Chapter 31

Breakthrough

Squirtle and Bein were alone on the dim path through Weird Wood. Peroo was gone. Loria was gone. Quil was gone.

The idea of helping Quil through his fear of water seemed foolish in retrospect. A tiny Squirtle's delusion that ignoring the silent pines would render them impotent. Now it was all too obvious that the forest had only been biding its time. Squirtle was too late. The paranoia he'd been feeling inside had been correct. He should have trusted his Pokémon body to know when something was amiss. If only he could take it all back!

"What do you think we should do Bein?" he whispered, stepping even closer to the Cubone.

Bein eyed the wide trunks near the path. "Wait. They'll come back."

"How do you-"

Bein side-stepped to fix his eyes on something behind Squirtle's head. A faint sound of wood creaking. Squirtle spun around.

Four feet above the forest floor, a red eye glided toward him. The eye shone with a fell light within its black socket. This was the eye from his nightmare. The same red eye that had swallowed Quil during their last passage through Weird Wood.

Squirtle found himself on his shell back, his chin tucked to keep his eyes on the approaching apparition. He must have tried to backpedal and tripped. That didn't matter though. Nothing mattered. It was coming. His life was over.

Above the eye were wickedly curving horns. Beneath it, a long body of pure darkness clad in bark-like armor. It drew itself toward the path on six gnarled legs, skittering in slow motion like a Spinarak composed of ancient, creaking wood. The monster had two arms ending with huge claws made for clutching a Pokémon and never letting go. A chilling moan came from its head. Its tone was a warning. Yet Squirtle couldn't have moved if he wanted to. He was helpless, more paralyzed than if he had an Electric-type's current coursing through his muscles. Ghosts were real, and they were horrible. This was the end.

A bone was shoved in front of his face. Bein said, "Trevenant. Never seen one. Any 'mon is fine though. Been too long since we had a battle."

Trevenant? That was a Pokémon species. Squirtle recognized the word.

"That scared?" Bein was looking down at him. "Grab the bone or you'll be knocked around by the Trevenant."

This was a battle? The ghost, though, the ghost was coming to eat their souls. No, it was a Trevenant. A Pokémon. The ghost was a Pokémon? That meant...

"R-right," Squirtle stammered. Bein hauled him to his feet once he grabbed the proffered bone.

The Trevenant had arrived. It bent sharply at the breaks in its wooden armor and slammed its crest of leafy horns down at Squirtle. He summoned strength into his legs to dodge but the shakiness was still there. He couldn't leap out of the way as he normally might.

The horns pushed against Squirtle's shell and skin like a stamp. In that moment, the horns felt like they were pulling the moisture from his body. Like rootlets had dug into his flesh and into microscopic openings between his shell's scutes to draw out his latent water. He could feel the Trevenant leeching his strength. The sensation was unlike anything he'd yet experienced as a Pokémon or a human.

Pain. True, unadulterated pain. More physically painful than any attack he'd sustained in battle or otherwise. Squirtle screamed in surprise at the new sensation. The Nuzleaf's leaf projectile cutting past his tail during the Karprest escape had hurt, but that had been a glancing blow from a long distance. The two times he'd been jolted by electricity, he'd either been instantly knocked out or drained instantly of so much strength that weariness overrode the possibility of pain. This strike by the Trevenant was new and horrible.

The Trevenant's leafy horns rose away as the Pokémon straightened. A deeper side of Squirtle clawed its way to the surface in response to the pain.

Fight. Fight!

He crouched low then fired himself into the part of the Trevenant that would be the lower trunk, if it were an actual tree. The black core of the Trevenant swelled and lengthened where Squirtle was aiming. The pieces of wood on its exterior were drawn away to expose more of the blackness. Squirtle winced before the coming impact.

His flight was lasting a second too long. He opened his eyes fully in time to see a legitimate tree trunk rapidly approaching his face.

THUNK.

Squirtle fell, cracking a low branch of pine needles before striking the earth. Once he got to his feet, he could see Bein in close-quarters combat with the Trevenant on the path.

As quickly as his battling instincts had emerged, they now quieted while Squirtle wrapped his mind around what had happened. He certainly hadn't missed with his Tackle. The Trevenant was too big and too close for that. He must have gone through the Trevenant somehow. Right through its shadowy body. Was that even possible? If so, this Pokémon was almost as horrifying as he'd first thought. How could they defeat an enemy that could not be hit by their techniques? Not to mention the devastatingly painful and effective attacks it had at its disposal.

This really is a nightmare, he thought with despair. I have to help Bein, but I can't harm the Trevenant! And I don't want to take another hit like that. I'll be done for. What can I do? Think, Squirtle.

The Trevenant was no nightmare, it was real. It obeyed laws. Like every other Pokémon. It could unleash battling techniques. It would be weakened by them, in turn. It had a finite constitution. It had at least one Type. What was its Type? Grass, certainly, as it so closely resembles a tree. That would explain the pain and how weak he felt. The black core, though? The glowing red eye? The cold moan?

It's a Ghost-type! he realized. That's why my Tackle did nothing, as it relies on an ordinary physical impact to inflict harm.

Bein swung at the Trevenant with his bone. A seed lay atop his skull helmet, secured to his body by thin green shoots that seemed to pulse in tandem. Squirtle cast his mind back to the early days of his old life.

How would trainers fight against Ghost-types? That's right, they used elemental techniques only. Squirtle had to use his water! Even though it wouldn't work very well against the Trevenant's other Type, it was all he had.

Squirtle darted in close. The shot was an easy one with his opponent's back turned and attention elsewhere. When his Water Gun successfully struck and pushed the Trevenant off balance, Squirtle was relieved. He was beginning to feel like himself again. In control. Ready to optimize the situation.

"Don't use your head Bein!" he called, referring to the Cubone's tendency to headbutt his opponents using his skull helmet.

"I know," Bein grunted. "Ghost." His voice was uncharacteristically labored. The seed must have been doing a number on him. Squirtle wondered if he could pry it off Bein, but put the idea from his mind after a moment. He didn't want to come into contact with anything else that was typed as Grass.

The Trevenant turned and lurched forward on its six root-legs to strike Squirtle with the two in the fore. Simultaneously its body leaned forward to tower over Squirtle as it screamed at a chilling pitch. Squirtle skidded away. He could feel his body weakening further as it drew on his energy reserves to resist the damage. Once at rest, he dug in the claws of his hands and feet as anchors. He drew water into his throat in preparation to use his Bubble. The image of the red eye glaring down at him flashed in his mind. The scream echoed in his ears. When he tried to expel the water into bubbles, he flinched. He just couldn't do it. Then, like a shiver reaching the end of his spine, the feeling was gone. Gathering himself once more, he succeeded in unleashing a wash of bubbles at the Trevenant.

Bein landed another solid strike with his bone as the bubbles exploded against their opponent. Neither attack seemed to have much effect, however. Either the Trevenant was unusually tough, or there was still much more Squirtle had to learn before he could claim understanding of all of the Type interplay in a Pokémon battle.

The fight raged for half a minute longer. Bein was struck by the wooden horns like Squirtle had been. The seed finally peeled away, but the damage from both techniques had been done. Squirtle could see Bein struggling to keep up his end of the battle. Squirtle fired off two more of his Water Gun technique, and found himself on the receiving end of what appeared to be an ordinary Tackle from the Trevenant in turn.

At last, the Trevenant surrendered to their combined might. With both a vocal groan and a groan from its wooden components, it tipped over and collapsed along its trunk. Bein and Squirtle staggered toward the fallen Pokémon. By unspoken consent, they supported each other as they stepped in front of the Trevenant's glowing red eye. Bein bowed. Squirtle dipped his head. Then, haltingly, they made their way toward the place on the path where Team Equalize had last been all together.

They'd barely stepped away from the Trevenant when they were met with three familiar faces from further up the path. Squirtle's grimace of fatigue deepened into a frown as the new arrivals slowed to a stop. Peroo was there. Loria was there. And Quil was there. All three of them wore rueful expressions. Guilt was written all over them. Squirtle would have asked them to explain themselves, but the effort in his current exhausted state wasn't worth it. He knew they'd share soon enough.

"Squirtle," said Peroo from his perch on a branch overhead. "I am sorrier than-"

"No, I must also bear the blame," Loria interrupted while shaking her head. "Quil was distracted by the-"

"Don't say I didn't agree to it, Loria!" Quil said heatedly. "I know Squirtle best, and I let it go on long enough for this to happen!"

Bein spoke up tiredly, surprising Squirtle. "Didn't you hear...the Trevenant? Why...the delay?"

Peroo and Quil now looked even guiltier. Loria perked up with a quick smile.

"She thought she sensed a third 'mon," Quil explained. "We only came after I heard Squirtle scream in pain." His ears twisted backward and sagged as he looked pointedly at the ground.

"The original goal." Peroo's tone was like a cautiously optimistic reminder. "Accomplished that, didn't we?"

No one rushed to answer. Squirtle sighed and finally forced himself to speak. "Someone please explain from the beginning."

Four mouths opened. Squirtle anticipated what was about to happen and quickly amended himself. He jerked his limp arm toward Quil. "You."

Quil took a deep breath and began. His voice started off tonelessly, highly controlled. By the end, Quil was as contrite as Squirtle had ever heard him.

"We all noticed how you were eying the trees and canopy, Squirtle. I realized at one point that you had probably only thought to start my water training to distract us all from our surroundings. Peroo suggested we help you overcome your fear of the forest. All four of us, Bein included, thought it was a good, kind idea. You know, since you were being so nice by helping me. A training for you in return."

"We decided to hide behind the trees and be quiet the next time you went ahead. Bein knew about the plan, in case you got really scared. We were going to come back onto the path a minute after you walked past our hiding place. Then I heard you scream. A wild 'mon crossing near the path wasn't part of the plan."

"Plan," Loria said, drawing out the word sarcastically.

Quil cringed and sank lower. "It was a Planter, wasn't it? Must've hurt."

"Grass beats Ground too," Bein muttered. It seemed Bein was none too happy about their idea's outcome either.

Squirtle sighed and broke away from the Cubone to stand on the edge of the path, facing the sea of pine trees. He endured the tide of apologies to his back, and ignored the guilty conversation that continued behind him. Their idea had had a noble spirit. Helping someone out in return for the help they'd given was a pure, healthy sentiment. What they had only now realized, however, was that terrifying someone to cure them of fear could often be as harmful as helpful. While Squirtle did indeed feel that Weird Wood had lost some of its bite, he now had to carry the recollection of the terrors he experienced evermore. The disappearance had been staged. The horror had been real.

"I appreciate the essence of your idea," he said to them all, turning back around. Some of his strength had returned. "Really, I do. I only wish you'd examined your method more closely. Did you ask yourselves why I was moving so slowly with Quil, instead of pushing him in a pool and being done with it?"

'No', came the silent reply. Words were not needed.

Squirtle looked into each of their faces. The way he was talking down to them was like a parent scolding his unruly children. As if he were above them. As if he knew best. A new feeling seeped into Squirtle's heart.

I'm done with that. I won't delude myself that I know any better. I know now that I can make mistakes far larger than this one.

"The mistake was an honest one though, wasn't it?" The edge on Squirtle's voice was gone. "Thanks for thinking of me, all of you. Peroo, Loria, Bein, Quil."

The first three Pokémon mentioned relaxed. Quil grew more tense, saying, "That's all? You really aren't mad? Weren't you going to...shouldn't we talk more about why the idea was a bad one?"

Squirtle shook his head. He was amazed at how good he felt at letting the matter go. Truly, it was far easier to forgive and forget than fight to make sure everyone knew which way was the correct way. If such a way even existed.

"Let's forget about it Quil, I think it's better that way. Want to try that last pool? Bein's been on point with his earthwork; I bet the water's still high."

"Perfect," Quil said darkly. But he was smiling.

Quil, after getting back into the groove of calming himself in the face of water, successfully conquered the final pool. Cheers and congratulations were lumped upon him. Squirtle considered Quil a graduate of his improvised and compacted version of systematic desensitization therapy. Shame there was no river or pond nearby with which to recreate their narrow escape out of Karprest all those days ago. That would be a true test of Quil's ability to reign in his terror.

With that diversion concluded, the team pressed onward along the path with much less excitement. The path went onward, onward, and onward some more. Squirtle could recall how short by comparison his previous sojourns in Weird Wood had been. This portion of the wood must be the absolute thickest out of the entire swath of pines coating the faces of the mountain range. The heart of the forest.

At long last, the trees thinned. More light seeped through the canopy to brighten the path. The trunks grew narrower. Hints of a breeze whispered over Squirtle's cheek. He could see needles on the nearest tree wobble gently. The path relaxed into playful turns. Its flight straight out of the forest had ended.

"We might be able to do that river training after all," said Quil dully.

Squirtle peered forward along the path and gasped in delight when he saw a sizable stream far ahead. The stream was angled across the path. They would have to swim across it. Perfect! Then he noticed the rickety wooden bridge. Not so lucky.

"There's a bridge," he muttered.

Quil laughed with joy. "Yeah, there is!"

Beyond the stream lay a recognizable rocky and gray landscape. The stream appeared to be a border of sorts between Weird Wood and the region of Heartless Heights around Cavetown. Given the amount of time that the forest had eaten up, Cavetown no doubt lay within an hour or two. Squirtle glanced through the pine foliage at the sun's position. Unfortunately, it'd be dark in less than an hour. The group would be forced to rest sometime soon after crossing the stream, and finish the journey in the morning.

The wooden planks creaked as Squirtle first set foot on the bridge. If it had once featured railings or any ornamentation, time had long since worn them away. Though it was a few scant feet wide, the bridge only needed to cross a twenty or so foot stream. The danger of falling in and being swept away was miniscule thanks to the stream's shallow depth and calm flow.

Squirtle stopped on the bridge's apex to admire the view both upstream and downstream. Quil scampered past to reach the other side as soon as possible, but Loria stopped as well. Apparently she too appreciated the water's natural beauty.

"Where will you go now?" Squirtle asked as they watched the stream flow into the darkness of Weird Wood. "Karprest was your home."

Loria hummed to herself thoughtfully. "I do not wish to be part of Karprest. Perhaps I will mimic the beauty of this stream. Meandering through the land until I find a new home."

"Ah. I can see you doing that. It suits you, I think."

The stream trickled by underneath the bridge. Smooth stones of brown and green paved the bottom. "A new place to belong will find me, one day," Loria continued. "I will flow like this stream until then."

"I'm going to get a closer look at said stream for a moment, before we move on," Squirtle said, toeing the edge of the bridge. He sensed Loria grow tense, and she glanced upstream.

"You wouldn't be alone."

Something was drifting downstream toward the bridge. Two orange feet and an orange-furred head poked out of the surface. Squirtle squinted to identify the Pokémon, but Peroo flapped to a high branch and called it out first.

"That's a Buizel, it is. Typical in a brisk little waterway like this one."

Quil and Bein prepared themselves for a fight on the far side of the bridge while Squirtle and Loria watched the Pokémon float closer. Appearing to notice them, it drew its body upright in the water to get a better look. Squirtle was struck by the similarity of its body plan and coloration to Quil's. Swap orange for midnight blue and stretch its body out a bit more, and you'd nearly have a Quilava.

"Yes! Yes yes yes!" the Buizel was shouting as it floated closer. His voice was excited as could be. He leaned forward, accelerating toward the bridge. The water above his tails frothed and bubbled. Squirtle placed his hands on the bridge's edge and readied his Water Gun. The Buizel, however, slowed himself at speaking distance and flopped onto his back once more.

"Fight me. All five of you at once. Don't hold back."

Peroo chirped in surprised laughter. Loria had no visible reaction. Quil, Bein, and Squirtle exchanged looks of puzzlement.

The Buizel threw up his paws."It's not hard to understand! Battle me! Or are you scared of a single unevolved Buizel?" He laughed heartily at what was evidently a joke.

"He doesn't have the wild in his eyes," said Quil quietly over the burbling stream. "He's not a Zapper. But he still wants to battle? Against five of us?"

"Might be having trouble falling asleep," Bein said wryly.

Like an old friend stopping by to visit, Squirtle felt his curiosity come knocking. He raised his voice to his fellow Water-type.

"What's your story? Why do you want to battle us so badly?"

"Name's Zell, what are yours, great, glad introductions are done." In a startling display of water mastery, he spat a squirt of water at each of their faces in quick succession. Even over the great distance between the Buizel and each member of Team Equalize, every squirt was aimed perfectly. The tiny Water Guns were so meager as to be harmless, but Squirtle dutifully met the one aimed at his face with a Water Gun of his own.

Before anyone else could say a word, Zell continued with a rapid explanation. "I've been living near the peaks recently, and I'm on my way to visit a friend a few miles south along the Karp. The 'mon I've fought upstream from here are laughably weak - swim swim, fight fight, easy easy, you get it. Now here's a challenge: five travelers, every one of 'em a different species and Type. We're all looking energetic enough, so let's fight! We'll try our best, no regrets, no guilt, no anger, a friendly battle like any other. If you give your full effort, I'll give mine too. I always do. Ready?"

Squirtle looked at his companions, bewildered, but each of them looked ready to fight. Like it was the obvious course of action. Quil was the only one who seemed hesitant like him.

"Is there a problem over there, candle-head?" Zell called over, right on cue. "Are you too stupid to see that it's five of you and one of me?"

Quil's fires flickered as some emotion ran through him.

"And you, blue-skin, are you afraid to be outdone by a fellow unevolved Wet? Or maybe you want to stay dry?" His eyes drifted lazily to the side. "I understand. I hate it when I get water up my nose too."

Oh, it's on.

Squirtle lowered himself to all fours once again. He needed to be ready to dodge or strike in reaction to the Buizel's first move. Zell's casually perfect accuracy indicated that the Buizel was not to be trifled with. Even five on one, a situation where victory was virtually guaranteed, one of them might be knocked out. If they ended up in the stream's current, they could float back into Weird Wood with the rest of the team too distracted or tired to haul them out.

Why though? Squirtle wondered in the tense stillness before the chaos of battle derailed his thoughts. He won't be improving his skills by being immediately overwhelmed by our combined strength. This battle isn't beneficial for him. Why is he so adamant about battling us?

Zell's muzzle stretched into a grin. "Finally all six of us want to battle. To be honest, you never had a choice." His lips pulled back even farther, revealing his sharp white teeth. "With your help, I'll become even tougher."

The water around Zell swirled around and over him. The Buizel jetted out of the stream and into the air from an explosion of water. In a trice he was arcing toward the bridge, trailing a tube of water in his wake. Squirtle could see him still grinning behind the water flowing over him as he closed the distance. By throwing himself sideways along the bridge, Squirtle was able to completely avoid contact, but Loria had not moved swiftly enough. Zell plowed into her, sending her flipping through the air. When she struck the ground next to the stream, she groaned but did not sit up.

What? How? One hit? One single technique?

Zell rejoined the stream on the other side of the bridge. Peroo was already diving down. He raised his wings and brought them down hard to send a blast of cutting wind in the Buizel's direction. Simultaneously, Squirtle spotted a flurry of fiery embers from Quil drifting down onto the Buizel's position.

Zell's eyes flitted between both threats for a mere second before he pulled water above his head with both paws and submersed himself in the shallow stream. Peroo's technique struck the water with enough force to generate a crater of air in the stream deep enough to reveal the streambed. Yet Zell was gone, now a blur of orange weaving upstream. As the water around the impact site slammed back together, Quil's embers were consumed with a loud hiss of steam.

Bein was standing near the edge of the stream with his bone raised for a throw or swing. Without a target, and obviously unwilling to jump into the water, Bein was useless until the Buizel showed himself. Peroo flapped upstream, following Zell's course. Right after he passed over Squirtle's head on the bridge, Zell exploded out of the stream once again. His water-encased body rocketed straight into Peroo from below. The Tranquill squawked as his body was compressed and sent tumbling haphazardly. Peroo's body trailed water droplets as he fell to the ground like Loria had. And again, once he met the earth, he remained where he'd landed.

Squirtle fired his Water Gun at a sharp upward angle to meet the Buizel at the height of his trajectory. He was rewarded with the Buizel being blasted out of his aquatic cocoon. Zell's limbs flailed for a moment as he tried to orient himself. That was when Bein's bone pegged him in the skull. The bone bounced off to land right back in the Cubone's grasp, while Zell plummeted. Bein was spinning around for another release of his bone as soon as he caught it, this one a back-handed release. The bone spun toward the Buizel and struck again just before he splashed into the stream.

Bein had never thrown his bone like that nor set it ricocheting back to his hand, so Squirtle was momentarily distracted. The Cubone must have expanded his repertoire of techniques. Squirtle blinked and returned his attention to the threat of the lone Buizel. The moment he located the flash of orange, Zell's head popped out to spew a stream of water at him.

The Bubble he'd been preparing stopped dead in his mouth. The move Zell had just executed was no Water Gun. No. The volume and pressure of the water was far too overwhelming to be called a mere Water Gun. Squirtle had no idea how the Buizel could propel so much water with so much force, but he had the privilege of experiencing the technique collide with his face.

For a few seconds, Squirtle's entire world was water. More water than he could ever want. It was in his eyes, his nostrils, his mouth. His legs couldn't find purchase. It dawned on him that he was in the middle of the stream. By the time he broke the surface to look for the battle, it was almost over.

Zell was standing tall on the Heartless Heights side of the stream. His chest swelled. He was going to use the same devastating water technique he'd used against Squirtle. Bein lunged forward and delivered a solid blow to the Buizel's side with his bone before being completely enveloped in the rush of water from Zell's mouth. The Buizel leaned forward to balance himself against what must have been immense force from the water stream.

Squirtle powered his tail left and right in order to speed closer to the battle as a drenched Bein was thrown against a tree. His eyes were closed when he collapsed at the base of the trunk. Quil exhaled a thick black smoke onto the ground at his feet that immediately concealed him from view. In response, Zell leaped backward and upward in a graceful backflip. At the peak of his arc while his body was briefly parallel to the ground, Squirtle saw his eyes scanning the battlefield. A smile crossed his features once his eyes met Squirtle's.

Here comes another attack, I'm sure of it.

Squirtle sent a stream of bubbles to the spot at the edge of the stream where the Buizel was going to land. Fortunately, his aim was dead on. Zell fell through the forerunners of the bubbles and grunted at the force from the many small detonations. Nonetheless, his movement did not slow.

Always in motion, Zell leaped the short distance into the shallows of the stream's edge. Then with a peculiar spin he kicked one foot below the stream's surface in Squirtle's direction. The water between Squirtle and Zell seemed to come alive with the Buizel's intentions. The water around Squirtle quivered and began rotating in response to the motion Zell had made. Reflexively, Squirtle lurched away, but the spinning streamwater had him firmly in its grasp. The water was rotating around him, forming a whirlpool with Squirtle at its center. Whenever he swam outward, the current pulled him back in. Zell had already turned his attention back to the dark cloud of smoke behind him.

"Quil, he's coming!" Squirtle yelled before preparing yet another Water Gun. Zell strode toward Quil's Smokescreen without a backward glance. Squirtle let loose, striking Zell right at the edge. He stumbled into the curtain of smoke and vanished from sight.

The other members of Team Equalize were still down for the count. As much as it pained him to admit it, Quil wouldn't last a second against Zell. Not only was Quil a Fire-type, but his fear of water had not been eradicated. An intimidated Pokémon could never give it their all. For that same reason, Squirtle couldn't afford to let Zell's power subdue his courage. Winning the battle was up to him now.

He struggled in the whirlpool's grasp and felt its momentum begin to slow. The move could only persist so long by itself. A flash of insight. Squirtle swam with the whirlpool's current, riding the swirl. He didn't have enough speed to escape the center, but soon enough...

Quil cried out with pain from within the smoke cloud. The glimpses that Squirtle had of the area were few as he circled the center of the whirlpool, but he could see the smoke was beginning to fade. Suddenly Quil was flung from the darkness toward the stream. He rolled and rolled, finally stopping with half of his body immersed in the shallows. Squirtle could tell how weakened he was. Every inch of his fur was soaked with water. Even so, Quil dragged himself out of the shallows and laid down on dry land.

At last, Squirtle reckoned he had achieved the 'escape velocity' of the dwindling whirlpool. He angled away from the center and fired himself toward the edge of the stream with a final whip of his tail. His belly skimmed along the stream's surface. Upon reaching the shallows, he planted his hands in the ground and somersaulted upward onto his feet.

Zell was waiting for him. The Buizel's bright colors contrasted sharply with the smoke remnants drifting apart behind him. Though he stood tall, he was shaking his left arm as if to wring out an ache. His fur was wet, blackened, and disheveled in various places. More significantly, he was panting. The battle hadn't gone entirely in the Buizel's favor. Squirtle still had a chance if he could find some advantage, or some weakness to exploit.

Zell shifted his left foot to a wider stance. His mouth became a growl and his eyes locked onto Squirtle. Water oozed out of every part of his body, and in a flash, the Buizel was enveloped in swirling waters.

Incredible, thought Squirtle. He didn't try to hide his envy. This is a true master of his element. Even outside the stream, water is his to command. It's an extension of his body. He commands his Pool as easily as his arms or legs.

Zell crouched low. He was going to jet right into Squirtle and end the battle. The waters swirled faster to become a streamlined torpedo with the tip lined up with the Buizel's nose.

How? I don't understand, but I need to know!

"Wait!" he shouted. Zell straightened within his aquatic vessel. "How are you so tough? How are your moves so insanely strong?"

The water peeled away and splashed against the ground like a discarded jacket. The Buizel crossed his arms and stared at Squirtle.

"Why're you flapping your tongue during a battle? You should be focused on your moves. On winning."

Squirtle shook his head. "I know, but I'm about to be knocked out, right? Or close to it. I have to know before you continue downstream. How did you become this...force of nature?"

One side of Zell's muzzle quirked up. "I strive to become the toughest battler this world has ever seen! A common goal, I know, I know. That won't stop me. I'll keep swimming the waterways of these lands getting better and better. Every 'mon will know my name. Even the Zappers will tremble when they hear it!"

"What happened to living in Heartless Heights and visiting a friend on the Karp?"

Zell flicked his words away with the back of one paw. "I wasn't lying about those, but they're both temporary. I never stay put for long. I have work to do." He widened his stance again. "Satisfied?"

If the Buizel attacked now, it would be over. He needed more time. "No, wait. Shouldn't you have evolved into a Floatzel with how many battles you've fought?"

Zell's expression hardened into something like icy determination. There was a mixture of longing and conviction when he spoke. "Each time I use a technique, I can feel my buoy swelling. My fur itching. Every time I take a hit, I can feel my body trying to change. It wants to evolve. But I won't let it!"

He sliced the air with a paw. "I'll prove you don't even need to evolve to be the best! I, Zell the Buizel, will be the first of my kind. I'll be in every river-tale. Every last one." The smile was back. "Thanks for helping me on my way, you curious Squirtle. Now brace yourself."

Squirtle was already quite tired. The torrent he'd endured had been very draining, and the whirlpool had been icing on the cake. One hit, maybe two thanks to his Type and durable shell, and he'd be out of it like the others. What could he do to defeat Zell?

Their shared resistance to offensive Water techniques was both a blessing and a curse. It had no doubt gotten him this far, even if Zell had prioritized the others first. On the flip side, Squirtle could inflict little damage with his water or bubble streams. That left withdrawing into his shell, whipping his tail about distractingly, or a simple Tackle. Withdrawing would help little at this point, and Zell was too fast to provide ample warning anyway. The 'Tail Whip' technique was unsuitable as a sole combatant. Was Tackle really all that remained? He glanced left and right for some creative solution to winning the battle. Pine trees, branches. Stones. Dirt. Bridge. No, no. Nothing came to mind.

Bein's backpack. It was tempting, but was Squirtle really going to use up the expensive and invaluable supplies for a battle like this? Plus, running all the way to Bein and fumbling with the backpack's pouches was guaranteed to be too slow.

Water enveloped Zell again. Desperate, Squirtle cast his mind back through his recent memories. In his mind, his arms were outstretched to claw at every bit of information that passed. He needed something, anything. Most prominent were the memories of Quil's improvement in the face of water, his nemesis. He recalled Quil's initial fear and tentativeness. Then, slowly and by admirable willpower, Quil had achieved success. He had done what needed to be done. He'd faced his problem head-on and conquered it. Really, it was that simple.

Squirtle knew what he had to do, but his fear of failure had been incapacitating him. Tackle. With everything he had. Earlier, he'd said it himself. An intimidated Pokémon could never give it their all. Fear was a losing strategy. Now was the time to boldly attack. It was sure better than getting nailed while still reaching for a solution. What was he waiting for?

He dropped to all fours and let his fighting spirit take full control. Zell's smile fell and he replied to Squirtle's snarl with a growling bark of his own. The water around Zell swirled faster. He crouched in preparation to spring forward.

Squirtle was sprinting on all fours to meet his opponent. One thought dominated his mind: take the Buizel down.

In response to his need, he became aware of something deep in his core. A nugget of warmth, like a burning coal ready to burst apart and unleash its heat throughout his body. Squirtle hardly gave it a passing thought as he allowed it to do so; more energy was what he needed. His view shimmered and brightened, like the sun was in his eyes. Sunlight was warming his face, his tail, his shell, his entire body. Vibrant energy was coursing through him.

He stopped his charge to allow the energy the chance to work its magic. Far from a feeling of violation or intrusion, the experience felt like the most natural thing in the world. Every piece of his body was molded and changed from within. His brow grew more pronounced. Fangs extended over his hard lower lip. Strands of hair sprouted from the bottom of his shell, concealing his tail with smooth curls. Long ears emerged from his taut skin before being covered in the same fur. His tiny fingers were overtaken by thickening, whitening claws. All the while, his feet pressed harder against the ground. His weight was rapidly increasing. The ground receded. He was growing much taller.

Joy leaped in Squirtle's heart. He knew very well what was happening to him and welcomed the change. Here was a tangible result of his progress and improvement, goals he had always strove for. With his new form, he had a better chance than ever at beating the Buizel in their duel.

The light faded. Zell was waiting with the water still whirling around his form. His face was eager with anticipation, a match for the new vigor Squirtle could feel in his muscles.

Wouldn't want to keep him waiting, would I? He grinned. His new fangs pressed comfortably against his lip.

Zell launched himself straight ahead as Squirtle dug his toe claws into the ground and sprinted forward anew. A primal abandon seized Squirtle. He opened his larger mouth wide and bit down hard as Zell powered into the front of his shell. Squirtle's jaws ripped through the water and slammed shut on the Buizel's rubbery cheek.

Squirtle's new ears caught nothing but the roar of water as Zell continued his drive into Squirtle's shell. Water was beating against him, the pressure from Zell's technique shaking out all of his energy. Squirtle bit down harder. Zell veered skyward. The water blasting out behind him propelled them both into the air. They remained connected by Squirtle's jaws and Zell's spear-point of water.

For almost five seconds they soared upward. Squirtle's jaw tired. He released his grip in order to relax for another bite, when the water surrounding Zell broke apart into individual ribbons and droplets. Only two dripping, airborne Pokémon remained. No Pokémon technique lasted forever, and the intensive technique that Zell had been using must have been difficult to maintain.

Squirtle lunged for another bite on the Buizel, but the inches separating them was a vast crevasse when Squirtle had nothing to push his feet against. The reasoning aspect of Squirtle rose to the surface as the problem presented itself. He could rotate around, then shoot out some water to redirect his body back toward the Buizel. If he waited for the apex of their flight upward, which was coming up in a second, he might be lucky enough for it to work.

As Squirtle drifted slowly away from Zell and their upward momentum ran out, a view of the picturesque forest and mountain slopes all around presented itself to Squirtle above the treetops. Squirtle's reason realized another problem at the sight: he was about to plummet more than a hundred feet to the hard ground below. Possibly strike the unforgiving wood of some thick branches. Possibly smash into the dense stones of the shallow stream. Biting Zell could wait.

Zell waved his arms and tails in an obvious attempt to place his feet below him. Squirtle expected he would re-use the same Water technique again to slow his fall, but he doubted it would be enough to save the Buizel from a bone-rattling impact. Squirtle withdrew his head and limbs, shuddering at the unexpected sensation of the silken fur of his ears and tail brushing against their shell rims. He arranged himself into the brace position he'd perfected with time. The ground grew larger every time his shell's rotation brought it into view. At the instant of impact he threw his weight against the inside of his shell.

THOOM.