Chapter Text
Step four: Connection Check!
If your connection to your pokemon is not well rounded, you’re simply not gonna have a nice time Training for anything. Pokemon are not characters in games. They’re living, breathing, thinking creatures… even the ones that aren’t alive, don’t breath, and can’t think as they lack the required brain to do so.
Pokemon, like everything else, have no purpose. They aren’t for Battle, or showing off, or collecting. If you have a Fearow, take the time to groom it! Preen it’s pin-feathers, figure out it’s favorite snack; find ways to hug and cuddle.
Every Pokemon you decide to Train is a pokemon you have tacitly agreed to love and befriend.
A bad connection— a bad relationship— is what’s going to beef your executions, fumble your strategies, and make your experience in Battle sluggish, jittery, and frankly, dangerous. Bad relationships are why Pokemon won’t listen to you.
It’s beyond the remit of this ten-step guide to explain how to have a good relationship. For stuff like that… There’s literally thousands of resources! Books, games, videos on Pokétube, asking other people how they do it, even asking at the PokeCenter for Therapist availability; all of those options and more I can’t think of are available to you, right now. If you think you need to change something; change it!
I think, a long time ago when Motostoke was new, the Glimwood Tangle and the Spikemuth Copse met in the middle and became a forest now gone; and in that Old Growth, a Skwovet could run from coast to coast without ever touching the humble ground or any stone hewed by human hands.
Gone, lost, mourn, despair—
Grief for the realm that once was there—
Gone, lost, mourn, lament—
The end of the glory none could prevent—
It’s beyond my power to restore the whole old growth. I’m not sure anyone can; I’m not sure seeds for those trees still exist at all. What I could do, and am doing, is restoring the Spikemuth Copse. Really, it’s the entire Spikemuth Wetland Zone.
Wetlands are important, but we don’t need to dive into that hyperfixation and life’s ordained mission from the gods right now.
Here’s a funny story from before. There once was a kind of bird that lived in one place— something like a Pidgey or a Pidove, or maybe a Swellow. They migrated; they were unique. They all died. I don’t remember how. What I do remember is, in about ten years after they died, a new population appeared of the same bird— because they were supposed to be there, I think. Because when conditions are correct, a properly shaped animal will just appear, no question asked by the animal. Or plant. Or what have you.
Sometimes, the world will want a bear’mon, but the only thing available is something from the mustelids. Sometimes the world needs Darkness, but only has Grassy leaf piles. Sometimes the world needs a cat that can chase Ratata through cairns of stone by squirming through the space between the rocks.
The world is good at making do and mending; and coming up with a new application of an old, old trick.
So it was with Fomantis and Lurantis. They’re Poison-Grass types, of course, just like Galarian Tangela and Galarian Tangrowth (they’re like little ponytailed bramble balls with turn buckle shoes, it’s adorable), and they look more… ruffled and pinstriped. But there they are. What’s weird is that the only other place they’re known to exist at all is Alola— but I have theories I can’t substantiate about that too. I’m not a geologist; but plate tectonics are still very, very real. It wouldn’t surprise me if the sea that used to cover Spikemuth— I can just tell, okay— also used to cover Alola.
Alola is geologically new. Comfey aren’t, they just aren’t always called Comfey.
No we are not diving down that hyperfixation Bunnelby hole right now, I have to buy groceries.
It’s interesting. There’s a lot of Dark types out there, and I have all of them it’s legal to have in Galar, plus the training manuals for all known iterations of publically available Dark-type moves, and the ones I just made up. Some dark types I genuinely don’t have appropriate habitat for; others, I don’t have the time and temperament to train properly. The only one that isn’t on the banned list for me, that I haven’t trained? Crawdaunt— and that’s because the Galar-variant Wishiwashi populations are still recovering. Two more years should be enough; but I’m not in any rush.
There’s specialized equipment and habitat on the land I’ve appended to the Gym that’s meant for their comfort, but some of them I actually stable out in other parts of Galar, or even in Alola with cousin’t Nana, for the sun and heat.
That was part of what I’d done, on my journey: I’d looked for Dark types in regions I’d never heard of at all. Except I had, on a Fakemon wiki that was only images and typing and bits of their history— except even that stuff was only the broad strokes dumbed down for children.
There were Carecks and Carachaos from the broad heartlands of Hyrule; and there were Kreprowl, hidden in hot-spring warmed caves high in the Crown Tundra because of marauding Perrserker bands a long time ago, the actual native Galarian cat’mon. There were herds of Burrouge and Donkrank I’d found in the mountains on my travels, and my Deboneigh McMahon was simultaneously the best lead stallion of his herd, and exactly the kind of asshole I’d named him for. He loved Wrestling Week so much, even though he hardly ever got to battle in the Gym…
While traveling from Holdrum to Hyrule and back during my graduate studies, I’d caught the gym’s Eclipser, Boanoir, and Anaclipso, Condont and Buzzador, schools of Alucarp and Draculurk, a clowder of Servelot and Protelot, got an infestation of Rudent and an adult quad of Thugrunt out of my advisor’s back garden (Impa Kakariko was a nice old ninja lady, honestly, and yes, I know), researched how to evolve Dubwool into Cordox or Horribaa in the Holdrum National Folklore Archives (and made a note of how to get a Lullabaa, which I can’t actually do seeing as I’m a Dark Type and Lullabaa are not— but Sage of Avonferth seemed to relish the challenge after finally defeating me fairly, so… we stay winnin’ in Spikemuth?), caught Leerup and Howlurk packs in the mountains, helped contribute to the Hyrulean National Health Service by becoming an internationally registered breeder of Hemoglee and Suclot, which are very important both for the ecological health of the tropical regions I bred them for, and as a feeder species for a variety of Dark-types it would otherwise be financially ruinous to keep… oh, and also they’re the source of most stable supplies of blood in hospitals and PokeCenters the world over.
If you or your pokemon needed a transfusion, it was either a Hemoglee or a Suclot that helped you out. Three out of ten of those Hemoglee or Suclot came from me—and some other people in Spikemuth, I can’t actually supply three-tenths of the worlds supply of All-Type-type-safe blood myself.
It feels weird to breed these little bloodsuckers in my triple-sealed basem*nt; on the other hand, they’re Bug-Dark Types, and it is very rare that one wants to become a partner to anyone at all. They don’t live very long either— less than a year, most of the time, even when partnered with a human. This, I’ve found, is true of all the genuinely parasitic pokemon in this world. They have fast turnover rates in population because they’re food.It’s the same with Midgies and Ribombee— yeah, there’s a lot of them. All the time. Because they breed fast, live fast, and die even faster as something bigger and bird-er comes around and eats them up like bonbons.
I helped take down the NeoGanon Society and took possession of their Cubera, Meravage, and Chimeroar— those ones that could be rehabilitated at all, anyway. I agreed to relocate flocks of Monochrow and Crowme, and schools of Jawark, Pierciark, and Maliciark; and that was just the Pokemon I was allowed to import for the Gym and biodiversity. That’s not even discussing the Pokemon I don’t use in fights at all, because they’re not for that, they’re for other things.
Hyrule has Honedge and Doublade; but they don’t have Aegislash. Perhaps because Hyrulean Aegislash is Steel-Fairy type, and tends to live upwards of five thousand years…
By the time I got back to Spikemuth and really stuck into building depth in my gym roster, I was also stuck into restoring the Spikemuth Copse— really, the entire Spikemuth Wetland Zone, which encompasses a geographical area from just east of the Motostoke Seam to the west, north to the Cliffs of Quay, east to the actual dropoff in the sea, south to the jagged rocks of Crescent Bay, and deep under the actual cliffs and hills of this lowly bog.
I had to repair the sand beaches; I had to rebuild ecodiversity; I had to restructure the city. I had to, for the sake of the health and happiness of the pokemon I’d collected for gym use. For the sake of the people who live here. To justify to myself, if no one else, the sheer ludicrousness of owning an entire f*cking castle.
Because the God of Gratitude, Shaymin, asked me politely— and seems to be delighted with the changes I’ve helped usher in. The Galarian Gracidea up in the Ruined Temple grounds certainly grow nicely. On the one hand, I’d really like to show someone, anyone, some of this— but on the other hand, Bebe doesn’t really… ah, she’s still young, y’know? She’s not yet twelve. The world will teach her gratitude eventually; until then, I will keep the secret of the Shaymin.
Leader Chia was very helpful with the Ecological Revitilization Plan, actually— for one, her name on the proposal in conjunction with mine gave it weight it wouldn’t have normally had, and all she wanted in return was a Cordox. That’s easy— especially since Priya actually likes her.
For two, she helped source Poison-resistant Gossifleur to start restoring the health of the soil. That took a single year. Pokemon are wild sh*t.
With the soil restored, the shivering aspens recovered enough to be called a copse again, and the trees of the Auld Woods started spreading out. That’s when the ghosts came back— and that, that more than anything, made my choice of Dark as a specialty make sense to the world at large. Specifically, the Galar League understood why some violent weirdo from the nowhere sticks of Spikemuth specialized in notoriously finicky and vicious Dark types. What was there to be feared in the nothing of Spikemuth?
Oh, lots of things. Enough for a whole Type specialist to exist, even. You can keep your Hex Maniacs and your Channelers; in Spikemuth? We haveDruids.
Spiroot, after all, are not just the Galarian Phantump. They don’t tend to behave like Ghosts at all, most of the time. They’re the spirits (or so it’s said) of all the Aspen trees that died when Motostoke’s runoff and ash and soot blanketed Spikemuth. When the big coal lodes were mined out— to get to that coal, the trees were cut down and back and down again. And the spirits of those treesremember.
There are no Kleavor, in the Auld Woods. There’s no Scyther, either— even though, by all indications, therecould be. The climate is fine for them; and there’s plenty of black augurite. But they are not here.
The memory of a ghost is long and full of bitterness…
Plantasm is what happens when those sad little stumps decide they’re not having it anymore and unionize— at least, that’s what happens in the wild. Or so the Druids tell me, when I stop round their forest homes to check for proof of life and visit a little.
There’s Kreprowl and Lyntorynx— Meowth and Perrserker displaced the native Galarian cat’mon, remember? That’s a polite way of describing a war, displaced.
Horstella and Broncosmos came down from the mountains with the restoration of the flood-meadows. Something about the wet, squidgy ground helps them train their psychic powers? Dunno. Puka and Kelpinny came back with the water-meadows and stock ponds and springs— apparently they have Root-Formes that allowed them to enter hibernation-like states in the dried up clay and mud where they’d once lived. The real surprise for me, having done so much research and regular searching, was, well, the Whindy and the Pegasoar.
Whindy and Pegasoar are native to Hallas, far to the south; but, apparently, if you build it, they really will come. That’s how it seemed with the Coltergeist and Phanteke, who showed up when the tramway and the ferries got put in. Actually, they had always been there— it was just the Abandoned Railway was, well, abandoned. And those poor pit-ponies too, in cold and dark loneliness. The Tropius really do just show up sometimes though, during the summer— I don’t know why, but I’m happy to see those doofy banana tree dinosaurs anyway.
Part of the reason Spikemuth is so naturally suited for Dark types is the sheer weight of Ghosts here, beyond the scope of its living underground. A living forest, no matter how Ghost-filled and creepy, is not actually its ghosts. The Underground of Spikemuth is not actually Spikemuth. The Topside of Spikemuth is not Spikemuth.
To understand this place, you have to look at the whole thing.
Dammit, I said I’m not hyperfixating right now! I’m doing groceries! (It’s not just for the Autistics, anyone can hyperfocus! Aaaagh groceries groceries groceries—)
I picked up the mail now that the man was dead.
It wasn’t hard; just annoying. I was really careful with checking all the credit card bills to make sure the woman didn’t steal my identity again, because having multiple fraud claims made things… harder.
My trainer ID came in a thick envelope that I left the flat to open. Out through the living-room window, and up the fire escape to the roof. The Creeklaw and Flapscals up there don’t mind me much. Especially if I share snacks. So long as I remember to eat some of my snack first and then share, it’s fine. We share a small bag of shrimp chips after I eat the first one.
I opened the envelope with the captain Swashbeak— I just call her Captain, and she doesn’t seem to mind— of that crew watching over my shoulder. The first thing to come out was a short letter.
To: Audrey Gracidea Trewyn Cardinal Pendragon of Spikemuth
The Pokemon League of Galar is proud to induct you into our ranks as an official Pokemon Trainer. You now have the privilege of entering all Pokemon League sanctioned events (upon meeting prerequisites) in all League recognized regions.
The enclosed identification card will be your primary ID for Pokemon League sanctioned events and functions as a valid form of government ID, as a bank card, and upon the accreditation of eight standard Galarian badges, as a work visa and passport. If lost, damaged, or stolen, please see your nearest Pokemon Center for a replacement. The replacement fee will depend on the Pokemon Center in question.
As a Trainer sponsored by Lonesome Bailey’s Memorials, Spikemuth, Galar, you are entitled to several special benefits. You will receive:
One (1) Biweekly stipend totaling 2170.57 credits (post tax) per payment, subject to League embellishment per number of Badges earned during Challenge Period
One (1) Stipend advance of 1981.23 credits (post tax), per approval by reporting Nurse Joy
One (1) bicycle voucher
One (1) PC Box Link voucher
One (1) Pokedex voucher
One (1) Trainer Bag voucher
One (1) Trainer Scheme Agreement Starter Pokemon; speak with reporting Nurse Joy for further details
Free use of non-medical Pokemon Center services, and Discounted use of restricted medical Pokemon Center services
One (1) free PC Storage Box
One (1) Trainer’s Kit, with Standard Uniform included, held in trust at the Spikemuth Central Pokemon Center
Upon deposit of the enclosed stipend advance voucher, the Pokemon League will issue biweekly payments to the account that received the voucher for the above listed amount. Please contact the Pokemon League billing department if this information needs to be updated and/or changed. The advance voucher may be deposited at any Pokemart or Pokemon Center with an ATM.
All other vouchers may be used once.
See AlsoPresent - AnchobeanieTheChoctoling - Fire Emblem: Soen no Kiseki/Akatsuki no MegamiPet Mod - Fusion Evolution UU [Gen 9] - Slate 4 | Submission Phase | Open for SubmissionsDo Showcases Bother You?A copy of this Endorsem*nt Letter may be requested at any time; and is available digitally at any time at a Pokemon Center or Pokemon League Facility pending PC availability.
Season start is on the Tenth of September. Please muster to Wyndon at that time. Please be advised that all badges have a two-year limit of validity from time of earning, as counted from season start.
We at the Pokemon League wish you the best in this year’s wonderful Championship Cup. Adventure awaits you.
Signed,
Mustard, Galar Champion
The stamp that made ‘Mustard’s’ signature had smudged a little. I knew from asking that a League Standard camping kit wasn’t anywhere near enough for camping.
You know what’s easy to do, in a world where the local seagulls can sign contracts? Ask them to watch your stuff and be assured it’ll still be there when you come back. I packed the envelope of precious vouchers in the old cooler I called a treasure chest so the birds would protect it. The little pirates liked having a secret base and keeping treasure in it. They’re good lads and lasses, these Creeklaw and Flapscal, and their mother, Captain, is very gentle. Especially now that she understands my… situation.
I just wanted somewhere safe to keep my collection of things I’d need on my journey.
The woman, when she drags herself out of the bottom of a bottle, just screams and throws things at me, so. Even if I’m wrong, like, totally wrong, and I can’t make it out there— I’m not coming back here to her, not ever again.
It’s my life, it’s now or never—
I ain’t gonna live forever—
First stop: the ‘reporting Nurse Joy’ is definitely Nurse Beth at the PokeCenter by the Corvi’s. She wanted to talk to me anyway, when I got my letter— actually, might as well take the envelope, there’s some things Nurse Beth can help with that I shouldn’t do myself. She helped with the ADHD medication, helped me get my vaccinations back on schedule, taught me about caring for neglected pokemon… and she figured out a scheme so it’s basically just pocket money that I’ll need to get started and keep going for years, and as soon as I have my actual License, it’ll be even less than that.
The PokeCenter down the hill from my flat smells like wee and wet dog, but Nurse Bethany Joy lets me go through the Center’s Lost and Found every Last of May, and I think she seeds extra good things in there too. She has purple hair and big brown eyes, and her Croagunk is really nice.
I shove the envelope into my waistband because I don’t have a bag. I could risk going through the house, pop that confrontation early— or I could actually plan ahead like I’m supposed to. I climbed down the fire escape until it turned into an alley, but not like— more like a service tunnel? I don’t really understand our apartment building.
Getting a library card printed is about how long it takes for the Center’s wheezing printer to spit my Trainer ID out… and while it was doing that, I’d cashed in the money voucher so I had shopping funds. Nurse Beth had written down a whole list of places for me to go, given me a bunch of vaccinations, and let me choose between three on-hand Starters. I stared down at the three new pokeballs and rubbed the Skitty-themed bandaid on my arm, and I picked the one in the middle.
Here in Spikemuth, it was going to be a moorland Tangela, a Creeklaw, or a Sandile from the beach. All three would work for me just fine; so I picked the middle one, which statistically no one ever picks.
I got a Sandile. Nurse Beth gave me her old Traveling Nurse Bag, which is sturdier and bigger than any Trainer’s Bag. It reminds me of Mary Poppins, which doesn’t exist here yet— I read the books—
She also gave me two sets of Dark-type Uniforms in the multi-size one-size-really-does-fit-most stuff they have here. I got to choose the articles that make up the uniform; so, I have the crop top and un-shredded tights combination, with the Dark pink socks.
From the Center’s lost and found, which I’ll take as-is: ten packs of winterized Trainer-grade tights, and five packs of Spikemuth fishnet tights (oh very funny Nurse Beth); a Premier pack of pokeballs, a Contest Case with only two seals and a roll of water themed stickers, a half-full refill bottle of Hyper Potion, and a really pretty five-x Liepard shirt.
From the Center’s lost and found, which I’ll take because I know how to sew and modify clothing: two hoodies that’ll take dye well and can be adjusted for their damaged condition and the hood strings fixed too; three Trainer-grade pinafores with weird ruffled hems, but that’s easy to fix and they’re all black, perfect; a real Wooloo sherpa vest, made of real leather. It smells like smoke, an easy fix, especially because it goes down past my butt; and I’ll never be able to afford anything as nice before I’m actually in Circhester legitimately. I find a lot of tourist’s things, unhemmed rectangles of clean fabric, like hankies? I think? But I’ll use them as foot wraps. I find several balls of wool (enough for a jumper in my current size), a pair of blanket knitting needles, two halves of a bikini that would fit me for years, and a lot of really nice towels made of real linen and terry cloth thread— all sort of floating around the bottom of the shelves.
From the Center’s lost and found, because I’m allowed to enjoy this life, even if some parts of it suck ass: a ‘fashionable’ Trainer’s belt that has standard pokeball clips. It reminds me of my favorite superhero from before; and it comes with two incredibly light cabochon earrings and two crystal-shaped earrings too. I like the gold; I like the red; I like how wearing it makes me feel brave and cool.
From the Center’s lost and found, and happy to have it: a slightly chewed on voucher for ‘Spikemuth Ranger Boots and Socks’ that’s still valid; a pair of gloves in my size and mittens that fit over them properly. Nurse Beth agreed to donate my Bag voucher to the Orphanage Tournament Prize Fund, but only if she could take me properly shopping for things I wanted but didn’t need before I went on my Journey.
From the Corvi’s across the street, after packing away the stuff I found and agreeing to Nurse Beth’s pity, because I am in a pitiful state: two twenty-packs of plain white cotton underwear in my size, same again plain white socks, same again undershirts. A block of Dr. Grimer’s ALL-ONE Castile soap, unscented. Eight of the same plain black shirt, long sleeve squirtlenecks, and midlength sleeve shirts. Unflavored toothpaste, a toothbrush, a comb, a travel mirror; block shampoo and conditioner.
From the Bike Store (Harrelson’s Wheels and Wonders): an Ordinary Bike. Rotom don’t really, like, like me? So. Just an ordinary bike, with a helmet, and if I bust my ass that’s my fault.
Here’s a crazy thing about whatever happened to me: I didn’t have to learn how to ride a bike. I just could. Right from the start. I needed it to get to Spikemuth Central PokeCenter in anything like speed; and all that training I’d done at the spin-cycle class had to be worth something, right?
I actually was right.
My ten-miles of leg and muscle are not for exhibition. They’re for rock climbing, running, peddling an ordinary bike (in this world, so it weighs basically nothing and can stand up to a truly wild amount of abuse)(not ‘Night of a Million Billion Joltiks’ levels of abuse, but Suzy really was sorry and she did make it up to me), and kicking Poachers in the ass. And also, swimming and running around on the beach, but that’s just standard obvious stuff—
It never would have been possible without the help of the Silverback Mightyena Matrons of Spikemuth.
From the PokeMart: Spikemuth Ranger Boots and Socks, rated to full whiteout conditions in Circhester and the Crown Tundra, reliable in all weather, and of sturdiest construction. They have real steel toe boxes, and because I’m a new trainer, I get two pairs, just in case, and the lifetime warranty with affiliated boot makers, if I provide the hides. The Clerk in the shoe section recommended I wear them out, and keep wearing them every day for the next month to have them broken in by the time I leave for my Journey.
From Shopping with Nurse Beth (in plain clothes, this time, with her Croagunk, Stabbleton, out with us): a pokeblock kit, a berry pouch, and a haircut. Getting my ears pierced at a head shop, not somewhere that just sold jewelry. The Phone Warehouse, for a Poryphone and a Researcher’s Pokédex Nurse Beth had ordered in for me ages ago on lay-away. A Contest Pass; and a custom Contest Costume to lean into the Mary Poppins theme, and a makeup case, and a Trainer’s Trunk for all my clothes. A stop at Petticoat Fair, for actual petticoats, two regular-people corsets, and the Trainer-grade sports bras. I will need them, according to Nurse Beth.
(And that was because I started menstruating and the tit* came in. Puberty 2! Better than the first one, if only because my body was just— better. No PCOS. No aversion to shower noise, hair on my ears, same category syndrome, and other signifiers of the ‘tism. No acne; no stretch marks; no body odor. Light sensitivity in exchange still feels like nothing.
Pretty sure the Almighty itself can’t take the ADHD away though.)
Before I went to the flat to sleep, I stopped in the PC to formally transfer ownership of the man’s pokemon to my license. The man was actually from Kalos and registered at four badges. That was how many badges I had to have before I could use Stern or Lina in a Gym Match. That was fine; I didn’t want Stern or Lina on my license for Gym Battles.
I climbed back up the fire-escape to the roof, which looks out over the cliffs. There’s a stairwell over the wall that goes down to the beach. Captain doesn’t like it when I go alone. She’s very pleased to look after my bag while I have to go back down and sleep in the flat.
The next day I take my Bag downstairs after the woman stomped out for work. I pack up the things I want to take with me that I keep in my room: my sewing and knitting and crochet, my pokemon care kit, and my savings for the Big Shopping Trip at PokéMart.
I floated in to the Don Quixote-like store like I was a cartoon character and there was a pie— and then I remembered myself, and turned around to get a basket and check my Bag at the counter.
I had plenty of money. If I couldn’t figure something out in two years, well.
One thing that did come with the Trainer Kit that I liked was a cookbook that explained how to do meal planning for myself and my pokemon. I broke out a new journal and read through it at the listening table of my favorite music store. I already knew the secret of the List, and even without my active Trainer ID I was already on a thirty-day circadian-synched slow-release Adderall-except-it’s-Worry-Seed, somehow. I had thirty years of managing ADHD already; so here and now? Without the ‘tism?
Well, the gods had to nerf me somehow.
I spent the rest of that day organizing my Bag on the roof as Captain and her crew observed with pride. I busted into my notebooks and pens. I made my lists.
At that time, I had a list of things to bring camping from Before, and I knew camping in this world was essentially the same, just way more popular especially for Trainers. This world was real, not an anime or manga or game, and there’s no actual laws stopping a child from buying a knife. There are laws about guns; not knives, or slings, or bullets.
From my extensive friendships in every club that would have me in Spikemuth, I had a collection of things from friends I’d have to go around and collect. It was mostly stuff that was expensive or specialized. Things like 300 feet of Ranger-tough rope and carabiners, or the nuts and crafts kit from the Handmade Pokeball Enthusiast’s club. All of it would take weeks to collect, so it was best to chart the route now and make sure I had all my favors and errands wound up and ready to go.
The day after that, I finally went shopping with Nurse Beth. It was actually several different excursions over the summer months, in between getting the many wondrous gifts from the Silverback Mightyena Matron Collective of Spikemuth; but I remember them all as one big long thing. Like an Orthworm hunting Oddish.
A stop at an optometrist for my first two pairs of medical sunglasses. I have a particular sensitivity to light in the blue spectrum, but too much broadspectrum light at once can actually blind me for several hours. It’s fairly common in Spikemuth; I just have it strong enough to need special sunnies and a note from Nurse Beth so they’re Trainer-grade and also free. I had to pay for the glasses chains, though. And gladly! Pince nez need a much bigger city, unfortunately— I’ll have to go to Hulbury, or even Wyndon, for something like that.
Rope, a fishing rod, and an up to date map from Mister Bailey and his ancient Pelipper. A watch and a compass from his wife. Siri, who’s two years past her own Gym run, gives me her old hi-tech earbuds.
A stop at a leather shop for some Bag modifications on another day of shopping. My Bag needs to have a shoulder strap or back straps of some kind— shoulder strap is doable, so that’s what I get. While I wait for it to be done, I go next door for a stationery set, postage stamps, tracing paper, a really good thick sketchbook, good art supplies (not the cheap kits marketed up front, I want the good sh*t), and a nice big zip-bag to put it all in.
A stop by PC Central for my Trainer’s Kit and Standard Uniform, which amounts to my choice of DevTech Trainer’s Sleeping Bag Set, or a DevTech Tent Set; and a Standard Uniform. I picked the Tent set, because legally it has to be brand new; and brand new sleeping bag things aren’t so vitally important. Miss Adele would only give me one, as the other would be gifted to the Orphanage; but I like the sleeping bag set I got. Even if it does smell like bubble gum— that’s fixed by washing it again. Easy.
A sturdy deck chair from Miz Desdemona, now that she’s not so good at sitting so close to the ground. A saddle, too, for all my help around her barns. And horse tack. And my choice of Indigo or Galarian Ponyta at my third badge— unless I’d rather a Zebstrika or a Mudbray? Oh, don’t cry mushy, we can talk some more after each badge, shhhh—
A stop at the Pawniard Shop for a knife, a pair of all-use goggles, a rebreather, and extra things I know I’ll need. A day-trip to the moorland for the monthly Nymble-market: for a camp oven, dustpan set, two clean sturdy thermoses, a pie iron, a waffle iron from Paldea, a glass-smooth cast iron skillet, a donabe rice cooker from Indigo, two large kettles, and a wok.
From each quilting guild I’m in: a large quilt, of heirloom quality. I’m not ashamed that I cried. Wouldn’t you? For a blanket a group of people and pokemon made and signed with love for you?
A trip to Motostoke and the Big Pokemart there— for child-safe Multivitamins, a charcoal and tinderbox, matches, flint and steel, cheap firebricks because this is where they’re made, sharpening stones, a can and bottle opener, a quern from their Nymble-market, a very highly rated water filter according to my Zygardi Tante, Miz Lobelia; and a book-tablet from the Motostoke City Library, so I can participate in the All City Galar Book Rally. They’ll let me keep the tablet if I do the whole thing in five years; and Spikemuth City Library was out.
A trip to the west side, where the Zygardi made their homes in the old mines and warren-caves along the cliffs and hills. Miz Lobelia, who taught me to cook, did a walk-round for all the extra cooking things she could find for me. In return, I finally teach her how to make the world’s best pot roast, which she’s been after for all the time I’ve known her. Ever since she tasted what my grandmother before made, and I remembered; she’s wanted to know. Well, now she knows— and it’s low sodium, too, for the sake of my grandmother’s heart. She also gave me a collection of jam jars refilled with spices and herbs from everyone’s gardens and I just— when the Berry Pots came out, I started crying.
I actually just made the rugs I wanted over the summer. The travel tea set I still have and sent on with Bebe I won in a mahjong tournament. My cooler, about the size of a good adult lunchbox before; and an actually nice trestle table that’s a good height for a deck chair. Camp dishes; camp laundry; camp everything.
I’d found a storm lantern in the Auld Woods, after checking it over for Litwicks; and I’d fixed it, and gotten a spare can of lamp oil, and a roll of wick. I had sunscreen with the Sunflora on the bottle because of all the ones I’d ever tried, it was the closest to the stuff I’d loved before— Bananaboat Waterproof Sunscreen, Watermelon Scented. That stuff was like magic; but we only ever had it in the house once. I bought more, at Trainer prices, and was thankful for it.
Emergency candles and emergency radio— I got those from the Ranger’s Outpost out on the Moors, and I got them new in box.
I also got to rummage and dig through the big PokeCenter Warehouse where all the Lost and Founds end up before they flog it all off, donate to the Orphanage, or whatever else they do. Everything cost ten credits a pound— so, even if I couldn’t store it yet, the purchase was reasonable. At that price, what wouldn’t be?
Everything I couldn’t find for cheap otherwise I got there. A wash bottle for camp toileting; a sponge bag and washing sponge and loofah; a lantern pole, a drying rack, a mixed bag of washed poketoys, a cute Farfetche’d umbrella with a case that looks like a leek, and a good pair of scissors. I found a DevTech tote for my knitting and crochet, even more yarn, enough bamboo skeweres to not need to buy more until Unova, and a DevTech Folder for important documents. I even found an all-size-fits Turffield Hat in black that didn’t need any repairs at all, just a new chinstrap.
I spent that whole summer packing and repacking my bag, sorting it around its organizer slots— more than a regular Trainer’s bag— growing and harvesting Berries, finding all the stuff for s’mores because those also don’t exist here but they will if I have anything to say about it, breaking in my boots, and carefully moving my treasures from my mattress to my Bag on the roof.
My treasures, at that time, were: a sack of pearls I’d found piecemeal on the beaches of Spikemuth, two large gold nuggets that I would sell eventually, ten smaller gold nuggets that I would mostly not sell (you know what never wears out? Hairties made of gold!), a cool black and white marble the size of a large gumball that helped me calm down when it was bedtime, the man’s rainbow-marble bracelet, Stern and Lina, a pretty egg-shaped rock I liked to keep in my pocket on days I could feel were going to be Bad, and three sea-shell shaped bells I’d had fun making.
My flipcoin coin— I still have that in my wallet. I got it at the Leroy Brown Memorial Angler Museum, with Nurse Beth. That was the last thing I’d planned in Spikemuth, before I left for my Journey. I would still have the shirt I got then, too, but… The Night of a Million Billion Joltiks took many casualties.
Oh, and the woman got into a screaming row with me, culminating in her trading me her pokemon for drinking money and telling me if I ever came back to her house, she’d kill me herself. That she should’ve killed me when I was born, and saved herself the hassle of being my mother.
That it was my fault the man died. That I was responsible for his liver failure, for her being blacklisted from so many bars in town, for everything.
I agreed; and I told her that if I ever came back to my house with her still in it alive, I’d be fixing that. And then I left.
The woman who was my mother here drank herself to death four months later.
Tequila Sunset in Spikemuth...
And— done. I still use my Trainer bag for perishable grocery shopping, buying fairy liquid for the bathrooms and that sort of thing. I still use my Farfetch’d umbrella, too, but it’s not raining.
Bramblin and Brambleghast appeared as soon as Galarian Tangela and Tangrowth returned to the moorlands up north— not quite to the Cliffs, but up that way. They have a third evolution in Brambleghoast, a goaty little asshole that roams the moorlands.
There’s Galarian Lileep and Craydily up that way too, which never actually died out here. They were called something else, and they didn’t really get noticed until we started restoring the wetland and riparian; but they’re fuzzy, like moss. They’re native to the moors and cliffs going up to Circhester.
In the expanding Auld Woods, there’s Paras and Parasect with round red mushroom caps with little white scuffs on them; and Cottonee directly descended from Lina. She’s growing happily up high enough the autumn winds can always scatter her seeds well, and she picked her final resting spot herself. I go visit her on Tricks and Treats night, right before the seasons turn for winter. Resting under her branches is really nice for a night, and I know I’ll never have a problem— she won’t allow it.
There’s the Eldegoss in the boglands now— and I can spin Eldgegoss fluff into workable yarn. Apparently that’s a rare skill; or it was, before I mentioned how it used to be what Spikemuth was known for, when it came to fabric— and then the Weaver’s Guild got schools and new members and so on, asking, begging, please come teach us your skills, and they did!
I helped re-establish a fiber festival, y’know? People get used to ‘the way things are’ and forget about ‘the way things could be’. I had the benefit of the memory of every state fair and ren faire and music festival and art festival and on, and on, and on… People and Pokemonlike showing off their skills! There’s more to life than Battle!
I’m a Gym Leader! I’m a punk! I know there is more to life than just what I do for work!
Roselia appeared next, migrating in from the rest of Galar because I guess the birds told them about how much better Spikemuth was now. There’s no keeping Hoppip and their line out of a wild area, they travel by wind and particularly love settling on genuinely barren, lifeless dirt. Being around long enough turns that barren dirt into soil that can support life, and then it’s off to the races with everything else.
Grass types bring Bug types; Bugs bring Flying types. Keep those three circulating long enough, and everything else will come back too.
I love those foul tempered little thornball Tangela and Tangrowth. They’re tough, hardy little thornbushes, with bright purple flowers in the spring and sticky seeds that get absolutely everywhere. Tangela look like little thorny brown shrubs, with ponytatails like a toddler with not enough hair for the style; while Tangrowth get full bubble braid ponytatails of brambles and thorny vines, blooming purple in the spring.
I love them so much. The native Galarian ones are Dark-Grass, and I love them, I love them, they’re so beautiful. Chia of Turffield, once she realized I’m actually quite silly, learned to love them too. She crossbred one with an Indigo Tangela and now she’s got one that blooms roses every spring. They’re native Galarian tea-roses, though, not the eastern cabbage types. Very smelly, barely ornamental, with these gigantic thorns— anyway.
Re-establish a hunting range, and predators will show up. There are populations of Pokemon that survived up in the hills around Circhester and the depths of the Crown Tundra that had not returned until we made a place for them to return to.
Kreprowl are native cat Pokemon that didn’t really have any defense from the Perrserker that came over the sea so long ago. They’re pure Dark types, and hyperflexible— essentially, if a Kreprowl can fit their teeth through an opening, the rest of them can squiggle in there too. If one doesn’t want to let you hold it, you won’t be able to hold it; and there’s no door or cage that can keep them out. I think to combat this accidental supervillainy, nature bestowed every Kreprowl with a mixture of the sillies and the easily spookeds.
My Kreprowl is Squiggle. His favorite pose is the classic cat loaf, with his head twisted around like a Noctowl so he can sleep with his chin on his back. I don’t actually know how to evolve him. It might just take significantly longer than it does for a Meowth, which would track, what with the ‘super displaced by Perrserker and Meowth populations long ago’ and all. That’s almost certainly what it is, actually.
I’ve seen Lyntorynx. They’re fast, like Absol, but they bend and twist like ribbons in the hand of a rhythmic gymnast. They run through the crowns of forests, and scream like dying when it’s time for spring and mating and dens, and so on. They’re about the size of a Persian, and obviously cats— in the same way mountain lions and bobcats are obviously cats, but wildly different.
A Persian needs a run up and maybe a Quick Attack to one-jump a river in the winter.
Lyntorynx can just do that. I don’t know how to get a Lyntorynx from a Kreprowl, but Squiggle is having a great time training anyway— and is a vicious eight badge challenge anyway.
Predation comes in levels. What actually came back to the moors and the woods and the bog, the flood meadows and the water meadows put back under production so Spikemuth could have some self-sufficiency… Were Pokemon that eat Grass types. Which is most of them. Orbeetles migrated in with the wind and sudden greenspace, and everything eats Blipbugs— Butterfree too, and their Caterpie, Vikavolt near the standing stones in the moors and Grubbin everywhere. More specialized Bugs too, Bugs that don’t make it into the Battle Zone, Bugs with eggs carried by passing Flying Types in their stool and hatch and scamper off into the world…
Listen. Sometimes nature is gross.
Restoring the canals actually restored the water table itself, and the bogs stuck around for longer and longer each year, until they became permanent. There’s a splash of Lotad now, not just a pair of ornery Ludicolo dancing around menacingly in the mire. Skwovet, Pidove, Hoothoot; Nickit and Thievul, denning absolutely everywhere, as well as the Eevee; colonies of Seedot and Nuzleaf, and I’m sure there’s a Shiftry somewhere out there now, though I’ve never actually seen it… Minccino and Cinccino, Bunnelby, Chewtle and a massive ancient Drednaw we call Mama; and Joltik and Galvantula, though some regional variance is starting to crop up. Something about the Vikavolt on the moors is making the Galvantula drop their Bug type and gain Ground type.
Well, they are spiders—
Mudbray and Mudsdale, of course, but Debbie and Crustle too; Snover and Abomasnow that come down with the winter, and Krabby and Kingler that come up with the summer. There’s Wooper and Quagsire that migrated over from Paldea; Corphish and Crawdaunt that were always here; Nincada and Ninjask and Shedinja abounding; Pancham and Pangoro; Combe and Vespiquen; Stunky and Skuntank; Tympoles swishing in the deep puddles until summer, when they evolve en mass into Palpitoads. Well. They used to.
Fixing the bog and the water table made the ocean around Spikemuth richer too. There’s always been Magikarp— the smallest Magikarp in the world, because Leroy Brown really was something special; but now there’s Goldeen, and Remoraid, and Shellder, and Feebas, and Basculin of all three colors and Wishiwashi and Tentacool in the fall and Laura’s in the winter, and Staryu and Chinchou and Slowpokes and Buizel and Psyduck and a pod of Seel and Dewgong that come down from the Circhester Icefloes and nest here during their egg season— which is midwinter. There are Horsea that race alongside the Varoom during their practice runs, and Totodiles that get into dance contests with the Ludicolo. Finizen like to play in the wake of cargo ships as they move from Hulbury to Spikemuth and back again. There are Marill and Azumarill that migrate through every three years, and I just saw my Sharpedo teaching Matyke how to leap.
There’s a regional variant of Ekans and Arbok that are aquatic— Eleekans and Morarbok, Eleie and Moraay if you’re local— and you can bet I remembered a song from before and put it on PokeTube.
When an Eel bites your thigh and you bleed out and die—
Thatssss a-moooraaaaay—
There’s a secret beach in the moors where Carracosta nest; and secret spring-fed lakes in the bog where Ducklett and Swanna and Dewpider and Araquanid all chase each other around in mutual hunger. There’s a flock of Cramorant down by the docks that I check in on after that corruption and fraud case broke in the Spikemuth DNR, and I think I will push for some kind of signage for the Pyukumuku that keep washing up, this is getting out of hand.
Something chiseled directly into the wall, maybe, so no one steals the sign…? Maybe something like,
If you see me,
go on and yeet me
back into the sea, please.
Thank you!
And a carving of a Pyukumuku. Hm. Maybe a little comic showing the steps? I’ll present it in the next City Council Meeting. For now—
—back in you go little buddy! Hyaa!
I feel like there’s an unexplored link between the duality of self required for the performing art known as Pro Wrestling and Dark Types.
Yeah, it feels very Wrestlemania at my Gym during training hours? I don’t know how else to describe it. It’s not the Goon Show, though; or if it was, it’s only because of similar levels of care and control being exercised.
I can’t actually prove this, though. Pro Wrestling and regular wrestling and MMA are all the same thing here, so no one would understand my meaning. I think I’m right, though; and Dark-Fighting types are all heels, one way or another.
Dark typing isn’t known for pride like Dragon typing; and it’s not got quite the same kind of structure and hierarchy as Fighting. They don’t have the exact variability of Ground or the sturdiness of Rock. Dark types needed management— mostly, they needed the structure of games and rankings and arbitrary rules to know when something wasn’t serious.
Serious Dark-types don’t hold back. That’s part of why they’re so dangerous in the wild.
Here’s a thing I understood quickly but didn’t really understand until I traveled along those old Gingko Guild Routes because it was cheaper than plane tickets and boat hopping: Natures are nurtured. The most common natures in a wild-caught Dark-type are Naughty, Lonely, and of all things, Serious. Slow Dark-types in competitive sport are a totally different beast from slow Dark-types in the wild.
In sport, speed matters for points; in the wild, speed matters for eating.
Dark-types can take things seriously. In my experience, that’s when things become most dangerous.
I don’t actually know the ‘appropriate’ move lists of any Pokemon. For good reason, I swear!
I have a set of big binders that list every known Pokémon’s final evolution in picture form, and then a long list of all their ‘League Standard’ moves. I keep it for two reasons: one, my sponsored trainers like having the reminder handy, just in case. And two: the objective truth is pretty much any Pokemon can learn a variation of any move. Really. Their move lists are just useful for teaching them moves they can definitely learn in a reasonable training order.
Move Lists for specific pokemon are this world’s version of meta from before.
It’s not always ‘recommended’… but you know what’s fun? Hitting a Dragon with Iron Tail when by all accounts, that Pokemon you used ‘shouldn’t’ know it. Teaching an Eevee all the elemental variations of Bite, just to watch them enjoy harassing someone who thought they didn’t have any battle viability. Setting up Sandstorm and then throwing out a ‘Mon with Sand Rush, and your opponent not knowing that species could have Sand Rush.
Abilities can be trained and expressed in the normal way— but also, if a Pokemon really wants to do something, there is a way.
Oh, and showing the results of years of hard work? It’s delicious. Especially when it’s a surprise.
Have I gotten flak for it before? Yeah. I also have an archive’s worth of research fellows from Motostoke Technical, Naranja-Uva Academy, Nimbasa University, Avana College of Battle Design, and more— that appear each year to study my pokemon. So who’s really winning? SPIKEMUUUUUUTH—!
Another short training day, as I have to go down to Hulbury by ferry to pick up Bebe at the International Port today. I’ve aired her room and changed her bedsheets; I’ve got her favorite dinner cooking in the slow cooker; and I’ve got her gifts ready. Oh, I’m so excited.
I do an excited little dance on the docks and almost miss a Scraggy trying to tap my foot with hers. Ah, it’s the little office-mate— whoops! Careful!
Scraggy just about manages to not fall right in the water, but only almost. One of the four-badge Flapscals comes up under her and carries her up to plop her in my warm-toweled arms. She feels like a pile of wet, scaly laundry, and she’s shaking with terror.
Aw, baby girl—
“Well, that was scary, innit?” I said. I burritoed her, and tucked her against my side as I walked towards the showers. “That’s why the rules are rules, mush. We train in the training areas; we don’t run on the dock. Let’s get you washed off and warmed up, yeah?”
I wash off the Scraggy with the shower wand, and then myself. I’m glad I sprung for outdoor showers, even if I have to fish at least one or two Creeklaw Parties out every single week. They like being rained on, but if I teach them Rain Dance now, they’ll end up with Storm Warning: Rain as Swashbeaks and the water table can’t quite handle that yet. Gotta be firm on some things!
Rub the conditioner through my hair; use the scale-safe lotion on Scraggy and rub off the excess, rinse my hair, make sure her legs are dried off in all the wrinkles and sags, wring my own hair out and dry off, off season clothes on—
Black Trainer-joggers, sports bra and poofy pirate shirt, and I’ll wear my belt and hat when I go get Bebe. If I live in Pirate City, Galar, and I am the Gym Leader, I’m allowed to dress the part. I’d have a sword and pistol, but those are actually illegal outside of Legendary Lockdowns.
Off-season training is one of the Scheduled Sillies I added in after the first year, because everyone makes mistakes. Today’s training stations are Touch Their Feet, Chase-me Catch-me, Mirror Mirror, and the Knockdown Game. Each one actually trained different skills.
Touch Their Feet was exactly what it sounded like— a training drill I remembered from wrestling, proper ordinary Fighting-type wrestling. All any Pokemon had to do was use their paws, or in the Scraggy and Scrafty line’s case, tap their feet, on their opponent’s feet. For those with more tubular shaped bodies, they generally had to protect their heads or their tails from getting touched, and touch with their heads or tails. It’s agility and focus training, with a surprising amount of spatial reasoning. At higher levels, it’s how mixed Dark-Fighting types make friends; and at the highest level, it’s how they teach their babies the first delicate steps of whipping absolute arse.
Chase-me Catch-me was all about endurance and pressure. For twenty minutes, which is a long time, a designated second-or-final stage Mon is the Hunted. Their only job is to run away and avoid capture. They are being chased by no less than fifteen first or baby pokemon. The babies— the hunters— can use any move they can manage to catch the hunted. They mostly can’t manage any moves at all, particularly when it’s the Elites playing hunted.
Mirror Mirror seems like it would train similar things to Touch Their Feet; but actually, it’s heavily training sensorium and physical reasoning. All a pokemon has to do is the same thing their opposite was doing. It started very easy, with Simon-Says type of things; and then it got more difficult. Flapscal would do it for fun, to practice mating flight stuff; and Scrafty have an entire posturing ritual around the same behavior.
The Knockdown Game is very simple. In the fighting circle, a single pokemon will stand. One by one, each pokemon that wants to try will get two minutes to knock that standing pokemon on their back— without using any Moves. As soon as the standing pokemon is down, the one who knocked them down gets to stand in the middle. At the end of an hour, the last Pokemon standing is Strongest Today.
All the Pokemon know that, unless they physically can’t and they’ve tried, every hour when the chime goes off, they switch stations. Of all the games we play on and off season, the Knockdown Game is the one that is a permanent station. Every Dark-type I’ve ever trained loves the Knockdown Game. I have made adaptations of the Knockdown Game for in the water and in the air.
I have also seen my Blissey, Miss Chacha, take on all comers for a week straight before finally being declared Strongest, and that was before she went to med school. Everyone listens when Miss Chacha speaks, and she endowed her stand in, Miss Dinosaur, with a similar level of respect.
Miss Dinosaur is an Audino. Miss Dinosaur, and her crew of Audino, Theivul, Croagunk, and Pidove keep watch over the stations and if anyone is injured, she calls them out. Miss Dinosaur is so incomprehensibly ancient, she has to use mobility aids and have joint injections seasonally so she can get out of bed on her own and take herself to the toilet area too. Miss Dinosaur belonged to the now deceased Mrs. Tortinella, who I still can’t think of otherwise. She taught me proper business manners and was my very first secretary.
I did not hire that woman. She appeared in my Gym the first week I opened it with Miss Dinosaur, and asserted herself so strongly I had her on payroll by the end of the day.
If I didn’t know about Captain Basil Brown, I’d want to be Mrs. Tortinella when I turn old. I cannot, however, be both of these awesome old women at the same time when I turn old because that’s too much work.
As I draw the symbols for each game on the big chalk board, various pokemon who are just too good or too strong for the regular games perk up and move to their referee points. They’re strong enough to end things if it turns into a fight. It’s a very respected position during Training.
There isn’t actually a hierarchy, even if it seems that way. There’s a reason Dark-Dragons are so ‘scary’; their lack of hierarchy is part of the reason why. Getting one’s respect isn’t as simple as beating them in a fight.
Anyway: the young and the weak get to train first, with their elder and stronger family keeping watch for when things go too far. Pokemon recovering from injuries or in retraining are under the supervision of Miss Dinosaur and the Medics. When the young and weak ones are tired out, it’s their turn, under the fierce gaze of the strongest. The strongest? They train with me directly; and if I’m not available, they train with each other, or they offer lessons to whoever wants to learn from them.
We are all in the Dark together…
I stand as patiently as I can while the international ferry from Kalos docks. I’m glad I changed into the black jeggings, although maybe the vest was too much for the summer heat already— there she is!
I raise my hand and wave. Bebe sees me, her face screws up and— she breaks into a sprint.
I catch her when she lunges for me, of course. She’s taller, and she’s got a bit of a tan; her hair has sunbleached blonder. There’s a Comfey curled around her head like a crown.
Hugging her feels like home.
If I were any prouder and happier, I’d burst. Into tears, probably.
Bebe Artoria Trewyn Cardinal Pendragon spends the entire ride back to Spikemuth curled up under my arm. Her fingers hurt, a little, as they dig into my hip. If it wouldn’t embarrass her terribly, I’d pick her up and carry her home; but it would, so I don’t.
We get home and everyone— and I mean everyone— greets us happily. That’s exactly what coming home should be.
Bebe unclings just enough to wave and smile back. She’s gotten less shy while she was away. I’m so proud of her; and I miss the ache of her clinging.
“Leader Audrey, Trainer Bebe! Happy you’re back!” Called a man.
“Bebe, Bebe, are you going to be in the Lumiose Conference—” A young Reporter with a Spinda in a baby-carrier called as we sailed along in the gondola.
Bebe grinned, and shouted back “—In it? I’ll win it!”
The Reporter let out a whoop echoed by our Gondolier.
Back at the Gym Bebe grinned and waved at the Receptionists, Kermit and Bert and Ernie, Hilda and Ravio; she hugged Siri and tried to play it off. Siri was having none of it, and left a big black smooch on her flustered forehead. Comfey-crown giggled the whole rest of the way home.
Deedee, at home, shrieked with delight when Bebe walked in. She was so happy to see her friend-child again; and doubly happy that I’d remembered all our favorite flavors of grilled sausage from Hulbury. Slick scrubbed Bebe’s face with her chin and the side of her head; Stern gave Bebe a firm nod; Premium Rush tugged on one of Bebe’s ears. There would be many, many other Pokemon equally delighted to see my baby Bebe again, back from Kalos, but they had their own things to do out and about and weren’t, y’know, here.
“So— do you want to go out and greet everyone, or take a nap before dinner?” I asked.
“Hm… I’ll have a shower, actually, and then I’ll say hello,” Bebe said.
“Alright— need help with your luggage?” I asked.
“Deedee already grabbed it,” Bebe smiled.
I grinned. “Did you have fun?”
“Yeah,” she said, grinning back.
“Gonna do some scouting on Dianthus at Worlds?” I grinned wider.
Bebe didn’t answer, but she didn’t have to. We grinned at each other. Two mouths full of sharp teeth pulled wide.
“Let me know if you want some strategy tips, luv. But go shower, a Comfey only does so much for that on-the-road stink—” I said with a gentler smile.
“Her name is Flowercrown, and I know—“ Bebe shuddered. Ah. You could take the Fairy out of her comforts, or however it went.
“So shoo already?” I laughed.
“I’m going—” Bebe said, already starting to pound up the stairs.
“—and we’re having your favorite for dinner, unless you suddenly don’t like Klawf scampi with pasta?” I shout up after her, because she’s gotten fast.
“Yaaaaay!” Bebe called back.
Of course I went on a Pokemon journey, like so many others before and after me. It’s a rite of passage, a check and a balance. It’s a coming of age that forces you out of your comforts; you learn to fend for yourself, and care for others. Growing is the result, the process, and the goal.
It’s a truly ancient custom that spans the world, with different legends detailing why— and many people have dedicated their whole lives to understanding this social phenomenon. It’s a tradition close to universal— small out of the way places don’t push for it, having traditions of their own instead. Mostly isolated places, where the geography only let you explore if you had the right Pokemon. Even then, there were still things like the more ubiquitous journey.
The point of a journey is to grow and mature.
I think I actually grew and matured the most when I came home, back to Spikemuth. Then again, the freedom of the journey compared to a position as Gym Leader is a harsh contrast. I went on my journey when I turned ten; and I’d gotten to experience the wonders and joys and heartbreaks and horrors that came with it. It was tough; and I’d known it would be, prepared enough for it… but there’s some things you can never be ready for.
I could never be ready for the woman to kick me out. I wasn’t ready for the man to die. I wasn’t ready for what placing second at Wyndon would do to my reputation. I wasn’t ready to seek out my cousins, meet them; go to so many strange and beautiful places. No one is ready for a Mightyena to nearly kill them in the mountains.
There’s no way to prepare for that kind of thing.
My journey saw me traveling for longer than the average trainer, much further afield than most, through pathways that were, frankly, too dangerous for how old I’d been however it could be counted. I’d known to claim a lot of more rare types that I happened to know the location of, how to evolve, how to simply find— I recognized my Type on sight, even when I didn’t know anything else, and then I got enough Aura to do it reliably.
When I was in Hyrule, I knew to continue real martial training. Foreknowledge that wasn’t relevant for at least ten years, based on the other people of note in the world; and more foreknowledge, from everything else I’d ever seen.
My memories were capitalized on, and I could claim a truly powerful team with surprising depth. Some Pokemon I just knew to look for; and others, I just wasn’tafraid of. Pokemon are living creatures thatwant to be understood; creatures we can understand, and who can understand us! Living beings… Thank you, Doctor Who…
—For the night is dark, and rich in splendid mystery… Home to stars and moonlight, the cruelest battles, the most terrible harm… and the richest of splendors.
I tapped away at the keyboard. I know insanity’s supposed to be doin’ the same thing over and over like it’ll change, but that’s literally how every single move I’ve ever seen is trained, so.
Maybe I should send in a physical letter?
I leaned back in my desk chair and sighed. It’s funny. It took me a while to figure out how exactly this world was different from the ones I knew. Everything felt the same, y’know? Like, in my body. It took most of my journey in Galar to even start getting somewhere with Aura— and Pokemon weren’t weird so quickly…
It wasn’t until I got to Wyndon and actually saw my age group that I realized. I’d thought it odd that so many people weren’t there. I hadn’t realized that I was actually supposed to be someone else in this world.
I don’t have a younger brother.
I have a house that sometimes feels too big for just me and Bebe and our Pokemon, even though I know it isn’t. I inherited it from a time when entire extended families lived together— and honestly, the Zygardi houses up the way to the west, they’re just like this place too. Not so ornately appointed inside, but just as many rooms and gardens and so on. They don’t have a guest wing though.
That’s all me.
I have six floors above the ground floor, just for family, and that feels so empty, even though I can hear my Pokemon talking, even though I know where the family that wants to be around me is, and when they will be arriving. I still sometimes find myself searching for someone who just… isn’t there. Never will be. The man and the woman died, remember?
I sighed, and hit print on my letter, because if e-mail wasn’t getting the job done I’d mail it in on real paper. Damn. f*ck. Two copies; I’d send one to Priya Hammerlocke too, just to f*ck with her, and also she’d absolutely tell me immediately if I’d f*cked something up or missed something. I think my proposal for energy would totally work?
Ugh!
Stamp with my signet, sign it, fold it up when it’s dry, put it in the mailbox— done.
—I have a daughter I picked myself on something like a whim, and something like spite; and now I am a parent. I was in the PTA for a few years, while she was in school. I coached a little league of soccer— Footballers! Because she wanted to play football, and none of the coaches for hire wanted to bother with Elementary level.
…Even if you’re someone different, even if you don’t remember where the world says you came from, you still miss it. Every time I found a fault that couldn’t be wrangled with, in Unova, in Kalos, in Paldea and Alola and Hyrule, I was really just missing Spikemuth.
Everytime I reminisce about the beauty of Hyrule’s famous Castle Town, or long for the sunny beaches of Alola, or yearn for a Nimbasa bagel— actually, no, Nimbasa bagels really are superior, even though I’m pretty good at making them myself now. The water is different, I think.
—But those first two? Yeah, I’m actually talking about Spikemuth… on a clear day, if you climb or fly up to the bunker gardens, you can see Hammerlocke to the west. In August, Hulbury gets these giant sandbars that are so soft and warm, migratory Tirtouga, Lapras, and Squirtles all hatch there, and you can hear them calling when the wind changes at noon. And the sand bars are big enough for people to laze around on during the hols.
I missed the blue and black of marauding crews of Creeklaw and Flapscale, and their shanty-like dawn choruses. I missed having to add anemia supplements to my multivitamins because of all the blood-sucking fish in the water. I missed the Fulminous Ghost of Leroy Brown, the Six-Foot-Two Colossus of Crescent Bay; and I missed the marvel of the only bait he ever struck as a Magikarp, cast in bronze and kept gleaming by a thousand anglers in pilgrimage rubbing it for luck every day. I missed other people being proud of our tiny terror of the waves.
Dark Aura isn’t about doing, exactly. It’s about feeling.
Understanding someone else; what they’re feeling, and why. It’s difficult. Emotions always are.
…I do not have a little brother.
I do have a daughter.
She just came back from Kalos and I’m proud as hell of her. Astoria is delighted to be her Pokemon, like Arabella noticed she would be… Ah, and she’d learned Trick Room? Good for her. Flowercrown is so adorably happy, and the rest of her team— which rotates for this and that, I see she picked that up from me— a tiny pink Ribombee, a Mimikyu, Whimsicott, Azumarill, Galarian Rapidash, Wigglytuff, Tinkaton, Florges, Alcremie, Togekiss— damn, wild caught too, I can tell— and Clefable. On a slightly lower tier (in terms of battle) are Dedenne, Mawile, Kirlia, Carbink, Klefki, and Morgrem, but those are her Contestants, so that makes sense.
They were all very well cared for and very well socialized— friendly, polite, and very delighted to be in Bebe’s egg-den. If only the night could have continued that way until morning.
Alas.
