The Johto OdysseyA Pokemon Fanfic by Galbinus

Disclaimer: I don't own Pokemon.
Dedication: . . . dunno, really.
Chapter Rating: K
OC's In Use: None
Warning: Attempted humor. Very bad attempted humor. That is your warning.
Thanks To: Arc Knight for looking over a few paragraphs of this story.

Before we begin the chapter, I want to thank all of you for your absolutely lovely reviews, and your tolerance with the slowness of this fic. I'll try to speed things up now and cut down on the unnessecary details.

A chapter or two back, however, someone raised the question of whether this fic needs to be upped to a 'T' rating. I personally don't think that it's that mature, but the reviewer pointed out that 'Grass Ass' isn't really appropriate for an audience of 'K ', which is true. Please tell me in your review whether you think the rating of this fic is appropriate or not. If enough people think so, I may raise the rating.

In case you didn't pick up on it before, ":Insert Dialogue Here,:" indicates Poke-speech, which I will once again remind everyone that only Pokemon and some rare humans can understand. Psychic Pokemon can choose to communicate telepathically in English (or another language), which is understood by all, even those who are deaf, but I'm not going to touch on that matter so early in the story. . . Yes, there is a plot to this fic, though it hasn't manifested yet.

This chapter is told completely from Pokemon's POVs (in third person limited, as usual.) Please enjoy it!

Chapter Eight: Flowering Personalities

Route 30—14:32, September 7: Friday

Brendan's Swampert was a little surprised when his Trainer suddenly called him out of his Pokeball.

The Mud Fish Pokemon, who had been snoozing peacefully inside his container, was flung out most unceremoniously and landed painfully on his buttocks, earning sneers from May's Blaziken, who was already outside of his own Pokeball. Twisting his wide face into a frown, the Swampert ambled over to questioningly ogle Brendan with his beady eyes.

"Hey, Zuzu," Brendan said by way of addressing the ground-and-water-typed Pokemon, "May and I thought that it would be best if you guys—meaning, our Pokemon—stayed out of your Pokeballs for as long as possible; you know, accustom yourself to each other and, like, Johto in general."

Zuzu nodded obediently and gamboled over to idle by the Blaziken's side, waiting patiently for his Trainer to send out the rest of his team. As he waited for the recently released red silhouettes to solidify into his comrades, he observed the rest of Brendan's new traveling companions, having only a brief three-hour long session to acknowledge them previously a few days ago.

May's Blaziken seemed oddly confident, and the Swampert recalled solemnly how timid he was as a Torchic, and how easily bossed around. Not that Zuzu had down any emotional jostling to the Blaze Pokemon—it was the other Torchic that did so; in fact, Zuzu, ever patriotic, had tried standing up for the fire-type before, only to earn a few angry scratches on his dorsal fin (the marks had well-since faded away) from the very Torchic he had been trying to protect. From then on, the Mudkip, now a Swampert, had always been wary of the frail-but-feisty Torchic, now a Blaziken.

A tugging on his tail fin caused Zuzu to look backwards, only to witness a grinning Eevee wagging her bushy tail. The Swampert smiled, though he was slightly annoyed by the DNA Pokemon's antics. Given the limber way that May's Eevee was darting from side to side, however, Zuzu judged that the Pokemon excelled at dodging attacks.

As much as the Eevee was active, May's Munchlax was lazy. The Swampert found it very hard to determine if the Pokemon was sleeping, simply standing there with his eyes closed, or dead, though he hoped it wasn't the last. May's Squirtle, undoubtedly the shyest of all of May's Pokemon, was hiding behind the brown-haired girl's ankles as Brendan's Pokemon—all, admittedly, rather large—formed.

":Hello,:" Zuzu said in his deep rumble to the Blaziken in Poketalk.

Not to his surprise, the Blaziken did not respond, but what troubled the Swampert was that the Blaze Pokemon was staring at Ruru, or Brendan's Gallade, with great dislike in his red-orange eyes. A little taken aback by the Blaziken's hostility, and the way the normally courteous Gallade was staring back with (if it were possible) even more belligerence, Zuzu turned to look at how the rest of his Trainer's Pokemon were getting acquainted with May's Pokemon.

Like last time, May's Munchlax took it to burying himself in Brendan's Shiftry's large white mane. Zuzu was tempted to let out a bark of laughter, but given the Wicked Pokemon's rather unpredictable temper, he decided against it. The Squirtle seemed far too scared to want to talk, nevertheless exchange glances, so the Swampert settled on attempting to coerce the Eevee into conversation.

":Hello,:" Zuzu said again.

":Heya!:" The Eevee beamed excitably, leaping from side to side. ":What's up? What's your name? You didn't talk much last time we came out of our Pokeballs. Moltres, I hate those things. Don't you hate Pokeballs as well? I always feel so cramped. That's why I always try to break out. Do you try to break out? I do it all the time. Well, you don't seem like the type to break out of Pokeballs. Do you know why you don't seem like the type to break out of Pokeballs? I don't. Well, do you? Hey, how come you're not talking much? Well, you don't seem like the type to talk much. I love talking! But not listening. Oddly enough, I have excellent hearing! Do you have good hearing? I don't see any ears on the sides of your head.:"

Zuzu blocked out the rest of the excitable Eevee's words, as he couldn't take in any more. The Swampert wouldn't describe himself as slow—on the contrary, he had always felt that he was above par when it came to intelligence—but now he was really questioning his I.Q. level.

":Um,:" Zuzu began, a little unsure where he should start answering the Eevee's questions, ":I'm Zuzu, and, uh, Pokeballs are okay, I guess—:"

He didn't get a chance to finish his sentence, as the Eevee suddenly butt in. ":Wow! You have a nickname? I sure didn't catch that last time 'round. Then again, I probably wasn't listening. I don't listen much. I did tell you that I didn't like listening, right?:"—Zuzu nodded quickly to prevent another long tirade on the travesties of listening to others speak—":Anyway, May never nicknamed us. . . she doesn't have much creativity in that way. Don't get me wrong, she's a great Coordinator and Trainer, really! Though her Pokeblocks are absolutely horrid. Those things are nasty, I tell ya. If she ever offers you any Pokeblocks, my advice is, don't take it, unless you're on a diet and you want to vomit. Hm. You look like you could use a little diet, but. . . maybe all Swamperts are fat."—Zuzu was appalled.—"Anyway, only Munchlax likes May's Pokeblocks.:" The Eevee stopped to spare the Big Eater Pokemon a pitiful glance. ":He's kind of weird like that. Speaking of which, does your Trainer make decent Pokeblocks? I'm not very observant, but I've noticed he's kind of girly, and since girls generally like cooking, even though May's a huge exception, I thought that he might—:"

":Yeah, Brendan makes great Pokeblocks,:" Zuzu interrupted. The Eevee, obviously very unused to being cut short, looked miffed, surprised, but interested in what the Swampert was saying. ":You should try them one of these days. . . they're really great, really. My favorites are his Yellow Pokeblocks—they're just the right sourness, and they practically melt in your tongue.:"

Incredibly, the Eevee took the time to ponder the Swampert's words. Seizing his chance, Zuzu scuffled away, concealing his bulky frame behind the even bulkier frame of Brendan's Aggron. Luckily for Zuzu, Brendan and May had decided that it was time to get a move on.

"All right, gang!" May called out, "Let's get moving before it gets dark!"

The large group of ten Pokemon and three humans continued down the stretch of dirt that was the path to the next city. Wild grass grew all over the earthy walk, though no wild Pokemon attacked—possibly because they knew that any efforts against the ten experienced Pokemon would be futile; or it could also be because of the very aggressive way Aggron was surveying everything.

Oddly enough, they continued in silence for quite a bit. Zuzu had enough evidence, judging from the way that Brendan would glance frequently at the brown-haired girl, to suspect that his Trainer truly wished to converse with May, but she seemed too troubled by something to speak; Zuzu vaguely wondered what. The Swampert, however, was a little preoccupied with the difficult task of avoiding May's Eevee. Ruru and Blaziken, both naturally fast walkers, had strode the front of the group, both walking at an eerily identical pace.

Over the course of the next few hours, they continued in the same manner: the Gallade and Blaziken in front, both martial Pokemon occasionally shooting Brendan's Milotic (covetous?) glances, followed by Max, who seemed particularly interested in the behavior of Ruru and the Blaze Pokemon, and constantly jotted down notes in the back of a magazine that he carried around. Following Max, Brendan and May walked side-by-side, so close that their hips nearly brushed against each other—strangely enough, each time the phenomenon actually occurred, Brendan's ivory face would glow cerise and he would leap three feet to his left before slowly nearing May again. Then, came the rest of the Pokemon assemble—May's Eevee took turns boring the others.

Zuzu was relatively content for the most part, as long as he wasn't listening to the DNA Pokemon blabber on and on about some mundane topic or other, and he quite enjoyed the scenery. Lavender mountains dotted the horizon, chalky mist swirling around the pinnacles of each. The grass glowed golden under the leisurely setting sun, and there were occasionally small noises from the wild growth, undoubtedly common Pidgey or Rattata zooming about to complete their daily chores. The Swampert was amazed that such an urban region could harbor such rural beauties, but Zuzu wasn't complaining.

After observing the surroundings for a good hour, however, Zuzu became rather bored. The ground beneath him felt more and more pliable with every step, consequentially raising the effort level it took to once again step forward. He noticed that the other Pokemon were looking pretty tired as well, with the exception of May's Eevee, who seemed to have absorbed the others' lost energy to beef up her own morale.

Another hour trudged past, and Brendan—finally—declared that it was time to set up camp. Immediately after the black-haired Trainer's relieving words, the Swampert collapsed on the ground, feeling the indifferent coolness of the dirt soothe his own warm skin. Foggily, Zuzu registered the delicious aroma of vegetables or whatnot wafting over from a collapsible pot Brendan had undoubtedly purchased back at the Cherrygrove City. It was then that the Swampert realized that he had not actually 'seen' the town they exited a lot, and Zuzu wondered what it was that caused Brendan's lapse in memory.

":Zuzu, it is time to eat,:" Ruru announced, ever politely, though Zuzu thought he had scented a hint of irritability in the Gallade's formal voice. A little bit confused as to what incurred the new irritability, the Mud Fish Pokemon reluctantly forced himself back onto his feet, noting that the last few rays of sunlight were diminishing, casting dark pools of shadows underneath each and every figure on the scene.

Amiably, the Swampert gamboled over to rest by the small fireplace Brendan had so speedily established. Said black-haired Trainer was spooning the vegetarian minestrone soup into wooden bowls—no doubt, Shiftry played some part in the creation of the seamlessly formed and polished eating utensils—and passing it around the semi-circle formed by all the Pokemon and the humans. Zuzu was glad to see that Brendan had not, at least, degraded his Pokemon to 'pet' levels in order to suit the other humans' likings; he was even gladder to see that May, on the whole, treated her Pokemon like equals. The little one, Max—who the Mud Fish Pokemon recalled had a particular affinity with Treeko, preferring them over the other two Hoenn starters—didn't seem to mind as well.

At least the food shut the Eevee up, since she was too busy lapping up her share of the soup to interject more words. Tentatively, for that was his part of his adamant nature, Zuzu lowered his wide head to timorously taste the food. His first instinct was to yelp in surprise, as that evening's broth was tastier than normal. He settled for squeaking in shock, earning himself a glare of daggers from May's Munchlax, who had finished first and was now eying Squirtle's, who was seated left of the Big Eater Pokemon, half-finished dinner interestedly.

":Dradra,:" Swampert began, addressing the quiet orange Dragonite leaning against a large boulder, slightly out of the half-circle, ":Tonight's food is unusually good, isn't it?:"

The Dragon Pokemon shifted in agreement, though the twinkle in her small but expressive dark brown eyes warned Zuzu not to insult the food; wasn't going to, anyway, but Dradra liked taking precautions. Unfortunately, the Swampert's words were not ignored by the rest of the Pokemon.

":Waah. . .?:" Munchlax said unexpectedly. The sheer fact that the usually silent normal-type was speaking was enough to shut everyone else up. ":The food's awesome, dude! Man, what are you talking about?:"

A little perturbed by the Munchlax's slurry Californian accent, Zuzu remained absolutely immobile for ten solid seconds before remembering that he was capable of speech. The firelight flickered, and the Mud Fish Pokemon was aware that night had arrived. Unluckily, someone else had decided to take advantage of the time the Swampert was silent to voice his own opinion.

":I don't know, Munchie!:" May's Squirtle wailed in a whiny, juvenile voice, also unexpectedly. Zuzu noted the nickname the Tiny Turtle Pokemon had chosen for the Munchlax. The Swampert half-wondered if the other water-type was doing so was because he was incapable of articulating the normal-type's full name. Perhaps the Squirtle was dumber than Zuzu had thought; in any case, Munchlax easily took advantage of Squirtle's temporary distraction by downing the rest of the Tiny Turtle Pokemon's soup. ":But—but—the food's great!:"

Rather randomly, the Squirtle burst into tears. May, who had started a conversation with Brendan, reluctantly exited the talk to pick up the small Pokemon and place him on her lap, idly stroking his round head to soothe him. Zuzu disapproved of such babying but didn't comment. The rest of the Pokemon, including the Swampert, were glad that Squirtle had left, however temporarily, or at least until May had finished quieting his wracking sobs.

In a desperate attempt to change the subject before all was too late, Zuzu interjected, ":So, um. . . any of you like. . . casinos?:"

The rest of Brendan's Pokemon stared at Swampert as though he had gone insane—well, this was not true; Milotic, who, despite her ladylike appearance, had an unhealthy obsession with gambling, and the last thing she needed was a reminder of her love for the slots, which the Swampert had stupidly mentioned. Zuzu recalled the uncomfortable hours he spent cramped inside his Pokeball while Mimi, the Milotic, was outside of hers and was uncharacteristically authoritatively directing Brendan's exact moves on the machines—even though the Swampert felt that all those uncomfortable hours were worth simply seeing the usually composed black-haired Trainer cower under the shrill commands of the Milotic. Humor seemed to be the last thing on the minds of most of Zuzu's fellow Teammates, though.

Fortunately, Mimi was too busy fantasizing about the various Game Corners she had visited, which gave time for the May's other Pokemon to respond. . . well, that wasn't exactly fortunate.

":Eh, they're all right,:" Eevee commented flippantly, flicking her brown white-tipped tail to the other side, utterly oblivious to the daggers the Milotic was glaring, ":I mean, personally, I think that casinos are a drag, because I'd much rather be talking with other Pokemon than pulling, or telling May to pull, silly knobs so that we can win money that's very hard to win anyway.:"

Before the Eevee could continue in her detailed explanation of exactly why she felt that casinos were dull, Mimi, usually a very private sort of Pokemon, menacingly cut in, ":Don't you ever dare say that casinos are boring again, or else,:" lacing each word with venom and leaving the sentence threateningly unfinished

Bewildered, the DNA Pokemon turned her circular chocolate eyes to lock gazes with the red-faced Milotic's sea-green ones. Mimi emanated a dangerous vibe, and with wisdom contradictory to her carefree nature, Eevee desisted.

Zuzu noticed that both Ruru and May's Blaziken were respectfully—and, if it were, perhaps with a little bit of infatuation gleaming in both's gemlike eyes—watching the Milotic while the rest of the Pokemon were looking at her with something close to terror reflected in their expressions. The Swampert, who knew Mimi a bit better than the rest, also knew that Mimi would never dream of hurting anyone unless it was in a Pokemon battle, but not everyone else knew that. Dradra was one of the few exceptions to this rule, though; seated a little apart from the rest, the Dragonite was constantly aloof from the others.

Her serpentine body swaying with passion in the slight breeze, Mimi began her eloquent tirade.

":Dare not insult the beauty of gambling,:" The Milotic began in a deadly quiet voice, flashing Eevee a rueful glare, ":Else you wish to be undone through various but equally painful methods. Gambling—ah, it is a marvelous, absolutely wonderful, thing. Does not everyone seated here agree with me that it is on the very nature—the very rise and fall of one's heart when the dice is rolling or the numbers are spinning, flashing—that gives gambling its edge. . .?:" Here, Mimi stopped to look around for supporters. Wisely, everyone nodded, Gallade and Blaziken being the most enthusiastic and entranced, and they were the only ones sincerely so. ":. . . I, I thrive on that very edge. . . ."

Perhaps Mimi had said something else, or perhaps not, for Brendan had shrewdly chosen that precise moment to begin collecting the bowls, subsequently ending the Milotic's speech. Mimi scowled scornfully but didn't argue, knowing that any future efforts would be futile.

Almost skipping now, which was an odd site to behold, Zuzu lightly moved away to help Aggron and Shiftry pitch the three small tents—all of which Brendan had purchased. As he was helping with the set-up, Zuzu noticed how ornate the tents looked, despite the fact that they were rather mundane objects in someone's Pokemon journey. Doing some quick calculations in his head, the Swampert realized that Brendan must have spent quite a bit of money since first arriving in Johto a week ago, and his stomach churned with worry. This was not like the frugal Trainer. Brushing the disconcerting thought away, Zuzu turned his attention back to the task at hand and proceeded with the setting-up.

A few minutes later, the three leaf-blankets had been laid, and the three humans began positioning themselves for sleep. Fatigue washing over him again, Zuzu plunked his heavy body on a nearby boulder and promptly drifted off into slumber. Very vaguely, he noted himself being returned inside his Pokeball.

Route 30—07:03, September 7: Saturday

Flipping gracefully into the crisp autumn morning, the Gallade landed on his feet, causing small clouds of dust to puff up from the dirt on the ground.

'You required my assistance, master?' Ruru asked telepathically, pivoting silently to face his Trainer. The Gallade didn't have to ask the question at all, though, as he already knew the answer—Brendan wanted to fight Ruru again, one-on-one, human-versus-Pokemon. The black-haired Trainer nodded in reply, and walked back to clear a space. Ruru personally thought that Brendan's efforts were futile—the human was battling against him, a Gallade, the master of physical combat—but Ruru knew that Brendan didn't take 'no' for an answer.

Wearing a stern expression, Brendan lunged forwards and hacked at the Blade Pokemon's abdomen with his a balled fist. Ruru saw the attack coming and easily avoided the attack by darting sideways. Almost as if in slow motion, the Gallade twisted around and slammed the flat side of his celadon elbow-blade into Brendan's back, causing the tall human to land unceremoniously on his knees.

Ruru, not wanting to appear barbaric, waited politely for Brendan to force himself back onto his feet. The Pokemon felt his heart throb with pain as he watched his Trainer struggle to regain his composure, and Ruru wondered if he was a little too harsh; but Brendan struck again before the Gallade could reach a conclusion.

Nimbly, Ruru evaded the blow, sending Brendan toppling forwards very ungracefully. Within seconds, the Gallade had turned around and had pinned his Trainer onto the ground. Brendan raised his hands to signal his defeat, and Ruru leapt back to allow Brendan to stand up again.

Tottering slightly, Brendan turned around to face Ruru again, wearing a pained expression. The Gallade, now concerned that he might have accidentally seriously injured the Trainer, stepped forward to offer his assistance, but Brendan waved the Pokemon away.

'Master, are you all right—?' Ruru started solicitously. He was cut off by a dismissive wave of Brendan's hand.

"Yeah, I'm fine, Ruru, thanks," Brendan said, though he looked extremely down-hearted. Ruru half-wished that he had feigned defeat; simply seeing his Trainer look so unsure of himself made the Gallade feel ashamed of his easy victory. A few awkward seconds elapsed, in which Brendan checked the various joints of his body to make sure he had not twisted anything. Finally, the black-haired Trainer said, albeit very embarrassedly, "Um, Ruru, could I ask you something. . .?"

A little puzzled by Brendan's uncharacteristic apprehension, the Gallade nodded slowly to signal for the Trainer to continue.

"C-could you, maybe, teach me how to. . . fight?"

The words were unexpected; Ruru blinked in surprise. Had the Gallade, perhaps, heard his Trainer wrong? Surely, Brendan—proud, at times almost ridiculously so—didn't just. . . ask Ruru to. . . teach him how to fight? And yet Ruru knew that he had heard Brendan completely correctly. Pausing for the briefest of moments, Ruru considered Brendan's offer.

'But of course, master,' Ruru replied, bowing respectfully. Yet, the normally private Gallade could not help but add, 'If you don't mind me asking, master, but why do you ask me. . .?'

Brendan's face darkened, and Ruru immediately began regretting his question. However, the black-haired Trainer's face lightened up almost as quickly, and Brendan said, "Well, the best of us have to discard their dignity to advance their skills at times, I suppose; though I don't consider myself the best, of course."

Ruru still had about ten other questions he was itching to ask Brendan, but he decided that it was best not to probe. Instead, the Gallade merely nodded and proceeded to correcting his Trainer—something Ruru was unused to.

'Let us start first on posture,' Ruru began hesitantly, walking over to Brendan's side. The black-haired Trainer watched the Gallade carefully. 'First of all, I have noticed that you implement a rather direct way of attack—which is not altogether different from my own style of combat.' Pausing, Ruru helped Brendan position himself so that he was facing the invisible enemy from his side. 'Doing this will minimize the part of your body exposed to being attacked, and thus greatly mitigate the amount of damage you will sustain during battle.'

Evidently impressed, Brendan did as Ruru directed. The Gallade noted pleasantly that his Trainer was not wasting any time on attempting to appear dignified—when training in combat, Ruru knew, it was best if you forgot that you had a reputation to consider until the very end of battle.

'Now, master, when you're attacking, make sure to have fully calculated what I like to call the "range of evasion" the enemy can dodge in.' Ruru demonstrated by sweeping a large arc in front of himself.

"And how exactly do you do this, if you don't mind me asking?" Brendan said, appearing a little puzzled.

Ruru paused for a moment to decide how he should word his sentence. 'Before beginning the fight, one should always pause to examine how the other moves him or herself,' He said, 'For example, ever since our very first battle when I was still a Kirlia, I have noticed that you move hastily and make quick decisions—which is not an altogether detrimental trait, but it can easily be taken advantage of by a nimble dodger. At the time, I was not exactly, well, fit for combat as a Kirlia, so I molded my combat style around evading attack and striking when the opponent reveals a blind spot.'

Nodding slowly, Brendan took a few short seconds to digest Ruru's words before motioning for Ruru to continue.

'Now, if you are the one actually doing the dodging, make sure to memorize to the best of your ability your opponent's attack style, for both people and Pokemon have the tendency to repeat. Drawing in on what you memorized, you can spare your reflexes and your mind quite a bit of work. The actual dodging, however, relies mainly on how fast you react to the attacks, and very rarely will you actually have to do conscious thinking besides from planning your attacking strategy.'

Brendan looked a little perturbed by Ruru's words upon hearing that dodging had very little to do with actual thinking. Ruru could imagine why—though Brendan liked moving fast, he also had the tendency to ponder and calculate matters for unusually long amounts of time. Hoping to reassure his master, the Gallade hurriedly continued.

'However, it is always possible to improve your reflexes,' Ruru said quickly, causing Brendan's face to brighten perceptibly, 'I've noticed that you have naturally good reflexes and instincts; however, as you haven't done any honing in on your talent—as most with undiscovered skill fail to do—your powers remain unsharpened.'

Before Ruru could say anything else, Brendan butted in excitably, "Could you teach me how to do that?"

Letting a rare smile grace his usually staid features, Ruru said, 'But of course, master. We shall first start off with several simple exercises of my own invention and proceed onto several harder ones I have acquired during combat with the Breloom you briefly took care of for Wally.'

"Oh, and one other thing, Ruru. . ."

'Yes?'

"Don't ever call me master again."

'Very well, master.'

Route 30—09:13, September 7: Saturday

May's Blaziken, after a refreshing sleep inside his Pokeball, decided it was time to exit. With little difficulty, the Blaze Pokemon lightly rammed into the side of the capsule device that harbored the release button. A few moments later, he found himself being enveloped by scarlet light, and the familiar curious sensation of fading into his surroundings blanketed him. Not five seconds later, he found himself materializing on the cool ground.

Blinking, Blaziken adjusted to the increase in light and looked around himself. May was still asleep, which wasn't too much of a surprise. She had curled up in a ball to maximize heat, though the Blaziken found this a little unnessecary—someone had thrown Brendan's spare jacket on her back to act as a blanket for her, and the Blaze Pokemon was willing to bet that it was said black-haired Trainer who did so.

Flexing his muscular limbs, Blaziken hopped onto the dirt path and began walking, intending to map out his surroundings so that he knew where they were going. Not a minute after beginning his mid-morning walk, however, the fire-typed Pokemon spotted the two humanoid figures of Brendan and Ruru conversing in the distance. Intrigued, Blaziken quickened his pace, but before he could get within the proximity to hear what the two were talking about, Brendan had dismissed the Gallade.

Stiffening as Ruru drew closer, Blaziken noticed that Ruru's tall body was beaded with sweat. Intensifying his gaze, the Blaze Pokemon spared Brendan an oblique glance and thought he saw the raven hair protruding at varying angles from under Brendan's beanie-headwear was slick with perspiration as well. The Trainer also seemed to be sending out another Pokemon, but Blaziken didn't have the chance to contemplate this, as Ruru suddenly knocked into him—accidentally or not, the Blaziken didn't care; what was important was that the Blaze Pokemon now had a reason to get angry.

Eyes widening heatedly, Blaziken opened his mouth and barked out a sharp, ":Hey, watch where you're going, buddy!:"

The Gallade froze in mid-stride. Very slowly and edgily, Ruru turned around to face Blaziken; his dark green eyes flashing dangerously.

Blaziken heard the next words in his mind—he had always thought that psychic Pokemon were rather formidable because of their ability to communicate with others telepathically; he had heard some rumors that they were able to peer into the minds and thoughts of other living things as well. Shuddering, Blaziken tried his best to not dwell on the matter.

'You are May's Blaziken, correct?' Ruru asked monotonously, his words devoid of any emotion.

":So what if I am?:" Blaziken retorted, puffing up his feathery chest. He didn't appreciate the Gallade's indifferent attitude. Not one bit. He also didn't appreciate the fact that Ruru spent and got to spend so much time with Brendan's Milotic, but Blaziken didn't know why he didn't appreciate this fact.

'Hn,' Was Ruru's only reply. The Gallade looked away, and began walking, though not on the path—instead, he strayed off and into the tall grass. Frowning, Blaziken watched curiously as Ruru deftly plucked a scrawny-looking Rattata from somewhere on the ground and knocked it out swiftly by hitting it on the head with the flat side of his right elbow-blade.

Tossing the limp body of the rodent-like Pokemon back onto the path, Ruru began searching out another weak Pokemon to, well, destroy—there was very little fight between the powerful Gallade and the comparably rather pitiful Rattata and Pidgey. Though Blaziken hated to admit it, he envied Ruru's skillful and fastidious moves; Ruru wasted absolutely no time in extravagant and unnessecary movements. In short, the Gallade's 'style' was quite different from Blaziken's own: the Blaze Pokemon liked flaunting his strengths before (literally) incinerating an enemy.

The dull 'thud' of another Pokemon hitting the ground dragged Blaziken back into reality. Puzzled, the Blaze Pokemon looked down to notice that a very much unconscious Pidgey was now lying there. A little sickened by the flawless speed at which Ruru worked, Blaziken watched emotionlessly as two more Rattata were flung through the air and landed by the sides of their fallen comrades.

On a whim, Blaziken strode inside the tall grass and began searching for a Rattata or Pidgey of his own to knock out. Surprisingly, he managed to locate one rather easily, and, with swiftness worthy of a flying-typed Pokemon, he knocked it out with a fast punch to the head.

Hoping that he did not severely injure the Rattata, he tossed the body of the purple Pokemon back onto the path. Dishearteningly noting that Ruru had already collected a foot-high pile of knocked-out Pokemon, Blaziken hardened his will and began working faster.

Simultaneously, he pulled out two Pidgey he spotted pecking at the ground, and slammed them against each other, thus knocking them out at the same time. The two poor Pokemon didn't know what hit them, but Blaziken couldn't stop to properly apologize; he threw the two Pidgey back onto the path, forming his own small pile of three Pokemon.

Noticing that Ruru's pile had now turned into a small mountain, Blaziken grumbled distastefully and worked faster.

Route 30—10:02, September 7: Saturday

Brendan Ruby Birch was a little shocked to find the two five-feet high piles of unconscious Pokemon bodies blocking his path back to camp.

His Milotic, who had been idling behind him, reached the end of her tether and irritably snaked up to rest by her Trainer's side. Then, very much unlike her usually collected self, her jaw dropped as she drank in the extremely strange sight.

"Ru—Ruru?!" Brendan exclaimed as Ruru, sweat practically pouring off of him, hobbled onto the dirt path. His usually pale face now greatly resembled a tomato. May's Blaziken, who had rather unceremoniously flung himself onto the ground, thoroughly exhausted from the (apparently) KO'ing work he had done.

Mimi snapped up her jaw and frowned. Brendan was almost sure that they were thinking the same thing:

It's going to be a long year.

Author's Notes:

I lazed off the ending. . . so sue me. I'm sorry, but I have a bit of a writer's block after reading other fanfics and deciding that they're 10 times better than any of the crap I'll squeeze out. . . DX

This is basically how writing this chapter went:

0 Hours: Fwee! Time to start a new chapter!
1 Hour: Shoot, I'm not so funny.
2 Hours: Scenery is boring to describe. . . -snore-
3 Hours: I officially hate explaining stuff.
4 Hours: End this torture!!

Because I suffered so. . . review:D