When confronting a wild Pokémon, it is always the responsibility of a human to de-escalate. Whatever steps you can reasonably take to defuse the situation, you are legally obligated to perform. The exact details of what that looks like vary from species to species, and even individual to individual, but the standard and most universally-encompassing option is to talk. To use words before violence. To prove that you’re willing to communicate, and engage as an equal.
I knew that. It’d been drilled into me for hours and hours, both growing up, and since I’d joined the ranger corps. We had exercises where we faked encounters with wild Pokémon, and performed excursions where I’d shown what I learned in real-world situations.
It was the law, here in Ferrum, for both civilians, rangers, and security forces alike.
Not even fifteen minutes ago, I’d demonstrated those exact skills, to admittedly minimal effect, when trying to talk down the frenzied Vigoroth whose ball I now clutched in my hand.
Ultimately though, that’s just conceit. The strong get to choose to talk. The strong get to choose words, or patience, or violence. The laws of our region are predicated on humans being the stronger party, on having a Pokémon partner that enables them to make that choice. Because the alternative doesn’t matter. After all, if you’re the one who’s weak, you never get an option at all.
One wingbeat, one almost negligent-looking attack, and I found my feet leaving the ground. My arms windmilling, my legs scrabbling for purchase, and my whole body hurting like I’d been splashed with frigid, biting water. The forest blurred by me as I sailed through the air, and I realized that someone was screaming, the noise barely peaking over the static, grating drone erupting all around us.
I felt my back impact heavily with the ground, and the screaming cut off. Because of course it did. It’d been me. I’d been the one screaming. Back before I crashed into the earth with enough force to knock all of the air free of my lungs. Back when I could breathe.
To their credit, my team hadn’t hesitated. As soon as that blast of wind had torn out, it’d been met by three streams of glowing seeds courtesy of Maushold, followed closely by a barrage of glittering leaves from the trio of Skiddoss. In their wake was a blast of water from Mana, and six spherical, charging bodies.
And all of it, attack and Pokémon alike, was stymied by that one, enormous gust. The wave of wind and shadow overtook us all, a veritable hurricane that tore the leaves and branches from nearby trees, and throttled our assault in its tracks, scattering moves and Falinks as easily as it had those leaves.
I struggled with limbs that felt like lead to sit up, to face the existential threat that had wandered into our path. The two Poké Balls clutched in my fists felt odd. Slick, and hard to grasp. My jacket was more crimson than I remembered, as were my pants. Splotches of red against the tan canvas.
Blood. My blood, leaching into my clothing and the murky, snow-powdered earth. That attack had been so strong that it’d injured me through my syn. My body had judged the injuries worth taking, as opposed to getting knocked out all in one hit.
An unconscious decision I was highly thankful for, because the Vigoroth hadn’t just been lacerated. She’d been poisoned. “Everyone, Protect!” I screamed, the howl tearing out of my throat in a scream that, for one precious second, blasted through the omnipresent drone.
Flickering barriers sprung up all around me, my knights, the Maushold, each of the Skiddos, all of them hurtling into action, hauling themselves off the forest floor and getting their barriers up.
And not a moment too soon, as a deluge of purple powder blasted into us. It was like snow, the individual spores so thick and acidic I could watch them burn through the dirt as if they were acid. Poison Powder, somehow enhanced, acting more like a Sandstorm than the gentle status move I was familiar with. Gale-force winds carrying the infectious violet grains in a blustering storm, whipping dirt, snow, and poisonous scales into a noxious flurry.
I could see all of it clearly, the oppressive storm pushed up against the green, hexagonal barrier generated by six, quivering spheres, set between us and the assault. “Thanks guys,” I breathed, reveling in the moment of relative silence, as the Protect formed a dome-like lattice that blocked out the Poison Powder and whatever was causing the buzzing alike. That too, must have been the result of some sort of move. Bug Buzz, in all likelihood.
That conclusion, coupled with the glimpses I’d caught of our assailant set its identity firmly in my mind. After all, those red compound eyes, the bleach-bone wings, the combination of moves, it could only really point to one possible culprit. One that should have made me laugh. Maybe it would have, if I could feel my throat. We were being attacked by a Butterfree. It sounded like a bad joke. What’s the most dangerous thing you could run into in Cesnine forest?
Apparently, the answer was a bug shorter than I.
The storm faded, as did our temporary respite, Protects fizzling out and the droning whine of the Butterfree’s Bug Buzz reasserting itself. I staggered to my feet, trying to ignore the way my blood-slick clothes stuck uncomfortably to my skin. I wasn’t bleeding a lot, the cuts weren’t deep, but they were all over me. Small rents in my skin and outfit, scattered across my torso, limbs, and face. Each individual wound was minor, but altogether, it was adding up to me feeling rather light-headed.
Now wasn’t the time for rest, however. The sheer power of our assailant’s attacks had apparently exhausted it temporarily, judging by the way it perched on a nearby branch, carapace quivering as it struggled to suck in additional oxygen.
The oppressive aura of inky blackness surrounding the Butterfree had lifted slightly, giving me a better view of the dangerous Pokémon. Something looked– off about it, beyond just the inky, smoke-like substance it was emitting. Its compound eyes were dark, unreadable pools of crimson malice, no compassion or understanding in them at all. The Bug-type’s normally-white wings were covered in patches of darkness, as if the small scales that made up those portions were corroding like metal. Its antennae were jagged, twisting and spiralling in ways that looked involuntary.
But strangest of all were the odd shards of crystal, some dug into its skin and wings, and one particularly large one clutched protectively in its tiny claws. They glowed with a flickering, pulsating light, some inner energy writhing just beneath the stone’s surface, coloring them in a pustulant orange. Even as I watched, the glow suffusing them intensified, and wisps of shadowy energy erupted from the shards.
I tore my gaze away, focusing on my team instead. We had a small window of opportunity here, where the Butterfree’s assault was stalled. One I couldn’t hesitate to use. “Clover, extraction!” I screamed, sending a well-practiced order at the Skiddo.
A powerful vine shot out of the ride Pokémon’s grassy mane, wrapping around me even as my hands whirled about, recalling my partners with frenetic energy. Five of the six magnetic clasps on my belt found themselves filled, my carry limit exceeded. And yet, for some reason, the new Poké Balls stubbornly refused to teleport back to the ranger outpost.
My team’s balls rocked, but I steadied them with a firm hand as, with a jerk, I was sailing through the air again. This time however, my flight was careful, controlled. Clover’s powerful vines settled me atop her back, and my hands found their way to her horns, though they threatened to slip off, slick with sweat and blood as they were.
If she minded it, Clover didn’t say anything, electing instead to tear into the forest, sprinting back down the trail the way we had come, followed closely by her siblings, Hyacinth and Myrrh. The trio bounded between the trees, all concern for careful transit abandoned as we barreled through the forest. Every bit of speed mattered, any chance to get away from the monstrous pursuer behind us.
The oppressive drone surrounding us lightened slightly, as we made distance, and I took the chance while I could sort of hear to try the radio again. This time, instead of the solid red light the indicator had been showing before, occasional flashes of green appeared, coinciding with moments of almost-clarity. The device was still unusable, but now the reason was pretty clear. For some reason, the Butterfree’s Bug Buzz was interfering with radio communications. And if it could mess with our radios, maybe it was disrupting the Vigoroth and Slakoth’s Poké Balls as well.
Unfortunately, I didn’t have the opportunity to pursue the theory any further. As fast as the Skiddo were, all three were weighed down by various loads. And even worse, our pursuer could fly.
With a howl of displaced air, the uncomfortable buzzing began swelling in volume once more. A glance over my shoulder showed another corona of inky-black energy erupting from the trees to our rear, rapidly growing in intensity and shrinking in distance.
The blast of wind exploded from behind us, tearing through the forest like an artillery shell. “PROTECT!” I screamed the command, before devolving into a coughing fit as my throat spasmed.
All three Skiddos dug their hooves into the loamy ground and crashed to a halt. They bleated in unison, raising green barriers that glowed just a little fainter than they had before.
With a crash, the blast of air slammed into the three Protects, washing over them in a howling vortex of displaced air and leaving three panting, exhausted Grass-types in its wake.
I released Mana and Maushold onto the backs of the heaving ride Pokémon, and shouted at them to “Be Ready!” in between bouts of coughing.
The action wasn’t a moment too soon, because our pursuer didn't let up, taking advantage of our stalled movement to wing out of the trees, strafing us with blasts of sticky webbing that sparked and crackled.
The Electro Webs were met by a barrage of attacks from our side, Clover’s Razor Leafs mingling with Maushold’s Bullet Seeds and Mana’s Water Guns. Most of the entangling projectiles went wide or were deflected, blanketing the area in a carpet of crackling silk, but a few found their mark even in spite of my team’s best efforts. The power differential was just too much. One of the Maushold were blasted off of their mount, While all three ride Pokémon, bigger targets that they were, got covered in some amount of the sticky not-fluid.
With a grimace, I recalled Maushold, and released my knights. It felt like my mind was running thirty kilometers a second, trying to keep pace with what was going on. Half-formed thoughts and vague observations paired off, looping round themselves in uncertain spirals before resolving into actions born of desperation, training, and instinct.
“Knights, cannon impression! Mana, Tearful Look, try to slow it down!” My Pokémon sprung into motion, Mana crying viscous tears that crackled and sparked when they landed on the electrified webs while my knights hurled one of their own, Bers I noted idly, at the wheeling form of the strange Butterfree.
My hardiest knight glowed with Bug-type energy, slamming into our insectile assailant at priority speed, latching onto the larger Pokémon with his shields and ramming his horn into it over and over.
With a howl of screeching air, another hurricane blast of wind erupted from the Butterfree, accompanied by another eruption of inky-black energy. It looked almost like a synergy burst, but with the warm, prismatic light inverted into an encompassing, soul-sucking darkness.
Bers was torn free, and the rest of us were sent sprawling once more by the blast of wind. I was barely able to keep my grip on Clover’s horns, evidence that this Gust was slightly weaker than the last, but all of our side’s Pokémon let out cries of pain and alarm anyway as they were buffeted by the attack. Too many of us were vulnerable to the Supereffective Flying-type moves this Butterfree could throw out at will.
After a few seconds, the gail relented, and I bit out a command through gritted teeth as I threw Maushold’s ball. “Split up and chew those webs apart! We have to get out of here!”
Three sets of incisors got industriously to work, one for each Skiddo, tearing the webs stuck to them asunder and freeing the panting ride Pokémon. “The saddlebags too!” I amended my command after a few seconds, “cut them free!” Maushold didn’t hesitate, rending the synthetic fibers apart as easily as they’d chewed through the natural webs.
The saddlebags and their contents spilled onto the ground, berries and medicine flopping in the dirt like discarded rubbish. The head Honchkrow wouldn’t be happy about that, but she could take it up with us later. If we survived this encounter.
“Go!” I shouted at the newly-freed Skiddo, while recalling my partners once more.
Similar to last time, the large blast of power had set our assailant reeling, the Bug-type apparently recovering its energy once again. It hovered drunkenly behind us, the crystalline shards erupting from its carapace pulsating in time with its wingbeats. The time it took us to free ourselves, however, meant that the Butterfree was right on our tail again as we set off, just seconds away from catching up. I could see it on our tail, inky shadows spilling from the stone clutched in its claws and surrounding the Bug-type once more.
Hyacinth and Myrrh ran ahead of us, no longer burdened by their loads, but Clover still had to carry me, and found herself falling behind her siblings. I could feel the Grass-type trembling beneath me, worn down by the constant Bug Buzz and the other attacks she’d taken. The other two Skiddo weren’t in much better shape, but without the saddles weighing them down, they could go just that little bit faster.
My hands were moving before my mind had made a conscious decision. “Catch!” I shouted at the fleeing ride Pokémon, injecting just enough syn into my voice to make my intentions clear, and also to cause the taste of iron to coat my tongue.
Three Poké Balls and a crimson radio flew out, the barrage of devices tumbling chaotically in the air for a few moments before promptly getting snatched out of the sky by four outstretched vines. Maushold’s ball cracked open, the trio of Normal-types apparating atop the fleeing Skiddo while staring back at me with too-wide eyes. “We’ll stall the Butterfree! Get out of the Bug Buzz’s range and call for help!” I screamed at them, even as I wrenched Clover’s horns, directing her to stop.
Clover did not in fact stop, but she did slow, which was good enough. The droning crescendo swelled behind us once more, forcing me to shout to be heard over the din. “Just slow down a little bit more and drop me off, and then you can go with them,” I promised the brave Skiddo, as I readied myself to leap free from the saddle. “We’ll hold out as long as we can. I’m sure Maushold can figure out how to use the radio, and Bakiru should be able to understand them. He can teleport help to us,” I explained to her, putting bravery I didn’t feel into my tone. “Get home Clover. I’ll see you soon.”
Plan explained, my hands tore free from the Grass-types horns. After a second to gauge our current speed, I made to leap from her back, only to find my jump arrested by a vine wrapped around my waist. The surrounding trees wiped across my vision, as my mount firmly turned me around, forcing me to put my hands back on her horns for balance.
“Skid, Skiddo!” Clover bleated, her cries barely audible over the ambient buzzing. “Skiddo!” With a burst of speed, she tore off, grass erupting from beneath her hooves as Trailblaze boosted her speed.
“Clover, you can’t keep this up for long,” I protested. “You should save your energy to get out of here!”
My mount didn’t bother replying, but she didn’t need to. Her feelings came through in her unfaltering movements, the stubborn set of her shoulders.
“Alright, but don’t go too fast. Pace yourself, so it chases us, and not your siblings.”
Clover slowed down just a hair, but began accelerating again when the buzzing started to swell.
“And I don’t have your ball, so I can’t recall you,” I warned her as we went, “if things start going bad, you need to get out of here, okay?”
Once again, I didn’t get a response, but hopefully she saw the wisdom in my words. Especially since, I mused as I surreptitiously tied my trainer’s belt to her saddle, she wouldn’t be fleeing just for herself.
-
Clover bought us more time than I could have hoped for. Precious minutes for Myrrh and Hyacinth escape the range of the monstrous Butterfree’s Bug Buzz. And equally valuable moments for me to go over the frantic battle in my mind. To remember, to consider, and to strategize.
Unfortunately, as I’d known she would, Clover started to slow down, exhausted by her constant use of Trailblaze. I could no longer see our pursuer, but I could certainly hear them, and after a few seconds at our reduced speed, the oppressive droning began to swell once more. We were running out of time, which meant what I’d figured out so far was going to have to be good enough. I spoke frantically to my partners’ balls, relaying my observations and the resulting plan. “Listen carefully everyone. Every time the Butterfree exhausted itself, the stone it was clutching began glowing and emitting that ominous black energy. I think it’s drawing power from the stone. If we can separate the two, we might be able to weaken it enough to win.”
I coughed a few times into the elbow of my jacket, and tried to ignore the stinging pain the spastic movement caused in the dozen minor cuts layered across my skin. “Knights, you’re on frontline duty. Fight defensively, try to wear the Butterfree down without overextending yourselves. If you can get it to fire off another one of those big moves into a Protect, we’ve got our window. Mana, you’re on debuffing duty. Keep stacking Tearful Looks on it, as fast as you can. Weaken it enough, and it’ll have to draw power from the stone to compensate. Clover, you’re going to be the one to separate the stone from the Butterfree. Your vines go fast, and have enough control to wrench the stone out of its grasp. Does everyone understand?”
My question was met with rolling balls and bleated affirmations.
“Alright, Clover, I see a clearing up ahead. Looks like as good a place to make our stand as any. Let’s do this, everyone.”
Clover tore into the glade at a speed just below-breakneck. She tried, and failed, to arrest her momentum a few times, before her hooves finally found purchase, burying themselves in the dirt and snow. A trail of grass marked our path, the spring shoots erupting from the hard, wintery earth. Everywhere not affected by the Trailblaze was covered in a thick layer of snow, the break in the trees letting heavier clumps of winter white accumulate on the ground.
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The branches around us creaked and groaned, loads of snow displaced by our breakneck passage or disturbed in rippling patterns matching the swelling drone of our incoming pursuer. The sun wasn’t quite at the horizon, washing the entire scene in blistering light that stood starkly at odds with the desperate, crushing fear that suddenly assailed me.
If I was wrong about this. If we messed this up. If even the littlest thing went wrong. I was dead. The multitude of minor cuts suffusing my body was evidence enough of that. Our opponent had no compunctions about striking to kill.
And worse, far worse than the danger to myself, was the threat to my partners. My knights and Clover, weak to the Butterfree’s cutting winds. Mana, vulnerable to attacks of all sorts.
One good hit, one overpowered Air Slash or deluge of Poison Powder, and one of my partners could be down for the count. Maybe down for good.
The terror was almost paralyzing. My eyes flicked to the belt still affixed to Clover’s saddle, and then down to the balls I clutched protectively in my hands. The red and white devices were stained with splotches of blood, set in patterns where my fingers had wiped the viscous substance all over them.
I turned to Clover, the order to flee on my lips, but before I could say anything both balls erupted, spilling their contents onto the forest floor in a flurry of light and sound.
Mana hovered up, her teary eyes meeting my own, while my knights surrounded me protectively, bristling in the direction of the approaching darkness.
I felt warmth fill my chest, competing with the terror. My team was with me, and I knew they’d defend me to the last. Slowly, the courage that knowledge brought me drowned out the fear.
As did a certain determination. Carefully, I used the cuffs of my jacket to wipe the blood free from the two Poké Balls clutched in my hands. If everything went wrong, if we didn’t have a chance, if we got overwhelmed, and all seemed lost, some of us would be escaping this situation alive. I’d make sure of it.
-
We had a few precious seconds that we used to set up. My knights glowed with energy, five of them Bulking Up while I treated the sixth, a heavily beaten Bers, with a potion taken from my pack. Mana sprayed water all around the clearing, melting the snow into puddles of slush that she could draw on instead of generating her own fluids on the fly. Clover’s mane erupted in a line of germinating sprouts that she scattered about the clearing, the Leech Seeds forming clever traps that might ensnare or weaken any foes that strayed too close.
And then, we were out of time.
The droning whine felt louder, but it was probably actually the same. It just sounded that way because I was weaker, my syn worn down by the impacts I’d taken and by the constant, ear-splitting buzz.
My partners were in the same condition, and even Mana, who’d yet to take an actual attack, looked haggard and worn. That didn’t stop them from holding their ground, however, and when the Butterfree tore into the clearing, it was met with a bevy of attacks.
Percy and Galad went flying, launched by their brothers, while Mana began blubbering, focusing her efforts on weakening the rampaging Bug-type. Clover offered a few cursory Razor Leaves, but she mostly hung back, vines out and ready to extend at a moment's notice.
Unfortunately, the break in the trees meant our foe had plenty of room to maneuver. With insectile grace, the Butterfree danced out of Galad’s way, before shooting Percy down with an Air Slash. Some of the Razor Leaves hit, but the effect seemed minimal, which made sense considering the typing at play.
My knights didn’t let up for a moment, charging forwards across the snowy ground, while Mana completed her first Tearful Look, and immediately launched into the second.
I stalked the outskirts of the battle, keeping Clover between the Butterfree and I, in case a Protect was necessary to defend against one of the Bug-type wide-scale attacks.
Unfortunately for us, the Butterfree wasn’t so easily baited this time, trading lighter moves with my knights while mostly ignoring Clover’s occasional projectiles.
With our numbers cut in half, the monstrous Pokémon clearly didn’t feel pressured to utilize one of its overpowered attacks yet. We’d need to bait it out more if we wanted to get our chance.
My knights’ Bulk Ups, coupled with the weakening effects of Mana’s Tearful Look was keeping them from getting outright knocked out, but they were struggling to put meaningful pressure on the flying Pokémon, none of them able to replicate Bers’ earlier success in clinging to the Bug-type, in spite of repeated throws.
The Butterfree was warier now, avoiding or deflecting any Falinks-projectiles before they could get close enough to latch on.
We were losing slowly, my knights accumulating damage, but I didn’t shout any new commands yet. After all, syn wasn’t the only thing you could attack in a Pokémon battle.
With a coughing cry, Mana launched into yet another round Tearful Looks. The repeated move was tiring her, and drying out her normally-dampened eyes, but the effect it was having on the Butterfree was unmistakable. The Air Slashes came out just a little bit weaker. The ambient buzzing reduced in volume from teeth-rattling to merely painful.
My piscine partner stuck to the edges of the clearing, darting behind cover whenever the Butterfree turned a wrathful eye her way.
Months ago, she’d have had no chance of dodging the Air Slashes the Bug-type sent at her, but Mana was growing too, like all of my partners. She dipped and darted between the nearby trees, not quite as fast as if she was underwater, but close, moving with a grace that spoke to her time spent doing the same amongst the kelp forests of her birthplace.
Any time the Butterfree got frustrated enough to start flapping towards the brave little fish, my knights redoubled their efforts, hurling themselves with reckless abandon to distract it, only to Turtonator up again once they had its attention.
The push and pull put us at an uneasy equilibrium, one that couldn’t last. Something was bound to give. I’d been hoping that it’d be the Butterfree, and my eyes stuck closely to it, watching for any sign of another eruption of energy.
Unfortunately, the weakest link ended up being on our side. Ended up being me. Me, because I’d forgotten to take into account the most dangerous, pernicious part of fighting a Butterfree at close range.
With a cough, and seemingly unprompted, Bers collapsed, dropping Kay in the midst of winding up for another throw. My knights chirruped in alarm, closing ranks around their downed member, only for Galad to fall down a second later.
The purple tint infecting their carapaces was unmistakable, and I felt my heart rise into my throat. Poison Powder. So light and fine it wasn’t visible, slowly accumulating in my knights, until it overwhelmed them.
The Bug-type took advantage of the opening, laying into my knights with a barrage of poisonous energy. Venoshock, barely halted by scattered, faltering Protects as more and more of my brave partners succumbed to the insidious attack already inside them.
My hand flashed, and I recalled my knights, before releasing them again right next to me. I tore through my bag, searching for an Antidote, while shouting at Clover. “Cover us! I need to treat this poison.”
The ride Pokémon stepped forwards, her vines waving threateningly, but the Butterfree ignored her, instead taking the opportunity while she wasn’t getting harassed by my knights to pursue a different threat.
Mana let out a squeak of alarm as the Butterfree winged towards her, hurtling through the air like a missile towards my piscine partner.
She ducked out of the way, and I screamed in her direction. “Mana, get closer to us!”
For a few heart-wrenching seconds, the little fish was on her own, frantically winding between the trees, trying to avoid the Butterfree close on her tail. And then, in a rush, she was free and out, hurtling into the clearing. My hand snapped up, trying to track her desperate flight so I could recall her.
The light from the ball flashed out, only to get blocked by a darting form, the red laser scattering off the bleach-bone wings of the hovering Butterfree. I watched with horror as the Bug-type interposed itself between my partner and I, before drawing its wings back to launch an Air Slash. The exact sort of attack that had almost cut a Vigoroth in half, aimed at my little fish.
“MANA, DIVE!” I screamed in, my voice for one second louder than the buzzing all around us.
The tiny Water-type obliged, darting downwards in a desperate bid to escape the incoming assault.
The Butterfree’s wings snapped forwards, and a blade of wind tore through air, visible by the wake it cut through the shadows surrounding the Bug-type.
My eyes tracked Mana down, down, so close to the ground, hoping, praying that she’d juke, dodge, pull up, do anything. Instead, she seemed to hit the snow and dirt, and an instant later, a cutting wave of wind slammed into the earth, sending sleet and loam hurtling in all directions. And mixed in with them, mingled among the browns and whites, were flecks of red crimson. Blood.
Someone was screaming again, sharp and loud and rough. Me, one part of me, venting my horror and despair into the air, even as another segment of my mind went through the motions of treating my knights. Most of them weren’t responding to the Antidote, straight-up out cold. Lance and Tristan were recovering, but slowly, still bleary and unable to move, leaving Clover’s trembling form the only thing between the Butterfree and I.
With faltering, shaky hands, I recalled my knights, and stood up, sticking their ball to the magnetic clasp on the belt I’d tied to Clover’s saddle. I was weeping now, shuddering heaves that would have given Mana a run for her money. Had she been… If she was still…
I slammed Clover’s horns, putting all of my fear, my terror, and my desperate hope into it. “Go!” I screamed at her. “Get out of here!”
The Grass-type turned one disbelieving eye back at me. I saw fear reflected there, pain, and horror to match my own. But something else too. Determination. And loyalty. The sort of loyalty that had already gotten one of my partners…
This time, my scream was an order. All of my authority and a burst of syn that left my head feeling cottony and strange. “Run. Don’t look back.”
Clover turned, her body following the command before her mind could catch up. That eye still looked at me, piercing its way to my very soul, the faith and devotion in it giving way to hurt and betrayal. Better that though, than someone else getting killed for my stubborn pride.
If I’d only been willing to stay at the station. If I just hadn’t been so impatient, so determined to do something. If I’d just had us run as soon as something seemed off, if I’d just sent Mana and my knights away with Clover earlier. If, if, if.
So many regrets, and no time for them now.
Clover tore off, heading towards the treeline, leaving me exposed, facing the Butterfree. The Bug-type’s unreadable crimson eyes stared down at me, for one moment, two, and then, the savage Pokémon darted in, wings aglow with power.
Closer it came, hurtling through the air, closing in so that I couldn’t dodge.
Clover made it to the edge of the clearing, a bleat of despair piercing the air.
I held up my arms, crossing them in front of my face, but unable to look away from my killer, my eyes caught in the malevolent, million-faceted gaze of its cruel, compound eyes.
And with a cacophonous crash, like the tide slamming into the shore, Mana erupted from one of the puddles she’d made earlier, situated by pure coincidence right between the incoming Bug-type and myself. Her entire body was aglow with blue energy, her mouth open wide and water streaming out of it in an unrelenting tide. It mingled with the glowing tears streaming from her eyes, and with the crimson blood pouring from her right flank, where most of the scales were flayed off by the earlier attack. Her piercing scream more closely resembled a bellow, like the sound a Wailord would make, carried by the fluids scattering off of her in a fractal mess of color, volume and fury.
She slammed into the Butterfree with a crash, the tide of water bearing the chittering Bug-type to the forest floor. She rebounded off the flailing wild Pokémon, inverting the streaming water coming out of her mouth into a blast of compressed fluids that further drove the struggling Butterfree into the ground.
And the forest floor erupted in turn, buried seeds activated by the struggling wild Pokémon, thorny whips and vines wrapping around the Bug-type and further pinning it to the dirt. Clover’s earlier Leech Seeds, finally able to grasp their target.
I felt my jaw hang open, as Mana’s attack petered off, leaving her heaving form in front of me. She looked like a wreck, eyes cracked and dry from over-crying, blood leaking from the mangled remains of the scales barely hanging onto one flank. One of her fins was twisted and bent in a way that told me it was broken, and her normally azure-scales were pallid and wan. She shuddered with obvious exhaustion, but her eyes never left the struggling form of the Butterfree, crimson rage and and ochre determination painting her gaze in equal measures.
Slowly, gradually, the buzzing noise all around us lightened, fading away past the edges of my perception. The Butterfree struggled feebly against the vines holding it pinned, but it looked drained, faint, like the life and color had been leached from it in equal measure.
“Mana,” I started to say, my gaze going from the pinned bug to my partner, but any further attempts at speech were aborted. Halted because my little fish had finally turned her gaze back on me, and her eyes held the exact same tints of anger and resolve she’d had staring at the Butterfree.
Shame filled me in a rush, as I fumbled to explain. “I thought you were… I just didn’t want…”
My faltering excuses were met by a condemnation. “Washi, wash!” She accused as she floated down, eyes boring into mine.
“I’m sorry,” I croaked, my voice hoarse and flagging. “I’m sorry. Thank you for listening. Thank you for being okay. I’m sorry.”
I reached out a tentative hand, and Mana closed, one fin brushing softly against an extended finger. Her eyes were still fierce, but there was something underneath, something tender, and understanding.
But before we could exchange any more words, a bleated warning tore through the clearing.
I wheeled, my eyes alighting on Clover, howling at us from the treeline. I turned back around, my eyes finding the Butterfree, its otherwise-still form convulsing unnaturally. The crystal shards embedded in its body had redoubled their glow, outpourings of energy shredding the restricting vines pinning to the Bug-type to the ground.
The prone Pokémon’s wings extended as if puppetted by some unseen force, twisting and writhing as the bone-white scales melted off them in a slurry. The poisonous payload caught in the air, suspended by barely-controlled wind, quivering with horrendous force. Purple-tinted powder joined the fluttering scales, the buzzing sound returned, the droning whine louder than ever, generated by the Butterfree spasming wings.
“GET DOWN!” I screamed, but my voice was lost in the din as the pressure surrounding the wild Pokémon was released. Mana let loose another bone-rattling bellow, and for a moment, I saw nothing but blue, and then, nothing but black.
-
Blearily, I opened my eyes.
Shrapnel-like wind had whipped in all directions, carrying a venomous payload that sizzled and burned the very air it passed through. The trees on the edge of the meadow were seared clean, leaves burned and shredded as if they’d been set alight. The snow on the ground was almost entirely melted, dissolved into puddles of acrid, caustic slurry. Even the dirt wasn’t spared, craters of and pits dug into the earth by tearing blades of wind and clumps of congealed poison.
The abhorrent tableau flashing through my vision as I whirled around, trying to get my bearings. Everything hurt, my whole body screaming at me that something was wrong. I coughed, and spit a mix of crimson and purple saliva onto the ground.
There was something that I had to do. Something. Pokémon. Partners. Enemy. A plan.
Just the act of looking hurt, like my surroundings were poison to the eyes. Tears sent trails down my cheeks, but my brain couldn’t piece together why I was crying.
Something was calling to me.
I staggered forwards, the only thing moving in the clearing. I stumbled through toxic pools, paying little mind to how they bit and tore into my boots, sizzling through the rubber soles and into the socks and flesh beneath.
It hurt, but everything hurt. My whole world was pain. That didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was the glow. I could see it now, a beautiful, beckoning orange. Brighter than the fading sun. More lustrous than the greatest gem.
It twinkled like all the stars in the sky, somehow contained in a little shard of stone clutched protectively by a pair of quivering claws.
Danger! My mind screamed at me. A threat!
But not now. Not for a little bit longer. Beautiful, lustrous energy flowed from the stone to the prone creature, but it hadn’t had time to recover. Still wasn’t quite able to move.
Which meant it was vulnerable. It couldn’t stop me. Couldn’t keep me from taking what was mine.
A hand lashed out, snatching the precious shard from twitching claws. The other, smaller pieces continued to glow, continued to pulse, but they didn’t matter now. I had the real prize. I held it up so it caught the sun’s rays, admiring the sparkling jewel in my grasp.
I wanted to see it better. To see more. How could my eyes be so insufficient for witnessing this beauty? What could I do to better perceive the light I had captured?
Of course. My eyes weren’t good enough to see, but the stone was perfect. The conclusion that followed was the most natural thing in the world. Surely, I could see it all, if only the stone was my eye.
How much more perfect might I be? How much stronger would I become? How much more of the world could I be able to see?
Gleefully, a raspy chuckle in my throat, I held the glittering crystal up to my face, uncaring how its wonderfully sharp edges cut my hands and cheeks. I pinched it between thumb and forefinger, and made to push it into my skull.
Only to find my hand stopped, an urgent tugging at one end of the beautiful crystal keeping me from putting it in its rightful place.
My eyes tore themselves away from my glittering prize to the horrible interloper who had placed their little jaws on my most precious treasure.
They were small, no more than twenty centimeters in length, and the whole of that length was covered in blood and grime. Flaking scales and broken bones made them look jagged, and uneven, and their eyes were red and yellow and blue and silver and blindingly-searingly white.
And they, too, were crying.
I knew those eyes. They were almost as beautiful… no, they were more beautiful than the shard of crystal between my fingers.
“...” I tried to speak, to say something, but my voice wouldn’t work. Nothing seemed to be working. Suddenly, I remembered. Pain. Everything was pain. Everything except the crystal. Surely, the crystal would make everything better, if I could just put it in its proper place.
I tried to pull on it, and found myself stymied again by a firm, yet gentle grip. The crystal glowed, and beautiful, magnificent shadows poured out of it, washing over me and leaving the pain dulled, and so very, very cold.
The little piscine creature winced against the wash of darkness, but didn’t let go, didn’t relent. Glittering, sparkling rainbows danced in her eyes, washing away the grasping, umbral energies, consuming and overwhelming them.
And slowly, but oh so very surely, I felt something more than cold coming from the stone. Resolve, harder than the firmest ice. Faith, more steady than the unrelenting tide. And love, deeper than the greatest depths of the sea.
What the stone had been offering, what the shadows contained within had wanted to give, suddenly seemed so paltry, so absolutely meager in comparison. Pyrite, glittering and pretty and so very appealing to the eye of a fool, but ultimately worthless, when compared to the real thing.
What could the shard of crystal provide? Power, maybe. Strength, for sure. Vision, undoubtedly. Gifts that I’d long thought I wanted before anything else. The power to make my own choices, the strength to follow through on them, and the vision to know that I was right. What could possibly compare to the dreams I’d grasped at for so long?
Love.
Love that I wouldn’t give up. Love that I wouldn’t let go of. Not for anything. Not for power. Not for strength. Not for vision. And definitely, not for a stupid rock.
The stone shown in our combined grasp, and for a moment, the edges of my perception flickered, my ears imagining the sound of something letting loose a terrible, rending scream.
And then, with a tiny, imperceptible clink, the stone shattered, coming apart in two, neat little pieces, one pinched between my fingers, the other locked in my partner’s jaws. The two crystals lay inert, completely drained of power.
The Butterfree stirred behind us, the shards embedded in its body still leaking that repulsive, orange light, made all the more abhorrent now that I’d felt its effects for myself.
Everything still hurt, our injuries still bled, poison still coursed through our veins.
Neither of us faltered. We faced the slowly ascending Butterfree, and I knew for certain that in that very moment, neither Mana nor I had ever been more ready to do battle.
