Spoon: 3.5 Soup (Patreon)

Early chapter? Early chapter.

Soup 3.5

Artoria

Petalburg Woods, Hoenn Region

A fourth mankey went down to my swing. They’d mostly recovered from Jeanne’s Flash by now and were watching each other as best they could, but any form of teamwork beyond basic swarm tactics was far from their strong suit. I had little trouble teleporting behind the one farthest back, striking before any of them could give vocal warning. Even so, I was forced to take a light graze on the arm in retaliation before I could teleport away.

I winced, more from the shame of being struck at all than any real pain. These were not true opponents. My lord would be displeased.

No, I knew he would not be. He often said I was my biggest critic, but I couldn’t help but feel that anything short of a flawless victory was a failing on my part. A knight should be an unconquerable bastion of strength and this was evidence that I must work even harder.

I redoubled my efforts, flipping the tables and turning what had once been a chase to a guarded encampment. They were huddled like a herd of donphan, back to back to back so as to present no openings. What had once been anger and aggression quickly began to make way for justified caution and fear.

Good. They spat in my lord’s generosity and were no better than brigands in my eyes. As a knight, it was my sword duty to show them the error of their ways.

I briefly reached out with my mind to check on the rest of my team.

Jeanne was doing well in her own right, as expected of my sworn sister. She could be frustrating at times, what with her inexplicable oral fixation and the constant praising of the sun, but she was a reliable friend and ally. She had taken our lord’s words to heart and was running backwards in a fighting retreat that showed off her Cotton Spores to best effect.

Father once told me that Encore was a move best used on self-aggrandizing blowhards. Mother scolded him and said he was being too harsh. It worked on anyone with an external sense of validation, but most people had that to a degree according to her. I supposed I did as well; I valued my lord’s approval above all else after all…

Was Jeanne a blowhard? She did enjoy being the center of attention, perhaps a bit too much, but I wouldn’t have described her so negatively.

And yet…

I shook my head and dodged out of the way of a set of sloppy Fury Swipes. I turned the sidestep into a punishing thrust that launched the offender back in line with its brethren. I snorted in contempt. Berserkers and wanton idiots who knew nothing beyond their stomachs.

It was not my place to chide my sister so, at least not without raising the matter with our lord. Yes, that’s what I’d do, as soon as I was through dealing with these louts.

I teleported behind another mankey and struck him down, this time ready with a Protect to deflect any counterattacks from his fellows. As I did so, my mind slipped gently into my lord’s, only to find him locked blade to claw with a solitary mankey. How had that one escaped my notice? Why had he not joined his brethren in attacking me?

I chided myself for the oversight. I’d been so distracted that I forced my lord to draw his blade in his own defense. Pokemon were to protect trainers. Trainers were to push pokemon to new heights. It was not a matter of whether he could or could not defend himself; the simple fact that he had to at all was another failing on my part.

“I want you,” I heard my lord say to the ruddy brown furball, catching me by surprise.

Him?

A mankey?

Why?

Far be it for me to question my lord, he was wiser than I, but… What did he see in these fools save anger and greed?

Then again… I had been mistaken about Jeanne as well. To my shame, I dismissed her initially as just an empty-headed diva. She proved me wrong with her dedication and passion, improving to be my rival faster than I could have ever suspected.

Resigning myself to yet another obnoxiously boisterous teammate, I turned back to the rabble before me. I would trust my lord’s judgment; he’d never let me down before.

X

Aaron Fulan

Petalburg Woods, Hoenn Region

I stared down my diminutive opponent with respect in my eyes. This one was different. It had shown tactical skill and cunning, using its brethren to leave their ultimate prize vulnerable. It was not the biggest, and likely not the strongest, but it impressed me in its own way.

We engaged in this standoff for not even ten seconds before it became impatient; it was still a mankey. It lunged with a screeching battle cry, claws extended and glowing white. Fury Swipes.

I countered with a reinforced strike to the torso. It was hard to be more precise with an opponent this size, but that just meant I didn’t need to do much aiming to strike something important. With the weight difference between us, even a basic strike like this sent it sailing through the air, not hurt, its fighting type robustness saw to that, but also unable to win the clash of momentums.

Pokemon may be bullshit, but most of them had to obey some laws of physics.

Getting smacked out of the air did fuck-all to deter the mankey. If anything, it only seemed to stoke the flames of its wrath ever higher. Interestingly enough, this particular pig monkey did not fall into a berserk rage like its fellows. Instead, its rage burned cold, sharpening its focus into a visible aura of white around its body.

Or that was Focus Energy and I was in for a really shitty time.

I was right. The next time it lunged, its movements were more concentrated, deliberate in a way that they weren’t before. Rather than wild scratching, the mankey anticipated my counter and hooked its paw onto the wood of the bokken to swing towards my face, screeching bloody murder all the while.

“Holy fuck!” I cried as panic momentarily overrode my training.

“MANKEY!” It screeched back, eyes zeroed in on the prize. It grabbed my hair and tried to climb over to get at the bag I was wearing, but I managed to yank it off my head by the scruff of its neck.

I winced as I felt the little fucker’s claws take chunks out of my hair. Its feet left bloody rivets on my face and I knew I’d have to get it disinfected as soon as I was done clubbing this shit unconscious.

I swerved in one fluid motion and punted it away from me, an aura-enhanced kick sending it clear past the treeline. I’d keep track of it on the edge of my senses, but right now, I desperately wanted some breathing room. By rushing me, it prevented me from issuing any orders to my pokemon, not that Artoria needed any, but enough time had passed to snap Jeanne out of Encore.

“Jeanne,” I hollered. I wasn’t sure where she was, but that was fine; I didn’t need specifics. “Spread shot! Shock Wave!”

“Flaaff!” I heard her shout, followed by the crackle and zap of electricity and the near simultaneous wail of pain from the four mankey. She had this. Now that she wasn’t bound by Encore, there wasn’t a whole lot the pig monkey pokemon could do to take her down, not without being shocked and paralyzed with every attempt at an attack.

In the games, physical moves worked fine on electric types. In reality, no one approached an irate electric pokemon without good insulation.

I turned to Artoria and briefly saw the remaining mankey huddled in a defensive circle as she darted around them. They’d gone full prey-mode now, as though guarding themselves from an angry seviper. On the plus side, they’d live. On the down side, I doubted they’d forget the beating she’d give them anytime soon.

That was as far as I got before the tactical mankey leapt from behind. The old me, despite decades of HEMA and kendo experience, would never have reacted in time to an attack towards the back like this. Now, even as a thirteen year old child, I wasn’t caught off guard thanks to my newfound psychic abilities. Simply being aware of nearby minds removed most of my blindspots.

I whirled, interposing my bokken between me and the pig monkey. It cried its own name before trying to hook itself towards my face again, but I was ready this time. I jerked rapidly to the side, reorienting my sword and spiking much of its forward momentum down to the ground.

As it landed, I gave it another punt, though much lighter this time.

“Mankey!” it yelled as it flew a good eight feet, more in indignant rage than any actual pain. Fighting types were fucking bullshit. Kicks like that to anyone my age would have cracked a rib at least.

It leapt forward again, renewing our dance of claws and sword.

One hit wouldn’t bring it down. Singular strikes from a boy my age, aura-enhanced or not, simply lacked the oomph to convince it that I wasn’t worth fucking with. Rage-induced adrenaline was a hell of a drug and it’d shrug off anything I could dish out. This was very much a battle of attrition and I didn’t like my chances in a stamina contest with a pokemon.

I smacked the damn thing away for what felt like the hundredth time and reached behind me to my pack. As it righted itself and leapt for me again, I yanked hard on the cord that kept my sleeping bag fastened. I hurled it towards the mankey and watched as the bag unrolled itself mid-flight, acting as an impromptu net.

Wasting no time, I brought my bokken down in a downward stroke towards the screeching lump. Twice. Thrice.

“MANKEY!!!” it screeched, somehow getting louder and angrier. I groaned inwardly as I heard the sound of tearing fabrics. I’d definitely need that replaced soon…

With a final ripping noise, it launched itself from a newly formed hole in my sleeping bag towards my face.

“Aah! Fuck!” I swore as I startled back.

“MANKEY!” it roared, probably cursing me out to Distortion.

I raised my arm over my face and the little fucker bit down on it, drawing blood and another scream from me. This close, I couldn’t do much except batter it with the pommel of my bokken and try to shake it free. Everything I’d done would’ve been a hanshoku, a foul, in kendo, but I really didn’t give a damn at the moment.

Arm throbbing, I finally managed to whip it off me. It made no attempt to go for my backpack, so I assumed rage had finally blinded it. It just wanted to hurt me now and the feeling was very much mutual.

‘Is it weird that I want this thing even more now?’ I wondered.

‘Yes, it very much is,’ Artoria drawled. My perspective shifted to hers for a moment. All of her mankey were down, as were Jeanne’s. ‘Please, allow me.’

‘No. Hold.’

‘He must be punished for laying his hands on you.’

‘Oh, it’s a he? Good to know. Keep Jeanne out of this too and just watch. Don’t interfere if I’m not about to die,’ I told her.

Was this wise? Not particularly, but I had my pride, damnit. I was tired. I couldn’t wield my bokken the way it was meant to be wielded anymore, my left arm just didn’t have the strength to leverage.

But so was the mankey. There was no denying that I’d gotten more licks in and he had been moving far more throughout the fight. He was just as exhausted as I was and as I returned its glare, we came to an understanding: His troupe lost, but that meant nothing. We’d settle things between us, as warriors.

‘But you are not a warrior, my lord. And I don’t think that savage qualifies either,’ came Artoria’s harsh critique.

‘Sush, let me have my chuuni moment,’ I grumbled back.

‘Very well… Please allow me to take the bag at least.’

I didn’t take my eyes off him as I shrugged off the backpack. Artoria teleported to my side and left in two flashes of light. I felt much lighter now. The hammerspace bag wasn’t exactly heavy, designed to negate the bulk of the weight of its contents as it was, but that little bit was enough to give me a bit of a second wind.

“Alright, shit-flinger. Let’s end this,” I said seriously. Was I trying to trash talk a mankey? Yes, yes I was. Judging by the narrowed eyes and short breaths, he understood me.

“Man. Mankey.”

“Don’t know. Don’t care. Now come on!”

“Man!”

I braced myself as our battle resumed. I pivoted out of the way of the enraged mankey and snatched up a stainless steel pan lid to use as a buckler in my left hand. I couldn’t swing my bokken at full strength anymore, but batting the little shit away seemed like a fair bet. Choking up on the hilt, I swapped to a more “sword and board” style, or as close to one as I could mimic under the circumstances.

“Mankey!” he roared.

“Yeah, well, you’re why my food is cold, you midget!” I roared back.

He jumped for my face, but I was able to bring my left hand in front, catching him on the concave pan lid and tossing him into the air. Taking the chance, I jabbed him in the stomach with the help of gravity before spiking the pint-sized fucker into the ground.

Stepping forward, I stomped down onto his tail, flipped the grip of my bokken, and stabbed him in the stomach.

“MAN!” he shrieked in pain. He thrashed and I felt claws dig through my jeans and into my leg, but I gritted my teeth and brought down my sword again and again until finally, with an exhausted gasp, he flopped onto the dirt. “Man… key…”

“You done?” I asked with a glower. “Yield?”

“Man.”

I never knew you could say so much with a single syllable. There was anger there, an ever-present part of his existence, but there was also respect, an implicit acknowledgement of his defeat.

“You’re my pokemon now.”

“Man,” he nodded. He bore his teeth, awfully long on such a little guy, and let out a squeaking chatter. “Mankey, mankey-man.”

“Kirlia!” Artoria frowned. She hefted her spoon in hand.

I got off him and picked her up. “Do I want to know what he said?”

‘He said you are “troupe-leader” now. He will follow you as long as you are stronger than him. Savage,’ she spat. ‘Why do you want this one?’

‘Because he’s impressively smart and disciplined for a mankey.’

‘For a mankey. That is not a high bar.’

‘Artoria…’

‘It’s true though,’ she huffed.

‘Actually, I have a feeling he’s got a better handle on tactics than you do,’ I pointed out. I shared with her my realizations throughout the fight. ‘Could you have done this?’

‘Well… No…’ she admitted, almost painfully. ‘But he used his own troupe as distractions. Is that the kind of pokemon we want in a team?’

‘You do raise a good point. Why don’t you ask him yourself? Translate for us if you don’t mind. Ask him what he wants out of this. Our team is a partnership and a family. You want to be a knight. Jeanne wants to be a star. Does he have a dream worth chasing? Worth leaving it all behind for? Ask him that.’

‘As you wish, my lord.’ She vanished from my hands and reappeared on the ground. She gestured to the mankey and began to chatter in pokespeak. “Kirlia kir. Lia.”

I left them to talk and dug in my backpack for a potion before tossing it towards Artoria. She knew how to apply it by now. I took another bottle for myself, this one diluted to the extreme so as to be usable on humans. It wasn’t nearly as effective, but it’d allow the cuts that mankey left me to heal in a few days without leaving any scars.

That thought made me marvel once again at the level of medicine this world had. A few days? That wouldn’t even be enough for these cuts to close and the pus to dry in my old life. “Not as effective on humans” still comfortably left these potions in the super-science territory.

“What about you, Jeanne?” I called. “Any cuts?”

Jeanne dutifully plodded her way to me and presented me her torso. Her rubbery skin had bite marks and scratches in it from before the Encore wore off and she couldn’t fully hold off the four mankey. She eyed me tearily and gestured to the bag. I sprayed her down and when she kept eyeing the bag, I realized what she wanted.

“Lunch first,” I told her. It was exactly like dealing with Tate and Liza. “Then you can have a treat.”

“Flaaf.”

“Yes, it’s cold. We’ll just have to deal with it.”

“Flaf,” she bleated, pouting. Seeing that she wasn’t going to get anywhere with me with the puppy eyes, she trotted over to her salad, still somehow undisturbed, and began to tuck in. As nonchalant as she seemed, I smiled when I saw her eyeing the unconscious mankey in case they woke up and wanted to keep picking a fight.

I had to spoil her lunch though. I let her grab another bite before taking the whole thing and dumping it into some tupperware. “Sorry, girl. Later. Let’s move away from this place first. Artoria, how’re things?”

‘He is… not as bad as I feared,’ she said, as though admitting it was shameful to her. ‘He is far more focused and driven than I expected of one of his kind. He is also reasonably intelligent and has a mind for cunning. He claims that they were not a true troupe and did not deserve his loyalty. They are exiles from different troupes, runts with nowhere to go. The biggest took over and claimed to lead but got them defeated in a headlong charge against a psychic type.’

‘Huh, that’s interesting. I didn’t know mankey kicked out their weakest members.’

I heard some chattering before she replied. ‘They do, but only when the situation is dire. There was apparently a war of some sort and they lost territory, which also meant a loss of food.’

‘I get it now, thanks. So will he follow me if I’m “troupe-leader” or whatever?’

‘He will. He saw that you provided medicine and food for Jeanne and saw how strong we became under your leadership, my lord.’

I walked around the camp, cleaning up after our lunch preparations. The foil packet of sausages, onions, and peppers needed to go in a tupperware container for later. The sleeping bag needed to be rolled up again. Lastly, some of the tools I used to start a fire and prep the ingredients hadn’t been put away.

‘What about a dream?’ I asked. Was it strange that I was looking for something so ambiguous? But if strength was all he wanted, I didn’t want him. ‘Why follow me? Besides that I won. I’d be willing to leave him behind if he likes it here better. What does he want that he can’t get in Petalburg Woods?’

“Kirlia, lia. Kirlia-kir. Lia,” she spoke to him in rapidfire pokespeak, translating what I said.

The mankey looked contemplative at that. It went still, quiet in a way I didn’t think was possible with a mankey. “Man… mankey?”

‘Does the goal have to be external?’ Artoria asked in his stead.

“It doesn’t,” I said. “Jeanne wants to be the best contest pokemon in Hoenn, to show that she’s the most beautiful, radiant ampharos ever. Artoria wants to beat her father in a duel. But you don’t need anything concrete like that. Tell me something you want to achieve by going on this journey with me. Tell me what we can work towards together.”

“Mankey. Man.”

‘To evolve… and… to control his anger, to be more than that. He wishes to be strong in mind as well as body. I… I may have been hasty in my judgment, my lord.’

‘Then I suppose you owe him an apology,’ I rebuked my starter gently. “That’s fine. Mastering yourself is a worthy goal. In fact, I suspect that it’s one you need to hit your third stage.”

“Man?”

‘He said mankey only evolve to primeape.’

“You’d think so, but that’s not true. Primeape can evolve into a third pokemon called annihilape. They’re unimaginably rare in the wild but they for sure exist; a few trainers have one, though most of those are from Kanto, Johto, or Paldea.”

“Mankey?” He stared at me with wide eyes now. An evolution he’d never known was possible, that certainly got his attention.

To be fair, I didn’t know much about it either. If I had to guess, games containing annihilape simply had not been released in my world. But since the world I now found myself in was not bound by development cycles and new product schedules, there were some pokemon that were never released.

Such as clodsire. Apparently, the Paldea had a regional variant of wooper that was a poison-ground type and evolved into more of the same. I didn’t exactly go searching for news from other regions, but they did cross my newsfeed occasionally.

Incredible.

I realized I hadn’t answered my prospective pokemon. A fighting-ghost type… Yeah, I could work with that… “Annihilape have existed for as long as primeape have existed,” I told him what I knew. “Since they’re so rare in the wild, I have to imagine that there is something that keeps primeape from evolving no matter how strong they get. It’s just a guess, but since annihilape gain a ghost type, I think it’s fair to say that the evolutionary roadblock is spiritual in nature.

“I don’t know, mankey. I don’t know much about your species, but I can find out. If you think mastering your anger is something you can only do by leaving Petalburg woods, I’ll take you. I’ll make you strong, physically and spiritually. And then, then we can see about how to make you an annihilape. What do you say?”

I held out a pokeball towards him. It was up to him in the end; I wouldn’t make this choice for him.

He looked at the ball, then at his downed troupe. Some were awake now, though none of them looked to be all that interested in restarting this fight or interfering in mankey’s choice.

Then one, the biggest of them, stood and huffed something before slinking back into the treeline. One by one, they began to follow.

“Last chance. If you want to stay, go join them.”

“Man,” he shook his head. There was a tinge of red in his aura, but also a whole lot more blue. Peace. He reached out and tapped the ball. “Mankey.”

The capture itself was anticlimactic. There was the telltale flash of light but the ball didn’t shake even once. I picked up my pack and began to walk south. With a flick of my wrist, I let him out again.

“Well, welcome to the family, mankey.”

“Man.”

“You need a name.”

“Mankey,” he said with a careless shrug.

“Kirlia, kir,” Artoria chided him.

The mankey stared at her, then at her spoon, then back at her, and sighed. “Man…”

I snorted. “Did you just establish a pecking order?”

‘I am your right hand. It is only natural for me to keep the others in line.’

“Right… Mankey, if you don’t care, I’m going to call you ‘Durvasa.’”

“Man?”

‘He wants to know what it means, my lord.’

“Durvasa was a rishi, or sage, but he was also known for being very short-tempered. Anger was something he struggled with all his life, as will you.”

“Mankey. Man-mankey.”

‘What a rude creature. He says it’s as good as any and that he will master himself no matter what so it doesn’t matter what you call him.’

“Cool, we’ve got a lot of work to do, but first, let’s get out of the forest. I need a new sleeping bag.”

I didn’t know what it said about my third pokemon that he seemed so inordinately smug about tearing a hole through my bedding, but I promised I’d train him into the ground. Perhaps Artoria could teach him some technique instead of mindless scratching?

And so, I led my knight, popstar, and sage through the forest in search of Oldale…

Author’s Note

Artoria’s knightly antics are cute from a third party perspective, but I think they’re tiring to read about from her perspective. She isn’t truly malicious, but she’s actively contemptuous of anyone who is either a) not on her team or in her “in-group,” or b) not “honorable” as she defines the word.

She is often compared to Artoria from F/SN for obvious reasons, but there is one huge distinction between the two: Shirou’s Artoria is one who already finished her journey. She’s already a mature, deeply thoughtful and remorseful person. Aaron’s Artoria is not that. She is closer to Artoria as she was when she trained to pull Caliburn, blindly following the virtues of knighthood with little regard for anything else.

Aaron’s Artoria is immature, narrow-minded, and selfishly dogmatic just as much as she is kind, loyal, earnest, and hard-working. She has a great many flaws and I hope that brief POV shift highlighted some of them.

Meet Durvasa, the Sage of Rage. The name is from Hindu mythology and literally means “hard to live with.” I mean the title jokingly, but also kinda not. Seriously, read his myth a bit. He’s basically the Hulk, but better dressed and more magical. He went around cursing people and gods, including Indra at one point, for what, lacking cultural context, seem like incredibly petty reasons.

He once depowered Indra because Indra’s elephant wouldn’t wear the garland of flowers Durvasa made for him. Another time, he separated Rukumi from her husband because she drank water without his permission. Her husband? Krishna. Yeah, that one. Though to be fair, he also blessed Krishna with partial invulnerability (think Achilles or Siegfried).

How could he do this?

He basically came about because Shiva and Brahma got into an argument. Shiva was so pissed that everyone except Parvati (his wife) were too terrified to be around him. Parvati said he’s impossible to live with (hence the name) and Shiva felt sorry for being a pissy asshat. He tore off his anger and put it in some pregnant lady (because he’s still a pissy asshat I guess). And out popped Durvasa, with all the bullshit power of Shiva and somehow even less self-control.

Perfect for a rage-monkey that’s eventually going to get so angry that it dies.