Spoon: 4.10 Fish (Patreon)

Aaron’s Pokemon

- Artoria (Kirlia)
- Jeanne (Flaaffy)
- Durvasa (Mankey)
- Unnamed (Egg)

Fish 4.10

Aaron Fulan

Petalburg Woods

On the plus side, the twins and the Maple siblings got along great. They agreed that I was the coolest trainer their age, which did wonderful things for my ego. As a big brother, I couldn’t be prouder. They spent a solid half hour geeking out over my most recent gym battle and how cool Artoria and Durvasa were.

On the downside, May and Liza got into an argument about whether coordinators or battlers were superior. Lisia did her best to mediate, her uncle was an exemplar of both after all, but kids were kids. They argued like only tween girls could, blind to every bit of reasoning.

Truthfully, I was of the opinion that they got along extremely well and were becoming fast friends. The opportunity to talk passionately about a subject they loved with a stranger was rare and I thought they understood that even if they didn’t quite know how to put it into words.

Liza then adopted Max, giving him all sorts of ideas to prank his sister. The Maple house would likely get… interesting…

Then again, that wasn’t my problem. Norman Maple could use some excitement in his life.

Several days later, we were camped out beneath the stars. I finally taught Jeanne her very first song. We celebrated by cracking open a fresh jar of pecha berry jam. After all, the song was a classic. It was ubiquitous. It was timeless.

‘My lord, it’s “Mary had a Little Lamb,”’ Artoria drawled. ‘Let’s not make this out to be more than it is.’

‘It’s a classic,’ I argued, more for the sake of banter than anything. ‘You just don’t know how to appreciate great music.’

‘Will the judges agree?’

‘Ehh, probably not. Still, it’s a start. It’s only four notes, but that’s four notes she can make with static that she couldn’t before.’

‘Of course, my lord.’

Next to us sat Durvasa and Artoria. Durvasa had my pokenav in hand and was trying to read the script of a play, one of the old ones that described some epic battle or another. It was incredible how smart my mankey was. He’d gone from having a hard time with the alphabet to reading historical plays.

Oh, he wasn’t fluent, but he could slowly sound out the words. He ran his little finger under each letter, picking out the sounds in his head until he got a word he could understand. It took him ages to read a single page, but speed and comfort would come with time.

Not for the first time, I wondered if pokemon had some innate blessings when it came to learning languages. It wouldn’t surprise me: Arceus was a god who made the power of friendship a tangible force in his universe. By default, it kind of necessitated a need for communication.

And yet, he grew frustrated. He was like a painter who’d taken an interest in engineering. A painter might love architecture from an aesthetic perspective, but he simply lacked the background to fully comprehend the design principles an engineer had to consider.

In Durvasa’s case, the problem was that he’d never had to learn anything except fighting. And learning to fight was easy. It came instinctively. Motor control, positioning, and even the kind of cunning that caught my interest in the first place, it all came naturally to Durvasa. He’d never truly struggled in his pursuit of self-improvement before.

I really should have seen it coming.

“Man-MANKEY!” he roared, chucking my pokenav across the clearing. His shout of frustration caught my eye, but both Jeanne and I were too far away to catch the pokenav. It bounced against the ground with the telltale sound of cracking glass.

“Kirlia! Kir!” Artoria shouted. Her spoon lashed out so quickly that the air whistled, striking Durvasa across the face and chucking him into a tree. “Kir-Kirlia!”

I bolted to my feet before the two could really begin fighting. “ENOUGH! What the hell is wrong with you two?”

The two promptly descended into shouting. I grabbed them both and sat them in front of me. I glared at them with all the disappointment I could muster. Unfortunately, I could only hold a full conversation with one of them. Lucky me, I didn’t actually have to do that.

“Artoria, that was unacceptable. You hit your teammate, the one you were supposed to be teaching, because you lost your temper,” I chided. I held out a hand to shush her. “Yes, Durvasa threw my pokenav. Doesn’t matter. Property can be replaced and you shouldn’t have done that. You threw the first punch so apologize.”

Artoria looked down at the ground with a shamefaced expression. She valued herself first and foremost as a knight. As far as she was concerned, protecting my property was part of that. No, more to the point, she considered Durvasa and Jeanne to be of similar roles, even if they didn’t see themselves that way. To her, the team was a knightly order and Durvasa’s behavior was unbefitting of that order.

Still, there was no denying that she’d wronged Durvasa in turn. As a kirlia, Artoria could literally taste my disappointment with her. So she swallowed her pride.

“Kirlia… Lia,” she mumbled an apology. Then, louder, as she bowed.

“And you, Durvasa. You’re making incredible progress,” I told him. “Wasn’t mastering your anger the whole point of enlightenment for you?”

“Man…”

“It’s fine. Getting angry is okay. Losing control is not. You went from learning the alphabet to reading plays in such a short time. You’ve got nothing to be ashamed of. If anything, you learned faster than I ever did.”

“Mankey. Man-mankey,” he grumbled. He shuffled back and forth sheepishly. By the color of his aura, I took that to be an apology. It wasn’t much of one, but it’d do.

“You’re doing well. It’s okay to take a break when you get too frustrated. Yes, the internet has a lot of information, but it’s not going anywhere.  In fact, it’s growing constantly. Take your time, Durvasa, it’ll be here when you’re fluent.”

“Mankey…”

Jeanne trotted over. In her hands was the pokenav he threw. She offered it to me with a soft bleat. I reached over and pet her, her soft wool did a lot to relax me.

Fight averted for now, I took the pokenav and inspected the damage. The screen now sported a spider web of cracks that divided it like a pizza. I turned it back on and saw that I could still read the screen if I squinted a bit. Still, Durvasa needed to be punished somehow and the answer was obvious.

“No pokenav,” I told Durvasa. “When we get to Rustboro, we’ll visit a bookstore and buy some for you, but if this is what happens when you lose control, I don’t want you touching delicate technology until you’re comfortable with reading.”

“Mankey,” he nodded in resignation.

“In the meantime, you can go ahead and practice reading from the League handbook or the travel guide.”

“Man.”

I let them go with a sigh. Once again, I was reminded that training pokemon was a lot like raising children sometimes.

‘I apologize, my lord,’ Artoria whispered in my mind, a wave of regret flowing from her side of the bond. ‘I should have recognized his mounting frustration and cut the session short.’

‘It’s fine, Artoria,’ I said. I picked her up and dragged her onto my lap. ‘Durvasa’s always got a curtain of irritation around him. I know it’s hard to tell exactly what he’s feeling through it.’

‘Still, I did not think he would lash out like a child.’

‘Which of you barfed all over my shirt after overeating again?’

‘...’

I ran my fingers through Artoria’s green locks. ‘It’s fine, Artoria. You’re young. You’re allowed to be childish. I doubt Durvasa will do this again; he’s the kind of martial artist who takes a lot of pride in self-discipline.’

‘Indeed, my lord. He will chastise himself.’

‘As do you. I seldom have to discipline you either. You’re not too different from one another, you know’

‘Perhaps…’

I chatted with Artoria and fiddled absently with the broken pokenav. The screen still worked, sort of, but it obscured enough that I’d need a new model. I also found that the audio stopped working as well, which meant no music or notifications from the chatroom. Unfortunate, but I put it out of mind seeing how Lisia would be in Rustboro in a few days anyway.

The real problem with the broken audio was that Jeanne no longer had notes to compare herself to. It wasn't the end of the world, but the flaaffy shot Durvasa annoyed looks nonetheless.

X

We were still in the woods two days later when Jeanne stopped. Her ears flickered to and fro, listening anxiously. Durvasa quickly followed. It was only then that I realized the woods had grown unusually silent.

“Flaaf,” Jeanne bleated, voice tinged with worry.

“What’s going on? Do you hear anything?” I asked her. Next to me, Artoria brandished her spoon, ready to take on all comers.

Then it hit. A wave of unbridled rage that put Durvasa’s entire pack to shame struck Artoria and I like a tangible force. Raw anger was the primary emotion, but there was also grief and regret too, contempt and scorn like I’d never felt before. So strong was this empathic wave that I didn’t even need to meditate to pinpoint their locations.

“Four incoming. DUCK!” I shouted.

I put words to deed and dropped to the floor haphazardly. Next to me, Artoria, Durvasa, and Jeanne did the same, and just in time to see four figures blitz past us at speeds that would rival cars on the freeway. I saw a streak of red followed by three, forest-green figures. A tree collapsed at their passing and a flying branch narrowly clipped my shoulder.

I rolled to my feet to find arguably the worst possible scenario: Three scyther surrounded us, led by a particularly pissed off scizor. I didn’t need to be an empath to see the blood-boiling wrath in its eyes. It looked like it was a second away from killing us all.

The three scyther looked younger judging by the light green of their carapace, but that didn’t make them any less dangerous. They lashed out at their surroundings, only to zero in on us. On me. They saw me and their wings buzzed ominously as they got ready to lunge.

Fuck trying to talk things out. I did what came to me first. “Jeanne! Flash!”

Strictly speaking, it wasn’t a move Jeanne had in her arsenal, but it could be said that this was the move that best encapsulated her personality. It was her ambition, to outshine the sun. She didn’t need a TM to know how to turn up the lumens.

I snatched Durvasa and Jeanne and tucked them under my arms before diving to the side. I was just in time, evading a scyther’s arcing blow by the skin of my teeth. They continued to lash out wildly, carving deep furroughs into the trees and boulders nearby. I quickly ducked behind a log and mentally called out to Artoria to teleport to my side; so long as we had our empathic bond, she wouldn’t lose my position.

“Durvasa, protect Jeanne. Jeanne, Shock Wave. Focus down the scyther,” I rattled off. “Artoria, keep the scizor busy. Spam Teleport.”

Those two seconds were all we had before the scizor let out a commanding noise that was halfway between a bark and a buzz. It brandished its crimson claws and lashed out at the nearby tree, smashing through the trunk like a wrecking ball. Its voice was enough to get the three scyther into some semblance of order.

Before they could fully gather themselves, Jeanne struck. She laid down an Electric Terrain that made the hair on my arms stand on end. Then she popped out from behind the log, a large ball of electricity sparking between her palms.

I thought that if we could keep the scizor busy somehow, we could abuse Jeanne’s type advantage to slowly whittle down the three scyther. Assuming these were wild pokemon, they ought to be at about the same strength as my pokemon, perhaps a bit stronger. In that scenario, Jeanne would be my ace in the hole so long as she could keep her distance.

Unfortunately, there was jack-shit I could do about the scizor except trust that Artoria had this. A dozen different half-formed thoughts flashed between us, our consistent intimacy the only reason we could communicate at all. She vanished in a spark of blue light; she knew what she had to do.

The nearest scyther screeched in pain as the Electro Ball struck its head. Jeanne was holding nothing back. Scyther weren’t natural predators, not like the ursaring, but she damn well knew what was at stake.

That was when its two compatriots struck. They buzzed menacingly and I knew before they even began to move that I’d made a mistake: Durvasa wouldn’t be enough to guard Jeanne while she sniped them down. Flying types still had the edge on him. He struggled against a taillow. A pair of heavier, stronger, and presumably more experienced, at the very least more aggressive, scyther would quickly overwhelm my little sage.

Again, my body moved before I could fully put my thoughts together. The blunted katana scraped ominously against one scyther’s claw. I grunted with exertion; it was all I could do to hold back a single scythe. When it swung with the other, I was forced to step back; even trying to parry one of those was dangerous.

We weren’t good enough. I’d hoped that Jeanne could knock out one scyther before all three could rush us, but that proved to be too much to ask for. It was hurt badly, but it continued on with a steadfast resolve that would have been impressive had said resolve not been to disembowel us all.

Jeanne released another Flash without prompting, catching the three scyther. Durvasa and I avoided it because we were facing away from her. That caused the scyther to flinch in pain and we took advantage of that to the best of our abilities.

I rained down blows with bone-breaking force, but the scyther’s thick carapace deflected the katana handily. It flailed wildly, lashing out with random sweeps of its scythe-arms. It was fast, faster than I could dodge. I managed to slide one scythe off the back of my sword but was forced to backpedal as fast as I could, almost losing an eye for my trouble.

I didn’t know how long we fought like that. It couldn’t have been very long but it felt like forever. We reached an uneasy equilibrium: Durvasa and I would get pushed back by the three scyther and Jeanne would Flash, buying us a few seconds of reprieve. Whether Artoria got taken down by the scizor or Jeanne could bring down the three scyther first would determine our immediate chances of survival.

“Pidgeot! Wing Attack!” I heard above me.

The screech of a fully evolved raptor filled the sky as a white blur streaked between two scyther, crashing into them with a glowing wing each. One of them, the one Jeanne had been working over, fainted immediately, while the other crumpled to the ground but still attempted to rise.

At the same time, a figure dropped down ten feet or so from the air, rolling over his shoulder and rising to his feet in a practiced roll. He wore a ranger’s fatigues and I felt an immediate sense of relief; we wouldn’t be dying today.

“Withdraw!” I shouted as I hurried back to Jeanne's side. “To me!”

Durvasa grunted in pain but hurried to obey. Even from a cursory glance, I could tell he’d need healing. Just the two minutes or so of combat had worn out my team to this extent. In a flash of light, Artoria teleported to my position. She was sporting a massive bruise over her left eye and her skirt was torn, leaving a line of red from the scizor’s Metal Claw.

The ranger responded immediately. He saw that my pokemon were out of the way and cleaned up as quickly as he could. “Heat Wave!”

“Pidgeoo!” the raptor cried, stretching out its eight foot wingspan. Motes of crimson light gathered around its wings.

Then, just as the pidgeot began to release that torrent of heat, the scizor struck. “Sci-ZOR!”

The air cracked with its passing, not unlike the sound of an elk hunting rifle. Its body glowed a metallic silver, leaving behind a silvery streak of energy as an obscenely powerful Bullet Punch struck the pidgeot.

The pidgeot cried out in pain but managed to continue the Heat Wave. Blazing wind enveloped the area, creating a fiery vortex that was localized to our clearing. A part of me recognized the tremendous amount of control the bird must have had to not start a forest fire with that move.

The gambit paid off. All three scyther were rendered unconscious, their carapace badly scorched by the sudden onslaught. The scizor looked injured but seeing its compatriots hurt was enough to make it keep fighting.

Then the ranger released a tangrowth whose Power Whip held it in place long enough for the pidgeot to get in a clean Brave Bird, ending the battle.

The ranger breathed heavily as he balled them all. He was a gruff older man in his early thirties, and judging by his team, clearly a veteran. He looked at me with a stern, admonishing glare that made me feel like I was eight years old again back in my old world’s dojo.

“What the hell are you doing here, brat?” he demanded.

“Going to Rustboro from Petalburg, sir,” I said respectfully. He’d just saved our asses.

“Well you’re lucky my pidgeot and I saw your flaaffy flashing like a lighthouse. Don’t you read your pokenav? You should have gotten word of an emergency notice. The route’s closed.”

I looked down at my pokemon. Durvasa stared down at the ground guiltily. I pulled out my pokenav and presented it to the ranger, cracked glass and all. “It broke two days ago, sir. The speakers are shot.”

He let out a tired sigh. “Damn it, just what I need. You got some real shit luck there. Alright, kid. I’m going to fly you back to the ranger camp for now.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

“Dominic Acosta, ranger sergeant, kid. Name, trainer ID, and badge?”

“Aaron Fulan. Trainer ID 617659, two badges, sir,” I said respectfully, replying by rote as we’d practiced in trainer school. Getting demanded identification by a ranger was this world’s equivalent of a traffic stop for most.

“Fulan? That Fulan? What the hell are you doing out here? Don’t you got some fancy psychic babble to keep you out of trouble?”

“I do,” I huffed. “I’m an empath. I sensed the scizor and scyther coming, but it’s no good if we can’t outrun them.”

“So you decided to fight them head-on,” he drawled. “Like an idiot,” wasn’t said, but it sure as hell was heard.

I winced. It… wasn’t exactly a smart move, but I stuck with my decision. I didn’t know what else I could have done to improve our chances. I told him as much, but that didn’t exactly make him happy for obvious reasons.

He shook his head, muttering something under his breath about idiotic kids. He then treated his pidgeot with a potion before having me return my pokemon. The damn bird grabbed me by my shoulders like a package and ferried me into the sky.

All told, I’d settle for this bit of humiliation over being dead.

X

The ranger camp was only six miles southeast of our position. The pidgeot got us there in only a few minutes even while caring for the delicate, squishy package that was yours truly.

Unlike the more popular outposts along the main road, it was made up of just two shacks and several tents and awnings. From above, I could see four other men and women in familiar, navy and burnt-orange uniforms. Several pokemon milled about, tense and ready. It was clear I’d unwittingly stepped into an operation of some sort.

As I descended, a familiar face jogged up to me

“Ranger Wheldon?” I asked, surprised to see him. Maybe I shouldn’t have been. He did say he was originally stationed in Petalburg; it made sense he’d be around for an operation here.

He stroked his goatee with a puzzled expression. “Aaron? What’re you doing here?”

“You know this kid, Wheldon?” Ranger Acosta grunted, more a demand than a question.

“Ah, yes, sir. I met him when I was briefly stationed in Verdanturf for the tunnel incident. He was the one who calmed down the ursaring mother I told you about.”

“Really? Him?” he asked disbelievingly. “Because I just saw this kid trying to fight a scyther with a sword.”

“It was all I had left,” I defended myself.

“Yup, kid talked down an angry mother ursaring,” Wheldon supplied. “Really, what are you doing here?”

“My pokenav broke. By the time my empathy picked up on the scizor, we weren’t in any position to run.”

“Yeah, you’re our cacturne bait this year, huh?”

“Your what now?”

“A trouble magnet. We get one every few years, a trainer who just seems to stumble into things without meaning to.”

I laughed nervously. He said it as a joke, but I wasn’t entirely reassured by that. The fact that this happened often enough for rangers to have slang for trainers of that nature wasn’t lost on me. Nor was the imagery: Cacturne stalked desert wanderers for days, sometimes weeks, slowly corralling them away from water until they were too weak to fight back.

It was only two events so far, the ursaring and now this. Three if I counted the tentacool, but I couldn’t deny that  my journey had been a bit more eventful than most. The notion that trouble waited around the perimeter for me to tire was… unpleasant.

I was probably being superstitious. Then again, considering all the bullshit of Legendary pokemon, a “destined” journey in which some kind of higher power nudged specific trainers towards certain encounters was a distinct possibility.

I knew one thing for certain: Durvasa was to never touch my pokenav.

Author’s Note

I originally had a plan to give Aaron the scizorite. It’s found in Petalburg Woods in ORAS. Then I decided against it in favor of giving him a new teammate.

Before the inevitable question, remember that Sharon can’t path him anymore so long as Aaron holds a relic (the gardevoirite). She didn’t warn him of danger as she did with the hydreigon rampage because she couldn’t. Saying “There’s a rampaging scizor in the forest,” isn’t that helpful once you consider how big the forest really is. It’s a bit like saying “There’s an angry bear in Yosemite National Park.” Sure, of course there is. I believe you, but the odds of me running into it is pretty damn low.

Yeah, pokedex entries get pretty dark. In other news, have a botany fact: The tallest cactus ever measured was an armless Saguaro cactus at 78’ tall. It fell over in 1986 unfortunately so we don’t actually know if it’s possible for a cactus to grow taller.

Compared to that, the cacturne’s average height of 4’ 3” feels kinda underwhelming, huh?