Hoi, iM NEmO, hOwZ yOuR dAy?

I was in India for a week, and then I was recovering from jetlag and being a people person, so writing was…difficult to do.

Let's see if I can write a battle

Usual disclaimers, calls for communication, usual self-deprecating joke about my inability to do human things

Also, in case you missed it, I'm trying to write longer chapters with more content in them. They won't come out nearly as often, but they're way more…joo-shee-des Sorry my otaku is showing so just tell me how you like it. I NEED FEEDBACK

I CRAVE IT

FEED MY ADDICTION PLEASE

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We all have some idea of how a Pokemon battle works, no matter how vague, romanticized, or even disillusioned that view may be. There are some who find it fun, a way to make friends and to deepen and tighten the relationship between trainer and Pokemon. Others see it as a conquest, a way to demonstrate superiority by ransacking another's pride. There are even those who see it as cruel, forcing these creatures who most often have complete trust in their trainers to hurt and get hurt for whatever petty flags we wave.

Personally, battling seems more like a war of wills, a strife to see who is willing to risk everything they have for victory. The prize money is rarely an incentive, and only is one at times of empty pockets. The real prize is the knowledge you gain from every battle, what you did well as a trainer, what you can improve upon, what new tactics you can teach to your Pokemon, and a more streamlined form of communication. Dayne teleporting to try and land a solid punch, Tex spelling out antonyms, both can be easily applied to a battle.

"Nina, use Metal Claw!"

At least, I hoped they could be easily applied to battle. I'd never really tested my theory.

The silvery sheen seemed to sharpen itself, the Nincada's forelegs gaining edges where there had only been curves before. The white bug lunged for my Ralts, the sound of metal scraping glass fleeing its mandibles.

Dayne simply teleported behind it, barely restraining a giggle. The offended party merely glared at me, now between my starter and myself. The antennae by its—her mandibles vibrated with her growls, those green eyes trying to burn me alive through willpower alone. I remember being grateful to natural selection for never deeming Fire-type attacks as an evolutionary prerogative of the species. That didn't stop the bug from leaping at me with metallicized appendages.

"Dayne!" I panicked, jumping out of the way. Those blackened sclera held rage and bloodlust, and the Nincada thought I was the proper target. Horns and eyes started glowing behind the green curtain of hair as Dayne assaulted the bug's mind with a Confusion attack, the unseen force shoving the boy's Pokemon into the ground. "Keep i-her there. Then use Teleport." He confirmed with an "al" and something telepathic.

I guess Dayne did understand why I kept on sparring with him; he was appearing and disappearing around that Nincada almost like a white-green-blur, the Bug-type cringing into the ground for some modicum of protection.

The Nincada was close to fainting, each strike being returned with increasingly small movements, it—no, her head bobbing in bewilderment from all the places Dayne appeared to be. I thought this would be a simple battle, prompting me to make my first big mistake of many big mistakes.

I relaxed. "Finish …her off with a Confusion." I didn't want this kid's bug to have permanent damage from my Ralts's exceptional skills teleporting, and forgot how little practice Dayne had with his psychic attacks. The key detail I forgot involved him remaining still and not teleporting to do so. The key to that key detail involved me not telling him to back away from the bug.

To this day, every time I see a Bug-type, I hope against hope that I won't have to use Dayne or Natexa. Sure, the type is resisted by almost half of the Pokemon types in existence, but the few they have an advantage over… it still makes me shiver today, the sight you are about to see.

Fear was trespassing upon the boy's mind once again, his hands clenched into fists at his sides, just barely restraining himself from entering a fit. More tears invaded our battle, but what sadness and fright there was before didn't exist anymore. In the calmness no child should have, he ordered his Nincada, "Leech Life."

Maybe it was her inherent Ground-typing, maybe she was just a resilient Nincada, maybe it really knew how to deal with being confused, but whatever the reason, it executed its orders with deadly precision—that is no hyperbole, no metaphor in any way; its mandibles closed on my Ralts's neck, sucking blood and the very life out of my first Pokemon. Had I not returned him when I had, the super-effective Bug move would have emptied my starter's heart and blood vessels of everything they had.

Pokeballs hold their residents in a stasis, maintaining anything from perfect health to being on death's door. If unconscious or dead, the normally colored exterior of the ball with change to a blackened, muted version of the regular design. I was really hoping Dayne's ball was only displaying unconsciousness—no, it had to be displaying unconsciousness; anything else and I don't know what I'd do, even to this day.

"Are you done?" The boy—his neck looked just big enough for me to throttle him—still held that unnatural quiet, that silence no child should have; the calm of someone resolved to kill. That calm distinguished the initial shudders of anger in the Nincada's first attack from the total vibration its whole body displayed, green pupils sharpened by its taste of blood and blackened sclera. It and its trainer were both monsters, steadfast in achieving whatever twisted revenge plot had risen from the depths of that child's mind. And my last Pokemon was their target.

I felt something soft brush against my hand—I didn't know I was clenching my fists. I also didn't know when I released Tex, but she knew I was losing…something in this fight, I don't have a name for it yet, but it was something important. My Dark-type licked at my hand as gentle as her rough tongue would allow. I didn't respond until she nipped at my hand, prompting a scowl and a yelp, one part surprise and the other part pain. I prolonged my scowl to try and scold her, only to see her smiling, resting on her haunches. Looking from her face to my hand, I realized two things: if I was going to be a decent trainer, I needed to maintain composure when my Pokemon got hurt; and I could win this battle, just as sure as my Absol's normally-red eyes were glowing a faint pink.

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Little mini-note: You thought I'd end the chapter here!? Nah, this is getting good. Let's hope nobody dies.

Also here's a poll, check it out.

Natexa the Absol, my Absol, poised herself between myself and the Nincada. I was still holding Dayne's ball, on the off-chance he was still alive, holding him close. She sniffed the air, and something changed. Was it the scent of blood and iron in the air? Was it the vengeful, murderous intent flowing from our opponents like a tide? Maybe it was just the realization that the Nincada had hurt a teammate; whatever caused this, my Tex changed from keeping me calm to bristling her fur and roaring for blood. She looked back at me, her eyes glowing that eerie pink glow, a complete nightmare; her teeth were bared, her eyes oozing with a primal hunger, it looked like she would pounce and rip my throat out then and there. Her glow receded, and she turned away, her focus back on the Bug-type before her.

The boy said one more sentence before our battle ended: "You do know Dark is weak to Bug too, right?"

I couldn't help but widen my eyes. I looked back to our Pokemon, hoping against hope that I could give better commands than in my Ralts's battle.

Only my Absol was missing.

No, she was everywhere.

Charging at the white bug, dashing for the trees, bounding off trunks, behind the now-confused kid. She appeared back where she stood before, resuming her growl with something in her mouth. The boy looked down and screamed; I looked where he was looking and laughed.

My Absol knew Quick Attack, and she'd just used it to steal the Giratina-damned child's right shoe. I hoped, if anything, the hilarity would last.

Her speed made her almost as untouchable as my teleporting Ralts, blurring anywhere and everywhere. Nothing the bug did would hit, and it was slowly accruing damage. Its trainer leaned in, knuckles white from his tightened fists. "Just hit the guy!", he all but shrieked out, the panic he voiced too strong to be about losing a battle. The metallic sheen creeped its way along to the tips of Nina's forlegs, her claws reflecting the sun's light into my eyes. Tex saw the Nincada leap for me, blinded, and ran with her enhanced speed…but too far to my right, and slower than when she had first used her speed. She wouldn't make it in time.

This would have been how I died: my starter fainted at best, my other Pokemon somehow running to help in the wrong direction, a boy willing to kill my Dark-type, and his Nincada reaching to claw out my brains. Now that I think about it, it's still not an ideal way to get killed; at least let me be fighting in some grand battle, not my first trainer battle since getting my Absol.

Good thing I didn't die that day. And that Natexa was sprinting at exactly the right speed to the exactly right point in space, all at exactly the right time.

Something about the insect's color composition started to change, a city waking up from a regular slumber in a land where no cities had existed before. The lights were pink, one by one switching on, surging from a central location on the Nincada's side to completely devour it's white shell with a pink malevolence, bright and neon and pain. With a shriek, it's trajectory altered—headed right into the dirt-sodden paws of my Absol.

Momentum carrying her forward, Tex's energies were focused into a singular swat, shoving the opponent further through the air on its path. I think Dialga, the legendary in charge of time, decided to mess with us that moment: it all slowed down. The few unblemished white strands on Natexa's paw left silken ghosts in her wake, as if the city's population was dead already, and they could only make peace and depart once the pink landscape itself was killed. Answering their prayer, my Dark-type swiped it all away; the landscape into a nothing of a mist, the insect to smash into a tree.

The time legend's influence ceased, and all resumed. Tex tumbled, rolling from her excess momentum, into a slump beside me, some of the Nincada's … something sticky, I didn't look, but it got on my pantleg and stuck to my skin. My ears were ringing. Why were my ears ringing? The boy was screeching again, that's why, he was screeching the whole time, and my mouth was open too, eating away at what little silence remained. When the Pokemon's body made a sharp, unearthly cracking sound against the tree, I ceased to exist.

"Here you go, young man." A nurse in uniform handed two Pokeballs to me. Blinking, looking around, I gathered my bearings, in a Pokemon Center somewhere. I had my Pokemon with me, a few extra bills in my pocket, my backpack, and the smell of iron and dirt keeping me company.