Modern medicine sure was something – at least as far as Pokémon were concerned.
After a round in the knock-off healing machine, Crow was back to full health – Ryan’s dragon too, for that matter. Giant fucking baby. What, did he think Crow’s tiny fangs could put out a whole eye?
He grimaced as he thought it through. …Actually, if we didn’t have access to these machines, it might’ve lost that eye. His zubat was far from a powerhouse, but the bagon wasn’t exactly fully grown either.
Hoshi gave the tangle of pipes and electronics an appreciative look, though the puffiness of his black eye must have made said look lop-sided. Good thing we do have them, then. Too bad they don’t work on people…
The thought came and went easily – by now it had repeated itself too many times to count, completely losing its impact. I wonder where Rocket got these things – were they built in-house? They certainly looked like it; unlike the Pokécentre machines he had seen numerous times on TV, these ones were much more compact, only able to treat a single Pokémon at a time. Plus they lacked an outer casing; their innards were on full display.
Or maybe they stole them one part at a time – that would explain why they’re so minimalistic, at least.
After one last lingering look, he turned back to see the group paired off as he had left them. Ryan and his… ugh, Jormungandr, paired with Kenny and Bubbles the sandshrew, while Nerine and Tomato the ekans stood against Puce and the koffing she had somehow managed to also name Tomato – the two would have to settle that between them, otherwise it would get confusing. And then there was Casca, patiently waiting for him to finish, her brow quirked.
“Just about done, stud?”
His smile was pained. “Yeah. So, how do you feel about training?”
Her own expression, in turn, was sympathetic – both for him, and herself. “Eh. I mean, pretty good?” Up came her Pokéball, and unlike Hoshi and the other grunt’s hers was uncovered. The purple Rocket Ball gleamed iridescent with its eye-shaped lens and weird bumps. “Candy is kind of out of shape… I’m not much of a battler.”
“That’s fine. We’ll start things off slow.” It wasn’t just his emotions that had urged him to keep his girlfriend to himself – though that was a nice side consideration – no, he had put a bit of thought into who would be paired with who.
Kenny and Puce were frankly abysmal; yeah, Kenny had won a single match, but from his description it had been a basic slugfest against a similarly untrained meowth, and Puce hadn’t even gotten that far. They needed the most help, so he put them with the two better trainers.
He and Casca were probably closer to the middle of the pack; his Pokémon were relatively untrained, while she did almost exclusively undercover work where battling wasn’t necessary – though if he was being honest, it would probably be more accurate to say that her lazy streak extended past housework and into training.
That Water Gun was pretty alright, though. “Alright. Let’s start with some tag.” He released Guts, and a moment later she did the same with her golden orange-brown starfish. Staryu wasn’t a Pokémon he was very familiar with; unlike a lot of other oceanic creatures, they tended not to venture into the bay, preferring to stay on the seafloor. The ‘mon stood on two of its semi-rigid legs, seemingly unconcerned about being up on land. Kind of creepy how it stands upright – feels like a fish shouldn’t be able to do that. I wonder… do they walk like that underwater, or did it learn bipedalism from being around humans?
The two Pokémon sized each other up – or at least that was how Hoshi decided to interpret the staryu’s angled, faceless body. “Guts, we’re going to be playing a game; I want you to tackle Candy over there, but lightly. Once you get a hit, back off and try to dodge its attacks. You understand?”
The rat’s whiskers vibrated as it sniffed, giving him a blank look. Well, she’ll get it once I start giving orders.
Casca’s Pokémon, in contrast, responded by pumping its nubby limbs in an unsettlingly humanoid motion. She reached down to pat its… head? Top arm? “Ready for some exercise?” Her smile got a touch more playful. “Let’s start first! Candy, Tackle!”
----------------------------------------
Kenny frowned. “And yer sure this’ll help him with his moves?”
Running laps wasn’t exactly how he’d been picturing this training session in his head. Though it was kind of funny seeing the little guy waddle after Ryan’s own Pokémon, the dragon goading him on with taunting yips.
“I’m absolutely certain,” Ryan answered. “Your sandshrew has a good temperament, but you need to look further ahead; instead of focusing on Sand Attack, something that will work itself out in a battle or two, you should be training with an eye towards Rollout. That will be its primary attack and mobility tool for a long while, and the move requires a physicality that your Pokémon is… currently lacking.”
Kenny grunted thoughtfully. “I guess. But I’d still like to get Sand Attack down proper.”
The man turned. He had changed out of his muddy grunt uniform and into a light blue suit, and it was a little hard to take him seriously while he was all dolled up – but he had nearly won the tournament, so Kenny would have to be pretty stupid to ignore his advice. “Of course. We can do some light battling once… Bubbles, was it? Yes, once Bubbles runs out of steam. That will help with stamina as much as the running; sandslash is a fairly balanced Pokémon, with both offense and defence, so staying power is key.”
Another grunt. Makes sense… But it kinda feels like I can do this any time. I wanna do training that needs a partner while I can! But as much as the words wanted to burst out, he held them in. Got all day for it… rushing’ll be bad.
Just gotta be patient. Put our heads down and do the work, same as anything.
But speaking of that… “Yo, Suit.” The man took a moment to register the nickname, looking over with faint confusion. “You punch like a fuckin’ girl man. That was disgraceful.”
The man’s white-blond curls bounced like he was the star of a shampoo commercial. “I beg your pardon?”
“You heard me. You said Bubbles wasn’t cuttin’ it physically – well, neither ‘r you.” Kenny turned to face the ponce, letting the angry stare wash over him without flinching. “While our Pokémon train, why don’t I show you some moves? I used to wrestle, y’know.”
“I hardly think I need to-”
“Come on, man. We ain’t goin’ for the Indigo Cup, here – this is dirty work. Gotta be ready to go in, right?” He raised his fists, and sent out a few jabs.
Ryan’s nose remained scrunched in distaste, but after a second he broke eye contact. “That is… not the worst use of our time, I suppose.”
----------------------------------------
Puce stared at the younger girl, and against her will started to fidget. “Um… I’m not sure?”
“Guess,” came Miss Rose’s flat reply, her arms crossed sternly. In the background her ekans and Toma- and Potato traded clouds of Smog and Poison Sting needles.
“…G-ground?”
“And?”
Puce racked her brain. She was bad at this, knew she was bad at this, and that knowledge seemed to block up all the pathways of her thoughts, clogging them with sludge. “I…” Somehow the tiny girl in front of her was twelve feet tall, looming, her displeasure a solid wall. “I don’t know…”
It hurt to admit, the same as it always did. Just like everything else in her entire life, the strengths and weaknesses of each type of Pokémon fell right out of her head the moment she needed it.
Miss Rose sighed. “Psychic. The other one is psychic.” A pause, then she slipped another sentence out in a lower voice. “And bug, sometimes. It depends on the species and what they’ve been eating… But ground and psychic are the big ones.”
Puce hung her head, nodding tepidly as all the energy went out of her. “Right. I’ll try to remember that, Miss Rose.”
The teenager continued to stare at her, eyes narrowed under thin glass. Her face screwed up for a fraction of a second in emotion, but before Puce could identify what it was, it was gone.
“Look, Puce, this is… This isn’t going to work. I get not knowing the chart top-to-bottom, but can you not do one type?”
She opened her mouth, then thought better and settled on a sad shake of the head instead. I try, I really do try, I promise…
And like a mirror, the younger girl did the same – opening her mouth, then closing it. Instead of speaking, she turned and went to sit against her backpack. She took off her hat, letting the green waterfall of her hair tumble out.
Puce shamefully looked away from yet another teacher who she had forced to give up. On the field their two Pokémon continued to refine their aim; the ekans actually seemed to be losing, since her koffing’s attacks covered a wider area. Ha… My Pokémon is actually better without me…
“Why Tomato?”
She startled. “Huh?”
Miss Rose raised her head. “Why’d you name your koffing that? I named mine that ‘cause they’re my favourite food. I didn’t want to go with Noodle or something lame like that, but a different food name seemed… funny, I guess.”
“Oh… Um, I just thought she looked kind of like a big tomato?” And I couldn’t think of anything better… “But Potato is good, too. I’m not mad I had to change it, or anything.” It’s actually kind of cool, isn’t it? That we’d give our Pokémon the same name.
Another sigh. The girl reached back, digging in her bag for a second before drawing out a super-sized chocolate bar. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to imply you’re stupid or anything. It’s just, like, this is weird, you know? I expected being in a gang to be… different.” She smiled thinly as the wrapper tore. “Like, I’m basically just at school. And it isn’t…” She made a frustrated noise, biting into the thick chocolate and chewing without any decorum.
There was a tiny voice in the back of her head that sounded like Mother, urging Puce to rebuke the teen for her sloppiness. But that voice had been steamed out by the pressure cooker of a public high school, and she ignored it with only a little effort. “No, you were right. I’m not… good at this.”
With hesitant steps she approached, and sat down heavily beside the girl. “I… I’ve always wanted to be a Pokémon trainer, ever since I was old enough to want to be anything.” Like usual, her bulky body made things awkward; without even trying, she seemed to crowd the girl, making her scoot over. “But… maybe I should quit. I flunked out of school, and then the reform school… I couldn’t even get the tests done back when they were easy. My parents paid a lot to get me in here, and… I don’t want to be a burden on anyone…” This was the last shot. Rocket doesn't care about exam scores or anything like that… so if I’m still failing, doesn’t that mean it wasn’t the tests that were the problem? That it’s just big, stupid me?
Miss Rose chewed on her candy for a minute, occasionally glancing Puce’s way before hastily looking away.
Eventually, she spoke. “Okay, I don’t know how to deal with this. Let’s just… pretend this whole conversation never happened, okay?” She balled up the now-empty wrapper, and shoved it back into her bag before standing. Reluctantly, Puce stood as well. “Koffing is a better Pokémon than most people give it credit for. It’s way more durable than it looks, and it learns a lot of strong moves naturally. Plus it explodes, which is super cool.”
She scratched at her head before donning her cap, tucking her long dyed hair up into the oversized crown. “On the other hand, it has poor endurance and can’t float very fast at all. If you can’t remember what your own Pokémon can do…”
Puce tensed. Here came the rebuke, the urging to give up for her own good. This time… I think I’m finally ready to hear it. Nerine was good, a real trainer the way her old teachers hadn’t been; if she said Puce was a lost cause… well, who was she to argue?
Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.
“…Then you need a strategy that works in every situation. Something rote, that you can follow by instinct.” Her eyes were cold, calculating, the way they’d been during her fight with Ryan. Her foot tapped the ground, loose rubber squeaking, and something about the combo of sound and expression made Puce break out in gooseflesh.
“Yeah,” she continued, seemingly speaking more for her own benefit than the older woman’s. “A rote strategy. Defence and poison…” Her mouth was a thin line as she turned back to Puce. “I think you’d make a decent defensive battler, Puce. Yeah… just grinding forward. Poison’s a type that a lot of people underestimate, but it can be pretty damn good if you use it right.”
----------------------------------------
Arc, now I know why she was so adamant that a starmie could beat the Elite Four. It turned out that not only was Casca’s starter Pokémon faster than both of his, its Water Gun hit like a fucking truck.
“I’m impressed,” he said, watching the starfish nail Crow dead-on with an underpowered spurt. Waterlogged, the aggrieved zubat needed to flap twice as hard just to stay airborne. “This guy’s way stronger than the one I fought in the Little Cup.”
Casca shot him a satisfied look, but was a touch more humble with her words. “I’ve been a Rocket for a while, Hoshi. I wouldn’t call myself a great trainer, but Candy’s fully grown; that’s an advantage all on its own.”
Still. I was expecting things to be a little more even. Like clockwork, the staryu jumped and spun like a massive shuriken, nailing Crow with a light Tackle – light in comparison, he should say; given the sheer weight disparity the hit was still heavy enough to bruise. “I think that’s enough tag for now; I don’t want my girls to get dispirited.”
His girlfriend raised a brow at his choice of words, but let it slide. A minute later, and they were all healed up and ready for the next phase of training: actual battle.
In his preliminary plans, Hoshi had been expecting to fight with just one of his Pokémon – but since the strength disparity was larger than expected, he’d switched things up and decided to use this as an opportunity to practise his Pokémon’s teamwork. And my ability to command them at the same time, too.
“Ready when you are!” Casca yelled. Though the battle court was less richly appointed than the rest of the school, it was still large enough to accommodate a few small-scale battles, something he was thankful for. If we had to do this in the rain, we’d be miserable, especially Ryan with his muddy jacket. Though speaking of him…
Hoshi glanced at the two other pairs of grunts. Nerine and Puce seem good – are they playing tag too? I guess it is a pretty good way to train. And Ryan and Kenny are-
He blinked. The ex-wrestler had Ryan in a headlock, their Pokémon seemingly forgotten as the dragon and rodent chased each other in circles. With a sigh he adjusted his cap. Typical. I thought Menard might have some brains somewhere in that oversized skull, but I guess it’s meathead all the way down. “One sec, I need to nip this in the bud.” He stepped towards the two men. I suppose I should have expected this. Kenny likes to pick on Puce, so putting him next to Ryan, whose ass I just kicked, was bound to-
“Naw, don’t worry. Big guy’s just teaching him some hand-to-hand.”
Casca’s words made him stop in his tracks. “Huh?”
She shot him a look that was both smug and mildly rueful. “Tag wasn’t quite holding my attention, sooo…” she trailed off, drawing out the vowel. “I started people-watching. Sorry, I know this is important.”
Hoshi frowned. “You heard them from all the way on the other side of the room?”
In response, she put her hand next to her head and flapped the thumb against the rest of her fingers in a blah blah blah gesture. “Lip reading.”
“Huh.” I didn’t know you could do that. Hoshi’s eyes went back to the men for a moment, before he turned back to his girlfriend – and their Pokémon – properly. I’ll just take her word for it. Though Kenny had shown at least a puddle’s worth of depth and Ryan hadn’t been as big of an ass as he could have been today, he still didn’t exactly like either of them. “Well, alright then. I guess we’re good to go.”
----------------------------------------
Deep breaths, girl.
Casca Kichi was good at her job. But unfortunately, Pokémon battling was… outside of her core competencies, you could say.
You could also say that she sucked major ass, if you wanted to speak Kantonese.
She chuckled softly as she felt the weight of Candy’s ball. The humour helped; some of her nervousness flew away, through the ceiling and into the clouds up above. Damn, I forgot how weird it is to hold these things.
The Rocket Ball felt unsteady in her hand, like the captured Pokémon was moving around inside – obviously that wasn’t what was happening, but the image refused to leave her head every time she was forced to battle. Not that that’s a large number…
“On three,” Hoshi called. Okay, game face. She raised the ball to her lips. “One, two-”
“Use Water Gun right away,” she whispered, and wound up to throw.
“Three!”
Both Candy and Hoshi’s Rattata popped out in centre-field – damn, I wanted more space; gotta work on my spin – and a moment later his zubat joined in. But before either trainer could draw breath for an order, each Pokémon moved to attack; Candy bent her topmost leg down, firing a jet of water from the normally-invisible opening on the end. Guts leapt to the side and charged, the spray striking the ground behind her and splashing Hoshi with mud. Crow flew upwards, angling to fly a mildly curving path towards her opponent.
“Damnit!” her lover yelled, spitting, and she realised she had accidentally created a moment where the opposing trainer was effectively blind.
Not that there are a whole lot of options. “Follow the rattata! Keep up the pressure!” There’s no reason to Harden before it gets close, same goes for Tackle.
Hoshi rubbed the mud out of his eyes just in time to witness his rat get blasted. “Guts!” The smaller Pokémon was light enough that it caught some impressive air, and Casca started to feel the contrary emotions of maybe I can win this hope and I feel bad about it hesitation. It felt kind of like cheating, using an innately stronger Pokémon to beat up something tiny and cute – and not in a fun way like stacking the deck in poker.
Then the zubat screeched, Candy’s aim wobbling under the waves of disorienting sound. Hoshi is taking this seriously… so I will, too! “Reload, then another Water Gun! This time, hit the zubat!”
Her boyfriend’s eyes flashed with hope strong enough she could see it through both the sludge and bruises coating his face. “Charge! Tail Whip into Quick Attack!”
The little rat rolled onto its feet – and put on a burst of speed faster than it had ever gone during tag. Holy-! “Fighting retreat!”
Candy followed the order, taking a leap backwards and spinning her body to catch the air in that uncanny way all staryu seemed to instinctively know how to do – she almost flew back, swooping down as well as any bird, firing her Water Gun the moment she touched down.
The force of the water jet propelled her even further, and Casca raised a leg to let her Pokémon slide past on her back. The attack missed wildly, but Hoshi still bared his teeth. “Come on! If this were a real match, you’d be out of the ring!”
She very maturely stuck out her tongue. “If you’re gonna make up rules, do it before the match starts!”
Her boyfriend growled as his Pokémon attempted, unsuccessfully, to make up the distance. “First thing in the morning,” he muttered, inaudible, “I’m visiting Pokémart. This fucking melee-on-ranged shit is miserable.”
----------------------------------------
Guts and Crow did, eventually, manage to catch up. Hoshi watched as Casca’s staryu gradually ran out of steam – or water, rather – the ‘reload time’ between each Water Gun gradually increasing. In light of this, he had Guts stay back in a move that might have seemed suicidal from the outside.
But it worked out; at range, Guts and Crow were able to dodge the increasingly flaccid jets of water, and once Hoshi judged their threat level to be low enough… “Guts, charge! Let’s try this again!”
Going easy with the day’s prior training paid off; his girl still had enough in the tank for a solid sprint, and soon she was within biting distance, the starfish’s leaps not enough to keep it away. Low stamina; that’s its weak point! Casca panicked, screaming “Harden!” a full second before it was necessary.
Ha, same mistake as that grunt I fought in my initiation! “Get behind and tip it over with Tail Whip!”
However unlike that dumbass grunt, Casca – whether she knew it or not – made the right decision.
“T-tackle! Then Harden, then Tackle again!”
Guts managed to at least get it off its ‘feet,’ but rather than fall gem-side-down in the muddy earth, the staryu caught itself with its three other arms and kicked. Guts took the hit to the teeth, squeaking and retreating.
“Keep it up! Its Tackle shouldn’t hit as hard as your Quick Attack – you’ve got it on the ropes!”
“Come on, Candy! One last Water Gun, point blank!”
“Crow, get in there! Leech Life!”
----------------------------------------
Meowth watched from a window as the fresh crop of Rocket Grunts stumbled back out into the rain. They looked drained – which was good; that was how a trainer was meant to look at the end of the day. Good on dem. Makes me feel like a proud fadah watchin’ ‘is kittens.
Two sets of footsteps, close enough in gait that only his sensitive whiskers could discern that there were two, pitter-pattered lightly into the room. Jessie and James came up behind him, watching silently until all six of their minions were past the gate and out of sight – amusingly it was the younger girl who led the pack; apparently she could muster as much motivation as she needed to get away from their little academy.
“What’s your read on them, Meowth?” James asked.
He worked his jaw before answering. Sometimes he regretted evolving; his longer skull and differently-shaped mouth made most motions of human speech flatly impossible, seriously reducing his ability to communicate with anyone who hadn’t spent years in his presence.
But gettin’ da moves back was worth it. So long as one counted that together with the longer limbs, stronger body, enhanced senses, and increased lifespan, at least. His tongue rasped against the roof of his mouth for a moment before he spoke – in a mixed Old Galarian/Isle Verde Tongue trader's pidgin.
Not only was it slightly easier on his throat than straight Kantonese, but it also signaled to his partners that he had caught wind of one of Archer’s annoyingly hard to catch spies.
“Good catch. Green, but good catch.” Without moving a hair, the two sharpened.
“Oh? Interesting.”
“Anyone we should be looking at more closely?” Jessie asked, resting her chin on one hand.
“Girl. Moves well. Big girl. Big.”
James tittered. “Well, anyone could see that.” His eyes moved, and Meowth twitched his whiskers when they got close. “She could grab a man’s torso between two fingers. What about the young prodigy, Archer’s boy?”
He snorted. “Boring.”
Jessie’s aura took on a pleased air. “Oh? Not planning anything… disruptive?”
He snorted again. Humans. Can’t judge a character ‘till it bites ‘em in the behind. “Boring.” The Sampo heir was almost painfully honest; the boy had none of his grandfather’s guile.
A passable battler and mildly charismatic, but they had enough Executives of that type to stack them to the ceiling and keep going. No, what the current Rocket had in short supply was…
“Thin man,” he said, then after a moment’s consideration added “On fire.”
Jessie’s arm moved in a blur, and Swoobat appeared and fired a blast of noise in a single moment.
A reverberating thump that made Meowth’s ears curl – sometimes enhanced senses weren’t an upside. James ambled over to a side-door and peered through.
“Aw, looks like they got away- ah, but what’s this?” He returned to the group a moment later, a sliver-thin needle held delicately between his gloved fingers.
Jessie clasped her hands excitedly. “Is that what I think it is?!”
A nod. “Unless someone’s taken a prank entirely too far – but let’s let the expert do his job. Meowth?”
He sniffed – it was. The scent was completely unmistakable. Huh, not one of Archer’s afta all. And not a lick 'a body scent – we're dealin' wit a professional. “Ninjas,” he said, this time in the humans’ native tongue.
His two partners looked at each other, then back to him as Swoobat chittered.
“Doksu?”
“Or Ankoku?”
“Or, dare I say it, Mutsu?”
“Doksu.” The poison was, as he said, unmistakable.
Jessie and James shared another look, then broke into squeals. “Magnificent!” James announced. “When was the last time we fought ninjas?”
“Oh, I can’t even remember. More importantly, this means we’re on the right track!”
“Yes, they wouldn’t shell out for real assassins otherwise! Meowth, let’s go!”
They turned and pointed, and he sighed and abandoned his spot by the window. “Meow,” he said, not bothering with words.
“Exactly!” Jessie replied, returning Swoobat as the three of them marched out of the room. “Maybe they and Archer’s accursed spies will trip over each other, and save us a headache. Always look on the bright side!”
They crossed three rooms before James turned to him, an inquisitive look on his face. “Did you mean what you said? About the new Senior Grunt."
Meowth tilted his head, considering. It had only been a signal, but when he thought about it… “On fire a little,” he croaked. “Big spark.”
Jessie clapped her hands, startling a labcoat-type peon that hadn’t noticed their swift and cat-like passage. “Ooh, I like that! Very poetic!”