Chapter 5: Soak
Sadistic energy flashed brightly in Clefable's eyes, cracking her muscles like thick piano chords. Pikachu could have sworn that Clefable was a fairy-type pokemon, but upon seeing Clefable's protein gridiron, he was convinced that he was facing nothing less than steel. In order for Pikachu to surpass this monster, he had to go over and beyond. He had to surpass not only Clefable, but his own limits as well. As Clefable approached, he readied his body. "Bide," Pikachu said confidently.
"Meteor mash" roared Clefable, and mashed Pikachu into paste. Iron upon iron, steel on steel, and Pikachu was no more. Thunderous blows, like a deluge of fist raindrops upon a clear lake, showered Pikachu into a tomato puddle.
To Pikachu's chagrin, he could not return the damage he received back due to his limbs being in liquid form. The new challenge of standing up daunted him. Scooping up his melted fingers with a leftover ketchup bottle, he used his newly reloaded weapon and squirted the bottle. Broken fingernails, coagulating blood and a wedding ring flew in the air in an orbiting fashion and touched down upon Clefable's open mouth. The stew of bodily fluids decided to take residence in the throat and lungs, and began to establish a traffic jam for the oncoming oxygen. Clefable took a hearty gulp and regained all health.
"Impressive. A Water-type. To think that you were a Pikachu with the Color Change ability, allowing you to match the properties of the blood on my hands." said Clefable, as another ape-like slam crashed into Pikachu's liquid body. Pikachu had long since transcended the mortal coil and rust-red blood clouded his vision like a fine mist, yet he felt at peace. "Is this evolution?" thought Pikachu in deep and abject darkness, he no longer felt the weight of his body nor the ache of existence. The night wore on, long and dry, the caves echoing with Pikachu's hollow cries and the dull sound of bones being ground to powder.
Skratch woke up in a daze. Two weeks have passed. Despite the fact that his body was covered head to toe with snake bites, and his wallet was missing, he felt oddly refreshed. Being careful not to awake the sleeping Arbok that had claimed him as their property, he crawled out of the den to gauge the current situation. His phone was gone. His wallet was gone. Perhaps he could find some unfinished Bonsly back in Mt. Moon. New motivation in tow, Skratch re-entered the cave, his beloved master completely vacant from his mind. Immediately upon reentry, he began to hear what sounded like the beatings of a drum. What a soothing, melodic rhythm, thought Skratch. Mesmerized by the music, he followed the sound, his footsteps marching in beat with the tempo (a brisk sprint). Three and a half steps later, he entered a familiar chamber, sunlight pouring down from a jagged hole in the ceiling, spiraling down majestically. The light and warmth landing like a spotlight in the center of the room, the source of the music.
Standing in the spotlight with its broad back turned towards the entrance stood a towering shogun, beating a drum of stone with what seemed to be a yellow rag. Skratch marveled at this force of nature, a reified volcano of energy as its thick arms drummed a Danse Macabre upon a scarlet floor. However, something unpleasant stirred within Skratch, as if this divine miracle held a more sinister face. Skratch gave the figure a dreadful stare and was suddenly aware that this was no simple shogun, but in fact his sworn enemy Clefable. He squinted at the rag in hand, which was a supersonic blur as it struck the stone with inhuman speed, and realized it was dear Master Pikachu, now a hybrid water/rock type. It had been two weeks.
The drumming continued, faster, faster than ever before; a thunderous roar, peal after peal of insane volume. Pikachu ceased to be a blur and had become a singularity, a line, in the hands of Clefable. Something is wrong, thought Skratch. He began to sweat, thinking desperately of a way to save Pikachu. He took a step. The tempo increased. He took another. It increased yet again. He took one last shaking tremble. Clefable began a 9/5 polyrhythm and could've cracked concrete. Skratch knew he had been caught. Nonetheless, he had to try.