon that performed well against slower, physically inclined pokemon that struggled to close distance effectively. Despite the earlier Iron Defense, its defenses weren’t anything to write home about. All Nana had to do was get in range for a good Flamethrower. And that, he could do.

“Shit,” Samantha cursed, frowning at the poor matchup. “Maggie, use Thunderbolt! Quick, before he can get close! And gain altitude.”

“Quick Attack into Flamethrower.”

My heart was beating like crazy, but my voice somehow sounded calm over the sound system. Or at least I told myself it did.

The Magneton crackled and immediately shot a thick beam of electricity at Nana’s position in less than a second.

But Nana was no Larvitar, and he easily dodged out of the way, wrapped in the sheen of white light indicative of normal energy. The missed attack burned into the ground, sending a plume of dirt up into the air that obscured the field with fragments of the arena itself.

Nana blurred forward, using his speed to evade several more panicked bolts of lightning before releasing a devastating cone of fire from directly below his opponent, the flames spewing several meters into the sky.

A pained keening sound emanated from within the conflagration before the mass of superheated metal crashed down to the dirt with a subdued clang. Nana bounded forward, looking ready to rip the vulnerable pokémon’s now soft flesh to pieces but was interrupted by the referee’s anxious voice.

“Samantha’s pokemon is unable to continue,” he said hurriedly, as if concerned Nana was about to kill the pokemon right there in front of everyone.

Unfounded concerns, I thought, feeling almost offended. Nana is a professional. He would only kill if I ordered him to.

“You have sixty seconds to send out your next pokemon.”

“A Growlithe, huh?” Samantha mused as she returned her downed pokemon. “And a huge one, at that. Bigger than I’ve ever seen, and I’ve seen a damn lot of those puppies. What the hell do you feed that thing?”

“The blood of his enemies,” I deadpanned, keeping my face neutral. “Everything tastes better when you feast on the flesh of your defeated enemies.”

“W-what? What are you talking about?!”

Uh oh. Did she think I was being serious? I wondered, a frown etching itself onto my face. This might be bad for my reputation. “I’m kidding,” I clarified, laughing nervously. “Just lots of high-quality food. Are you sending your pokemon out, or what?”

“Fine,” she scowled. “Sandy, you’re up.” She tossed a ball out, releasing a bipedal pokemon that stood nearly as tall as she was despite its hunched over posture. Row upon row of dark-brown spines layered on its back like a bizarre pincushion-armor. It sported a massive pair of viciously sharp claws that looked entirely at odds with its otherwise cute-looking face.

A Sandslash. My frown deepened. Not a great matchup for Nana.

I needed to ensure Nana didn’t end up in a close-range brawl. Despite his years of training, it was still tough to beat an evolved form like that, especially one with a size advantage. Even if he managed to win, he would likely be too banged up to do much against the next pokemon, leaving Eon to contend with a powerful Electabuzz and who knows what else. But that would probably be the case anyway. I didn’t see any way he would get out of this match unscathed.

If he gets to the next pokemon, I corrected myself. Don’t count your Pidgey’s before they hatch, Mare.

“Evade and pepper it with Ember,” I ordered. “Don’t engage it close if you can help it.”

“Rollout into Bulldoze,” Samantha called out, sweeping her hand out dramatically as if she were conducting an orchestra.

The Sandslash curled up into a tight ball, using the efficient position to head in Nana’s direction, kicking up a huge cloud of dirt along the way.

Following my orders perfectly, Nana shot off a series of fiery orbs that melted ineffectually into his opponent’s tough hide before slipping out of the way via Quick Attack.

This pattern repeated for the next few moments; the Sandslash would close in, with Nana dodging at the last second to let the pokemon scream by. It reminded me of a story I had read about trainers using this technique to exhaust wild Tauros in order to catch them.

It wasn’t working.

Or at least not well enough. On one hand, Nana wasn’t getting hurt, but on the other, his opponent seemed to be mostly unscathed, with only a few blackened spots here and there without any damage being done on the vulnerable flesh of its anterior.

But Nana was tiring rapidly. Repeated Quick Attacks, paired with his constant harrying tactics were wearing out his energy stores faster than I would have liked, while his opponent was easily able to keep up the much less energy intensive Rollout. The current pattern wasn’t sustainable.

I really need to get a Fire Stone for him, I thought as I watched the ongoing battle in frustrated silence.

As if sensing the same thing, Samantha doubled down as she called out excitedly, “He’s tiring! You can see it in his movements! Keep up the Rollout until he can’t get out of the way!”

I cursed internally, wishing she hadn’t noticed the subtle signs of exhaustion Nana was giving off. It wasn’t like they were easily visible. I could only tell because I had spent years around him.

“Forget using Ember!” I ordered. “It’s not strong enough; try to get some distance and hit it with a Flamethrower. Aim for the face and chest if you can.”

Immediately obeying, Nana shot across the arena to get as much distance as possible, which wasn’t much considering how narrow the space was. He turned and released another cone of fire towards the charging pokemon. It was impossible to miss.

My hands clenched with anticipation as I waited to see the damage; between the fire and cloud of dirt, there was much less visibility than I would have liked, and I struggled to get a clear visual.

My heart fell as the ground type shot out of the fiery dust storm looking blackened but still mostly uninjured; its thick hide of spines apparently kept it nearly impervious to attacks as long as it had its belly and face curled inwards.

Nana, eyes widening slightly, barely managed to dodge out of the way, pushing his Quick Attack endurance to the limit to continue his increasingly frantic dodging. He shot towards the other side of the arena once more, eying his opponent warily.

I breathed a sigh of relief at the dodge. We still had the advantage, if just slightly, considering the Sandslash had yet to make contact. Even if Nana wasn’t doing much damage, it was still more than nothing.

“Tch,” Samantha said, clicking her tongue. “That’s like what, twenty Quick Attacks now? Unreal endurance, man. Sandy, dig deep and jump em’.”

Her pokemon immediately popped out of its curled-up position and dove into the ground, moving through the ground like a fish in water. Its type energy manipulation was so smooth there wasn’t even a bump to be seen.

I was impressed. There was usually some indication of where the pokemon was headed unless it went really deep, which this Sandslash appeared to be capable of. Without any visual cues it was nearly impossible to detect, meaning we were relying entirely on Nana’s reaction time to avoid an impending strike.

Frankly, I was lucky she hadn’t just started with this tactic. But we still had to deal with it now. “Try to jump out of the way if it pops out,” I said. “And if that doesn’t work, I want you to hit it with a close-range Fire Blast.”

Nana looked back at me skeptically, but I nodded my encouragement, earning the doggie equivalent of a resigned shrug. He had been working to master the move for months but had yet to land a full-powered Fire Blast. But I had faith in him.

“For Larvitar,” I added, hoping the extra motivation might help. You can do this. I know you can. At my sides, my fists clenched and released repeatedly.

“You’re bluffing,” Samantha scoffed. “No way your Growlithe can manage an actual Fire Blast. Calling a Flamethrower a Fire Blast doesn’t make it true.”

I remained silent; he would either manage it, or he wouldn’t, and he would likely lose this match if he failed. It was clear by this point that weaker fire attacks weren’t enough to make it through the ground-type’s resilient defenses unless Nana somehow managed to land a shot anywhere other than his opponents tough posterior armor plating, which the Sandslash seemed acutely aware of.

The tension in the air grew heavy as second after second passed with no sign of the ground type. Nana looked around cautiously, his eyes darting back and forth as if he could somehow visually discern where his opponent was.

Even Samantha started to look uncertain after at least a minute passed with no sign of her pokemon. Just as I was about to open my mouth, it struck, bursting out of the ground a meter behind Nana in a flurry of debris.

He attempted to bolt out of the way, but one of his opponent’s long, curving claws managed to snag into his flank. As if sensing victory, the pokemon exploded into motion, slashing and ripping into Nana with abandon.

In seconds, blood and pieces of floor littered the ground. The Sandslash deftly maneuvered behind Nana, using its bulk to press him into the ground.

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“You gotta’ do it now,” I whispered. “You can do this.”

But no Fire Blast came, and Nana’s whimpers became quieter and quieter as he was forced to cover his face and eyes from the onslaught of brutal attacks raining down upon him.

Shit, I thought, preparing to recall him before permanent damage was done. Pokemon centers could do a lot of things, but regenerating eyes was not one of them. Even if I thought Nana could take this kind of abuse, it wasn’t worth it. This is it.

But I was wrong.

Just as I concluded the match was over, the Sandslash, whose body had nearly entirely covered Nana at this point, began screeching in pain as dense smoke began wafting from its seared anterior, having finally relinquished its defensive posture as it went for the kill.

White hot clouds of fire came in waves from Nana’s flesh as he emerged from beneath his opponent, burning both him and his opponent alike. He growled through the pain, a primal and guttural noise, before pushing further into the Sandslash, who was doing all it could to escape the fiery effigy.

Both Samantha and I winced at the wall of heat; it was powerful enough even from twenty meters away to cause my eyes to water and my skin to burn; I felt like I had been under the hot sun for hours. Pinpricks of sweat prickled into existence all over my body, and I found myself regretting the heavy canvas clothes I had chosen for the day.

Overheat, I realized in dawning awareness, having seen Kuro use the move many times before. It heavily damaged the user but was positively lethal to its target—apparently even second stage ground types.

I had never considered teaching Nana the move, riddled with downsides as it was. But it must have come more naturally to him than Fire Blast, perhaps due to his sire’s expertise with the move.

“Shit shit shit,” Samantha said, her voice clearly panicked. “Use Dig again! Get away from that… thing!”

But her orders fell on deaf ears; her pokemon was in too much pain to think rationally, not having been exposed to the unique type of agony that came with such burns. Frankly, I doubted the powerful ground type had ever seriously been burnt at all.

Well, not anymore, I thought with satisfaction as Nana continued to press forward, step by agonizing step.

A few seconds more, and the match was over, both of our pokemon collapsing onto the sand—which now sported more than a few patches of glass.

“Both pokemon are unable to continue,” the referee said, fanning himself frantically to cool down from his undesirable position so close to the action. He turned my way, “The challenger has sixty seconds to release his next pokemon.”

“Holy shit,” Samantha said, her eyes drawn up in surprise. “I did not see that coming. I gotta’ admit, I’m impressed. But that had to have been your ace.” She smiled smugly. “Let’s get moving; I still have more matches to win. There’s no way you can down my remaining two.”

Not bothering to respond, I simply sent Eon’s ball spinning to the center of the arena. It was my first time using her in a match after her evolution. We had explored her capabilities extensively on the way to Vermilion, however, and I was excited to test them out on such a seemingly powerful opponent.

In contrast to Nana’s aggressive entrance, Eon simply sat there nonchalantly, licking her paws as if she didn’t have a care in the world. I knew better, though. She was here for blood, likely realizing she would have been the last to be sent out.

Samantha’s eyebrow twitched at the blatant disrespect, but she looked at Eon consideringly, her hand going back and forth between the two balls on her belt.

I knew one was Electabuzz, so the fact that she didn’t decide immediately told me that neither was a particularly good matchup, which was a relief since Eon still had an uphill battle ahead of her.

“Let’s go Kangha-mom,” Samantha said, once more wearing a confident smile as she spent a banged up great ball out to the middle of the field.

I blinked at the ridiculous name as the flash of familiar red light materialized into a hulking saurian form; the Kangaskhan stood over two meters tall and looked like it weighed several hundred kilograms. In contrast to what I had come to expect from the pokemon, it didn’t have a baby in its pouch at all and glared our way without the tiniest hint of maternal instinct.

I scoured my brain for what I knew about the rarely seen pokemon. It was a normal type but was capable of learning a diverse range of long-range moves from Blizzard to Thunder. But its versatility came at a sacrifice; although it could learn plenty of moves, they would never be very powerful due to its limited ability to harness type energy stores. It had maybe one decent elemental attack in it before it petered out—unless it was completely dedicated to that strategy, in which case it might get a few more.

The greater problem, however, was that it could also learn a large number of fighting moves. And it excelled at them, having great power and bulk at the cost of endurance. And it was surprisingly fast in short bursts, if I recalled correctly.

Depending on the route my opponent took in raising her pokemon, it was either going to be a breeze or a nightmare.

But nightmare or not, I knew there was no way Eon was going to lose this match.

“Eon, let it come to you. Harassing tactics,” I said, keeping my orders intentionally vague. Eon knew what to do; we had drilled different strategies extensively over the last week on our way to Vermilion.

“Get in there and start swinging,” Samantha ordered. “Hammer Arm or Brick Break should do just fine.”

­Fuck, I cursed internally. It seemed like her pokemon had taken the close ranged approach.

The massive pokemon sprinted forward, displaying its speed as its right arm began glowing with a rusty hue in the telltale aura of fighting energy.

Eon’s eyes glinted red for an instant, making quick use of Baby-Doll eyes to blunt her opponent’s attack; it worked, and the charging pokemon stumbled for a fleeting moment as its strength was diminished, its slackened muscles no longer obeying in the way it wanted them to.

Eon capitalized instantly, bounding forward to release a spray of sizzling blackish purple fluid from tiny pores all over her body, disrupting her opponents attack as its flesh began sloughing off from the powerful poison type move.

Toxic, paired with Eon’s natural biological defenses.

A brutal combo, in my opinion. It was nearly impossible to dodge if a pokemon was committed to attacking, and Umbreon was rare enough that I doubted most trainers knew about her poisonous sweat glands.

Kiriel had included her Gym’s staple TM in my pack, which I had quickly made use of for the dark type. It was paying dividends now, as the Kangaskhan writhed in pain, its tough skin taking on a faint pallor as the powerful toxin worked its way through its system.

“That’s a nasty fucking trick, man,” Samantha said darkly, her voice taking on an edge it lacked before. “Shake it off, Kanga. Roll in the dirt if you need to; you have to get in at least a few attacks before you go down. It probably feels worse than it is—try to ignore the pain!”

Hearing her trainer’s voice, the pokemon calmed down, throwing itself to the ground in an attempt to rub off as much of the oily poison as possible before clambering back to her feet with a newfound sense of respect in her gaze.

“Don’t give her a chance, Eon,” I said. “Sand Attack if she lunges. Hit her with a Dark Pulse otherwise.”

Eon sauntered forward, ignoring my bid for urgency as she steadily closed in on the larger pokemon as if giving her a second chance.

Drama queen, I thought, suppressing a chuckle. She’s really playing this up.

As I suspected, the saurian lunged; it looked like she was once again going for a Hammer Arm.

Ignoring my orders, Eon continued forward, her eyes glinting as she walked into the attack. The Kangaskhan’s empowered fist slammed into her side with a gruesome squelching noise, easily piercing through her defenses due to the type disadvantage.

Although I didn’t have the opportunity to look behind me, I imagined there was a crowd of trainers collectively wincing at the devastating strike my pokemon had seemingly intentionally absorbed.

But Eon didn’t falter.

A flurry of shadowy cords erupted from all across her body, spilling out hungrily towards her poisoned opponent in a roiling mass of inky blackness that sent a surge of bile to the back of my throat. A flash of mocking, biting laughter could be heard for an instant as the attack struck, wrapping around the Kangaskhan in thick ropes.

I grimaced, despite knowing what to expect. In contrast to the life-sucking cold of ghost type attacks, the shadows burned through the already damaged pokémon’s thick layers of fat and muscle through sheer force of virulent emotion.

Dark type attacks were little understood, not following the same rules as the more common elemental types. Together with Fairy, Ghost, and Dragon, they operated on an entirely different system that many researchers had dedicated their lives to deciphering.

But after my experience with Adrien’s Hypno, and almost dying, I thought I understood at least a little bit; dark type attacks were empowered by pain.

The pain of loss, the pain of suffering. The pain of injustice, real or perceived. Of being beaten down over and over again.

Now that I understood things a bit better, it was no surprise that Eon had evolved into an Umbreon. The sheer abuse she had experienced at the hands of the Seiichi training methodology had nearly ensured it.

Shattered limbs and raw flesh had been the norm more often than not for most of her life by this point. But it had made her powerful. Much stronger than she might have been as a Vaporeon, as I had once dreamed of.

I had to admit I was surprised by her intentionally taking damage, but after seeing how much more powerful her Dark Pulse became, I couldn’t fault her for the decision and mentally filed it as a viable if not particularly appealing strategy. But at least she had several methods to heal. And she knew her limitations better than anyone.

“Kanga, return.” Samantha withdrew her pokemon with a disgusted look on her face. I couldn’t blame her; it had been struggling ineffectually to escape the choking tendrils of darkness, its tissues burning away the entire time, consumed by the ravenous energy empowered by the viciousness of its own strike.

The scent of burnt and dissolved flesh hung heavily in the air. I idly wondered if the psychic barriers prevented the smell from leaking through.

Looking uncertainly back and forth, the ref called out, “Samantha’s pokemon is no longer able to battle. She has sixty seconds to send out her last pokemon.”

“That was fucked up, man,” Samantha said, shaking her head as she tossed her last pokéball up and down. “I’ve never seen something like that in my life, and I’ve seen a lot.”

I ignored her. “Eon, Moonlight.”

Deigning to obey me—this time, at least—Eon sauntered back towards the center of the arena and sat down, licking the blood from her paws, ironically making my earlier comment a reality.

Her normally golden rings faded to the faintest of pinks as her torn side began methodically stitching itself back up. A few seconds later, the flickers of white rib and yellow fat poking through the ragged hole had retreated back into her body, leaving an unblemished patch of matte black fur in its place.

“Unbelievable,’ Samantha sighed, her face stony. “Let’s get this over with, Ziggy,” she said as she tossed out her remaining pokemon. The Electabuzz that had first caught my eye emerged at the edge of the arena—well away from Eon.

She was trying to keep her distance this time. It wasn’t a bad idea by any means, but I doubted her pokemon had the power to take Eon down from range unless it managed to repeatedly hit her with fully empowered Thunders.

“Ziggy!” Samantha called out. “Despite its looks, that thing is a fucking menace; don’t let it get close. You should be easily able to outpace it with Quick Attack. Keep hitting it with Thunderbolt!”

“Chase it down, Eon,” I said calmly. If she wanted to make it a battle of endurance I was more than prepared. “Don’t bother dodging the attacks; just go for a decisive strike when the opportunity arises.”

Both pokemon immediately jumped into a game of cat and mouse, darting all over the arena. The Electabuzz haphazardly shot off Thunderbolts whenever it had the chance, and Eon doggedly kept pace behind it.

Following my orders this time, thankfully, Eon made no effort to actually dodge the strikes, simply surging through them with a stoic grimace. Her coat did wonders to dampen the efficacy of the electric type-energy, the power dissipating through the springy material without doing any serious damage.

Samantha was right; Eon wasn’t nearly as quick as the Electabuzz, even when using Quick Attack. For the first few minutes of the dance, she struggled to get within even a few meters of her opponent before inevitably getting blasted with attacks.

But it didn’t matter; the Electabuzz was tiring faster than she was, unable to keep up with the massive output its trainer had ordered. It was pulling in heaving lungfuls of air as Eon got closer and closer with each exchange until she finally struck.

The Dark Pulse wasn’t nearly as powerful as the first, partly because she had expended a large amount of energy, but also because the Electabuzz simply hadn’t been able to hold a candle to the amount of damage the Kangaskhan had inflicted.

But it still did the trick; the shadowy tendrils latched onto her opponent’s arm as it was trying to skirt by, before pulling it in where Eon finished it with another blast of Toxic from her sweat glands, which were going at full force due to the ongoing battle.

As the Electabuzz finally fell, a wave of exhaustion passed through me, and I had to catch myself from staggering.

I did it, I realized, sucking in a huge breath as I walked to the center of the arena to shake my opponent’s hand. I’m not bad at this. I won against a serious trainer at a Battle Center!

Although some part of me had known my team was strong, having it confirmed felt better than I could have ever imagined. Despite my showing against Dani on the second day of my journey, I had still doubted. Still wondered if I would be able to make my clan proud, despite hating my role in it all the while.

I’m not bad at this, I told myself, confidently this time. Sula is a freak. Kiriel is a freak. I am good at this, and my pokemon are strong.

I, am strong.

With a renewed sense of confidence, I shook my opponent's hand. Despite her loss, she was smiling wryly.

“Not a bad match,” she said. “Not at all. Mare, was it? I’ll remember the name.” We finished shaking and she reached into her pocket to pull out a wad of bills, but I stopped her before she handed them over.

“Save your money,” I said, an idea forming in my mind. “Tell you what; I’ll pay you if you’ll give me another few matches just like that.”