Home
This is a oneshot about a friend of ours who I believe you may well be familiar with, in honour of HG&SS being announced. Enjoy!
~~~~~
“I challenge you to a battle!” There they were, those six magic words. A simple string of syllables, spoken in the right sequence, was all they really were. I knew that. But to me – and, I’m sure, to every other Pokémon Trainer in the world – those words were the most important ones on the planet. They defined me. As a Pokémon Trainer, that’s what I do; I battle.
As a Pokémon Trainer does battle, he is carrying on an ageless tradition. Nobody really knows the origin of Pokémon battling. Some say it has been happening since the dawn of time. More practical souls suggest it started when Pokémon and humans first met. I say it doesn’t matter. The battle is an endless cycle. Trainer and Pokémon, Pokémon and Trainer, melding into each other, becoming indistinguishable from one another. Not physically, but mentally. When a Trainer and his Pokémon are in perfect sync, it is as if their minds become one.
“Very well,” I said, calm on the surface, yet within, surging with excitement. “I accept your challenge. Three Pokémon each?”
“Sounds good.” After those words, I lost interest in the opponent. All that mattered was the battle. There was a referee, I dimly recall. Coloured flags. It didn’t matter. All of my focus was on the battlefield in front of me.
“Go, Ninjask!” I called. My first Pokémon – my customary team leader – coalesced in front of me and hung, buzzing softly, in the air, awaiting orders. The opponent smiled and called out his Quilava. Evidently, he hoped to overwhelm my bugs with a type advantage. Oh, he was sorely mistaken. Taking the initiative, he ordered his Quilava forward for a Flame Wheel. Ninjask and I let it approach. He didn’t let it approach. I didn’t either. We did. At the last second, without even needing to be told, Ninjask zipped nimbly out of the way. Right at the moment when I would have, had I been in his place.
But I was in his place, just as much as he was in mine. Ninjask and I were one, seeming to dodge and spin together as the boy and his Quilava desperately tried to overwhelm us with the pure, burning heat of fire. Brute force was never the answer. Once upon a time, I – we – had thought that too, but we were wiser now. We had learned the value of working as a team; not just a team, but a perfect unit.
After a minute or two, I decided that it was time to finish it. Ninjask agreed with me. I barely needed to give commands, but I did so anyway, out of pure habit.
“Ninjask, X-Scissor,” I said quietly. Claws glowing as it dodged yet another Flame Wheel, Ninjask crossed them in front of us and slammed them into his opponent. Our opponent. At that moment, that inestimable moment of absolute power and control, our minds melded, becoming one. Yet again, I had achieved that highest level of bonding with my Pokémon. Ninjask dived and swerved; I dived and swerved, at least in my mind. I watched with satisfaction as the Trainer recalled his unconscious Quilava; Ninjask watched with the same.
Another opponent was sent out. A Hoothoot this time. Again, a Pokémon with a type advantage. At least this challenger had done his homework. Even as I revelled in the level of my almost symbiotic bond with Ninjask, I decided he should rest. Not that he needed it, but having experienced it once, I was hungry for more, different bonds, with all my Pokémon.
“Ninjask, Baton Pass,” I said calmly. “Come on out, Scyther.” Scyther, my oldest and most faithful friend, appeared on the field. It needed relatively little effort to achieve the connection this time; we had done it so often before.
Again, the Trainer chose to attack over and over again with the same move. This time it was Peck, which was also an attack which my Pokémon were weak to. It didn’t matter. We were strong enough to take it. Scyther, knowing exactly what to do without me needing to say it, slipped easily out of the way of attack after attack. He didn’t have the pure speed of Ninjask, but he didn’t need it. We didn’t need it. As long as we were linked, all we needed was that feeling of being connected, inseparable, and we would have the strength to triumph.
Scyther slashed at the foe. Or was it me? Either way, it didn’t matter. The Hoothoot went flying backwards, and again we revelled in the feeling of power. Smiling, we readied ourselves for the next opponent . . . but none was forthcoming. The kid threw in the towel. I nodded in acceptance of his surrender. As the heat of battle faded, I felt our connection slowly dissolving. I returned Scyther, and it disappeared completely. As I always did after a battle, I felt a momentary sense of horrible aloneness, but quickly shook it off. It was all right. It would happen again, the very next time I did battle.
Until then, I went to polish my collection of Hive Badges, just in case somebody managed to beat me one day. Not that I was overconfident, but I hadn’t given away a badge since I changed my battling style. Looking up at the clear blue skies of Azalea Town thoughtfully, I wondered if there existed a Trainer that could give me a run for my money.
I sure hoped so. To this day, I have not found him. Is it you?
~~~~~
What do you think?
~~~~~
Bugging Me
“I challenge you to a battle!” There they were, those six magic words. A simple string of syllables, spoken in the right sequence, was all they really were. I knew that. But to me – and, I’m sure, to every other Pokémon Trainer in the world – those words were the most important ones on the planet. They defined me. As a Pokémon Trainer, that’s what I do; I battle.
As a Pokémon Trainer does battle, he is carrying on an ageless tradition. Nobody really knows the origin of Pokémon battling. Some say it has been happening since the dawn of time. More practical souls suggest it started when Pokémon and humans first met. I say it doesn’t matter. The battle is an endless cycle. Trainer and Pokémon, Pokémon and Trainer, melding into each other, becoming indistinguishable from one another. Not physically, but mentally. When a Trainer and his Pokémon are in perfect sync, it is as if their minds become one.
“Very well,” I said, calm on the surface, yet within, surging with excitement. “I accept your challenge. Three Pokémon each?”
“Sounds good.” After those words, I lost interest in the opponent. All that mattered was the battle. There was a referee, I dimly recall. Coloured flags. It didn’t matter. All of my focus was on the battlefield in front of me.
“Go, Ninjask!” I called. My first Pokémon – my customary team leader – coalesced in front of me and hung, buzzing softly, in the air, awaiting orders. The opponent smiled and called out his Quilava. Evidently, he hoped to overwhelm my bugs with a type advantage. Oh, he was sorely mistaken. Taking the initiative, he ordered his Quilava forward for a Flame Wheel. Ninjask and I let it approach. He didn’t let it approach. I didn’t either. We did. At the last second, without even needing to be told, Ninjask zipped nimbly out of the way. Right at the moment when I would have, had I been in his place.
But I was in his place, just as much as he was in mine. Ninjask and I were one, seeming to dodge and spin together as the boy and his Quilava desperately tried to overwhelm us with the pure, burning heat of fire. Brute force was never the answer. Once upon a time, I – we – had thought that too, but we were wiser now. We had learned the value of working as a team; not just a team, but a perfect unit.
After a minute or two, I decided that it was time to finish it. Ninjask agreed with me. I barely needed to give commands, but I did so anyway, out of pure habit.
“Ninjask, X-Scissor,” I said quietly. Claws glowing as it dodged yet another Flame Wheel, Ninjask crossed them in front of us and slammed them into his opponent. Our opponent. At that moment, that inestimable moment of absolute power and control, our minds melded, becoming one. Yet again, I had achieved that highest level of bonding with my Pokémon. Ninjask dived and swerved; I dived and swerved, at least in my mind. I watched with satisfaction as the Trainer recalled his unconscious Quilava; Ninjask watched with the same.
Another opponent was sent out. A Hoothoot this time. Again, a Pokémon with a type advantage. At least this challenger had done his homework. Even as I revelled in the level of my almost symbiotic bond with Ninjask, I decided he should rest. Not that he needed it, but having experienced it once, I was hungry for more, different bonds, with all my Pokémon.
“Ninjask, Baton Pass,” I said calmly. “Come on out, Scyther.” Scyther, my oldest and most faithful friend, appeared on the field. It needed relatively little effort to achieve the connection this time; we had done it so often before.
Again, the Trainer chose to attack over and over again with the same move. This time it was Peck, which was also an attack which my Pokémon were weak to. It didn’t matter. We were strong enough to take it. Scyther, knowing exactly what to do without me needing to say it, slipped easily out of the way of attack after attack. He didn’t have the pure speed of Ninjask, but he didn’t need it. We didn’t need it. As long as we were linked, all we needed was that feeling of being connected, inseparable, and we would have the strength to triumph.
Scyther slashed at the foe. Or was it me? Either way, it didn’t matter. The Hoothoot went flying backwards, and again we revelled in the feeling of power. Smiling, we readied ourselves for the next opponent . . . but none was forthcoming. The kid threw in the towel. I nodded in acceptance of his surrender. As the heat of battle faded, I felt our connection slowly dissolving. I returned Scyther, and it disappeared completely. As I always did after a battle, I felt a momentary sense of horrible aloneness, but quickly shook it off. It was all right. It would happen again, the very next time I did battle.
Until then, I went to polish my collection of Hive Badges, just in case somebody managed to beat me one day. Not that I was overconfident, but I hadn’t given away a badge since I changed my battling style. Looking up at the clear blue skies of Azalea Town thoughtfully, I wondered if there existed a Trainer that could give me a run for my money.
I sure hoped so. To this day, I have not found him. Is it you?
~~~~~
What do you think?
Thank you! Bugsy is just my absolute favourite Gym Leader, for obvious reasons (BUG!), so I thought I'd write a oneshot about him. It was fun, though, so I'm doing more. Falkner will be next!
