Spoon: 5.12 Entree

Aaron’s Pokemon

- Artoria (Kirlia)
- Jeanne (Flaaffy)
- Durvasa (Primeape)
- Huevos Divorciados (Egg)
- Magellan (Chikorita)

Entree 5.12

Aaron Fulan
Lavaridge Town

The next morning began with a call to mom and dad. Artoria, Jeanne, Magellan, and I greeted them out in the middle of a clearing. My cramped room couldn’t really fit my whole team now.

The whole family sat around the couch, mom and dad in the middle. The twins were upside down, heads hanging off the seats with their legs kicking in the air. Between them, above their feet so mom and dad weren’t bothered, floated a small, rubber ball.

Around them were their pokemon. Alice waved daintily from a loveseat she shared with Quinn. Astro, dad’s clefable, nibbled on a persim berry cracker. 

“Hey, everyone,” I greeted. “We’re in Lavaridge now. And what are you two doing?”

“I bet Tate I had more control even with blood rushing to my head,” Liza grunted, her face red. “If I win, I get the last pudding cup.”

“You don’t,” Tate grunted back. “We already said it was mine yesterday!”

“Yeah, but this is a bet, see?”

“You can’t make bets on your own!”

I eyed mom. I said nothing, but there was no question she could feel my judgment from across the region.

She stared back at me as if there was nothing going on in the background. Meanwhile, the rubber ball hovered over their heads as Tate and Liza tried to “kick” it towards the other.

“Your father says sibling rivalry can be an enriching pastime,” she said primly.

“I did say that, yes,” dad agreed with an awkward cough. “So, how are you liking Lavaridge?”

“We didn’t have much time to explore yesterday so I don’t really know. It looks very… quaint? Historical?”

“Yes, they’ve really leaned into traditions as a tourist trap. Do check out the hot springs while you’re there though.”

“We already did. There’s a hot spring attached to the pokemon center.”

“There is? Well, that’s new.”

“Yup. Anyway, I’ve got surprises for you guys.”

The twins’ contest ended abruptly. The rubber ball dropped, only for it to wink out of existence. It appeared on Alice’s lap as she shot them an admonishing frown.

They paid the gardevoir no mind. Instead, they floated off the couch, closer to the TV.

“Surprise? What is it?” Liza asked, her face crowding close enough to the camera for me to pick out her nose hairs. “Hey, wait a minute, where’s Duravasa?”

“He evolved,” Tate said with a knowing smirk.

“Hey! Don’t ruin things with your foresight!”

“I didn’t! Durvasa isn’t here so he’s obviously part of the surprise. And, since he’s just a mankey, evolving was probably pretty easy.”

I laughed and released Durvasa from his ball. “Yup, that’s right. Well-reasoned, Tate. Good job.”

“Yes! Hah, in your face, Liza,” Tate cheered, blowing his sister a raspberry.

“Oh, whatever,” she huffed. “When did he evolve?”

“Yesterday,” I told them. “Come say hello, Durvasa. You remember my family, right?”

“Prime. Primeape-prime,” the muscle-monkey grunted. They were, as far as he was concerned, a part of the extended troupe.

“His fur looks really soft…”

I ran my fingers through his hair. “It is. But he’s actually all muscle under that fur. Little dude’s way heavier than you’d think.”

“I’ll bet. What’s the other surprise? You said ‘surprises,’ plural.”

“I did. I heard from the nurse this morning that the larvesta egg should hatch in a day.”

“What?” “Awesome!” the twins shouted over each other.

They were then unceremoniously yanked back into the couch by mom’s telekinetic grip. “Congratulations on your mankey’s evolution, Aaron.”

“Thanks, mom. He’s really strong now. He managed his first ever win against Artoria yesterday.”

“Kirlia, kir,” Artoria nodded. She held up her spoon with a determined scowl. “Lia… Kirlia.”

“With an alpha chikorita and a primeape, your stipend will no longer be sufficient.”

“Ah, yeah… Any chance I can get a raise?”

“Of course. I will account for your soon-to-hatch larvesta as well. I always provide enough for my sponsored trainers to seize all opportunities they are able,” she nodded. Of course, the unsaid other half was that she provided only as much as our abilities merited. Such was the harsh life of a trainer.

“That’s nice to hear. Thanks, mom. I don’t mind taking the odd job to pad my wallet, but having a buffer is nice. I’ll need to start shopping for bedding, baby formula, vitamins, and all that other good stuff.”

“You should not have put it off until now.”

“I didn’t. I asked a nurse to make me a list. She wanted to review a few things and got it to me this morning.”

“Good.”

“So, what are your plans in Lavaridge?” dad asked. “Other than the gym, I mean.”

“The contest,” I said. “Oh, and I want to buy a new sword for Artoria, maybe get one custom-made.”

“A new spoon?”

“Yeah, I’ve been doing some research and found that a lot of fairy type pokemon have some connection to the moon.”

“They do. That’s where moves like Moonblast get their power. Some feel this connection more strongly than others,” he said. He would know, what with his main being a clefable and all.

“Right, so would a moon stone help Artoria channel fairy energy?”

“It would, but if you’re looking for a moon stone big enough to carve a spoon out of, you’re going to be disappointed. There is the one in Mount Moon in Kanto, but that’s an internationally recognized heritage site, son.”

“I know. I was thinking that if I could have a custom spoon made, I could use powdered moon stone instead,” I clarified. “That should still have some effect.”

“Clever, I like it. You find a good smith and I’ll find you some moon stone powder.”

“You can do that?”

“I’m an astronaut. I’ve picked moon stones off the moon directly, thank you very much,” he said, thumbing his chest proudly. “Your old man’s pretty cool, eh, eh?”

“You’re very cool, dad.”

“Cooler than mom? Cooler than being a gym leader, righ–Erk!”

I laughed as mom teleported the rubber ball into his mouth. “I’m not answering that.”

“Wise,” she sniffed primly. “I am willing to pay for Artoria’s weapon.”

“And mine? Can I have a new sword, too?”

“Your own martial pursuit has nothing to do with your journey as a trainer. Get a job.”

“B-But… Ugh, fine,” I groused. I thought about whining, but it wasn’t likely to move mom. Besides, with the moon stone and boost to my stipend, I was already making out like a bandit. “Thanks again, mom.”

“You are very welcome, Aaron.”

X

After that, we took a quick tour around town. For starters, I promised Durvasa a bigger food bowl. Then there was the larvesta’s impending hatching. The nurse’s recommendation included a great many items I hadn’t ever considered before. Lucky for me, I wasn’t paying for any of it.

Lavaridge reminded me of Oldale, but without the rolling meadows and farms. Instead, the town had a thriving tourism industry centered around the hot springs and traditional craftsmen. In many ways, the town reminded me of a permanent medieval fair, except with a Japanese theme.

Historically, Lavaridge and surrounding settlements exported coal, minerals, and even the occasional evolution stone or aura gem. Over time, human reliance on coal declined and the majority of those mines were shut down. The town naturally turned to the tourism industry thanks to the League’s stabilizing influence on the region following the unification. This was especially true in recent decades, which saw a surge in renewable energy.

All that to say, the town was a wonderful blend of the old and new. Modern conveniences clashed with old-school ryokan, or at least, buildings themed in that style. There was an entire street where traditional craftsmen claimed to keep the culture of Hoenn alive. I saw teahouses, tailors specializing in kimono, and even several traditional blacksmiths.

‘Which blacksmith is best fit to forge our blades, my lord?’ Artoria asked. She was the only one out, if only because having four pokemon follow me around was a bit much in town.

‘Not a clue,’ I replied honestly. ‘I know what a good sword looks, feels, and cuts like, but I don’t know too much about the forging process.’

‘Is it not a matter of choosing good steel?’

‘Of course, but that’s actually the less important part. The forging quality and heat treatment it undergoes can actually have a bigger impact on the final product than the steel itself.’

‘I see, and such things, only an expert smith can know in detail.’

‘Yup.’

‘T-Then how shall we find the right smith?’

I considered the problem myself, of course. Normally, past performance was a good indicator of future performance. If you wanted a custom painting, you’d naturally go visit the painter and browse their portfolio before commissioning someone whose taste matched yours.

Except, that wasn’t really possible in this case. There were no display racks of weapons to browse because no one made swords these days. Oh, there were “swords,” in stage plays and the like, but they were props. They weren’t meant to be used in combat, especially not in combat against a pokemon. 

And why would they? There was no demand for such a niche tool. Even martial artists like the muscleheads in Dewford didn’t ask for things like that. Most people–sane people, a quiet voice in the back of my mind whispered–didn’t ever consider that as a viable use-case.

This was a travesty, a silent tragedy which has befallen the traditions of my ancestors. I refused to accept that in Lavaridge, a town known for historical preservation, there wasn’t a single blacksmith who could forge a sword fit for me and Artoria.

‘There’s nothing for it but to ask,’ I told her. ‘Just because they don’t make swords now doesn’t mean they’ve never tried before.’

‘That is true. Perhaps one of them is descended from a legendary bladesmith,’ she said excitedly. ‘They may possess secret forging techniques passed down through the centuries.’

‘I doubt that’s true, Artoria. You might be expecting too much of them. If anything, those “secret techniques” have probably been folded into modern forging techniques over time.’

‘My lord lacks a sense of wonder,’ she pouted. ‘Besides, is it not true that humans have forged with aura for millennia?’

‘Some, or so historical texts suggest. In reality, we don’t really know. I don’t think the human smiths had much to do with aura. Aura-users like my family are extremely rare, after all. If anything, it’s likely that their pokemon helpers did the infusing.’

‘That makes sense, my lord. Reality is often more mundane than our imaginations.’

‘Instead of trying to spot hidden meanings in their words, look at them directly. Taste their emotions and look for people who are honest and diligent. Many traditionalists forged with the help of pokemon so look at them as well. If the pokemon are strong and steady, the product is also likely to be good.’

‘My lord is wise. This knight shall keep her eyes peeled and empathic senses sharp.’

I smiled at that. Because a kirlia could quite literally eat emotions, “empathic senses” meant something different to Artoria. The full mental schema associated with it boiled down to something like “mind-taste” or “feeling-flavor.”

The two of us met with every smith we could. Most didn’t mind us watching them work, but when they learned what we wanted, they either laughed or pointed us to a kitchenware store or a tourist shop. They weren’t bad, certainly better than I would ever be, but none of them called to us. They seemed… performative.

Until eventually, we stumbled upon a shop that was recognizably different from the rest. Inside was a man who looked to be in his late forties or early fifties. He had a headband to keep the hair and sweat out of his eyes and a salt and pepper stubble that looked like it hadn’t seen a razor in a week.

Around him were his three pokemon. One was a skarmory, roosting up in the rafters. Judging by the pile of discarded feathers in a crate in the corner, I knew where the old smith was getting some of his material.

Another was a machoke. Though his trainer was getting on in years, the superpower pokemon had no trouble picking up the slack. His hammer crashed down under the watchful eye of the smith in rhythmic beats, so steady that Jeanne could use him as a metronome.

As the hammer collided with the metal, we felt it. There was a slight spark of power that had nothing to do with physical force. The machoke was, quite literally, hammering a piece of his own strength into the metal.

Had I only my normal eyes, I would have missed the third pokemon. The magcargo wasn’t immediately visible, hidden in the flames as it was, but its quiet determination stood out to me. The heat did not waver even as the magcargo’s aura filled the furnace.

We took it all in. The infusion of aura into the creation process was neither new nor groundbreaking. It was why some structures, like transoceanic boats and League-endorsed stadiums, were far more durable than they should be. This technique was also used for high-end training gear and the like, but this was the first time I’d seen the forging process at work, and on an individual scale.

Artoria gazed up at me, ruby eyes shimmering with excitement. ‘My lord, I believe we have found our smith.’

‘So we have,’ I smiled back.

“Well? Are you going to just stand there?” the old smith barked. Not unfriendly, but he just had that natural, drill sergeant voice that reminded me of a loudred.

“Sorry, sir, we were just captivated by your forge,” I said honestly. “I’d never seen anyone forge with aura before.”

“Eh? You can tell?”

“I can. I’m an empath, and my kirlia is even better at it than me.”

“Guess that makes sense.”

“What is your machoke making if you don’t me asking?”

“We’re making an aura-infused suspension for a wagon. Not exactly exciting stuff, but it pays the bills.”

“Wait, why would anyone need that?”

He shrugged. “Dunno. The client said in his letter that he heard about rhyhorn racing that’s all the race in Kalos and wanted to give it a shot. He wants to fit this on a chariot so the bouncing wouldn’t be too rough.”

“Does he know that racers in Kalos ride the rhyhorn directly?” I asked incredulously.

“He does. He says this sounds more fun.”

“More power to him, I guess.”

“Right. Kenji Machisuke, you are?”

I coughed awkwardly. “Sorry, that was rude of me. I’m Aaron Fulan and this is Artoria. So you make custom, aura-infused pieces?”

“I do.”

“What about weapons?”

“Like that sword on your waist? I suppose I could, though having an aura-infused prop like that wouldn’t do anything unless you planned on fighting an actual pokemon.”

“Right… Hahaha… Who’d ever fight a pokemon with a sword? That’s crazy talk,” I laughed sheepishly. I could practically feel Artoria’s judgmental gaze drilling holes into my back. “So it can be done?”

“Not with the kind of money a trainer carries around. Don’t give me that look. I was a broke traveler too, you know.”

“Well, what about for Artoria here?”

“A weapon for a kirlia? I don’t see why not. Less metal, so it’d be a lot cheaper than a sword for a human,” he muttered as he sized her up. “Artoria, eh? An odd name for a boy... How about a set of metal tonfa?”

“Ah, you misunderstand. Artoria is a girl.”

“Eh? Why would a female kirlia need a weapon? I thought you were trying to get your kirlia ready for evolution.”

“Nope, Artoria is a swordsman. I taught her myself.”

“Hahaha, you don’t say. That’s a new one,” Mr. Machisuke laughed with good humor. “I don’t suppose you mean that spoon, do you?”

“I do. Psychics have an innate connection to spoons. No one is quite sure why, but we do. To Artoria, her spoon is both a psychic medium and a close quarters weapon.”

“Hmm… I’m not sure I believe you.”

“We can prove it if you’d like,” I offered. I looked around and saw the barrel full of skarmory feathers. “Those. Artoria can cut them.”

“With a spoon.”

“Yes.”

“You’re messing with me.”

“I am not. How about this? If Artoria can cut a steel feather with her spoon, you agree to take this commission.”

He eyed my partner, then me again. “Alright, it’s about time for a break anyway. Oi, machoke, magcargo, let’s take five. Looks like we’re about to see something interesting.”

So saying, he dug around until he found a set of clamps. He placed a feather in each clamp and set them in a row together. Then, he had the clamps braced by the machoke so they would not move.

A skarmory’s steel type aura was immensely durable. No normal sword, or even a bullet, could pierce its feathers. Artoria would have trouble dealing any physical damage to a mature skarmory like Mr. Machisuke’s.

But, that was only true when the feathers were a part of its body. There were ways to make aura persist independent of a pokemon, such as infusion, or several naturally occurring hotspots around the world, but these were normal feathers. Good steel, and nothing else.

I motioned for Artoria to take the stage. ‘All you, Artoria. Win yourself a sword.’

‘I am your sworn knight. I shall prove myself worthy,’ she said. Her entire body blazed with resolve.

She didn’t like the thought of “prancing about for applause” in contests, but this was admittedly a little different. Here, she was being asked to demonstrate her swordsmanship, not water it down or make it pretty for an audience. Here, she was being told to prove herself for the ultimate prize, a sword commissioned from a master.

Psychic aura gathered around her spoon. It began as a single mote of light, then became a raging inferno so bright that it cast sapphire shadows against the smithy’s walls. Then, it all vanished, condensed into the spoon itself through Artoria’s iron will.

She took a deep, fortifying breath. Her sword sat steady in her hands, neither hurried nor nervous. I saw Mr. Machisuke’s eyes widen; it was the moment he understood that he had a new commission.

Then, with enough force to crater the ground, she blinked up to the machoke’s chest-height.

The weight of experience was unmistakable. There was nothing special about this cut, not compared to the thousands of others she made every day. The only difference was that this time, we had an audience apart from our family. This time, there was a wager on the line.

Artoria turned to face us. Acting as if she hadn’t just done the impossible, she clutched her sword to her side and bowed formally. Behind her, twin feathers dropped to the ground, their bottom halves still clutched in the machoke’s braces. 

“So, about that commission, Mr. Machisuke,” I began, smiling like only a proud teacher could.

“Hahahaha! Alright, you got me, kid. Aaron, was it? Who taught your kirlia to do that?” he asked with a raucous laugh. Rather than be upset that he lost the bet, he looked happy to have seen something new.

“Me. I said I’m psychic as well, didn’t I?” I gestured to the barrel of feathers. “I can cut another one myself if you’d like.”

He then eyed my sword. “Eh? That thing’s sharp?”

“No, this is a prop, just cheap aluminum alloy. Even if I ground an edge onto it, it wouldn’t last more than a few swings.”

“But it can be.”

“When I need it to be, yes,” I admitted shamelessly. “Any chance you’d accept a commission for a regular katana as well as a spoon?”

“Why do you want a sword anyway? Either of you. If your kirlia can do that with a spoon, then I’m sure anything else would work just as well.”

“The material construction does matter. In Artoria’s case, I’m hoping you can make something out of silver, or at least a silver alloy.”

“Eh? That’s not exactly a sturdy metal.”

“No, but it is deeply associated with the moon, and the idea of mystery. Artoria is also a fairy type.”

“Ah, I see. If that’s what you’re going for, why not a moon stone?”

“That’s another thing. My dad has access to moon stones and I was hoping I could integrate one into the spoon somehow.”

He stroked his stubble in thought. “Hmm… You could try carving an entire spoon out of a whole moon stone, but I wouldn’t recommend it. It would be ridiculously expensive, and fragile. I’m guessing you want a spoon that’s long enough to serve her well even as a gardevoir?”

“That would be ideal, but I suspect I’ll need to return to get it extended,” I told him. Besides, when she evolved, I fully planned to attach the gardevoirite to the pommel. “What would happen if we added powdered moon stone to the spoon?”

“That… You know, I don’t really know. Charcoal can be added to metal during the forging process to introduce more carbon. Makes for better steel, see? But moon stone… That ain’t carbon.”

“No, it’s not. But we’re not making a normal sword, either. Silver alloy, with a bit of moon stone. Doesn’t that sound interesting?”

“Heh, it does. Fine, you got me. If you bring me the materials, I’ll make the little lady her sword,” he said with a rueful chuckle. “I swear, that’s still the weirdest thing I’ve seen in years.”

“And me? I’d prefer a normal, aura-infused sword. It doesn’t have to be completely sharp.”

“It’s not a toy, Aaron.”

“I know. I want a way to protect myself apart from my pokemon.”

“I… It won’t be cheap.”

“Of course.”

“And I better not hear anything about you in the papers.”

“If you do, it’ll be because I drew my sword to protect myself or others.”

He studied me for a long time. “You’re a strange kid.”

“Trust me, I know,” I smiled.

Author’s Note

Huevos divorciados, or “divorced eggs,” are closely related to huevos rancheros in terms of food classification. It’s just two fried eggs on a tortilla with red and green salsa, one on each egg, hence the “divorced.”

Rhyhorn racing is a canonical sport in Kalos. Serena’s mom, Grace, is a retired rhyhorn racer and was apparently quite good as she was popular.

Animal Fact: Let’s talk about sex. Insects and birds lay eggs. Mammals give birth to live young. Elementary school biology, right?

Wrong. Some mammals (echidnas and platypuses) lay eggs. Some insects (tsetse flies and bat flies) give birth to live young. The funny part is that these aren’t the weirdest exceptions.

No, that crown goes to the humble aphid. It lays eggs. It also gives live birth. The two are not mutually exclusive. Let me explain:

An aphid is capable of both sexual (holocyclic) reproduction as well as asexual (anholocyclic) reproduction via parthenogenesis. Essentially, they clone themselves for several generations to ensure their genes last. No known species of aphid reproduces purely by sexual means.

The determining factor is the season. Aphid females reproduce via parthenogenesis in the summer but mate sexually in the autumn. Seeing how they only live 20-40 days and are born sexually mature, there can be forty or more generations of aphids each season.

This is only the second weirdest thing about aphids. If you know, you know.