Chapter 2: “Poison’s Bastard”:

The door to my room clicked shut softly. The air seemed heavier, as if the stillness of the night had seeped into the walls. Grimer, my lazy companion, remained asleep in his corner, blissfully unaware of everything. I stayed seated on my bed, heart racing and mind swirling with thoughts.

That moment, lasting only a few seconds, felt like an eternity. My grandmother’s words still echoed in my head:

“We need to talk alone, Aspen. It’s important.”

It felt like time had slowed down after she’d said that. I let out a small sigh, trying to shake off the uneasiness that gripped me. I picked up my phone to check the time: 11:47 PM. The same tingling nerves I’d felt as a kid, hearing stories about trainers setting out to challenge Gyms without looking back, were back. But this wasn’t an innocent adventure—this was something far more serious and dark.

My grandmother, barely taking her eyes off me, leaned on her cane. She was sitting on the edge of my bed, and her gaze carried a determination I had rarely seen. She was the same woman who spent her afternoons tending berries in the garden, but now there was something in her posture that suggested a world of secrets hidden beneath her composed demeanor.

“I’m sure you’re wondering why I came to see you at this hour,” she began, her voice a mix of firmness and worry. “The truth is, I couldn’t wait any longer. Your classes at the Kanto Academy are about to begin, and before you step into that place, there’s something you need to hear—something that will change how you see the world.”

I sat up straighter, swallowing hard. At dinner, Grandma had been unusually quiet. She and Mom had once again argued about the “freedom” trainers once had to travel and battle at a young age versus the new rules requiring formal education until adulthood. I never thought that routine argument would lead to such a tense late-night conversation.

“I’m ready to hear you, Grandma,” I said, trying to sound braver than I felt.

Her shadow stretched across the wall behind her, its edges shifting unnaturally, as if it had a life of its own. I blinked, wondering if I was imagining it. Grandma, however, didn’t seem to notice. She took a deep breath before speaking again.

“Do you know anything about the real origins of the PFL?” she asked, keeping her eyes fixed on mine.

“Well, I know the Pokémon League Federation is the organization that coordinates Gym battles and trainer education,” I replied. “And… that it was created to unite all regions under one system.”

Grandma nodded slightly, as if my answer were the reflection of a lesson memorized in class.

“Exactly. That’s the official version. What they don’t teach you in school or show on the news is what happened before it was founded. Decades—no, centuries ago—each region was home to several Pokémon clans of the same type. For example, in Kanto, there was a Dragon Clan that claimed to inherit a certain lineage, while in Unova, another Dragon Clan claimed to hold the true strength of that type. This happened with every type: Fire, Water, Electric, Grass, Poison… countless factions fought for dominance over their element.”

She leaned more heavily on her cane, and her voice dropped a tone.

“Then something happened that few know about—a kind of global ‘cold war.’ It wasn’t an open war but isolated conflicts, espionage, silent assassinations, and forced alliances. In the end, only one major clan remained for each of the eighteen Pokémon types. These surviving clans decided to create the PFL—the Pokémon League Federation—to present a united front and rule in a more ‘civilized’ way.”

My breathing grew heavier. I was hearing a completely different version of the polished story I’d been taught. I thought about how, for years, my mom—who worked in IT for the PFL—had spoken of it as a visionary and just institution.

“So… you’re saying the PFL was formed after a process of elimination and forced mergers between clans?” I asked, trying to process it.

“That’s right. In some regions, multiple clans wiped each other out, while in others, they joined forces to fight a larger threat. In the end, each elemental type came under the control of a single clan, which became known as the ‘House’ or ‘Main Clan.’ That’s how the narrative of unification was crafted.”

I leaned back against the headboard, feeling a lump in my throat. In his corner, Grimer kept sleeping peacefully, oblivious to the conversation that felt so overwhelming to me.

“What does this have to do with me?” I ventured.

Grandma frowned slightly. It was clear that talking about this pained her. At last, she sighed.

“It’s not just about you—it’s about our family. You see, in Kanto, the Poison Clan rose to power under a man named Koga, who is now known as a member of the Elite Four. Before that, there were several rival Poison clans, but Koga and his followers were… ruthless. They earned a reputation as lethal ninjas. Many were killed or disappeared, and in the end, Koga’s clan became the sole representative of the Poison type in the PFL.”

I swallowed hard, recalling how Grandma had, in her youth, briefly mentioned “assassin ninjas” who tolerated no dissent. She had never gone into detail.

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“And… were you part of one of those rival Poison clans?” I asked, my heart pounding.

She tilted her head slightly.

“Yes. Or rather, I grew up in an environment where Pokémon toxins were studied for purposes that weren’t always legal. I met your grandfather, and for him… I gave it all up. But it wasn’t easy—the clan didn’t let me go without a fight. I had to face several of their best warriors. I survived, though not without scars—scars I’ve never shown anyone.”

A chill ran down my spine. My grandmother, the energetic woman who cultivated berries with apparent simplicity, had fought clandestine battles against Poison ninjas. Suddenly, I noticed her shadow shifting on the wall again, its movements oddly alive, as if it reveled in macabre memories.

“Grandma… I had no idea this was part of your past,” I whispered, feeling incredibly small.

She tried to relax her shoulders, as if to downplay it.

“I didn’t want to involve you. But I see signs that you’ve inherited a certain affinity for poison—just like your Uncle Todd and I did in our youth. And when you enter the Academy, you’ll quickly learn that such an affinity doesn’t go unnoticed, especially if the wrong people see it.”

“Affinity for poison?” I repeated, confused.

“That ease you have with Poison-type Pokémon, your lack of hesitation when handling substances others would find repulsive—it’s not just habit or coincidence. And Grimer, your companion, amplifies that connection.” She turned to look at him. “That Grimer is one of the few good things your father has ever done. Don’t ask me how he chose it for you, though—I’m not sure how much he knows.”

I stayed silent, remembering that my father—absent in nearly everything—had sent me the Alolan Pokémon by mail when I turned fourteen. His note had only said: “Take good care of it. It may suit you more than you think.” I’d never understood what he meant… until now.

Grandma tapped her cane against the floor, snapping my attention back to her.

“But that’s not all,” she said, her voice taking on a solemn edge. “I developed a unique technique based on my knowledge and a stolen scroll from the Normal Clan. It’s called the ‘Five Poison Organs.’”

The name echoed in my mind, conjuring images of dark rituals. I had no idea what she was talking about, but I felt a knot forming in my stomach.

“Five Poison Organs?” I repeated, chills running down my spine.

Grandma took a moment before answering, her gaze distant. “During my time in the clan, I traveled a lot, eager to learn how other clans of different types functioned. Through… questionable means, I obtained a manuscript from the Normal Clan. It described a technique to channel life energy into specific parts of the body—what they called ‘organs’—and harness it for extraordinary abilities. I fused this knowledge with my studies of poison, creating something entirely new. That fusion became the technique I named the Five Poison Organs.”

She paused, her voice tinged with the weight of memory. Her shadow, stretching across the wall, seemed to broaden at the shoulders, like it was taking on a life of its own.

“And what exactly does this technique do?” I asked, hesitant but unable to stop myself.

Her response came slowly, as if the words were heavy in her mouth. “It allows those with an affinity for poison to absorb part of a Poison-type Pokémon’s essence—its toxins or, in extreme cases, its blood. This essence is then divided within the practitioner’s body, stored in five key ‘organs,’ each corresponding to a fundamental element. The result is a body enhanced in ways that border on the unnatural. Greater resistance to toxins, faster regeneration, improved reflexes… but there’s a catch. If the ritual is started and not completed, the poison will consume you from within.”

I swallowed hard, my mind struggling to keep up with what I was hearing. “And… did you do this yourself?”

Grandma’s face hardened, and her voice dropped to a whisper. “Five times. Each time, I risked my life to absorb abilities from different Poison Pokémon. The power it grants is immense, but the price… the price is steep. And when the clan learned I had mastered this technique, they refused to let me go peacefully.”

My hands trembled slightly as I imagined my grandmother undergoing such an extreme process. I glanced at Grimer, still peacefully sleeping in the corner, blissfully unaware of the weight of the conversation.

“Are you telling me… that I could do this too?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

Grandma seemed to notice the tremor in my tone. She softened her expression, leaning forward slightly. “I’m not saying you should follow in my footsteps, Aspen. I’m only telling you this so you know the truth. If one day you find yourself cornered, with no way to protect yourself or those you care about, the Five Poison Organs technique could be an option. But it’s a dangerous one, and it’s not a path to tread lightly.”

She reached into her coat and pulled out a rolled-up scroll. Its edges were frayed with age, and strange symbols and seals adorned its surface.

“This,” she said, holding it out to me, “is the foundation of the technique. The principles are written here in a way that only someone with our affinity can understand. For most people, it would appear as gibberish or a blank page. If you ever want to learn more, I’ll teach you. But for now, keep it safe.”

I hesitated, staring at the scroll as if it might explode in my hands. “And Grimer?” I blurted out, trying to connect the dots. “You said his ability—‘Chemical Reaction’—might be important?”

Grandma nodded. “Exactly. Alolan Grimer and Muk are special because their ‘Chemical Reaction’ ability allows them to digest toxic waste and stabilize it, neutralizing its most harmful effects. This makes them ideal companions for the Five Poison Organs technique. Their essence can be absorbed with a slightly reduced risk.”

Her words hung in the air as I stared at Grimer, who shifted slightly in his sleep, his multicolored body gleaming faintly in the dim light. The idea of consuming part of him—his toxins or, worse, his blood—was nauseating.

“I’m not asking you to decide anything now,” Grandma said, sensing my unease. “But I need you to know the risks and the truths that the Academy won’t teach you. When you start there, don’t trust anyone too quickly. The PFL keeps a tight grip on poison-related knowledge, and there are those who will be watching—whether they’re tied to Koga’s clan or someone else with hidden agendas.”

Her warning sent a shiver down my spine.

“So… Koga’s Poison Clan still operates in the shadows?” I asked, struggling to keep my voice steady.

She pressed her lips together before answering. “I can’t say for certain, but my instincts tell me they do. Koga and his allies are very selective about who they share their secrets with. If they discover you have an affinity for poison, they may try to recruit you—or silence you, depending on whether they see you as an asset or a threat.”

The room grew even heavier with her words. I had always thought the Academy would be a place of learning, battles, and fun—not a minefield of secrets and danger.

“This is too much,” I whispered, my chest tight with anxiety. “Do you really think I’m in danger?”

Grandma reached out, placing a hand on my shoulder. Her grip was firm but comforting. “I don’t know, Aspen. I hope not. But I’d rather you be prepared than caught off guard. Remember, if anything feels wrong, come to me. I’ll guide you as best I can.”

She stood slowly, leaning on her cane. Her shadow stretched across the wall again, and for a moment, I thought I saw it smirk at me. I rubbed my eyes, but when I looked again, it was just a shadow—an ordinary silhouette.

“Your shadow… does it always do that?” I asked hesitantly.

He paused at the door, not turning to me. “He’s just an old friend, he’s always been here but he can’t seem to handle the old memories. Whenever you want to learn the recipe, just look at the scroll and when you have time, come to me and I’ll help you understand it. But don’t be in a hurry to do anything.”Her voice softened. “Good night, Aspen.”

With that, she opened the door and left, leaving behind an oppressive silence.

I sat there, unmoving, as the weight of her revelations settled over me. My gaze fell to the scroll she had left on my nightstand. When I touched it, the rough texture of the old paper sent a strange tingling through my fingertips, like a faint current of energy.

“Five Poison Organs,” I murmured to myself, the words heavy with foreboding.

I tucked the scroll away into a drawer beneath some old notes on Poké Ball mechanics, hoping to bury it from sight and mind. My eyes wandered to Grimer, who let out a soft grunt in his sleep.

“Do you think I’ll ever have to use it?” I asked him softly, though I already knew he wouldn’t respond.

The room’s dim light cast a faint green glow on his slick, colorful body. It was a sight I’d seen countless times, but now it felt different—both fascinating and dangerous.

I sighed, laying back on my bed, my mind racing. Tomorrow, my life at the Kanto Academy would begin. But now, it wasn’t just about classes or hobbies like cultivating berries. The shadow of poison and a hidden past loomed over everything.

“Welcome to the real world, Aspen Meloc,” I muttered bitterly, closing my eyes.