“This is utterly ridiculous! They’re Rattata, for fucks sake!” The voices around the table were incredulous at best and incensed at worst. “You can’t just expect us to believe that the little bastards won’t just take what they want just because your grandkid beat one of them up!”
“Don’t see you comin’ up with any better ideas! The Rattata haven’t come anywhere near the silos since!”
“They’re just biding their time, waiting for us to let our guard down!”
Dean pressed his thumb and forefinger onto the bridge of his nose. Their fears weren’t unfounded, but he couldn’t help but feel the frustration overtake him. Rattata were communal creatures and knew that their safety largely depended on numbers. As individuals, they were easy pickings for the carnivorous denizens of the forest. No Rattata would be willing to suffer the consequences of being ostracized by order of the matriarch. Being cast out of the nest was a death sentence.
It really was a stroke of luck that the current matriarch was indeed a former scout, and better luck still that the Raticate that Sammy fought was aligned with their goals. With these two Raticate enforcing any treaty, Dean was more than assured that any dissent in the nest would be quashed immediately and harshly. They weren’t stupid. Both sides only stood to benefit from any arrangement.
In return for keeping the fields clear of other pests, the Rattata would be allowed a portion of the harvest stores during the winter when food was harder to come by. The most amiable amongst the population would live around the schoolhouse for the children to study. Dean had chatted with the Southeastern Section Head of the Youngsters of Kanto this morning about setting up a local troop. The prospect of potentially willing and readily available partner Pokemon got their interest immediately. A representative would be visiting soon to train Paul on the details of being a Troop Master. Dean had been surprised at first when he volunteered, the younger man seemed almost too earnest. Dean supposed that Paul just wanted to be able to keep a close eye on the splinter nest and its leader. He couldn’t blame him for that; it was the same Raticate that not more than a day ago had been snapping at Crescent’s throat.
There was more to the treaty, of course, but those highlights were enough to win Roger Oak over. It was only a matter of time before the town became less dependent on farming and more on the sea trade routes. With trade came money, and with money came people from the cities looking to strike it rich by getting in on a newly developing hub at the ground floor. Roger suggested that if Pallet Town were to have any hopes of avoiding the problems associated with rapid expansion they needed to establish a partnership with the local fauna. Otherwise in a few years the docks and streets would be rife with pestilence as the Rattata made their homes in the accumulating trash. Then their problems would be far bigger than just stolen wheat and barley. Far better was it to be able to have the Rattata be willingly inoculated against the worst diseases and have a hand in keeping things clean. Dean had to applaud such forward thinking.
Now, if only the people of Pallet Town could be convinced to see the same vision. Based on the several overlapping arguments, Dean could tell they would be there for a while. He leaned over to whisper in the old man’s ear. “They’re going to be at this for days at this rate and I’m on a deadline. Is there nothing we can do to help speed things up?” Dean got a chuckle in response.
“Hold your Rapidash there, Dean. Remember what I told you? This is a mighty big change to spring on these folks, and until they see the benefits for themselves their opinions ain’t gonna change. Despite your connections to my family, you’re still an outsider. Let them tire themselves out arguing amongst themselves and I’ll drop the news about the Youngsters. Lotta of the families here have been clamoring for that for a while now, and that’ll be the tipping point for enough of them to at least give it a try.”
“How long do you think that’ll take?”
Roger sat back and sipped at his coffee. “Eh, probably another fifteen minutes or so. Get comfy.”
Dean frowned as he leaned heavily on his elbows on the table. Hopefully Gram was having better luck with his observations than he was at the negotiating table.
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It was illogical, Gram decided, how the young humans interacted with each other. They would fight and bicker over nonsensical things such as who would be the first to drink from the fountain in the schoolyard. Did they not understand that there was enough water for all? None of them seemed overly dehydrated, thus it should not matter which of them drank first. Yet they would push each other over to be the first to partake of what was to them an essentially infinite resource. Illogical.
Of course, Gram’s survey of the children had a reason. All of his actions had a reason behind them. He needed to gather a baseline by which to compare the Himada boy. Was he an outlier amongst his peers? Did he have something the others lacked? Or was it endemic to the local population? So far, Gram was leaning towards the hypothesis that Sammy was an outlier. It was frustrating to have such a limited sample size; it was altogether too restrictive to reach an honest conclusion. Of the children in the “Pallet School cohort”, only two had regular interactions with a Pokemon. One of which was Sammy. The other? It was as if the child was unaware of their existence despite their proximity.
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How could she not? Their insipid coils left a “wrongness” behind them. Tunneling their disgusting ether through the planes of existence. Filthy eyes that bore little but malice as they laughed and laughed, preying upon the children’s essence. If they were not so numerous and clearly content with merely sipping at the edges of the children’s psyches, Gram would have bore down upon them and torn their malfeasance asunder. Disgusting things, ghosts. Gram had evolved past the majority of his base emotions and hardened his will to be more effective as his Lady’s partner, but those damned creatures still evoked a passion that he doubted he would ever be rid of. He forced himself to stop narrowing his eyes towards the creatures flocking about the girl. How foolish he was being! He had entirely lost his composure and failed to focus upon his mission. Bah. He had seen enough.
Gram felt along the edges of the dimensions, pulling the vision of the Oak house towards him. As he gave one final parting sneer to the ghosts, Gram simply stepped over the threshold of folded space. The sun-warmed steps of the home radiated under his feet, but he cast no shadow upon them. Pushing himself upwards, Gram surveyed the area until he spotted the boy reapplying whitewash to the trees. He was chatting idly away as he worked, or perhaps singing along to the radio. The Nidoran by his side was relaxed as indicated by its rather still ears. Gram approached at an angle that would disperse his scent downwind. He wanted to see how the two would interact without another present. As he drew nearer, the boy’s voice could be heard.
“...I really don’t get why I couldn’t just go back to school. No one’s harvesting right now since they’re all in with Grandpa, and the Rattata won’t be coming so it’s not like I need to keep watch on stuff. Besides, I know that Paul was just giving me busy work when he told me to whitewash the orchard. Half this stuff will be gone by mid-winter and I’ll be doing it all over again anyway.” The boy dipped his bush into the can of lime paint before slapping it onto the Cheri trunk. “I mean, I’m glad that I won’t get mobbed by Aggie, but this means she’ll just come here to bother me instead.”
Crescent gave a noncommittal grunt. “Surely they are keeping you out of sight of the masses for good reason.”
“We were just out there fighting for our lives yesterday, you’d think they’d let us just stay in bed today.”
“I told you that I’m fine.”
“Thanks to that potion stuff Mister Dean gave you.”
“Truly a marvel. But even without, such wounds would have healed with rest. It merely sped up the process.”
The boy’s voice grew pensive. “Do…do you think that she went easy on us?”
“No. She aimed to kill.”
“I’m glad she stopped when she did.”
“I would have protected you until my final breath.”
“Why are you protective of me?”
An ear flicked upwards in Gram’s direction. Surely a Nidoran’s hearing was not quite so acute as to pinpoint his location nearly fifteen meters up? Gram held his posture still and redoubled his focus upon his shields of light. The ear moved to listen to another part of the farm. Gram continued his invisibility focus.
“I protect you because you are my king.”
Sammy nearly dropped his brush. “I hardly think I’m worth that much.”
Crescent sprang to his feet and launched himself at the boy’s ankles. “Cease your self abuse! I will distract such thoughts from you!” The can of whitewash upended as the two tumbled together in the dirt, becoming a tangled mess of dirt and limbs.
Gram teleported to the borrowed guest room and hovered a pen over Dean’s notebook.
There appears to be evidence of communication between observation subject “A” (Samuel Himada) and “B” (partner Pokemon Crescent the Nidoran). Comparisons between subject and others in his cohort suggest that subject “A” is an outlier amongst his peers, but lack of primary variable (Pokemon interaction) presents inconclusive data to define z-score. Recommendation is to have either subject pose specific queries to one another and/or have subject “A” repeat a phrase that is spoken by subject “B”.
As much as Gram had been initially annoyed by Master Dean’s request to join him on one of his foolhardy adventures, this latest venture was considerably more stimulating than expected. It was, if he dare say, interesting.