My footsteps are a wafting echo that engulfs the school and yet brings nothing more with it than yawning emptiness, with no one waiting for me. Wherever the other trainers are, they haven’t settled in the building. So I have no choice but to sneak out of the building with Zorua – the other side opposite the girl I beat before, straight into a well-tended school garden.

The grass in the immediate vicinity rustles and although I don’t want to get hung up on it, it’s hard to argue it’s not following me somehow. No matter where I walk, the grass rustles as if an invisible Abra is watching me. The truth, however, is that it’s probably just a few little Pokémon keeping up with the world. In Zorua’s state, everything just seems a lot more dangerous.

Without further ado, my gaze falls back to Ying. Her eyes are glued to her surroundings and yet her small body doesn’t move any further away from me than necessary. Looking at her like that makes you think she’s fine. Almost as if nothing had happened. But I know better and no matter how much I want to get away from here, another fight is almost insane.

As Zorua’s gaze shoots up at me, she seems to see through my thought. Her proportionally tiny red paws tap the ground. She extends her claws, retracts them again, and fluffs the puff on her head a little. Her anxious nature fades for a moment and all she communicates to me in those seconds is her desire for freedom. The dream of seeing the world together, even if it sometimes seems hopeless.

“You really want to go through with this, huh?” Raising a brow, I give her a sly smile. It’s all I have left, and it’s enough to elicit a nod from Ying.

Only then does her nose stretch in another direction and as my gaze follows her movement, it is the lanky body of a young child that I catch. The boy has crouched in the grass and is extensively observing the green stems, which look pitifully bent under the stifling air.

I approach him in slow steps until I come to a halt unnoticed next to him and look at the same thing as him. There isn’t much more to see than the greenery of countless plants. A sight that brings peace and yet cannot hold me.

“Do you go to school here?”

Hastily, the boy jerks his head up and looks at me from under his curly fringe, out of large, dark eyes. The black hair shimmers under the piercing sun and although hardly a ray reaches the ground, he wears an old straw hat, the kind you sometimes find on grandmothers in the garden.

“Are you the girl we are supposed to compete against?” His eyes widen a little. “Hello.”

“Hi. And yes, I suppose I am.” With a smile, I put my hands on my hips. He’s young, but probably not to be underestimated. “Are you fighting me?”

Once more, his gaze slides back to the green of the stalks before he nods and picks himself up. He’s just up to my chest and probably not even old enough to go to a classic kids’ movie aged twelve and up, but the tightened shoulders and deep breaths make him look more grown-up than most others his age.

Without further ado, I take some distance. Ten wide steps because we have more space in this place. No constricting wall here forces us to get along in the smallest of spaces. Once again, Zorua takes up her position at my feet. We are ready. Another fight we have to put behind us to reach the goal.

The boy, however, throws his ball with an energetic “Go!” to unleash a Metapod from its shell. It is probably one of the most widespread Pokémon that you know, even if you have spent your existence in a cave. It’s a classic Grass-type Pokémon that rarely has much to offer. I don’t know everything about this thing, but I’ve heard many swear about it being about as much fun as a Magikarp.

Most find it wholly unsuitable for combat and that’s the advantage Ying and I have. Its wiggling body, bobbing back and forth all the time as if trying to calm itself, is the perfect toy for my Zorua. There’s no point in being more careful than necessary.

“Ying, scratch!” My hand hisses to the side as if to knock a ball away from me as Zorua leaps forward.

Her windy paws carry her to the Metapod in a flash, ready to slash her claws against the carapace. But before she can lunge out, the voice of the boy in the fight comes through.

“Harden!”

A brief gleam slides across the Pokémon’s shell before Ying’s claws slash, releasing a screech that does little more damage than a burst eardrum. Teeth clenched tight, I press my hands to my ears to muffle the yelp. The boy does the same, eyes squeezed tightly shut.

Ying, meanwhile, backs away. She takes the irritation in stride for a moment, letting her tail slide suspiciously from right to left before she catches herself and looks at me as if I know what to do.

If this little guy counters every one of my attacks with his harden, Ying will win eventually. It’s hard to imagine it really being that easy. Still, something other than attack is out of the question.

“Ying, scratch. Until you break through the shell!”

A snort escapes my Zorua before she turns her attention once more to the Metapod and immediately charges. Within the blink of an eye, she is hanging in the air above her opponent, ready to bring all four paws crashing down on the green crescent. The Metapod, meanwhile, bobs peacefully back and forth – its eyes half-closed. It senses no danger, and yet danger is all it is surrounded by.

Ying extends her claws. Her preparations are made. But my counterpart simply waits for each of our moments before deciding to counterattack. “Safry, tackle! Block the Zorua!”

“Pay attention, Ying!”

My exclamation comes just in time as Zorua smashes a paw at the Metapod, sending it bouncing backwards a little further. In return, it comes back with a punch, ready to ram its skull into her side. But Zorua’s flexibility pays off as she clutches her opponent’s head with her front paws and uses its momentum to swing her back legs back up.

The bobbing ten kilos hurl their momentum into nothingness as Ying pushes herself off it. She comes to rest only briefly on her paws as she does so, before leaping forward again and smashing her claws against the Metapod with force. It would almost be worth a little glee if it weren’t for the sheen of its green skin, which conveys that it has used harden once more. Metapod seems to know that the more it strengthens its fibres, the less it will be damaged.

But Zorua doesn’t give up. Once again, she strikes with her claws, jumps off, lands behind her opponent, and rams her hind paws into the Pokémon’s backside. Metapod, though, hardly moves at all. It merely rocks forward heavily before coming back with momentum and head-butting Ying, sending her stumbling back.

Her legs buckle, her body sways. Ears laid back, the puff on her head seems to be the only thing in sight. Metapod, in contrast, continues to teeter, unable to move from the spot. It’s our chance, but Zorua can barely stay on her feet. She is exhausted, battered, and although her body is robust, she can barely grasp an obvious target.

The next words hang like lead in my throat and yet I dare to let them pass over my dry tongue. “Ying ... you must hang on! Fight back! Pursuit!”

I would love to force her back into the Poké Ball. But I promised to trust her. Not by word, not by will, but I’ve made her feel like I believe in her. And she actually believes that together we can do anything. If we have to go down this way, then so be it. At least we’ll do it together.

Hands clenched into fists, I watch Ying stand wide-legged and struggle to comply with my request. Her swaying subsides and before I am sure she has regained her composure, she leaps onto the Metapod.

Her claws once again chase over a far too hard carapace and while her opponent again increases the bobbing, she waits for the second when it leans backwards. At that moment, Zorua bumps into the end of the Metapod – with all her might, as if she wants to give it a body slam – and makes it take off.

Reluctantly, the Pokémon somersaults and rolls towards its trainer until it gets stuck in the ground with the tips of its body. With its eyes fixed on the ground, it cannot move. It is incapable of fighting.

Briefly, I suck the air in sharply between my teeth as the boy bends to his Metapod and puts it out of its misery. The smile on his features is as innocent as expected. “Your Zorua is very smart. Defeating Metapod isn’t easy unless you’re a lot stronger or bigger to throw around and damage it inside, so it used another weak point.”

Because this damn Pokémon barely moves, it gave Ying a hard time. Maybe this is my fault. Maybe we’re getting tired and careless. A mistake that shouldn’t have happened, and yet it cornered us.

“I think I will go now,” the boy continues soundly. “I will tell Hala that I have lost. With a Metapod, that’s believable.”

He nods at me once more before rushing off, leaving me alone in the middle of the meadow. So I let myself fall. Straight onto the ground, between green stalks, near my Pokémon. Ying, meanwhile, comes shuffling in my direction and, just for a moment, she seizes the opportunity to lie down and rest her head on my lap.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

I don’t want to touch her. My fingers quiver and the pounding in my chest hurts my ribs. Her head injury could only get worse if I touch her awkwardly. She probably already has a concussion and needs an urgent break to recover. An end to all the fighting for the next two weeks so she can rest. At least if I don’t get my hands on a potion first.

The sigh on my lips weighs heavily as I place my hand carefully on Zorua’s back. The black fur nestles silky against my fingers. A little peace we share as the rustling of the meadow still lurks in the background. However, it cannot startle us. It can do nothing to chase us off the field in those seconds.

At least, that’s a faint belief as it pulls us into its arms and lets us go right after, as Zorua’s fur begins to bristle. She is still relaxed and resting on my lap, but the static is there and even before I can comprehend the circumstances, an eye is looking at me from the side – a tiny black dot in the centre.

My body barely moves. Only slowly do my feet slide under my body. We can’t have a fight that will only weaken Zorua. The last one against one trainer is still to come and we need to gather every bit of strength we can muster.

The magnets on the sides of the Pokémon slowly spin and while it hovers around us, I press my lips together tighter. Magnemite is not a match for us in this situation. I don’t even know what attacks are worth using against a Pokémon like this. Without the Pokédex, I’m at a loss.

Every move I make is kept rigidly in sight. The only chance we have is to run away, and although Ying hasn’t seen our enemy yet, she trusts my tense stance. She doesn’t move an inch, allowing me to hug her tighter in my arms and lift her slowly. If I wait for the right moment, we might get lucky.

But the rustling of the meadow won’t let us disappear quietly, and every noise makes the magnets on the Pokémon’s side spin faster. My only option is to jump up and start running.

I can hear the whirring of static in the background. A glance over my shoulder reveals that I have barely put five steps between us. Still, it has already gathered its electricity, and it is not afraid to attack. The static in our surroundings grows denser. I can feel the tingling on my skin and know Magnemite’s sights are on us. It will use an electric shock and I won’t be able to get away.

“Ying!” My breath hurries over my lips as I press my Pokémon’s body tighter against me. Her gaze lifts. “Give this Pokémon a taste of what you can do. Knock it down. And don’t look back.”

She merely nods, and I know that despite her shy mannerisms, she will always listen to my words. We have been together too long for anything else.

As the tingling on my skin becomes stronger, I take a deep breath. Then, with a fierce twist, I turn to face the wild Pokémon again. With all my strength, I swing Zorua around and let her go just in time before Magnemite’s attack releases.

Ying flies through the air as the tension drives into my body. Gritting my teeth, I let the electricity chase through my body. It stabs through my skin, burning deep into my muscles, making my fingers twitch as the rest crash stiffly to the floor. Heat burns my body from the inside out, leaving red marks on my hands and probably under the bandages. All I can see is the Spearow’s scratch wounds bursting open under the white mull, pressing blood into the fabric.

It is only a moment, a simple, insignificant breath. But my head thinks I feel minutes passing and the twitches in my body keep me half-curled on the floor. The air presses quiveringly from my nose, moisture clings to my upper lip and my skull throbs. Simultaneously, an inarticulate laugh escapes my parched throat.

If this is thunder shock, if electricity hurts so much, why do our Pokémon volunteer to go into battle? Why do we send them into arenas?

It’s a trivial thought that I can’t answer, and it makes my eyes water because presumably, hardly any trainers know how painful a Pokémon’s attacks can be.

The breath slips shakily into my lungs as I pull back my nose and bite my lower lip. The spasms in my muscles subside and when I lift my head a little to see how Zorua is doing, it is her wet nose that rests gently against my forehead. Then her tongue follows and when I think I can feel my fingers again, I slide my hand in her direction. The Magnemite has disappeared.

“Pretty pathetic, isn’t it?” My bones seem to quiver as I try to scramble into a sitting position. “You endure dozens of attacks because I can’t help you and I can’t even stand up to one myself. You probably would have taken that thunder shock with dignity.” I hang my head. “And yet I once heard that the attack isn’t supposed to be very strong. I don’t even want to know what would have happened if it had been more powerful.”

My eyes wander to the small red spots that are already fading under my skin. It’s not permanent damage and maybe that’s why it doesn’t rate as particularly strong. Harder attacks would probably have burnt my skin. Maybe there are even attacks so strong that you burst into flames.

Hastily, I shake my head. I just hope I never have to fall over such things. Because I think death is certain for me, should it be otherwise.

Zorua’s little nose still caresses me, and though my arms burn as if I’ve made acquaintance with a Magcargo, I enclose her in a hug, only to pick myself up again a moment later. “We can’t stay here forever, can we?”

Ying’s curt bark is all the confirmation I need.

In unhurried strides, we shift around the building back to the front, where my father and Hala have settled on a bench to talk to a boy who seems just about my age. His wild brown hair sticks out in all directions and the glasses on his nose make him look intelligent. Hands pressed to his sides, he laughs a few times before spotting Ying and me and waving. He is clearly of sunny nature.

Immediately after, the men rise and turn to me and it is my father’s eyes that grow unnaturally large.

“Domino! What happened to your arms?”

Legitimate question, but not one to which I can give an honest answer. Ultimately, what happened is just a sign to my father that Zorua and I are no good for out there. So I swallow the words and put on a smile.

“Nothing much,” I bring to my lips. “I slipped on the steps inside and had a hard landing.”

My father gasps for air while Hala claps his hands and tries to turn the mood in another direction with a short laugh. He probably realised after the first two words that I’m lying – even if I’m not being very obvious. Then again, a simple fall down the stairs shouldn’t reopen the scratches on my arm and make them bleed so badly.

“How about we move on to the last battle? After all, you and your Zorua have done splendidly up to this point.” He takes a few steps closer before pointing to the battlefield that adorns part of the front yard. The place where I should have been fighting all the battles. “You and Flamian can start your fight here.”

It’s not really an offer, but I take it anyway and nod to the old man before joining Ying on one side, watching as the boy takes a stance as well. The Poké Ball in his hands is our last hurdle.

“When you’re ready, start your battle.” Hala gives us the freedom to do everything else the way we want, and even if it’s not much, it’s more than I’m likely to get out there.

As Zorua gets ready for the ending battle wide-legged in front of me, Flamian sends his Pokémon off to fight. And what faces me all at once is an impossibly ugly slime creature, strongly reminiscent of a Grimer, but completely different in appearance with its green colour and yellow mouth. It must be a special form of the island – something my father reluctantly told me about after I read in an article that not every Pokémon has to look the same.

This also made me realise this Pokémon is appearing less because there are fewer industrial wastes to be eaten. I don’t know if that’s a curse or a blessing. In these seconds, it may not even matter. The only thing that matters is that we defeat this muddy mass and finally gain that bit of assurance that Ying and I have been seeking for an eternity.

“Ying, pursuit!” Waiting is something I cannot afford to do in Ying’s condition. What’s left is to go on the offensive and Zorua complies with the will as it instantly runs towards the Grimer.

The distance between the two Pokémon is fair. It takes Zorua several jumps to arrive at the Grimer and it’s enough time wasted in the process for my opponent to act. His hand lifts in what resembles a harsh command as he raises his voice. “Take it!”

“Hah?” I blink several times in disbelief. Is this guy trying to make me win?

Ying takes it as a welcome gift and slams both paws into the side of Grimer. Mud splashes to either side, gums up Ying’s fur, seems to eat into it, and disappears at the same moment she jumps back. The attack did purely nothing.

“Dark-type attacks are useless ... or any attack that doesn’t just hit my Grimer’s weakness.” He puffs out his chest proudly. “Do what you will, but you will lose this fight.”

I want to inquire, want to find out why he thinks we’ll lose if his Grimer does next to nothing and Ying can attack permanently. He could hardly make it easier for us. But a glance at Zorua turns our chances to misery.

She is wavering. Zorua’s tail hangs limply and her legs tremble. Her breathing is faster than usual, forcing her to pant, and another glance at Grimer triggers a scratch in my throat. “Poison...”

“Too late detected, I’m afraid. And without an antidote, you won’t be able to win.” He thrusts his hands to his hips. “You should give up here and now. I think everyone knows what happens when a Pokémon is poisoned, right?”

My lips press together so tightly that I forget to breathe for a moment. I have to give up. Ying cannot continue this fight. The poison in her body will eat away at her organs – it will kill her if I don’t take her to the Pokémon Center immediately.

A quick glance at Hala reveals that he still believes in a fight. He wants to see how far we really want to go. Probably a perfectly natural view of things, but it’s not his Pokémon that has death drawn on its fur, either.

Trembling, I suck the air deep into my lungs. I can’t let Zorua go on. She’s too precious for that. Too important for me to sacrifice her in the face of my desire. But before I can make a single sound, Ying lets out a stubborn bark. Loud and obstinate, as if she is angry about something. And before I can grasp the situation, she rushes towards the Grimer again.

Without further ado, she lashes out with her paw and slams it down on the motionless Pokémon, which simply accepts her blow. But this time she isn’t satisfied with one. Rage drives her on.

Repeatedly, she scratches at the slime, letting her claws penetrate deep into the ugly mass and spreading it in the immediate vicinity. So fierce, so unyielding, that even Flamian opens his mouth. He wants to issue a command, but cannot find the words. All that remains between us is Ying’s rage, threatening to tear Grimer to pieces. Claws scraping away slimy green. Hissing at the poison circulating through her body a little faster with each movement.

“Stop...” The words on my tongue are just a whisper. The tightness of my throat burns. Heat pools in my cheeks, making my vision watery. She's going to die. “Ying ... stop it...” My hands clench into fists. “It’s okay...” I swallow. “Ying... Ying. Ying!” The last words escape me like a scream. “Stop it!”

She obeys. With her hind paws she pushes away from Grimer and, with a somersault, covers the distance back to me. She comes up halfway steadily on her paws. Her nose is bleeding. Her eyes look misty. The panting has probably already dried out her lungs, and the trembling has taken over her entire body.

“H...Hah!” Even the boy’s voice quivers. “Looks like you’ll have to stay here!”

Maybe I’ll have to. At least in a fair way, until I think of something else. Until I come up with a plan to get out of here. Someday, when Ying is well again.

The rustling of the meadows is all at once very present. The call for freedom tugs at me. Maybe that’s what spurred Ying on. It’s so clear, so close, so insistent that it almost seems as if the Magnemite from earlier has found us again. Right next to us. Right in the field.

But what jumps out is something else.