ACT ONE - IMMOLATION
Chapter 4 - Trainer Square
Viridian City, despite all its grandeur, was fairly isolated in terms of location. With the Viridian Forest directly above it and Pallet Forest gating it from further south-east, Viridian City had three major entry points. The first was usually through Pallet Town, which paved the southern entrance into the city's gates. The second was by ship on the western coast, an option that was discouraged because of the acute Carvanha population in the waters. The third was usually through Viridian Forest, though the chances for that were fairly low, considering Pewter City's own geographical position and the great Viridian Forest. A fourth option existed, which was through sustained flight using a flying-type, or through a psychic-based teleportation service from another city.
Even so, it did not present a challenge to the city's potential as a prospective tourist spot. The Equestrian Grounds were a source of adult entertainment and crowded with prospective players who wanted to bet on the rapidash races, while others came in for the thrill of riding in general. The casinos were just as popular, as was the Viridian Institute of Sciences— a regular visit for most students engaged in research. However, no place gathered more attention than the Trainer Square— one of Kanto's largest private battlegrounds.
Not only did it provided a state-of-the-art battle arena but it also gave complimentary first aid allowing continuous battles against their peers without much risk of permanent injury. Here, a trainer could challenge others of his skill level, over a standard sum of money which varied based on the skill level of the trainers. That being said, Trainer Square wasn't run as a charity. Other than the viewing charges levied to the spectators, ten percent of a trainer's profits were to be paid to the institution as commission for its services. More than this, the faculty was essentially a betting ground for the affluent where ludicrous sums of money changed hands every day. While it had essentially started as watching a sport, pokémon betting had essentially become a favored pastime for the rich. Having a sponsored trainer reach the elite-level had essentially become a status symbol and therefore several young trainers flocked to Trainers Square hoping to attract a wealthy sponsor with their potential.
Even if you weren't looking for a patron, the Square was still attractive as the facility literally took away the problems associated with finding trainers in the wild and having to wrangle money from them. Furthermore, the institute offered a degree of protection through the separation of trainers by their trainer rankings which made it impossible for experienced trainers to take undue advantage from rookies.
Like any other teen from Pallet, visiting this place was like a dream come true for him. They'd hear tales from older trainers about people going in, and coming out filthy rich. There were also stories of rich twats arriving in fancy cars, only to sell those cars to pay off all the debt they owed after losing to those with actual skill. In fact, there were several trainers who chose to make the Trainer Square their permanent source of income, instead of trying their luck at the League Conferences. So, it was natural that Red's mind and feet came to a screeching halt when he reached the outer gates of his destination.
Is this… really the right place?
The entire edifice was surprisingly small compared to what Viridian City boasted. It was only slightly bigger than the average two-story restaurant at best. For one moment, Red wondered if he had arrived at the correct destination, but the words TRAINER SQUARE sprawled all over the frontage in large, capital neon signs, wiped away his doubts.
Mawile pulled at his jeans.
"What is it, Mawile?" He asked absently, staring at the building in front of him, still somewhat confused at the contrast between expectation and reality. He had expected it to be much grander, much livelier, not this undersized mall.
Mawile pulled again.
"All right, all right." He consented. "What's got you so worked up?"
Mawile pulled again.
Red sighed. "I'm going, I'm going. You're supposed to be a deceiver and a hunter. Shouldn't you have a little more patience?" Before Mawile could show him exactly what she thought about his statement, he walked up ahead, causing Mawile to quickly follow behind.
"Look at this place, Mawile," Red muttered, more to himself than to others. "Well, assuming this the correct place, this is what has made the lives of so many trainers out there. The better the trainer you are, the more your wins, and the better your 'street-cred'." He carefully ignored the traitorous part of his mind that whispered about how those stories might well have been fake to begin with.
Mawile tilted her head at the last part, confusion filling her face.
"Um, you become more popular."
The expression deepened. Popular wasn't a word found in the language of pokémon. For one, the wild world had predators and prey. The idea of something being popular and yet, not prey, seemed alien to the deceiver pokémon. Why would she be interested in someone, if she couldn't eat it?
"Ugh, now how do I—? Put it this way, the more popular you are, the more money you can make, and that means more poképuffs."
Mawile blinked. Okay, that made sense. Seriously, what was it with humans and making things so overly-complicated? Couldn't he just say that winning more battles meant more poképuffs? It would have been so simpler.
She shook her head in slight exasperation. Being a human-tamer was difficult. They didn't understand pokémon, were somewhat dull to begin with, and to add to that, they had this tendency to overcomplicate even the simplest of things. Whoever said being a trained pokémon was easy business again?
"But I only have you to battle for me. So, do you feel like you are ready to go defeat the ones in there?"
Mawile shrugged. So far, she had stood her ground against most pokémon out there. Considering that she was still in one piece, it probably meant her chances were pretty high. Besides, it was all in the name of poképuffs. Maybe Red would even get his chance at being popular.
Past the outer gates, there were three windows to fetch tickets to go in, all for a minimal price of twenty pokédollars. With a majority of his money spent on TMs, and rations, Red had little more than three thousand to carry on. This meant that he'd have to either battle a trainer (and win) to get more money or use his emergency credit, something that would obviously not be a happy thought. He knew for a fact that Gary started out with roughly seventy thousand in his account, not to mention the near-limitless credit line he had for backing.
The bottom line was that he'd need to win his first few matches, to actually walk out a winner. Both in name and fortune.
He stood in front of the second window, and passed in a hundred dollar note. "One ticket, please."
"Trainer ID?" The man on the other side looked in his late forties, and wore a cowboy hat, tilted to the left, doing very little to hide his bald head.
"AVSPN810H" Red answered, "Red Ketchum from Pallet Town."
"So, it seems," the man replied in a gruff tone. "Newly registered rookie. No badges. Even babies want to be taken seriously these days." He guffawed.
Red frowned, but did not react any further. With a stiff nod, he accepted the electronically printed ticket that the man passed back to him.
"Arena 3. You'll probably find someone of your size over there. "He paused momentarily, "If you lose everything, don't make a scene. We want the tourists to think good of us."
Red glanced down at Mawile again. "Let's go."
Mawile cooed in return and quickly fell in steps with him.
The first thing Red witnessed on walking into the Trainer Square were three enormous, metallic squares, giving him the feeling like he was standing in some airship hangar. Each square was at least a hundred feet in height, and had a single squarish door at the base, giving out the impression of being an elevator. They were further adorned with a large neon sign, with ARENA engraved on it, along with a number. Remembering that he was supposed to go to the third one, Red and Mawile walked up to the appropriate square and walked in. The door closed with a soft ding, but instead of the familiar pull of gravity that came with going up on an elevator, he felt nothing. A few moments later, the door reopened, leading to….
This is… impossible.
He was almost in a different world. In front of him was what seemed like endless terrain, infused with technology and filled with people. There were large cubicles on either side of the main roadway, each having a battle arena of over a hundred square yards, and two podiums on opposite ends for the trainers to stand on. Each battleground was enveloped by some form of nigh transparent, psychic bounded fields, keeping the battles held within private, while still allowing the public to witness them. The sheer immensity of the entire structure made no sense, considering the initial size of the metallic squares, and the building in the first place unless…
Is this… Am I in folded space?
Folded space technology could be regarded as the new cornerstone of the pokémon world. Ever since its humble beginnings some eighty years ago, the concept of folded space had changed the world into a less dangerous and more civilized place, especially when compared to the situation before it. In fact, before the advent of the pokéball, the world was far more barbaric, and the occupation of a pokémon trainer was something that would only suit an adrenaline junkie. In fact, it wouldn't be wrong to say that a hundred years back, pokémon matches were nothing short of deathmatches. Trainers were strong humans, who showered coins of gold and silver to get their pokémon-their gladiators well fed, well trained, and then forced into mortal combat. It was good business back then, and it fetched trainers a great deal of cash as well. This was well reflected within modern culture, only far more refined.
Today's trainers took folded space technology for granted. A tiny pokéball, barely fifty grams in weight, could hold enough space to host a seven-foot-tall machamp with ease. For creatures greater than ten feet in length, a trainer needed to purchase a greatball, which was three times as expensive as a regular pokéball and could host pokémon up to twenty-five feet in height. The modern generation did not need to treat their pokémon like the dangerous creatures that they were. They did not need to keep the monsters chained and bound. They did not need to employ crude collars or employ painful shocks to ensure that the brutes followed their every command. Today's trainers trained and loved their team like pets, and in some cases, their babies. Poképhilia was on a growing rise.
Folded space technology had changed everything, and had become an irreversible part of the pokémon world. A trainer's backpack could hold a volume comparable to a small water tank, divided into several compartments that enabled him to stay out in the wild for months. Weight Reduction Technology prevented these backpacks from weighing more than a couple hundred grams at most. It was so common, that this technology was often taken for granted. But constructing an entire battle facility within folded space? That was enough to unsettle most people, including Red.
"An area so huge, inside folded space?" Red muttered to himself.
"It boggles the mind, doesn't it? But that is the grandeur of Trainer Square." A male voice interrupted his musings. Turning to his left, Red was met with a tall, lanky guy, easily six-feet tall, around seventeen years old by the looks of it, with trimmed, chestnut hair.
The teen continued. "It's always like that for the first-timers." He chuckled.
"It is my first time," Red admitted. "They told me to go to ARENA 3."
"A Rookie then." The teen replied. "I'm Cory, by the way. Nice to meetcha! How many badges do ya have?"
"Red." He replied, "I don't have any yet."
"A squirt." Cory laughed. "Heh, that's the word for badge-less people around here. I'm sure I saw a couple more around here somewhere. So kid, that cutie's yours, I presume?"
Mawile growled angrily, apparently feeling like she was being looked down at. Unfortunately, her growl came out as an adorable mewl.
"Ah, a real charmer," Cory laughed. "So, Red was it? Lookin' for a battle? The standard bet is five hundred bucks. Wanna try your luck?"
Red blinked twice. "Why do you care?"
That took Cory aback, who answered with a bark. "I work for the Square, squirt. It's my job to ensure that we have more battles. The more money the Square gets, the more commission for me. That reminds me, what's your ID?"
Without hesitation, Red filled him with the details. Cory entered them in what seemed like a thin card-like device silently. "Red Ketchum, Rookie. All right, you're set. Here's your Battle Card. Don't lose it." He handed over the card to him.
"Battle Card?" Red questioned, staring at the thin plate-like device in his hand. He wanted to ask what it did but felt that Cory would answer it anyway.
"Yup. It tracks every match you've had at the Trainer Square. You've got no badges so we don't know what skill level you're at. Not that some of those one or two badgers are any better, ay?"
Red shrugged. He didn't want to comment, but his recent experience with Ritchie who claimed to have 3 badges, didn't give him the highest opinion of the badge system.
"You also get Battle Points."
"Huh?"
"Battle Points," Corry continued, with the air of someone who had explained this several times, "are awarded by the Trainer Square on victories. The number awarded depends on the profile of the match. Think of them as an incentive to battle in Trainer Square. You can redeem them for exciting prizes like TMs and even pokémon, once you've collected enough!"
"You sound like a creepy old guy trying to trick children with candy." Red deadpanned, "So Trainer Square does this out of the goodness of their hearts?"
"As if," Corry gave a little bark of laughter. "Lem'me tell you a secret, squirt. Nothing in life is ever free. We get lots of bets on high profile matches. Makes us tons of cash. Trainer Points are a way of encouragement, so to say. Win continuous streaks and give us exciting battles. We'll treat ya well enough."
Red stared at him contemplatively. It did seem like a win-win situation. After all, trainers benefited massively from the Square as well.
"So, how many pokémon do you have?"
"Just one." Red tilted his head towards Mawile. Technically, he had Shellder in his team, but it didn't count for obvious reasons.
"That cute little thing? You sure you wanna force it through the grinder? Things can get bitter over here." The boy advised.
Mawile growled again, her large jaw biting into the air with a snap. Just what did this fellow think she was?
"Feisty little thing, aren't ya?" Cory chuckled. "Well, enough dallying around. Let's see what you make of Neesha over there."
Red looked in the direction Cory's hands were pointing. It was the fourth cubicle on the left. Even from a distance, he could see the brown-hair curled into twin-tails, fighting against another brown-haired boy, whose face was hidden from him.
"Neesha?"
"She's another rookie like you. Cute little lass, though she's as stubborn as a tauros, I tell you. Lost all her money the first day, and then kept coming back for more. Says she's gonna keep coming until she's won thrice her money back."
"How much has she won yet?" Red asked, completely out of plain curiosity.
"Still scratching three's surface. She lost all seven thousand the first day. It was horrible ya know? But that's Neesha for you."
Interesting. "Five hundred is the standard, right?"
"Yep. And ten percent of your winnings— yours or hers, go to the Square. So not to worry, win or lose, my winning personality and aid is free." He gave a cheeky smile, causing Red to chuckle.
"Let's get started."
"Let me get this straight. You are a rookie. You got yourself registered for the Indigo Circuit yesterday. You have a single pokémon." Neesha noted. "Are you sure you're in the right place?"
Red arched an eyebrow.
"Hello Pot, this is Kettle. Did you know that I'm black?" Cory interjected from the side-lines, smirking as he casually leaned against the wall.
"I'm not being hypocritical, here." Neesha clarified, rolling her eyes. "I was an idiot when I first came in, but even then, I had two pokémon with me. And you know that I'm not going to go get my badges until I win my money back."
"Three times over." Cory supplied.
"Yes."
"One on one, will that do?" Red asked. "I only have Mawile with me now. Five hundred, that's the bet, right?"
Neesha blinked. "You wanna lose your money that badly?"
"Pot, Kettle." Cory sang.
"Let's just start." Red offered.
"Whatever. Raticate, end this quickly." Neesha sighed, releasing the pokéball in her hands. Red light burst out of the pokéball, releasing the pokémon within. It was not exactly clear how pokéballs captured pokémon within them and released them back without any form of physiological changes to their form. There was a rather nefarious rumor about pokéballs using alien technology to forcefully convert pokémon into mysterious, red-colored poké-energy, and sucked them into the device, before keeping them in some form of suspended animation. Another rumor talked about how pokéballs had some form of restraining abilities, that allowed a trainer to tame wild pokémon captured by these spheres. Whatever the real technology might have been, it was viciously guarded by Silph Co. and Devon Corp. After all, this was the very same technology that allowed them to become corporate giants, crushing all the competition in the process.
The pokémon leaped out of the pokéball, before hitting the ground with its forelimbs, allowing its thin tail to sweep across the ground sweeping dust into the air around it. It then sniffed the air around it, its large frontal-fangs gnawing into each other, as the creature regarded Red and his partner.
"Mawile, you're up," Red muttered softly. "Show 'em what you've got."
Mawile deliberately ignored the other girl's presence, only staring at the raticate in front of her, as she stepped into the arena, her large jaw deceptively motionless and withdrawn. If Red were anybody else, he'd have thought the large, black protrusion to be some kind of body ornament at best.
"Quick Attack and then use Bite," Neesha ordered.
Raticate let out a war cry of sorts, before sniffing the air a second time, as it raised its hindlimbs slightly, before shooting towards Mawile, its fangs bared. Mawile, who had obviously expected it to launch a direct, frontal attack, tensed slightly and pushed her jaw backward, poised and ready to sweep at a moment's notice.
It ranged within ten inches of Mawile before it leaped into the air, its fangs poised to strike.
Mawile smirked, and flipped its jaw to the front, raising a barrier of impregnable steel. Raticate slammed its fangs against the jaw, bone against steel, and was repulsed back with a powerful reactionary force. With its natural agility, it easily weaved its way mid-air to fall in line with the momentum, allowing it to land deftly with little to no damage.
"A steel jaw," Neesha observed. "Good reaction time. But can it handle it if Raticate ups his speed?" She smirked. "Quick Attack, then use Hyper Fang."
Hyper Fang? Red wondered, as his tranquil expression shattered. He was never good at dealing with sudden surprises. He preferred having information before the fight, and analyze an opponent first before he battled him, compared to rushing blindly to face the opponent and winging it mid-battle. It was one of the reasons why he had spent an inordinate amount of time studying the standard moves used by most pokémon out there. Then again, considering the vast array of moves, having to face an unknown should almost be a run-of-the-mill event.
"Mawile, be wary of it."
"Wile!" The deceiver pokémon took a poised stance, ready to wave its jaw.
Raticate let out another cry, before leaping towards the fairy. The moment its feet hit the ground, a brownish shade enveloped its limbs, increasing the length of its stride significantly. Before Mawile could process the order, the raticate was in front of it, biting into Mawile's fur from the left. It was only her keen instincts that made her bring the jaw down, preventing the rodent from gouging into her with a single strike.
The steel jaw slammed against the raticate's fang, causing the mouse to leap away, and ready a second strike.
"First blood to me," Neesha smirked.
Red gritted his teeth. Developing strategies mid-battle was never his cup of tea. This was Gary's domain. He had always been the one to study everything beforehand, and use the knowledge to create a strategy that would work without fail. The lack of information about 'Hyper Fang' put the situation into uncharted territory.
Red did not know what to do. For someone like him, information was everything. To deal with a situation in the absence of information was not something he was acquainted with.
Focus. He told himself. Focus on what you know. Raticate's plus point is his speed. Need to take it away from him. What can you do?
"Mawile," He called out. " Raticate is too fast. Slow it down. Icy Wind."
"Wile!" The fairy accepted his logic, closing her eyes. In less than a second, she took control over the element, before she let go. A gale of biting, cold winds weaved around her, before fiercely blowing all over the arena. Even Red had to pull his shirt tighter to keep himself from shivering.
Raticate though was a completely different picture. Its dirty brown fur, was now laden with white streaks of snow, its whiskers heavy and sticking to its face, and its feet now shivering against the biting cold that had just inundated him. Even the floor was frosted over, with flakes of snow here and there.
"That's not gonna stop Raticate." Neesha challenged. "Leap into the air, and use Hyper Fang."
"Aerial countermeasures, Mawile," Red instructed.
Mawile nodded in acknowledgment, as she spun her steel jaw into the air, and in less than a second, liberated out a wave of electricity into the atmosphere. The power behind it was barely enough to cause any lasting, direct damage in a standard fight, and certainly not when cast by Mawile, who wasn't tuned to electricity in the first place.
Fortunately, Thunder Wave was not meant to cause direct damage. Instead, it was an area-of-effect technique, employing a succession of weak electric waves into the terrain, which in this case, happened to be air. Had Raticate been grounded, it would have been able to shake it off, with the earth absorbing the majority of the current. In the air, however, it was a sitting duck, equally vulnerable to electricity as any flying pokémon was.
The Thunder Wave traversed through its body, inducing spasms in its muscles and nerves. One moment, it was up there, its trajectory positioned to take maximum advantage of its momentum. Now, it was spasming in the air, falling down to the ground head first.
Directly at Mawile.
This is probably gonna hurt.
The jaw pushed back slightly, before it came swinging in a half-circle, and slammed into Raticate's sides, sending it towards the periphery of the arena, bruising and tumbling through the ground.
Raticate did not move after that, its half-shut eyes indicative of its complete incapacitation.
"Raticate is unable to battle." Cory declared with a strange grin on his lips. "Mawile is the winner."
"I don't believe this. I've fought against stronger opponents. How did I lose to this—?" Neesha began.
"Stop right there." Red interrupted comically. "If you are really going to go on with the 'how did I lose to this nobody who started a week ago?', please don't."
Neesha blinked, settling on a blank stare at him. Cory copied her expression.
"Sorry. It's a 'been there, done that' scenario for me."
More staring.
"Uhm, don't you have any more battles for me?" Red asked Cory pleadingly.
"Huh?" Cory blinked again. "I mean yeah, I do. Your battles have been lodged in the books. You can collect your winnings when you leave today."
"Wait a minute," Neesha butted in. "I may have lost this battle, but I will win the war. My next pokémon will surely defeat you."
Mawile sighed.
An hour and three battles later, Red was completely exhausted. The Trainer Square provided its occupants with Heal Spray, an herbal medicine that numbed pain, reduced fatigue, and increased regeneration when applied to pokémon. After Raticate's defeat, he had applied some on Mawile to shake off the lasting effects of the battle. Of course, she wasn't in perfect condition, but she was no longer exhausted. Mawile had fought Neesha's wartortle after that, totally intoxicated in her glory over her previous victory.
It had been a bad idea, and she ended up being thrashed by the wartortle.
That had been the start. Ignoring her injuries and her slowly decreasing stamina, Mawile had decisively gone ahead with succeeding battles, before Red could even decide if he wanted to fight in the first place. Her succeeding opponent had been an unfortunate furret, and the entire room had been privy to the disposition of a gravely-irritated mawile. Next, a vicious arbok had nearly gotten her crushed, but that had ended in a veritable disaster, where Mawile had nearly bitten its tail off.
However, in all of that blood and gore, Red had discovered an important fact: The Trainer Square loved violence. The more bloodshed, the more the videos of these battles sold, and the more money they made. Also, depending upon a trainer's winning streak, he or she might be invited to special challenges held on weekends. Winners of such challenges were often rewarded with high amounts of battle points, which could be used to redeem fairly rare pokémon. These weekend prizes were mostly funded by the betting crowd, and often, a high-performing trainer would find himself someone intending to sponsor his growth.
After every battle, Mawile would demand to be sprayed with the herbal product, and keep on fighting with a prejudice Red hadn't witnessed before. He could sense that she was literally running on fumes, but Mawile would just not stop.
"Mawile, that is enough. We can just call it a day today. You need to rest before you can continue any further battles."
Mawile shook her head, patiently waiting for the Heal Spray.
What has gotten into her? Why's she being all stubborn like this?
Mawile, Red was learning, was quite different from the other pokémon he had interacted with at the ranch. For one, Mawile guarded her independence ferociously. Instead of waiting for his commands, Mawile would actually listen to his logic and then weigh them against her own choices. If she felt that he had a better answer, she had no qualms about following Red's advice— something that demonstrated her lack of personal arrogance in such matters. On the other hand, should Red's idea fall short of her own approach, she had no qualms about ignoring him either. Add that to her extreme stubbornness, and you had a dangerous mixture.
Whether the mixture was a boon or a hindrance was still up for debate.
That being said, Red was someone who knew his own limitations. Creating strategies on spot was Gary's thing, not his own. He was more along the lines of 'observe, analyze and then reverse engineer it from scratch' kind of guy. After the impromptu battle with Ritchie, Red had come up with several strategies over countering the effect of terrain and getting past Mawile's own lack of speed. But to do so during a battle? Not a chance.
All in all, it was a pretty disastrous combination. He was not used to thinking out of the box mid-battle, and Mawile waited for him to issue orders, out of some kind of affection if nothing else. Which resulted in her attacks being delayed every single time. Against the opponents he had faced so far, it might not have meant a lot. But against a skilled opponent, Mawile was as good as a sitting duck.
The battle against the wartortle had vividly pointed that out.
I need to figure out a way to come up with strategies against everything that Mawile can possibly face. The effect of terrain, her own vulnerabilities, her strengths and creating better move pools. All of that. It will require an extensive study, but it could work. If I can figure out all the combinations of the effect of terrain, coupled with how it affected her vulnerabilities then…
Pause.
And now I'm acting like an idiot. There is no way I can possibly think of every single combination out there like that. Even if I do manage that, which will likely take years of extensive research, it would still fall short when facing an original move or tactic from an elite-trainer. No, I need to figure out some other way.
He glanced at Mawile again. The little fairy was doing her best to keep fighting as if to prove her strength to everyone out there. Mawile hated it when people looked down at her, and the defeat against the wartortle had certainly not scored any points in that category.
What if Mawile is the one that takes all the decisions during battle? That would significantly cut down the time required to develop this strategy. Trainers depend upon their opponents to say their commands out loud. With Mawile choosing her own moves, it would not only solve our problems but would also serve to confuse others and make her unpredictable.
The worst thing a trainer can be in a battle is predictable. It was one of Lance's most iconic quotes. Red even had a T-shirt with that printed on it. And what could be more unpredictable than the trainer staying all silent and the pokémon battling all by themselves?
He tried very hard to suppress the maniacal grin trying to tear his face. The idea was good, but the execution would be hellishly difficult. For Mawile to take care of everything on the battlefield, she would need to be prepared for everything. Red had no idea how he would make that happen, but by God, he loved the idea.
"Mawile, let's call it a day. I've got something in mind for you, and you're gonna love it."
Mawile shook her head. She still had to avenge her defeat at the hands of that turtle. It was bad enough that her Double Team wasn't better than Shellder's. Another water-type showing her up was simply more than she could stand.
"Mawile, I know you want to show everyone just how strong you are, but you cannot do that if you are already spent and exhausted. I have something in mind, something really good that is only going to help you. I promise."
Mawile sighed. She knew a losing argument when she saw one. Besides, alongside her stamina, the adrenaline rush was slowly leaving her. The herbal medicine was good, but even that could only keep up so far. Perhaps it was for the better that she would get herself a bit of rest. A long, comfortable sleep did feel rather inviting to her right now.
"Mawile…" Red caressed her left cheek softly.
"Maw…" she moaned, the rush leaving her, as her body finally gave way. She cuddled into Red, her head rubbing him gently before she slowly fell asleep.
Somewhere near the west coast of Pallet Town
"I'm… not exactly sure about all of this," Ritchie muttered, starting at the canister in his hand. He had met with a certain man, as recommended by Dr. Pym, the one man on earth who had chosen to believe in his innocence and not blindly follow the League's orders and relinquish him off to the nearest Police Station. As instructed, he had taken the local transport to arrive at the West Coast, to this desolate building named 'The Climbers'. The name did sound somewhat odd, but who was he to judge?
That was where he had met this man, who went by the name Mickey. Clearly a pseudonym, but Ritchie wasn't going to question him on it. He had more important things to think about at the moment. Like his suspended Trainer License, and his team's deteriorating condition.
"Mickey is probably the one person who can provide you a Thunderstone at the moment. You need to understand though, that those things don't come cheap."
"But I don't have that much money at hand. I could get a loan from the bank for such a transaction but— "
"Don't be stupid. The moment you do that, they'd instantly pinpoint your location to the local police. Might as well just visit them directly."
"But then…"
"Talk to Mickey. Explain your situation. He might be able to come to a solution. If not… I suppose you'll have to try fighting against the word of The Samuel Oak."
Needless to say, there had been no second thoughts about the matter. He might have been from Frodomar City, but Samuel Oak was practically legendary in this world. For such a man to file a complaint against him for that Red… Ritchie bristled at that. Then again, he should have seen that coming. How else would that Red have such an exotic and bloodthirsty monster as a starter? Clearly it was a case of blatant favoritism from that man.
Which led to the present situation.
"I get your situation, kid." The man Mickey, a bald-headed man in his early thirties, replied in a somewhat gruff tone. "But a Thunderstone's no joke. Say what? Seventeen and a half, and you've got a deal, and that's because Pym's an old friend of mine."
"But I don't have that kind of money at hand. I had around seven thousand at best when I came to Pallet, and more than half of that was spent on my pokémon's treatment. I can give you all my documents as proof. I'll sign in a legal contract to pay you back in a few months, with interest. Just let me have the Thunderstone now, and save my pikachu. I'll go to the police and clear everything up. Hell, I'll go and beg to that monster and his trainer for forgiveness and then clean my license. I've got a strong team; I can fight battles all day long. I'd pay you back in 2 months. Please, please I beg you, help me out. "
" Do you even hear yourself speak? Ya think I got where I am listening to every little runt's piddly ass problems" Mickey mocked.
"..."
Mickey let out a laugh." I wasn't born yesterday, kid. You got your license suspended. Even if you think you can receive a get-out-of-jail-free card by appealing to Oak and his little fella, it still means three months of abstinence from being a trainer, since your License will take time to be renewed. Then, you have the crime of attacking a rookie, not just his pokémon. Think of the black spot that got you. Two months, eh? I probably won't see a single pokédollar 'fore the year's up."
"But I…"
"Nah, kid. I don't make loosin' deals. If you got something worth trading for we can talk. Otherwise, get lost."
"But what else can I give you?" Ritchie asked desperately, clenching his pokéballs in his fist. "I don't have money. My license is suspended, and not even my— not even my pokémon are worth anything, in their current condition." He cursed himself as soon those words left his lips, knowing that selling his team— his friends— wasn't something he'd ever consider.
But he was out of time. He was barely able to afford the constant life support required to keep his pikachu alive. Desperation was his new anthem.
"You tell me, what can I possibly give you in return?" He asked with a sense of finality.
Mickey gave a sharp gaze at him. "Tell me, kid, just why is that pikachu so fuckin' important to you? Let it die. Go get yourself another one. Much cheaper than a thunderstone." He paused. "Oops, sorry. Ya don't have a trainer's license. Forgot 'bout that."
Ritchie's fingers drew blood, as his nails dug deeply into his own flesh.
"Because they are my team. Because I want to be the greatest pokémon trainer ever! I want to… I don't trade my team. I…"
"Excuses!" The man looked like he had just tasted a bad egg. "Tell you what kid, you seem like someone with some backbone. I've always thought that the League were pussies anyway. I think I know a man who'd actually hire people like you, Trainer License or not. Got his own independent organization and everything, and gets his workers all kinds of powerful pokémon. Team Rocket, heard of them?"
Ritchie took a step back in caution. Of course, he had heard of them. The official take on them was that they were a band of thugs, and the police were directed to arrest them on sight.
"They're criminals."
"So are you."
Ritchie felt himself take a step back at the man's ruthlessly honest reply. It hadn't dawned on him just how he appeared in the eyes of the law, but the casual statement made the severity of the situation crashing down on him hard. It was true. He was now a criminal. Even if he was able to get a pardon, the black mark on his license would remain forever.
"But I'm not… I'm not a…"
Mickey leveled him a cold stare. "You are not what? I met with ya, cause ole Pym recommended you. This doesn't mean ya get to waste my time. Time is money, squirt. Either get me the money or fuck off."
"I didn't mean that. You get what…"
"I don't have time for snobs like you. I gave ya a way out. Take it or find a better way yourself. My contact, the name's Butch. People mistake that for Bitch. You don't wanna do that." He let out a laugh. "I get you in, and Butch pays me money for the thunderstone. Whaddaya say?"
"You mean… you'll sell me?"
"Do I look like the one with the fetish?" The man barked. "Team Rocket's no band of thugs. They've bigger things happening there. Things your piss-poor League has no business poking their noses in. I get you in, and he gives me two months of your salary— after ya pass from the trainee to the grunt stage, that is. After that, your free to make your own money. You'll never hear from me again."
"They pay nine thousand a month?" Ritchie asked, gobsmacked.
"Of course, they do. Whaddaya think? The grunts are morons just like those… never mind. Decide now, kid. Or get lost. "
Ritchie paused at that. He was a registered trainer, but now that life was seemingly at an end. Team Rocket provided a handsome salary, even to its grunts. If he had no future with the League, could he build a new one within Team Rocket? The moral side of his mind told out that he'd be joining an illegal organization, while the pragmatic side wisely pointed out that he was already on the run from the law. What did it matter anymore if he walked one step or a hundred? He had crossed the line anyway.
He thought of his pikachu, suffering in the hospital room. Without a Thunderstone to repair its electric pouches and tail, it probably wouldn't live much longer. He remembered his Taillow, its beak fractured. He remembered Princess, his dear Zippo, and Happy. They deserved better. All of them deserved to live and grow strong.
"I've got a counteroffer."
Mickey glared at him. "Look brat, I'm in no mood to banter. Just decide or get the fuck outta—"
"I'll sign up with Team Rocket, but not just for the Thunderstone. I want you to get me fifty thousand pokédollars, and for that, you can have an entire years' salary I get there. You're making at least a hundred percent on that deal."
Mickey arched an eyebrow, but Ritchie's determined stance did not waver.
C'mon, agree. I can start over with fifty grand. My entire team will be healed with that much, with more to spare. Agree, damn it.
"If ya think ya can just take the money and run, you'll be in for a surprise. Butch's a bitch over money. He'd catch you, and make you squeal. And I know a squealer when I see one." He gave a nasty grin. "He'd kill your fuckin' pikachu right in front of your eyes, and drench you in its blood."
Ritchie visibly shuddered at that. "I'm not going to take your money and run. It's for my team's treatment. You don't trust me. Fine. But you trust Dr. Pym, right? Give it to him. I want to use it to heal my team. If anything's left, I'll… I'll use it on TMs. I'll not take a single penny for myself. I swear. Now do we have a deal or not?"
"You realize what ya say, right?" Mickey spoke in a no-nonsense tone. "Whether you live or die, no matter what shit falls on your head, you keep working for Butch for one year. That's twelve whole months. And a permanent criminal record. There ain't no goin' back to the league after Team Rocket. A word of advice kid. Throw away those pokémon of yours, and start afresh. This ain't worth it."
"I thought you didn't have time for meaningless banter." Ritchie threw Mickey's own words back at him. "Take it or leave it. Fifty grand, for a year's salary, and I'm no slacker."
Mickey stared at the teen for several seconds before letting out a bark of laughter. "I like ya kid." He extended his hand out. "We've got a deal."
Ritchie stared at the man 's hand for a moment, an uncomfortable feeling spreading out through him. He could feel it, a turning point of sorts.
A deal with a devil.
Ritchie tried to hide the tremor in his palm as he grasped the outstretched hand. He was somewhat proud that he managed to hide the shakiness in his voice as he replied.
"We have a deal."
Back in Viridian City
After leaving the Trainer Square for the day, Red trudged his way back to the Pokémon Center. Submitting Mawile's pokéball to the helpful Nurse, he walked to his room in silence, his mind inundated by a hundred different thoughts. He had finally become a trainer, and his current predicament would either make or break him in the future, especially considering that what he wanted to do was purely theoretical so far, and utterly unconventional. Not even the pokémon that participated in Conferences demonstrated what he was expecting Mawile to perform.
He wasn't arrogant enough to bet everything on himself. That meant that he needed help. And there was only one person he could trust in this situation.
Ring.
Ring.
Ring— "Oh hello, Red. What a surprise. You finally worked up the courage to call, hmm?"
Red opened his mouth in confusion at the odd comment, before meeting the man's eyes. For a moment, he felt something akin to anger in those gray eyes, before the emotion was extinguished and replaced with pity. Realizing that his lips had shut again, he opened them the second time, ready to declare his confusion at the oddity of the situation.
Don't. It's a bad idea. Forget it.
"Hey, old man. Didn't expect you to be so…"
"To the point?" Oak supplied.
"I was going to say frisky," Red responded. "You are usually more laid back in the afternoon, what with your siesta and everything."
"Hm. I'd have, normally." The man replied with fake affability, "but then an idiot had to run into a criminal incident, and then forgot to tell me about it. Unfortunately, other people are not so forgetful as this idiot, which is why I had to spend an entire evening with a League official." His expressions turned sour at that, "And that is probably why I had to choose to work now, instead of having that siesta you mentioned."
Shit. How did he—?— never mind. "Wonder who that idiot is?" Red supplied, knowing very well that he was flirting with disaster. Inwardly, he couldn't help but wonder how the older man had come to know about it. Had Ritchie made a complaint against him or something?
Oak stared at him.
Red kept up his vacant expression.
…
...
Oak sighed, his tone returning to his usual exasperated state when dealing with Red. "Could you have a lousier poker face?"
"What are you talking about?" The teen questioned, his expression the epitome of confusion.
"Never mind." Oak waved it away. "Tell me, Red Ketchum, what prompted you to accept a battle with another trainer without being registered in the first place? Especially knowing that should Mawile be hurt, you'd be all by yourself till you reached Viridian city?"
"It's kind of a long story. Wait a minute, how did you find out about it?"
"That's what you are worried about?" Oak asked in disbelief.
"Yeah," Red went on, forcing courage into his words. "I was there, Ritchie was there, and we were in a forest. How did you find out? Did you have someone follow me? Old man, I thought we were clear about me being ready to go on a journey by myself, without others looking out for me."
"Yes, and now I am reconsidering my judgment." Oak finally responded. "And stop trying to change the subject, that's not going to work this time."
Damn. Red mentally cursed. "But still, how did you find out?"
Oak sighed. He knew how stubborn Red could be. "From Kaz. I had him look out for you after you left."
"So he was there? And he did nothing?"
"Seriously? You were angry a moment ago that you were being followed, and now you are angry because he didn't show up and help you? He wasn't supposed to be there in the first place." Oak retorted incredulously.
"Yeah, but if he was there, might as well help us out." Red insisted
"So you do accept that it was a dangerous situation and you needed help."
"Well, I never expected him to go all crazy and start attacking us like that. I mean, we were supposed to have a match, and then win or lose, we would never see each other again. Maybe we'd meet up a few years later and talk about old battles."
Oak blinked.
"...That's what happens in stories." Red offered.
The old professor resisted the sudden urge to facepalm. "Red, you were in actual danger there. And you should know, Kaz did help you. Without his aid, Mawile wouldn't have been able to keep you safe. He stopped the other pikachu from zapping you."
Oh right. He remembered. The pikachu had tried to zap him, but there had been no attack. He had been too terrified back then to consider the abnormality. Had that been Kaz?
"So… Kaz saved me?"
"Yes, and he'd like a little thanks the next time you meet him."
"Wait, you mean he's gonna be following me around? How am I going to have MY trainer journey if Kaz keeps following me around like that?"
"No, he is not. He wanted to ensure that you reached Viridian City safely. So far, you have managed to… how did Kaz put it? Oh yeah, 'manage to keep your head on your shoulders', so I am willing to accept that you can be on your own without guidance. For now."
"Not forever?"
Oak did not deign to give him a response.
"You mean he's going to follow me around again? Seriously old man, you don't know Kaz. He'll make my life a living hell."
"Then I will know that you deserve it. Your training journey will probably carve a bloody path if the Pallet Forest is of any indication."
"Come now, you are overreacting. That's all."
"We will see about that later. For now, you are allowed to travel freely by yourself, but should you pull another dangerous stunt again…"
"I promise, I promise," Red begged.
Oak sighed. "Now why don't you tell me what happened with this Ritchie Kent."
"Um, Ritchie was being an ass, and.. Wait. Wait, that wasn't the first reason. He was the one who asked for an unofficial battle, and Mawile wanted to show that Charmander Zippo— seriously, who names a Charmander after a lighter? And did I mention that Ritchie was being a complete ass?"
"You did." Oak rolled his eyes.
Red sighed, his shoulders drooping. "I know, I screwed up. I shouldn't have agreed to it in the first place, but one thing led to another, and Mawile and Charmander had a big fight, and Mawile… well, she can be a bit enthusiastic, you know." He finished lamely, remembering the spectacular yet, brutal tactics that Mawile had utilized during that battle. A part of him couldn't wait before Mawile could replicate the technique on a larger pokémon like a charizard and—
Wait. On second thought, it better be something other than a charizard. Charizard were awesome. Ritchie was the lacking one.
"Enthusiastic," Oak repeated.
"She… kinda almost bit its tail off. Twice."
Oak rubbed his nose, feeling a headache coming. "And here I was thinking that she'd get over it."
"What do you mean, old man?"
Oak sighed. If Red was going to hold custody of Mawile for the foreseeable future, he did have the right to know. "Listen, Red. There's something you should know about. Mawile… well, she is quite strong, stronger actually, even compared to most Mawile's her age. And unlike most starters, Mawile isn't actually a baby, she's almost five years old."
"That's… long?" Red asked, not knowing how large a mawile's general lifespan generally were.
"The mawile species, have fairly long life spans. While they cannot live for hundreds of years like a pure steel-type such as an agron or a steelix can, they can still survive well over a hundred years. Then again, most mawile never make it past their first decade— having become prey long before that."
Red didn't know what to feel about that.
"Mawile… are rather bloodthirsty by nature, mostly because of their instincts and way of life. Being small and easily preyed upon, wild mawile tend to go to extreme levels to hunt down prey and feast on it, since they are never sure when they'd get their next meal, or which moment might be their last."
"So… Mawile is?" Red didn't know how to phrase it. Come to think of it, he was unsure what he was supposed to think about it all, or how it changed things in regards to his knowledge of Mawile.
Your mawile… she's a bit more bloodthirsty than most, though that might be because of her own genetics. Mabel tells me that Mawile had a wild beartic as a parent, and beartic are rather vicious to begin with. In fact, in her initial two years, Mawile caused a lot of problems for Mabel's little ranch in Kalos. She retired to the higher reaches of Pomace Mountain to give Mawile a more restricted environment."
"I don't understand." Red refuted. "I know Mawile's not big on compassion and non-violence, but you're making her out to be some kind of inhuman monster."
"Pokémon are not human, Red." Oak retorted back. "I can see why you fail to grasp that point, considering your own childhood, but they aren't human. They are powerful creatures who are able to function alongside human society simply because humans have the technology and the power to keep them restrained."
"Sure," Red retorted back, "The next time I meet Mia and Kaz, I'll be sure to keep my distance in case they eat me for dinner. Wonder why your vicious Dragonite doesn't go off on a rampage and massacre Pallet Town. He's a monster, after all."
"That's not what I was talking about and you know it." Oak snapped. "And just so you know, Mia could cause an extreme imbalance in people's emotions should she so much as dip into her powers. Kaz can single-handedly massacre the entirety of Pallet Town before you knew it. Not I, not you, nor even the great Lance would be able to do anything about it."
"But they don't." Red was getting angrier by the second.
"Exactly, because they choose not to do that, not because they cannot. A knife has a sharp edge and it will draw blood should my palm fall on it. The fact that the knife is hence, kept sideways to avoid the sharp edge doesn't mean it is blunt." Oak answered." Red, I'm not trying to make you angry, nor convince you to see pokémon differently. God knows that understanding pokémon has been my lifelong dream. I just… I just want to point it out, that your way of seeing things might not match with Mawile's own perspective at all times."
"Don't worry, Professor. I know they aren't. Unlike humans, pokémon do not make other's lives a living hell because of pettiness."
Oak chose not to comment on that.
"Besides, if you were so… concerned about Mawile's bloodlust, why did you give her to me in the first place?" Red's voice had gotten harsher, and an odd gleam had come over his countenance. "I don't see how a bloodthirsty pokémon might seem like a good alternative to that pikachu, though I can see what's common between—"
"Enough!" Oak raised his voice.
"I know that you are still angry about the pikachu incident, but I will thank you not to link it with every single thing. I am sorry that I didn't take precautions for handling pikachu, but Mawile is a different matter altogether. I admit that she's got issues in the past, but Mawile has been slowly getting over them."
That shut Red up.
"Mabel told me how Mawile had become more… composed, and wanted to see the world beyond the mountain. Yes, I know she has had her issues with… occasionally biting others, but that is an instinctive response in her genetic makeup. However, I do wonder if Mawile had really gained control over her bloodlust, or if it was simply another example of deceit played by her on Mabel."
"I don't see how that matters anyway. Mawile and I… we are pretty good friends."
Oak smiled softly. "Yes, you might be, but you are new to this partnership. The bond between you is slowly forming, and it hasn't been tested yet. I am only concerned that things might fall into disarray, and should you have serious disagreements, then Mawile could possibly—"
"Attack me? Is that what you are saying?" A part of him pointed out that the Professor did make sense.
"It is a possibility. I'd suggest that you start catching other pokémon. Just to be sure. If I had known about this earlier, perhaps I might have gotten you something else and-"
"That's not necessary, old man." Red interrupted. "I have accepted Mawile as my starter and will continue with her. You don't have to worry about it. Speaking of which, is there anything else I should know about Mawile's terrible bloodlust? Maiming perhaps?"
"Don't get cocky with me," Oak warned. "Just keep in mind that she's pretty strong for her species, and has a tendency to go overboard during fights. As her trainer, it will be your responsibility to oversee that it never happens. I'd hate to see Mawile being taken away because you were lackadaisical about it, and believed that everything she did was fair game."
"Old man—"
"Let me finish," The professor replied sternly. "You may not have taken the Ritchie Kent incident sternly, but I did. Mr. Kent has been charged with the assault of an unregistered pokémon trainer. But while he was definitely at fault, you need to put a reign on Mawile's more vicious tendencies. Maiming another pokémon might be tolerated, but what if she attacked another trainer in rage? What happens then?"
For a moment, Red remembered the pikachu, fallen on the ground, and the taillow whom Mawile had inflicted with a crushing defeat. He had just taken Mawile and ran, but perhaps she had already taken care of the attackers before that.
"I… realize that bit. I'm working on that, but it will take time. Mawile and I… we don't know each other very well, and so far in this journey, she has been rather well-behaved for most of it. I am not putting our partnership at risk by bringing in complications about human prejudices and perspectives."
"But Red—"
"Besides, it's not like Mawile is all that bad. You yourself told me that Mawile used to help heal the pokémon babies, right? Well, I think that side of her is slowly showing up."
"Huh?" The professor tilted his head. "What do you mean?"
Red grinned. "Mawile's got a new hobby. Gardening."
Oak arched an eyebrow in disbelief.
"Yeah," Red went on animatedly. "Though I still wonder where she got that cherry-blossom from, she's scarily overprotective of it. She threatened me, quite viciously, should I ever come within two feet of the tree."
Oak blinked.
"Don't ask." Red deadpanned.
"Well… I suppose they come in all forms. Either way, I do not remember Mabel talking about Mawile's love for gardening. Must have slipped her mind."
"Give her a break, professor. She's still growing." Red replied, as if speaking to a petulant child who had been caught in wrongdoing.
"...right." Oak retorted, unsure what to feel at being treated like a five-year-old. "Anything else you can trouble me with?"
"There is something actually," Red answered, remembering what he wanted to bring up in the first place. Here was the old man, warning him against Mawile's behavior, and his plan was to let her battle independently. Polar opposites.
But that wasn't the only thought in his head. Something else had clicked. A random observation, one seen nearly every day, throughout his life, but only now it began to make sense.
"Professor," he began slowly, "tell me something honestly. Kaz is a psychic, so it's brainpower is at least several dozens of times higher than a human, right? Then why do human Trainers need to direct a psychic pokémon all through the course of a battle? Why would a nidoking need to wait for its trainer's orders, when it knows its own body and moves better? Why would a kadabra—?"
Oak looked up as if taken aback "Red, it is better if you understand that—"
But Red's mind was racing far too ahead to listen. Observation, analysis and developing strategy were his strong points, and currently, he could feel a single chain of thought link together...
"They are powerful creatures who are functioning alongside human society. "
"We have the technology to keep them restrained. "
"They are not human."
"Keeping a knife sideways doesn't mean it's blunt."
"Because allowing them to be their own masters would make them independent," Red spoke up, his mind ignoring whatever the man might have stated in the meanwhile. "Pokémon are powerful, and so we maintain the illusion that working for us, following our commands, will make them more powerful. If this illusion falls, then pokémon would be the dominant force on the planet. We'd be the hunted instead of the hunter. You fear Mawile hurting another pokémon, but if independent, it would be humans— us —that would be the prey."
Silence pervaded for several seconds.
Oak spoke first. "I always knew that your demonstrations of frightful intelligence were never a fluke. It is why I thought you'd make a wonderful scientist." He chuckled. "Coincidence or not, you seem to have grasped a truth of our world, and quite early at that. Most trainers never seem to realize it, and those that do, are already past elite-level, and raised teams through force, hardship, and attrition. At best, they try to be friendly and caring towards their team, if nothing else. Besides, nine times out of ten, trained pokémon are far stronger than there wild counterparts. Peace is, after all is said and done, the art of holding the bigger stick than your opponent."
"A fancy line considering we are the ones selling the sticks."
"Don't be idealistic. Look at the world around us. Why do you think we live in congregated areas and bind our entire population with large-walled, enclosed cities? Why the Kanto mainland… despite being so large, has just thirty percent of it colonized for human habitation?" Oak paused. "Our world is not a human world. It is a world where we coexist with several other species of creatures, stronger than us, and in some cases, smarter. You are simply being too idealistic and not considering the data at hand. There is a reason that Forbidden Zones still exist. Why do you think that despite us humans having been there for millennia, our oldest surviving records barely go further than six hundred years?"
That shut Red up.
"You must understand," Oak sighed. "Humans were not always on top of the food chain. We don't have strong physical bodies. We can't fly. We have no control over the elements. We barely have any records that date beyond the four hundred year mark and that's probably because our species only role was being food. Our path to the top has always been through several skills, weapons, and until most recently, technology. In time pokémon themselves became our power. Pokémon were treated quite cruelly, or at least they were, before the world became a bit more civilized. We seem to have outgrown our ancestral systems of mass suppression of pokémon, become more gentle with time, and gained a frightening nemesis in return."
Red looked confused "Which is?"
"Paperwork." Oak sighed. He bloody well meant it too.
"You can stay here, dance to your heart's content, and practice your psychic techniques. Grow stronger. Strong enough to survive out there. That way, the next time we meet, I'll have no problem taking you with me. Deal?"
That was what Mia had accepted, in exchange for allowing her precious Red to leave on his trainer journey by himself. She had sworn to herself, that she'd practice the psychic arts every day from dawn to dusk, exhausting herself so bad that even Kaz would shed tears at her dedication. She'd use her limited talents and take them to a level that even Kaz would feel proud, and to a certain extent, jealous of her. That did seem to be the best plan. Red would be so surprised when he met her next. He'd be oh-so-sorry that he'd chosen to trust in some random fairy over his precious Mia. Constant diligence did seem to be the key ingredient in making that happen. Her days would be filled with diligent training, learning to better wield psychic energy and—
…
…
And maybe a dance or two.
Mia blushed at that.
…
Or perhaps six or seven.
Or perhaps one every hour?
Or two?
Damn it, diligence was hard. Why couldn't she just develop her talents while dancing? That would have been amazing. Surely there was something she could improve at even while twirling around?
It had been nearly a week since Red left Pallet Town with the other fairy. She wasn't sure what it was, but there had been something that had distressed the kind, old professor in the last two days. Mia hoped that it didn't really have anything to do with Red. She had always been able to sense Red's emotions from afar, even if he was away at the Ranch. From what Kaz had told her, Red was going to Viridian city, that place with lots of buildings, and barely any greenery. Mia wasn't sure she liked Viridian City all that much.
If only I could sense him from here.
A meager desire it was not, since Mia's entire life revolved around Red and Red alone. Delia, she was another human that took up a mother's position in her life, but Red was the one it was based on. Red fed her, talked to her, taught her and told her stories about so many things. In fact, half of her day was centered around processing Red's emotions and trying to construct his thoughts from them.
And now, Red was away, and Mia was alone. And there was nothing she could do about it.
Or could she?
She was a fairy, right? Psychic power was one thing, but Mia was a kirlia, and kirlia was a fairy first and foremost. She grew beautiful when surrounded by happy thoughts and feelings. She felt stronger when Red's spirits were boundless. She grew sad and decayed when Red was hurt. Dancing not only brought her pleasure but also filled her with joy. And wasn't joy, and love, the most powerful emotion of all?
Mia smiled to herself. Perhaps there was something— some technique that she could master, even without sacrificing her dancing time, after all. She'd finally have something to show—
RED!
Her awareness screamed in delight. The professor was talking to Red. She could feel it. The emotional changes she sensed around the professor were similar to the ones that happened when Red chatted with him. And that meant—
Mia gave a happy little spin, before shooting towards the Ranch.
"What you are suggesting is quite… bold." Oak suggested. "To try and make your team make their own decisions during battle. It is practically unheard of, for anyone to do it successfully."
"But why?" Red challenged. "I don' t understand the issue. Mawile understands her body physiology better than I ever could. I say Icy Wind, but it is her that actually gives it form and not just that. She does it in a matter of seconds, and that too, mid-battle. Pokémon do not have poor memories, as far as their attacks are concerned, and they do survive in the wild. Then why do they need to wait for the trainer to issue commands during a match?"
Oak remained quiet, suspiciously so.
" I have seen Mawile display all of her abilities perfectly by herself, and she is also able to make logical decisions mid-battle as well." Red's face scrunched up."I remember her facing Ritchie's taillow when it used Double Team. Mawile hadn't realized they were illusions and chose to go forward with an Iron Head attack, a decent strategy had they been real. When I suggested Icy Wind instead, she looked at me like I'd grown a new head."
Oak chuckled at that." Bet she was surprised when it worked."
"She was, but it got me thinking. If I could teach her about the different forms of attacks, the effect of terrain and illusion, about type advantages and disadvantages, then she'd be able to make better decisions mid-battle."
"That is what a trainer is for, Red. To make the better decision during battle."
"Seems more like a liability than a trainer." Red refuted. "I offered Mawile to make her strong, not be her crutch."
Oak sighed. "Do you realize just how utterly exhaustive that is? Teaching a pokémon all of that? Besides, even if a psychic could even learn all of it, you cannot expect all pokémon to be the same. A rhyhorn forgets the cause of its movement as soon as it starts running."
"Yes, but it sure doesn't forget that being in rain saps its strength." Came the retort. "Stimulated responses, old man." Red appeared way too excited at the possibility. "Though enough simulated practice of the effect of different terrain, my pokémon can judge which moves would be effective, and which wouldn't. It will be a time-consuming task, but the end result will be worth it."
"I highly doubt that such a course of action would be viable while being on a journey, Red," Oak answered. "You have just started your journey, and have yet to acquire a badge, let alone all eight. There is also the question of the league conferences."
Red scrunched his face again. The old man had a point. A very serious point. "I… hadn't taken that into account."
"See that you do." The professor advised. "Also, do not be so naive to think that you are the first person in history to even think of such an approach. Several trainers, mostly elites and champion-level trainers out there, have tried and failed in this venture. Besides, there are other reasons why I'd, and not just me, every human would discourage you from undertaking this venture."
"Which is?"
"Pride, and pragmatism," Oak explained. "If your team is the one making all decisions by themselves, then what remains of your role in the team? Acting as a caretaker for the baby additions? Why would a charizard obey you, if it is perfectly capable of making its own decisions in and out of battle?"
" Doesn't the fact that I taught them everything count?"
" Hardly." Red was shocked at the man's dry tone. "If you are good at something, never do it for free. Mawile might be willing to follow your orders now, but as you said, she listens to your commands because they make sense. When your commands aren't needed, what good are you?"
"You think that pokémon follow a utilitarian policy?"
"Don't we all?" Oak challenged. "Why exactly did you want a charmander? Wasn't it because you wanted a dragon? Because dragons were superior? Weren't you being utilitarian as well?"
"I was." Red accepted. "But that means that I'd have to intentionally keep my team from being the best they can be."
"And here I thought it was about you becoming a Champion. Was it not? Isn't that what being a trainer is all about? To capture them all, train them and use them to achieve your ambitions. Wasn't that why you wanted to keep Mia away? Because you treat her like family, and would, therefore, hesitate to use her as a tool?"
Red stayed silent, his mind and heart in conflict over what the professor was presenting to him.
"Then I… I…"
"Don't act impulsively, Red," Oak replied in a softer tone. 'You have one of the brightest minds I've ever seen, and I know that you do not give up so easily. Just… whatever you do, make sure you think it through."
Red let out a mirthless chuckle at that. "Don't worry about that, old man. I'll be perfectly—"
"KIRRLLLLLLLLL!"
Mia dashed into the room, half afloat and half on the ground. Red estimated that the Kirlia had used a form of psychic agility to accelerate her locomotion, and got overwhelmed, losing her coordination in the process. She nearly slammed herself against one of the larger glass canisters, before swiftly turning to her right, and facing the main screen.
"KIRRLLLL!" She yelled in excitement.
"MIA!" Red yelled back, excited to see his little sister.. "I didn't think you'd be awake. What's wrong with Pallet Town? First, the old man misses his nap, and now you're here instead of dancing?"
The kirlia scowled at that and began to explain, rather colorfully, how she was not in fact, dancing, and how she was actually working on developing her own skills. She might have conveniently forgotten to mention that she had not put a pause to her dancing activities, but that was neither here nor there.
Red raised his hands in surrender. As a kirlia, Mia still did not have the skill to use Telepathy. Out of all psychics in Kanto, only the abra-line showed tremendous potential in that field. However, upon further evolution into a gardevoir, if and when that happened, Mia would gain the ability. Honing the skill though, was a completely different matter.
That said, Red had learned to recognize nearly everything Mia said from her animated gestures, and while he might not understand every single thing, he still got the gist of it. "Well, I'm sure you've been practicing really hard, haven't you?"
BOUNCE!
"Kirrllll!" Mia sang, allowing her powers to defy gravity to bounce up into the air, before slowly returning to the floor. Red was right, of course. There were so many things that she had practiced. Kaz had taught her a little bit of Telekinesis, and she had just progressed from levitating a rubber ball to a wooden box the other day. She had also been working on her own Fairy Wind though it needed a lot more practice to get it in a passable range. She'd demonstrate all of that in front of Red, and he'd be so happy.
Red laughed. "I'm very happy for you."
BOUNCE!
"And I can't wait to see you when I get back to Pallet Town."
BOUNCE!
"I'm in Viridian now, and from here, I'll be visiting Pewter, and then through Mt. Moon, get to Cerulean."
BOUNCE!
Mia frowned. Wasn't Red supposed to come home as quickly as possible? Why would he make such a—?
"From there, I'd probably visit Celadon City, and then take the water-route back to Pallet Town."
Mia stopped bouncing, a teary-eyed expression on her face. Red was going to take a very, very long time before he came home. Mia didn't like that. She wanted him there. She wanted him back home right now.
"But don't worry," Red replied. "I have Mawile with me, and I'll call you whenever I get to a new city."
Mia did not like it at all. All those thoughts about demonstrating her new moves flew out of the window.
"Llia?" She asked weakly. Was she being replaced? Was the other fairy better than her because she was stronger? Had Red already started forgetting about her?
Please give me an indication that I am still important to you, as you are to me. Mia wished. Please show me that you can read me just as well as you could before.
Red seemed to understand her problem, as his expression further softened. "Don't worry, Mia. I'll be okay. Don't worry too much."
No. No, he doesn't.
"Kirl," She murmured, and with that, Mia let out her first fake smile.
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