Spoon: 4.4 Fish (Patreon)

Preface

I really should update LT, it's been a while, but I did promise Spoon incoming.

Fish 4.4

Aaron Fulan

Petalburg City

We showed up at the beach half an hour early to set up. In fact, we just ended our usual morning run there instead of running laps at the pokemon center. Jeanne and Durvasa looked around curiously as we wandered through the tents and booths being erected. They hadn’t ever visited the Slateport Flea Market so this was the first time they’d seen a popup event like this.

Julia had sounded a little confused about what to call it and I could see why. On one hand, it was like a town fair, with games, art stations, and food, but there was also a mercantile air to the place. I picked up a brochure at the information booth and found that this was something that happened every month, a way for the city to foster a sense of community while drawing in the traveling crowd.

The Mulaney’s Sporting Goods booth was allotted space at the junction where stores ended and sports began. Julia and David were setting up a tent and unloading merchandise from the back of a truck. To their left was an outdoor gym similar to ones found in Muscle Beach back in my old life. Already, I could see several people and pokemon working out there.

“Hey, good morning,” I called. “That’s an interesting setup. I didn't know Petalburg had something like this.”

“Morning,” the couple greeted back. Julia waved me over to a collapsible table so we could unfold the thing. “It’s pretty small compared to the one in Dewford. Those guys have an outdoor gym that covers an entire stretch of beach. They host weekly martial arts or lifting competitions there too.”

“Yeah, fun times. The gym there doesn’t always get involved, but a few generations of fighting type specialists in a town like that and I guess it bled over into the culture there,” Dave said, “and not just for pokemon either. There was a pretty neat sumo demonstration last I was there. You might want to check it out if you’re visiting for your badge.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I said.

We worked mostly in silence as the four of us added some extra hands. The Mulaneys had brought along frisbees, volleyballs, tension bands, and other, smaller bits of equipment that could easily be enjoyed on the beach. My pokemon and I spent most of the morning helping them out before the couple forced me into a store uniform and told me to go advertise.

“Go advertise” meant I was given a frisbee and told to play with my pokemon. I started a pickup game between myself, a few of the local boys, and our pokemon, making sure the logo was prominently visible. Durvasa and Artoria loved running in the sand for the additional resistance that it provided. Jeanne, not so much. My little diva hated getting grains of sand stuck in her fur and I had a feeling she’d pout until I spent a few hours brushing it all out tonight. Either that, or she’d sleep on my face with her sandy fur. One way or another, she’d make it my problem.

When too many people got involved for a single frisbee, I pointed stragglers towards the tent so they could get their own. Our little advertisement campaign worked. Before the morning got too hot, I was able to convince several people to visit the booth and pick up some toys of their own.

I returned at around ten-thirty in the morning to hand back the frisbee. Dave replaced it with a stack of flyers. “Go ahead and pass those out. Then feel free to go get lunch or check out the other booths,” he told me.

“Thanks. Any suggestions?”

“They’re holding sporting events all throughout the day, but I think the signup period for the volleyball tournament is already over.”

“That’s fine. I’m not a big fan of volleyball anyway and we’ve been running around all morning.”

“Then, if you’re hungry, look for Lou’s Smokehouse. He’s a friend of mine who moved from Melemele Island a few years back and started a traditional Alolan barbeque joint. Tell him I sent you and he might give you a discount.”

“Huh, thanks, that sounds interesting. What’s the difference between Alolan and Hoenn barbeque?”

“Alolan barbecue has a lot of pork and poultry whereas we prefer beef here. We both love seafood though thanks to our coastlines. They tend to rely heavily on steaming meats in satchels made of nanab berry leaves filled with herbs and dried berries and whatnot. Their preferred sauce also has a bit more sour tang and heat than normal because of a few tropical berries that grow more abundantly there.”

I nodded happily. It sounded like Alolan barbeque had some similarities to Hawaiian kalua pork from my old world. I had the privilege of eating the genuine article once and remembered enjoying it. “Sounds good. I’ll check it out, Dave. Thanks, for this and for all the training.”

“You’re all right, kid. Now get  out of here.”

I gave him an easygoing salute and headed off, my pokemon following in my wake.

X

He was right. Lou’s Smokehouse was amazing, though he admitted he wasn’t strictly traditional. He’d gotten the idea of combining Hoenn and Alolan traditions by smoking the satchels instead of steaming them in underground ovens. The result was a savory, smoky, pull-apart meat that dissolved in my mouth.

Even Jeanne got to try something new in the form of smoked mushrooms and seaweed salad, though she admittedly didn’t enjoy that nearly as much as the rest of us enjoyed our meat. I made it up to her with her favorite plant jerky.

“So, does anything catch your eyes?” I asked, speaking out loud for my two non-telepaths.

“Man-mankey,” Durvasa pointed out a bunch of people standing around a length of thick, sturdy rope.

“What is it?”

“Key.”

“Tug of war. It’s a game where people stand on opposite sides and try to pull the opposing team over the line. It’s supposed to be a contest of strength, but there is a bit of technique to it as well in the way you apply leverage. Want to check it out?”

“Mankey,” he nodded with an excited grin. Trust a fighting type to go in for the brawniest challenge he could find.

“Flaaf,” Jeanne bleated. She looked out over the warm sand with distaste. “Flaaffy…”

“Come on, Jeanne,” I coaxed. “You’re going to get sand in your fur just by sticking near the beach anyway. The wind will carry it over so just enjoy it. I’ll make sure you get a proper bath tonight, okay?”

“Flaaffy…”

“Kirlia-lia,” Artoria said, probably something chiding. Her spoon glowed and expanded with Reflect, rapidly gaining surface area. Before Jeanne could react, she swung her spoon and gently pressed the back of the bowl into her tummy before lifting her clear into the air.

“Flaaf!” she bleated in shock and betrayal as she hung like laundry off the back of Artoria’s spoon, her stubby legs too short to reach the ground.

“Kir,” Artoria trilled smugly. She stepped out into the sand so that Jeanne would have to bathe in it if she wanted to escape.

“Flaaf…”

‘I have acquired the whiner. I wish to compete as well,’ Artoria said in my mind, somehow managing to look prim and proper despite walking in sand dunes as high as her knees with a quasi-lamb slung over her shoulder.

‘You know she’s going to lick your mega stone again, right?’

‘Then she will know suffering.’

I shook my head in fond exasperation. Seeing the pouting looks Jeanne was sending me, I reached down and gave her a pat on the head. “How about we check out the live music stage after this?”

“Flaaf?”

“Yup, promise. We’ll do something you like too.”

“Flaaf. Flaaffy.”

The four of us walked, or hung, our way over to the organizer of the event, a man in a lifeguard outfit and a hydrodynamic float slung over his back. He looked us over and nodded. “Hey, you looking to join the tug of war?”

“We are,” I confirmed. “Any rules?”

“No pokemon heavier than fifty pounds. Other than that, anything else is fine. Oh, and no humans. This next one is just going to be for pokemon, with teams of ten on each side.”

“Huh, alright. I guess weight classes make some sense. Any restrictions on types? Can we use moves?”

He looked down at my kirlia. “Ehh, not officially, no. We don’t have many rules. This isn’t an official competition or anything, just for fun. Don’t attack anyone obviously. Actually, don’t do anything to interfere with your opponents, which includes lifting them up with Psychic, dousing them in powders, or something like that. Oh, and if your pokemon physically lets go of the rope for any reason, they’re out and need to step away. We don’t really have any other rules.”

“Sweet,” I looked down at my team. “Durvasa and Artoria, my mankey and kirlia, will be joining a team.”

He waved me over to a crowd of people and pokemon who were milling about. “Sure, man, just wait around there for a few minutes and make teams on your own.”

As we walked over, Jeanne waved her stubby arms up at me. “Flaaf.”

I rolled my eyes but picked her up anyway. Her fur was a bit warm for the weather but she felt nice to hug anyway. She clung to my torso like a koala and gave my cheek an affectionate lick. “You’re such a baby, you know that?”

“Flaaf,” she bleated smugly.

‘You spoil her, my lord,’ my starter accused.

‘I do, but she’s really soft. And cute. Besides, it’s not like she doesn’t try hard when she needs to.’

‘True… But it is my job to enforce discipline on this team.’

‘Is it, now?’

‘Of course. As your second-in-command, I must be the disciplinarian. My teammates would not work as hard otherwise.’

‘Which leaves me the leeway to spoil them rotten,’ I finished for her.

‘Which leaves you-No, that’s not what I’m saying!’

‘Heh, relax, today is a day of rest, remember? Do some light work and check out the sights before the gym battle tomorrow.’

‘Oh, very well, my lord.’

‘Stop acting like you’re allergic to fun. You’re not going to break out in hives if you let Jeanne relax for a day.’

‘We don’t know that, better not risk it,’ Artoria said with a sarcastic smirk. Truly, my little knight picked up the worst sorts of habits.

Five minutes later, we had our team. I stood on the sidelines with Jeanne in my arms as we watched Durvasa tie their end of the rope to a geodude. Yes, that was allowed. The geodude had to be weighed, but the not-so-little pebble came in at a chonky forty-nine pounds. She, female according to her trainer, slammed her arms into the sand and acted as our primary anchor. My own pokemon moved to the front of the line, nearest to the divider.

There was a bit of confusion over a kirlia willing to compete in physical exercise, next to a mankey at that, but the other team shrugged it off as a free win. They were the ones who insisted she stand up front though, just so she’d be more obvious if she started glowing blue or something.

I rolled my eyes; people were so competitive. Unfortunately, my two muscleheads weren’t excluded from that. They got sucked into the competition more than any other pokemon and I knew for a fact Artoria intended to use her psychic power.

‘It’s not cheating,’ she sniffed. ‘I’m still pulling against them. I just happen to reinforce my body instead of hampering my opponents. The judge did say anything was allowed as long as I didn’t influence my opponents.’

‘Yeah, they probably designed the competition for stuff like that. Somehow, I don’t think they’re quite ready for you, though.’

“Okay, let’s get started,” the lifeguard-turned-emcee called. “For bragging rights in the peewee division, are we ready? Set… Go!”

The opposite team took the initial lead thanks to a croagunk that literally kicked off the match with an explosive leap. Though Artoria was tugged forward a little, her footing was sure and their anchor geodude more than up to the task of acting as a counterweight. The real threat on the other team was an ambipom who had decided to act as their anchor, digging all four limbs into the dirt while grabbing and pulling with both tails.

The two teams went back and forth as their strength waxed and waned. Then, the ambipom’s tail-hands glowed with a subtle, white light. With a single flex, it dragged the entire team forward four steps, almost dragging Artoria across the line.

“Is that Iron Tail?” I heard a voice call it out. He was a kid about my age in sky-blue swimming trunks. “That’s not fair!”

“It is,” the ambipom’s trainer yelled back. “He’s still pulling, isn’t he?”

“Yeah, well, kecleon, use Rock Tomb to make footholds for your team!”

“That’s so not fair!”

“So’s using Iron Tail, you jerk!”

The competition admittedly got a lot more interesting after that. To be fair, the emcee did say anything was fine so long as you didn’t interfere with your opponent. He stood back with an amused smile on his face as people started getting creative.

Then, he brought the megaphone to his lips. “Red team’s croagunk is out! You cannot let go of the rope!”

“Huh, clever rule, keeps most pokemon from using their best moves,” I muttered. Seconds later, an undersized nuzleaf was eliminated when it tripped over one of the created footholds and let go of the rope.

‘Go nuts, Artoria. We both know this is what you were waiting for.’

‘I shall,’ she sent back with an eager, downright bloodthirsty grin. It was subtle, but I was accustomed to sensing psychic energy by now. The meditite on the other team similarly narrowed his eyes at Artoria. Then, her emotional aura flared white with determination before she began to pull in earnest.

The meditite on the opposing team responded in equal measure, his body flaring blue. For teams made on the spot, it was an unexpectedly close game.

One of the primary lessons taught to psychics at the Mossdeep Gym was that subtlety was key. Flashy lights, rising temperatures, and sudden pressure could be impactful and intimidating, but mom taught every one of her pupils that they were also wastes of energy. Hell, mom was best known for soundless, lightless teleportation, and the whole “Oracle of Mossdeep” stuff. Control was a psychic’s best friend. Discipline was the hallmark of power. True skill was found in the silence, not the noise.

Naturally, Artoria, who learned at the lap of Alice, a gardevoir who herself exemplified the subtler aspects of psychic combat, internalized that lesson growing up. It was also one I’d reinforced again and again. I had her practice extending the reach of her spoon with Reflect and Light Screen for hours at a time until energy economy was second nature to her. I had her practicing Mana Burst to expend all her power in a single, decisive moment and not an instant before.

Which was to say, unless you could directly feel psychic aura or happened to be an empath, Artoria looked more or less the same whether she was using her power or not. To all who were watching, the meditite glowed blue with exertion, but other than a subtle shine around her eyes that was all but invisible in the sun, Artoria looked like she was tugging on the rope normally.

“Kirlia!” she yelled as she focused psychic aura into her feet. She allowed herself to be pulled forward so she could brace against the premade footholds.

“Mankey!” Durvasa responded. As far as he was concerned, Artoria was troupe-leader.

“Kir. Li. Aa!”

Then, at her signal, they pulled back. Artoria launched herself with an all-out Mana Burst, turning the foothold beneath the sands into powder and sending a column of sand into the air as she flew into Durvasa who’d readied himself to catch her. It looked like a bomb had gone off on our end of the field.

The ambipom’s grip slipped at the sudden tension. It rolled forward with nothing to hold. Losing their anchor caused a rippling chain reaction that sent the rest of the opposing team, those who hadn’t been eliminated for letting go of the rope, to shoot clear into the air and past the divider.

The emcee blew his whistle, letting out a shrill bark that ended the game. “And the blue team is victorious! That’s a hell of a mankey you got there, man,” he said to me with a hearty clap on the shoulder.

I blinked uncomprehendingly. “Huh?”

“That mankey, he’s your pokemon, right? And the kirlia? The little fella yanked her clear off her feet.”

I caught onto what he was talking about pretty quickly. He thought Durvasa pulled hard enough to destabilize everyone, and Artoria, being nearest, was flung into him. I quashed down a giggle as my two pokemon plodded back to me with proud grins. “Yeah, they’re mine.”

“Your mankey must have trained really hard to get that strong. What was it? Bulk Up? Had to be to output that much explosive power all at once.”

“Would you believe it was my kirlia that’s that strong?”

“What? No way, I know what Psychic looks like, my kid sis has a kirlia too, and she wasn’t using anything.” He crouched down and held out a fist for Durvasa to bump. “You’re a tough little guy.”

“Man? Mankey?” Durvasa barked in confusion. He shrugged and accepted the fist bump. “Man.”

I laughed as Artoria realized what he was saying. The face she made when she realized everyone thought Durvasa was the MVP and she’d just been dead weight made me bust out laughing all the harder.

‘It’s not funny, my lord!’ she said, stamping her feet into the sand.

‘Hahahaha, I mean… it kinda is.’

‘Please correct him. I refuse to be thought of as dead weight!’

‘Fine, fine.’ I coughed to get his attention. “It really was Artoria. My kirlia is pretty unusual and likes martial arts so she’s been practicing a move that gives her a lot of explosive power.”

He frowned in confusion as he looked at the dainty and admittedly frail-looking kirlia to the more traditional fighting pokemon. “Really? No way.”

“Yes way. And she’s pretty upset that people think she was dead weight.”

“Huh, sorry, little girl,” he said to her.

“Kir,” she sniffed, running to my side. She eyed him judgingly. “Kirlia.”

Beside her, Durvasa and Jeanne sniggered teasingly. They knew she’d kick their asses over training, she could be surprisingly petty when her pride was wounded, but they also didn’t mind. It wasn’t often the two of them got to laugh at her after all.

‘Not funny.’

‘Way funny. One of these days, you’ll see the humor in it.’

‘Hmph, even my lord is mocking me.’

‘Only because I love you.’

‘I would like to play a different game to prove my individual prowess.’

‘Really?’

‘Of course,’ she insisted. ‘I must salvage my dignity.’

‘Fine, but after checking out the live music. I did promise after all. And then we’ll see if the Mulaneys need anything else from us.’

‘Very well, my lord.’

X

Jeanne liked square dancing. Or, the closest equivalent I found in this world. A group of eight dancers stood on stage and stomped around in heavy boots that made clip-clopping sounds reminiscent of hooves to the beat. I wasn’t sure if it was the rapid-fire banjo strumming or the general festive mood, but Jeanne enjoyed herself immensely, even spinning around to mimic the performers.

I was starting to realize Jeanne didn’t have a preference for music. She enjoyed anything with a recognizable beat and melody, from Onale’s hurdy gurdy to this banjo or some of the rock bands I’d shown her. It made me want to research that tesla coil music more.

We stuck around for four songs, about fifteen minutes, before looking for a game to rebuild Artoria’s demolished pride. That Durvasa hadn’t stopped snickering behind her back wasn’t likely to do him any favors later.

We eventually found a carnival game that was set up like a soccer goal, where humans and human-sized pokemon could try to block shots. She left after setting the high score using her extended spoon like a lacrosse stick, though I was fairly sure the voucher for a parfait at a nearby cafe did as much to soothe her ego as her name on the scoreboard.

My starter’s sense of honor mollified by sweets, we headed back to Mulaney’s and helped them out for a few more hours before Dave and Julia released us from our obligations. Really, working for them for a day wasn’t so bad, just about the best part-time job I’d ever had since we mostly spent that time playing with people to advertise the store. Like in most other cases, I found people in this world to be nicer than the ones from my past.

I hadn’t bothered to check out the job boards for migrant trainers because my gym sponsorship was enough for living expenses, but maybe I’d give more of those requests a chance in the future. More than the money, I’d learned that there was a great deal of untapped potential in simply asking veterans for training.

The four of us walked along the beach as the sun began to set. The sandbar wasn’t as vast as the one in Slateport, but the sand was just as soft. I’d long since put away my shoes. The sand had yet to fully lose the heat of the sun so felt wonderfully toasty as it sifted between my toes.

“Durvasa, how are you feeling for the battle tomorrow?” I asked.

“Man!” he barked with excited waves of his arms. He danced along the dunes, shadow-boxing the air and performing a footwork routine Archie the hitmonchan had shown him. It looked crisp, sharp in a way that belied his relative inexperience. Had I seen it on a human, I would have guessed a few months of practice at least.

“Nice form, looks good” I complimented. “Just remember to keep your focus over anything, alright? Whatever Norman tries, don’t let it get to your head. Focus Energy is too important to lose just because you got a little angry.”

“Man-mankey.”

“And as for the two of you, the second badge might be a two on two depending on if Norman can spare a third pokemon for the day or not. Artoria, Jeanne, which one of you wants to battle?”

“Kir,” Artoria nodded, always eager. She knew Norman was one of the stronger gym leaders.

“Flaaf,” Jeanne bleated. Her tail flickered on and off as she hung off my shoulders. I took that to mean the equivalent of a shrug.

“Don’t care much, Jeanne?”

“Flaaffy.”

‘She wishes for me to have the chance as she participated in the contest in Oldale. Do you think we will see a vigoroth?’ Artoria asked excitedly.

“A vigoroth…” I muttered aloud. “I doubt it. He’s only testing us at the second badge level, which probably means he’s going to stick to the more generic normal types unfortunately. It should be enough to give Durvasa a good fight. Expect zigzagoon, taillow, whismur, and the like. Maybe we’ll see a zangoose? Or a stantler?”

“Flaaffy. Flaaf-flaa…”

‘A pity, my lord. I would have enjoyed facing one of Leader Norman’s stronger fighters.’

‘I don’t think we’re ready for those,’ I said truthfully.

Though slaking were as feared in Hoenn as snorlax were in Indigo, it was their progeny that were the real threats in Petalburg Woods. A slaking would leave you alone for the most part so long as you didn’t do anything worthy of the Darwin Awards or it wasn’t mating season when they got super-territorial.

Vigoroth were far more energetic and enthusiastic, eager to get into fights against damn near anything that moved, and sometimes even things that didn’t move. There was a video floating around of a vigoroth slashing at a rock for thirty minutes. Why? Because it had the audacity to shift its shade away from the napping pokemon. They were weaker than slaking, sure, but their trigger temper, tenacity, and aggression made them some of the most dangerous predators around. It was a good thing they required so much food, making them rare in the wild.

I could see Artoria taking down a wild vigoroth with a lot of effort. One trained personally by Norman? Likely sired by his elite slaking? No, she wasn’t ready for that, no matter what she thought.

‘You lack faith in me,’ Artoria said glumly. ‘Is my training not enough?’

‘When you can cut a mature tree in two with your spoon, maybe. Vigoroth are just bad news in general.’

‘Then I will train all the harder.’

‘You really don’t have to.’ Pulses of emotion, skepticism and determination, flooded my mind. ‘I’m serious. We have one badge. You battle like you should be going for your third, maybe even your fourth. You’re progressing at a great pace and I’m proud of you.’

She was silent for a long while. She stared off into the horizon as the waves lapped at the shore. ‘My lord?’

‘Yes, Artoria?’

‘The world is truly vast.’

‘It is.’

‘I will rise above them all one day.’

‘Yours is the spoon that shall scoop the heavens.’

‘Your sense of humor is still terrible.’

‘Lies. Tengen Toppa Gurren Lagann was a fantastic anime and its lines are pure gold.’

‘A knight does not lie… but it does have catchy lines,’ she admitted.

We were interrupted from our banter by a familiar face. Frankie the watermelon waved us over with a big smile on his face. By his side, his roserade nibbled at a cotton candy bigger than its head. “Hey, Aaron, fancy seeing you here.”

“Hey, Frankie. I helped out at a booth and figured I’d spend the rest of the evening exploring before my gym battle. How about you?”

“I came out to let Pepe, my pelipper, enjoy the sea.” He waved generally towards the waves. “He’s out there somewhere, maybe finding a lady friend while he’s at it. I was on my way back to the pokemon center to release the evening weather balloon actually.”

“Huh, nice. How’s that going?”

“Clear skies all around. No building fronts or much else to say. Hey! I just remembered,” he exclaimed. He dug around in his pocket and produced a ticket. “I was walking around earlier and won a raffle for an evening cruise. Do you want it? I figure I owe you for the pokemon center and everything so…”

“You know the Weather Institute will pay me back, right?”

“Yeah, but that’s them. I’m the one who got a bed out of it so take it. It’s not like I can attend since I have a job to do.”

“True… Thanks, Frankie, I appreciate it.”

“Don’t get your hopes up too much though. It’s not really a pleasure cruise, just a small boat that’s towed by a blastoise and a lapras. There’s supposed to be a tentacool bloom tonight though so that should be pretty to look at.”

“Can you predict tentacool blooms?” I asked curiously. “I thought that was just what they called a bunch of jellyfish in one place.”

“Yup. Warm weather, calm skies, and good algae content can be the catalyst. Around this time of year, a bunch of tentacool gather off the southern shores of Hoenn and mate.”

“Huh, nice. I might check it out. Thanks again, Frankie.”

“No problem, Aaron. You take care now.”

Author’s Note

I never expected to write that much about a tug of war game, but here I am…

Not much to say. I feel like I write too much of the slice of life sometimes and not enough action, but I also kinda like it this way.

I don't have an animal fact for you today. In unrelated news, one of my three housemates disappeared. He send another roommate a text saying he's "on a plane to Colombia." He left all his stuff and apparently paid a Venezuelan man to come move his things for him.

Except he didn't pay rent and didn't give notice. So now we're impounding all his shit. I have no idea what's going to happen but that's been my life this week. Rent's probably going to go up because the landlord is (understandably) pissed. How're y'all doing?