Salad 2.5

Aaron Fulan

Verdanturf Town, Hoenn Region

As promised, we kicked off the next morning with a light jog towards the Verdant Meadows Trainers' School. Mr. Thrush was waiting outside, wearing that same polo with the school logo on it. He smiled… maybe… His beard-fro made it kind of hard to tell his expression if his mouth wasn't open.

"Good morning, Mr. Thrush," I greeted as I panted lightly to catch my breath. "Hope I'm not too late."

"No, son, you're just in time. Are you ready? I'm looking for a battle with both your mareep and kirlia, more if they have the stamina for it."

"No problem, stamina's been a huge part of our training since day one. Your students will have plenty of opportunities to battle us."

"Glad to hear it. Now come on, this way."

Mr. Thrush led me into the school, first to the office to register the job as official, and then to his class. The interior of the school was painted a cheery pastel-green, with flower patterns and pictures of a volbeat wearing a green scarf dotted throughout. The "Verdant Volbeat" was their mascot as I found out.

The classroom had the complete opposite air as the rest of the school, not because the décor was different, but because it was filled with children. As it was explained to me, Mr. Thrush's class consisted of ten year old kids, which meant they had several years of schooling to become familiar with pokémon. Now, they were mostly eager for their journeys and looking forward to battling and contests, even if they still had three years to go.

Like any other class of children, it was bedlam. Artoria visibly winced as she entered, unused to so much attention on her. I gently tugged on the bond, taking her conscious out of her body and into mine for a bit. It put distance between the wave of emotions she could feel and her mind.

'Thank you, my lord.'

I sent back the mental equivalent of a shoulder-squeeze and headpat.

"Hey, kids, time to take a seat," Mr. Thrush called. He continued once they'd quieted down a bit. Artoria gingerly exited my mind back into her own. "This is Aaron and he's a new trainer. I know most of you are eager for your first taste of battling, so I found a trainer to let you get your toes wet."

"Do you have any dragons?" one boy asked.

I snorted. Boys would be boys no matter the world. "No, but I have a fairy," I said, gesturing to my kirlia.

"Eww, fairies are girly."

"They're immune to dragon energy, you doofus," a girl retorted before I could say anything back. Not entirely true, but close enough. "They're better than dragons."

That was as far as we got before the class devolved into bickering. Mr. Thrush was quick to restore order with a loud clap.

"Enough! You kids are going to battle Aaron's kirlia and mareep using the school pokémon. Extra credit to the one who wins a battle," he called.

"Can I use my starter?" another boy asked.

"Ye. If you have one, you can. You should take every chance to get to know your starter."

I heard a few kids grumble at that. Mom flat out refused to give me Artoria until I was thirteen, but it wasn't a hard-coded law or anything. It'd be impossible to enforce. A farmer's son might do his chores with the family growlithe and if said growlithe became his starter, who could say otherwise?

Although only high scorers could receive a starter from gyms or labs, and there was some prestige attached to getting a starter in this way, not everyone tried for a sponsorship right off the bat like that. Besides the competitiveness, the unfortunate fact was that like most internship opportunities in my old world, sponsors could demand a wide array of tasks in return and those might not fit the desired lifestyle or personal ambition of the trainer. It wasn't common, but nor was it unheard of for a family to make their own arrangements.

I remembered being unreasonably jealous of a boy in our class who got to start with his spheal years early because his father was the warden of Shoal Cave's nature preserve. He, having a spheal bred for combat, absolutely steamrolled our baby zigzagoon in battle class. Literally, given its fondness of Rollout.

Not that I'd trade Artoria for anything, of course.

As we led the kids outside, I nudged him. "Was it necessary to place a bounty on me?"

"No, but your pokémon look like the sort who're eager to battle. Besides, only two kids in class have their own starters so everyone else will be using school pokémon."

'I relish the challenge, my lord,' my kirlia said. She danced forward three steps, her spoon slashing at some invisible enemy. She was practically vibrating with the thought.

As for Jeanne, she couldn't care less. Battles were a way for her to "outshine the stars." The opponent wasn't particularly relevant in that regard so long as they could take a hit and didn't outclass her abilities completely.

We were led back to the field from yesterday where we saw the shiftry and sceptile duking it out. Mr. Thrush took the role of the referee and motioned for me to take a side. He then pushed a cart laden with pokéballs to the opposite side. Those contained the school pokémon, probably fed and placed into their balls less than an hour ago.

Back in Mossdeep, there was a rotating schedule to allow each class to clean, prep, and fetch the pokémon from the school corral each week with the goal of exposing us to the ancillary tasks related to being a trainer, such as picking up raccoon shit first thing in the morning. Smart or no, zigzagoons didn't exactly come with opposable thumbs. I wondered if they did something similar here.

"Right, so this is how it's going to work," Mr. Thrush told us. "Aaron will send out one pokémon, then the other, switching after every battle. Each of you will get a turn with one pokémon until one of his pokémon cannot battle. Then Aaron can either choose to keep going with one pokémon or quit for the day. Am I understood?"

"Yes, sir," we called as one.

The first up to bat was a tall girl with thick glasses and straight, blue hair.

"I have an A already so I don't need to win for extra credit. I'll just soften you up for my friends," she said primly. I couldn't tell if she wanted to brag or was trying to give her classmates an edge. It was cute in that bratty way some children had… which was an admittedly strange thought considering I was only three years her senior. She grasped a pokéball at random and called, "Go!"

Out popped a whismur, the so-called whisper pokémon. It was about two feet tall, the same height as my own pokémon. It was unexpected, not because whismur were dangerous, not like their evolved forms, but because they were so damn shy. They were called "whisper pokémon" despite their incredibly developed lungs because they almost never vocalized unless directly threatened.

"Which one of you wants to-" I started, only for Jeanne to rush off into the field. "That solves that, I guess."

"She didn't even let me volunteer,' I felt my partner pout.

'Don't sulk, Artoria, there are twenty kids in the class. You're going to be drowning in battles soon enough.'

'Very well, I shall let Jeanne have the first spar.'

Seeing both of us ready, Mr. Thrush opened a pokéball at his belt, releasing a hefty-looking grumpig. The porcine psychic's gaze flickered between me and Artoria before nodding in acknowledgement. That it could feel our mental connection indicated a whole lot of experience. It couldn't listen in, not without us knowing, but the tendril of psychic energy that linked us was evident to any experienced psychic.

A set of psychic barriers rose up to box the pokémon in. "Mareep versus whismur, go!"

I stood back, hands in my pockets, waiting to see what my opponent would do. She looked confident for a student, not that I was all that much better. It'd only been a little under two months since I left home after all.

"Echo Voice, whismur!"

"Whiii-WHISMUR!" it roared, sounding for all the world like a jet engine. The whismur was not at all shy about raising its voice, proving that dex stereotypes were rarely reliable.

Echo Voice was an aura-enhanced blast of sound. As expected of sound, it was stupidly fast. All I saw was a ripple of air tinged vaguely with white before the attack knocked into my mareep. It barely turned her head, but I remembered the general mechanics: Its damage would increase if the move was used consecutively.

Jeanne retaliated with a sparking Thunder Shock that the whismur barely avoided by hopping to the left.

I wondered how Echo Voice worked. I could see "increasing damage" if two or more pokémon used the move simultaneously as sound waves of the same frequency built off each other, but for a single pokémon to do it? Sound didn't work that way but pokémon collectively told physics to get bent on the daily so what did I know?

'Still, if it's sound, wool is good at muffling sound, right?' I shrugged. It was better than sitting around and letting that whismur get off another Echo Voice for free. "Cotton Spore. Drown it!"

"Ma-reep!" My sheep let out a bleating battle cry that was more cute than fierce and her wool began to glow with aura. Balls of wool nearly as large as Jeanne flooded the field, flung in the whismur's general direction.

I smiled proudly as dozens of woolen balls struck the ground around the whismur. Watching it was like watching the world's fluffiest mortar barrage. The whismur tried its best to dodge, but a single misstep was enough. The residual static of Jeanne's wool made it cling like briars.

"Whismur, no!"

Unfortunately for her, a whismur lacked the physical strength, or hands, to separate itself from the wool and it soon rolled around on the ground, completely stuck.

"Finish it with Thunder Shock," I ordered.

A bolt of electricity arced from Jeanne's horns and struck the conductive wool. The whismur was still conscious and wriggling, but Mr. Thrush held out his flag. This was par for the course as far as I could remember; most trainers' school pokémon weren't exactly hardened battlers. Forcing it to continue battling after being so thoroughly outmatched would be unnecessarily cruel.

"Victor, mareep! Rotate!"

Jeanne ran back to me. She rose on her hind legs to lean on my knees. "Mareep. Reep!" she cheered, her horns and tail glowing a jolly yellow.

"You were great, Jeanne. Catch your breath and wait, okay?"

'I will not keep her waiting long, my lord,' Artoria said confidently. She walked onto the field at a more sedate pace, her spoon slung over her shoulder.

My next opponent was a boy who wore a red vest and a straw hat. He had a big, shit-eating grin on his face that reminded me of youthful days. "Ya ready, old dude?"

"I'm thirteen," I said flatly.

"That's old."

I grunted and waved him off. "Whatever, go ahead and reveal your pokémon."

Mom used to say different people threw their pokéballs differently. It wasn't just that some people tried for actual baseball pitches. Some released their pokémon close to them. Others nearer to my side of the field as if claiming territory. She once told me that even this initial placement could say a lot about the trainer.

I had no fucking clue what she was talking about because the boy in front of me flung the thing as high in the air as he could. He wasn't going for distance, just height, so it at least still landed on his side of the field.

There was the customary flash of light and out popped Artoria's opponent: an oddish. I could feel her disappointment. She had already faced a roselia in Mauville before and they were the more "competitive" grass/poison hybrids.

'I'm starting to think you've been digging around a bit too deep in my memories,' I chided.

'Is it not true?'

'Competitive pokémon knowledge is only sometimes reliable here. Don't underestimate your opponent because the species was not considered strong in my world. Likewise, don't overestimate an opponent for the same either. Most would say a gardevoir is a horrible physical attacker, but here you are proving them wrong.'

Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

'As you say, my liege. I apologize for my hasty judgment.'

Truthfully, an oddish was closer to what I'd expected coming in. Verdanturf was certainly not lacking in the species after all. It was somewhat unusual to see an oddish willing to fight during the day, they generally preferred being active at night, but perhaps the unusually large population of bellossom adjusted their sleeping habits.

"Are both trainers ready?" Mr. Thrush asked.

"Yes, sir."

"Yeah!"

"Then begin!"

The boy wasted zero time in calling for the attack. "Acid, oddish!"

'Evade,' I told her. A stream of violet liquid was fired from the oddish's mouth and Artoria easily sidestepped the attack. The poison type could be problematic, but oddish weren't exactly known for being too speedy.

I didn't think the battle would challenge her, so I decided to impose some restrictions. 'Can you beat it without using Teleport?'

'Challenge accepted,' she replied, our bond flaring with competitive spirit.

'No Mana Burst either.'

"Yes, my lord.'

Artoria moved like a ballerina, twisting and weaving to a symphony only she could hear. I didn't even have to give her an order. Then again, I supposed that after dodging electric bolts from Jeanne, a ball of fluid must have looked quite slow in comparison.

To her credit, she humored the oddish for a time, intentionally refusing to close the gap all the while telling her something.

All we heard was a series of "Kirlia-kir" and humming, but the oddish looked more determined after each advice.

I snorted. My kirlia was becoming Uncle Iroh.

'Who is this "Uncle Iroh?"'

'A brilliant general. A mighty warrior. A wise teacher. He was once stopped by a robber, but instead of defeating the robber physically or allowing himself to be robbed, he took the third option of teaching the robber martial arts, listening to his woes, and showing him a better path through empathy and kindness.'

'Then it is an honor to be compared to one like him. I shall endeavor to teach this school's pokémon with my spoon of love!'

'Haha, you do that, Garp-toria. But remember to make the battles short. We have a lot of students to get through.'

'Yes! And… Who is Garp?'

'Oh… Later. Go beat up the oddish for now…'

That was it. Artoria blurred forward with a sharp battle cry. Her footsteps lacked the cracking sound of Mana Burst, but I made sure to focus our physical conditioning sessions on stamina and speed. None of us liked running suicides, but the results couldn't be denied, especially when compared to a normally sluggish oddish.

"Oddish!" it cried as Artoria beaned it with her spoon. She then scooped the dazed pokémon with her spoon like a soup dumpling and promptly chucked it off the battlefield.

"Oddish is out of bounds! Kirlia is the victor! Rotate!"

That was how we spent our day. We went through two whismur, a taillow, four zigzagoon, and six oddish before my pokémon were too tired to continue. The matches became much more difficult than that first whismur and oddish as each student took careful notes and tried to do something new to counter our fighting styles. After a while, the kids stopped trying to beat us on their own, working together to drag out each battle as long as possible to tire out my pokémon. Jeanne bowed out after five pokémon, leaving eight to Artoria.

"Alright, that's enough," Mr. Thrush said when he saw me wave. "I think both the kirlia and mareep are fully tuckered out."

"Aww, we didn't get to go," one kid said.

"Don't worry, we'll arrange for other trainers. I have you marked down to go next."

"Aww…"

Jeanne and Artoria settled down next to me amidst disappointed groans. "You two did great," I told them, ruffing their wool and hair.

"Mareep," Jeanne said. I wasn't even sure if that was an actual sentence. She seemed content to just lie on my lap and laze around for a bit.

'I could not beat them all,' Artoria told me. The mental voice was accompanied by disappointment in herself.

'You really are your harshest critic,' I replied. 'You battled eight pokémon almost back to back. It's already very impressive.'

'They were not very powerful.'

'True, but quantity is a quality all its own. And some of those pokémon weren't half bad. That taillow gave you some trouble.'

'I think the taillow is one of the starters, my lord. His Quick Attack was what forced me to use Mana Burst.'

'And he kept up even then. You won by outlasting him.'

'I did.'

'See? Some of those pokémon were plenty good. And you lasted long enough to beat eight of them. You did well,' I soothed. I ran a hand down her back and pulled her to my side. 'No shame in losing, only in not learning from your losses.'

'You sound like Lord Jin.'

'Heh, yeah, pops does have a lot of fortune cookie sayings.'

I was drawn out of our conversation when Mr. Thrush walked up to me with an envelope. He held it out to me with a big smile. "That was an impressive showing, Aaron. Thirteen pokémon in a row is no easy feat."

"We have a long way to go," I said, rubbing the back of my head.

"Well, maybe this can help you get there. As promised, 1,300 LC, 100 per pokémon beaten."

"Thanks, Mr. Thrush. A pleasure working with you." For an hour or two of work, it was good money.

"Likewise, kid. I'll be cheering on your circuit."

X

The day of the contest arrived. For once, I didn't wake up with a soggy lamb shank on my face and my pillow drenched with sweat. Jeanne leapt from bed, going zero to hundred like a lightning bolt.

"Mareep!" she cried as she raced around our small room in the pokémon center. "Mareep! Reep!"

"Good morning to you too, Jeanne," I said as I scratched the back of her neck.

I gave her a quick once-over. Her wool was a pristine cream color with zero tangles or discolorations. Knowing how important appearances were, I'd spent hours the night prior going through her wool with a special comb I bought in town. Static was awfully useful in a battle, but it also tended to make little bits of detritus cling to her wool every day.

I held her face in my hands and gave her an affectionate pat. "You look perfect, Jeanne."

"Mareep!"

'Mnnn,' I heard Artoria groan in my mind.

I nudged her back affectionately. 'Good morning, Artoria.'

'Mnnn…'

'Time to wake up. You know this is Jeanne's big day.'

'I will support her,' she swore, 'in a few hours…'

I wondered if I should do anything to rouse her faster, but Jeanne took care of that for me. She hopped onto the bed and made her way to the pillow Artoria was using as her bed. There, she extended a long, pink tongue and licked Artoria from the base of her neck all the way up until she'd rearranged her bangs.

"KIR!" My partner's eyes didn't just open, they bulged out like saucers. She let out a wordless yell of surprise and teleported behind my back. "Kirlia, kir-lia. Liii-kirlia!"

"Mareeee…"

"Kir!"

"Maa?"

"Kirlia!"

I could feel indignation, embarrassment, disgust, and a bit of anger from the bond, but no more than I felt towards Tate when the little brat borrowed my jacket and left it at school. He found it three days later covered in dirt, grass stains, and some suspicious blue stain I still couldn't identify.

Listening to the two yell at each other was like being privy to one half of the conversation, and that only through emotions and charades. Seeing the two bicker like this made me happy. I wanted my team to be like siblings and if there was one truism about siblings it was that no one could piss you off like one. Siblings bickering was as old as time, maybe literally if what I knew about the Primordial Dragons was true.

Still, I didn't want things to sour too much so I stepped in. I placed a comforting hand on Artoria's head and winced as my fingers came back thoroughly slimed. "Okay, enough, you two. Jeanne, licking people awake is not okay."

"Mareeeeep." I glanced at Artoria and she translated dutifully.

'She says her herd used to lick each other all the time. I am not a mareep,' she huffed. 'Ugh, I think I have some half-chewed grass in my hair.'

'Thanks, Artoria. Would you like help washing off?'

'Unnecessary, my lord. I will wash myself.'

She teleported away and I heard the sink in the restroom turn on. I turned back to my mischievous lamb. For all that she seemed innocent, it was all just a façade. She was a genuinely jolly, happy-go-lucky sort, but she also used that to mask how much she enjoys fucking with the two of us.

"You know you shouldn't have done that," I chided.

"Mareep," she bleated, the picture of innocence.

"It was something you did in the herd?"

She nodded. "Maa."

"But you knew you shouldn't do that. Artoria isn't a mareep, Jeanne. If you didn't, you would have done that earlier."

"Maa…"

"Jeanne, pranking people when they wake up is not okay. Most people don't like it, especially people like Artoria who wake up very slowly."

"Maa… reep…"

"You apologize when she comes back, okay?"

She slumped but nodded resignedly. "Mareep…"

"And don't do it again."

"Mareep."

I leaned down conspiratorially. "But between you and me?"

"Maa?"

"It was a little funny," I winked.

"Reep!"

"But you lost your plant jerky privileges today."

"Mareep!"

"Nope. Doesn't matter that it was funny. It was also mean."

"Maa…"

X

The three of us walked into the contest hall at nine-thirty, a full half hour before the contest was scheduled to begin. I'd worn my best for the day, my hammerspace bag letting me keep a few clothes that weren't suited for the rigors of the road. I wore a simple, sky-blue dress shirt that I'd made sure to press free of wrinkles and a set of blue-gray slacks. Both the left breast of my shirt and the left pant leg of my slacks had the sigil for Mossdeep Gym and the Fulan-Summers family on it in purple and bronze. Mom had asked that I start wearing things like this whenever I entered an official competition.

I wished I could say the hall was packed, but I was no liar. This was an amateur's contest. Most if not all coordinators here will have won a single ribbon, three or four at most, and that won over several years by hobbyists instead of any serious run at the Grand Coordinator title. As far as the public was concerned, no one worth knowing was competing here so the turnout was as mediocre as the competitors. It also meant there weren't many around to recognize the family emblem.

They were right about most of us.

I made a beeline to the exception, a tall woman with salmon-pink hair who leaned casually against one wall. At her side was a slowbro with a purple cape draped around its shoulders. The pokémon stood a little over four feet tall, shorter than average. But perhaps that size meant it was more nimble? That wasn't how psychic powers worked, but… shonen logic. Size was directly and inversely correlated with agility.

I shrugged. It didn't matter. I'd find out soon enough.

"Solidad," I called. "Is that your slowbro?"

She turned and gave me a welcoming smile. "Hello, Aaron, right? Yes, this is Martin. He evolved only three weeks ago and he's ready to get back onto the circuit so I thought this contest would be the perfect way to introduce ourselves to Hoenn."

"Nice, I thought he looked a bit smaller. That must be because of the recent evolution."

"Yes, a slowbro will grow slowly but consistently for about six or seven years after evolution until it reaches its maximum size."

I nodded along. It was true, but that growth rate varied somewhat between slowbro found in different regions. Those found in Kanto and Johto grew more slowly but reached bigger sizes on average than those found in Kalos for example. And the Galarian subspecies were a whole different ball game with their variant evolutions. "Martin looks very healthy. You must have spent a lot of time researching his diet."

"Oh, thank you. Do you have a slowbro? Or a slowpoke perhaps? You seem to have an interest in them."

"Psychics in general interest me, though I'm not limiting myself to just the single type." I gestured to the logo on my chest. "The local psychic gym is my sponsor."

"Ooh, nice. I might have to pick your brain about them in the future then. Your mareep looks very healthy too."

"That's because I spent a few hours cleaning her fur last night," I told her. "Trust me, she's usually not this clean."

Jeanne protested by getting on her hind legs and nibbling my fingers. "Mareep!"

"Ow!"

"Hehe, a lady has her pride, Aaron," Solidad laughed. She reached down and gave Jeanne a gentle scratch between the horns. "But are you and your mareep going to compete like that?"

"Hmm? What's wrong with her?"

"Nothing, but a lot of trainers like to dress up their pokémon," she said, pointing to Martin's cloak. "It's not necessary, but it can help if the costume fits the theme of the act."

"Ah, I see. I guess I was so focused on the routine that I didn't think about a costume."

Jeanne looked up at me with wide eyes. "Mareep?"

"Sorry, girl. It's too late now. Next time?"

"Ree…"

Solidad looked at us and dug in her purse for a moment. "Here, how about this?" In her hand was a purple bow with a pair of thin braids that ended in white pompoms. She knelt down and tied it around Jeanne's neck. "I bought it because I thought it'd go well with Martin's cape but decided against it. Would you like to have it? The color is close enough to your emblem's that it should fit."

I looked at my pokémon before taking out my PokéNav and snapping off a picture. I turned it around so Jeanne could see the screen. "Here, girl, what do you think? Like it?"

"Mareep? Mareep!" she bleated out a cheer before running around in circles.

"Thank you, I think she really likes it."

"You're welcome. Coordinators should look after each other. It's my pleasure to help."

Soon enough, we were called into the waiting room so one of the contest hall workers could go over the orientation with us. We were all asked to return our pokémon, much to Artoria and Jeanne's grumbling.

The attendant wore a maroon pencil skirt and white collared shirt with a vest that matched her skirt. On the breast of her vest was the contest hall logo. She clapped her hands to get everyone's attention.

"Right then, let's begin. Coordinators, as I know that several of you are new to the scene, I will go over the rules with you. The contest is divided into two rounds: appeal and battle. During the appeal round, every coordinator and partner will have the chance to go up on stage for five minutes to impress the judges. You can do anything you want, but know that the judges are scoring for beauty, coordination, skill, and of course, audience appeal. Each judge has ten points to award for a total maximum of thirty.

"There are fifteen coordinators today. Of you all, only the top four will move on to the battle round. In the battle round, two coordinators will face off against each other. Here, you will be scored on your ability to gracefully control the pace of combat. It is possible to win the battle but still lose the round. Any questions?"

One of the other coordinators, a girl with a pikachu on her shoulder, raised her hand. "Yes Miss, how are we deciding who goes first for the appeals round?"

"The most veteran coordinators sorted by number of ribbons and years active will be permitted to go first."

There were quite a few grumbles at that. It meant Solidad was naturally first, but I recognized it for what it was: The contest circuit clearly didn't mind placing a handicap on veterans. It was natural for a person to fixate on what they saw last and if there should be a tie in points, the one who went earlier would likely fade from memory.

After a few more questions, we ran out of time and another attendant called Solidad to the stage.

"Wish me luck," she said.

"Nope. No luck. Skill. Go kill them all."

"Pfftt, you have a way with words."

"Yup. Have fun," I waved her on.

Author's Note

Wool is an excellent sound dampener. It's visco-elastic properties help convert sound to heat dispersing noise. And no, I didn't know what that meant until I looked it up. More you know…

Did you know an oddish has a better base stat total than a kirlia? It's true, and not just by a little, a full 42 points. Yeah, it isn't important, but I just thought it was super weird.

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.