Aaron’s Pokemon

- Artoria (Kirlia)

- Jeanne (Flaaffy)

- Durvasa (Mankey)

- Scotch (Egg)

- Magellan (Chikorita)

Fish 4.17

Aaron Fulan

Rustboro City

Unbelievable.

Un-fucking-believable.

Lisia was an utterly unreasonable human being. Her sheer energy, that stage presence, it was all so far beyond what I would have expected of a rookie coordinator that I didn't even know where to start. Everything about her performance, from her outfit to the song she chose meshed flawlessly to shine a spotlight on her swablu.

I could only imagine this was how in-game NPCs felt when the player character stomped through their gyms with a single bidoof.

Fairy aura wasn't easy to work with; that much, I knew from personal experience. I would assume draconic aura was equally temperamental. Could I do what she did? Could I blend the two masterfully into a single construct? Could I add a third type as she had?

The answer was a resounding “fuck no.”

I wondered if this was the difference between a swordsman and an artist. Where I favored discipline, repetition, and structure in my training, she favored vision and spontaneity, allowing herself to be led by whimsy until a bolt of inspiration struck her. Maybe her mentality allowed her to resonate with the fairy type. Maybe her training under Wallace was far more effective than anyone had expected.

Or maybe she was just that much of a prodigy.

Whatever it was, I had a new measuring stick when it came to contests. Until now, Solidad and her slowbro had been the bar I compared myself to. She was skilled. She was a veteran who’d traveled through multiple regions already. She had an evolved pokemon who boasted both power and finesse.

And Lisia's performance completely blew hers out of the water. In both aesthetics and technical skill, there was no comparison.

The judges gave her a twenty-nine out of thirty. It was higher than any other score I’d seen, in this and every contest prior, but they’d found something to nitpick anyway. That was their job, I supposed.

Ali’s Dragon Breath, though impressive for a young swablu, had lacked true mastery. His breath was short and left him obviously exhausted. Not to mention, the move had taken a second too long to charge, something that became obvious because the move didn’t line up with the final beats of the song.

“Is it just me or are they looking for anything to strike points for?” I muttered.

“Obviously. Lisia’s performance was flawless,” Chaz said. He shone with admiration and envy in equal measure.

“Not flawless maybe, but definitely excusable for a normal-rank contest.”

“Agreed. Maybe that’s what they’re trying to imply: No one is perfect. We all have ways we can better ourselves.”

“Maybe. Norman offered Artoria and I a stronger pokemon than the second badge required as well. If she’s being graded with higher expectations, I guess some traditions are universal.”

“Of course, everything comes back to battling with you, brute,” he said, though there was no heat to it.

“Blonde ponce,” I shot back, more for the sake of it than because I was actually offended.

He was right, after all. I was indeed a sword-idiot.

I looked around at the other coordinators and snickered. Everyone here fell into one of two camps: One type of person, the majority of people here, felt disheartened by Lisia’s performance. She was guaranteed to advance to the battle round, and with a significant lead in points. Just seeing her mastery had been enough to cow them and already, some were muttering about how there was always next month.

The other type of person was thrilled, eager to test themselves against the Grand Coordinator’s niece. It wasn’t over yet. There were three other slots. Maybe she wasn’t as good at contest battling as she was at appeals. Maybe the experience alone would be worthwhile. Or, if they had a pokemon with an advantage against a swablu, they could bring it out.

I immediately wrote off everyone in the first camp. They weren’t competition anymore, not after Lisia so thoroughly shattered their spirits. The hilarious part of it all was that Lisia didn’t think this way at all. She was only focused on putting on the best show she could.

Soon, it was time for Chaz to go on stage. His routine was clean, polished in a way that most others weren’t. I was wondering how he planned to compete in a contest with a machop of all pokemon. They weren’t known for large natural movepools. The answer was simple: TMs.

Macherie the machop was loaded up on TMs. She used a combination of Bulldoze and Rock Tomb to alter the stage around her trainer, raising up a platform that resembled a craggy cliff. She then built walls around him with Rock Tomb and Light Screen, using the pillars of stone to anchor the psychic projections temporarily. When she was finished, Chaz sat atop a throne of polished stone, the relief of a castle of light molded around him.

It wasn’t a fully detailed castle of course, more of a rough design. A machop simply lacked the psychic finesse to create such a thing. For that matter, even Artoria wouldn’t be able to manage it, though perhaps a throne or crown of light might be more feasible. He made up for that with the crags made by Rock Tomb, creating the impression of a scenic, mountain vista.

In a vacuum, the performance was great. It showed off the machop’s skill with atypical moves, looked suitably grandiose, and wasn’t something most people would have seen before. However, the construct Macherie made got compared to Ali’s and didn’t score as highly as Chaz likely hoped. Still, with twenty-four points, he was comfortably second place.

Then it was my turn.

X

I paid the emcee no mind as she announced my entrance. Having done this twice before, the butterflies didn’t bother me much though they fluttered in my stomach still.

My entrance was lacking in energy compared to Lisia’s, but not in focused intent. I strolled past the trainer box, where most typically chose to stand, and right up to the audience, as close as I could stand without falling off the stage. Neither Chaz nor Lisia remained in that box and nor would I. I bowed politely at the waist, one hand over my heart.

Wearing a suit with my sword at my hip and Lisia’s bandana accented over my neck, I must have struck an unusual sight. Chaz had teased me for bringing my sword along, saying I treated it like a security blanket.

He wasn’t wrong; ever since I began training Artoria, I felt naked without one, whether a bokken or dull steel didn’t matter. Perhaps Artoria’s mentality was bleeding through, just as I was influencing her.

I knew I looked strange, but that was fine. It was better to be a little unusual rather than completely forgettable.

I turned my back to the crowd and released Jeanne so she stood center stage. I couldn’t see the audience, but that was what I wanted. I was a conductor now, and to a conductor, the orchestra was the only audience that mattered.

I held out my right arm for silence. Then, as I brought it down, Jeanne stamped her foot, causing a circle of electricity to expand around her. With Electric Terrain set, the stage lights seemed to fade away before the brightness of Jeanne’s technique. I snapped my finger and Jeanne conjured two orbs in her hand, Electro Ball and a charged Cotton Spore. Electricity arced between the two, sometimes jumping between her horns, creating sharp, crackling sounds.

Then, with her makeshift thoramin in hand, she began to play. Mary Had a Little Lamb echoed throughout the chamber. The notes weren’t pure like from a piano, but her instrument of choice had an allure all its own; it even came with its own light show.

I had a shit-eating grin on my face as Jeanne played her little heart out. I could tell the exact moment people realized what we were doing. Giggles, snorts of laughter, and murmurs of disbelief sounded behind me. That was the joke: I was dressed in a suit, like a proper conductor, but here was a lamb, playing a nursery rhyme about another lamb, and doing it in the most unorthodox way possible. The best jokes were ones that managed expectations after all.

When the first round ended, I raised my left hand. I brought it down in a chop, causing Jeanne to do the same with her tail.

There was a bright shower of sparks and a dull, staticky thump as her tail-bulb met the Electric Terrain. It sounded a little like the thumping of a mic that some people did to grab attention. I brought my hand up and down in a simple but appealing pattern, adding steady percussion to this round.

The brevity of the song played to our advantage here. Neither Jeanne nor I were great musicians and we didn’t have the years of practice to make up for our lack of genius talent. As novel as this must have been to the judges, they would have grown tired of the performance had we picked a longer song. It was best not to overstay our welcome.

At the close of the song, Jeanne, who’d been swaying and tossing her “instruments” up and down, seemingly tripped over her own feet. With a bleat of faux surprise, she hurled the Electro Ball at me, and in turn the audience. Gasps of shock and worry filled the room as the orb of condensed lightning careened towards my head.

Then, before it could impact against the psychic barriers, I took a half-step forward and cut it out of the air with a perfect iaido draw. The orb of electricity sent an unpleasant tingle up my arm that I ignored with practiced ease. Twin showers of golden sparks flew around me, briefly framing my form.

Turning, I sheathed my sword calmly and bowed to the audience as Jeanne’s “trip” became a controlled roll forward. She joined me in the second bow as the last notes of the children’s song faded with the sparks of her “attack.”

“That was certainly the most… unorthodox… performance we’ve had today,” began one judge. She was a senior gym trainer from Rustboro, here to represent the League. The others were a contest veteran who often competed at the ultra-rank and the president of the local chapter of the pokemon fanclub. “I’ve never heard of anyone playing music like that before. Care to tell us about it, Mr. Fulan?”

I was being asked to elaborate on my performance. I took that as a good sign. Some coordinators were, but most were only offered token recognition. “Of course. The idea comes from something called a thoramin, an instrument made by using tesla coils to generate electricity, and then converting specific frequencies to sound. I discovered that Jeanne could do something similar and we’ve been practicing since.”

“Why a children’s song of all things? Surely, there are better options out there for a live performance,” the fanclub president said.

“There are, but truthfully? Jeanne is a pokemon who loves being whimsical. Her childlike wonder and delight are some of her best qualities. I didn’t feel that the ambiance of a formal orchestra suited us. Instead, we’re much better suited for something a little more fun, a little more… dynamic.”

“Well, you’ve certainly done that, young man. I was wondering what you were going to do with a sword. I’m still not sure it fits well with your overall theme.”

The final judge, a veteran coordinator, looked like he wasn’t sure if he should scold me or praise me. “It came out of left field. Sure, you had the sword on you the whole time, but I don’t think anyone expected that. That’s both a good and bad thing.

“On one hand, it was a great way to–heh–cut the performance short. Otherwise, I don’t think we would have enjoyed sitting through five minutes of you repeating the same tune. It was eye-catching and showed off the trust you have in your pokemon and the incredible control your flaaffy possesses to not hurt you accidentally.

“On the other hand, it had nothing to do with the rest of your performance. I would also highly advise against anything that even appears to endanger your own audience. Yes, the barriers are active, but such performances tend to have some extremely mixed responses.”

“Yes, sir, thank you for your advice.”

“All told, that’s an eight from me. Novel, creative, and with a lot of potential for more.”

“Agreed,” the gym trainer said. “I appreciate how technical the show was. Electricity is extremely dangerous to humans and your confidence suggests the kind of training and dedication we encourage here in Rustboro. Eight as well.”

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

The fanclub president shook his head and held out a seven. “I don’t know, you two. I agree with everything you both said, but it does lack a bit of the pizazz of some of the other performances we’ve seen. I’m taking a point off for the thematic mismatch anyway.”

I bowed my head in acknowledgement. He was, unfortunately, not wrong. I needed a showstopper to cut the performance before my five minutes were up, but I wasn’t good enough to cut electric attacks out of the air for a full, choreographed performance. Let them think it was done to highlight Jeanne’s control.

X

“Aaron! Jeanne! That was awesome!” Lisia squealed as she gave me a quick hug. She then knelt and buried her face in Jeanne’s neck. She held up a hand towards me expectantly.

“What?”

“Gimme.”

“Give you what, Lisia? We use words here.”

“Comb. Treats. Everything I need to pamper this cutie, duh.”

I rolled my eyes. She’d really taken a liking to Jeanne over the past few days. And Artoria too, but my starter wasn’t nearly so accommodating when it came to cuddles. I supposed Jeanne did deserve her moment.

I gave her Jeanne’s grooming kit and took a seat next to her to await the results. Lisia came in first of course. Then Chaz with twenty-four points, putting me and some woman named Janet at third with twenty-three points apiece. I would be battling Chaz in the semi-finals and Lisia in the finals.

That was fine by me; Chaz needed a bit of humbling and battles were my domain. Really, who built a castle and placed himself on the throne?

“I won,” Chaz said with a smug grin.

“Did you? Because I’m pretty sure Lisia kicked both our asses,” I replied with an arched brow.

“Between you and me, I won.”

“It’s not a contes-competition,” Lisia corrected herself and sighed. On top of her head, Ali mirrored his mistress.

“Maybe not when you’re so far above everyone else. We must all look like amateurs to you.”

“I don’t think of myself that way, Chaz. And we are amateurs, all of us. None of us do this professionally yet.”

“Right. It’s all about making people smile with you,” I said. “You do have a big advantage in the battle round though, what with having more points to lose.”

“That’s true. But it’s still not a competition.”

“Of course not, Lisia.”

“If it were,” she said slyly, “I’d win so you boys can stop bickering.”

“Oh? Those are fightin’ words.”

“I won’t go easy on you, even if you’re my f-friend,” Chaz added. The boy couldn’t get more obvious if he bought her roses and a ring.

Lisia rolled her eyes and pulled Jeanne closer. “Boys, right, Jeanne?”

Jeanne, through her blissed out haze, bleated out affirmation for the giver of cuddles. “Flaaf.”

“Hey now, I’m your trainer. You’re supposed to be on my side,” I complained, jabbing a finger into Jeanne’s fluffy side.

“Flaaf. Flaaffy-flaaf. Flaa…”

Lisia giggled and dug around in her bag before pulling out a pokeblock. Pecha, it looked like. “Here, Jeanne. A treat for being more sensible than your trainer.”

“Flaaffy!”

I could have stopped it. Then again, I did promise Lisia a first-hand account of the intricacies of ovine biology all those weeks ago. So, I leaned back and let Jeanne’s enthusiasm take hold.

My little lamb hopped onto Lisia’s lap and hugged the pop idol with a cheerful bleat. She leaned forward, and with a devious grin, licked her from chin to forehead. I doubted Lisia’s foundation tasted very good, but that was a secondary concern for Jeanne.

The first, of course, was getting a reaction from her new cuddles-dispenser.

“Eewww!” Lisia squealed, getting more than a few amused glances our way. “It’s so slimy. Wait, what’s-Is this grass???”

“That’s called cud, Lis,” I replied dryly. “Ovines and bovines, that’s sheep and cows, have multi-chambered stomachs they use to break down fibrous plant matter. They chew something, barf it up, and chew it again over the course of the entire day. That half-digested plant matter is called cud.”

“What? That’s so nasty… You should have told me!”

“I did, weeks ago, over group chat. Tate and Liza can vouch for me.”

“You should have told me today! Before I let her lick me!”

Jeanne ambled over to me with a smug, self-satisfied smirk. I picked up my little prankster and tucked her under my arm like a rugby ball. “But then how else would we amuse ourselves?”

“You’re a jerk, Aaron,” she pouted.

“I am. I am also a man of my word. I did promise a first-hand lesson then.”

“I could do without any more, thanks,” she said, glaring lightly. She pulled out a handkerchief and wiped herself off. She caught Jeanne looking at the bag of pokeblocks, a stash only preserved by the attentive watch of Ali. Ali crooned affectionately as his mistress fed him. “No, no way, missy. Only good pokemon get snacks.”

“Swa-blu,” Ali trilled. I didn’t know what he said, but the tone was universal.

Sparks erupted between Jeanne and Ali as their eyes met. Ember, and now Ali, my little lamb was sure busy gathering rivals for herself.

X

We reconvened after thirty minutes. The lunch intermission was just long enough for us to snack on a few wraps provided by the contest hall.

I stood across from Chaz Rosemund. He was as confident as I’d ever seen him. With his long, blonde hair swept back to one side and a perfectly tailored suit of royal blue, he looked like the ideal dashing prince. In front of him stood Macherie; he wasn’t even trying to hide his pokemon of choice.

Machop didn’t have much in the way of ranged options. They could learn, but even their best efforts tended to be lackluster. I knew he had a venonat and a growlithe in addition to his starter. I’d made no secret that Jeanne was the only pokemon on my team interested in contests; had he been a wiser man, he would have sent out a growlithe for mobility and better range.

Then again, I had a feeling that this wasn’t strictly about making the optimal choice in pokemon to face my flaaffy. I could see it in his eyes and in the fire of emotional aura that surrounded him. He considered me a rival, and so wanted to face me with his starter. It was sentimental, and maybe a little foolish, but I felt my respect for him rise just a little.

Was this what was called a man’s romance?

“Coordinators, are you ready?” the emcee asked. When we nodded our assent, she brought down her little flag, signaling the start of the match. “Then let’s go!”

“Macherie, show them your Light Screen!” Chaz shouted, hand outstretched dramatically.

He likely expected an early salvo, a powerful ranged barrage to keep the melee-focused machop at bay. By using the Light Screen to absorb the attack and create a spectacle for the audience, he would have built himself an early point lead.

Unfortunately for him, that wasn’t how Jeanne did things. She did exactly as I’d taught her: Charge. Whenever there was a moment to breathe, Charge. When you didn’t know what the opponent would do next, Charge. At every idle moment, Charge.

We battled to our own rhythm. So long as Macherie was way over there, Jeanne was happy to set the field. She did a little twirl and slammed her tail on the ground, setting up a small Electric Terrain the size of a pitcher’s mound. Then, using it as a stage light and Charge as her props, she began an impromptu dance routine that made the crowd coo.

For several seconds, Jeanne and Macherie almost had a dance-off rather than fight. Such was the nature of contest battles. Points could be gained and lost through the successful execution of elaborate moves, or by countering your opponents, but the easiest way was simply to look good doing whatever you were doing.

It was something I hadn’t really encountered personally until now. Solidad and her slowbro stomped me and Jeanne so hard that there was no chance to show off. And with Onale, making an aesthetic appeal fell to the wayside in favor of stoking that torchic’s fighting spirit.

Chaz quickly figured out that I was waiting for Light Screen to wear off and had Macherie bombard Jeanne with Rock Slide. Body still glistening with the protective veil, she dug her hands into the battlefield and pulled out bowling ball-sized projectiles before hurling them at Jeanne.

“Agility,” I called. “Fancy feet.”

Jeanne bleated and began to dance more fervently. She was used to training against Durvasa and Artoria. Compared to dodging homing energy stars or a teleporting, spoon-wielding sword-nut who also liked to abuse Double Team, a Rock Slide wasn’t difficult. Perhaps if the move came from a machop with more combat training, she might have had a harder time.

Jeanne posed atop her little Electric Terrain after every dodge like a character out of a magical girl anime. For a contest battle, it wasn’t enough to simply evade; she needed to make it look effortless.

She couldn’t keep this up forever. As well-trained as Jeanne was, her stamina was far from her best trait. Macherie was taking a step or two after each boulder, slowly closing the distance. That was fine; the machop would run out of steam before Jeanne.

Then, halfway to Jeanne, it happened. The blue veil of Light Screen flickered out. It had been used to outline Macherie’s muscles, but there was no way she could keep up a psychic move for so long, not while trying to close the distance and maintain a ranged bombardment.

“Screen’s down!” I shouted, more to let the judges know that this was intentional rather than because Jeanne needed the obvious explained to her. I held my hand dramatically into the air. “Cover the sky! Lightning arrows!”

Jeanne did a little sideways flip, twisting in the air. Her tail whipped out and all the electricity she’d been charging was released into the air. She loosed a dozen bolts of Shock Wave into the air with each swish of her tail.

It was laughably impractical. I could have ended the battle with a single, overpowered Electro Ball. Instead, here we were, wasting all the charge we’d built up to simulate an arrow rain. If the judges asked, it was an “undodgeable attack that’s both pretty and guaranteed to score points.”

I’d have to tell Jeanne why we never do this in a real battle later.

Either way, Macherie wasn’t experienced enough. Now, all that distance she’d covered with her Rock Slide backfired as she had even less space to dodge. I thought this would be it. She’d be hurt and paralyzed and easy pickings for Jeanne.

Then Chaz’s shout cut through the air. “Macherie! Show them your Focus Blast! Straight up!”

Macherie held her hands in front of her, slightly apart. She looked like she was about to charge a Kamehameha. Or maybe Vegeta’s Final Flash.

With a determined shout, she thrust the ball of condensed aura into the air. It collided with the golden arcs of electricity headed for her, creating an explosion of color and wind that ruffled the clothes of those in the front row. As the rain of electricity cascaded around her, she posed, hands behind her head to show off her rippling muscles.

Jeanne looked back at me with a question in her eyes. I shook my head. I’d read up more on contest battles. They were battles, true, but they were also performances, more akin to movie fight choreographies in some ways. Normally, now would have been the perfect time to beat that machop silly, but it wasn’t a bad thing to let her have a few seconds.

Then that time passed. I shouted so Chaz could hear. “Electro Ball! Pitch it!”

“Macherie, defend with Rock Tomb!”

Jeanne used the Electric Terrain as a pitcher’s mound. She took several seconds to wind up an exaggerated baseball pitch. Even as telegraphed as our attack was, Chaz’s machop barely managed to get the wall of stone up in time.

I wondered just how many TMs he’d given that machop of his. So far, I’d seen Rock Slide, Light Screen, Focus Blast, and now Rock Tomb. They were all solid moves, and her versatility was impressive, but that poor machop lacked the experience to have truly mastered any of them.

“Curve ball,” I spoke calmly. I glanced at the scoreboard. It was about time. I’d allowed Chaz to have his back and forth. Macherie got to show off a bit. Now, it was time to dominate.

Jeanne’s next pitch came hard and fast. Worse, it came with the same tracking feature found in Shock Wave. It curved in the air like it had a mind of its own, circling cleanly around the wall of rock to nail her opponent in the face.

“Macherie!” Chaz shouted as she was sent sprawling.

“End the terrain. Agility. Close in.”

This wasn’t necessary. The optimal choice would be to keep up the ranged assault and never let that machop so much as stand up again. Most would say a flaaffy willingly getting close with a machop was stupid. And yet, I found myself feeling confident in Jeanne’s ability to out-duel a machop in close quarters.

Maybe not every machop, but this one? Without question.

It was a real pity, too. Macherie clearly had a lot of know-how when it came to moves. She had to have put in the work to make these moves combat-viable, even if they did come from a TM originally. She was more than a simple brute but her potential had been stifled by Chaz’s methods.

I didn’t know if this was because Chaz himself had no idea how to teach martial arts or because he was so fixated on aesthetics, but I felt the machop could do better. Learning to fight for real might even help them with contests.

Hopefully, this would be a learning experience for them both.

Chaz must have seen a glimmer of hope. He had Macherie rush to meet Jeanne with Revenge. It was a powerful move, one that could do some serious damage if it landed.

Macherie wasn’t bad at fighting up close. No machop could be called that. But she wasn’t the practiced martial artist that was so common amongst her kind. She was the equivalent of a movie stuntman who excelled at those flashy roundhouse kicks but had never been in the ring.

Compared to her usual sparring partners, Macherie was so painfully slow.

“Use your tail. Spin out,” I called as the machop’s glowing haymaker closed in.

It was a running joke that Jeanne would learn the Rasengan one day. I doubted I’d ever call it that, and the sheer concentration of type energy needed to have that boring effect wasn’t there, but she’d gotten quite good at spinning her Electro Ball.

Now, Jeanne used it to maneuver. She conjured an Electro Ball around her tail-bulb and brought it down against the ground. The rotation of the ball picked Jeanne off her feet, carrying her out of the way of Macherie’s haymaker and skidding behind the machop.

And then it was over. One last Electro Ball to the back of the head was enough to knock her opponent out cold.

Author's Note

Long chapter? Long chapter.

Aaron's still figuring out the presentation thing. At the moment, he has a novel idea that works as a proof of concept, not a full performance, and it shows.

For whatever reason, machop learns Light Screen via TM, but not Reflect.

When you see a human block a pokemon attack, your natural conclusion is not “that human is a magic samurai.” It’s “that pokemon is very well-trained.” People don’t attribute the feat to Aaron, but to Jeanne instead.

The contest battle was fun to write. There were a lot of instances when Jeanne could have simply overwhelmed Macherie but didn’t for the sake of putting on a performance. Hopefully, the differences between a contest battle and a gym battle were more apparent here; I know I haven’t been doing that much in the previous examples.

Animal Fact: There is no such thing as a female peacock. A “peacock” refers to the male member of the peafowl species and only males have those large, fan-like tail feathers. Therefore, a female peafowl is actually called a “peahen.”

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.