Apopheniac
Bulbapædist
- Joined
- Oct 29, 2024
- Messages
- 42
- Reaction score
- 26
- Pronouns
- He/Him
A young girl attempts to capture her first Pokémon.
Content warnings: innuendo, mild Pokémon violence
Marill is a cute Pokémon. The female students in the third grade of Veilstone City’s Westwood Elementary School became aware of this objective, incontrovertible fact two weeks ago, after a student named Monique introduced the rest of the class to one individual captured by her older sister. Its spherical body was covered in smooth, fine fur, mostly aqua blue, with a large white dot marking the stomach, and its face featured beady eyes and a sweet smile. Protruding from its head just above 10 and 2 were a pair of flat ears, almost donut-shaped were it not for the red interiors. Monique’s was a smaller one, able to be scooped up and carried in a girl's arms with some effort, though a larger one could be cuddled on the floor if the girl bent down on her knees. At the tip of its jagged black tail was a squishy blue ball, which had inspired the name of a clique for those who adored Marill, the Blue Balls Group, which a number of the older boys had snickered at, presumably because they were bereft of the aesthetic taste necessary to adore Marill.
The picnicking club, chaperoned by their parents and their siblings and their parents’ Pokémon and their siblings’ Pokémon, had braved the relentless downpour on Route 215 the previous weekend in a joint expedition for the purpose of locating Marill in the tall grass, subduing them in combat with Pokémon, and capturing them with Poké Balls. Rachel had been unable to join them, as she had been stuck in bed with a terrible cold. For the past few days, Rachel could only partake in the zeitgeist by playing with other peoples’ Marill. These were not her own Marill whose bellies she tickled, whose heads she scratched, whose blue balls she squeezed, whose bodies she bounced, whose squeaks and squeals delighted her, and she bore no responsibility for their care or feeding when she returned to her own home. This state of affairs was abhorrent and contemptible. It was intolerable and inequitable that Rachel’s classmates could enjoy the cuteness of Marill without her present, and she had no choice but to remedy this injustice herself.
Today, Rachel's parents were out of town, visiting Sunyshore City for some conference or something. Reuben, Rachel's older brother, had been tasked with the oversight of his younger sister, but had no desire to fulfill that obligation, and was all too willing to leave his sister to what she would. In his haste to begin his own escapades, Reuben was kind enough to have left behind the Poké Ball with his Golem, evidently having opted to bring his Houndour with him instead, premised on the assertion that chicks dug puppies more than they dug piles of rocks. Fortuitous, as Rachel would need Golem’s help today.
Strong, heavy Pokémon are often difficult to handle domestically, though Golem hadn't posed too many challenges for the family. Standing roughly at Rachel’s height, its body was encased in an orb-like shell, composed of pentagonal and hexagonal slabs of a stone with a greenish tint that jutted out from the center of its mass, the structure of which was reminiscent of clusters of Combee. Its stubby head and limbs were brown and coarse-textured, and little of its forelimbs or neck were visible outside of the shell. Though it had a large appetite, it was sated with rocks; the species is not carnivorous. Instead of dung, it excreted a gray silt-like substance, which was odorless and easy to sweep up. Reuben often brought Golem to an abandoned quarry west of Route 214 to feed, accompanied by Houndour and occasionally Rachel. Since Golem preferred rolling to walking, Reuben would regularly find himself escorting it down the quarry trail as it tumbled, gently pressing his fingertips into the crevices of the Pokémon’s rugged shell to guide its path. Reuben’s Golem was agreeable and polite, though it had a tendency to grandstand during battles, no doubt a behavior taught by its Trainer. Rachel had once seen it goad a group of Pokémon into surrounding it, only to surprise them by exploding before they could strike.
It was mid-morning, and Rachel had already reached the western pedestrian gate. With dull brown walls and dreary mauve floor tiles, it fulfilled the minimum requirements to exist as a liminal space between the wilderness of nature and the structure of urbanity. Under the dim fluorescent lighting, she stood to the right of the west exit, looking at the potted sapling in the corner, preparing herself for the trek ahead. No one else was here. On her right shoulder, Rachel wore a chic backpack purse, stitched in nut-brown leather. She swung it in front of her chest, unzipped it, and extracted a bright yellow rain poncho, still wrapped in plastic packaging. Rachel removed the packaging, which she crumpled up and tossed overhand in the trash can by the opposite wall. With some difficulty, she unfolded the poncho and pulled it over herself until it had unraveled down to her ankles, covering the blue t-shirt she was wearing such that it now appeared green and tinting her gray jeans as if they had been washed in deli mustard. The backpack was also covered by the poncho, and a light crumpling sound resulting from the two objects’ contact could be heard as she walked out the west exit onto Route 215.
The rain struck Rachel the moment she stepped outside. She felt the pitapat of precipitation pounding her poncho that now protected the possessions on her person. Gray clouds obscured the sky here constantly, forming an argentine stain on the western fringe of Veilstone’s skyline. Wind blustered against Rachel’s right side, reeking of the natural scents of damp flora. Unpleasant as it was for Rachel, this place couldn’t be that harsh if it was Marill’s habitat. The footpaths, worn by the downpour and pedestrian traffic, had long given up their topsoil, leaving travelers to trod a rocky road, winding through gaps in the southern cliff and bunchings of oak trees. Under the foliage cover of these trees clustered grasses and ferns, the root systems of which shackled the mire, holding it in place against the storm. Rachel looked down at her maroon rain boots, protruding from underneath the edge of the rain poncho, which would soon bear scars of dirt and grass smears. Was this what her mother had meant when she had insisted upon “sensible shoes” so many times before?
Near the cliffside to her left were a group of young men dressed in white, baggy clothes, practicing martial arts with their Fighting-type Pokémon. Were they disciples of Maylene, Veilstone’s Gym Leader? If so, why were they training out here, in the wind and the mud and the rain, instead of inside the Veilstone Gym? Were they trying to avoid Maylene? Would it be emasculating for them to be seen working out alongside a sinewy young girl with pink hair whose typical outfit was a tank top and sweatpants?
Rachel recognized one of their Pokémon, a bluish-gray humanoid creature with four arms called Machamp. While she had been ill and bedbound the previous weekend, Rachel had watched Maylene use it in an exhibition match on TV. In a stroke of tactical ingenuity, Maylene’s Machamp had assumed a crawling stance with its lower arms so it could use its upper arms to pummel the face of a quadrupedal Grass-type Pokémon, which had elicited a weak, sputtering cheer from Rachel in solidarity. Unfortunately, this posture had left the Machamp vulnerable, as its opponent swung around clockwise to deliver a counter-whack to the head using the tree on its back, which in turn induced Rachel to hock up a watery, pea green gob of mucus into a paper towel, still in solidarity with the then-defeated Machamp on TV. Unlike Maylene’s Machamp, the Pokémon training with the male martial artists here were all standing upright or crouching.
As Rachel set down the coarse path, she spotted a clearing beyond a line of trees to her right. There, a brush of tall grass swayed in the breeze. That must be where the Marill played and hid from humans. No tracks from the picnicking club's expedition were visible, but those would have been washed away by the storm. Rachel would venture into the tall grass in order to meet a Marill, just as the Trainers did, and like them, she'd have a Pokémon ready to assist her in battle. She wandered forward past the trees, wading into the grass, feeling its blades tickling her hands. This was exciting. Rachel could already imagine the adorable Marill jumping out, ready to embrace her as their Trainer. In the distance, a small brook trickled its way through the overgrowth. As she trudged further in, closer to the brook, she realized it was the same brook she’d seen in some of the photographs posted to the picnicking club’s blog, though a different area. Still, this must be the place.
Now it would be Golem’s time to shine. Rachel bent her arms over her shoulders and patted her trapezius. She felt her poncho draped over her backpack and realized that retrieving Golem’s Poké Ball would require a feat of minor finesse. To grab it, she'd need to swing the backpack around her chest yet again, holding it with her left arm, while withdrawing her right arm from the poncho’s sleeve, using her left hand to clutch the sleeve, then switch her left hand’s grip to the poncho material over the backpack so she could unzip the latter with her right hand, which would then retrieve the Poké Ball, and finally she could push her right arm back out through the right poncho sleeve. In retrospect, it may have been wiser for her to wear the backpack over the poncho, even if it would have gotten wet.
Rachel had only begun to withdraw her right arm into the sleeve of her poncho when she noticed the rustling. The drumbeat of the downpour was suppressing other environmental noises, but she could see grass shaking in the opposite direction of the wind. Something was following her. Whatever it was, it darted swiftly, circling Rachel, weaving around so as not to be exposed behind the tree stumps peppered around the area. It looked too large to be a Marill, and there was no tail with a blue ball at the tip. Rachel caught a glimpse of it. Its thin body was lime green. Definitely not a Marill. She cautiously pulled the zipper for the front pocket of the backpack to the right and reached her fingers in.
Now there was something else stumbling near from behind, more clumsy than that Pokémon. It was running frantically, and she heard a young woman’s yell.
“Move! It’s coming!”
Startled, the light green Pokémon leapt up. Rachel could see it more clearly, an insect-like Pokémon that stood on two legs whose elbows extended into huge knives. Its face was narrow and angular. Tucked behind its back were parchment-colored wings, smaller than its knives. Now it dashed further back. Was it running away?
“That Scyther is dangerous,” said the young woman. “Where’s your Pokémon?”
Rachel looked to her right and saw the young woman by her side. She was wearing one of those orange tracksuits with short sleeves and brown stitching, plus brown leggings for modesty, favored by Trainers who were desperate to be perceived as cool. Her green hip bag resting on her left matched the color of her shoulder-length hair, completing the look. Despite the surprise, she’d maintained her grasp of the Poké Ball, and could now culminate the retrieval. She extended her right arm through the poncho once more and tossed the Poké Ball underhand in the general direction of the Scyther.
“It’s here. Go, Golem!” Maya yelled.
The Pokémon appeared before them, crouching, with its right hand extended in front of it for dramatic effect. Then the hand faltered, the crouch eased, and Golem cringed, as the rain began soaking its shell. Rivulets of water formed in its crevices, which poured down and out onto the ground, instigating an irritating sensation for the creature. There would be no showboating today.
Reuben knew that Golem detested the rain, though Golem was used to battling regardless of the weather. The high-pitched call that summoned Golem was that of Rachel, however, not of Reuben. That concerned Golem. Where was Reuben? He didn’t seem to be around. Why did Rachel need Golem to battle on her behalf? Golem could only hope Reuben was unharmed.
The Scyther stared down its foe and threw itself forward. Now there was a Pokémon to battle. That shell would be tough to crack, but there had to be some kind of meat underneath. With a buzz, the Scyther twirled in the air, honing in on Golem, rushing ahead fearlessly. Now the Wing Attack struck, each wing’s costa thrust against Golem’s shell. The faces of the two Pokémon were a hair's breadth apart, each pair of eyes fixed on the other.
Golem stood firm, then shrugged and shoved forward. The Scyther went tumbling backwards, flailing through the mire. It beat its wings frantically, trying to keep itself from falling, desperately kicking its legs. Instead, it fell forward and jammed its scythes into muck as it fumbled to keep itself upright, which it accomplished once its lower legs sank in as well.
“Tell Golem to attack! What moves does it know?” asked the young woman.
Rachel thought for a moment. “Umm… Rock Attack?”
That seemed like it ought to be correct. Golem is a Rock-type Pokémon, and that sounded syntactically like the name of a Pokémon move. It could conceivably entail Golem attacking its opponent with a stone of some kind, or perhaps a boulder. Golem remained standing steadfast, though it cocked its head back towards Rachel confusedly. Maybe Golem hadn't learned that move yet.
“Golem, Rock Throw!” the young woman shouted.
This command Golem obliged. Squatting its knees, it turned its arms downward, pressed its hands into the mire, and drew a breath. Golem’s muscles bulged, tightened, strained under the weight of its body, as it sank slightly into the pliant earth, slipping slightly from the pouring rain. With a grunt, Golem heaved itself from the ground, stretching and spreading its limbs downward and outward, its head now facing downward and its mouth agape. A thunderclap punctured the air, and Golem, having propelled itself upward almost directly above Scyther, was momentarily illuminated by a flash of lightning in the distance.
Rachel pouted. Why did Golem listen to this person and not her? It was her brother's Pokémon, not this person’s brother's. This would have passed muster as a Rock Attack. It wasn't even a throw, despite the order the young woman had issued. Could this be Rock Attack after all, and Golem was disobeying this stranger?
Now that Golem had ascended, the moment had come for it to descend. This part of the maneuver was much easier to execute. Still reeling from its own strike, the Scyther craned its neck, glowering at the grinning Golem. The Scyther had planted its scythes in the mud in an attempt to stabilize itself, but it now realized its folly as it tried to extricate both its scythes and legs from the muck, furiously fluttering its wings, struggling to generate some momentum. Golem’s shadow grew larger and engulfed Scyther, and the rivulets of water flowing from Golem started to douse the insect Pokémon.
Golem crashed into the ground, as well as the Scyther between itself and the ground. Segments of Golem’s shell shifted downward, colliding with the segments underneath, closing the horizontal crevices and spurting the flowing rainwater outward. Dirt shifted perpendicular to the direction of Golem’s motion, pulsing away from the impact site. There was a crunching sound as the heavier, more dense Pokémon exoskeleton penetrated the lighter, less dense one. Before Golem’s exterior could be marred by exposure to the Scyther’s interior, the insect Pokémon’s body diminished into nothing, literally shrinking away from the battle so it could rest and recover. For Rachel, this was usually when she’d see the Pokémon would be flashed away into its Trainer’s Poké Ball, but this wild Scyther had no such capsule for safe harbor.
Rachel felt no sympathy for the defeated Pokémon. The Scyther had picked this fight, not her. “Sucks to suck, another dub for G.,” as Reuben was fond of saying. Instinctively, Rachel twisted her forearms up with her elbows and spread her palms flat, in imitation of her brother. The young woman shook her head, probably in condemnation of the Scyther’s dastardly attack. Golem rolled backward from the impact site, toward Rachel, and stood up. The rain was rinsing the detritus from its shell. Now the other girl spoke:
“That was intense. What’s your name?”
“I’m Rachel.”
“I’m Maya. What are you doing out here, Rachel?”
“Looking for Marill.”
“Well, you’re in a good spot. They like to play in the creek here. You gonna try to catch one?”
“Yeah.”
Before anything else, it would be a good idea to pull the backpack out from underneath the rain poncho. Rachel again methodically retracted her arms from the sleeves of the poncho, now pulling down the straps of the backpack so they would slide off her shoulders. The backpack plopped on the ground and Rachel picked up again, this time to wear over the rain poncho. Her backpack would get wet, but at least she’d be able to access it more easily. A few steps ahead was Golem’s Poké Ball, which she kneeled down to reclaim and store. Golem’s Poké Ball was the quintessential model, half red and half white, split by a black line, a circular white button overlaid in the center of the line. If nothing else, the rain had washed the muck off of it.
Rachel looked around. She was still in the clearing of grass she’d entered a few minutes ago, with Golem at her left and Maya at her right. Observing more carefully, she could see the bare patches that marked the locations of tree stumps in the field. Ahead of her, the grass gave way to a narrow strip of murky soil studded with mineral chunks. Beyond that was the brook, cleaving between the muck and the opposite bank.
Now Rachel and Golem ambled ahead. Maya stood behind them, maintaining watchful eyes. She didn’t seem eager to guide Rachel toward the Marill, but she wasn’t leaving Rachel to her own devices, either. Why even bother? Had someone appointed Maya to the position of interim mother? Rachel didn’t recall voting for her.
Maya had been correct about the creek being a good spot for Marill, though. It wasn’t more than half a minute of watching the brook’s left side before she spotted one floating lackadaisically on its back, led by the blue ball on its tail. The creek, which couldn't be deep enough for Rachel to dive into, rippled as the rain splashed into it. She wasn't quite sure if the Marill was awake until it washed up into the marsh and stood up. Its gaze turned slowly upwards, glancing past Maya and Golem, until it met Rachel's eyes and squeaked softly.
Just as cute as Rachel remembered. She was standing about twenty paces from the Marill. This was what she'd set out here for. Hard to tell from this distance, but it seemed a little larger than average for the species. The other girls would love cuddling it. Maya stepped forward, flanking Rachel's right side, her right hand clutching the hip bag.
“You want my help with this?” asked Maya.
“No, no, let me do it!” Rachel insisted.
Golem’s Rock Attack had completely crushed that Scyther. Rachel couldn’t bear the thought of this sweet, innocent Marill getting flattened. It would start sobbing, and then she’d start sobbing, and then Maya would start sobbing. It would be tragic, dreadful to hurt it with that kind of move. But it would need to be hurt, if only a little bit, and she trusted Golem to do so, albeit with a different move. Without meaning to, Rachel glanced up at Maya, expecting guidance after rejecting intervention. Maya glanced down, ready to guide but not intervene.
“What’s another move Golem has?” asked Rachel.
“How about Magnitude?” suggested Maya.
“Okay. Golem, use Magnitude!” came the command from Rachel.
As it did with Rock Throw, Golem leapt towards its opponent, though this time it had extended its left foot in front of itself, as if it were a Fighting-type Pokémon, raised by one of Maylene’s disciples, about to deliver a diving kick to the forehead of a challenger’s unprepared Pokémon. This descent was more deft than the previous one, as Golem forced its left heel into the ground, curled its left toes, then forced those into the ground as well. The tremor was subtle initially, but as Golem’s other limbs slammed into the earth, the quakes expanded. The brook babbled boisterously, sloshing and spouting over its banks. Across the field, the grass wriggled from the vibrations, though the embedded root systems, particularly those that spread from beneath the cut tree stumps, absorbed the brunt of the shock.
Once more, Rachel glanced up at Maya. Maya had drawn her right leg back so as to brace herself against Golem’s tremors, though she held her left arm away from her body, straight and rigid, her wrist bent slightly so her palm faced the ground. Rachel’s right hand grasped Maya’s left, if only so Rachel could steady herself as well.
The Marill had been tossed skyward. As the rumblings and convulsions of the environment around it faded away, it dropped unceremoniously into the ravaged earth, the dark jagged stones colliding with its fuzzy belly, blemishing that stark white dot with cherry-colored bruises. As it struggled to lift itself with its stubby blue arms to its stubby blue feet, Rachel could see its eyes squinted, threatening to start wailing at any moment.
She looked closer at the Marill. Something was dribbling from its mouth, not from its eyes. Was that foam? It was gurgling. Was it sick? Now it was sitting up, turning slightly to face Golem. Suddenly, the Marill spasmed, and a stream of clear bubbles burst from its mouth, aimed at the instigator of the Magnitude. Golem writhed as the bubbles popped against it. Mud began trickling from the crevices in its shell as the dry dust from within its body bled out and blended with the rainfall. This Marill’s BubbleBeam wasn’t particularly dense or sustained, but the added swell from the storm inflated the bubbles further. Still, Rachel probably could have taken the impact better than Golem had, what with her protective rain poncho.
Rachel was concerned, though. She hadn’t seen any Marill battle before, so she’d had no idea it was a Water type until now. As the attack subsided, she could see cracks spreading from impact craters on the segments of Golem’s shell. Depending on how long it took for those to heal, Reuben would certainly notice. Rachel had heard him mention that Golem was due to molt in a few months, and she worried that might be thrown off now.
“Did you bring a Poké Ball?” Maya asked.
“Yeah. It’s a good one,” answered Rachel.
“Now’s the time to throw it.”
From the backpack, now thoroughly drenched, Rachel plucked the Poké Ball she had bought for this purpose. This one was blue on the top and white on the bottom, like Marill. Two red convex grips streaked the ball’s top diagonally, resembling the insides of Marill’s ears. Rachel had picked it out at the Department Store, in spite of its higher price tag than the classic red-and-white model, specifically for its complementary color palette with Marill.
With her right eye shut and her tongue out, Rachel locked her left eye with the Marill’s and lobbed the blue Poké Ball at it. It had barely brushed the Marill’s left ear, but that was enough contact to trigger minimization. The Ball bounced away from the Marill and stopped in mid-air for a moment as the sealing line split open like a Clamperl. In a brief flash, the Marill was trapped inside. Rachel clenched her fists and held her breath as the Ball shook from Marill’s exertions, only relaxing once the Ball lay still. With a skip of glee, she bounced over and picked it up. She had what she’d come for now.
“Say ‘thank you’ to Golem,” suggested Maya. “It helped a lot today, and it got hurt badly for you.”
“Thank you, Golem,” commended Rachel.
Golem grunted and nodded curtly. Whatever would get it recalled to its Poké Ball sooner and out of the storm. The rain was becoming unbearable. If it spent longer out here, it felt as if it would crumble away and return to the earth. That would be a fine end for an older Golem if it weren't so damp and humid, but it wasn’t anywhere near that long in the tooth yet, and Reuben still needed it somewhere. All it wanted right now was to sit somewhere sunny and eat a big pile of gravel. Rachel clicked its Ball’s middle button and Golem was recalled to be stowed in her backpack once again.
“Alright, now that you’ve got it, let’s get you back,” proposed Maya.
Maya led the way, and Rachel tagged along behind. Rachel could have found her way back on her own, but even she knew that would be risky with Golem’s current condition. She noticed that Maya was walking adjacent to the side of the brook before turning right, following the treeline that formed the perimeter of the clearing. Rachel looked to her right, glancing at the tall grass once more. Were there more Scyther skulking there? Maybe Golem could handle another one if it needed to. She should’ve brought a Potion with her.
The pair of girls plodded awkwardly for a minute or so. “You followed me,” declared Rachel. They kept on plodding.
“Little kid walks right into a Scyther nest, you think I’m not gonna see what’s up?” Maya retorted. “You’re lucky there was just one there.”
“I would’ve been fine. I had Golem.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. That Scyther would’ve ripped you a new one.”
Rachel frowned. Ripped her a new what? She didn’t understand the expression. Besides, if it had been that dangerous, Maya should’ve been more responsible.
“Why didn’t you bring out your own Pokémon?” Rachel challenged.
“Wanted to see what you had on you. I would’ve if I’d needed to.”
That didn’t seem responsible of Maya. Either way, this conversation was boring Rachel. Her eyes wandered as they walked, settling on Maya’s calves. Through the tight fabric of the leggings, Rachel could see that Maya’s muscles were solid and well-defined, as expected for a Pokémon Trainer who was on her feet all day. Reuben’s legs were also athletic, though Maya clearly shaved her legs, unlike Reuben. Rachel didn't shave her legs, though she'd seen her mother shave her own legs once.
The two girls were past the treeline and Maya turned left, now leading Rachel back to the main road. Standing off to the left side of the road was a young man with green hair wearing an orange athletic shirt and brown pants. These looked to be the same brand as Maya’s clothes, and he even had the same bag on his right hip. He held an umbrella in his left hand with a small black canopy unfurled above him, which explained why his clothes were relatively dry. It seemed like he and Maya knew each other, since they each walked up towards the other to speak.
“You found her? What was she doing out there?” he asked.
“Looking for Marill. She got one and she’s still in one piece,” responded Maya.
Rachel was intrigued. Not just by the presence of a boy, but of one who knew Maya.
“Who are you?” Rachel asked him.
“I’m Dennis,“ he replied, extending his right arm towards Rachel. “And your name, miss?”
Rachel turned to Maya. The precise nature of her familiarity with Dennis must be ascertained.
“Is he your boyfriend?” Rachel inquired.
Maya shook her head stiffly. “He’s my sparring partner.”
“We’re training to take on Maylene,” Dennis chimed in. His right arm, which he withdrew, was now sopping wet. “I’d like to go to the Battle Zone eventually.”
“What’s the Battle Zone?” questioned Rachel.
“The island in the northern sea,” Dennis answered. “You haven’t seen the TV ads?”
Oh, that Battle Zone. Rachel had seen the commercial with that excitable blond guy in the olive green coat hyping it up. The footage showed Pokémon battles in modern buildings interspersed with wilderness and a huge mountain. Maybe Reuben should go there. Golem would enjoy munching on all the different rocks.
“Rachel, can you find your way home from here?” Maya asked. “Do you want us to help you find the Pokémon Center?”
“I’m good. Thank you,” said Rachel.
“We’ll be out here if you need us,” Maya offered.
“We’re staying at the Trainers’ Hostel, if you wanna swing by later,” added Dennis.
Rachel left the two Trainers behind and left Route 215 through the pedestrian gate. She took off her backpack so she could remove the rain poncho, which she pitched into the same trash can that held its packaging. It had done its job, and her clothes were mostly dry. Dennis seemed like a nice enough guy; he’d be good for Maya. Rachel walked outside the east exit, back to Veilstone City.
The sky here was overcast, which was vastly preferable to the weather on Route 215. Now that Rachel had returned from her quest, she might as well examine her spoils. Rachel reached into her backpack once more, found Marill’s Poké Ball, and let the Pokémon out. It sat on the concrete, still bruised, though less upset than it had been before she’d captured it. No matter; those wounds would be healed after a quick trip to the Pokémon Center. She looked down and thought she heard a faint rumbling sound. It was probably hungry. What did Marill eat, anyway? Rachel hoped it wasn't a carnivorous species. Maybe she could ask the Pokémon Center staff for some advice on how to care for it. Then what? A trip to the Department Store would likely be in order, since she wasn’t sure how much Pokémon food Reuben kept around. Would the leftover money from last week’s allowance be enough? She’d want lunch for herself as well. Maybe Marill would eat table scraps. Did they like rye bread?
Rachel eyed Marill again. What a pitiable creature. Did the other girls still think it was adorable? Would they still be enamored with it on Monday? Of course they would be. Everything she’d accomplish today would be because Marill was a cute Pokémon. Rachel was its Trainer now, and for her, it needed to be cute.
Content warnings: innuendo, mild Pokémon violence
Marill is a cute Pokémon. The female students in the third grade of Veilstone City’s Westwood Elementary School became aware of this objective, incontrovertible fact two weeks ago, after a student named Monique introduced the rest of the class to one individual captured by her older sister. Its spherical body was covered in smooth, fine fur, mostly aqua blue, with a large white dot marking the stomach, and its face featured beady eyes and a sweet smile. Protruding from its head just above 10 and 2 were a pair of flat ears, almost donut-shaped were it not for the red interiors. Monique’s was a smaller one, able to be scooped up and carried in a girl's arms with some effort, though a larger one could be cuddled on the floor if the girl bent down on her knees. At the tip of its jagged black tail was a squishy blue ball, which had inspired the name of a clique for those who adored Marill, the Blue Balls Group, which a number of the older boys had snickered at, presumably because they were bereft of the aesthetic taste necessary to adore Marill.
The picnicking club, chaperoned by their parents and their siblings and their parents’ Pokémon and their siblings’ Pokémon, had braved the relentless downpour on Route 215 the previous weekend in a joint expedition for the purpose of locating Marill in the tall grass, subduing them in combat with Pokémon, and capturing them with Poké Balls. Rachel had been unable to join them, as she had been stuck in bed with a terrible cold. For the past few days, Rachel could only partake in the zeitgeist by playing with other peoples’ Marill. These were not her own Marill whose bellies she tickled, whose heads she scratched, whose blue balls she squeezed, whose bodies she bounced, whose squeaks and squeals delighted her, and she bore no responsibility for their care or feeding when she returned to her own home. This state of affairs was abhorrent and contemptible. It was intolerable and inequitable that Rachel’s classmates could enjoy the cuteness of Marill without her present, and she had no choice but to remedy this injustice herself.
Today, Rachel's parents were out of town, visiting Sunyshore City for some conference or something. Reuben, Rachel's older brother, had been tasked with the oversight of his younger sister, but had no desire to fulfill that obligation, and was all too willing to leave his sister to what she would. In his haste to begin his own escapades, Reuben was kind enough to have left behind the Poké Ball with his Golem, evidently having opted to bring his Houndour with him instead, premised on the assertion that chicks dug puppies more than they dug piles of rocks. Fortuitous, as Rachel would need Golem’s help today.
Strong, heavy Pokémon are often difficult to handle domestically, though Golem hadn't posed too many challenges for the family. Standing roughly at Rachel’s height, its body was encased in an orb-like shell, composed of pentagonal and hexagonal slabs of a stone with a greenish tint that jutted out from the center of its mass, the structure of which was reminiscent of clusters of Combee. Its stubby head and limbs were brown and coarse-textured, and little of its forelimbs or neck were visible outside of the shell. Though it had a large appetite, it was sated with rocks; the species is not carnivorous. Instead of dung, it excreted a gray silt-like substance, which was odorless and easy to sweep up. Reuben often brought Golem to an abandoned quarry west of Route 214 to feed, accompanied by Houndour and occasionally Rachel. Since Golem preferred rolling to walking, Reuben would regularly find himself escorting it down the quarry trail as it tumbled, gently pressing his fingertips into the crevices of the Pokémon’s rugged shell to guide its path. Reuben’s Golem was agreeable and polite, though it had a tendency to grandstand during battles, no doubt a behavior taught by its Trainer. Rachel had once seen it goad a group of Pokémon into surrounding it, only to surprise them by exploding before they could strike.
It was mid-morning, and Rachel had already reached the western pedestrian gate. With dull brown walls and dreary mauve floor tiles, it fulfilled the minimum requirements to exist as a liminal space between the wilderness of nature and the structure of urbanity. Under the dim fluorescent lighting, she stood to the right of the west exit, looking at the potted sapling in the corner, preparing herself for the trek ahead. No one else was here. On her right shoulder, Rachel wore a chic backpack purse, stitched in nut-brown leather. She swung it in front of her chest, unzipped it, and extracted a bright yellow rain poncho, still wrapped in plastic packaging. Rachel removed the packaging, which she crumpled up and tossed overhand in the trash can by the opposite wall. With some difficulty, she unfolded the poncho and pulled it over herself until it had unraveled down to her ankles, covering the blue t-shirt she was wearing such that it now appeared green and tinting her gray jeans as if they had been washed in deli mustard. The backpack was also covered by the poncho, and a light crumpling sound resulting from the two objects’ contact could be heard as she walked out the west exit onto Route 215.
The rain struck Rachel the moment she stepped outside. She felt the pitapat of precipitation pounding her poncho that now protected the possessions on her person. Gray clouds obscured the sky here constantly, forming an argentine stain on the western fringe of Veilstone’s skyline. Wind blustered against Rachel’s right side, reeking of the natural scents of damp flora. Unpleasant as it was for Rachel, this place couldn’t be that harsh if it was Marill’s habitat. The footpaths, worn by the downpour and pedestrian traffic, had long given up their topsoil, leaving travelers to trod a rocky road, winding through gaps in the southern cliff and bunchings of oak trees. Under the foliage cover of these trees clustered grasses and ferns, the root systems of which shackled the mire, holding it in place against the storm. Rachel looked down at her maroon rain boots, protruding from underneath the edge of the rain poncho, which would soon bear scars of dirt and grass smears. Was this what her mother had meant when she had insisted upon “sensible shoes” so many times before?
Near the cliffside to her left were a group of young men dressed in white, baggy clothes, practicing martial arts with their Fighting-type Pokémon. Were they disciples of Maylene, Veilstone’s Gym Leader? If so, why were they training out here, in the wind and the mud and the rain, instead of inside the Veilstone Gym? Were they trying to avoid Maylene? Would it be emasculating for them to be seen working out alongside a sinewy young girl with pink hair whose typical outfit was a tank top and sweatpants?
Rachel recognized one of their Pokémon, a bluish-gray humanoid creature with four arms called Machamp. While she had been ill and bedbound the previous weekend, Rachel had watched Maylene use it in an exhibition match on TV. In a stroke of tactical ingenuity, Maylene’s Machamp had assumed a crawling stance with its lower arms so it could use its upper arms to pummel the face of a quadrupedal Grass-type Pokémon, which had elicited a weak, sputtering cheer from Rachel in solidarity. Unfortunately, this posture had left the Machamp vulnerable, as its opponent swung around clockwise to deliver a counter-whack to the head using the tree on its back, which in turn induced Rachel to hock up a watery, pea green gob of mucus into a paper towel, still in solidarity with the then-defeated Machamp on TV. Unlike Maylene’s Machamp, the Pokémon training with the male martial artists here were all standing upright or crouching.
As Rachel set down the coarse path, she spotted a clearing beyond a line of trees to her right. There, a brush of tall grass swayed in the breeze. That must be where the Marill played and hid from humans. No tracks from the picnicking club's expedition were visible, but those would have been washed away by the storm. Rachel would venture into the tall grass in order to meet a Marill, just as the Trainers did, and like them, she'd have a Pokémon ready to assist her in battle. She wandered forward past the trees, wading into the grass, feeling its blades tickling her hands. This was exciting. Rachel could already imagine the adorable Marill jumping out, ready to embrace her as their Trainer. In the distance, a small brook trickled its way through the overgrowth. As she trudged further in, closer to the brook, she realized it was the same brook she’d seen in some of the photographs posted to the picnicking club’s blog, though a different area. Still, this must be the place.
Now it would be Golem’s time to shine. Rachel bent her arms over her shoulders and patted her trapezius. She felt her poncho draped over her backpack and realized that retrieving Golem’s Poké Ball would require a feat of minor finesse. To grab it, she'd need to swing the backpack around her chest yet again, holding it with her left arm, while withdrawing her right arm from the poncho’s sleeve, using her left hand to clutch the sleeve, then switch her left hand’s grip to the poncho material over the backpack so she could unzip the latter with her right hand, which would then retrieve the Poké Ball, and finally she could push her right arm back out through the right poncho sleeve. In retrospect, it may have been wiser for her to wear the backpack over the poncho, even if it would have gotten wet.
Rachel had only begun to withdraw her right arm into the sleeve of her poncho when she noticed the rustling. The drumbeat of the downpour was suppressing other environmental noises, but she could see grass shaking in the opposite direction of the wind. Something was following her. Whatever it was, it darted swiftly, circling Rachel, weaving around so as not to be exposed behind the tree stumps peppered around the area. It looked too large to be a Marill, and there was no tail with a blue ball at the tip. Rachel caught a glimpse of it. Its thin body was lime green. Definitely not a Marill. She cautiously pulled the zipper for the front pocket of the backpack to the right and reached her fingers in.
Now there was something else stumbling near from behind, more clumsy than that Pokémon. It was running frantically, and she heard a young woman’s yell.
“Move! It’s coming!”
Startled, the light green Pokémon leapt up. Rachel could see it more clearly, an insect-like Pokémon that stood on two legs whose elbows extended into huge knives. Its face was narrow and angular. Tucked behind its back were parchment-colored wings, smaller than its knives. Now it dashed further back. Was it running away?
“That Scyther is dangerous,” said the young woman. “Where’s your Pokémon?”
Rachel looked to her right and saw the young woman by her side. She was wearing one of those orange tracksuits with short sleeves and brown stitching, plus brown leggings for modesty, favored by Trainers who were desperate to be perceived as cool. Her green hip bag resting on her left matched the color of her shoulder-length hair, completing the look. Despite the surprise, she’d maintained her grasp of the Poké Ball, and could now culminate the retrieval. She extended her right arm through the poncho once more and tossed the Poké Ball underhand in the general direction of the Scyther.
“It’s here. Go, Golem!” Maya yelled.
The Pokémon appeared before them, crouching, with its right hand extended in front of it for dramatic effect. Then the hand faltered, the crouch eased, and Golem cringed, as the rain began soaking its shell. Rivulets of water formed in its crevices, which poured down and out onto the ground, instigating an irritating sensation for the creature. There would be no showboating today.
Reuben knew that Golem detested the rain, though Golem was used to battling regardless of the weather. The high-pitched call that summoned Golem was that of Rachel, however, not of Reuben. That concerned Golem. Where was Reuben? He didn’t seem to be around. Why did Rachel need Golem to battle on her behalf? Golem could only hope Reuben was unharmed.
The Scyther stared down its foe and threw itself forward. Now there was a Pokémon to battle. That shell would be tough to crack, but there had to be some kind of meat underneath. With a buzz, the Scyther twirled in the air, honing in on Golem, rushing ahead fearlessly. Now the Wing Attack struck, each wing’s costa thrust against Golem’s shell. The faces of the two Pokémon were a hair's breadth apart, each pair of eyes fixed on the other.
Golem stood firm, then shrugged and shoved forward. The Scyther went tumbling backwards, flailing through the mire. It beat its wings frantically, trying to keep itself from falling, desperately kicking its legs. Instead, it fell forward and jammed its scythes into muck as it fumbled to keep itself upright, which it accomplished once its lower legs sank in as well.
“Tell Golem to attack! What moves does it know?” asked the young woman.
Rachel thought for a moment. “Umm… Rock Attack?”
That seemed like it ought to be correct. Golem is a Rock-type Pokémon, and that sounded syntactically like the name of a Pokémon move. It could conceivably entail Golem attacking its opponent with a stone of some kind, or perhaps a boulder. Golem remained standing steadfast, though it cocked its head back towards Rachel confusedly. Maybe Golem hadn't learned that move yet.
“Golem, Rock Throw!” the young woman shouted.
This command Golem obliged. Squatting its knees, it turned its arms downward, pressed its hands into the mire, and drew a breath. Golem’s muscles bulged, tightened, strained under the weight of its body, as it sank slightly into the pliant earth, slipping slightly from the pouring rain. With a grunt, Golem heaved itself from the ground, stretching and spreading its limbs downward and outward, its head now facing downward and its mouth agape. A thunderclap punctured the air, and Golem, having propelled itself upward almost directly above Scyther, was momentarily illuminated by a flash of lightning in the distance.
Rachel pouted. Why did Golem listen to this person and not her? It was her brother's Pokémon, not this person’s brother's. This would have passed muster as a Rock Attack. It wasn't even a throw, despite the order the young woman had issued. Could this be Rock Attack after all, and Golem was disobeying this stranger?
Now that Golem had ascended, the moment had come for it to descend. This part of the maneuver was much easier to execute. Still reeling from its own strike, the Scyther craned its neck, glowering at the grinning Golem. The Scyther had planted its scythes in the mud in an attempt to stabilize itself, but it now realized its folly as it tried to extricate both its scythes and legs from the muck, furiously fluttering its wings, struggling to generate some momentum. Golem’s shadow grew larger and engulfed Scyther, and the rivulets of water flowing from Golem started to douse the insect Pokémon.
Golem crashed into the ground, as well as the Scyther between itself and the ground. Segments of Golem’s shell shifted downward, colliding with the segments underneath, closing the horizontal crevices and spurting the flowing rainwater outward. Dirt shifted perpendicular to the direction of Golem’s motion, pulsing away from the impact site. There was a crunching sound as the heavier, more dense Pokémon exoskeleton penetrated the lighter, less dense one. Before Golem’s exterior could be marred by exposure to the Scyther’s interior, the insect Pokémon’s body diminished into nothing, literally shrinking away from the battle so it could rest and recover. For Rachel, this was usually when she’d see the Pokémon would be flashed away into its Trainer’s Poké Ball, but this wild Scyther had no such capsule for safe harbor.
Rachel felt no sympathy for the defeated Pokémon. The Scyther had picked this fight, not her. “Sucks to suck, another dub for G.,” as Reuben was fond of saying. Instinctively, Rachel twisted her forearms up with her elbows and spread her palms flat, in imitation of her brother. The young woman shook her head, probably in condemnation of the Scyther’s dastardly attack. Golem rolled backward from the impact site, toward Rachel, and stood up. The rain was rinsing the detritus from its shell. Now the other girl spoke:
“That was intense. What’s your name?”
“I’m Rachel.”
“I’m Maya. What are you doing out here, Rachel?”
“Looking for Marill.”
“Well, you’re in a good spot. They like to play in the creek here. You gonna try to catch one?”
“Yeah.”
Before anything else, it would be a good idea to pull the backpack out from underneath the rain poncho. Rachel again methodically retracted her arms from the sleeves of the poncho, now pulling down the straps of the backpack so they would slide off her shoulders. The backpack plopped on the ground and Rachel picked up again, this time to wear over the rain poncho. Her backpack would get wet, but at least she’d be able to access it more easily. A few steps ahead was Golem’s Poké Ball, which she kneeled down to reclaim and store. Golem’s Poké Ball was the quintessential model, half red and half white, split by a black line, a circular white button overlaid in the center of the line. If nothing else, the rain had washed the muck off of it.
Rachel looked around. She was still in the clearing of grass she’d entered a few minutes ago, with Golem at her left and Maya at her right. Observing more carefully, she could see the bare patches that marked the locations of tree stumps in the field. Ahead of her, the grass gave way to a narrow strip of murky soil studded with mineral chunks. Beyond that was the brook, cleaving between the muck and the opposite bank.
Now Rachel and Golem ambled ahead. Maya stood behind them, maintaining watchful eyes. She didn’t seem eager to guide Rachel toward the Marill, but she wasn’t leaving Rachel to her own devices, either. Why even bother? Had someone appointed Maya to the position of interim mother? Rachel didn’t recall voting for her.
Maya had been correct about the creek being a good spot for Marill, though. It wasn’t more than half a minute of watching the brook’s left side before she spotted one floating lackadaisically on its back, led by the blue ball on its tail. The creek, which couldn't be deep enough for Rachel to dive into, rippled as the rain splashed into it. She wasn't quite sure if the Marill was awake until it washed up into the marsh and stood up. Its gaze turned slowly upwards, glancing past Maya and Golem, until it met Rachel's eyes and squeaked softly.
Just as cute as Rachel remembered. She was standing about twenty paces from the Marill. This was what she'd set out here for. Hard to tell from this distance, but it seemed a little larger than average for the species. The other girls would love cuddling it. Maya stepped forward, flanking Rachel's right side, her right hand clutching the hip bag.
“You want my help with this?” asked Maya.
“No, no, let me do it!” Rachel insisted.
Golem’s Rock Attack had completely crushed that Scyther. Rachel couldn’t bear the thought of this sweet, innocent Marill getting flattened. It would start sobbing, and then she’d start sobbing, and then Maya would start sobbing. It would be tragic, dreadful to hurt it with that kind of move. But it would need to be hurt, if only a little bit, and she trusted Golem to do so, albeit with a different move. Without meaning to, Rachel glanced up at Maya, expecting guidance after rejecting intervention. Maya glanced down, ready to guide but not intervene.
“What’s another move Golem has?” asked Rachel.
“How about Magnitude?” suggested Maya.
“Okay. Golem, use Magnitude!” came the command from Rachel.
As it did with Rock Throw, Golem leapt towards its opponent, though this time it had extended its left foot in front of itself, as if it were a Fighting-type Pokémon, raised by one of Maylene’s disciples, about to deliver a diving kick to the forehead of a challenger’s unprepared Pokémon. This descent was more deft than the previous one, as Golem forced its left heel into the ground, curled its left toes, then forced those into the ground as well. The tremor was subtle initially, but as Golem’s other limbs slammed into the earth, the quakes expanded. The brook babbled boisterously, sloshing and spouting over its banks. Across the field, the grass wriggled from the vibrations, though the embedded root systems, particularly those that spread from beneath the cut tree stumps, absorbed the brunt of the shock.
Once more, Rachel glanced up at Maya. Maya had drawn her right leg back so as to brace herself against Golem’s tremors, though she held her left arm away from her body, straight and rigid, her wrist bent slightly so her palm faced the ground. Rachel’s right hand grasped Maya’s left, if only so Rachel could steady herself as well.
The Marill had been tossed skyward. As the rumblings and convulsions of the environment around it faded away, it dropped unceremoniously into the ravaged earth, the dark jagged stones colliding with its fuzzy belly, blemishing that stark white dot with cherry-colored bruises. As it struggled to lift itself with its stubby blue arms to its stubby blue feet, Rachel could see its eyes squinted, threatening to start wailing at any moment.
She looked closer at the Marill. Something was dribbling from its mouth, not from its eyes. Was that foam? It was gurgling. Was it sick? Now it was sitting up, turning slightly to face Golem. Suddenly, the Marill spasmed, and a stream of clear bubbles burst from its mouth, aimed at the instigator of the Magnitude. Golem writhed as the bubbles popped against it. Mud began trickling from the crevices in its shell as the dry dust from within its body bled out and blended with the rainfall. This Marill’s BubbleBeam wasn’t particularly dense or sustained, but the added swell from the storm inflated the bubbles further. Still, Rachel probably could have taken the impact better than Golem had, what with her protective rain poncho.
Rachel was concerned, though. She hadn’t seen any Marill battle before, so she’d had no idea it was a Water type until now. As the attack subsided, she could see cracks spreading from impact craters on the segments of Golem’s shell. Depending on how long it took for those to heal, Reuben would certainly notice. Rachel had heard him mention that Golem was due to molt in a few months, and she worried that might be thrown off now.
“Did you bring a Poké Ball?” Maya asked.
“Yeah. It’s a good one,” answered Rachel.
“Now’s the time to throw it.”
From the backpack, now thoroughly drenched, Rachel plucked the Poké Ball she had bought for this purpose. This one was blue on the top and white on the bottom, like Marill. Two red convex grips streaked the ball’s top diagonally, resembling the insides of Marill’s ears. Rachel had picked it out at the Department Store, in spite of its higher price tag than the classic red-and-white model, specifically for its complementary color palette with Marill.
With her right eye shut and her tongue out, Rachel locked her left eye with the Marill’s and lobbed the blue Poké Ball at it. It had barely brushed the Marill’s left ear, but that was enough contact to trigger minimization. The Ball bounced away from the Marill and stopped in mid-air for a moment as the sealing line split open like a Clamperl. In a brief flash, the Marill was trapped inside. Rachel clenched her fists and held her breath as the Ball shook from Marill’s exertions, only relaxing once the Ball lay still. With a skip of glee, she bounced over and picked it up. She had what she’d come for now.
“Say ‘thank you’ to Golem,” suggested Maya. “It helped a lot today, and it got hurt badly for you.”
“Thank you, Golem,” commended Rachel.
Golem grunted and nodded curtly. Whatever would get it recalled to its Poké Ball sooner and out of the storm. The rain was becoming unbearable. If it spent longer out here, it felt as if it would crumble away and return to the earth. That would be a fine end for an older Golem if it weren't so damp and humid, but it wasn’t anywhere near that long in the tooth yet, and Reuben still needed it somewhere. All it wanted right now was to sit somewhere sunny and eat a big pile of gravel. Rachel clicked its Ball’s middle button and Golem was recalled to be stowed in her backpack once again.
“Alright, now that you’ve got it, let’s get you back,” proposed Maya.
Maya led the way, and Rachel tagged along behind. Rachel could have found her way back on her own, but even she knew that would be risky with Golem’s current condition. She noticed that Maya was walking adjacent to the side of the brook before turning right, following the treeline that formed the perimeter of the clearing. Rachel looked to her right, glancing at the tall grass once more. Were there more Scyther skulking there? Maybe Golem could handle another one if it needed to. She should’ve brought a Potion with her.
The pair of girls plodded awkwardly for a minute or so. “You followed me,” declared Rachel. They kept on plodding.
“Little kid walks right into a Scyther nest, you think I’m not gonna see what’s up?” Maya retorted. “You’re lucky there was just one there.”
“I would’ve been fine. I had Golem.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. That Scyther would’ve ripped you a new one.”
Rachel frowned. Ripped her a new what? She didn’t understand the expression. Besides, if it had been that dangerous, Maya should’ve been more responsible.
“Why didn’t you bring out your own Pokémon?” Rachel challenged.
“Wanted to see what you had on you. I would’ve if I’d needed to.”
That didn’t seem responsible of Maya. Either way, this conversation was boring Rachel. Her eyes wandered as they walked, settling on Maya’s calves. Through the tight fabric of the leggings, Rachel could see that Maya’s muscles were solid and well-defined, as expected for a Pokémon Trainer who was on her feet all day. Reuben’s legs were also athletic, though Maya clearly shaved her legs, unlike Reuben. Rachel didn't shave her legs, though she'd seen her mother shave her own legs once.
The two girls were past the treeline and Maya turned left, now leading Rachel back to the main road. Standing off to the left side of the road was a young man with green hair wearing an orange athletic shirt and brown pants. These looked to be the same brand as Maya’s clothes, and he even had the same bag on his right hip. He held an umbrella in his left hand with a small black canopy unfurled above him, which explained why his clothes were relatively dry. It seemed like he and Maya knew each other, since they each walked up towards the other to speak.
“You found her? What was she doing out there?” he asked.
“Looking for Marill. She got one and she’s still in one piece,” responded Maya.
Rachel was intrigued. Not just by the presence of a boy, but of one who knew Maya.
“Who are you?” Rachel asked him.
“I’m Dennis,“ he replied, extending his right arm towards Rachel. “And your name, miss?”
Rachel turned to Maya. The precise nature of her familiarity with Dennis must be ascertained.
“Is he your boyfriend?” Rachel inquired.
Maya shook her head stiffly. “He’s my sparring partner.”
“We’re training to take on Maylene,” Dennis chimed in. His right arm, which he withdrew, was now sopping wet. “I’d like to go to the Battle Zone eventually.”
“What’s the Battle Zone?” questioned Rachel.
“The island in the northern sea,” Dennis answered. “You haven’t seen the TV ads?”
Oh, that Battle Zone. Rachel had seen the commercial with that excitable blond guy in the olive green coat hyping it up. The footage showed Pokémon battles in modern buildings interspersed with wilderness and a huge mountain. Maybe Reuben should go there. Golem would enjoy munching on all the different rocks.
“Rachel, can you find your way home from here?” Maya asked. “Do you want us to help you find the Pokémon Center?”
“I’m good. Thank you,” said Rachel.
“We’ll be out here if you need us,” Maya offered.
“We’re staying at the Trainers’ Hostel, if you wanna swing by later,” added Dennis.
Rachel left the two Trainers behind and left Route 215 through the pedestrian gate. She took off her backpack so she could remove the rain poncho, which she pitched into the same trash can that held its packaging. It had done its job, and her clothes were mostly dry. Dennis seemed like a nice enough guy; he’d be good for Maya. Rachel walked outside the east exit, back to Veilstone City.
The sky here was overcast, which was vastly preferable to the weather on Route 215. Now that Rachel had returned from her quest, she might as well examine her spoils. Rachel reached into her backpack once more, found Marill’s Poké Ball, and let the Pokémon out. It sat on the concrete, still bruised, though less upset than it had been before she’d captured it. No matter; those wounds would be healed after a quick trip to the Pokémon Center. She looked down and thought she heard a faint rumbling sound. It was probably hungry. What did Marill eat, anyway? Rachel hoped it wasn't a carnivorous species. Maybe she could ask the Pokémon Center staff for some advice on how to care for it. Then what? A trip to the Department Store would likely be in order, since she wasn’t sure how much Pokémon food Reuben kept around. Would the leftover money from last week’s allowance be enough? She’d want lunch for herself as well. Maybe Marill would eat table scraps. Did they like rye bread?
Rachel eyed Marill again. What a pitiable creature. Did the other girls still think it was adorable? Would they still be enamored with it on Monday? Of course they would be. Everything she’d accomplish today would be because Marill was a cute Pokémon. Rachel was its Trainer now, and for her, it needed to be cute.
Last edited:
