Appetizer 1.5

Aaron Fulan

Slateport City, Hoenn Region

Having the alakazite in my possession was a weight off my mind. I skipped, skipped, across the Market with a shit-eating grin that wouldn't be amiss on a sneasel in a chicken coop. It wasn't just about the mega stone but what it represented: My knowledge was real and applicable in this world.

Sure, there were some differences, such as how the stone wasn't half-buried in the ground, but that could be chalked up to how early I was in canon.

Even better, Artoria could sense the power coming from a mega stone. Or, at least, from the alakazite. It could be that the power was subtle enough that she couldn't find it unless she was already looking. Or it could be that the psychic type energy let off by the alakazite was perceivable only to other psychics. The latter would make some sense and play a part in explaining why these things were so hard to find. The right trainer with the right pokémon had to be in the right place, preferably with the right knowledge.

Unlikely.

The alakazite also presented a question for me: Where do I go now?

I initially planned to head up to Mauville. There, I'd challenge Wattson, followed by Moore. Then I'd circle back to Rustboro for Roxanne, who'd only recently become a gym leader, and to Petalburg for normie-Norman. I'd have to double back yet again to catch a ferry from Rustboro to Dewford to pick a fight with Brawly. By then, I'd have a powerful enough team that I should be able to fly or teleport wherever I needed to go so I could take on Fortree, Mossdeep, and Sootopolis in any order I preferred.

It wasn't perfect, but I did have a plan.

And yet, with the alakazite, the allure of Dewford beckoned.

More specifically, Granite Cave. It was one of the few places in the Hoenn Region that a trainer could find an abra. The urge to acquire an abra as soon as possible was strong. The more time I had with one, the better our bond would be. When I finally acquired a key stone, mega evolution would be a much smoother process.

I walked aimlessly through the Market, pondering my options. Finally, I decided to leave it to Artoria.

"Artoria?"

'Yes, my lord?'

"Dewford or Mauville?"

'Pardon me?'

"Should we take another passenger ship to Dewford tomorrow or should we keep to our plan for Mauville?"

'I… I do not know. What are the benefits of changing our course?'

"An abra. The mega stone we acquired is for an alakazam and acquiring an abra would let me bond with one for longer, hopefully making mega evolution a smoother process. Also, Dewford's a fighting type gym, which would give you a significant advantage."

'I…' She quieted at that.

"Artoria?"

'M-May I be selfish, my lord?'

"Of course, what's wrong?" Her aura flickered yellow, then white, then purple until it settled on a greenish, psychedelic haze. She was literally green with envy. I swept her off my shoulder and held her in my hands. "Artoria. I'm not replacing you."

'I… I just… I want to be the only psychic for a while. E-Even if it's just a sleepy abra.'

"Yeah, that's fine. There's your own mega stone in Verdanturf anyway."

'Truly?'

"Yeah. Or at least, I'm really hoping so. We'll head to Mauville for our first badge then to Verdanturf. Sound good?"

'Yes, my lord,' she sniffed. 'That sounds perfect.'

Was I being manipulated by a ralts? Perhaps, but I couldn't find it in me to care. A gardevoirite was just as valid as an abra after all. And truth be told, as a sponsored trainer of Mossdeep Gym, it wouldn't be too difficult to contact a breeder for an abra of my own when I had more cash.

Course decided, we browsed some more until we stumbled upon a TM store. A lanky, dark-skinned woman grinned up at me from a blanket on the floor.

"Well, dearie? See something you like?"

I glanced at the signs. She had a fair selection: Double Team, Protect, and Hidden Power. Artoria already knew Double Team, but Protect would go a long way to giving her some survivability. In general, the ralts line learned a staggering number of supporting moves, but I considered Protect chief among them all.

"Yes, ma'am," I said, far more politely than when I'd haggled with Gavin. "How much is the Protect TM?"

"Oh, that thing? Just 5,000 LC."

I balked. It was a fair price, truth be told. A TM with obvious tactical uses like that could go for even more, but five grand was already my entire monthly stipend and more than I had on me. I had hoped that this being the Market, it'd be a bit cheaper.

This was a TM, not some glass bauble or a bundle of produce. I didn't even try to argue.

"I'm sorry, ma'am. I don't have that kind of money right now," I said with a bow. "Perhaps next time."

"Hehe, such a polite young man. Alright dear. You come back."

I shrugged. Artoria had plenty on her plate as it was anyway.

TMs were a bit like 3D printers back in my world. Professionals could make works of art. Major companies like Silph Co. made them in bulk from the memories of powerful pokémon, paying their memory donors in accordance with the move's rarity, power, and sale value. Some gyms or labs were known for them, though not all and they usually made only a few signature moves.

Others, usually retired trainers with the capital to burn, bought TM Scanners that could do the same on a smaller scale. It was a good source of income, though one that required a fairly expensive startup cost. That lady running the TM stand was probably one such retiree.

After a morning of walking around the Market, Artoria and I grabbed an early lunch at a beachside café. We sat outside enjoying the sun. Figuring that I may as well enjoy more seafood while I could get it fresh, I ordered myself a po boy made of clauncher claws. Ethically harvested, or so the menu claimed. Artoria enjoyed a tomato and shrimp bisque in a bowl as large as her head paired with a piece of garlic bread she could sleep on.

We'd be taking some of that home, but I didn't care. I snapped a few pictures of my partner struggling not to fall into her soup to send to Tate and Liza.

Our view looked out into the pier, where we could spy dozens of beachgoers. More than a few were fishermen, though I knew that most had no intention of actually eating anything they caught. If they cared, they wouldn't be fishing so close to shore.

Among them were people who were battling in the sand. That crowd was made up of an eclectic group of people. Some were like me, fresh out of trainer school, and could be identified by the generic pokémon they possessed, each native to the wilds surrounding Slateport and no doubt handed out by the contest hall or one of the several minor gyms in the area. Those were mostly marill and zigzagoon, though I spied the odd skitty or three.

There were also a fair mix of more experienced trainers. Most of these were sailors who were on shore leave, shooting the breeze and letting their pokémon stretch their legs. Even in this life, sailors had the reputation of being a rough and tumble sort, eager to start throwing hands and just as quick to make up over a pint.

We were mostly done when one of the battles caught my attention. A machop grabbed a zigzagoon by the tail and spun it around before hurling it out of the arena, a rough circle drawn into the ground.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

"Heh, ya see that? Me 'n' machop ain't gonna lose to some normal type," said the sailor to the dismayed boy.

"Aww man, I thought Ziggy had you."

"Nah, ya gotta work on that speed more. Take Down's a good move, but it ain't worth anything if you're predictable."

I nodded. That sailor looked like he had his shit together. More importantly, he was willing to coach some youngster while on his shore leave. The machop looked well-trained. It didn't show off any fancy moves, but its foundations were excellent.

Perfect.

I nudged my partner. "Think you're up for a battle?"

'My lord?'

"That machop over there. He's a pure hand to hand fighter and doesn't have any ranged attacks from what I can tell. Even better, he's also well-trained and his trainer doesn't mind helping out the younger kids there. I think it'd be a good experience for you to fight someone physically stronger than you."

That last comment lit a fire in her. I literally saw the white fire of resolve kindle around her, replacing her contemplation. Sometimes, pokémon were such predictable creatures.

'I will bring you victory,' she exclaimed, her excited cries of "Ralts! Ralts! Raaalts!" drawing more than a little attention.

Laughing, I paid the bill and hurried out onto the sand.

"Hey, mister," I called to the man with a machop. "Does that machop have the gas for one more battle?"

The machop and his trainer turned towards me as one. They were like mirrors of each other, same water bottle and towel slung over their necks. I could tell the exact moment they finished looking us over because of the sharklike grins that spread across their faces.

"Hoh? Another one, eh? And smart, too. Ya think bringin' a psychic-fairy against a fighter like my boy machop can tip the odds for ya? That's good. Ya should always think about types when ya can."

"Actually, sir, I was hoping you could give my Artoria here a lesson in close combat."

He blinked. "Eh?"

"You see, Artoria here wants to be a swordmaster one day and she fights without ranged attacks at all. No Confusion, Psybeam, or anything."

"Haha, that's an interesting one for sure. Alright, kid. Get in the ring," he gestured. "He'll take you on.

I ignored the customary whispers and pointed fingers and took my place across from him.

"Artoria."

'Yes, my lord,' she said firmly. She stepped off my shoulder and fell in a graceful front flip before rolling perfectly into a ready stance, sword-spoon at the ready. She then announced to all and sundry, 'Behold the glory of my sword!'

I sighed, hand covering my face. My little ralts was chuuni enough for a dozen Japanese middle schools. "You didn't need to broadcast that."

"Hahaha, it's good to be fired up, right, machop?"

"Ma! Machop!" the reptilian muscle-kid shouted.

The two began in close quarters. By some unspoken agreement, they began to circle each other with neither 'mon making more than three feet of distance away from the other. It almost looked comical, especially because the machop, in a typical karate stance, was almost twice as tall as my ralts.

"Hiki-kote," I called.

She sent me a subtle mental nudge to affirm that she heard me and continued to wait. When the two had circled the ring fully, the machop finally decided to begin.

He stepped forward aggressively with a punch. On someone his height, it would have been aimed at the solar plexus. Against Artoria, it was aimed squarely at her head.

She was expecting it. She took a large step back, feet slightly unsteady against the sand, and struck his wrist with the edge of her spoon.

"Machop!" he cried. He fought through the pain and instantly flowed into a vicious combination.

It was only through pure repetition that she was able to dodge, countering with a nuki-men, a side-stepping strike to the forehead.

"Kendo? Interesting. I didn't expect a ralts to know that."

"Thanks. I felt that it suited her better than western sword arts."

"You sure? Because that spoon looks more like a large ax in her hands."

"Heh, yeah. She'll grow into it."

We watched them dance back and forth, his machop clearly probing her even as she dodged and stumbled in the sand. After that nuki-men, he'd yet to take another blow, her skills alone too slow to keep up with the instinctive martial artist.

It was said that karate in this world was developed when humans first began to cooperate with machop in Kanto, hence the name, "empty hand." A literally empty hand outstretched in friendship across species… if you were feeling poetic.

Still, I could see why some thought so. I was no expert, but his movements were firm and crisp, fluid in a way that most humans took years to get right.

Even as they battled, I could hear the machop grunting something or other at Artoria. Judging by the way she shuffled every now and then to correct her stance, he was giving her advice on where to keep her elbows.

Finally, the sailor grew impatient. "Enough, let's kick it up a notch. Low Kick!"

The machop responded by crouching low. His tail helped to balance his weight as his foot shot out towards Artoria. Artoria went flying, though not of her own initiative.

"Ralts!" she cried as she rolled and spat out a mouthful of dirt.

She was finding out the hard way that a sword wasn't always the best weapon to guard against attacks aimed at the legs. Standing on shaky legs, she put on a massive burst of speed, launching herself like a rocket using Mana Burst. A cloud of sand followed in her wake.

"She's fast. Tank and Revenge!" my opponent barked.

"Mana Edge!"

Her spoon began to glow with the eerie violet light of psychic energy. Seeing this, the machop responded in kind. His muscled enlarged and steam began to visibly waft from his hardened skin.

'Bulk Up. He must have visited Dewford at some point,' I thought. That meant the sailor had at least one badge and our chances of victory plummeted. Still, I didn't voice my thoughts and watched the collision.

The burst of psychic power cut deep, destabilizing as it came into contact with the machop's body.

"Chop!" he cried out in pain. Though type advantages weren't the be all end all of pokémon like they were in the games, there was something mystical about psychic energy that fighters just couldn't cope with. No amount of hardened muscles seemed to be enough to fully negate a psychic type attack and a machop just didn't have the experience or power needed to withstand one head on.

He proved the worth of his training. Even as he was flung back with a deep gash across one forearm, his body glowed with crimson light before a vicious kick launched my ralts away like a ragdoll.

"Ralts!"

The sailor doffed his cap and by mutual agreement, we gave our pokémon a moment to catch their bearings.

"A psychic type sword art? Now I've seen everything. It's got the makings of a powerful Psycho Cut one day."

"Heh, yeah. Hope so. I didn't think your machop would be able to retaliate like that. Dewford?"

"Yup. Got the badge with my poliwrath a few months ago when we were docked there. Got bored of the town and figured some training would do us good. Had him teach my boy here Bulk Up."

I nodded. "Figures. He's really strong."

"Thanks, that little missy packs a wallop too."

Slowly, the machop staggered to his feet, clearly feeling a little dizzy from the onslaught of energies that assaulted both his body and mind. Across from him, Artoria rose to one knee with her spoon as a crutch.

"Artoria, you good or should we stop? I think you've learned plenty from him."

'I wish to continue, my lord,' I heard her voice projected all around. She had a wicked grin on her face. This was the first opponent who had pushed her this far. Biter the poochyena was nothing in comparison.

"Hah! The little missy's got fire. How 'bout you, machop? You wanna keep going or punch the clock?"

"Ma! Machop!"

"Heh. That's it. Alright then. Round two?"

"Three, I think, your machop's already sent Artoria into the dirt before. One loss. One draw."

"Then let's make this the last! Machop, Karate Chop!"

The two fell into another rhythm of punches and slashes, each being parried or sidestepped with expert precision. I tried to pay attention to Artoria's stance so I could correct her slip ups later, but she was already moving beyond the ability of most humans. And yet, she was slowly being pushed back.

'I guess she's reached the point where kendo just isn't good enough by itself.'

She dodged out of the way of a Focus Energy enhanced Karate Chop with a hasty Mana Burst, blowing sand behind her. That gave me an idea.

"Mana Burst. Run rings!"

I felt our minds tick in unison as our senses of self began to blur. She responded exactly as I envisioned and began to run along the outside of the ring, kicking up beach sand in a large cloud. It wasn't quite Sandstorm, there was no cutting wind to grind against our foes, but at this level of battle, a smokescreen was plenty effective.

"Machop?" Her opponent paused, unsure of how to proceed.

"Double Team then Mana Edge!"

"Heh, well done," the sailor smiled, already seeing how this would end.

Artoria's silhouette multiplied, splitting into four before they emerged as one. She and her clones closed in like a pack of wolves. And with the sand obscuring her shadow, it became almost impossible for machop to discern the real one.

Still, he made a valiant effort of it. Instead of waiting for the four to close, he rushed forward, clotheslining two who were coming from the front. That was the right call, reducing as many possibilities as he could before he was forced to guess.

With whipcord muscles, he turned on a dime and chose the one coming from his right. He punched, and missed.

I could see the exact moment that he realized what was coming. There was resignation in his aura, but excitement too, applause for a worthy opponent.

'Hyaaahhhh!' her mental voice rang throughout the crowd as she put forth one more Mana Burst, landing a perfect strike to the back of his head. She skidded to a stop, landing on her knees with her sword stuck in the sand like an oar at sea. Behind her, the machop fell unconscious.

Panting, she rose and looked me in the eyes. 'I have emerged victorious, my lord.'

I knelt in front of her and took her tiny hands in mine. "It was a splendid victory."

At the end of the day, a psychic won against a fighter. That wasn't extraordinary. It was barely a feat worth mentioning, despite machop's greater experience. And yet, that dazzling smile and the aura of sheer joy and pride blazing around her made it all worthwhile.

I waved the 200 LC away. "Don't bother, sir. Your machop held back a fair bit."

"Ehh, not as much as you'd think. He's used to sparring with my poliwrath for sure, but it's the first time he's faced a psychic, even a strange one like your ralts. Take it. She earned it, didn't she? You go and buy her something nice, you hear?"

"Well, when you put it that way…"

I did my best to ignore the questions and took Artoria to the pokémon center. That she didn't even have the energy to protest being carried in my arms spoke volumes.

Author's Note

Sailor-y accents are hard…

"Hiki" means to go backwards and is one of the attacking forms. The kendoka takes a step back and in the same motion strikes the opponent.

Thank you for reading. To reach a wider audience, and because I enjoy a more forum-like setup to facilitate discussion, I like to crosspost to a wide variety of websites. You can find them all on my Link Tree: https://linktr.ee/fabled.webs.