Chapter 20: Bristle's Memory - A Withering Rose


"No, no, no!" her mom's shouts dripped with her frustration. "I just don't get it! It's fairy! One of the easiest sources to learn. Yet you've gone backwards as much as forwards with it!"

They were back again in that lonely courtyard. A place which, by all accounts, should have been a place of serenity and peace. Beautifully tended, free from the crowds, and practically her home after all these years. Yet lately, more and more, the garden just made her anxious.

Because more and more, she couldn't keep up. She was no longer carrying Team Pride on their excursions. Even she had to admit that. And her mom's training was feeling increasingly impossible.

Roselia's mother stepped over and stood directly beside her, stretching out a bouquet. "Whimsy. Fun. Stop worrying. Stop caring. When you attack with your fairy source, just forget everything else and enjoy it."

Roselia watched her mom's face as the frustration momentarily melted away, replaced by a smug grin. Specks of burning light began to manifest within her bouquet, glowing brightly before flying out like a volley of shrapnel. The motes of light crashed into the trunk of a tree and exploded like a series of firecrackers, leaving burn marks on the bark where they'd struck.

Her mom turned back to her, and that sudden cheer faded as fast as it had arrived. "Just let go, and let out a dazzling gleam."

Roselia hid a growl from her mother before stretching out her own bud. That was the hardest thing that could have been asked of her right now. Let go? How was she supposed to let go when she was falling so far behind? Her mom was so obviously disappointed in her, yet she was supposed to just let that go?

Roselia stood there, bud held out like an imbecile, trying desperately to 'let go' as her mother's evident impatience grew deeper and deeper. The tapping of her foot, the pacing back and forth, her thorned whips licking at the air eager to do anything besides watch Roselia fail.

After ten minutes of nothingness, her mom let out an enormous sigh. "Let's take a break," she grumbled, more for her own sanity than anything else.

Roselia let out a sad nod, spirit weighed down by defeat. She couldn't even learn a simple source…

"Our lovely guildmaster wanted to speak with me today. And by speak with me, I mean almost certainly lecture me on something." Her mom rolled her eyes. "After that, I'm going to try and find your father and see if he has any ideas. Maybe Faith can talk to you," she mused. "One of the few fairies I know with a head on their shoulders."

"What should I do until you're back?"

"Get some lunch and we'll meet back here in two hours."

Roselia nodded again. "Understood."

She made her way up to the cafeteria, and into the lunch-rush crowds. Nearly the moment she stepped into the mess-hall, it began. Ever so slowly, eyes drew into her gravitational pull, and whispers flew.

Bristle. Bristle. Bristle. The word echoed through the room in hushed tones.

Hearing her newly-chosen name felt weird to her. But as Gible had warned, the moment her mother had heard it, the rest of the Crest knew it within a week. And if any of them had managed to forget the enigmatic Roselia, then they had suddenly all remembered.

Bristle ignored them all and pushed her way to the meal line. They'd return their attention elsewhere as soon as they'd finished sharing whatever the ridiculous story-of-the-month about her was.

She shook it off and waited in line, pointedly ignoring the curious glances of the Pokémon in front of her. The Machoke manning the line fetched her a meat platter, and she began searching for a seat.

Usually she'd just take her meal up to eat with her parents. Or at least find an empty table. But their sudden break had left her in the mess hall right at lunch rush. There wasn't an empty table in the place.

Sighing, she approached a Sneasel and a Torkoal at a mostly free table.

"May I eat here?" she asked flatly.

The two looked up at her in shock. After a moment the Torkoal tilted her head. "Yeh. Of course. Yer… Yer, eh… 'Bristle' right?"

Bristle nodded as she set her food on the table and sat down. A vine emerged from each bud and twisted around her meat, thorns beginning to protrude. She started to rend it into chewable pieces with the sharp coils.

Her tablemates, as expected, inspected her thoroughly. Torkoal eyeing her thick vines and sharp thorns appraisingly, as Sneasel tried to dissect the enigma in her face.

There was an awkward silence in the air as Bristle chewed hurriedly on her meal, desperate to escape the uncomfortable atmosphere.

"Feh, forget it. I'm sorry, but I'm too curious, and this is my chance." Torkoal finally stamped her foot. "What's up with ye? Is it true ye train all day, every day? Is it true yer supposed to replace the guildmaster? Ye live here, yet almost no one knows a thing about ye! It's weird!"

Bristle continued eating her food for a moment, working up the will to respond. When she did, she let out a sigh.

"No, I don't train all day. No, I'm not here to replace the guildmaster." Bristle rolled her eyes emphatically at that rumor. "And- "

The word had already left her tongue before Bristle realized that she had no idea how to answer that last point. No one knew a thing about her… Except, that was, for the countless rumors and hearsay.

Here she was, with the free time and the opportunity to mingle with her future coworkers, to set the record straight, and she still wanted nothing more than to get out of here as fast as possible.

But that was because of the rumors though. She couldn't talk to anyone but the elites without getting these eerily reverent glares. Without getting a hundred stupid questions. Even if she'd try to turn the topic to delving, she'd get bombarded with questions about her own pitiful D-class exploits, and had to fight just to hear about her conversant's real missions.

"Because there's nothing worth knowing about yet! I've never done anything past a D-class!" Bristle spat out vitriolically, smacking the table angrily with her bud. Then she froze, aghast at her own outburst.

Her tablemates cringed at the sudden hostility. Torkoal quickly regained her composure though. "Ain't ye like, eight years old, or something? I think the fact yer going on missions at all is pretty blasted interesting. Most people ain't allowed to join the crest 'til ten. And those lots tend to be useless anyways."

Bristle gaped at the Torkoal. She quickly corrected her expression, hiding that shock behind a cold glare. The turtle had somehow turned it around and made her failures into another feat.

Shaking her head in frustration, she picked up her tray and turned, refusing to look at either of them. "I need to get back to work. Thanks for letting me sit here."

She escaped before they could reply, throwing the remains of her meal into the trash pit and making back for the guildmaster's courtyard. She could rest after she had mastered dazzling gleam.

Because the lie that she was something special was already planted in everyone's heads. She'd become an imposter to her own identity. And now the only thing she could do was live up to that lie. To become what her fate, what her lineage, and what her mother's efforts had all aligned for her to be.


Bristle's mind was still racing as her dad carried them through the front door of the mission hall. Her entire body was flushed with a panic she'd never felt.

In all of her delving, a dungeon had never claimed her before. And that had been close. Far too close. For the first time in nine years, her parents had to step in and save her.

Thorn offered Bristle a look which was a competing mix of sympathy and disappointment, as her father lumbered up to the mission recording desk. He opened his mouth to speak to the Espeon who managed it- only to pause as he noticed the other figure behind them.

Ithycus leaned on the desk, with one claw against his chin, and an exceptionally unamused expression on his face. Brutus only endured his disappointment for a moment, before the guildmaster's eyes turned up to Thorn with full fury.

"Team Bunker," he uttered in greeting, with a cordiality that didn't match his visible anger. "Back from your mission already? A complete success, I'm certain?"

"...Yes," Brutus muttered, the small hint of guilt all too audible in his booming voice. He turned his eyes to Espeon. "Fathom Vortex, request of Kingdra. Mission success, client has been notified," he reported.

"Oh, how interesting," Ithycus growled. "A B-class mission? I haven't seen you two dip so low in quite a while. Must have been looking for an easy day."

Thorn's eyes narrowed, starting to understand what was going on. But as usual, she wouldn't shy away from the guildmaster's challenge. The tiniest hint of a grin curled on her lips. "I suppose so. It was a bit drab now dear, wasn't it?" She patted Brutus's head affectionately.

"Right. And you just so happened to pick up Bristle the moment you stepped back into headquarters, before reporting your mission, right at the front desk?" he hissed, at this point addressing Thorn exclusively.

She shrugged. "Actually, she followed us there. I told her she wasn't supposed to come on this one."

For a moment Bristle was offended that her mom had thrown the blame onto her. But reconsidering, Bristle wasn't a true member of the Crest. The guildmaster had no authority over her, so he couldn't do much to punish her for it, which couldn't be said of her mom.

Thorn continued, "But I can hardly blame her. She's bored. The missions she can do are all-"

"Shut up," Ithycus cut her off cooly. He pointed upwards. "Both of you. My office, right now."

Thorn gave him an icy glare, but stayed quiet. She turned to Bristle. "We'll meet you upstairs when we're done talking to the guildmaster, dear."

Bristle nodded obediently and leapt down from her father's back. She cast a nervous glance at the guildmaster. She'd never seen the Sceptile so visibly angry. But even as she stared right at him, Ithycus refused to meet her gaze.

The trio disappeared for the stairwell, and Bristle and the attendant Espeon exchanged nervous looks. Before she knew it, she was following them up the spiral.

Bristle stayed far enough below that she could just barely hear the echo of her dad's thunderous footsteps. The trio above walked in an uncomfortable silence. She hardly knew what she was doing, chasing after them to eavesdrop. But between Ithycus's uncharacteristic loss of temper in the mission hall, and the deliberateness with which he refused to look at her, she had the dreadful sense this was about her.

She heard the door to his office slam shut, just as she reached the peak of the stairwell. She slinked quietly through the elites' meeting room and placed her head to the ground, to peer through the crack at what was happening.

The almost tangible unease in the room hit her as soon as she looked in. Ithycus sat cross-legged behind his desk, practically vibrating with tension as he tried to find the words to begin. Brutus had sat at rest on the floor, the guildmaster lacking a mat large enough for him, and Thorn rested on his back as usual.

"Do you know what makes me the maddest?" Ithycus finally asked, voice cold as ice.

"That we let Bristle into a B-class dungeon?" Brutus quickly croaked, before his mate could make the situation worse.

"Just one?" The Sceptile glared accusingly at him. "I know you've taken her into them a few times now. But no. I'm mad about that, but that's not what's making me the angriest. Care to guess again?"

The silence in the room was palpable. Even Thorn knew better than to test the guildmaster with a snarky response right now.

"What makes me so, so angry, is how little effort you've put into hiding it." His face curled into a nasty snarl. "You walk in and out of the mission hall with her in tow, looking shaken up from stars-know-what going wrong. You can't even concoct a better lie for me than 'she followed us', as if you two aren't capable of controlling a nine-year-old.

"You two just flaunt the rules, right in my face. Because I've let you. I'm positively seething at you two, but I'm even angrier with myself." He turned his head skyward and muttered a curse. "I should be ashamed."

Ithycus's head snapped to Thorn, eyes sharp with loathing. "When this all started, I was afraid to wield my authority. You two had been delving longer than me, and I felt like an usurper to my own position. And maybe I am, considering how badly I've failed to keep you under control! And now you think you can just do whatever you want, and there won't be any consequences because I'm too weak to do my job. And that's on me!" he jabbed a claw into his own chest.

"No more. From now on you two will be following all of the rules, to the letter. I will put a leash on you two if I have to," he hissed. "And that applies to your daughter, too. From now on, she's being treated like the civilian she is."

Renewed panic shot through the Bristle outside the door. If she couldn't do missions- if she couldn't use the training fields- if she couldn't work with her mom… Everything was doomed. She'd never catch up. She'd be a failure forever.

Before she knew what she was doing, she had thrown the door open, to the surprise of everyone inside.

"That's not fair!" she cried. "I've been doing missions for years now! You can't just suddenly declare me a civilian!"

Ithycus winced, all the vitriol draining from his face as he saw the girl. "Oh, straight into the blasted void… Why are you eavesdropping on this of all things," he muttered. "You are a civilian, Bristle! You're nine years old. You should have spent this time playing with the other kids, not going through a regiment even Cindren would call too much."

Bristle pushed the rest of the way into his office, destroying any pretense of her being excluded from this conversation. She marched right up to his desk and glared up at the Sceptile with burning conviction.

"I've worked hard for this! Harder than plenty of the Pokémon here. And I'm better than many of them, too!" She met his eyes with a look that challenged him to deny it. "You're going to take everything away from me, just because you're mad at them?" Bristle growled, pointing a bud at her parents.

Ithycus stared down at the girl in awe. Slowly that awe turned into a look that was almost fearful. He shut his eyes. He released a heavy sigh, and his posture slumped.

"Very well," he muttered in defeat. He opened his eyes again, refocused, and met her challenging glare. "You're right. I should have never let this go so far, but what's done is done. Taking everything you worked for isn't fair. So I will grant you one final exception, Bristle.

"On account of your extensive experience, I will allow you to join the Crest prematurely. However, you will be joining properly. From that point forward, you will be expected to follow all of the rules, and will be treated as any other rookie would."

Bristle scowled, but nodded in agreement.

Beneath her adversarial posture, though, Bristle was positively beaming. The guildmaster had phrased it like a punishment, but in truth it was the greatest freedom he ever could have given her. As a proper member of the Crest, she could finally move up. She could finally prove herself capable of missions beyond D-Class.

"Now, I'd like to ask you to please leave my office while I finish speaking to your parents. And I advise you to know that as an actual member of the Crest, eavesdropping will be met with disciplinary action. Speaking of…" His glare turned hostile once more as it shifted over to Team Bunker. "You two! Let's discuss your disciplinary actions, shall we?" he hissed. "Then, I take it you can explain to your daughter how the entrance exam will work?"

Thorn looked like she'd been slapped at the mention of "disciplinary actions". But with a nasty snarl, she pushed her anger down. Even she knew it would only dig them into a deeper ditch here. "Yes. We will," she hissed.

Casting Bristle one last regretful glance, Ithycus nodded her off, and she left for their room to await her parents' return. In spite of the toxic atmosphere she was leaving behind, her mind raced with excited fantasies of her upcoming induction. This was finally her chance.


Bristle had never seen her mother quite so angry as when Team Bunker returned to their room that evening. A dozen thorny tendrils seeped out of each bouquet, snapping about as they searched desperately for someone to strangle. Worse yet, she had deigned to touch the ground- storming in on her own two feet rather than upon her mate's back.

"Since you seem so interested in B-Class missions lately, how about you stick with them for a month?" she mocked the guildmaster, throwing off her bag in an outrage. "Well the joke is on him! If he wants to waste our team on nonsense for a month, it's the Crest that suffers!"

"I'm a bit more concerned about the increased taxation, dear," Brutus gave a defeated groan. "I'm surprised this didn't happen earlier."

Thorn wrenched his saddlebag off and threw it into the corner of the room in a tantrum. A sickening squish confirmed she'd just ruined a few good berries.

"We wouldn't break the rules if the rules weren't stupid!" she grumbled. "Bristle has completed more than enough missions to be silver rank by now, so why does she have to keep performing useless rookie missions?"

At the mention of her daughter, Thorn's eyes lit up with awareness. She turned to face Bristle on the bed. "Right, forgot you were back here already!"

"You guys got in a lot of trouble?" Bristle asked guiltily. Perhaps if she'd played along with their lie more, they may have gotten off easier.

"Nothing more than we deserved," her dad grumbled, collapsing beside her and raising a leg in invitation for her to lean against him.

Thorn snarled and stared out the window. "It doesn't matter. The penalties will be behind us before too long. But you…" Her mom spun to her, sudden mania washing away her outrage from mere moments before. "You're going to join the Jade Crest!" she beamed.

Bristle smiled and gave an eager nod. "Yeah! Finally…"

"I assume you've already heard how the entrance exam works from the rookies?"

"Yeah. I just need to make it to the rift of a dungeon, right?" she asked, sitting up excitedly.

Her mother nodded, and walked over to their storage bins. She pulled out several in turn, a handful of vines sifting through each of them. Eventually she found what she was looking for in the very bottom of one of the lowest bins.

She handed the small glass phial to Bristle. "You capture a bit of smoke from the rift in there, and return it as proof. You can't dawdle though. Smoke from the rift will disappear after a few hours."

Bristle took the phial in a thin vine between her petals and examined it. "It's just… any rift? Why is it so easy?" she asked with a frown.

Her mom just rolled her eyes. "The standards for rookie teams are not high. But, I was thinking…" Her grin widened to positively devilish proportions. "It doesn't have to be so easy, you know?"

"What does that mean?" Bristle tilted her head.

Her father shifted uneasily on his bed. "Thorn, dear… Let's not test him any more…"

She snorted and waved a bouquet dismissively at her mate. "I'm not testing anything. I checked down in the mission hall what the rules and requirements for an entrance exam are. The only dungeon restriction is against unclassified dungeons. Do you get what I'm saying, dear?" she asked Bristle.

It took a minute for Thorn's point to register. "The dungeon doesn't have to be D-class," she muttered. "I can choose any dungeon I want."

Thorn nodded with a manic glee. "And I think I have just the one for us. Come here, dear." She gestured her daughter over to where their dungeon map hung on the wall. "Just a few hours north of here… are you familiar with this dungeon?" She prodded a single thorn into a spot on the map.

Bristle read the label, "Mute Fissure", and squinted as she tried to recall. "I know it's a bit famous, but I don't remember why."

"Well, its fame is a bit irrelevant. It used to be a seclusionist monastery. Lot of fighting and psychic types would travel there for months of isolation from the outside world. Meditation. All that fighting-type mambo jumbo," she said dismissively.

"When the mysterious force claimed it, it was a huge deal. Whenever a populated area gets hit, people are all worried about 'what if it's my podunk town next'. They panic for a week and then forget about it, and nowhere particularly important ever actually gets claimed." She rolled her eyes.

"But the reason it's interesting to us, is because it's the perfect target. B-class, so a rookie would never dream of taking it on without a team. Plenty of psychic-types, so no one could claim we relied on your type advantage. And it's just barely close enough that you can make it back before your smoke dissipates. And best of all…" her enormous grin returned, "It's totally valid under the Crest's rules."

Bristle faltered a bit at the thought. Her excursions into B-class dungeons had been spotty at-best so far. There was a reason rookies weren't allowed in them. And they were generally reserved for after delvers had formed teams. Holding her own in them had been a desperate struggle each time.

Even the guildmaster seemed to view her admission as inevitable, but if she did something like this…

"I… what if something goes wrong?" she asked slowly, barely daring to meet her mother's gaze. "You saw what happened today."

Thorn's expression visibly dropped into disappointment. "If something went wrong, you could always retry. There are no restrictions, unless you're barred. But it won't. You won't let it." She put her bouquets on Bristle's shoulders consolingly. "That blasted lizard thinks that everything we've worked for was a mistake! If you clear some D-Class trash and then continue along like a perfectly ordinary rookie, that would just prove him right. All of our sweat and tears, and you'd be no different than anyone who started at ten.

"We've done better than that! We'll make sure you have the best gear we can give you, and we'll plan out strategies all night. You've got my spirit in you. So I know you won't fail us now."

The truth seeped into the back of Bristle's mind- this was about Thorn's own pride. For almost every moment Bristle had spent training, her mother had been there with her, molding her. So now, how she performed was as much a testament to Thorn's work as her own. And Thorn was not prepared to lose her spat with the Guildmaster on this point.

But all the same, her mother's faith reignited Bristle's spark. She'd do this for both of them. "Tomorrow?" she asked.

Her mom smiled at her. "Tomorrow."


Mute Fissure Quadrant 1

Bristle gasped as soon as got a view of the dungeon. It was very rare that the mysterious force ate up a Pokémon-built structure, yet the force clearly knew how to incorporate one. The fissure itself was a massive chasm in the earth, stretching forever down into the dense fog that cloaked the bottom. Whether that was a natural feature of the fissure, or a flourish of the dungeon, Bristle couldn't say.

But far more breathtaking than the natural geography was the shifting structure that weaved throughout the side of the cliff. A long series of enormous balconies and brick-lined plateaus, reaching out from cubic towers that implanted themselves in the cliffside. The architecture stretched off into the horizon, and would have been impressive already, even before considering that it was all moving. The plateaus stretched and warped across the chasm like slugs, in one moment thrice the size of the previous. Towers sank into and out of the walls like they were nothing but mud.

She stepped forward, climbing up a short flight of stairs as the cliff-side structures settled into one unique design, which no one else would ever see, as she approached. The flat field now in front of her looked like it may have once been a sparring ground, but no one waited here now. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw light from the tower windows.

Apparitions. Many of them, all peering out the windows, watching her. But not attacking.

As soon as she stepped foot onto the sparring field, a single Mienfoo leapt from the window and walked calmly towards her. If not for the burning light in its eyes, and the inky warping of its colors, she might have mistaken it for a real Pokémon.

"Duel me," it said, its voice entirely devoid of emotion.

Bristle recoiled a bit in surprise. Apparitions speaking wasn't unheard of. They were never intelligent, but in certain dungeons specific behaviors or certain phrases could be burnt into their nature. As with most dungeon oddities, it became more common in deeper and more dangerous dungeons. So of course, she had never seen it before.

She nodded, and entered a fighting stance on her side of the field. The other apparitions still stared blankly from the windows without attacking. It was easy to guess what might happen if she broke their rules.

As soon as it stepped onto the other end of the field, it locked eyes with her and charged. Still brimming with determination, Bristle fired a volley of poisoned thorns, the barbs sinking into the apparition's face without it paying them any mind. It leapt into the air and swung its fist towards her, shattering the stone as she leapt out of the way.

She let loose a coil of thinner vines that wrapped around its arms and neck, digging thorns into its veins to suck the nutrients right out. But rather than recoiling or trying to throw her off, it ignored that too and kicked her square in the chest.

She howled and staggered backwards, releasing her grip on it. Stupid of her, trying to make a fighting type flinch. She needed to use the thing's recklessness against it and let it exhaust itself just trying to get a clean hit.

It tried to punch her again, and she weaved out of the way, now playing defensive. She kept dodging backwards, littering thorny spikes onto the ground as she retreated. The frenzied Mienfoo continued stepping through them mindlessly, tearing gashes on its feet that spilled out a trail of blood along the floor, all without any reaction.

She kept dodging for a few moments, letting it waste energy and bleed out until she felt ready for the kill. Sprouting a sharp thorn in her bud, she ducked under another punch and stabbed it into the apparition's chest, raking it through them like a claw.

The Mienfoo clutched its chest and stared at her for just a moment before melting away. The trail of blood it had left behind suddenly seeped into the ground. And one by one, the eyes watching from the windows flickered out. She was safe to proceed.

Bristle stepped forward nervously. If the apparitions would come to her like this, there was no reason to rush. She could move slowly and let her wounds heal between them. But that Mienfoo was already on another level to the D-class apparitions she was used to, which often fell in a single blow. And this was only the first quadrant.

She absolutely hated these feelings of doubt. Mom didn't doubt her. Because this was fate, wasn't it? So why was she doubting herself?

Still trying to shake these thoughts, she climbed up the stairs as another sparring field appeared in front of her. As soon as she stepped onto it, a Hitmonchan leapt from the nearby tower and called out.

"Duel me."


Mute Fissure Quadrant 10

Bristle was scared now. She'd made it this far, but only by luck. She'd had to have dueled dozens of apparitions by now. Sometimes, against the spirit of a duel, several at once. And since about the seventh quadrant, she hadn't been in control. Every fight was coming within a claw's length of defeat, and if things got just the tiniest bit harder…

But she was doing it, through sheer determination. This was the final quadrant now. She was still slowly recovering from a recent "duel" with a Lucario apparition, which had her half-unconscious in the dirt before she'd unloaded most of the contents of her bag onto it in desperation. And even then, the victory was narrow.

Now she stopped on the precipice of another sparring field, bag devoid of supplies, trembling with anticipation, and certain that any foe she met now could be her end.

She gulped and stepped forward- but stopped herself when she saw something in the distance. A shiny gateway just beyond it. The end of the dungeon. This would be her last duel.

She breathed deeply, and stepped onto the field. Then she groaned when she saw what emerged.

Like every one before it, the Medicham apparition took its place on the opposite side of the field, and commanded her to duel it.

The last psychic she'd fought had been three quadrants earlier, and it had very nearly ended her exam. Sheer luck had pulled her out of it. And this one was surely stronger. Not to mention she had less sup-

Medicham forced her out of her thoughts by leaping forward, foot outstretched. Bristle planted her feet firmly, formed her vines into a thick whip, and smacked the Medicham as hard as she could, trying to knock it from the air.

It stayed upright, but that threw it off its course. It tumbled to the ground, smashing its knee into the stone but rolled up to its feet and immediately dove at her again. It reared back its head in an eerie purple aura and slammed it down on her before she could move.

Bristle screeched as the psychic energy reverberated through her, neutralizing the natural toxins which her body relied on. Scowling from a pain that spread all throughout her, she stumbled back and steeled her focus as Medicham swept at her feet. She leapt over the low kick like a jump rope and launched a shadow ball into the apparition's face.

It was Medicham's turn to recoil as Bristle regained her footing. She needed to get distance- her foe held all the cards in this range. She backpedaled away, stealing a longing glance at the quadrant boundary behind her, still shining tantalizingly in the sunlight. Tempting her to just run.

WHAM!

Bristle skidded across the ground, shards of ice flying loose from her jaw the whole way. She managed to lift her head to see Medicham running straight for her, a frigid air around its fist dispelling. Even her fleeting moment of distraction had been too much.

Her body screaming in protest, she flopped to the side just as a foot stamped down where she'd been, cracking the bricks. Cursing she leapt to her feet, only to get backhanded right back down into the dirt. The apparition was too fast and too savage. She couldn't get any space to act.

A vine shot into her bag as she fell, desperately scouting for anything useful. She had no healing berries left, no blast wands. Even her precious joy seed had been spent a quadrant earlier to save her from failure.

There was a hideous tear as Medicham's foot connected with her jaw as she wasted time on her bag, tearing a piece of her soft, leafy face off and leaving a gush of green ooze in its place. She collapsed, clutching it in pain, and in too much shock to even scream.

By the time her mind could process anything beyond the hole in her face, her eyes shot up to see the zen headbutt coming right before it connected. Everything went black.


That was the first time Bristle had experienced being a dungeon's captive. It was an odd sensation.

She never truly "awoke" until she was rescued. She was only ever just conscious enough for it to be… uncomfortable. Like being stuck in a bad dream. She existed, helplessly and thoughtlessly in the black void within the dungeon's walls.

And though the discomfort wasn't enough to be traumatic or to make her hazy awareness insufferable, it was more than enough to make her fear ever falling prey to a dungeon again.

But that discomfort was nothing, nothing, compared to the pain of seeing her mother's face when she came to. That look of utter disappointment would be etched into Bristle's memories forever.

She had failed. She had failed mom's faith, she had failed her training, and she had failed everyone's expectations for her. She had failed her own fate.

The trek back home that night after Team Bunker's rescue was spent in the most uncomfortable silence of Bristle's life. Hardly a word had been uttered between the three of them before they'd gone to bed, beyond Bristle's pleading apologies, Thorn's muttered acceptances, and Brutus's quiet reassurances.

Bristle pulled herself away from her father that night, sleeping on her own by the edge of his enormous mat. She couldn't bear to lay against him after the way she'd failed him today. And as her puffy eyes shut for rest, she swore a silent resolution to herself.

She only got a few hours of restless sleep, before forcing herself awake before the crack of dawn. Quietly, she packed her bag without waking her parents. She filled it to the brim with the best of her own supplies. Half a dozen Orans. Three separate blast wands. A petrify orb.

And before the sun could rise to reveal her, she slipped out from their room. She raced eagerly down hundreds of stairs, and darted out from the entrance courtyard of the Jade Crest's headquarters, in an hour where only the nocturnes could question her rabid urgency.

She made her way into the city, which was equally as sleepy, and straight to a ride center. The Watchhog at the desk gave her a dirty look for even daring to request service at this hour. But she counted out the coins, and to her fortune there was a Zebstrika awake, and willing to give her a ride.

After under an hour, spent in an unspoken agreement of silence as she tethered around Zebstrika's neck, she stood again at the entrance of Mute Fissure. Anxiety coursed through her as she stared down into the mouth of the beast.

She'd come so close yesterday. She couldn't undo her mistake, but she could overwrite it. She carefully removed the phial from her bag and stared at it. Just the tiniest bit of rift smoke from this dungeon, and everyone would know they'd been right about her.

Face sharpening into an adamant scowl, she stepped into the dungeon.


Bristle thought her mother's expression when Thorn first rescued her would be the worst thing she'd ever experience. It wasn't until her second rescue that she realized her mother's disappointment could be greater.

She hadn't even cleared the sixth quadrant this time. In spite of knowing how the dungeon worked, and bringing all her best gear. It was as if her first run had been a fluke. A mere Kirlia had defeated her.

The trek home was heavy with that awful silence once more, this time Bristle lacking the heart to even murmur apologies. What was the point? What they all wanted to say was evident in the air- she was a failure. Their little "legend" couldn't handle a B-class dungeon on her own. What hope did she have of living up to everything else?

Bristle wished her mother would chastise her. Tell her that she expected better. But she didn't say a word. Because she didn't expect better from Bristle, did she?

After another sleepless night, another early morning, and another silent ride, Bristle stood before Mute Fissure for the third time. And by this point, even she didn't expect to come out on the other side. But her fate was written. She wasn't allowed to fail. She wasn't made to fail.

By the third time Thorn retrieved her from the dungeon, disgust had seeped into her expression.

"Why do you keep doing this?" she demanded of Bristle as soon as she'd come to.

And all she could choke out between her frustrated tears was "Because I have to."

Thorn shook her head with a heavy sigh. "This was a stupid idea, Bristle. You can't clear this on your own. I was just mad at the guildmaster," she admitted, refusing to look her daughter in the eyes.

But it was too late for Thorn's words to reach her. All Bristle heard that believing in her had been a stupid idea. The Roserade had to have known that Bristle would be gone once more in the morning, yet she made no effort to stop her.

Thorn's frustration clearly grew with each rescue, but she never once told Bristle to stop. Which to Bristle meant there was still hope. Still some part of Thorn that believed she'd get it right, eventually.

But after her fifth failure, that hope was dashed.

Their strange procession entered the mission hall, Brutus exhausted and Thorn fuming, as Bristle stared off into another dimension with watery eyes. They earned the gossiping glares and whispers of every Pokémon passing by, but all three of them were far beyond caring.

As soon as they got to their room, word was sent for Bristle to visit the guildmaster. Knowing nothing good would come of it, she unpacked slowly and made her way to the large office she'd snuck into days prior.

Ithycus stood, staring wistfully out his large window. "Take a seat," he said with a sigh.

She obliged, and he turned. But to her surprise, he didn't sit at his own desk, but instead came and sat down right next to her.

"Bristle, why are you doing this?" he asked, tone serious as he stared her dead in the eyes.

"Doing what?"

His eyes narrowed. "You know what, Bristle. I know about your 'exams'. You could crush a real entrance exam without any trouble, yet you're choosing to fail them repeatedly."

The Roselia turned, refusing to meet his gaze any longer. "I'm not choosing to fail them! I'm just… what's the point of doing an exam that I'm guaranteed to pass? So what if I can delve some D-class trash? Anyone can! Isn't the point to prove that I can do something special? It's… it's just a B-class! There are delvers all over the planet that could handle it. So… so why can't I?" she choked out, fighting to shove down a sob as her eyes watered.

"Bristle…" Ithycus started with concern. He reached a claw over to place on her shoulder but paused, having no idea if touching her right now would help or hurt. "Bristle, it's a B-class, alone, and you're nine years old. The fact you've done as well as you have is downright amazing. I don't know what's gotten into you, but you know that we're proud of you, right?"

Bristle froze, mid-crying at that.

"I wouldn't have allowed you this chance in the first place if I didn't respect your talent. But everyone has limits. And right now, this is above yours. Throwing yourself at it like this won't change that."

And just like that, her momentary hope was shattered. He had no faith in her either.

"I came so close…" she whispered. "I can still do this."

Ithycus sighed, his shoulders sinking as he realized he hadn't gotten through to her. "And then what? What does that prove? That if you throw yourself at a problem enough you can brute force your way through it?"

Bristle snarled, grabbing her knees and burying her head in them. He was right. Her failure was already seared into her past. But if she could just make it through once… that would still prove she could at least do it, right? That she'd gotten better, kept fighting, overcame it…

Ithycus watched her sadly. With a remorseful look, he spoke again. "Bristle… I owe you an apology. I let things go too far. After promising myself I wouldn't, I let myself start looking at you as a star in the making rather than a kid in need of guidance. And now here you are, running yourself ragged chasing a standard that it's impossible for anyone to meet."

He shook his head regretfully. "Your mother doesn't have a lick of sense in her outside of a fight. I knew that, and I still let her go through with this," he muttered. "I should have been looking out for you. Some of my most trusted assistants told me they were worried. But you seemed fine on the surface, and I didn't want to believe it, so I let it go on."

He hung his head low. "I failed my role as guildmaster. And I'm deeply sorry for that, Bristle."

Her sobbing only grew heavier. Every word he was trying to say in empathy just stabbed deeper into her heart. As every word was a reminder that he'd given up on that image of her. She had been given the perfect opportunity to meet that standard which should have been impossible for anyone else. And she'd wasted it.

The Sceptile silently watched her cry for a minute, face drenched in pain. Eventually, as she started to quiet down, he let out a heavy sigh.

"Bristle, if you want to join the Crest, I'm... ordering you to take a normal entrance exam in a D-class dungeon. I'll be speaking with Tweet and some of the administrative crew and seeing if we can't get the rules updated to close your mother's little loophole soon anyways."

Bristle let out another quiet sob. She'd seen that coming. But it stung to hear her failure cemented.

"And once you join, I'd better not hear of you going out to Mute Fissure anymore. If I do, there will be disciplinary actions. Okay?"

Though it was a threat, he said it with all the softness of a concerned parent. But it hurt all the same. And worst of all, all Bristle could do was nod. She needed his approval to join the Crest, or her entire future was ruined.

With a gentle pat on the back, and a smile that didn't reach his eyes, the guildmaster sent her back home for the night.


Bristle's face hit the ground again, sullying her cheeks with a fresh coat of dirt. Growling, she dragged herself to her feet and glared back at her mother. Thorn watched her with a bored expression, her prickly vines uncurling and slowly retracting back into her bouquet.

Bristle pulled herself to her feet, infuriated. Even months later, that little green emblem on her chest still burned a hole through her soul. What was a symbol of pride to so many young Pokémon was nothing to her but a reminder of her shame. A reminder of how low she had to sink to earn it.

Her exam had been a joke. Her average day of training was a far more vigorous exercise than her casual stroll through the Sunken Shoals to earn it.

"That's a knockout," Thorn declared, already walking away. She cast a nasty scowl to the onlookers, which scared the lot of them off, and sat down against the edge of the field to rest.

The onlookers had been a bit of a nuisance since Bristle had joined the Crest and been forced to use the public training fields, rather than the guildmaster's private courtyard. But it hadn't been half as bad as Thorn had prophesied ten years ago. Her nasty glares were enough to keep the younger, more timid delvers away. And most of the older ones had grown bored of Bristle by now.

Indeed, over time rumors of the 'prodigy' had slowly been overtaken by rumors of the 'lunatic'. News of her repeated suicide missions into Mute Fissure had spread like wildfire. And while a maddened, obsessive delver who refused to take a team was certainly an interesting gossip, it lacked the novelty of an enigmatic virtuoso. Lone wolves and workaholics were nothing new to the Crest.

Bristle dusted herself off and joined her mother leaning back against the wall of the castle. The public training fields were all lined up on a row, just outside the headquarter's walls. They were a popular place for Pokémon of all sorts in the evening. The delvers that hadn't gotten their licks in during a day's work would come to practice and enjoy a good fight here. And at the moment, Thorn seemed far more interested in just about everyone else's training than theirs.

"My vines retracted too slowly after attacking. It left me unable to follow up in time," Bristle reported dutifully as she sat down. "I also overestimated how much the cut to your shoulder would stagger you, and left myself vulnerable to retaliation."

Bristle watched her mother's expression eagerly for any feedback to her self-critique. But rather than nodding, or shaking her head, or scowling, or smiling, or doing anything else, Thorn just stared off into the distance with a glazed look.

"You said the exact same thing last time," she muttered. "What's the point if you're not actually going to fix it?"

"I… " Bristle let out a near-silent whimper. "I tried."

Thorn sighed and shook her head. "Let's just let it go for today."

"What?" Bristle gulped. Thorn had been growing more and more obviously detached from her training over the past year. But she had never heard her mother suggest giving up before.

"You're clearly not getting this today. So there's no point continuing. Me and your father can fit some work in tonight if we're not going to make progress here anyways. You probably can too," Thorn suggested, rising to her feet.

Bristle couldn't believe her ears. Her mother suggesting she give up on a training session may as well be telling Bristle to her face that Thorn had given up on her. That even her mother didn't believe she could be fixed at this point. The last person who'd had faith.

And sparring matches with her were already such a commodity these days to begin with. Her parents had returned to their work as elites in full force. When Thorn could spare a match, it always ended in bitter, shameful defeat. And that accursed stone her mother kept would be dangled over her head once more, a constant reminder of the completeness she'd never reach.

"Or you could go hang out with your little friends," Thorn offered and pointed her bouquet down the line of fields, where Team Pride were engaged in a three-way free-for-all a few fields down. "You still need to find a team anyways, don't you?"

There was a fat chance of Bristle finding a team at this point. Half the Crest thought she was crazy now- she'd heard the phrase 'like her mother' in a hushed whisper an infuriating number of times. And it seemed everyone that didn't think she was mad was among the undesirables. Those same rookies that had only made it in by the gratuitous mercy of the entrance exam.

"Okay," Bristle answered in a deflated whisper.

"Have fun. I'll see you tomorrow," Thorn waved goodbye as she quickly walked away, the pop in her step returning as soon as she was unshackled from her duties here. Bristle turned to avoid watching her leave.

It wasn't too late to go snag an extra job for the day, if she got something close. Even something small would help her earn credit towards a higher rank. Towards some semblance of dignit-

"Hey, Bristle!" a voice called out, in a paradoxical hush that still pierced the noise of the crowd. She glanced up to see Noibat flapping over to meet her. Or rather, 'Deci' now, as he had named himself. "Were you done for the day? We could use a fourth for sparring, if you want."

That was another option. There was still a score to settle in her mind…

She nodded, and they made their way over to Team Pride's field. The moment the other two dragons saw her, they stopped and waved eagerly.

"Bristle!" Gible- now Gabite- now 'Ego'- beamed eagerly at her. She grimaced as he approached, resenting his newfound height. "It's been too long! Hard to catch ahold of you when you're always training or out working."

'Xew' gave her a gentle wave.

"You wanted a fourth for sparring?" she asked sternly. "I'll go with Axew."

Ego snorted. "Stars, you're even worse than before. Would a 'hi, how are you doing?' kill you?"

"I guess I should be honored, at least," Xew chuckled. "I accept."

Bristle rolled her eyes. "Hello. How are you doing?"

"Pretty good! Hopefully just a few months off of gold now," Ego answered. "You've been chasing Silver yourself, haven't you?"

She scowled at the reminder of their lead, but nodded. "Yes. I have a ways to go, but I'm making steady progress."

It was only half-true. She was making progress, but it was growing ever slower. It was as if she was going backwards now. Growing sloppier, making mistakes.

"Well, we should team up sometime!" Ego proposed, giving her a slap on the back with his claw. Her eye twitched at the sudden contact. "Like old times!"

"I dunno about that. With her workaholic tendencies, if we help her catch up she might overtake us," Deci snickered.

"You crazy?" Ego roared at the bat. "We're three-to-one! If she can overtake us, we deserve it!"

Bristle silently fumed at the banter. Ego had always been like this. But to see Deci- the trembling little bat who had once been afraid to so much as look at her- taunt her so openly. She had sunk so low, and even they could see it.

She was used to these jeers now. The pitying looks. People avoiding her, like she was rotten and withered. Their voices taunted her in her mind.

"Why don't you take a day off Bristle? You look exhausted."

"Do you really think you should tackle that one alone, Bristle? Shouldn't you get some help?"

Those constant reminders that she was less than. That she couldn't do it, and that everyone knew it.

"L-let's just get this match started, and see!" she suddenly snarled, breaking her own haunting memories. The aggression snapped away the jovial atmosphere and tension fell into its place. Team Pride stared at her in stunned silence for a moment, before Ego frowned.

"Fine," he grumbled.

The two dragons took their place on the far end of the field, while Xew took his by her side. She stared Deci and Ego down, trying to burn her convictions into them with just her gaze. But to her dismay, their eyes burned back with equal confidence. After all, they weren't facing the prodigy any more- they were facing the lunatic.

In her heart, Bristle knew the truth. Her ship had sailed. That ghost of who she was meant to be was already far beyond her, and she could never reach it. But she'd keep chasing it.

What else was she supposed to do? Abandon everything she'd ever known, and just give up? Accept a life of mediocrity after everything she'd worked for?

No, surrender was never an option. She was trapped, forever, in this cycle of spiraling failure with no way out. And though she'd never say it out loud, on some level she understood it.

All she could do now was ride that vortex downwards.