Spoon: 4.15 Fish (Patreon)

Aaron’s Pokemon

- Artoria (Kirlia)
- Jeanne (Flaaffy)
- Durvasa (Mankey)
- Pickled (Egg)
- Magellan (Chikorita)

Fish 4.15

Aaron Fulan
Rustboro City

The chat with my family went about well as could be expected. They were worried. Dad asked me if I was alright and said he could have Astro, his clefable, tutor Artoria on fae aura if I wanted. Mom gave me a lecture about safety, forest navigation, and how I could expand the range of my empathic senses so this didn’t happen again. Tate and Liza bragged about how they could lift dad’s car when working together now, but only for a second or two. I bragged that I could trade swords with a scyther, but also only for three or four seconds.

Which made me superior by two whole seconds, naturally. A big brother must keep up appearances.

The next morning, I got called down to the pokemon center’s mail room. There, I found a TM for Fire Punch waiting for me, alongside a note that simply read, “Don’t die.”

It was such a mom thing to do that it made me chuckle. It reminded me of the burn cream incident, when I found my drawers full of the stuff after burning myself trying to start a fire in trainer school.

Mom cared, in her own, laughably awkward way. She probably meant for me to have better options against bug types, if I ever needed to roast a scizor. Given that all three of my currently active team could learn the move, I was eager to use it as a way to introduce my team to an energy type they weren’t familiar with.

I took my team to the battlefields in the central quad. As was our custom, it was early morning but I was far from alone. This was a huge pokemon center and I was hardly the only one who rose with the dawn.

First things first, I wanted to get Magellan settled. I had an image in my mind of the kind of meganium he would be one day. I wanted him to be our utility bruiser, a pokemon who could take on a defensive role with moves like Light Screen, Reflect, and Leech Seed while also dishing out damage with Petal Blizzard, Earthquake, and Outrage.

His goal would be to use sweeping, area denial attacks to force enemies into a slugfest, a battle of attrition that best exploited the advantages of the grass type. And should he fall, he'd prepare the field for the team, helping us to maintain our offensive momentum. Given his large size and personality, I thought this type of “build” would be a good fit for him.

But that was a long way off. For now, I had to keep things simple so as to not exacerbate his injuries. To that end, my backpack was filled with puzzles and blocks I’d looted from the pokemon center’s nursery.

I released the oversized chikorita on a nearby bench so he could watch us. I looked down at him expectantly. “You're going to riot if I tell you to sit out, aren't you?”

The ornery dinosaur looked up at me like I was an idiot. “Chi.”

“Yeah, thought so. We can't do anything too strenuous, though. I’m going to teach you Protect from my TM, okay?”

“Chiko?”

“It’s a powerful but stamina-intensive defensive move that creates a force field around you. All my pokemon know it because using it at the right moment can turn the entire battle. And, since it doesn’t require you to physically move, you’re going to master it in the next few days.”

“Chi.” He nodded with a determined scowl.

I returned him into his pokeball, downloaded the TM, and set him to work. Digging around in my backpack, I set a Rubik’s cube in front of him. “You’re going to work on duration first. Get used to the feeling of keeping the shield up for as long as possible. Then, when you’re too tired to do that, use your vines to solve this. The goal is to adjust the cube until all six sides have only one color.”

“Chi-Chikorita?”

“Why?”

“Ko.”

“Your vines are great for, say, grabbing berries from trees, but I want them to be more dexterous. Control is just as important as raw power. If you think it’s so easy, solve it. Then we can move on to more challenging tasks.”

“Chikorita.”

I nodded. I knew that he’d take that as a personal challenge. I looked around at the rest of my team to find that same burning determination in their eyes. If nothing else, my team wasn’t lacking in motivation.

“Jeanne, we have five days until the contest so you and I will be working together. Hold off for a bit, okay?”

“Flaaf.”

“Artoria, I’m going to give you a choice: Do you want to pick up Fire Punch? Mom sent the TM over this morning. Or, do you want to meditate to get your Excali-Spoon perfected?”

‘I shall meditate, my lord. I would much prefer mastery in one task before moving on to the next,’ she said calmly. She wasn’t reacting to my silly names anymore, a true tragedy. I would have to find other ways to tease her. ‘Please don’t.’

So saying, she headed off to a corner to center herself. “Well, that leaves you, Durvasa. Would you like to learn Fire Punch? Or I can pull up a karate kata you can copy. Or maybe brush up on your reading more? You could also benefit from more practice at ranged combat.”

Durvasa grunted and began to scratch at the ground. First, “one,” then “two.” I smiled; despite his simmering rage, he was a fast learner. He wouldn’t be a calligrapher anytime soon, but I thought his writings looked about as neat as dad’s chicken scratch.

“Nice, so you want to learn Fire Punch and go through the katas at the same time? That’s doable. Try to keep your hands lit for as long as you can.”

Tasks doled out for the morning, I pulled Jeanne aside so I could work with her more directly. My little lamb was not so little anymore. I’d met her near Mauville, but she was quite a bit bigger than the little mareep I remembered. Much more muscled, too. Though she wasn’t as gung ho about battling as Artoria and Durvasa, no one could say she didn’t put in the hours.

I’d had some time to think about what I wanted to do for future contests. In Verdanturf, I was told by the judges that Jeanne did fine, but I was somewhat bland. I stood back and gave orders like, well, like a trainer. A coordinator’s style was a bit flashier than that. Considering the current Grand Coordinator was Wallace, who looked like he’d stepped out of a high fashion magazine, and Lisia, the next big thing, would be the poke-world’s equivalent of a popstar, I certainly understood what they were talking about.

And yet, seeing and being were two different things.

The truth was, I wasn’t a fashion model. I wasn’t hideous, but I lacked Wallace’s ethereal charisma or Lisia’s heart-stopping beauty. Nor was I a singer, thespian, or dancer. Hell, I didn’t think I could pull off Chaz’s pompous arrogance even. None of those things were me.

I was a swordsman. From as young as I was able to the very moment I died, I dedicated myself to the sword. And when I got a new chance at life, the first thing I did was beg mom for “Kantoan” kendo lessons, something she indulged with dad’s prodding. I lived and quite literally died by my sword, only to take up the art again.

So why couldn’t that be my performance? What was lacking about a swordsman’s dignity? So long as I could improve my swordsmanship, did I really care whether something was performative or not?

No, no I didn’t. So, perhaps not this contest, but… maybe in the future…

“You know, Jeanne?”

“Flaaf?”

“I wonder what would happen if I introduced Beat Saber to this world?”

“Flaaffy?”

“Show me your Electro Ball.”

“Flaaf,” she nodded.

It formed within a second, a sign of her increasing mastery. The ball spun swiftly, an imperfect copy of the Rasengan. Or perhaps, more perfect than Naruto had at the start? After all, Jeanne didn’t need to add an element to it. Either way, it lacked the density and merely dispersed rather than grind a target to dust. Still, not bad for a work in progress.

I slid into a familiar stance. Iaido, or battojutsu, was perhaps the most dramatized sword technique in fiction, but wasn’t I in a fictional world? Didn’t I have access to aura? What was keeping me from pulling all the fantasy nonsense I wanted from my ass?

If there was one thing I had absolute confidence in, it was my sword. I wouldn’t doubt myself now. What was it Artoria said? She would cleave mountains? Whether that was doable for a human or not, it sounded like a fine goal to aspire to, a very Aaron goal.

“Good, now toss it in the air.”

When she did so, I tracked it for a moment before lashing out. My sword, suffused with my aura to make up for its lack of an edge, became an azure flash in the air. It cleaved the Electro Ball perfectly in half, sending a shower of sparks along the arc of the blade.

“Flaaffy!” Jeanne cheered, tail thumping against the ground. “Flaaf?”

“Are we going to do this in the contest?”

“Flaaf.”

“Maybe? But not more than once.” I shook out my hand with a rueful smile. “I wasn’t sure how much feedback I’d get, but some of the shock carried through the sword. It is metal after all.”

“Flaaf,” she bleated in disappointment.

“Hey, don’t worry. It doesn’t hurt much, just a sting. Think of this as a proof of concept. One day, when I become good enough at this reinforcement stuff and you master a few songs, we’ll have a choreographed duel on stage, set to music and everything.”

“Flaaffy? Flaaf!”

“Good, let’s get to work. I know Mary Had a Little Lamb isn’t much, but it’s a start. We’ll work up from there, okay?”

And so, we practiced. Jeanne had no special talent when it came to music, but she did have dedication and stubbornness in spades. This was the sole tune she could play, but it was becoming smoother and clearer with each repetition.

Once she had the song down pat, we threw in elements from her old routine. Her wool held its charge at different frequencies, changing the tune from when she used Electro Ball to make her music. Some notes had to be struck with Cotton Spore instead of Electro Ball, and vice versa, but Jeanne simply accepted that as a coordination exercise.

We still used Electric Terrain, but it now served as more than a ground-bound spotlight. It was also our bass. As a flaaffy, her tail was much longer and more articulate than a mareep's. By storing the opposite charge in her tail bulb as the ground, she could make a droning, buzzing sound that changed with the bulb’s proximity to the ground.

As for me, I was taking a crash course in conducting. There were enough tutorials online that, hopefully, I wouldn’t look completely ridiculous by the time the contest rolled around. The intricacies of the profession flew far above my head, but I could pick up the basics well enough.

For example, there was no hard and fast rule about batons. Many preferred bare hands and so would I. The right hand was used to keep the flow of music steady while the left should remain still, not mirror the right. That way, the left hand could be used for emphasis or for cues to bring in new sections of the orchestra.

This wasn't an orchestra and there were no other sections of course, but Jeanne did have a tail. I could use my left hand to introduce the droning bass, and also teach her to control its volume, or power output, by following the elevation of my hand. It wasn’t perfect; I was so green that Magellan might bite me by accident, but damn if the look of pure delight on Jeanne didn’t make it all worthwhile.

My outfit would also need a makeover. I’d have to ditch the comfy cargo pants I preferred for traveling. The Mossdeep Gym’s logo needed to stay of course, but I would also be foregoing its uniform. Really, who decided on a hybrid of sweats and yi fu, anyway?

Instead, I made a note to buy myself a new outfit when I could find the time, maybe a pair of charcoal-gray slacks and a matching blazer with a royal-blue shirt for a splash of color. I did need to pay homage to my home, so I’d attach a pin with the gym’s emblem to my breast pocket. It didn’t exactly scream out my personality to the world like Lisia’s outfit, but it was better than what I wore in the previous contests. The least I could do was look professional.

X

We spent three days training like madmen. Artoria spent most of that time in an introspective mood, learning to harness the inner selfishness of the fae. It was not uncommon to find her staying up at night, staring up at the moon that called to her kind. And when she wasn’t doing that, she was teaching Durvasa to read.

My sage had taken to the literary arts in fits and starts. His lack of patience was something we’d already expected. His stubbornness easily outstripped his impatience however, and he forced himself to focus, expanding his mind as much as his body. Not only did he master Fire Punch to an acceptable level, he was able to write simple sentences to me. To reward him, I got him an e-reader of his own so I could download articles for him to read when we were on the road.

Halfway through the second day, Magellan completed his Rubik’s cube. He also got good enough to cut a deck of cards without spilling any with his vines.

As promised, I upped his training by introducing the team to a familiar exercise. Five aluminum cans were posted behind Magellan. He was to play goalie with Vine Whip while Durvasa tried to strike them down with Swift. It was a win-win: Durvasa could practice his accuracy with his sole ranged attack. Magellan could get in some valuable practice without having to move.

Then, three days after I arrived in Rustboro and two days before the contest, Lisia and Chaz reached Rustboro. They were able to grab rooms at the pokemon center I was staying in, something that turned out to be a mixed blessing.

“Do you do this every morning, Aaron?” I heard Lisia behind me as Artoria and I bowed to each other. She’d been kind enough to wait for us to finish our current set.

We were in one corner of the quad, practicing the gohon-me, the fifth of seven orthodox kendo kata that pit tachi against tachi. We’d been up for an hour and a half already and had been going through the fifth for almost as long. It was good to dedicate a day to a single kata on occasion to lock it into our memories.

Interestingly enough, the Kantoan kendo I learned from dad’s contact in Mossdeep used almost the same katas I remembered learning in my past life. There were subtle differences, but the similarities were somewhat disappointing. I’d hoped that with far more dangerous fauna and the provable existence of aura, the sword arts of this world would be more advanced. The similarities told me that kendo had largely been relegated to a ceremonial sport, much as in my past life.

If I wanted to become a true anime swordsman, with all the ridiculousness that implied, I’d have to figure things out on my own. It was a goal of mine, one I had a feeling would come naturally as I helped my team achieve their own dreams.

I turned to Lisia with a smile. She had seemingly made fast friends with Jeanne; my lamb was leaning into her hand, begging for headpats. Durvasa sat a ways off, reading a Petalburg wilderness guide, while Magellan eyed us with intense envy. Not being able to move was driving the poor dino spare.

All around Lisia were four pokemon, hers presumably. Ali the swablu was a given. He perched atop his mistress’ head like a fluffy hat and softly trilled a soothing song. On her lap, competing for her headpats with Jeanne, was a clamperl that seemed cheerful despite being out of water. A ducklett sat opposite Jeanne, pruning its feathers as it looked at us with detached interest. Finally, a slugma bubbled on the ground by her feet, close enough to warm her feet but far enough to not scorch her without having to leash its own heat.

I walked over to my bag and pulled out two towels before tossing one to Artoria. “Every morning. Thanks for waiting, by the way. I appreciate you not cutting in mid-practice.”

She shook her head in denial, her sea-green tresses bouncing merrily. “No, I should be the one thank you for letting us watch. That was incredible! I can tell you and Artoria practiced a ton!”

“We do. Are these your teammates?”

“Yup! Let me introduce you! You know Ali of course. This little gal on my lap is Pearl.”

“Not very creative.”

“Hey, she likes the name so it’s fine.”

“Of course, that’s the most important thing. How about the others? A ducklett and a slugma, huh?”

“Grace and Ruby. Grace is a sweetheart, even if she likes her space. Ruby would give me a hug every moment of every day if he could, but he’s not quite that good at controlling what he burns just yet. He’s the youngest on the team so he has time.”

“I’ll bet. How’d you find a clamperl though? I thought those lived far below the sea.”

“Uncle Wall sent her over. She’s the daughter of my uncle’s walrein and his gym trainer’s gorebyss. He’s been looking for a good trainer for a while and said she’s more interested in contests than battling so we were a perfect match!” she chirped happily.

She then proceeded to tell me about how she met Grace and Ruby as well. The slugma was definitely the odd one out. A swanna and gorebyss fit Lisia thematically and I could see the two becoming excellent contest pokemon, but I had no idea what she planned to do with a magcargo. They weren’t exactly known for “star power.”

Then again, if anyone could make it happen, it was this girl in front of me. Lisia Mikuri was a superstar in the making. And, like anyone else who stood atop the pokemon world, it would be because she was amazing, because she could bring out the best in her team, not merely because she happened to have the right pokemon. I looked forward to seeing her team’s growth.

“Where’s Chaz?” I asked. The two had arrived the night prior, just in time to catch my evening training. The prickly boy had been quite shocked when he saw me trying to stab Durvasa with a sword to home his Detect. He’d called me an uncouth boor and hadn’t spoken to me since.

“Ehehe, he doesn’t usually wake up until ten.”

I struggled to understand. I felt my respect for the boy dropping already. “How? How does he find the time to travel and train if he doesn’t wake up early? He’s losing a good four hours of daylight.”

“We… don’t? We took a helicopter over Mt. Chimney, Aaron.”

“You’re kidding. Why?”

“Hey, some of us don’t like walking for eight hours a day,” she huffed.

“Fine, but I still think he should wake up early enough to at least train his machop.”

“He practices his routine in the afternoon.”

That didn’t feel right. Many pokemon lived for battle. Or if not, then self-improvement of some sort. They were naturally competitive, at least in their youth. The idea that Chaz would spend most of his day not training seemed insane, half-hearted, like he wasn’t truly serious about being a trainer.

‘I’m not pushing you all too hard, am I?’ I asked Artoria, feeling a little self-conscious. Was I the weird one? Was I the one who was being unreasonable?

‘Of course not, my lord. Do you believe any of us would really sit still for most of a day?’

‘No, I guess not.’

‘It helps that not all of our training sessions require physical exertion. I meditate, as does Duravasa. We read. Jeanne practices music.’

‘That’s true. I guess it feels weird to hear that my so-called rival in the contest circuit doesn’t train as hard.’

She sniffed at that. ‘He is hardly a rival. Lisia is far worthier of that title, as was Onale the bard.’

I was brought out of our conversation by Lisia waving a hand over my face. “Hello~ Aaron? Are you and Artoria having a private conversation again?”

“Ah, sorry,” I said. “I was just wondering if other people only trained once per day like Chaz. He also seemed pretty upset when he saw me swing at Durvasa yesterday.”

“I train every morning and evening. And I’ve seen Uncle Wall’s elite team train too. They hit each other way harder than you hit Durvasa. I mean, yeah, he’s not evolved yet, but pokemon are tough,” she shrugged. “I’m not bothered by your methods if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Okay, because I remember mom’s elite team as well. So maybe it’s just a cultural difference.”

“Probably? Are you ready for the contest?”

“I am. I still need to buy a suit though. I haven’t had time yet, what with making some last minute edits to our routine and our regular training.”

Her eyes sparkled at that. She grabbed me by the arm and shot to her feet. “Yes! We can grab lunch and then tour the city. Oh, and get you a proper outfit of course.”

“Lisia, I’m not going to be your dress-up doll,” I said patiently.

“They all say that. Don’t worry, Aaron, I’m a style expert.”

“‘They?’ Who’s ‘they?’”

“Everyone. Who do you think does Uncle Wall’s hair?”

“His professional, highly qualified, laughably overpaid stylist.”

“Well, yes, but I also learned!”

“And what does that have to do with clothes?”

She looked at me like I was a filthy stray, picked up from the pouring rain out of the goodness of her heart and brought in from the cold. She placed a comforting hand on my shoulder. “Oh, Aaron, you have so much to learn.”

I looked into her eyes, so pure and sweet, and came to a single, undeniable conclusion: “I’m in danger.”

Author’s Note

Did you know meganium can learn Swords Dance? And Outrage? It’s terrible in competitive play, but it’s an option. Thankfully, I don’t have to care about competitive.

Yi fu is what you call a kung fu uniform, just like a karate uniform is called a gi. For whatever reason, Nintendo decided that Tate and Liza should wear a matching set.

Wallace does indeed have a walrein, though only in the PWT in gen5.

Hey. Hey, you. Yeah, you. Wanna hear something funny?

See, there were three mice brothers. One day, they were exploring an abandoned home and found a bottle. To their shock, a genie emerged from the bottle and said, “Whoever released me may have three wishes.”

The oldest mouse shook his head. He said, “We are brothers. We should each share one wish.”

So, the genie agreed. He looked at the oldest mouse. “Okay, what do you want?”

“I would like to be mighty and strong so I can protect my little brothers. Please make me an ox.”

“Granted.” And so, the oldest brother became an ox.

The second mouse stepped forward. He said, “Genie, I’ve always loved the sky. I know it’s dangerous, but I’ve always wanted to fly. Please make me a bird.”

“Granted.” And so, the middle brother became a bird.

The youngest mouse looked at the genie, then at himself. “I’m sorry, but I’m not sure what I want. I love being a mouse; we’re sneaky and fast, but my brothers are also right. Being strong, being able to fly, they’re both wonderful. Can I be all of them?”

The genie nods. “Your wish is my command.”

And so, the youngest mouse became a sausage.

Funny, right? No? I promise it’s funnier if you speak Korean.