~~~ Chapter 20 - Protective ~~~

After years of training, battling and building relationships with their partners, pokemon impress themselves on their trainers, and vice-versa. Trainers take styles that mirror the color schemes of their prized pokemon. The reason for this is obvious to the onlooker: humans have proclivities for certain behaviors and preferences, which they may choose to cater their team around. Or, the trainers may choose a pokemon and later exhibit traits similar to their pokemon. Additionally, most trainers keep their first pokemon through their entire career, long after they decide that battles will be an exercise and hobby. In this series, we ask, “What areas of human traits are influenced by their pokemon?” and explore the available research examining these effects, across three categories: Physical, Mental and Temperamental.

The first in this series of metastudies, we will be performing a shallow overview of a portion of freely-available studies and their data, examining the physical category. The full series will cover known research from the last hundred years on pokemon, trainers, and the effects of pokemon on their trainers and vice-versa.

We cover thirty-two papers from the Scientific Unovan’s public catalogue, dated within the last two years and covering 1,328 trainers from Hoenn, Unova, and Kanto regions: five region champions or equivalent, thirteen different Elite Four members or equivalent, sixteen gym leaders or equivalent, seven-hundred rangers or equivalents, and a remainder comprised of hobbyists or retired trainers.

Seventy-percent of trainers surveyed held at least three gym badges or equivalent. For this overview, we specifically excluded studies which are not available for free. We catalogued trainers and pokemon based on a pair of popular categorizations. Later papers will discuss the newer methods. All comparisons of trainers are versus non-trainers, hereafter referred to as “baseline” or “baseline humans.” All data has been averaged.

Trainers with primary-water-type teams do not swim notably faster than baseline swimmers, but do exhibit 20% more lung capacity across all breathing metrics and wade 80% longer. They do not shiver in water at 19 C, versus 22 C being the median temperature at which people shiver at baseline. Additionally, they consume 7% more water on average throughout their day. Similar to baseline, they do not process ocean water. Further data on saltwater tolerance was limited and sample sizes too small.

Similarly striking comparisons are discussed: Ghost, Psychic and Dark trainers are more tolerant to Distortion. Ice trainers withstand significantly lower temperatures in both water and air. Electric trainers exhibit up to 17% faster reaction times.

Trainers who take so-called “balanced” teams exhibit some traits suggestive of their starter, but the effects are significantly reduced. Children of trainers of pokemon may exhibit some of these traits. Data on the heritability of these effects is limited for this paper, if slightly indicative that these abilities are not all latent.

Something is clearly happening here. By what mechanisms are these effects occurring? Is it exposure to your pokemon? Or being forced to interact more closely to elements that cause the body to adapt? Some data was excluded, such as those evaluating mental capabilities and temperaments. We leave those to be evaluated in a future paper.

Lastly, we propose some theories, proposing methods for testing each, and end with that familiar call: “further study is required.”

~~~

What was I supposed to do?

Get in the pokeball? Make a mad dash for it? Not like I could if I tried. I wasn’t going to give up on Lanky yet, either. But yeah, no running out of this place. That conditioner really destroyed my grip on tile, even ones made for pokemon. I’d just wind up sliding around. And since that grip hadn’t recovered, if Lanky wanted to go into another building it wasn’t like I could waltz around on my own without looking like a complete klutz.

A pair of people walked into the pokecenter lobby together, glancing at me, snickering at the backpack as Lanky clicked some last straps across my chest. A patrat sat in one’s shirt pocket, watching us. I held in a gurgling, grumbling moan that was coming from the lungs in my guts. It was my air sacs instead of my stomachs, at least. Lanky finished with the pair of straps now crossing. I couldn’t just compress my thorax, wiggle my arms, and get it off—my abdomen was too large and I wasn’t about to try to compress my head.

The crowds outside had really picked up. Lanky held my arm as I slipped to the door. The pokecenter tile from train town several weeks prior hadn’t been this bad. Pushed towards the glass doors we made our way out. Relieved to be back on the concrete, the sun had risen by quite a bit. From the building’s shadows, we caught the reflection of the sun as it bounced between the windows of the skyscrapers on either side of the street. It was probably a trick of the angles; the sun seemed to reach well over the eastern horizon and into the morning sky, giving me a buzz from the extra energy as chlorophyll began to recharge.

The taste of grilling meat wafted through the air. A food stand had opened. Instinct was not incensed, the thought of eating meat somewhat repulsive. Smells of coffees and chocolates and donuts, birds roosting on the tops of signs, waiting for bread to be bought and dropped. Rings of voices, phones and bells on bikes. Lanky tugged. A balding man tossed a half-bagel in the air. Birds dove in.

I took a breath and shuffled a few steps away from the door.

A man dressed in a black shirt held a tv camera on their shoulders, turning to point it at us, before rotating back. A man in red and green stood in front, black and grey stick in hand, looking into the camera. A lady rolled up to the highrise across the street on their bike.

The bagel was snatched; didn’t hit the height of its arc. Lanky tugged again, I shuffled a couple steps more. The biker stepped off and the bike collapsed into an impossibly tight cylindrical shape. Picking it up, she went inside the tall building. A kid tried to grab my leaf as they passed by while holding a bottle to their mouth with the other hand, pushed in a stroller threading through the morning crowd.

I rubbed my blades together. A car slowly inched down the street, trying to get through the pedestrians, most of whom ignored its presence. A pack of purple balloo—Lanky picked me up, clearly having enough, carrying me out of the dense packs of humans. It was hard to hear him through the unending stimuli. Most people seemed to ignore our presence now, though one or two people pulled out their phones and took a picture.

With Lanky’s smell so close, I breathed even again. It’s easy to get lost in the world when you’re barely a meter tall. We went straight south. Not running, but he was definitely speed-walking. The crowd thinned and buildings began to decrease in height. Finally outside of the endless vibrations, I loosened the muscles on my arms. Salt grew thick in the air and the buildings shifted, flashes of green and caws of seabirds floating about.

Lanky set me down, allowing me to stand on my own once we’d left the mess, talking in a smooth voice and rubbing me on the head. I looked out to the southern bay, he pulled out his phone. We were about twenty feet higher up from the sea, nearing a final downward slope which would take us to a marina of boats and docks, which was blocked by a tall metal fence, painted black.

While we rested, I thought of the red, the taste, and the vision of leaves and fur. It had been quite the trip. What had the doctor said? “It’d make me higher than the sky?” Or was I just high as the sky and my subconscious inserting things? I already tried to guess their intent. What was some auditory hallucination along the way?

Seafarers milled around some boats and small ships floating about. Far to the east, a large cargo ship left their port, colored in splotches of grays and red. Like—like the nurse’s fur. There—there was no way to tell if those memories were real, but I did have a test. Zoroark illusions. They go away with the first damaging hit. Well, at least they did in the games. I’d give that nurse a good poke and see if their illusion broke. If they did, then… Well, how do they speak? And how had they become a freaking nurse? Had they killed someone and taken over their life? Arceus, it’s Unova. How would I know if every human was real!?! Can ditto learn how to talk if they turn into a human? How many pokemon like Cebi are there?

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A pair of pink and blue balloons floated about like lost baubles in the water, off to the side of a large blotchy sailing boat, their sails shrinking as what I presume they were rolling up after returning. Lanky spotted his target, and we went down. Sprinklers were spraying a strip of grass, the excess mist making a small stream running down a small concrete slope. The smell of fish was getting thick in the air.

I slid down the concrete slope, Lanky keeping me from going too fast with his hold on the rope. We had been up decently high, looking down on the boats and the docks of the small marina. Luckily, nothing seemed like it had a horn that could boom like a big cargo ship. Just sailing and fishing and leisure boats. Hints of yellow beaches further to the west glinted.

One last, short set of concrete stairs greeted us as we approached the black metal fence of the marina. The door had a little keypad and a twist-knob on it. Lanky stepped down, pulling out his pokedex again, as I watched some specks of birds float in circles far above the boats.

A short line of water shot into the air, and the gulls startled and warbled, one falling out of the air. I feel the deep bark of a dog howl like it had been laughing. The place definitely smelled of fish and birdshit. I couldn’t see but I could only guess that the water dog had hit its prey and had consumed it, judging by a short last squawk.

Lanky put away his phone, waving for me to come down as he began to press on the keys. The water of the marina that I couldn’t see was mostly blurred by large ships waving in the calm water. The rest was a dark blue, and the warming air from the city met with the flow from the ocean asserting a salty chill. We were about a hundred yards away from the docks now, and despite my estimation of the blurs of boats, well, they were a lot larger than I’d first thought and gathered.

My stomach quivered a bit, luckily nothing I’d eaten came back up. Birds had returned to their lazy circles.

Lanky fiddled with the panel, pressing buttons that clicked. Humans were moving about by the boat on the end where that large blue blob I assumed was the dog cast its shadow on the low-in-water boat. Moving stuff about, gray and blue boxes going off and on the blindingly white ship. Lanky was talking, well, grumbling really, taking too long as he fiddled with the pad. Tired of waiting, I walked up next to Lanky, reached up, and inserted my no-longer sore forelimb into the latching mechanism. The kid continued to focus on the pad, glancing back down at his phone, muttering. I slid the limb in and got a click. The metal door popped open. I clicked, relaxing my pose. Lanky just stared at me.

New Leavanny-exclusive HM: Lockpick.

Okay, I’m just abusing bad latch design, but still! Lanky looked at me and then back at the pad. I marched in.

Bitch, I’m a bug.

And was stopped when I was forcibly reminded that I was on a leash which had tugged tight.

Leah the Leavanny on a Leash.

It was probably a bad idea, but the lack of fear instincts of anything that wasn’t in the water told me I was okay; I looked around, angling to get a better view of the dog that shot the bird.

Could I hit a bird with one of my razor leaves?

Lanky finally stepped in and followed. We’d gone to this marina on purpose, I wasn’t going to let something stupid like a latch stop us. Crossing a last line of dirt, and back onto pavement, we were in. Fishermen milled about, a man was wrestling scuba tanks onto a boat, and most pokemon were not on their leashes. A wartortle sat in the sun, content to rest at the front crest of the diver’s blue boat.

We walked straight down to the docks, leaving land behind. My grip on the waxed wood wasn’t great, and the occasional puddle of water didn’t improve things either. The thought of falling, setting me on edge, I held close to the kid.

A large pelican-like pokemon dove in front of us, taking a big scoop of seawater. We stepped past the wartortle and the captain-diver securing their tanks. Lanky had pulled out his pokedex, scanning the turtle. How would anyone know if a pokemon was registered? The squirtle line seemed quite high-value compared to a bug like me. Regardless, a quick pause, we were ignored and continued through to the end.

Lanky put away the pokedex, deciding this was apparently the right marina for our current goal. We continued our trek, further out onto the dock, the slight shift of the waves becoming more apparent. The dock had been tapering lower, meeting the ocean water. I stole a glance over the edge, the dark water flashed with silvery blue, hinting at things deep below. I returned to Lanky’s leg, slightly slipping.

I was glad to be attached, I decided as I recovered.

Lanky did not notice my lack of grip, himself slightly wobbling with the docks, not being used to uncertain ground. Luckily for him, he had shoes keeping him relatively steady. The shadow of blue greeted us, and from behind it, I recognized our goal. She was holding a bucket, giving a little greeting of a shout, waving at Lanky and I with her free hand as we approached.

The dog moved to block our path. Protective. The woman stepped forward, putting her hands on the giant dog’s side, speaking in soothing tones. She was wearing jeans, sneakers and a jacket. Had light golden brown hair. I’d seen her before in a picture. Professor Smile’s daughter. Professor Juniper. The air assaulted with the smells of oils and fish, slightest hints of strawberry and cherry berries. Behind the big blue dog that had turned its horned head to face us, the tip of a single, large pink bubble was barely poking out, a jellicent floating by the side, partially submerged in the water and resting in the dock’s shadow.

The smell of a fishy curiosity was entering my antennae when a small splash of saltwater hit Lanky and I.

“Wwwrrroom.” the monster of a pokemon strode closer to us, stepping between us and the boat once more, further constricting our path, leaving Juniper in back. That white crest on its head, absolutely nasty horn sticking out. Like Juniper, I knew the name of this kind of pokemon. I shivered at the unexpected blast of cold. It raised its head high, pulling its body further off the ground with its trunks of legs.

I stepped behind Lanky, who just stopped and waved back, as she moved back in front of the dog. This damn samurott had to be thrice my height. It stood, letting out another deep warble. Lanky looked down at me, patting me on the head as I rubbed my blades together.

Juniper was talking again. A much softer tone than her father’s gruff and stoic vibrations. She approached again. Speaking to her pokemon, samurott stood down. It relaxed its four limbs and bent low in submissive gesture. Once more, she wrapped an arm around its neck, giving it a kiss, before turning to more closely observe Lanky and I.

The conversation was quick, samurott was saddled with boxes and bags, Lanky helping her and her partner secure their loads. I remembered Professor Juniper from the second game, but hadn’t considered she’d just be so… casual. She wasn’t constantly smiling like her father, and her tone wasn’t so stuck up; her body language and that slight hint of berry says "friend."

Lanky had let go of the leash, having me stay by samurott. Trying to relax, I inspected the massive water dog as it sat relatively still and sniffed me. For how large he was, his head was quite small. The wicked horn was much sharper than I’d imagined as a human teen, its teeth were built for stabbing and grappling. Whatever it bit, was probably never let go. He sniffed the air again, then me, no doubt picking up the trace smell of cherries.

I took a breath and shuffled back a step as he huffed a quick puff at me.

He wasn’t going to eat me, at least, which was nice. He looked down. Where the rope lay. He made to grab the leash with his mouth. I tried to kick the rope and pull it back to me. Instead I slipped and fell back, tipping to the side of the dock. Given a glimpse of the water, I panicked and tried to set my leg down close in. I couldn’t find a steady spot and plunged over the edge.

My legs and abdomen splashed into the water before stopping. Caught by samurott, who grabbed the end of the leash and lifted me back to shore. Shivering and wet from the icy cold ocean water, I was grateful as the dog set me down on the dock, barking with a soft “wrop!” sound.

Juniper tossed the dog a treat, which it caught out of the air, enjoying its reward for saving me from disaster.

A few minutes later, I was partially dry again, and samurott was completely loaded up. Ready to go, Juniper pulled out a rope of her own, attaching it to the large collar at the base of the dog’s neck. It was nice knowing I wasn’t the only one. Fortunately for him; it seemed more a formality than something that could actually hold him back. That damn animal could probably tow a car, those legs were as thick as medium-sized tree trunks.

Samurott, carrying their bags and boxes like a pack mule, we went…to…the gym. Now I know the source of the cherry conditioner.

It wasn’t a smell I’d caught on Alder, at least.