Chapter 8: Midnight Spar

Raskin blinked at her. "What does that mean? And c-can you at least let go of me?"

"Oh, sure," Lyco said, as they emerged up into the bar. "I just wasn't sure if your legs had regained the ability to move."

She dropped him onto the hardwood floor. Raskin winced.

"Lyco? Raskin?" Steela had noticed them at once, coming out from behind the counter. "What's happening?"

Lyco waved a dismissive paw. "It's fine. We just need to talk for a little while."

Steela frowned. "Will you be coming back?"

"Probably not tonight."

The raboot folded her arms crossly. "You need to clean up. That was what we agreed."

"Oh, I'm sure that the zangoose or someone else will help Sid out," Lyco shrugged. She gave Raskin a shove. "Come on."

"Sorry, Steela," Raskin said, giving her a sheepish look. Lyco strode out of the bar before there was time for anyone to argue.

He almost had to run to keep up with the lycanroc's brisk steps. There were few pokémon around at this hour, and the ones who were didn't pay them or the White Entei any attention. It was scant comfort.

"Where are we going?" Raskin asked.

Lyco stopped, scanning the surroundings. They were in a patch of greenery, shielded from the glares of streetlights and buildings. Lyco's scarlet eyes glowed slightly in the darkness. "This should do," she said. "Sit down."

Raskin sat against what felt like a shrub, Lyco moving opposite him. He shivered as a flurry of wind passed. Their apartment was only down the road, but his housekeys were still in the Entei, and he didn't think asking Lyco to fetch them was advisable. Not least because she seemed immune to the cold he felt.

"Raskin," she said. "You are an idiot."

Raskin didn't know what to say.

"You knew before today that you couldn't fight," Lyco continued. "What were you hoping to achieve? Did you think you could just shy away from fighting forever? Just sit back and relax as the money rolled in?"

"I don't know, alright?" Raskin snapped. The lycanroc's words were a punch in the gut—even more so because he couldn't argue with them.

Lyco raised her eyelids. "You don't know."

"It was only on Saturday that this happened for the first time," Raskin protested. "When Sid tackled me. It…"

He stopped, suddenly feeling exposed.

"It what?" Lyco said.

"Why should I tell you?" Raskin said bitterly. "You still won't tell us a thing about your life."

Lyco scowled. But as her mouth opened, she seemed to hold back her words. Her expression softened.

"I want to help you, Raskin," she said. "In a way, it's a blessing this happened tonight rather than weeks or months down the line. It means there's a way back into this for you, if you're willing to take it." She paused. "I assume you still want to be a part of Fight Den."

"Yes," Raskin said, without hesitation. "This feels like the only… really worthwhile thing I've done in my life."

Lyco showed a flicker of a smile. "Good. I want you to be part of it too."

"Why?" Raskin blurted. He paused for a moment—the answer had come out of him without thought. Then, "Why am I important to you? You've never shown anything but contempt for me or Sid."

Lyco sighed, glancing at the floor, then back at him. "I've met very few pokémon that think like you, Raskin. Just what you said then—that you're doing this because it feels worthwhile. You might think that's a common thing to desire. But it's not. Most pokémon are comfortable living out their lives doing regular jobs, getting food and shelter, being able to socialise out of work. That's why, until now, nothing like Fight Den has been put together in all the time that fighting has been outlawed. You want something more than this society allows. So do I."

Raskin blinked. He hadn't known what response to expect, but it certainly wasn't that.

"And as for Sid," Lyco continued, "it's pretty obvious. He's a natural at this. And he thinks like you too, to a lesser extent." She flicked her mane back. "Is that a good enough answer?"

Raskin was reminded of what Lyco had told them in the mine about why pokémon should fight. Her eyes had lit up with the same spark now as they did then. Most of the time that spark it was buried under grumpiness and snappy orders… but it was always there.

"I guess so," Raskin said.

Lyco gave what seemed to be a genuine sigh of relief. "Then please, tell me what's happening to you," she said. "Why you can't fight."

So Raskin did. He told her about the police officers appearing at their door, who demanded that his father come with them. How Raskin had refused to believe his only family could be about to disappear. And after his shouting at the officers failed, trying to grab hold of the lucario's arm.

"It happened so fast," he said. "Just a flash of light from his paw, then the next thing I knew I hit the side of the wall, every muscle in agony. I'd never been in a real fight before. Never really been hit before. Even as a kit, I shied away from that stuff."

"So, when Sid tackled you…?"

Raskin nodded. "I thought I'd buried those memories. It just all came back. The sounds of my dad and the officers, being inside our old living room. The shaking in my limbs. It's like I'm right there. And I still can't stop it from happening." He clutched his head in his paws, then shook it violently, as if the memories were just fleas to be discarded. "Now it feels like this… experience will happen any time I even go near a fight. I hate it! I want nothing to do with it! But… I can't do anything…"

"Well, you can," Lyco said.

"…What?"

Lyco rubbed her face wearily. "Sorry. I don't want to diminish what happened to you. But these memories that are hurting you… you can push through them. It will be difficult, but you can do it. I'll help you."

Raskin glanced at her, surprised. "How?"

"Only one way I can see," Lyco said. "You keep facing this until it can't damage you anymore. After all, this is only a memory. It's—"

"That's easy for you to say," Raskin snapped. "You're not in my head."

Lyco's eyes set alight for a moment, then cooled again.

"Look, I'm not always the best at speaking with…" she gestured a paw vaguely, "...nuance. Nevertheless: can you see any other solution? Because nothing strikes me."

"…No," Raskin muttered. He wanted to bury his head in his ears.

"Then that's settled. Meet me in Oldden tomorrow at about six o'clock. That'll be the safest place for us to practice."

"Practice?" Raskin frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, we'll have to fight," Lyco said. "Fighting is what triggers this memory. Or being hit, to be specific."

"Right, but… I thought you couldn't fight?"

"Not for long periods. I've got enough in me for this. So, six o'clock, yes?"

"I… okay," Raskin stuttered. "Is there no way we could start a little earlier?"

Lyco shook her head. "I'm working tomorrow."

With nothing left to say, she got up and started walking back to the yellow-lit streets. Raskin started following, thought for a moment, then called, "Lyco!"

She whipped her head around.

"I… don't have my housekeys with me. And I don't want to go back to the Entei tonight after what happened. Can we… sit down somewhere nicer for a bit? Just until Sid will be finished."

Lyco's face brightened. Or perhaps it was just the glowing lights from behind her.

"Actually, I've got a better idea," she said. "Let's start training now."

Once Lyco and Raskin had gone, the basement was silent. A tide of heads turned from the stairs the two had disappeared from to Sid. The quilava gulped. What had happened to Raskin? Had Lyco known something he hadn't? What would he do now?

"Um," he said. He looked to the ring for guidance, then remembered that the ring was where everything had stemmed from. Tyler stood alone in the middle of it, his face sheepish.

"I didn't do nothing to him, Smokey. You saw, didn't ya? I don't know what happened to him!"

"Yes, I believe you," Sid said.

The crowd continued to be statues between them. There was only one way out of this that Sid knew.

"I suppose Tyler wins this fight," he murmured—then, finding his voice, "Who'll be next to take him on? He looks strong, so you'd better be up for it!"

There was shuffling amongst the crowd, mutterings between pokémon. Sid frowned. Did I go a bit overboard on Tyler-hype?

He waited a few moments, but no one looked keen to step forwards. His hopeful glances were consistently avoided.

Sid sighed. There looked like only one solution.

"I'll challenge him, then!" he announced, stepping forwards. "Luis!" He scanned the area until finding the zangoose's startled gaze. "You're in charge of this fight. Get on the crates and count us in. You remember all the rules and things?"

Luis was frozen for a moment, then nodded overzealously, as if to break out of his own stupor. "Yessir!"

As the crowd parted to let Luis though, Sid stepped into the arena. He properly considered Tyler for the first time. Then something occurred to him.

"How did you find this place?" he asked, quiet enough so that the surrounding pokémon couldn't hear. "None of us gave you any information. Do you know someone here?"

"Nah, mate," Tyler said, smirking. "I been following you's movements. Seen you come here often. T'was just a bit of deduction."

Sid stared at the nidoran, anger boiling in his stomach. "You followed us? How could you even…?"

"I know what district you're in," Tyler said, shrugging. "Ain't that hard, mate."

Sid was interrupted by Luis's call from the crates. "On the count of three… I guess."

Sid scowled at Tyler. There was no time for verbals now.

Maybe this was good, though. If he could channel this anger into his fighting, he'd be even stronger. Sid thought back to his old grievances with Tyler. Attacking him and Raskin based on nothing but an invasion of space. Charging them exorbitant money because they had to find Lyco.

He growled into the floor. Mister Smokey-Cough.

"One..."

And, come to think of it, even if Tyler hadn't done anything clearly wrong to Raskin, he should have seen that the guy wasn't comfortable about fighting!

"Two…"

Yes, things were different now. Sid had been training hard. He had the will of this room on his side. He was in charge.

"Uh—fight!"

The streets were already dark at this hour, but the city light seemed to grow dimmer and dimmer as they made the long walk to Oldden. It was closing in on midnight. Raskin shivered again.

It was practically pitch-black once they entered the former city. Raskin could only assume that Lyco's years of experience walking the muddy paths were what guided her towards the stark, wooden box she called a house. No stragglers were inside this time when she opened the door, but the rest of the room was as empty as usual, save for a pile of rocks and some hay in one corner. That was until she reached under the hay, pulling out a candle and box of matches. She set the candle on the sill of one of the room's tiny windows, and lit it. The light was meagre, but Raskin was just glad to be able to see again.

"So… what is the plan, exactly?" he said.

"Stand over there," Lyco said, pointing out a spot near the centre of the room. Once he was there, she moved to a few paces away. "For now, I'll just tackle you. If that triggers the same feelings in you as before, try to push them away. We'll see what happens from there."

"Alright," Raskin said, lowering his body into what seemed like a more fighting stance.

Lyco must have noticed his hesitance, for she said, "This is for you, Raskin. It's on you to make it work." She paused. "Also, turn your shoulder into me if you don't want to get hit in the face."

Right. Raskin took a deep breath and did as she said, maintaining eye contact with the lycanroc. Immediately he felt all four limbs tremble, his chest tightening. He willed himself desperately to be stronger, but when he looked up at Lyco again she was already darting towards, her white mane glowing in the candlelight just like the lucario's fist had that day.

And so, he jumped out of the way. It was stronger than him. He didn't need another glance to know Lyco's burning disappointment as he righted himself.

Numerous tackles passed with frustratingly little progress. After the first attempt, Raskin was at least able to stay still before Lyco hit him. But that was far from the end of his problems. Lyco pointed out his trembling body, and how his eyes shut long before she made contact. She barked at him to leap back to his feet after going down. Rather than becoming numb to the response his body gave to being attacked, that anxious state seemed to make itself the norm.

It was to his immense relief when Lyco told him to rest for a moment.

Raskin sat down limply on the wooden floor. Getting a nudge to his head, he looked up. Lyco held out a flask of water to him. "Thanks," he murmured, suddenly realising how dry his mouth felt.

As his pulse gradually slowed, previous worries began surfacing, with even more venom—and justification—than before.

What if this method just won't work? What then? Will I be cast out from Fight Den forever, just because I'm too inept to do the job properly?

Across the room, Lyco clicked her tongue. "I think we should try something different."

Raskin frowned; he didn't feel much like trying anything right now. "Different in what way?"

"Sparring," Lyco replied. She noticed his bemused look, and added, "Like a practice fight. The important thing is that I want you to try attacking. Unlike the tackling, that's not something that you can't… uh…"

"Yes, that's true," Raskin said. "At least… I think so."

"Right. So, you try attacking me now. We'll take it from there. Okay?"

Raskin nodded. He didn't feel much hope, but there were no other options. He walked back to the middle of the room, a few feet from Lyco.

Attacking. He cast his mind back through all the duels he'd watched in the past two sessions of Fight Den. What could he learn from that?

Lots of pokémon attacked with their claws. He had claws, so that could work. There was also the tackling that seemed very popular. Anyone could do that. Although what was the best way—should he be leading with his front legs, like a big jump, or would he get more power going with his side—?

"Oi!" Lyco called from across the room. Raskin's head shot up.

"I didn't ask you to work out the square root of this room's bloody… circumference," she scolded. "Attack me!"

Deciding on a scratch, Raskin stepped forwards tentatively. Almost immediately his anxiety returned, his limbs feeling like they were anchored to the ground. He looked away from Lyco, chewing on his mouth in the hopes that would at least hold his fractured emotions together.

He couldn't do it, not even with Lyco's back up plan. This really was the end for him.

"Raskin?!" Lyco barked. "I'm still waiting!"

He couldn't look up—he knew that seeing the inevitable rage on the lycanroc's face would tip him over the edge.

"Raskin." There was a coldness to her voice this time. "Are you really so weak that you can't even bear attacking me? Is there really that little fight inside you? LOOK AT ME!"

Raskin's head shot up, more out of involuntary shock than anything. Lyco gave a huff of satisfaction.

"You have no idea how good you have it," she said. "You live in a city with beds, warmth, food on demand. Our ancestors had to hunt and scrap for all of that. They would be turning in their graves if they saw what their future had become. And what about your parents? You think your father would be happy that this was the son he went to prison for? Or your mother, wherever the fuck she is. Maybe this is why she isn't with you anymore—"

The world around Lyco disappeared. Raskin sprinted forwards, raised a foreleg and swung at her. She swerved away, then nudged his side with an elbow. Raskin could only flail at the air for a moment before crashing to the floor.

Lyco let out a shriek of laughter. "I knew it was in there somewhere! We just—"

Raskin scrambled up, snarling furiously, and lunged at her. This time he caught Lyco with a leg, but the impact only made her stumble backwards.

"Hey! Raskin, calm down!" She picked up a handful of small rocks and threw them at his face, forcing him back a little. "Calm!"

Raskin hissed through his nostrils, heart thumping. "My mother died when I was still a kit. She fought illness for years. How dare you even suggest that it was because of me—!"

"I didn't know!" Lyco said, holding her paws up defensively. "I swear, I didn't know that. I'm sorry."

"Sorry?! Why are you smiling, then?" Raskin demanded. It took great effort—as well as his better judgement—not to lunge at her again.

The lycanroc's smugness did not waver. "Because you attacked me."

Raskin froze. He suddenly became conscious of what had just happened. Of why they were even here. "I… I did," he said dumbly.

"I knew you could do it," Lyco said. "It just took a bit of… prompting to bring to the surface."

Raskin frowned. He wanted to say that Lyco shouldn't have gone to the lengths she did to make that happen. But if she hadn't, he would be as stuck as he was a minute ago.

"What now, then?" he said.

"What now?" Lyco chuckled. "Well, even though your attacks were… full-blooded, there were lots of mistakes. Especially in the scratch. Do you have any ideas where?"

Raskin thought. He barely remembered the actual movements. Just the raging hatred he had felt in that moment. "...No."

"Okay. This is what you looked like when you used your claws."

Lyco crouched in front of an invisible opponent, then took a comically large swing with one arm that went from her shoulder to almost touching the ground. She stumbled over herself dramatically.

Raskin frowned. "I don't think it was that bad."

"Oh, it was," Lyco said matter-of-factly. "The power of a scratch should come more from your wrist than your arm—or leg, whatever. If you keep a smaller motion, you'll get more power in the attack and it won't make you flail like a pidgey learning to fly."

Raskin nodded, keeping a tired sigh to himself. It sounded reasonable.

"Another thing," Lyco added. "Don't reveal your claws until you're just about to bring them down. Extending them as early as you did made it clear to me what you were about to do, even though you were moving quickly."

Raskin nodded again. He'd have to get more accustomed to flexing his claw muscles… or whatever they were.

Then, thinking over her words, he had a sudden rush of abandon. "Who taught you to fight?" he said.

Lyco froze, her eyes narrowing. "Excuse me?"

Raskin's mind raced to respond. "This teaching of yours… it's very precise. Instructive."

"Is that not what you want?"

Raskin smiled. Snappy. I must be getting somewhere. "I'm just saying, I'd be surprised if you taught it all to yourself."

Lyco scowled at him, but didn't snap again. "My parents," she said eventually. "You could say that they taught me the things I believe in now. Fighting was a part of that."

"How did they teach you?" Raskin said. "Surely you couldn't have fought anywhere in the city."

"'Course not. They brought me here."

"This exact house?"

Lyco shook her head. "I built this one."

An abrupt silence came over them when the lycanroc didn't elaborate. But Raskin wasn't satisfied.

"You never addressed what I said outside the Entei earlier. This stuff about your parents is probably the first personal detail you've shared with either me or Sid. Why won't you tell us anything about you? Can't you see it's curious to us?"

Lyco regarded him levelly. "I think you know more than enough. I don't need to be your friend, Raskin. We just share an ambition."

"But—"

"Enough!" Lyco snapped. "We're wasting time. Get up, and attack me again.

Raskin sighed inwardly. You refuse to talk about yourself, yet have no trouble insulting my family that you've never met, was what he wanted to say. But he knew that Lyco was right—there were more important things to focus on.

What were her instructions to him again? Right, his scratching motion. And don't reveal claws so early.

He stepped up to Lyco, more carefully this time. It was easier to get into the zen-like state of before—he just recalled what Lyco had said, how he had felt, that smug look on her face, and his limbs became unstuck.

He paused for a moment in front of her, thinking through the scratching motion in his head, then lunged and extended and swung. He felt a ripping sensation in his paw, then Lyco stepped back, grunting.

It connected!

"Don't just stand there admiring yourself!" Lyco growled. She suddenly launched herself at him.

Raskin leapt away as fast he could, managing to escape with just a glancing blow to the side of his head. He winced as it started stinging—Lyco had connected with something sharp. But Lyco was already back to her feet, so he spun and tried another scratch, this time with his left paw in the hopes of catching her out.

Lyco beat away his paw with one of her own as it came down. Then her opposite arm lashed out from nowhere, catching Raskin just below the neck. He cried out in surprise, backing away.

Then he noticed Lyco had paused. She was hunched over, seemingly short of breath. Getting an idea, Raskin did another quick mental imagining, then jumped towards Lyco. He intended to lead with his shoulder, as she liked to, but twisted too much and ended up kicking out with his back legs. Even though she swerved away, one of them caught her on the muzzle.

He got a sudden rush of energy at the contact, like a spark of electricity in his bones. It felt… thrilling.

"That's enough!" Lyco said, holding a paw up. "I've been pushing my EFS enough tonight."

It took a moment to Raskin to connect the dots— her Energy Fatigue Syndrome. His excitement faded. "Are you alright?"

Lyco chuckled. She seemed to be grinning, long canines poking out of her mouth. "Fine," she said. "That was much better though. Let's stop for tonight."

The moment Raskin relaxed, he felt his own fatigue like a ton of bricks. They had been going for what felt like at least an hour, virtually non-stop. No wonder Lyco needed a break.

For a second, he allowed himself a private smile. In the end, things hadn't turned out so bad. There was hope for his fighting nature yet.

He moved towards the door. The pitch-black unknowns of Oldden were even less appealing when coupled with the aching in his legs that had just become apparent. He sighed. "This'll be a nice walk back."

"Hm?" Lyco grunted, looking up. "Didn't I tell you? You're sleeping here tonight."

Raskin froze. "No, you did not. How do you figure that out?"

Annoyingly, the edge in his voice seemed to only amuse Lyco. "Well, you said it yourself. It's a long walk from here in your state. There'll be police patrolling the streets too. How d'you plan to explain your presence to them, way after curfew?"

"I…" Raskin's mind didn't seem to be at its usual sharpness.

"And you don't have a day job now, so there's no rush to get back."

"I… suppose," Raskin said, defeated.

He turned back into the room, casting a gaze over the pile of hay at one end that seemed to be the bed. "Is that all there is?"

Lyco gave a frustrated huff, shaking her head. She started pulling an end off the hay. "You know, our ancestors would have given an arm and a leg for a bed like this."

"That doesn't mean I should be happy with it."

"Those ancestors also knew how to fight," Lyco continued. "Maybe you could learn something from them. Here." She chucked the new pile of hay at him; Raskin barely brought his forelegs up in time to stop the bundle knocking him to the ground for the fiftieth time that day.

"If it's not comfortable, try flattening it with your paws," Lyco said, stretching out on the well-worn pile she had left herself. "Oh, and watch out for insects. Night."

Special thanks to Talgoran and Shadow of Antioch for their help and guidance on this chapter :)