Shadow
The story of a timid Dratini, caught as a Game Corner prize, who finds the perfect human trainer and, to his great distress, falls in love with her.

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Thumbnail art by kenket, used with permission
I hate writing battle scenes ...


___ Level 25 [continued] ___

The gym filled up with red light, all the way to the ceiling, he imagined, and—oh, but it wasn’t right, he thought, such a difference in powers! The Steelix straightened up, leering over Tanwen, larger even than Runa suggested, indicating by a street lamp (some word came to mind he didn’t recall)—surely it was really Jasmine’s old veteran? And did Tanwen shiver? Certainly Dyna bit her finger. Was it very rotten, now, to be glad he wasn’t battling?

But fearlessly, madly he thought, Tanwen rushed forward, seemed to be blowing steam from her nose. And this (it must be said) was a problem with Runa’s method: give a rash or hot-headed Pokémon full liberty, one whose pride took over, and she was liable to fly off in battle and act her nature. Five days ago she lost a spar to Gaia and, when Runa stepped out, she lost her head. —I should’ve been a Typhlosion months ago, she said; you’re all wet next to me. (And Dyna told her to take a swim and feel better; but if not for him, she’d be quite evolved.)

Forsyth said, “Rock Tomb!”

The Steelix turned, and speared his tail into the ground, the lurch passing all the way through the arena—now several boulders burst through the ground, all around Tanwen. They were going to close in and crush her!—but some gap she found, and shot out, landing on fours again. One had to have struck her—could she still use the fire?—she seemed to favour one side, but not enough to stop her leaping onto the boulder, and there was the flame, from her mouth this time. And the Steelix turned, used the last of his motion to pull the boulders down, break them all to pebbles beneath her, but she already jumped and, there, let go the ember—struck the Steelix in the middle. But how, he thought, flattening his flares, how were some species built in such a way without going crazy? for the Steelix produced such a screeching noise, turned his own metal parts as if to grind up Tanwen who landed on him, and turning he launched her—threw her farther than she expected, right through the air, and—oh! she landed roughly on the stone, half the floor away.

Dyna grabbed him, said she couldn’t watch but continued—if not in the fall then the boulder, what she seemed to shrug off, must have been worse than it looked, for now Tanwen was sluggish. But if Tanwen didn’t strike first (for the Steelix still looked healthy), if Gaia hadn’t enough advantage (a Dratini, next to that!)—

Forsyth said, “Rock Throw!”

But that wasn’t a certain move, he thought. It was down to the Steelix’s judgement, guessing where she went. The giant Pokémon punched the ground several times with his tail (menacing, was the word), broke up stones to throw. Yet for all her difficulty, Tanwen was really exceptional: a product of centuries’ breeding at the Hoenn estate, yes, but close to a year in training as well, the most driven of all of them—breeding didn’t guarantee that. No, it was speed, rushing behind cover, the Steelix watching and tracking her, that was always her weakness, and now she was injured on top. So her judgement must make it up, what Runa`s method allowed them; and turning at the base of a boulder, changing her course so that even from his clear vantage he couldn’t see where she was headed, and now she started up the fire—darted up the side, leapt toward the Steelix and—

But that was impossible; it was cheating. Steelix were over a thousand pounds, thirty feet long or more, yet here he spun in one second, flung a stone with his tail and seemed to pluck Tanwen right from the air—her breath a little spout of flame behind her, falling right across the arena into the floor.

He couldn’t look—there was an awful crack, the rock shattering to pieces surely. It wasn’t possible Tan survived: just now he heard her die directly. But Runa moved, ran toward her; and there he saw Tanwen shuddering in a heap of pebbles and, trying once to stand, falling faint.

Of course what energies filled Pokémon didn’t allow one to die from simple rock—not like humans, Runa standing near, always the fear of that—but pain, surely, was no more muted. To think some humans, some Pokémon even thought it fond to battle like this! Runa crouched over Tanwen and applied the revival fragment, the bit of energy. This what what she feared all the time, why she avoided the gyms; hated battles just the same as him but Tanwen didn’t understand, only wanted titles like Runa’s sister, something famous and demonstrative of power. And becoming a champion necessarily involved a thousand broken and battered Pokémon behind you—and this, he thought, was considered a pride-worthy thing!

“You did brilliantly, Tan,” she said.

Tanwen looked away. It was rotten to be mean in thinking, he thought, when she was the one suffering, but Tanwen wouldn’t grow from any of it. Tomorrow she would say circumstance was against her, that the floor was badly laid, too many well-formed boulders inside it; only her second faint ever; didn’t mean anything. But if Gaia failed it would be bad character.

Runa looked at Gaia; Dyna itched herself all over. If Gaia failed to finish the Steelix, entirely immune to electricity … It was pointless and horrible, just throwing them out to faint, Runa would say.

She put her hand on Gaia, and said, “It’s your decision.”

Gaia nodded; didn’t seem to see Runa’s own doubt. She was in the Olivine papers a couple days ago: a remarkably rare dragon, they called her. (Later the copy went up in flames; —Oh, what a sunny day, Tanwen said, still brooding over the spar.) She was the best argument against his burdening Runa, that she already had such a better Dratini. But she would finish the battle, yes; she would knock out the Steelix in a single move.

On the ground she looked down; with her instruction he could lightly feel it now as well, the waters far below. And Gaia was so practised now she took only moments to force it up, to fissure the rock: she began to sway, to pull the water.

Forsyth said, “Steelix, Sandstorm!”

At once the Steelix whipped the nearest boulder, pulverised it into dust, and with a great bellow drew it all up, swirling over the arena floor. But Runa warned about this sort of tactic: the son of Jasmine meant to slow the water itself, all this clever experience his mother taught him, make it impossible for Gaia to lift.

From the fissures water produced in jets, and—oh! Gaia leapt into one, and what was she thinking?—carried away up in an arc, up to the top of the arena, as if she flew! She turned toward the Steelix. But now she was shielded from the grit and sand. Only a clever Pokémon could think of it, knowing how it felt to be in water, controlling it; only Runa’s method allowed that.

The water was absorbing the sandstorm, and now it turned filthy, seemed more viscous and congealed. Could Gaia see with such grit in her eyes? might it, in fact, fall down around her, too heavy to hold a boulder’s worth on top? But she only had to turn downward to land a terrific blow—

Forsyth said, “Steelix, use Dragon Breath!”

Oh! he thought—that was that they hoped he’d never call. A better dragon than himself, the Steelix was, if he could do that; the beam would shred the water apart, ruin the whole attack!

But now the water came tumbling down toward its target, Gaia directing it. The Steelix’s mouth filled with a sort of yellow smoke, about to burn her, about to punch the water apart and ruin—oh! the water split in two arcs, and there was Gaia in the air! But she exposed herself directly, let the water carry ahead and pulled it either way, saved it from the Dragon Breath. The Steelix let it out, a jet of yellow smoke—the water curled in and clapped either side the face, knocked the Steelix right back and cut the beam off directly, a perfect hit!—but where was Gaia? But what breath the Steelix got out struck her squarely: that was her tumbling away inside the smoke like a Weedle, all her skin burning off, he felt. She smacked flat into the rock; fainted, he knew, at once; and there the Steelix was still up, grinding and shaking off water—still in, and Gaia fainted in the most horrible way, her first faint, her record ruined.

But Gaia had not fainted. She hardly moved, but she survived that—bowled right across the arena and she was still conscious! But now the paralysis had set, it seemed: she shuddered, looked up at Runa.

Looking across the arena, Runa said, “I’m withdrawing!”

Forsyth nodded, and though, he thought, he didn’t need to, the Steelix returned in a red flash.

Dyna grabbed him and said, “[But she’s fine!]” Didn’t she think that was rotten? He moved to get free but she clung. “[She could still do it, you know?]”

How it all went foul! he thought. Months already, far longer than most before a gym, and now it was failing? How did it look for Runa? But Runa only smiled sadly and seemed to become very tired. “It’s okay,” she said, touching Dyna’s wool. “You don’t have to.”

For, he thought, that was Runa. It was breaking rules to quit a ranked match, a gym leader battle no less; didn’t matter on the routes but here the numbers were everything. It was not the end of a trainer’s career (the commentators mentioned some who did it and became successful) but it was a black mark, set one down as lacking something. But would Runa stain her reputation, break the rules and quit just to stop a faint if it looked certain? Of course she would. And Dyna would accept; then Tanwen would burst into fire and destroy the team, for destroying her by connection and ruining her dream; and so Runa, though she only wanted to protect them, though it was not her fault, would break her own philosophy, and only felt she must because she was blinded by a noble warmth for Pokémon, the sort that saw value in a wretched one like him.

It was spontaneous; for a moment he lost his senses. He leaped across the arena line.

Gaia said, “[What are you doing, you gump?]”

But this was real feeling, he thought, not that sickness or breeders’ warmth, but one quite worthy of Runa. Of course he’d faint; of course he’d fail to get in one move: it didn’t matter. Runa would have to pick him up and tend him and—so it was—he thought not a bit about it, only the thing itself, to put himself out for Runa.

“[Y— Yeah!]” Dyna said.

Runa didn’t say anything; only looked as if to stop him, but wasn’t sure it was the thing. But didn’t she see it was better? He was never going to make a strong battler anyway; had by far the least potential of anyone; to spend himself weakening others for the team was his best use. Runa looked nearly frightened. Was it that she really thought herself a guardian, and must spare them every foreseeable harm? But to faint in battle, helping her … that was what all other Pokémon were willing to do, wasn’t it? That was proving he grew; it was exactly what Runa wanted all this time, and everything she deserved. So he trilled and looked forward.

Calling across the arena, Forsyth said, “Is this your third Pokémon?”

[scene continues in next part]