2. Punishing Day
"Enemies on our right flank!" Bleak yelled, rolling behind a nearby rock.
He wiggled backwards, focused on keeping his feet from punching through the soft snow. Bursts of energy sailed overhead. Lightning crackled... followed by a torrent of water that left mist trailing under its path. A combination like that could leave a charmander too paralyzed to kindle his tail-fire again. What were these monsters, anyhow? Their violent nature seeped through his rock as if it was porous, and he sensed an intent to harm.
He pitched his nose up. "Aiyee, I need help!"
"On the way."
Aiyee leaped on top of the rock, curling his hind legs. He let the energy out in a giant leap, log-rolling twice mid-air before hititng the ground in a sloppy skid. The charmander couldn't help flinching the whole way.
"I'll use my shadow powers to conceal myself," the poochyena called back. "You shoot fire as a distraction."
"This is bad, real bad," Bleak cried. "These ones aren't like the others. They're stronger, faster, I can't get a read on them."
"We can't go down here, so do your best. I mean, worst—to them."
Shaking lightly, Bleak pushed up against his cover, readying himself for attack. The attacks above his head now resembled a full-on thunderstorm, and he feared that even a second out of safety threatened to get him struck.
The wet crunch of Aiyee's paws in the snow faded. His brother was so good at sneaking, even Bleak had no idea where the dark-type went whenever he descended into the shadows.
A shout came from near the monsters, which howled in response. "Attack now, now, I got one's leg."
Bleak took in a breath, crawled onto the rock, and opened his maw. Now or never was the thought racing through his head. These monsters guarded a time-gear, defended a world where time itself devolved into meaningless grey. They wanted the guild to stay destroyed, Treasure Town to remain a ghost-town, and all the world's wonder to be brambles and thorns. Anger had to be an emotion far off his usual, but he managed it, yes, he pushed it out, mustering it into a powerful burst of fire-type magic. Go, go, go!
"Fwoosh!" He yelled, clacking his teeth at the monsters. "Fwoosh, fwoosh!"
"Pow," Aiyee growled, butting head-first into the snow. "Bang, pow." He rolled out of the way of his brother's fireball, giving a small squeak to simulate their enemy's anguish. His tongue flopped out, ear-to-ear grin on his face as he fought the imaginary monsters.
The charmander quit shooting 'fireballs' and sat there, enjoying the scene. It was amazing how far their game had grown.
It was a sunny day, punishing day—but bright. Today of all days, a sort of damper crawled under the poochyena's coat. On days like this, a chosen pokémon made the walk into the Sixburrow Mystery Dungeon. To disappear forever, so they might all survive one more year. For a poochyena who asked friendship out of anyone in sight, it hurt. For everyone else, it was a day of guilty thoughts, wishing death on others... or facing the fact one was ready to make the trip. For Bleak—he never minded. Cold, humid heat, specks of dirt in his drinking water, these hurt, had the potential to kill him if left untreated. Yet this sadness grazed by unannounced, and harmless.
Two years ago, a poochyena lost his father to the dungeon, and his mother after she refused to eat, and found himself stuck in the orphan's den. He heard a charmander's own mother used to own books, and asked him: can you read? then can you read this? It was a giant account on the Heroes of Time, and how they prevented the death of time itself. A month into readings, he asked Bleak for another favor:
Can you help me pretend to be the hero of time? Aiyee had asked. I'm not very good at thinking smart like you.
Aiyee's happiness was his responsibility.
"Hey, Bleak?" The poochyena said, finally done throttling their attackers. His sloppy grin had devolved into dismay. "Were the monsters back then pokémon?"
The charmander started to speak, but paused for lack of an answer. He restarted and floundered through his words. "I—well, the book doesn't say. Grovyle was portrayed as bad, I guess. Dialga and Dusknoir were evil. There's evidence for it." In their imaginary games, the opposition never appeared as much more than goopy shadows. They grew whatever body parts they needed to keep the game fun—tentacles, knives-for-hands, anything.
"Dialga and all them become good," Aiyee replied. "So did the heroes get rid of pokémon who might get better?" Ears folding, he clambered onto the rock.
Bleak breathed out and sat next to him. "Um..." Aiyee's mood required some wordsmithing if they wanted to escape their error. Gallons of imaginary blood was on their paws and claws. He smiled, putting together a counter. "Who says the heroes killed their enemies? I never read that."
Aiyee mulled it over, muzzle rising a few inches as he tried to recall the words 'kill' and 'die' in three volumes and two-hundred pages worth of fables. "You're right," he said. "I mean, I bet heroes knock their enemies out."
"They lock them away and help them become good," Bleak said. Not many examples of imprisonment in Sixburrow. Still, like everyone else, he knew one of the inn's rooms had bars on the windows for good reason.
"Like the punishment room," Aiyee said, proving Bleak's idea. "I thought that was for punished who fought back."
"Yeah. But it's also for thieves and other criminals. We can pretend that's where the bad pokémon go after we beat them up, to jail." He placed extra emphasis on the last word, so Aiyee knew to use it when their game resumed.
The chill in the air subsided as Aiyee wiggled in against his side.
"Jeel, Ja-aisle. Jail... you're so good at figuring stuff out," the poochyena said, easy smile taking over his muzzle. "One day, if the world's really smart, it'll give you a bunch of pokémon to boss around."
Heat gushed into the charmander's cheeks. "I don't wanna boss anyone around!" He exclaimed.
"Love you," he added, quieter.
"...Love you," Aiyee said back, grinning.
They weren't able to return to their game. Sixburrow's inn laid a good distance from where they played, yet it was more than close enough for them to see grownups trickling away from its front. The other Sixburrow orphans laid along a snowbank, mewling for gifts as pokémon shambled by. Not being chosen for punishment put many adults in a good mood, so punishing day was a good day for eating. Bleak and Aiyee sat in that line often, picking money and food out of the snow, but now he was focused on the fact this meant punishing day had 'ended.'
By now, the punishers had declared the chosen. The unlucky pokémon stays at the inn with family until their time comes around. The punishers would try to give these families privacy, which meant a few were likely outside, hunting after Sixburrow's busywork.
"Let's go do it," Bleak whispered. Aiyee gasped and started to wag his tail in consternation.
Most orphans stood no chance to claw their way out of poverty, unless they fell into a special age: young enough to be put into a den, old enough to have learned their parents' trade. But Bleak and Aiyee had a way to change their luck. They actually had something to trade.
He slipped off of their seat and picked up a bag. In the game, a satchel full of relics and treasure, in real life, crammed with almost thirty pounds of rocks. It was his mother's, and once held old books given to her for restoriation. He worried the heavy stones stretched the material.
"I'm worried," the poochyena said. "You said if someone catches us, they'll take everything away for free." No reason to pay for what could be stolen away with some 'grownup' excuse. It's too dangerous for children, or I can put this to better use than you whelps. Even the generous moods of punishing day stretched so far.
"No one's going near the inn. It makes them all nervous."
"It makes me nervous."
"A lot of punishers started like us," Bleak said, patting Aiyee's back. "They'll be happy to help us out and get something good in return. They're the ones who won't simply steal our stuff." Punishers and traders, yet the latter wouldn't be around during the winter.
Taking in a deep breath, Aiyee helped push the bag's strap onto the charmander's shoulder.
Right away, their plan met a hitch.
"I don't recognize these punishers," Aiyee yipped. "Where'd the Bonecrusher go? Or Girrup?"
Bleak never met the linoone outside the inn, but he knew the luxio bouncing up and down while relaying some story. "Look," he said, trying to console his brother, "it's Leb."
Sixburrow laid on the fringes of Orchidia, known once as the Grass Continent. It was a lonely place that welcomed traders far less often than its neighbors, due to the wide plains that separated it from normal trade routes. For anything intresting to happen here, and something so big as a change in leadership, put a lump in the charmander's throat.
It took years for the grownups of Sixburrow to get used to the Bonecrusher, for Bleak alone to get used to him—and his horrific name. The commander, a giant rhydon, was there for Bleak when his mother went into the dungeon. The young charmander stayed a week at the commander's camp when his father abandoned him to wade into the plains, subjected often to blizzards far too threatening to a charmeleon's tail-fire, and even kept up Bleak's hopes about his father returning. He wished he had the chance to say goodbye to the goliath.
It made him all the more determined to carry out his plan. It was so unfair to live in this chilled bubble. Where those who left stayed gone.
Bleak pushed forward without warning Aiyee. His face must have given him away, because the poochyena followed without a bit of surprise.
Leb's story trailed off as the children walked up. The linoone looked at her for an explanation, she replied by rolling her shoulders in a shrug. She was a former child of Sixburrow's den. A bit of a bully back then, but punishing humbled her, made her more wry than outright caustic.
"Hey, snots," Leb teased, using her old word for them. "Come to be the tenth pokémon asking after the change in management?"
Aiyee made a point of blinking, dazed, then focusing on the luxio. He seemed a bit baffled, cowed by her presence.
"Um, no," Bleak said. "W-We wanted to talk to all three of you. I-I'm Bleak," he offered to the linoone.
The first, with brown streaks on his back, still had a placating, childish tone from his days of begging. "Hanz!" He barked. "It's a pleasure!" He wiggled his lithe body and wagged his tail, promising to be playful rather than strict.
The other linoone bore black streaks, yet these streaks weren't defined enough to keep out his cream fur. The patch twin spoke in a husky voice. "Hi, kid! I'm Fran. We're with commander Allworthy, who will be taking over. He's nice, promise." He did the same playful wiggle, yet his appeared rehearsed. It succeeded only in putting Aiyee on edge.
"I'm Aiyee, and also I'm confused. Why is the Bonecrusher leaving?" Aiyee asked, narrowing his eyes.
"Sixburrow is too far separated from his other villages," Leb explained. "All a part of the duke's plans to keep us closer-knit."
"You've changed a lot," the poochyena said to Leb. Bleak jolted, trying to figure out where this accusation had come from.
Thankfully, Leb didn't seem too mad. "Yeah? I've got to walk a pokémon to their death this evening. Changes your mood, no matter how the sun's out. What do you two want?"
Not wasting any time, Bleak slung off his bag. This caught the punishers' attention—the satchel looked heavy and important, two things not supposed to be in a child's claws. "So, I... found these by some ruins." He pulled out one of the stones in the bag. On it was an etched drawing, too intricate to describe as a shape, too vague to define as an image. It was the right size to fit on top of his claw.
None of them spoke. Then, after swallowing, Fran piped up. "Wow!" He exclaimed. "Pretty."
"More than pretty," the charmander bragged. "They are magic. Warm to the touch... and If you put them on snow... the snow melts pretty fast."
Leb scratched her ear, baffled. "Okay... thanks for sharing."
Hanz gave a polite smile. "I mean, I can spare a poké or two..." a poké or two meant they would have earned more keening for gifts on the snowbank!
Aiyee, noticing their lack of enthusiasm, threw in his own weight. "They make the melted snow pure, too!" He smiled, but Bleak almost bit his own tongue in shock. That smile faded as Aiyee realized what he said.
"How do you know that?" Hanz asked. "Sounds hard to know for sure."
"B-B-Because," Bleak stammered. "Um... I drank it as a test."
Leb guffawed. "Yeah, are you forgetting I lived with you? No way you risked your life to test some stone. You know, I'm done with this game. You two can deal, right?" The linoone shook their heads no, then maybe, then I guess. "Good. I'm going for a walk."
The children sat in silence, defeated. Bleak way overestimated the value of these stones. Or, at least, their value without mentioning the fact they purified snow-water. He should have rehearsed his excuses more. Or not given his excuse in front of Leb. It was too risky telling the truth. This was the end of their plan.
"Sorry," he muttered, turning back.
Then, a miracle: "No, no! I want to know more," Fran said, looking around. "Can you show me?"
Aiyee bounced up and down. He practically robbed Bleak of the stone and threw it into a lump of snow. Right away, it started to dig into the two inches of frost. The punishers stared at it, wide-eyed.
The black-streaked linoone came forward and lapped at the ice-water. "Not sure if it's pure, but it tastes fantastic."
"Move over," Hanz complained, trying to test. They enjoyed a quick drink, then took up the stone.
"O-Okay, so, um..." Fran chuckled. "This sounds useful. Let me... let me go get some money."
The two orphans looked at each other, victory making their skin prickle.
Bleak waved a hand. "Okay, sure!"
"You found it in a ruin?" Fran asked.
"Yes," Aiyee answered.
"Hanz, er, make sure he doesn't go anywhere."
The first twin nodded, the second went to fetch his money.
Bleak closed his eyes and dreamt of seeing patients in a house of his own. It was closer than ever.
Fran and a weavile walked towards them at a brisk pace. This weavile seemed regal in appearance. Piercing placed on his head-frills glittered in the sun, and he had the body of a well-traveled pokémon, or a veteran punisher. He didn't seem like he was coming to buy stones.
It was a hair too late, but Bleak noticed how Hanz had fallen into a nervous mumble—putting out word salad in order to distract them. The higher-ranked punisher kept up his stride, and before the children knew it the scent of expensive lavender shampoo stung their noses.
His instincts screamed to back away, yet the weavile grabbed his wrist first. The grip had a mean kind of pain to this.
"His bag," the veteran ordered. The charmander froze. Like a rat resting on a monster's teeth, he had the idea that if he moved, the way to the monster's gut would open too. Long claws the color of stained teeth dug into his skin.
"Hey!" Aiyee snarled, hinting at his sharp fangs. "Don't grab him my brother that way."
Fran now had Bleak's bag in his paws. He looked like a pup who lost his mother on a busy day at market.
"Okay, now turn it over," the weavile instructed. "Dump everything out. Hanz, keep an eye on the poochyena, will you?"
It was obvious the two linoone found the situation regretful, yet they fell to order anyway. Disk after disk rained from the sack onto the snow, first making hollow pluffs, then clacks as they piled atop one another. A puddle of purified water formed underneath. Bleak figured out what was happening, what was being sought after, and squirmed.
The weavile picked up a disk and held it to the sunlight. "Did you find these somewhere—Fran, search the pockets and if I need to direct you again, we'll see about my recommendation," he said, all on one flurried breath. Fran winced and the rummages redoubled.
"Y-Yes!" Bleak cried. "T-T-There was a bunch in the old ruins." There were old ruins near Sixburrow, just pillar sticking out from the ground and he did leave some disks to pose as their alibi. But the pockets, they were checking all his pockets!
"This power is not so you might sell baubles to morons," the punisher spat, letting go. He surged forward and shoved his subordinate to the ground, wresting open the bag. Right away he removed a knife hidden in the snug compartment Bleak stiched himself—Bleak let out an explosive whine. "I could see the blade's handle through the fabric the entire time! Great tracker, you couldn't find your own snout."
He knew the entire time, Bleak thought. The searching and yelling served to frighten him into lying. It didn't matter now. They found his special knife, and he lied about it. He crouched down in submission, unable to decide what to say next, excuses, lies or apologies.
"You used this, didn't you?" The weavile shook it in front of him. "A mistake. You should have stowed this contract somewhere off your body, whelp."
"C-Contract?" Bleak squeaked. Is he talking about my knife?
"Don't joke around with me, brat... you really don't know what it is." The panic broke over, pouring right into an uncomfortable stillness. "This pattern on these disk-stones, did you design this? Or was it plastered on the side of your 'ruins?'"
Aiyee stamped his paws, readying to charge. "I can't sit out anymore!" He yelled. "You tattled on us, Fran? Uncool! I'm going to get all three of you."
"Come on, kid." Fran said. He was still reeling from the weavile's insult, frown etched onto his maw. "Settle down. Nasfereet doesn't plan to hurt your friend. I told you, investigator Nasfereet, the 'mander seems to have no idea what he did."
Aiyee growled. "If you touch him at all, I don't care how tough you are. My father taught me all sorts of tricks for dealing with bullies."
Bleak waited a moment, meeting eyes with his brother, then made a choice. "I-I used the knife... contract to make it. The pattern just occurred to me one day."
Despite it sounding like another lie, Nasfereet nodded. "Come with me. You will speak to the commander."
A commander needs to get involved?! The child whimpered and threw a glance back at his brother. "C-Can he come?"
"Your sibling may attend... if he shuts up."
The poochyena gave him a glare that said: no promises.
"I'm sorry," Fran whispered to them as they waited outside the inn. Nasfereet had gone inside to explain the situation to the commander. The news had spread, villagers fanning out to report this development. The replacement commander for Sixburrow and his lap-weasle had seized an orphan. Leb sat outside of earshot, talking to a delcatty—Momola, their was where the luxio ran off to. There was going to be ruin for this.
"Not gonna cut it," Aiyee said. "We are in so much trouble."
"Don't be silly" Hanz insisted. Fran motioned for him to lower his voice. "We are obligated to report incidents like this to superiors. Neither of you are in trouble, promise. It's... I don't know. Nasfereet is usually too caught up thinking to get angry."
"When I told him, he flew off the handle," Fran added. "At first he was like yes, yes. Then what? And afterwards, follow me now. Grr... I'm super angry..."
The poochyena stifled a giggle.
Fran smiled. "I'm surprised you held yourself back. Thought I was gonna have to subdue you."
"Firstly, I'd thrash you with my eyes closed. Secondly, I got the feeling Bleak didn't want me to scrap," Aiyee explained, glancing at the charmander. Bleak acknowledged him with a grunt. "He's so smart. When we play make-believe explorers, he leads our group to victory every time."
"We used to play that!" Hanz said, tail lashing.
"We send all our bad pokémon to jail to get better." It was such an odd, Aiyee-centric brag. It made Bleak wiggle his toe-claws with glee.
The linoone needed a moment to understand, to kill the beginnings of a frown. Before Bleak spotted it in the corner of his eye, Hanz's sadness was fully dead. "That's cool and merciful. It will be awhile before the commander is caught up, so maybe we can do an mission together."
Fran sighed. "Brother? Are you okay in the head? Imagine if the commander caught us playing make-believe in full view of his newly-assigned village."
"We won't be around long anyway."
"Why?" Aiyee asked.
Hanz perked his ears. "Oh." Both linoone straightened their posture in unison. "Commander Allworthy thinks we have a nose for detecting. He's going to send us to a special school in Pathen, where we can become investigators like Nasfereet."
Bleak had been staring at his empty paws, imagining his blade—a contract— was in them. Over the last year, since he freed it from the snow, he had practiced using its edge. The movements came easy to him. Yet now he couldn't explain even a small part of his progress.
He decided to let the grownups figure him out. "An Orchidian investigator?" He asked, jumping into the conversation. "Um, I thought high-ranking punishers had to be Atlasan."
Atlas. The Air Continent. They were the continent to first see the dungeons change, the first to dominate all others and implement the punishers as a solution. They brought the other lands kicking and screaming into their system, and had no shortage of pride about it. Other continents, like Orchidia, took on names to retain their own pride, yet Atlas paid it no mind.
"Nonsense, there are tons of us in high positions." Hanz rubbed a paw against his chest. "There was our commander up near Blune, for example. Er, I misspoke, forget I said anything—"
"Idiot!" Fran sneered, anger alighting his eyes. "We were ordered to keep our mouths shut!" This exclamation lacked the playfullness Fran showed before. For a second there, the twins hung in shock. "A-Anyway," he continued, settling his hackles. "I have a question. What were you planning to do with the money?"
Bleak wagged his tail thinking about it. "Go live in a city. Find a vocational school and learn a trade." The trade was medicine. Doctoring had to be how he could put his blasé attitude towards death to good use.
Aiyee struck a firm howling pose. "I want to scrap in an arena, starting way at the bottom and clambering up to the top!" A good fit. The poochyena managed to be sturdy and healthy in a life not known for its feasts. It was as though he found more 'food' in food. "Those exist, right? They aren't just story-stuff?"
The two linoone nodded, starting a fire in the poochyena's eyes.
"Told you," Bleak said to his overjoyed brother.
"What about your other siblings?" Hanz asked. "It will cost a lot of money for all of you."
The charmander had tried for years to put a nice spin on his response. Like the contract, all the good words flittered out of reach. "I don't care about them as much as I care about Aiyee. I bet you felt the same way, being twins."
"Wow. That's pretty cold, but I do understand. We were almost assigned to different villages." Hanz's ears flicked. "One of the dukes here in Orchidia, Duke Brazen, came down here personally to see us stick together. A freakin' Duke did that for us! I promise that Atlasan leadership is awesome. We haven't met a bad apple yet. I wanted to tell you this because, well..."
"Quit fraternizing," Nasfereet shouted from the top of the stairs. He pounded down the steps as if ready to smack all four of them back to their senses. They kept their bodies rigid until a wry smile broke past the weavile's scowl. "Relax, I'm kidding. I can be quite intimidating, hm?"
Aiyee snuck in a challenging "I'm not afraid of you" while the others nodded.
"It's easy to maintain dominacne with your sort," he admitted. "All Orchidians startle so easily."
"I bet all this snow has made the investigator upset," Hanz said, glad to partake in some friendly banter. "Me Nasfereet, nomad from Sand Continent. No name continent cause we numbskull."
Nasfereet frowned and rolled his eyes towards the door. "Shut up."
"Travel same circle every year. Aargh! White sand cold-cold. Yellow much warmer, much deliciouser—oh no."
"Tasteful," commander Allworthy said. Nasfereet had to pull open the other door to allow room for the stoutland's right shoulder. It was difficult for either of the children to see past his mane—he and Aiyee could crawl into it and become lost in the fur. Add in the fact that commanders basically ruled over their assigned villages, and the beast kept growing larger and larger before the children's eyes. Allworthy peeled his lips into a snarl, distorting the stiched-in pattern on the top of his muzzle. "I hope you aren't taking that humor with you to Pathen. Perhaps I ought to make sure you leave it and forget it here." The snowfall stopped, like the snow itself had gasped.
"I am sorry, so sorry," the subordinate whispered, head bowed low to the ground. Unlike the linoone, even Nasfereet, Allworthy bore a special weight. When Bleak looked into his eyes, he remembered that punishers sent pokémon to die. It made him scared all over again.
A moment passed, where the stoutland muled over a punishment. By some miracle, he simply breathed out and sat on the porch. Imagine what he'd do if he caught them playing make-believe, the charmander thought.
Nasfereet nodded to the charmander. "Wait until the commander is finished speaking. Keep your answers short—don't prattle."
"O-Okay," Bleak said.
Allworthy's glare put ten pounds on his shoudlers. "So I hear you have a contract."
"Yes."
"Explain where you came by it."
"I-I was..." he swallowed and chose to point over in the direction of the fields, empty now execpt for the snow. Planted in the middle of the empty plot, attached to an ancient tool-shed, lived the orphans and their denmother. Thirteen children in total, and it was Bleak who happened to be on a walk with Aiyee when they saw the blade... the contract, sticking out of the ground.
"That would be near their home," the investigator supplied for Allworthy.
The commander grunted in appreciation. "And when you found it, how was that day?"
"I recovered from being sick," Bleak said. Aiyee drooped down. "I'm not very strong. The chill that winter almost killed me. Aiyee took me out for a walk, and I saw it, and I got addicted to using it to carve stuff, and my brother had to take it away for a bit because I started..." it felt too odd for a grownup to let him speak for so long. He ran out of words.
A plume of white smoke jetted out of Allworthy's snout. "So the poochyena took your blade. It's a habit of your sort in the beginning, to practice carving patterns on your own skin, or the skin of others. A burgeoning form of a madness. Denmothers and parents often find children like you harming others with sharp objects and take them away. If you like the power, you ought to thank your sibling for taking it first while you adjusted."
He's right! I did try to put a drawing on my own belly... Hope for an explanation made his stomach quiver. Perhaps out of turn, Bleak blured out a question: "what sort am I?" Hopefully his kind was an oprhan, allowed to take his luck, sell discs, and carry out his dream.
In an instant Allworthy crushed it. "A spirit welder. You design the patterns we use in our special equipment. Instant communication between villages, light-sources for dark caves and night-marching, how we choose the punished, explosives."
Bleak gaped. Explosives? It was a far step from melting snow.
Before he knew it, the weavile had looped around his side, leading him onto the porch. Allworthy grunted out a series of orders. "You two take the poochyena home and inform the denmother that..."
"Bleak," Nasfereet said, continuing to shove the child towards the inn's doors.
The name seemed to anger the giant. It made the Bonecrusher furious, too. "He pushed up my schedule. Hanz, Fran, consider yourselves investigators-in-training. You wil escort the spirit welder to Pathen, starting tomorrow, while the weather is fair enough to not murder him."
"What... what?" Bleak dug his feet into the snow, naughtily moving his tail-fire close to the weavile's face to make him slow down. "P-Pathen? What's happening?"
"You wasted enough time living without practice—get this out of my face!" He swatted the tail away, not minding the small fire. There was a reason for Bleak's name. "You need instruction as soon as possible."
"What about Aiyee?!"
They stopped. Aiyee raised his paw, ever-ready to follow his brother, yet no one's look promised he would get to come along this time.
"Can you use a contract?" Allworthy asked him.
"I don't like it," the poochyena admitted. "It makes me feel funny."
All the punishers started moving again. "You will need to say goodbye for now," Allworthy said. "Until you can make the trip on your own. Or become a punisher and prove you're worthy of schooling in Pathen."
"No!" Bleak shouted. "I don't want to go, then!" Realization hit hard and fast. The moment they discovered his blade it was over. He hadn't seen it coming, swept up in the excitement and their respect. Was he an idiot, or a child for a second? He tried to imagine years without AIyee nearby and couldn't get past the morning, where he woke up to his brother's gabbing. Let's do this, and this, and I thought of this all on my own... they hadn't saved the world from Dialga yet.
"Most kids are grateful," Allworthy said, more annoyed than disappointed by this development.
"Apparently I'm not most kids, see if I make a single thing without him by my—"
Allworthy smacked him across the face, sending him sailing into a nearby post. White frills spun around the edges of his vision. Right away, he shuddered and sobbed, sliding down the wood and collecting splinters.
"Talk back to me again!" Allworthy ordered. "Love to meet a single 'spirit welder' with spirit."
Hanz and Fran startled. The cuff curbed their enthusiasm at having been confirmed as investigators-in-training.
The brown-streaked linoone spoke up fast, tail rigid with caution. "U-Um, commander, I believe he will be less resistant, if... well... could you let Aiyee stay with him overnight, please?" He asked, his suggestion crumbling into a plea.
Allworthy let loose an angry snort. "Fine. This dependency is the sun fox's fault. He's made you orphans all into clingy children! You're fortunate, 'welder,' that I don't find enjoyment in striking you."
Aiyee ran to Bleak's side and clacked his teeth in protest. The commander shot down to see the whelp on eye level, and even the brave pup found himself choked.
Numb and confused, Bleak learned just how much could change in an hour. They padded into the inn quietly, villagers starting to speak out loud about their emerging predicament. It didn't help, in the end, that they could hear the punished and his family weeping in a nearby room. He redoubled his own cries, claws still clutched on his mother's bag.