A Journey
Summary: Ash's daughter has NO interest in Pokemon training. So, Ash, being the enterprising young Master that he is, puts her into the middle of the woods in the night while she's asleep with a pack, no map, a Pokedex, and a VERY angry Pichu.
"If you want to fight Brawly, you'll have to get through me!" It was a girl of around nineteen, who looked at us with that confidence everyone in their later teens seems to have in droves.
"One on one?" Peter declared.
"I'm supposed to declare the terms here," she growled.
"Declare them then," Peter said, looking bored. I admired his nonchalant attitude.
"One on one battle," the girl grudgingly said, before exclaiming,
"Go, Meditite!" sending out a Pokemon that looked like a cross between a yoga instructor and a bulb of garlic.
"The challenged player is supposed to send out the Pokemon first, league rules." Peter said snootily, and out of the darkness behind them came a thin, leanly muscled man with a shock of vivid, long teal hair pulled back into a practical ponytail. His facial hair was black.
"Kid's right."
"Oops! I just get all overenthusiastic," she said, looking embarrassed in the dim light.
"No big. Just wait for the next wave of trainers. What are you going to do?"
"Ride it!" She answered, sounding tired.
"Sick of my surfer jokes? Just hang ten more minutes, and you're on break." She groaned and rolled her eyes, but she was smiling.
"I'm Brawly, and I'm the gym leader." The man said, shaking Peter's hand with a firm grip.
"I'm Peter," Peter said proudly.
"It's nice to meet you, Peter." Thankfully, he didn't ask for Brett or my names; that would have been awkward.
"One on one battle then, that's your style? Sounds good to me. You pick first, obviously." He switched on a light, and led them down three hallways to a large rock-strewn arena.
"Fighting types are awesome. They're just strength and power waiting to be channeled, and it's all about technique, not just attacks. With the right training in fighting attacks and working out, a level 45 Mankey can beat any top-leveled Machamp. In that way, they're a lot like people."
"Yeah, I know," Peter said smugly, calling out his Infernape soundlessly.
"C'mon, dude!" was all Brawly said, before a very familiar Machoke emerged. It was nice to see Pokemon from my homeland, no matter how aggressive.
"Wow," Brett said silently as we eased ourselves onto the gleaming metal bleachers.
The Machoke really was something to look at. It had enormous pectoral muscles, and bulging biceps so big that each was bigger than Pichu! Its triceps were nothing to scoff at either, though, and the muscled thighs looked like something out of a superhero comic. Even the hands were laced with muscle, the thumbs looking particularly impressive.
In comparison, Infernape had far less external muscle, even when it had bulked up last battle, but looked lithe, graceful, and acrobatic. Machoke stood tall and proud, his arms in a boxers' stance, whereas Infernape was slung low, prepared to leap, perhaps.
"Tell me the stats," I hissed to Brett. Brett took out the Calcudex, reading it incredibly quickly.
"Infernape's stats are all higher, but Machoke is higher leveled, knows better attacks and, oh wow…" He trailed off, gazing stupidly at the Dex.
"What?"
"Its ability…No Guard. It means that all moves will be a hundred percent accurate, just like Swift. Infernape could still dodge, but what it means is that Machoke won't ever misfire. Of course, Infernape might be less likely to misfire as well. Wow. I'll still bet Peter, though. I'm hoping the stats will trump the attacks." He pressed a button, and looked up at the battle.
Pichu hopped onto my shoulder again, and I sighed momentarily with relief at the temporary truce which battling had become.
"Go!" The referee shouted, and Brawly called, "Focus energy!"
Meanwhile, Peter, remembering last battle, yelled "Mach punch!" And as Machoke stood there in a fighter's stance, listening to his breathing, Infernape slammed his fist into Machoke's left pectoral.
Maestro cheeped in sympathy for the pained Machoke, who shot his leg out into a low kick, one which Infernape easily dodged by leaping into the air, curling up into a ball, and rolling to diminish his impact upon landing.
The fire on Infernape's head burned brighter, and Infernape hopped onto the tallest rock on the side of the arena while still being in the arena in terms of rules.
"Bulk up!" Peter called, and Infernape began flexing his muscles. Machoke used the downtime to flash a downright creepy face at Infernape. Infernape froze, and he then moved slower, so I figured that this was probably an attack Machoke was trained to use.
Peter stared ahead, biting his lip. "Taunt!" Infernape stared at him, and then began to speak in Pokemon, grunting, and pretending to be the Machoke, imitating a gross facsimile of the face Machoke made which slowed Infernape down.
Machoke growled angrily, as Infernape hopped off of the rock to meet his adversary, his muscles now bulging, although he went a bit slower.
They circled each other, and Brawly yelled, "Karate chop!" Machoke made a quick move forward, and, before Infernape could react, hit him across the tail.
"Machoke, Dynamicpunch!" Brawly called, and Brett cursed to himself. Machoke punched Infernape, and as he did, a small orange glow emitted from his fist.
Infernape began to stumble around drunkenly, his eyes almost completely dilating, reeling back from the blow, which clearly was very painful and damaging. He growled at the wall, looking very angry at the rock.
"He's confused," Brett said by way of explanation, throwing me a glance. "That move normally only has a fifty percent chance of succeeding. With Machoke's ability, though…"
"Infernape, fury swipes!" Infernape stared at Peter, lumbered towards its owner, and Infernape started clawing his own face. It disturbed me to see the expression of hatred on his face, directed back to himself again. I shuddered.
"I never should have bet…" Brett wailed.
"Why do people battle and let their Pokemon get all psychotic?" I wondered. It must be hurting Peter. For me to see Maestro go insane… that would be hell.
Infernape staggered around more, and finally clung to the underside of the bleachers, where his deep, low cries of pain sounded like a funeral dirge echoing all around us.
"Infernape, Will-O-Wisp!" Peter called, staring plaintively. Infernape must have breathed one out as commanded this time, because that I could see a glow through the slots under my feet. The Will-o-Wisp found its own way to Machoke, making sure to sting it right on his left hand.
"Good job! I knew you could do it!" Peter said, and Infernape leaped out of the bleachers. He was still confused, but he had a purpose; to win. Besides, fighting Pokemon didn't appear to have a lot of intelligence to lose, although Infernape did seem sharper than the Machoke by far.
"Ring of fire, Infernape!" Peter called right as Brawly yelled "Finish it Machoke, Cross Chop!" Infernape accidentally, of course, blew a ring of fire around itself, but just as Machoke was diving towards Infernape fists out, Infernape backflipped out of the ring, and Machoke was trapped, and his burn was angry and red, throbbing in the heat.
"Infernape, Bulk up and Calm Mind!" Peter called, using the opportunity while Machoke was trapped to raise his stats. Even more, Infernape bulked up his muscles, and then, hopping onto a far-off rock first, began to meditate in the lotus position, making hand symbols with his long, dexterous hands as he did so.
"Infernape, flare blitz!" Peter yelled. Brett winced, and gripped the edge of his seat, his knuckles white as mayonnaise.
Infernape from his mouth and tail summoned a wrathful storm of fire, spraying a wide bunch of it. The fire was all white, and was extremely hot, and only a second after it hit Machoke, who crumpled to the ground immediately, Brawly recalled Machoke, the Pokeball which bounced back to him semi-melted and distorted in shape.
"Nice Infernape you've got there," Brawly commented casually. "I've never fought against one before. It's got a nice set of attacks. But let me give you this advice; try teaching it martial arts, maybe send it to a dojo for a couple of months, to hone its fighting side. Being so flexible and acrobatic, he would be great at wushu. Machoke here's a more standard karate fighter. So, I have a proposition for you," Brawly continued, eyeing Peter as a prospect, "how about trading your Infernape for my Machoke?"
Peter was about to comment, but Brawly kept talking right through it. "Just hear me out, okay? If Machoke is traded, he will evolve into a Machamp. This would just be for a couple of months; we'll trade back, and I'll get a Machamp, and you'll get a much stronger Infernape then you've ever had! You know, learning to command different Pokemon is a key to becoming a master." He added glibly, guessing accurately that Mastery was Peter's goal.
"No way," Peter said, clenching his jaw. "I can train him just fine. Keep your wushu or whatever you call it."
"Fine by me," Brawly said, although his down-slanting eyebrows indicated that this was not the case. "But you're really missing out. Here's your badge." Brawly all but threw the sewn badge into Peter's outstretched hand.
"By the way, you only won by luck. Don't believe that it was your skill which let Infernape burn Machoke while confused."
"I never said anything of the sort," Peter said icily.
"Just remember, a conceited trainer is a hungry trainer." Brawly now practically launched a few bills at Peter. I didn't really understand the strange masculine power play that was going on in front of me, and I doubted I ever would. Peter smiled uneasily, and walked outside, with me and my Pokemon in tow.
Brett came back a minute later, holding a fistful of money, which he used his Calcudex to transport away.
"Well, looks as though we've won again, Peter," Brett said happily. Peter smiled.
"I knew I would," he said confidently, but his eyes seemed to waver.
"I'm going to go watch Lavender!" Brett said, and he walked towards the concert hall, following a gaggle of contest girls headed for the same place.
"You up for lunch?" Peter asked me.
"Sure!" I said, far preferring lunch- alone!- with Peter to any alternative insipid contest viewing. It was good to stretch my legs anyways. Pichu didn't shock me, but sat still on my shoulder. This was a weird day indeed.
"You okay?" I asked, once we slid into a pasta buffet and had filled our respective bowls that looked large enough to be small tubs with steaming pasta.
"It was just creepy, seeing Infernape like that." He said slowly, and I couldn't have agreed more. Infernape was a titan, a Colussus, and even in his fight with Ambipom, he still looked so much more majestic and capable. Here, though, to see him become insane was crazy, excuse the pun.
"Yeah. That's the main reason I don't want to battle. Maestro's like my hairy, rodent-faced brother." I said, this part playfully poking Maestro's head. He snapped at my finger jokingly, and then shook his fur out. "I couldn't stand to see him, all sanity gone with a single attack." The image of Infernape clawing at his face, trying to tear off the layers of his very own skin, that was burned into my brain as though attached by a smoldering Will-o-Wisp.
"Yeah. And Infernape; I've been with him for three years now. That's three thirteenths of my life I see stumbling around." Peter said. "And I wouldn't give him up. Even though I know Brawly would make him stronger and a better fighter. I don't want him to leave me." His expression was dark as he said this.
"Yeah," I repeated quietly to myself. How did my dad have over thirty Pokemon in his lifetime, and be attached to all of them? While I know that to him Pikachu was special, much like Maestro, he had a friendship with all of them. I thought of Chopin trying to pierce his exoskeleton with his own arms, or singing off key, two things that were practically inconceivable. Chopin was so smart, so nice, so perplexed, such a fast learner, so curious, and of course, so ardently in love with music. Who was I to subject him to danger of any kind?