Chapter Nineteen:
The Crooked Kind
Disclaimer: I do not own the series Pokémon. Like, at all. It and all its respectable characters are © to Game Freak and Satoshi Tajiri. However, all writing contents and semi-plots here are © to me; unless it is stated otherwise. All shows/ books/ video games/ songs that are mentioned in this chapter are all © to their respective owners, I do not own them.
Notes: Apologies for the lateness. I had a bare-bones draft of this chapter written out and then I had to slap some meat and polish on it before presenting it to y'all. I also nearly lost this chapter into the depths of another folder—but I thought it had been lost for good. I hope this doesn't become a theme for chapters involving gym battles.
I hope it was worth the wait!
Current Team: Keno the Marshtomp, Sela the Poochyena, Ambrose the Ralts, Faye the Taillow, Breela the Shroomish, Luna the Skitty
Badges Won: Stone Badge
Some get dealt simple hands
Some walk the common paths, all nice and worn
But all folks are damaged goods
It ain't a talk of "if, " just one of "when" and "how"
So, collect your scars and wear 'em well
Your blood's as good an ink as any
Go scratch your name into the clouds
And pull 'em all... down
—"The Crooked Kind" by Radical Face
The world was dark and loud and so very big, even if he couldn't see it properly. Oleander was always there, though. His twin was hardly ever out of range, even if he wasn't physically there. They were connected, no matter the distance.
It was the same with his mother. Comfort and protection alike whorled around her presence, sweet and warm and tender. There was love, and nothing but when she was around, and she was rarely ever away, and if she was, it was never for long. Ambrose was never alone, however. His twin brother Oleander was always there right beside him.
Emotion that he couldn't name yet felt all the same bubbled up from deep down, spread out, settled in.
Their mother was the leader of their clan. She held herself with grace and poise, and it reflected in her energy. There was prestige in the way she carried herself, both mentally and physically. Oleander has called her 'regal' in the past and has made attempts to give description to her for Ambrose. He always seemed to come up short and could only finish with a flush of feelings, unspoken but felt. Somehow, those always made a better impression to Ambrose than words every could.
It was like trying to explain what colour the sky was to someone who has never known what colour was in the first place. All he could see was the darkness that made up his world.
He didn't need to see the world, or his mother, to know how he felt when he was around her.
Safe. Protected. Warm.
Simple, yet elegant.
She taught him to see in a different way. To move about as freely as his brother, who could see. His powers matured at a quicker rate as a result. Oleander was always a step behind Ambrose, whose senses were sharper.
What he never had in vision, he more than gained elsewhere. The silent beat of a Beautifly's wings as they danced in the air, teased along by the whisper of a breeze. The flare of a Dustox's newfound psychic energy as it emerged from the prison of a Cascoon's silky twines. The gaping emptiness that was the dark-type Poochyena and Mightyena as they prowled on softly padded paws, sluicing across the forest floor in search of food.
She kept him safe from the others of their clan. Weakness was frowned upon, and any chink in the armour would have sent Viola careening from her position. Having a blind babe would have counted against her. She gave him the whetstone to sharpen his edges, until there was little fear for his safety.
His mother gave him a gift, and he treasured it. It was not the sight she wished for him to have, but it was what she gave him regardless. By the time she could teach him no longer, and he had learned all he could, he had enough grace to move about their little corner of the world without encumbrance.
She told him that when he evolved, his body would change. This, he already knew about. She told him that he would see the world like everyone else. That his vision was simply a late bloom of progression for his body.
"There is nothing you can't do."
Those words were seared into his mind, and he repeats them constantly, because why would he ever doubt his own mother? He believes those words, and the reassurance that he'll see one day, when he evolves, when he grows stronger, when his body adapts to the new changes. These are the words Viola has whispered to him in the past, every night, while she stroked his head and ran her claws gently through his fur, soothing as she did so. These are the words he clings to, and he believes them to his core.
They were ready.
Training lasted nearly a week. They visited the beach and Granite Cave alike, hiking out each morning and returning in the evening. A mess of Zubat, Makuhita, and Geodude were always waiting for them. The cave-dwelling pokémon were always willing for a challenge, it seemed, especially the Zubat when a ruckus was made. The Makuhita would soon follow after to investigate the hubbub. An unlucky Abra made an appearance once, but it quickly slipped away, before a battle and subsequent capture. The Geodude were always lurking, hiding in plain sight.
And then there was the hapless Aron that had stumbled upon them, with a horde of Makuhita hot on their heels. After making short work of the Makuhita, and much like the Magikarp from a week prior, Shay saw the Aron was in need of help. Shay ended up taking the Aron in for medical attention. Before she knew it, she had ended up with yet another potential team member, replenished and waiting in the wings alongside the Magikarp.
The day after the Aron had been caught, they made for the gym. The day they made for the gym, they were stonewalled, told to come back the next day. Brawly wasn't in.
Despite the setback, they enjoyed a day out in Dewford Town. Luna came back to the Center with a silky scarf that boosted her normal-type moves. Shay came back with a series of new piercings in her ears, including those in the cartilage. They ate some takeout, and winded down with watching programs on local television.
The next day, they took off early after breakfast.
They were still ready.
The Dewford Town Gym loomed before them in the early morning light. Despite the early hour, there was a surprising number of people out and about. Some milled about in front of storefronts, while others moved on with their day, wherever it may take them.
Ambrose gently patted Shay's leg comfortingly, the itch-shiver-scratch raking along the back of her skull.
"We've got this."
"Well, you and Faye have this. The rest of us are going to have to sit on the sidelines, just like the last gym match." Luna said with a yawn, her fangs gleaming. Keno frowned at the Skitty, crossing his arms.
"Those rock-types hit hard, Luna. I don't think you would have enjoyed being smashed by one of them." He paused thoughtfully before adding, "And I don't think you'd like smashing into them, either."
Luna's tail twitched, just the tip of it, but it belied her calm. She gave a curt nod in relinquishment to his logic.
"…fine, point taken. I don't imagine I'd appreciate being battered around by any of the fighting-types here much, either." She gave a sigh and tilted her head. "Such a shame I was born a normal-type. I think I would have made an amazing dragon-type, but still as, well, me."
Shay chortled, even as Luna gave her quite a stare that quietly said she was serious as the grave. A brief flash of a pastel pink and cream Luna as a whipcord thin dragon went through Shay's head and the idea was vaguely tempting to attempt later on. But first, she'd need a sketchbook…
With that settled, they forged forward through the doors and into the cool interior of the Dewford Town Gym.
The Dewford Town Gym was an amazingly immaculate gym. It was a literal workout gym. There was a waiting area in the front, where a reception desk and several chairs sat, and a receptionist sat at the desk—taking both new gym members and gym challengers. Behind the receptionist desk, there were corridors that led into the back, and signs overhead indicated they led to offices, locker rooms, a set of spin class rooms, and a massage room. Not far from the entrance, there were a couple of vending machines, filled with healthy snacks, bottled water, and sports drinks.
As Shay gave her information to the receptionist and took the paperwork offered to her to read over and sign, she noticed there were a number of human and pokémon alike utilizing the gym equipment. Machop on sparring mats, Makuhita lifting cattle bell weights, even a Machamp was sauntering about, spotting several people on the weight benches at once.
A series of cycling machines and treadmills and rowing machines were neatly lined up in rows along the farthest wall, which incidentally were pressed against floor-to-ceiling bay windows that allowed anyone passing by to look on in. They were also ringing the pokémon battlefield settled in the middle of the whole damn building. Somehow, it felt smaller than the Rustboro City Gym. Perhaps it was all the workout equipment filling in empty space. Perhaps it was the lower set ceiling in comparison.
Whatever it was, Shay didn't find her eye drawn to it quite as immediately as the gym at Rustboro had. It took time to find the official field, but it was glaring in how empty it was once she did notice it.
She finished up the paperwork and returned to the seating area with her team. They quietly sat to watch as people and pokémon milled about. They went about their workout regiments, while the receptionist filed the paperwork, phoned in a few calls, and then went back to their daily grind.
"Are we going to have to take on that big guy over there?" Keno suddenly inquired, drawing Shay out of her daydreaming. She turned her attention to the Marshtomp, then followed his pointed stare to where the Machamp was, making its rounds and flexing its four upper limbs.
"Oh. No. We won't," she said, reassured that this was true as can be. Or she hoped. Keno seemed relieved at the reassurance, however, and didn't press any further. Sela, however, wasn't as convinced.
"Why not?" The Poochyena was narrowing her maraschino-bright eyes at the Machamp in question, nose quivering as she sampled the air with it.
"We are definitely not in any shape whatsoever to take on a fully evolved fighting-type of that caliber, that's why," Ambrose quipped matter-of-factly, coming to Shay's rescue. His toothy smile fell just a fraction as he added, "Although they could change things up, just to mess with us."
Sela huffed, eyes flashing as she turned them on to Ambrose. "How comforting you are."
Conversation lapsed into quiet tidbits as their wait grew, until the receptionist called to Shay, asking her to go out to the main gym battlefield toward the back end of the gym's grounds. Everyone collected themselves, and as they passed through the staggered yet neat lines of equipment, those in between sets paused to watch.
By the time she and her team reached her designated spot, a referee was already waiting at the middle line, and a ragtag series of bystanders had followed in Shay's wake to come and watch.
With a word from the referee, Shay grudgingly returned all of her team, except Faye and Ambrose, who settled either on her shoulder or by her side respectively.
Within five minutes, she had her first opponent sidling up on the other end opposite of her. It was her obligatory opponent, per the paperwork.
That was the predictable thing.
The unpredictable thing was seeing the Dewford Town Gym Leader himself sauntering out to join the flock of onlooking crowd as it grew. Brawly was, in a conventional sense, handsome. Shay wasn't about to dismiss that fact, but she wasn't about to be drawn in and swayed by it either.
His hair was a tad darker than Steven Stone's, and had a more prominent blue sheen to it in the light. He was lean, athletic, tall (although to be fair, everyone was taller than her, even some freakishly tall children), and looked like he had been one of the workout patrons. He donned athletic-wear appropriate attire with a belt bearing his pokéballs that made him look at home in this very place, just as everyone else did gathering to watch. She fell back on what she knew, and what she knew was this: if he shaved down his head to regulated standards, and slipped on a Marine uniform, he would definitely fit in.
She would even hazard a guess he could complete a PFT and CFT just fine, first class and top-tier, if not perfect scores for both.
'Relax. We got this,' Ambrose's voice whispered, cutting into her cycle of thoughts, accompanied by the faint itch-shiver-scratch along the back of her head.
There was a calmness to both Faye and Ambrose, and immediately, she began to emulate it. If they panicked, she'd start to feel it. If she started before them, she wouldn't be able to come down from it, even if her team tried to calm her. It'd take hours, perhaps the rest of the day and night, to shed herself of the anxiety, and if she could shed herself of any early notions of falling into that pit trap, she'd be grateful to make it through this entire ordeal without freaking.
Keno and a stack of new paperwork had helped her back at Rustboro. It had distracted her. Here, she had an expectation and framework of how things would go down. That made it inevitable to go through, and the anticipation for the actual pokémon battles made it worse, somehow.
Her battles following up were nerve-wracking, heart-pounding, and utterly…utterly forgettable.
They weren't necessarily forgotten, per say, but they were so blurred together, back-to-back, that Shay didn't commit every little bit of every little detail to memory. She was sure if she asked Faye and Ambrose later on refreshers, they'd do so.
When it was time to choose between more opponents, or taking on Brawly after her obligated two opponents, she chose to take Brawly.
The referee, who gave no name, but everyone seemed to already know, gave a curt nod to the expectant gym leader.
The man strolled out onto battlefield to replace Shay's previous challenger, a sprig of a young woman. She looked absolutely crushed, but when Brawly met with her, they paused, he exchanged a few words with her, and when quickly retreated to join the rest of the gathering crowd of onlookers, appearing mollified now.
Faye shuffled on her shoulder, feathers fluffing up and when she shook her head, the tip of her slightly hooked beak smacked Shay's neck. She quietly apologized, and Shay huffed a laugh under her breath, reaching to pat the little Taillow affectionately.
Brawly crossed the length of the field instead of taking his place opposite of her on the end. He was flashing a winning smile at her as he approached, waving briefly to the referee. He had a nice smile when he flashed it her way.
"Impressive work. You really blew through these guys like wet tissue paper. You sure you don't wanna reconsider taking on everyone before getting to me? I'd love to see more of what you have to offer," Brawly said when he was within distance of her. He gave a sparse glance over the shoulder to everyone else.
There were no bleachers in the empty space between the pokémon battlegrounds and the rest of the gym equipment elsewhere, a no-man's land made for just this occasion. Neither were there any platforms from which to stand upon for the trainers. It was all ground level, for all people—battlers and bystanders equally. Pokémon and people alike stood, side-by-side, waiting for the penultimate fight that was to come.
"You sure you don't wanna find out for yourself one-on-one instead? It'll be quicker that way," Shay retaliated, sharp and quick as a whip. The one thing she did notice the entirety of both her previous fights was how Brawly remained quiet, observant as he watched. He was looking for a chink in the armour, she surmised.
That made her all the more nervous. At least back in Rustboro, if Roxanne had been watching her, Shay hadn't been quite aware of it, and she hadn't thought of it until now.
Brawly laughed, drawing her back out of her whorling thoughts. Ambrose gently dug his claws into the material of her pants, pricking her skin from the outside. It was a firm reminder. So was the sweat slowly beading its way down the length of her spine and the slickness of her palms growing more profuse as the seconds ticked by. Her stomach was practically nonexistent, and yet she felt nauseous all the same.
"Ouch. I actually felt that one." Brawly replied with a grin, mirth gleaming in his ocean blue eyes. Plenty of Marines had that same smile. Plenty of Marines were assholes, no matter how handsome or nice-looking they were.
Christ, she was becoming cynical.
'Relax,'came the soft whispered word skittering through her head a second time. Itch-shiver-scratch went the back of her skull. Warmth and comfort spread along from there and down her spine, spreading out along her limbs and settling in her core. 'We've got this. No distractions.'
Shay exhaled slowly, feeling tentative but welcoming calm following up the warmth that had spread throughout her. Whether that was Ambrose's doing, or a product of her own making, it didn't matter in the end. It was welcoming to no longer feel as though her legs were going to collapse underneath her.
Brawly gave a nod to the referee, turned on his heel, and waved to her as he strolled back to his end of the field. "Don't hold back, okay? Show me what you got!"
Faye shifted once more on her trainer's shoulder and huffed. "He's too…happy. I don't trust that. There's Brendan-happy, and then there's fake-happy."
That made Shay want to burst out laughing, and she had to fight the oncoming grin without making it appear as though her face was having convulsions. She ended it swiftly enough by biting the inside of her cheek until her humour faded. When she had calmed at last, Faye rubbed her beak against Shay's cheek and added, "What? I was serious."
Before she could reply, Brawly clapped his hands three times, and the sharp report made Shay flinch.
"Well, all right then! Let's get this match going! Challenger Shay Kenway, I'm Brawly of Dewford Town Gym, and I specialize in fighting-type pokémon. Welcome to my arena! Let's get this party started!"
There was a burst of cheers that erupted from the crowd, a number of people from the crowd throwing their support toward the introduction—and of course, their number one contender to win the match. Brawly waited for the noise to simmer down before he continued.
"Challenger Shay Kenway, are you ready to smackdown?"
"Yippee-kai-yay, motherfucker," Shay remarked softly under her breath, and gave a thumbs up to the man across from her. Brawly's grin seemed to intensify and widen.
With a flick of the wrist, Brawly enlarged a pokéball after plucking it from his waist, and with the other hand, flicked back the sunglasses perched on his head back a little further.
"All right, Mas, let's get going!"
He tossed out the pokéball and in the center nova of light and energy, a Machop emerged, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. The little pokémon was lean and muscular, its skin the colour of slate and it was paired with a strangely humanoid facial structure, beset with burnt-cinnamon dark eyes. It was almost unnerving. The Machop's stubby tail remained stiff and held in an alert fashion while the Machop squared up and began stretching. It didn't look like it was tall enough to go past her hips.
Without so much as a word or prompt, Ambrose sauntered forward. The Machop paused in its butterfly leg stretches, gazing point blank at the Ralts as Ambrose settled on his side of the ring.
The referee stepped toward the midline, and with a curt nod to Shay and then Brawly, he raised his arm upwards. He held it there, suspended for dramatic pause and the crowd seemed to eat it up. A hush fell, and it was so unnervingly silent, the old adage of "could hear a pin drop" would have been accurate in this case. The referee, finally sensing the peak of suspension held long enough, sliced his arm downwards with a shout of, "BEGIN!"
Brawly was quick on the draw.
"All right, Mas, buddy! Let's hit it up with a Leer!"
Even with the sudden eruption of cheers from bystanders sitting on nearby workout benches or standing off on the sidelines, Shay could absolutely hear the scoff Ambrose uttered, and feel his amusement. Mas the Machop offered up its best, glowering away with its wide sienna-bright eyes but the little Ralts didn't so much as flinch. He quietly folded his arms, and even tapped a cloven hoof to show his unaffected, borderline bored, impatience.
Slowly, murmurs began to ripple across the room, too quiet to be discernable yet loud enough to be draw attention. Shay risked a spare glance and saw faces dropping in concern and curiousity alike. Brawly, in stark contrast, didn't appear worried at all from across the way. Shay was quicker on the draw than him when he finally seemed to realize his first attack hadn't worked at all. Ambrose was just as fluid in reacting as soon as Shay let loose the word, "Confusion!"
Psychic energy made tangent and visible built up around the little Ralts' form, coiling and crackling pale lavender and snapped forward lightning quick, engulfing the Machop. Mas flew back by the hit and threw a hand out to control its fall. Mas came to a stop and staggered upright,
barely able to keep the tremble out of its stance.
"Oh! Oh, that was a doozy. Oh, man," the Machop blurted, voice coming out low and even that sounded vaguely male, a broad hand flying to clutch at it—his—head. Brawly's cheerful exterior cracked only slightly as worry finally won over.
"Mas! Mas, you okay, little buddy?"
The Machop gulped down some air and waved a hand in the air at his trainer. "Fine, fine, fine! Just been awhile since we got hit hard by a psychic-type like that." Mas drew himself up and seemed to find his equilibrium once more. His shoulders squared out, his stance widened, and he brought up his fists to bear with determination hardening his features. "Let's keep going."
Brawly was appeased by Mas squaring himself back up and was quicker on the draw, his bellow of "Seismic Toss!" overshadowing Shay's shout, "Confusion!" by several octaves.
Mas was a quick little bugger. He darted in close, and faster than Shay could follow, he had grabbed up Ambrose and tossed the Ralts clear across the battlefield. Ambrose hit the ground hard, and Shay felt her heart give a painful wrench, and air gushed out of her chest as though she'd been the one flung around. Faye hissed in her ear and nipped her ear sharply.
"Focus! He'll get back up, just like he did with that Makuhita! No locking up!"
Shay had to force her lungs to remember how to breathe, relief swelling up inside her like a wave as Ambrose slowly tottered to his feet. She swallowed past the hard pit lodged in her throat when she noticed a particular…shine about Ambrose. Faye seemed to notice as well, as she sat up straight on her trainer's shoulder, alert and focused on the Ralts.
"He's close to evolving. He might just wipe the mats with them yet."
No sooner had the words left Faye's beak, the glow intensified around Ambrose until it engulfed him completely. Perplexity rushed across everyone's faces before it gave way to actual apprehension. The whispers once more started out small, and eventually grew to a hushed tide of outright shouts as Ambrose's form quickly grew. The Ralts was no longer a Ralts, but a Kirlia.
The white fur that had engulfed his entire legs had cropped up to reveal the stark seafoam green under and exposing the delicate cloven hooves beneath all that. The white fur, in contrast, had retreated to his hips, flaring out in jagged tufts. The pale horns atop his skull had changed places entirely, pointing outward from the sides now, while the seafoam green fur along his head had parted, revealing his face in full for the first time.
Ambrose was taller, yet he still retained the lean look he had as a Ralts. Unsteadily, he wobbled on his longer legs, paws tipped with sharp talons held out in front of him.
The smile that graced Shay's lips faded as the itch-shiver-scratch returned tenfold.
Panic. Unadulterated panic and…and fear.
It bled out and spread, like blood in the water; slick, hot, and painful.
She could hear Ambrose shouting in her head, even as he began crying her name aloud. She clutched at her head as the intensity grew until it was all she could hear.
"Shay—Shay, something's wrong. S-something's…something's wrong, I-I can't…I can't see. Shay, why—why can't I see? I should be able to see! Mother, she…she said I'd gain my sight when I evolved! SHAY?!"
Faye bit at her trainer's ear, hard enough to draw blood. The pain, real and physical, startled Shay and she could feel her heart hammering away in her chest like thunder incarnate.
"Get him out of there—" the Taillow began, but her words were drowned by the almighty screech that erupted from the battlefield.
Mas, perhaps on a cue from Brawly, was rushing toward the panicking Ambrose.
"Ambrose—!"
Violent psychic energy whorled around the Kirlia and caught on the Machop. As soon as Mas touched the streaks of light, he was thrust away and clear across the battlefield. His flight was stopped short by a bay window. Cracks splinted across the glass upon impact and the Machop slowly peeled off the surface and collapsed in a boneless heap on the ground.
A frightening hush befell the entirety of the gym. No one moved. Even Ambrose froze, his arm hanging in the air, eyes that were no longer hidden by a thin layer of flesh and fur growing wide as he seemed to feel out what had just happened. The arm slowly dropped away, and the energy that had encased his body vanished without a trace.
The referee overseeing the match turned his head toward Shay, composure quietly trickling over his features. He raised an arm in her direction.
"Ch…Challenger Shay Kenway wins this round."
Automatically, Shay recalled Ambrose, before another word could be spoken. Something hard and heavy settled at the base of her throat, while the feelings of residual terror and distress still crawled beneath the surface of her skin. It was fading fast, but it was difficult to shake off completely, like ants crawling all over her body, it made her prickly all over. Brawly returned Mas without a word, his collective form disappearing into the confines of his pokéball. The fear was slowly trickling back into her, anxiety breeding right alongside it as his face slid away from amusement to careful neutrality.
He's going to cancel the match, she thought, clenching and unclenching her hands. The silence dragged on, and Shay had to resist from jittering on the spot.
By some miracle, Brawly didn't cancel. Instead, the gym leader nodded to the referee, and with that signal, he motioned to Shay and then to Brawly.
"We're down to our last contenders! Are you ready?"
Her hands were shaking, but Shay offered a thumbs up, not trusting herself to talk just yet. The Taillow perched on her shoulder gently rubbed her beak against her trainer's cheek. "Wish me luck, but I doubt I need it."
With that said, Faye took to her wings and flung herself forward and daintily landed on the ground in the battlefield. Brawly managed to regain himself and called upon his second—and his last—pokémon. "Suma, let's get this over with!"
A Makuhita emerged from the confines of the pokéball, just as plump, stout, and sure-handed as the ones that inhabited Granite Cave. This Makuhita bounced on the balls of its toes, shoulders rolling loosely while fists were brought up to bear.
"All right then. Let's keep this match a clean one," the referee said, giving a plainly blunt look Shay's way. Something curled in her stomach at the point-blank stare, turning sour and upsetting. A sharp look from Faye, however, helped her focus.
"BEGIN!"
The word rang in Shay's ears, even as her own boomed out of her mouth, sharp and loud as a crack of thunder.
"Wing Attack! Get in there quick, Faye!"
Suma barely stood a chance, if he did at all.
Faye was too fast, deftly dodging the Arm Thrust attack Brawly bellowed out with laughably frightening ease. She got in close, swooping faster that Shay could follow, knocking the hefty little Makuhita clean off his dancing feet and clear across the battlefield.
Suma collapsed without so much as a hit thrown and landed. Brawly stared baldly at his fallen pokémon. The others mingling along the fringes of the match gaped, and silently turned their gazes toward Brawly. They gym leader said nothing, but the crowd was saying plenty. The referee seemed to remember himself and raised a hand in her direction.
"Challenger Shay Kenway is the winner!"
Strangely, Brawly was…smiling as the words were shouted aloud.
Shay found herself gaping, the words not quite having sunk in just yet, as the gym leader recalled Suma. When he clipped the pokéball back on his waist, he crossed the way toward her, long strides bringing him close in short order. He offered a hand toward her as Faye settled back on her trainer's shoulder. Mute and numb, realization taking longer to sink in the second time around, Shay took up Brawly's hand. He pumped three times, hand squeezing tight. Instinctively, she did the same, and the smile broadened on the gym leader's face.
"Strong grip there! That's good to know. I was starting to get worried." The smile cracked, just a smidge, but Shay noticed all the same. "Look, I'm not sure what happened there earlier, but you might want to get that Ralts—well, it's a Kirlia now, I guess…but you might want to get it in check. It really didn't handle that battle well."
Excuses lined up behind the backs of her teeth, ready to let loose. She had to swallow them back down, one by one, bitter as pills and sharp as bone. Instead, she only nodded, untrusting of her voice until she was sure it would hold steady and firm.
"I'll…I'll keep it in mind. I'm sorry about Mas. He'll be okay, right?"
"Eh…he'll walk it off after a check-up later, I'm sure. He's been tossed around by bigger and much worse, trust me."
Brawly flicked his ocean blue eyes away from her face briefly then back again. Footsteps sounded off behind Shay, soft and practiced, as Brawly moved to reach behind her. Shay sidestepped, allowing him to step forward. Another member of the gym offered a packet to the gym leader and said his thanks to them as he turned back toward Shay.
"Challenger Shay Kenway, that was an intense battle, on a number of levels. You've definitely proven you've got the grit to move forward with the League Challenge. I present to you your hard-won sum and the Knuckle Badge."
Brawly tore open the packet and plucked something out from within. It glittered as it caught light, sharp lines marking the design clear as day. A pin with the motif of a simplified clenched knuckle gleamed merrily at her. Brawly returned it back to the packet and handed the bundle in its entirety to her and offered his hand again.
"You and your team did pretty good—minus the upset, of course. I can't believe it was over that quick!"
There were mild, discontent grumbles from the gathered onlookers, although Shay paid them no heed. She had won. That was all that mattered. Let them whisper.
She had the Knuckle Badge in hand. That was all that mattered.
Two down, six more to go.
"Sorry about your ear."
"Mmm, yes. Because I needed yet another hole in it."
"Your words." A pause as the amusement faded. "You're going to have to let Ambrose out eventually and it should be sooner rather than later."
"What happened?" This came from Keno. Shay, however, was too busy biting back a hiss of pain as she carefully swabbed at the nick in her ear, made by one Taillow's sharp little beak rather than the piercing sting of a Cacnea's needles. After applying some antiseptic cream to the bite, she gently cleaned at the fresh piercings lining the ribbed cartilage of her ears with cleaning alcohol. Those stung less, but it still hurt, nonetheless.
Shay could see Keno staring into her reflection, that frown ever-present as he waited. She motioned for him to follow her and he did so, back into the main room, and she sat on the bed. As soon as she did, the others gathered around her.
"Ambrose evolved during the gym match," Faye finally inputted to the gathering team behind Shay. A flicker of congratulatory remarks was about to explode, before the Taillow finished with, "and then he went mad and flung the gym leader's pokémon clear across the gym. I almost thought he'd go through the glass."
Their looks of adulation melted away. Breela began to tremble and tucked in on herself as best as she could while quiet horror filtered across Keno's face. Sela and Luna exchanged a look with one another, their faces largely neutral, before turning back to Shay.
"Did they…did they kick you out?" Breela's soft voice cut through the silence. Shay flicked her gaze to meet Breela's shy glance.
"No, they didn't. We were lucky."
"We won the Knuckle Badge then?!" Keno blurted excitedly, tiger-orange eyes growing wide as can be with rapturous glee. Luna sat up straight, yellow eyes just as wide and focused; even her tail quit lashing and came to a complete standstill. Likewise, Sela appeared just as attentive, although her bushy charcoal-grey tail began wagging expectantly. Even Breela lifted her stumpy head and tilted it back to peer up at her trainer.
The anxiety that had riddled her nerves earlier was slowly vanishing and was being coated over with the soothing balm of respite. She took out the badge box from her sling pack, and popped it open, showing off the luminous new badge nestled in its place next to the Stone Badge. Faye preened her flight feathers on wing one as they admired the objects, before the mood returned to solemnity.
"What're we going to do with Ambrose?"
"It was a gym battle, and he was allowed to fight…so it should have been all right, right?" Breela said. Faye shifted her weight on Shay's shoulder, pressing briefly against the side of her neck.
"It was…excessive, what he did. If he was fighting for his life against a rival in the wild, or fending off a predator, it would have been excusable."
Something hard settled in the pit of her stomach, twisting it all up and making it hurt as she thought of the panic that had completely engulfed Ambrose. Gently, she plucked his pokéball from her belt and hit the button to expand it, releasing the newly evolved Kirlia. The others gave him space, waiting and drinking in his changed appearance.
Ambrose, in turn, showed off an impressive set of fangs, his clawed hands balled up into fists, his frame shaking from tension unreleased.
He blinked quite often, and off-kilter from one another, likely due to not being used to needing to blink.
Shay slowly lowered herself to the ground, studying the prickly Kirlia as she did. Faye leapt off her shoulder and glided to the ground to sit beside Sela, joining the semi-circle.
"Hey, Ambrose. Is…is everything okay or do you need to talk?"
The curdled expression on the Kirlia's face grew sharper. "She lied. She lied to me and I still can't…see."
He waved a paw in front of his face and a low growl emanated from him. Following the aggressive snarl, a wave of unpleasantness soured the air around them, settling in her skin and making her head faintly ache, an early sign of an oncoming major headache. Ambrose lifted his head, tilting it in her direction, face crumpling in on itself.
"Why? Why would she lie to me? I-I trusted my mother—and I…I don't know—" Ambrose's voice cracked, and he stopped talking abruptly. A low, almost pained squeal hid at the back of his throat, and he could barely keep it contained. His usual composure—slick and self-assured and unruffled—was no longer there. Ambrose was broken to the core at this damning revelation.
He couldn't see. There was no fixing what most likely was a lifelong disability. Ambrose was not a Zubat equivalent unrealized, living the first part in his life blind and his sight would not come to him like it would to a newly evolved Golbat. It was a gut-wrenching, despondent revelation to hit the moment. The very room seemed to drop in temperature, adding to the miserable atmosphere.
Keno fiddled with his broad hands and exchanged a look with Shay. She shuffled forward on her knees, hands held out in front of her, gently tapping the sides of Ambrose's arms. Before anyone could rightfully react, he sank to his knees, his paws unclenching to grip the sides of his head as he collapsed in her lap. His arms, now longer yet still lanky as always, clutched at her tightly as he buried his face in her chest.
Whatever words he spoke were lost in unintelligible garble, but what he felt was projected just fine. Everyone, with the exception of Sela, seemed to flinch and curl in on themselves at the expulsion of raw emotion being expressed via the mental connection he allowed to spill over beyond Shay.
Without prompting, Shay pulled him in closer, one arm tucking underneath Ambrose while the other draped over him. He was roughly the size of a small toddler now, but he slipped in against her with one paw clutching her front and the other draped beneath her arm and snaked around her back. She wriggled—halfway from a ticklish response, the other from mild discomfort bordering pain—as claws easily caught through her clothing and began to prick her skin.
"Easy, easy—claws, buddy—"
The tightening grip lessened fractionally, and the tiny pinpricks of claws retreated, but the pads of his paws remained lodged in place. Shay held him in her lap, whilst the others pressed in close.
For a long while, they remained together as such, a giant ball made up of differing bodies. It lasted for perhaps an hour or so, before the stiffness began to take on uncomfortable qualities and the sun began to dip and shine its dying light across the world before any of them moved.
Ambrose was the first.
"Why would she lie to me? She promised…"
Whatever else he had left to say died on his tongue and he lapsed into exhausted silence. Shay breathed in deep, her grip tightening as she hugged the Kirlia to her.
"I was the guinea pig child in my family. I was the oldest," she started off quietly. "And sometimes…it wasn't fair. What I had to go through, sometimes my younger brother didn't. I didn't understand it growing up and I always thought it unfair. My mom eventually saw it that way, but at the time she did things, she couldn't see it that way. It was like we were being raised differently, and in a way, we were. Sometimes, the things she believed to work, they didn't with me, and she had to change things for my brother."
She was rambling. Rambling without a point, like an idiot. Frantically, she sought for one, feeling her words stumbling over one another until she managed to unstring them and yank apart the ones she wanted.
"But…as I got older, I realized that certain things my mom did was out of love—mostly to keep me from feeling different or other than from everyone else, but…sometimes it didn't help. Long story short, I had a mixed bag as a kid growing up. Outside sources made it harder for her, made it even harder for me, and a helluva lot easier for my brother for a number of reasons. He's been getting better, though, over the last year or two."
The taste in her mouth grew sour and acidic and above all else, stale. Her throat pinched together in a brief moment of emotion.
"It sucked, hard. Okay? It did. It. Sucked. For a long…long time, I really disliked how my mom did or said things. But I learned later that she didn't do it out of spite or for laughs or because she thought she knew everything from the get-go until she found out otherwise—"
"What's your point?" Ambrose interrupted brusquely, his tone flat, fatigued.
"My point is…sometimes our moms want to comfort us. Sometimes, they tell us half-truths—and sometimes, they tell us things that aren't true, but it's unsuspecting or it's to make us feel better, or to not fall into a pit of despair. I don't know your mom, personally, but it's possible that she told you that you'd gain your vision out of hope. Hope for you, most of all. It's possible she didn't know that you'd remain blind for the rest of your life and was trying to reach for the best for you. Reassure you, even if she didn't know for sure herself. Sometimes…its white lies to keep you happy. I've…I've had them all, honestly."
Ambrose said nothing. Neither did the others. The shadows in the room slowly began to grow long and dusky grey as the minutes wore on until they were sitting in shades of darkness seemed to bruise. It remained quiet as time wore on.
Ambrose's grip on her tightened, yet remained careful above all else, realizing his talons were longer than in his previous form. He eventually pulled himself into an upright position, still holding onto Shay as he did. The others gathered around her shifted in accordance, but ultimately, they stayed close, listening, remaining quiet.
"I'm sorry," Shay finally admitted in a hushed whisper. "I'm sorry, I don't have the answers. If you want, I-I can have the center staff look you over, maybe they can help—"
"No."
It was a curt, prompt response from the Kirlia. He breathed deep, and one arm came loose and then in short order so did the other. Slowly, Ambrose collected himself, yet he remained close at hand, unwilling to separate himself from the young woman.
"No. I…I know that this is…this is for life, and pretending otherwise, it would just…keep me in a frenzy. I won't think straight if I start deluding myself otherwise." His breathing was controlled, measured, calculated…strained yet calm. "She wanted what was best and she was…she was trying to give me hope."
"Hope of what? Remaining blind?" Sela blurted out bluntly, only to earn a sharp elbow in her side from Keno. Her yelp developed into an unfettered rumble, but a flick of Luna's tail in her face distracted her long enough to disrupt the pattern.
Ambrose smiled, in spite of the comment.
"Yes, actually. It wasn't what either of us desired, but…she wanted to prepare me. She taught me all I needed to walk the world the way I already was, not in the way I would have if I were like her, my brother, the rest of the clan. But I'm grateful, either way."
The Kirlia carefully got back up onto his feet, wobbling until he was steady. The others, by some unspoken agreement, broke apart from the clustered ball they had all gathered in at the foot of the bed. Shay was the last to get up, and she stretched as she did, feeling some parts of her popping or aching in delight from the sudden use and movement.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…" Ambrose fell quiet. "Will Mas be all right?"
"Brawly said he'd be fine," Shay confirmed. She reached for the lamp sitting on the bedside table and winced as the light seared her eyes before turning back to everyone. "Any of you guys hungry at all?"
A low murmur of consenting agreement wobbled between the team. Ambrose was the last to reply, but there was a trace of a smile pulling at his lips. It was only slightly unnerving now that he had honest-to-goodness eyes that were lifted to her face—even if they couldn't technically see her.
Regardless…Shay was glad that Ambrose had calmed, and he was agreeing to food.
It was when someone refused food or any other creature comforts that things were well and truly going down the drain, one habit at a time.
One thing at a time. One step, small or otherwise, at a time.
Additional Notes: Family's complicated on all sorts of levels.
Now, to lob some info at you once again!
PFT: Physical Fitness Test. It consists of three parts: conducting twenty pull ups (for men) or doing a seventy-second dead-man's hang (for women); achieving one-hundred crunches; and lastly, a three-mile run. The longer you take, the lower your overall score will be. For men, the best and top tier time is around eighteen minutes. For women, it's roughly around twenty-one to twenty-two minutes. The lowest score before failure is roughly around the twenty-eight-minute mark for men and thirty-one to thirty-three-minute mark for women. PFTs are conducted from January 1st to July 31st of a year and are done in skivvy shorts and shirt and running shoes. Exceptions include those who are pregnant or recovering from medical issues (surgery, broken limb, etc.).
CFT: Combat Fitness Test. This test consists of three parts as well: a half-mile run (timed, similar in fashion to a PFT; the longer you take, the lower your score); ammo can lifts (much like lifting weights, but it's done above the head); and maneuver under fire (an "obstacle course" that consists of differing crawls, agility testing, fireman carry of another individual, and ammo can carry). The ammo cans must be thirty-pounds each, and the individual you carry must be within ten pounds of your weight class—either ten pounds up, or ten pounds below (this is prone to change dependent on conditions being met or being compromised). CFTs are conducted from August 1s to December 31st and are done in cammie trousers, blouse (maneuver under fire only), and boots. Exceptions include those who are pregnant or recovering from medical issues (surgery, broken limb, etc.).
