I felt my mood had significantly improved after my playful argument with Pidgey, and once the bickering drew to a halt, I wandered off to just meander the pasture. I was feeling a little aimless, really, and I was trying to just unwind and relax. For the next few hours, I let my concerns drift away from my mind to focus on the moment. I spent some time mingling with the other Pokémon, and now that I was looking for it, I could pick out examples of those who Mable accused me of instigating toward battling.
A particularly energetic Bidoof hopped around and batted at his companions with his forelegs during their attempts to form an afternoon napping pile, to little effect. You know what? That actually doesn't sound like a bad idea. I've mostly done my battling practice as a Pidgey, with brief stints in the Scyther form. I was really quite narrow in how many forms I battled in, and I was understanding all the more Mister Patel's caution toward the kids about the difficulties of training a Ditto into a flexible counter-pick option.
I just can't seem to settle in and relax, can I? I hadn't wanted to spar with Pidgey, but it was more out of concern for how she might be feeling after the previous day. I told myself I was going to relax, and despite my best efforts, it seems like I needed to train and wear myself out before my body was willing to just sit down and enjoy a quiet day. Honestly, experimenting with my different forms was fun for me, and in a stress-free environment like this... battling sort of was relaxing. Maybe I was starting to realize why Pokémon seemed to want to battle all the time, voluntarily? Something about the idea of growing stronger was compelling, all the more so when the voice in the back of my head whispered that the stronger I was, the safer those around me I wanted to protect would be.
With a sheen of energy across my body, I decided to shift into a Pokémon I had seen a single time, and hadn't seen do any battling. Fur sprouted over my body as I adjusted to four-legged posture in a short stagger, steadying myself as a copy of the police officer's Growlithe I had seen the other day. Transformations still took a moment to adjust to for me, particularly when I was shifting the number and arrangement of limbs I had. My instincts told me what to do, but my brain struggled somewhere in the transition of thinking as forelimbs as legs rather than arms, or dealing with the additional number of appendages.
Trotting in a quick circle just to test my agility, which slowly improved under the mobility, I barked at the energetic Bidoof to get their attention. There was something about this form that made me bubble up with excitement and enthusiasm, and I realized that my tail was wagging eagerly in anticipation of 'playing'. Once the plump, buck-toothed face aimed its stare my way, I lowered myself down in a stance that was a preparation to leap forward, wriggling from side to side with borderline boundless energy.
"You wanna battle, right? Come on, let's battle!" My words were clipped and fired out at a rapid pace, and I felt as if restraint was a foreign concept. It was hard to even pause long enough to extend an invitation and wait for a response, as my body was screaming at me to move, to take action. Were fire-types really the epitome of hot-headed recklessness, or was it something to do with the puppy-energy of being a Growlithe?
The Bidoof nodded with an eager "Alright!" and left his fellows alone, to their great relief, and we ran off a short distance away to claim an empty patch of grass. Arceus, running felt good in this form. I just wanted to go, and go, and go! I coursed energy through my muscles before I realized what I was doing, amping up myself up further. The energy settled into my musculature, and I felt faster and faster, dashing about as an orange-furred blur, running literal circles around the Bidoof with my use of Agility.
My earnest demeanor must have been infectious, as the Bidoof tucked his head down toward his stomach and began to curl up. I mistook it as a gesture of defensive measures, assuming that he was using Defense Curl to reduce the impact of any moves I might make. That meant I was utterly unprepared for when he began to roll forward just as fast as I was dashing, readily following after me like a seeker-missile, a dark brown energy covering the Bidoof's body as it crushed a trail through the grass, a rocky shell forming briefly around their frame.
While I briefly wondered how Bidoof was able to see and steer if using Rollout locked him in that protective shell in such a fashion, the thought was hurriedly pushed out of my head by that darned blind excitement. My next thought was that this was a fun game! I recognized that Rollout was going to hurt more the longer my opponent built up their momentum, but that was only if I was going to get hit! And there was no way I was going to get caught, I was too fast for that!
The chase was on, an excitedly barking Growlithe dashing around and hopping from side to side in evasive maneuvers being pursued by a rolling ball of rocky earth that grew in size as it travelled across the ground. Despite picking up size, the attack grew faster and faster, forcing me to redouble my Agility in order to stay ahead. I could no longer outrun the Bidoof on straight lines, so I had to dive to the side, zig-zagging back and forth to watch the great mass of the rolling ball struggle in the sharp turns.
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I lost track of how many minutes the chase had been going on, lost in the pleasure of running and dodging, savoring every close-call. Growing more and more daring as I took riskier actions like turning to face the incoming attack and leaping over it to force Bidoof into a complete one-eighty turn and making them bleed off their momentum. In the time that it took to reorient toward me, I hiked my head toward the sky and let out a loud, reverberating howling to try and vent some of the fire running through my blood, calling out a challenge toward my opponent.
The movements of the attack were growing more and more sluggish, the last few passes not containing the same power that the Rollout had built up. I could only assume that the Bidoof inside was tiring. I could have run away and waited for the move to fall apart, but that wasn't what my burning excitement wanted. What kind of pathetic finish to our playing around would that be, to win without a direct clash? So I turned toward the Rollout, my confidence growing even as it barreled toward me as I noticed cracks in the rocky shell and material flaking off as it rolled. It looked brittle.
A brilliant red energy coursed through my body, but it wasn't the heat of fire. No, it was the pure exertion of muscle, of brute force, tensing in preparation of being hit and intending to hit back that much harder. Faster. Faster. I felt like I was running straight at an oncoming train, and I could feel the thrill of it sinking into my very bones. Then there was an impact, and a loud BANG reverberated through the pasture. The ball of rocky material all but exploded, sending bits raining down over the area, the impact of it making the red glow around my body glare with painful brightness, a brilliant crimson corona surrounding my figure with an intensity to rival the sun.
Despite the pain, I slammed forward with a twist in my body, all but throwing myself into a sideways shoulder-barge at the exposed Bidoof, and the pair of us impacted and rolled across the grass like ragdolls. Only once we finally came to a stop and I was left panting with my muzzle opened wide, panting desperately for air, with my limbs too wobbly to readily stand up did I feel satisfied. That was a good battle, and that was the proper way to end it!
I glanced over at my companion, who seemed to be completely out cold after the particular efficacy of landing a super-effective, powered-up Reversal. I felt a little guilty, and I managed to scoot across the grass to nose at them out of concern, a whimpering "Are you alright? I didn't hit you that hard!" escaping me. I suddenly felt like the older brother who had gotten in a fight with a sibling, and didn't want them running off to tell mom I had hit them.
Fortunately, when prompted the Bidoof opened their eyes and glanced my way. grinning a buck-toothed smile. "I'm okay, just sore! That was fun though!" Despite sounding tired, the voice was still enthusiastic, and I nodded frantically in agreement.
"We should do it again sometime!"
"Oh, totally! Just, not right now, 'cause I'm pooped."
"Yeah. Not right now. But I practice with Pidgey sometimes, and you can totally come over and practice with us sometime, if you want!"
"That sounds fun! I saw you guys battling before, but I didn't want to interrupt. Sure, I'll come practice with you sometime."
Alright, that's another member for what I was starting to consider a little club of battle-desiring Pokémon on the pasture! I just hoped Mable wouldn't have an issue with me encouraging those who seemed interested in it to battle more. Should I ask her? ... No, I'm sure it's fine. After all, she didn't have any objections to my practicing with Pidgey up to this point. And besides, I couldn't break the first rule of battle club: don't talk about battle club! I chuckled quietly to myself. I always wanted to say a movie line like that, but it felt a little silly. Like anyone else would understand what was going through my head, so I'd best keep the remark to myself.
"You know what sounds good?" I asked, nodding toward the rest of the settled-in Bidoof in their usual pile-up of fluffy bodies. "Taking a nap after playing around. Then by the time we get up, it'll probably be time for dinner." When my companion nodded in agreement, two worn-out Pokémon all but crawled across the grass side by side and flopped against the side of the Pokémon-pile. I let my eyes drift closed and I settled in for a nap, unaware that Mable had been watching the entire goings-on of my battling.
She was standing at the back of the house, sorting out the berries as was part of the preparations for every meal on the pasture, shaking her head in amusement... or possibly resignation. "I just told that little troublemaker earlier today to take it easy and that there was no rush, and there he goes making such a fuss again. I swear, I won't have a single quiet day around here ever again as long as he's being so... rambunctious." It didn't sound like a complaint, though, and the corners of her mouth lifted up into a smile as she turned her stare down toward the counter, resuming her interrupted berry sorting duties.
"I suppose a little liveliness around this old house isn't exactly a bad thing. Arceus above, I don't know what sort of trainer can handle this little terror on my pasture, but you don't have to be in too much of a hurry to send 'em over. I wouldn't want anyone to take him off on an adventure before I manage to knock some proper manners into that pudding-headed goofball. Otherwise, who knows how much trouble he'd get into?"