Soup 3.6

Aaron Fulan

Petalburg Woods, Hoenn Region

Durvasa watched as Artoria and I slowly moved through our katas, mirroring one another in perfect harmony. His eyes were narrowed in annoyance at the seemingly languid pace, but also in contemplation.

And wasn't that an unusual sight, a contemplative mankey.

Last night was comfortable enough. Sure, there was a hole in my sleeping bag, but any evening chill was warded off by cuddling with Jeanne.

No, the drama came in the morning.

Durvasa saw Artoria and I doing our basic stretches and laughed because it seemed so unnecessary. My starter tried to explain the concepts to him, but he mocked her, saying how he pitied her because she wasn't born with a body overflowing with vitality.

Judging by the flares of irritation, him acting up was as much a way to establish himself in his new "troupe" as it was an attempt to redeem himself for yesterday's loss. His mocking got annoying enough for Artoria to challenge him to a duel, though admittedly, she'd never been all that great at handling mockery.

My third pokemon had apparently been waiting for this and demanded a duel of purely physical combat ability, saying that a warrior shouldn't need psychic powers to be dangerous. Or, that was the gist; I understood that I was getting Artoria's half of the story, which naturally came with her biases.

I sat out.

I'd heard from mom that it was good to let team dynamics play out sometimes. There was a time when her alakazam, Alfonse, had challenged Quinn, believing that because he was smarter, he ought to be mom's second. Quinn accepted, slapped him around with Shadow Sneak before Alfonse could implement any of his many plans, and tied his mustache into knots until the then-kadabra admitted the gallade's superiority.

Alice? The sadistic bitch probably made popcorn.

As I saw it, this was much the same. Not all pokemon would question a starter's authority on the team. Hell, some trainers didn't really make the distinction between different pokemon and went out of their way to not grant any sort of authority to any particular pokemon. It all depended on the specific pokemon and tempers in question.

For example, a trainer who started with an abra from mom would likely find it a challenge to get their starter to invest in anything beyond itself. Leadership roles were kind of hard to fulfill when you slept for eighteen hours a day after all. On the other hand, a drowzee as a starter could very well seize too much authority, nudging and manipulating its teammates to suit itself, sometimes without the trainer's consent or knowledge.

So far, I'd lucked out in that regard. Artoria could be overzealous at times, but there was no denying that her heart was in the right place. She also put so much emphasis on the knightly virtues that I could easily rebuke her simply by pointing out ways she erred. Not all pokemon were so open to criticism.

And Arceus knew Jeanne never cared enough to challenge Artoria. Lick her and generally get on her nerves, yes. Mock her until she blew up, no. Jeanne was the performer, and though their personalities sometimes seemed like night and day, even Artoria could not deny that Jeanne gave her all and more to improving herself. There was mutual respect there.

Then there was Durvasa. I should have expected a challenge when I picked up a mankey. They were heavily territorial and prone to infighting. Not even for any specific thing necessarily either, fighting was just part of their societal dynamic. Seeing how this was Artoria's first real hurdle as my self-proclaimed right hand, I let her deal with this duel as she pleased.

The result was… predictable.

Artoria never once resorted to overt uses of psychic power, not even Mana Burst for mobility. Instead, she slapped him around with her spoon all morning, catching him with the head of the spoon and redirecting his momentum straight into the ground. Repeatedly.

In game terms, Durvasa hit himself with recoil.

It didn't matter how robust a fighting type's body was. In the end, the ground won.

Eventually, Artoria's indignation made way for boredom and she drew a circle around her with her spoon, telling him that she'd concede defeat if he could move her from that spot within an hour.

He could not.

The problem wasn't just that she was an exceptionally well-trained kendoka by this point and that Durvasa, for all his rage-fueled enthusiasm, wasn't terribly skilled. No, the problem was that technically, she was using psychic power, albeit not in a way she could actively turn off.

She was a kirlia, some of the most capable natural empaths in the world. She was also at the stage of her life when most kirlia, herself included, began to hone their precognitive abilities. She'd started training them on the way to Verdanturf immediately after her evolution against Wattson's electrike and her efforts were clearly paying off.

Poor Durvasa wasn't facing a more skilled martial artist. He was facing a more skilled, empathic, precognitive martial artist. Without a small horde at his back, he had no chance in hell of actually touching her.

It was amusing at first, but then became kind of sad towards the end. It didn't help that Jeanne started to cheer Durvasa on, glowing tail-bulb in lieu of pom-poms and all.

Ultimately, Artoria didn't humiliate him for the sake of it, though I didn't doubt there was some personal pleasure in it too; she spent the next several hours while we walked lecturing Durvasa on everything I'd taught her about physical conditioning, discipline, technique fundamentals, and the importance of repetition.

Which led to the current scene.

He watched Artoria and I practice in silence for several minutes before standing and copying us. He picked up a stick and aped Artoria's stance.

I stopped and knelt to face him. "Durvasa, do you want to use a sword?"

"Mankey," he said with a careless shrug. He swung the stick around with one hand and I had to stifle a laugh. Durvasa was like a child who kept losing to his big sister and copied her in whatever she did to try and beat her.

Pointless, there was more to it than just having a weapon, but it at least showed a genuine desire to improve.

I could work with that.

Gently, I caught the stick at the base of his paw and twisted against his wrist, making him yelp at the surprise sensation of his muscles cramping and drop his "sword." I looked him over. "Durvasa, you know you're not going to improve like that, right?"

"Man, mankey."

'How can I achieve enlightenment if I cannot beat the spoon-pixie?' Artoria helpfully translated, shooting a dirty look at her new teammate for the nickname.

"You're a fighting type. You already have a strong body. Do you really think that a stick is going to stand up to the kind of force you can put into your attacks? No, right? As for Artoria, she uses that spoon to channel her psychic power. Yeah, she's worked hard to be as skilled as she is now, but the spoon is also a way for her to use psychic attacks in close combat. You and she are not the same. You won't improve just by trying to copy her."

"Mankeee…" he glared at me mulishly.

'He wishes to know how to become stronger quickly.'

"Even if Artoria and I taught you the sword, is that how you want to be stronger? By walking the same path she does? If you do that, you'll only ever be chasing her shadow. You want to catch up to her one day, right?"

"Key."

"Well, then you need to do it on your terms, not hers. For starters, think about your body type. You have very broad shoulders, but your arms are spread apart enough that you would have trouble grasping a sword with both hands in the traditional kendo style. If you are looking to evolve, you're going to have to find your own style that suits the body you have. How about this? I'm going to teach you some of the things I know about fighting without a weapon. I'm a swordsman first, but I do know a reasonable amount about martial arts purely by osmosis."

"Mankey."

He stared at me blankly, not quite believing that I could help him. He wasn't wrong. I had a few boxer friends in my old life, and one who was a fourth-dan karateka, but that was hardly the same thing as being an expert myself.

But that didn't mean I was ignorant either. I knew what a good punch looked like. I knew what a mankey should learn as one grew. I understood how to condition the body. For now, that'd be enough.

I held out a hand. "How about this, Durvasa? Artoria's been with me for almost four months now. Just one. I only want one month of your time. Thirty days. In those thirty days, you're going to do everything I tell you and I'm going to train you into the ground my way. Then, if you don't think you've gotten any stronger, I'll teach you to use the sword. Or I'll bring you back here and release you. Whichever you want."

"Mankey. Mankey?" he eyed me critically.

'He wishes to know if you think he can catch up to me in a month. Arrogant. There is no substitute for time and experience; a month is not enough,' Artoria huffed in my mind as she swung her spoon. She'd transitioned to cloaking her weapon in ghost type aura as she went through her katas.

"No, not a chance in hell," I told him truthfully. Then, I placed a hand on his head, palming it like a basketball before he could blow up. "Why? Because Artoria isn't standing still. She's always moving forward and so is Jeanne. By the time you're good enough to beat her as she is today, she'll be much stronger too. That's what you should want. If she stood still for you, she wouldn't be worth chasing, right?"

"Man…" he muttered, simmering down a bit.

"What I can promise is that you'll be able to force her to use her psychic power. She'll have to take you seriously, not just slap you out of the air. It's not where you want to be, but it's a big milestone. Deal?"

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"Mankey," he nodded.

I took his paw in my hand and shook it. "Alright, it's a promise between men. For one month, you're going to do everything I say, no matter what. In exchange, I'll make you strong, and hopefully, teach you more about yourself."

"Mankey."

And that was how I got my little ball of rage to obey me. The first thing I did in designing his training plan was, of course, to flip open the pokedex:

Mankey, the "pig monkey" pokemon. It is a small, agile simian pokemon that commonly dwells in forest treetops in large colonies. It has an especially prominent adrenal gland, which is why it feels emotions such as anger, agitation, and excitement much more strongly than humans or most other pokemon. Due to its irascible nature, it is recommended that new trainers steer clear.

This mankey is male and knows the moves Encore, Leer, Focus Energy, Scratch, Fury Swipes, and Covet.

I let out a low whistle. "Okay, first things first, I need to teach you at least one fighting type move. You can't rely on the strength of your own body forever. Eventually, technique's gotta play into things if you want to get strong."

"Mankey," he replied, folding his arms over his fuzzy chest with an expectant nod.

"Kirlia," Artoria grumbled. She held up her spoon threateningly, getting Durvasa to bare his teeth. I thought they'd come to blows again, but Artoria nodded, seemingly satisfied. "Kir."

"Alright," I clapped. "Let's get to work. For starters, you're going to work on physical conditioning. I had Artoria and Jeanne do this and now so will you."

"Mankey," he nodded obediently. He seemed to be taking our bet to heart.

My plan was simple. I dug around in my bag for the biggest collapsible pot I could find, an eight quart steel pot made by Devon Corp, and filled it with dirt and rocks. I then filled it with water to pat down the material and fill the gaps before clamping the pressure seal lid. Taking some survivalist rope, I fashioned a harness around the pot and strapped it to Durvasa's back.

"Heavy?" I asked teasingly.

"Man! Mankey!" he shouted, the weight seemingly making him somehow more excitable. He jumped up and down before doing a flip, just to prove he could.

"It's probably thirty or forty pounds. I know it's not a lot for a fighting type, but don't worry, it'll feel much heavier after a few hours."

"Mankey-key."

"Alright, so here's what you're going to do, Durvasa. You're going to wear this all day, every day until I can get you a better set of restraints in Oldale. While we walk, you're going to use Focus Energy. Constantly. I don't just want it to be a move for you; I want it to be your natural state of existence. If I'm right, controlling your anger is going to start with building greater discipline and awareness of your surroundings. Until then, that's what you're going to practice, got it?"

"Mankey," he said with a resolute nod.

I'd heard what the dex was telling me: A mankey's biggest strength and weakness was the same, its temper. This exercise wasn't strictly about physical conditioning, though that was nice too; it was about honing Durvasa, body and mind. I hoped that by instilling in him the discipline needed to maintain Focus Energy twenty-four seven, I could also help him harness that simmering anger more effectively.

And so we set off for Oldale, training along the way. During breaks, I had him practice karate chops, ten with each arm per set, until he could turn the motion into a proper, aura-filled move. It didn't take long to see results, Durvasa's natural talent and typing coming through within only two sessions. I kept him at it regardless. After all, it wasn't enough to be able to do something; a fighter needed to move with near instinctive grace.

To my right, Artoria walked with her mega stone in hand, still trying to use it to accustom herself to fairy type energy. She could conjure the elusive, pink aura in her hands now, cloaking her arms with it, but shaping it into anything usable was still far beyond her. As for learning actual moves, most fairy type moves on record were ranged and the less said about Draining Kiss, the better.

I told her once over break to "pucker up" and channel fae energy to her lips. Draining Kiss didn't need to be a long-ranged attack after all. The look of pure mortification on her face made me decide to never mention the move again. I did stealthily sneak a picture for the twins and Lisia though.

No, we'ld just have to develop our own fairy type move… as usual…

To my left, Jeanne juggled Electro Balls by bouncing them off her paws and tail. She'd moved on to doing that while maintaining Agility. The pinkish violet aura constantly sputtered out whenever she became too focused on her juggling but I could see her getting better.

When we stopped, just for fun, I had her try our old contest routine. She was able to perform it flawlessly, having far outgrown the level of technique needed to do so. I'd remember the way her face lit up for a long time. Her joy at having passed the benchmark she'd set for herself was contagious and even Durvasa took time out of his moving meditation to congratulate her. In irate grunts followed by what I presume was "Shut the fuck up so I can focus," but congratulate her he did.

Progress.

X

Oldale Town, Hoenn Region

Oldale was even more rural than Verdanturf, but in a distinctly different way. Where Verdanturf was a rainbow paradise of flower gardens and berry orchards, Oldale reminded me much more of classic agrarian towns of my old world.

Sandwiched between the coast and the woods, it was a town of low hills and green meadows. There was a small town center with a bank, pokemon center, motel, town hall, sheriff's office, and a few other important services, but it was clear that most of the community made their livelihoods through farming. According to the guidebook, the town's primary exports were grapes, not to be confused with grepa berries, and alfalfa, which was used for hay on ranches. Apparently, Oldale had several craft wineries that came highly recommended.

'Something you are not old enough to savor, my lord,' Artoria drawled.

'I know, Artoria. Besides, I don't trust mom not to somehow find out and make my life miserable.'

'Lady Sharon is the paragon of discipline.'

'Heh, that's one way to put it.'

The four of us walked until we came across the town's welcome sign.

"Welcome to Oldale Town!" it said, then right below that was the tagline, 'Where things start off scarce."

'That is an odd thing to say about your own town,' Artoria mused.

'I remember why. Mom made me memorize the history of all the different settlements. The slogan sounds silly, but it's likely a callback to how the town got its start,' I told her. 'The town was originally established during the Fragmentation Era by refugees from Petalburg who didn't want anything to do with the fighting. Those humans and pokemon abandoned everything to start anew and lived off the land, probably not unlike what most of the town does for a living.'

'Why did they leave Petalburg? Even if they did not want to fight, could they not have contributed in other ways? Peace is a noble goal, but their actions sound more like cowardice.'

'This was early on in the Fragmentation Era and the Wars of Conquest. Petalburg was a coastal power but lacked the population to be a credible threat to Rustboro. When Rustboro decided to expand, Petalburg fought but ultimately surrendered and became a vassal state. Rather than burn the city to the ground, Rustboro's leadership decided that the best way to absorb Petalburg was to conscript men and pokemon into their armies.

'Obviously, not everyone stuck around. Those who left Petalburg during that time started Oldale from nothing, hence the slogan, "Where things start off scarce." Interestingly enough, it's still not clear whether Oldale's first residents were truly just refugees and farmers or were the first recorded terrorists in history, the Daggers.'

'Terrorists, my lord?'

'Yup. Keep in mind that this was way back in 132 BF, so more than a full century before Eva Mikuri's nonsense. Rustboro had a lot of early success in the Wars of Conquest because they have a geographically advantageous location. Coastal power, surrounded by natural fortifications,a long history of friendship with local rock types, you name it. But that early success meant they were spread thin. Their habit of forcibly conscripting men and pokemon from settlements they conquered began as a way to bolster their numbers. That was well and good for the short-term, but you can't step on people like that for so long without brewing up a whole lot of bitterness and resentment.'

'Ah,' Artoria hummed, 'I think I begin to understand.'

'Mhmm. The Daggers were a shadowy organization dedicated to the fall of Rustboro by any means necessary. Which chiefly meant assassinating their ruling council, generals, or anyone else of importance. No one's quite sure who made up the Daggers or where they were based since Rustboro pissed off so many of their neighbors, but Oldale definitely had a motive to help them out under the table.'

'These Daggers sound… dishonorable.'

'They were,' I didn't deny it. 'They were murderers, thieves, arsonists, kidnappers, and a whole lot worse. They did awful, inhumane things to people and pokemon in the name of revenge or independence. But remember, Artoria, they saw themselves as the good guys.'

'How? How could any of that be good?'

'They considered themselves freedom fighters. I don't doubt that in whatever community sheltered them, they were seen as heroes and potential liberators, avengers whose acts allowed their loved ones to rest in peace.'

'That… That is wrong…'

'War has no winners. But yes, that's why the slogan exists. Oldale started from those who had nothing. Rather than seek wealth or power, they sought to live in peace, much as you see now.'

'I see…'

'So tell me, Artoria, were the founders of Oldale cowards?'

'I… I want to say yes. A knight should protect. But they were not knights. They chose to leave rather than see their children conscripted. Is there wisdom in cowardice?'

'You know what I think?'

'What do you think, my lord?'

'I think they were protecting something in their own way. They weren't strong so they made the choice that preserves their way of life, the choice that protects their children, and the choice that kept them from descending into the cyclical bloodbath that the Wars of Conquest became. You can call them cowards, maybe you're right, but ultimately, I think history proves that they were wiser than anyone else.'

'Perhaps you are right.'

I chuckled and ruffled her hair. I was glad that my hours slaving over textbooks in the family library could help my starter. She was a knight through and through, and that came with a black and white mentality. By teaching her the history of our world, and sometimes my old world, I hoped to break her from that way of thinking. The world was seldom so black and white after all; it was often a chaotic kaleidoscope of grays.

By contrast, Jeanne was as easy to please as ever. She hummed to herself as she skipped along before reaching down to pick a dandelion off the side of the road. She showed me the vibrant, yellow flower and with a bleating cry, stuffed it into her mouth to be mashed into green paste. Not for the first time, I wondered if grass pokemon saw her the same way she saw ursaring and mightyena.

Durvasa was even more excitable now that we'd excited the forest. Everything was so new to him, from the fields of alfalfa to a tauros-drawn cart rolling lazily along the road. He pointed at every new thing with the curiosity of a small child who'd only realized just now how wide the world could be.

"Man! Mankey!" he cried shrilly, gesturing towards a pelipper-shaped wind vane.

"That's a wind vane, bud. Humans use it to tell us what direction the wind is blowing."

"Mankey," he snorted. "Man-mankey. Key."

'He says humans must be stupid,' Artoria dutifully translated with a frown. '"Why would humans need something to tell which direction the wind is blowing? Just stick your hand into the air like a normal pokemon."'

"Hahahaha, you're not wrong, Durvasa," I said with a laugh. To be fair, I didn't know why they were so common either. "It seems useless to you and me, but I'm sure they have their reasons for keeping one up."

"Mankey?" he asked, this time pointing towards a large, red wooden structure.

'"Which troupe-leader lives there? He must be strong to have a big nest."'

"That's a barn. It's for those tauros you saw earlier. Several tauros live there at once and there is an upstairs storage area for hay a lot of times. That's why the building is so big. Strong humans don't always have big houses."

"Man?"

'Do you not have a big house, my lord? Lady Sharon is the strongest human I know,' Artoria said. She then chirped something back to Durvasa, likely telling him what the Mossdeep Gym was like.

"I suppose, yeah. Strong humans sometimes have big houses, but not always. It's complicated. Not all humans value strength and not all humans measure strength the same way."

"Mankey. Mankey. Man," Durvasa said, shrugging dismissively.

'He says humans are a confusing mess.'

"That we are, Durvasa, that we are."

Author's Note

Chattering with teeth bared is a way of showing submission among baboons. As is the presentation of gifts.

And wow. I really didn't expect the forest to take up so much time, but here we are. Six chapters (seven or eight if you count the tail end of the previous arc), and we're finally here in Oldale.

Yay, more fake history. Also, have a history fact (definitely not running out of animal facts, promise): The Daggers were a real group. Or rather, the Dagger-Men, also called the Sicarii in Hebrew. They were a Jewish nationalist group who wanted independence from Rome by any means necessary and best known for killing Roman officials sent to Israel. The Sicarii are considered to be the oldest example of politically motivated terrorism, or at least among the oldest we have on record. For you FGO fans, they predate the Hashashin by centuries.

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.