~~~ Chapter 16 - aaneenee ~~~

Thanks for listening to today’s show folks. As we close up, those of us here at the FREE-Quency radio show received a number of calls about the claims of pokecenters modifying your pokemon. We can’t talk to you about it right now, but tomorrow’s episode will have the full scoop! Tune in to yet another explosive expository episode! We wouldn’t want you to miss these revelatory stories. Next up, Doctor Larkin talks Mega Stones! Magical Cure for PokeRus, or poison? What of Cherry Conditioners? Better for your Bugs than you think! Stay tuned during this ad break and we’ll get the deets from the doctor on his two pm show, only available here on FREEMON RADIO. doctorlarkinisnotadoctorandisnotgivingmedicaladvice.

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~~~

Out and about again, we walked. Lanky and I stuck mostly to silence, ruminating to ourselves. Not like I was the best human conversationalist. He'd put his pokedex and phone away, his cheeks red as the runway down his forehead. He'd held the pokedex like I used to hold my phone, staring into its lit screen as he walked. He was new to this town and hadn't quite learned where the ambush poles were. It had come out of nowhere, planting a red line down Lanky’s forehead.

Objectively, mathematically funny. My face in its permanent grin, I held my mouth shut as I remained silent, the kid turning their head around for a moment, checking their surroundings.

We returned to what I assumed was the professor’s house. A quaint house, painted a soft blue, with a driveway and garage which would fit one American car and a couple motorcycles, if I had to guess. Which was an odd thing to consider—the pokemon world didn't have that many cars, even if dramatically larger than the games.

The professor clearly enjoyed the seclusion. The forest towered around the property, maybe a hundred yards away before the dense treeline. I flicked my blade arm, bouncing droplets off into the dark green lawn. Occasional chirps and rustles indicated that wild pokemon were about. We approached the front door.

Lanky shook himself off, wiping his shoes on the entrance mat before going in through the front door. Lanky had looked at me—who was still dripping wet— then at my pokeball. Then back to me, as if to say, "Get in the pokeball, or stay outside." I raised my arms and clicked. "No thanks," or "Ee aaneenee," which seemed to work for him. The extra light on my leaves was most welcome.

As he stepped inside, I turned my attention to the lone tree in the front yard. With nice big, thick leaves, it was taller than the ones in back. I walked up to it. It towered over me, but the lowest branch was only a couple arm-lengths higher than me. I bent my legs, jumped, hooking both my leaf-arms around the first branch, swinging my leg up and around, using the hardened cuff-links to dig into the bark and hold myself in place.

"Mmrrrrk." I turned to look up. Staring down from above was a dark blue bird, about my height. It had a large, jagged beak and the feathers on its head formed a hat. The murkrow was nesting up high. Watching me from its nest. Warning me of its presence.

"I just want leaves!" I yammered, "E aaa Nee EEaaaa." They didn’t understand what I was saying. I didn’t need them to. They just needed to understand my intent. They didn’t move. I moved to the end of the branch. Grabbed the leaves I wanted. Hopped down to the professor's lawn. By the time Lanky returned from inside the house, I’d finished covering them with silk, carving them up into razors. I stuffed them— still hardening —into my cufflinks.

We walked up the road, headed to the north. Lanky looking for I didn’t know what. The trees were massive. They had grown thick and tall—much taller than trees I was used to as a human. We stopped when we reached an area in the trees with a decent clearing. There were a few muskrat-like rodents with angry red-and-yellow eyes patrats running around, playing. When we walked in, they ran off, a watchog chirping at them.

Had I killed that volcarona?

Old episodes of pokemon, Ash telling Pikachu, "You can do it, we’re not out of the fight!" despite facing down Paul's Darkrai/Lugia/Latios.

The heat of Alder’s volcarona, the exhilaration. The overcommitment was poison in my guts, clenching at the thought. Threatening to eject whatever was left in my abdominal stomachs. But the beginning? The middle? I could see why a pidove might face a geodude (or any other opponent quadruple their size, really). Chittering, I could taste my own, earthy fears.

If the volcarona had thrown wave after wave of fire at me, and been even slightly keen on dodging and staying out of range, I would have been burned alive without a chance, right from the start, all the way to the end. Despite the damage I had been taking, this Dream-Lanky never called me back with a pokeball.

Had he been trying to? Had he been yelling, "It’s done, it’s over, we’ve won"?

If I needed to know any words, "stop" or "it’s over" or "it’s done" were top priorities. I kept my eyes out for Cebi. If I saw her again, she had the answers I needed. The differences from either the games or the anime, I needed to know. How often did pokemon fight to the death? Even in the wild? I’ve seen eagles pick up emolga and disappear, I’d felt that primal fear of birds flying overhead. Something was under there.

A bit off the main trail, a field, a small, wet picnic table, patrats scurried, their party interrupted by us. Watchogs stepped back, keeping eyes on us. Lanky sat down, calling me forward. Had I ever mentioned how much better human food was than the food in Anville's forest? With the help of the pokedex and some of the professor's extremely, unfairly tasty berries, we worked out the words to learn.

I already remembered "Up" and "Down" from the short stint with the nurse with the jirachi tattoo, though after that experience at the lab, I couldn’t tell if it was actually "Sit" or "Stand."

Do other pokemon have this confusion?

Lanky was showing me the Razor Leaf video again, pointing at a tree. This time, I obliged, pulling one out and flinging it deep into the bark. He pulled out a berry. Working as a team with a person meant I had a need to learn these words. The energy to care about the greater human languages? Not there. Why should I?

This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

If there’s confusion in their words, then that’s their problem, not mine.

So long as I was out of the pokeball, our partnership would work. Yep, it’s just me, Leah the Leavanny, a totally-normal never-been-human pokemon!

Lanky said a word, holding a pokeball. "Return!" is how I imagined the intent. He clicked the button. I lost all senses again. A flash and I was back out. "EEEEEEEEssss," I hissed at him, jumping back. The watchogs that had turned away stood back up, turning to us at my vocalizations and objections at Lanky. I held no compunctions against setting boundaries. The kid looked down, paused a second.

You’re going to need to figure something else out, kid. I don’t want you using a pokeball unless absolutely required.

What I was doing was clearly working—I had been out for hours versus the swadly, who was still in their pokeball.

Lanky held up the ball again, and I hissed. But instead of pointing it at me this time, he motioned to the ground. Return? Well, I mean, sure, I’ll walk back.

Don’t lose me in a box on Bill's PC, because if you do, I’m literally going to kill you if I ever get out.

He pulled out his pokedex, then pulled back a video, showing a trainer using the same word, a flash of light, and their pokemon was gone. Yeah, it was "Return!" or "That’s enough!" something like that. That doesn’t mean I’m going to be happy about it.

The next one we worked on together, was Slash, at least that’s what I thought. The trainer in the video said the word, their leavanny then went to town on a fucking log, chopping it up. Lanky repeated the word, pointing at the tree I’d embedded with a leaf a moment ago. I ran at it, chopping it a couple times, tearing out some good chunks, scaring a pidove out of its nest and onto the little forest floor. It chirped angrily at me, jumping, and pecking harmlessly onto my leaf blades. One swipe and the bird would be gone. Lanky called for me to return, and when I chose to walk, it pecked at me.

"Slash," Lanky said. It didn’t deserve to die because it was stupid, but with it practically hanging off my abdomen, I couldn’t just ignore it. It received a complimentary ride on Leah the leavanny’s personalized airtime express, launching it back to its tree, knocking it about a bit. The bird rolled back to the ground.

Dirt’s included as part of the package, hon.

Lanky looked at me.

"Neeeaaaeee," I moaned. What? I’m not going to kill it just because it chose a bad fight.

The bird came to, looked at us as its head wobbled, then ran off, squawking and flapping its wings. Content to let it be, we returned to practice and got lost in the sauce. By the end, "Return", "Razor Leaf", "Bite", "Slash", and "String Shot" had been added to my repertoire. Not simply as moves, but as spoken words.

Getting a feel for what I think was my name in there as well. Lanky wanted to keep going but my brain was tired, and my instincts agreed that it was enough for the day. I was getting bugged. Vocalizing by tapping my hard mouth together, coupled with clicks of my tongue, I let out a series of frustrated sounds.

I’m learning some words, so we can team up, kid, but when I get bored, it’s over.

When the bag of berries were put into his pack, I clicked in satisfaction. Yeah, I know, I remembered what I said about not being a pet. It was a partnership, and he was learning that. It beat the endless, constant foraging for half- and over-ripe soft fruits and vegetables. Which didn't taste nearly as good to boot.

Lanky pulled my pokeball off his belt, twisted it around, clicked it larger, holding it, looking at me as I stared at it, and then decided. He clicked the button, and it went smaller, putting it away, back on his belt. One day, he’d learn better. For now, I was glad.

Instead, he pulled from the bag a tennis ball as we took our break in the late afternoon, setting sun. He tossed the ball up in the air as I went into the tree I had chopped up earlier to relax.

And found myself face to face with a bird.

It had a pink domino-mask style covering on its face, one band tethering out from each side, behind, a nest with a pidove behind it. An unfezant. It stood above me, puffing out its feathers, opening its wings like the eagle chick that attacked me in train town. The pidove squawked. I didn’t have my helmet clasped. I dropped to the ground as it cawed at me, diving from the tree, pushing me into the ground.

Lanky shouted. I pulled my antennae back. I menaced the attacking unfezant with my leaf-blade. It continued its threatening march toward me, following up its surprise attack. It pecked, pulling at the leaves behind my head. I was pulled back, losing my balance, but the leaves didn't break. The unfezant flapped its wings, struggling with me in tow.

I was pulled, slightly, barely, off the ground. Barely off the ground but with decent speed, it threw me into a tree. I rolled onto the ground, and it squawked over its victory, landing, putting a claw on my thorax, pecking at my face.

"Slash!" Lanky yelled.

Just fight it!

The bird went for another peck, aiming for my antenna. When it got close, I slammed its beak with my blade, unfezant spinning and flapping its wings in surprise.

Don’t kill it, I thought to myself.

I ran, slashing it again before it could recover, shearing off some feathers. Using the broad of my blades, I beat its head into the ground, disorienting the bird. It was a bit taller than me and had more mass. The pressure built in my mouth, and sprayed it with silk, covering the bird as it struggled against the newfound rope it was covered with. "Return!" Lanky shouted, and we ran back home before the angry unfezant decided it wanted more.

We returned to the professor’s house as night was falling. Lanky talked to the professor some more, let Swadly out of the ball, and set us outside for the night. I couldn’t complain about that. The following days were more of the same, and we settled into a bit of a routine. We never went to that part of the route again, so we didn’t have to tussle with an unruly unfezant again. A few times, people with pokeballs stopped by. Each time, Lanky and the trainers had a short conversation, but I was grateful we never had to fight.

The days turned into about a week or so, and I learned a few more words. Lanky tried to teach me Solar Beam once. Didn’t work. Looking at a screen and hearing the word doesn’t grant the ability to do anything, that process would probably be more involved.

Solar Beam was such a strong move and clearly needed quite a lot more practice if I wanted to learn it. Didn’t help that the videos were all of the bulbasaur line and other plant-type pokemon that knew it, but no Leavanny. I didn’t even know where it would come out? My arms? My mouth? My eyes? How would I charge the energy for it?

While the videos worked for me, they didn’t work for Swadly. Watching me do the moves repeatedly, however, he learned some of his own quite well. Since we were reunited, he’d been more energetic and anxious. Seeing me roll around and practice at night, he wanted in on the grind.

That anxiety and desire for a fight from him was strong. He even tried to tussle with me a few nights in the backyard. Each time, he lost. But he was getting bigger. From not being as tall as my knees, to where my abdomen met the midpoint of my legs. I had to patch the little guy's leaf-cloak multiple times.

Swadly-bug was growing fast, and our little team of two was soon to have another Leavanny in the mix.