Disclaimer: Pokémon? I hardly know the guy!
… … … Boo.
I don't own it.
Swift as the wind. Silent as the forest. Fierce as the flame. Stalwart as the mountain.
This was the battle standard of the great Takeda Shingen, and the advice of Sun Tzu in his Art of War. Being a Grass-Type Pokémon, only the 'Silent as the forest' portion of this credo comes naturally to me, but it matters little. A true warrior can become even what he was never meant to be.
I am Inigo, the Treecko. I have trained under Master Axel for over a year now. I am not sure whether my previous master would approve… after all, Axel has never done anything to garner the respect of a Pokémon such as myself… or any of his team members; he does not even own a single Gym Badge. But I trust him, and in the few instances when it has mattered over the past year, that trust has been rewarded.
The relationship we have as Pokémon and trainer is an interesting one by any standard, in that most of my training is entirely self-imposed. The amount of freedom Axel affords me in training is unheard of, or so I've been told, and makes me think sometimes that he sees me not as a pet or Pokémon… but as an equal.
This, as he probably knows, makes my respect for him grow all the more, and my normally rigorous training methods have actually increased in vigor since my capture. I will not let this man down. I owe him far too much.
So when the day of the tournament arrived, it was only natural that I woke up before the sun rose to begin warming up. As per usual, I dashed full speed towards the great cliffs, throwing myself off and lashing onto the cliff face with a vine near the bottom. I paused, measuring my breath until I was assured that my heartbeat was not fluctuating, and began my first climb up. Instead of going for a personal best as I would on a normal day of training, I paced myself, forcing myself to stop after only six climbs up the steep face.
By this time, it was late in the morning, around ten o' clock by my best estimates. The tournament would start at twelve, and so I walked back to the warehouse, picked an apple out of a crate and, since Axel hadn't the heart to do it, shook Medici out of his slumber.
Well… smacked more than shook. My relationship with the slothful, snarky layabout has never been the best. It frustrates me to no end how someone with such lack of drive or purpose can be so stupidly powerful.
"Was that entirely necessary?" Medici groaned, wiping away sleepy dirt with one hand while rubbing his struck head with the other. "We're not friends. I get it. But it's just common courtesy to let someone who's sleeping sleep, you know?"
"The tournament begins in an hour and a half," I said flatly. "I thought you might want to prepare."
"Ah... good call," he admitted, standing up and cracking his back. He made a swooping gesture, and a crate of watermelons flew towards him, stopping in the air and hovering an inch away from his head. "You may want to turn around, buddy," he smiled, licking his lips. "This isn't going to be pretty."
Disgusted, I turned and left the warehouse, meeting with Axel in the main house. Munson had been true to his word, and Axel was decked in a ridiculous light blue shirt with the store's name and logo on it, along with a large light blue flag with the same insignia. After about five minutes, Medici followed, watermelon juice staining his face. After a few more minutes of waiting, Axel finally stood up from his chair, stretched, and led the four of us to the tournament.
There was a sizeable crowd surrounding the elevated stage, and we had to push our way through several groups of people before reaching the area designated "Team Go Buy Food From Munson's Grocer Because It Will Make You A Better Person For Real." Amber had returned yesterday, and she stood there waiting alongside Benji, our neighbor's blonde-haired son who practically worshipped Axel. Axel greeted them, and laughs were shared amongst them… I am not sure over what. I was too focused on preparing. The amplified voice of Mayor Post soon echoed over the crowd, welcoming all comers to the First Annual Cliffkiln Pokémon Tournament, going over the basic rules (the first person to have 3 Pokémon KO'd would lose) and wishing everyone the best of luck.
The first few battles were not even worth mentioning. Shelligan and Qwill switched between each other for each newcomer. Shelligan ricocheted around the battlefield like a pinball, striking down each opposing Pokémon regardless of type and supposed strength. Qwill, the technical prodigy, won a particularly short match by executing a flawless Sky Attack on a poor, unsuspecting Hitmonchan.
I sat on the sidelines, observing the battles with amusement. If ever they were to falter, I would be called upon immediately. Medici, also held in reserve for the first six matches of the tournament, had fallen back asleep. I resisted the temptation to smack him awake again, if only because infighting may have caused Axel's disqualification: a shame I could never bear.
The seventh match was the quarterfinals, and a noticeably concerned Percy Garrison took the stage. I smirked to myself. For the last three battles, he had been watching Axel's battles with a sense of wonder and fear, and I could see him sweating even from the other side of the wide arena. I resettled, lifting myself a little to see properly. Garrison sent out a Pidgeot, a strong specimen that had dominated its previous matches and Axel, almost arbitrarily, sent out Shelligan to deal with it.
Shelligan, showing no signs of weariness, spun out into the arena again, wowing the crowd with a spontaneous back flip as he entered. The Pidgeot perched on one of the edges of the raised stadium, eyeing the grandstanding Squirtle warily. The referee blew his whistle, and a roar from the crowd signaled that the battle was underway.
Across the field, I saw Garrison wipe his brow and smile. I stiffened, eyes darting to the battlefield quickly. The Pidgeot let out a loud cry and, with speed at least twice of what it had shown thus far, flew into the air, rising so high that the clouds obscured it. Almost instantly it had swooped down again, knocking Shelligan across the field with incredible force. The Squirtle began to spin, preparing a counter-offensive, but the Pidgeot had already ascended again.
Axel cried out to Shelligan, warning the Squirtle of its foe's position, but he could not spin fast enough. Time after time, the Pidgeot swooped in, knocking the Pokémon from one side of the arena to the other. The sight of the Pokémon crunching against the sides of the arena was almost too much to stomach, but I held my ground. Shelligan would not go down so easily.
Recovering from yet another assault, the Squirtle dug the edges of its shell into the ground, spinning in a tight circle and kicking up a violent cloud of dirt: a makeshift Sandstorm, if you will. Garrison called to his Pidgeot, who responded by hovering over the cloud, waiting for the Squirtle to reemerge. I smiled as Shelligan shot out of the cloud on a beeline for the Pidgeot's head, but then realized something all too late: Keen Sight. The bird had known where the Squirtle had been the whole time.
I yelled out to Shelligan, but his trajectory was already set. The Pidgeot darted up quickly, and the spinning shell of the Squirtle passed under its claws almost comically. The Pidgeot clutched Shelligan mercilessly in its talons, darted up to its full height again and, to our horror, threw the Squirtle down to the ground at full force. Shelligan let out a weak cry, and fainted. Point to Garrison.
I was out on the field before Axel had even returned Shelligan. Such needless brutality was not to be tolerated, and I vowed there and then to dismantle Garrison's entire team myself. Axel nodded to the judge, who then declared the second match-up begun.
The Pidgeot immediately darted into the air again, and I closed my eyes. I focused, searching for the telltale beat of the creature's wings, but the whistling winds and rustling leaves around town made it hard to pinpoint. I heard a distinctive swoop, and dodged to the side… but a second too late. I grunted as the beast grazed my shoulder, sending me flying across the dirt. The bird pursued me, pecking at me with its large beak, and disconcerted as I was I could only place trust in my Agility, barely dodging each piercing blow. Finally, I secured a foothold, but no sooner had I swung at the Pidgeot's body then it rose into the air again, circling round in order to dive bomb me.
I wouldn't fall for it again. I knew the sound of its wings now. I focused, heard the cue, and sidestepped. I opened my eyes and lashed out, but it was quicker than I had expected, and my Leaf Blade barely grazed its tail. With a loud caw it rose into the air again, and my eyes shut one final time. I took a deep breath and held it, waiting patiently.
And then, it came to me. From the southwest, diving at approximately eighty miles per hour, coming within an inch… now!
I exhaled as I swung out, striking the bird directly in the middle of its beak. I dug my feet into the dirt, counteracting the momentum with which it had bombed me and then, with my other Blade, smashed the Pidgeot into the ground.
I leapt away, waiting for the bird to get back up to strike again. It twitched, squirmed… but did not rise. Whether out of exhaustion or terror, I did not care.
The judge declared me the victor, and I sat with my legs crossed, awaiting my next opponent. Garrison, mouth open with shock, immediately started to yell. What is that thing? That's not a Pokémon it's a monster! How can you let that thing compete? I trembled on the inside, but let it go. I did not intend to break any promises now, of all times.
Eventually, Garrison regained enough composure to continue. With a grunt, he threw a Pokéball into the arena. It opened to reveal an enormous metal-clad wyrm… a Steelix, in other words. I almost smiled. It was not exactly original to send a Steel-type Pokémon against one that only struck with Blades. The judge declared the next match begun, and the Steelix immediately dug underground. Apparently, Garrison had taught all of his Pokémon to employ ambush tactics.
I sighed, and closed my eyes again. Ground tremors were easier to detect than wing beats, so I immediately located the burrowing Pokémon. I waited for it to rise, then jumped to the side, allowing it to burst out of the earth directly besides me. Axel yelled something to me that I found incredibly amusing, and I decided to listen. Lashing out with a Vine Whip, I caught the Steel wyrm by the tale and latched on, hugging one of the crevices of its body. When the Pokémon dove back underground, I was right there with it.
It was almost comical, how the Steelix writhed in its attempts to extricate me. Lacking the flexibility of an Onix, it could not simply pick me off, and so it had to resort to bashing itself against boulders it found underground. I was quick enough, however, to avoid these attacks, and the beast only ended up hurting itself. In a last ditch attempt to get rid of me, it breached out of the ground, much like a whale breaches the water, and I took the chance. Leaping off, I landed at the point where it would attempt to burrow back underground, and swung both of my Leaf Blades at the same point of its oncoming head.
The tremor travelled up the Steelix's metal body, and for a second it simply hung there, suspended by the sudden counter shock. Then, all at once, it collapsed onto the ground in a heap. The judge declared me the victor, and I sat with my legs crossed, awaiting my next opponent.
Garrison renewed his yells of outrage, calling me a genetic aberration, a monstrosity, even going so far as to accuse me of being a Treecko-shaped machine. Such insults demanded that I challenge him to a duel, but I put my pride aside. The code of Bushido was not exactly strict when it came to Pokémon and, to be honest, I do not think I would take a life even if the code did call for it. Well, unless Master Axel told me to, that is.
The judge was not swayed by Garrison's words or his money, and eventually, begrudgingly, Garrison reached into his back pocket, pulling out a Pokéball that had clearly been intended only for the finals. It opened to reveal a monstrously huge black dog, fire pouring from its mouth. A Houndoom, technically speaking, but its size and disposition almost made it seem like a Cerberus.
I tensed. Judging from its muscular structure, the Pokémon would be able to out run me… that much was almost certain. An image of me, suddenly surrounded and consumed by an oncoming blaze of flame, formed in my mind, but I shook it off. Now was not the time to think of how Super Effective its attacks would be. I simply would not allow them to connect.
I didn't hear the judge announce the match had begun. I was only aware of the opponent in front of me, now behind me, running in circles and laying down an impenetrable barrier of flame around the arena. I leapt into the air, trying to clear the advancing wall of fire… and failed. My body seared, but I quickly dove into the dirt, rolling to put myself out. The Houndoom was upon me before I could stand up, clearly intending to Crunch the life out of me, but I caught its head with my hands, batting it away. It slid across the ground, but quickly was on its feet again, circling with great agility.
I suddenly felt myself struck from the behind by a Thunderbolt, and cursed myself for having let the beast… no. The Houndoom was still in front of me, running away. I snapped out of focus, only then becoming conscious of the screaming, both from the crowd and from Garrison himself. I turned slowly, still a tad Paralyzed from the sneak attack, to view my attacker.
No… not now. Not here, damn it!
Authors Note (If you don't care… then just stop reading)
First, in response to my reviewers, you guys are awesome. Your comments are so well thought out and helpful! (At least, they seem that way…) And don't worry, I haven't lost track of the plot… as you'd probably guessed by now.
Second, in response to anyone who's read through all five chapters thus far, thanks! I know from experience that even when you really like a story, you tend not to read it all if it's more than a few chapters long (I've done this so many times… hell, I only read two chapters of a three chapter story I thought was superb once.)
Third, I figured I might as well start giving a bit of behind-the-scenes info, just so you guys have that much more reason to read these authors notes. Right now, let's do some name origins, shall we?
Qwill and Shelligan are both what I named my actual Cyndaquil and Squirtle, respectively (so when Medici commented about how stupid a name Shelligan was, it was kind of an inside joke. That I only I got. But it still made me happy.)
Inigo the Treecko is named after Mandy Patinkin's character in The Princess Bride. He's also a swordsman.
One more? Really? All right, fine… I named Amber Amber because her hair is red. Yes I know that actual amber is yellow/gold. That's the joke.
Max English out.