Spoon: 5.9 Entree

Aaron’s Pokemon

- Artoria (Kirlia)
- Jeanne (Flaaffy)
- Durvasa (Mankey)
- Baghali Ghatogh (Egg)
- Magellan (Chikorita)

Entree 5.9

Magellan
Verdanturf City

This man-made forest, an “orchard,” was interesting. It was nature, yet it followed the laws I witnessed in the forest of stone my trainer called “Rustboro.” And all of it belonged to one family of humans and their pokemon.

I didn’t have a problem with that. Powerful pokemon, or sometimes groups of pokemon, often claimed patches of forest for food. These humans cultivated the land, and so it was right that they claimed the land’s bounty.

What I did not understand was why. “What do humans do with so many berries? Would it not be better to share with the pokemon?”

“They do,” the old bellossom answered. “Humans give value to something called money. Other humans give my trainer money for the bounty of this land. Have you never seen money?”

“Ah, I understand. My trainer uses money, but I had not considered what other humans might do to earn theirs.”

“The berries and fruits here will go to the town, or even further abroad. My trainer and his family eat only a small portion of this.”

“So this is where the food comes from. I had wondered how humans could acquire food in their forests of stone.”

“Haha, you have not had a trainer for long, have you?”

“No, not even a full moon.”

“I can tell,” he said, nodding knowingly. The flowers on his head swayed with the motion, a little droopy with age. “You know, my trainer and I wandered the world once.”

I perked up at that. I could sense a story. Story time was always the best, back when She Who Blooms with the Dawn was alive. “What did you see, old-timer?”

“Many things. I was a young oddish when Paul and I left this very orchard to see the world. We left Verdanturf and traveled all across Hoenn. We even got a few of those badges young humans seem so obsessed with.”

“How many did you get? My trainer says eight is the most a person can have, and that it will give us permission to participate in a grand tournament far to the east. Did you compete there?”

“Heh, yes, my trainer once held such ambitions as well, but such ambitions died swiftly. In the end, we only acquired three. One from the forest of stone to our west. One from an island of fighters. And lastly, one from a forest of steel. That place, I remember, had many electric types.”

“Why did you stop?” I asked softly. I smelled a tragedy. My dream was to visit the old growths of Johto, to see what my matriarch once saw. 

Artoria spoke of her father, a peerless blademaster she wished to defeat one day. Durvasa spoke of enlightenment, that mysterious state that no mankey he knew had ever reached before. And Jeanne, she sought the sun, a radiance only the Legends could hope to match.

We were each so different, yet united in the pursuit of our dreams. The path, the journey before us, held an almost sacred importance in our hearts. I couldn’t imagine a single one of us giving up our ambitions. 

“Oh, we didn’t stop our journey,” he said with a quiet chuckle. “Paul decided he didn’t enjoy battling as much as he enjoyed seeing the sights. We stopped trying so hard to gather badges, but he found a new interest.”

“Like what? Don’t most trainers battle? In gyms or contests?”

“He gathered berries. He was the one who introduced apicot and apricot trees to Verdanturf. He studied soil composition, rainfall, and other such things to find the perfect plants to bring back to our humble town.”

“That doesn’t sound very impressive,” I told him honestly. “We can feel how each tree is growing naturally.”

“That is true, but we are pokemon. A human cared so much for this orchard that he learned to care for nature as we do. Is that not commendable?”

“I suppose it is, old-timer.”

The bellossom held out his hand. His leafy skirt shimmered with light. An orb of green energy formed in his hand. Gently, almost reverently, he placed it at the roots of one tree.

I could feel it. It was much as my matriarch once did for the forest. He was weaker perhaps, could not revitalize miles of forest on his lonesome, but the essence was the same. The roots drank greedily. The leaves shone greener. The young sprigs stood straighter.

“Whether the forests or the flower meadows or this orchard, I find my job to be much the same,” he said with a contented smile. “There is joy in giving life. It is a different kind of joy than that of victory in battle, but a joy nonetheless.”

I bowed my head. “My matriarch, She Who Blooms with the Dawn, said much the same. She too went on a journey, traveled here from a place called Johto. She found more fulfillment in nurturing the herd than in fighting, though she had strength aplenty.”

“It is the wisdom of age, my large friend. There is strength in being a provider, just as much as in being a conqueror. It is a quiet sort of strength, but strength nonetheless.”

“She passed before I could learn to do that. I can take in sunlight, nourish myself but I don’t know how to give it to another.”

“And what a shame that is. Giving of ourselves to the world around us, that is something special. It is not an easy task, for it goes against our nature to consume and grow. Would you like to learn?”

“Learn? I thought it wasn’t easy.”

“It is not, and you will be gone by morning, but perhaps I can teach you enough to get you started.”

I smiled. “I’d like that, old-timer.”

“Then listen well. The act of deriving nourishment from sunlight is something humans call ‘photosynthesis.’ Enhancing this rate manually leads to a move called Synthesis. Can you use it?”

“I can. I was… recently injured. I’ve had to learn quickly to hasten my own recovery.”

“Good. I focus the energy I’ve gathered into an orb of aura. Humans call it an Energy Ball. Do you know it?”

“I don’t. Is it hard?”

“It is. Raw aura is more difficult to manipulate than when it is channeled through something,” he said. He hummed in thought. “Leech Seed. Have you learned it?”

“I can use it fine, but doesn’t that take energy away from the target?”

“It does. It also stores the energy inside a seed for you to consume later. You can use it on yourself. Then, you will need to practice gifting that seed to others.”

“So I need to reverse Leech Seed. I think I understand the idea,” I muttered. “And when I master it, I can work on removing the seed altogether to create Energy Ball.”

“That’s right. That’s how Paul taught me the move. Curious, isn’t it? How creative humans can be?”

“Yes, let me tell you, Aaron is much the same. See that mankey up there? That mankey is learning to read human scripts and he told me about the mechanics of fire…”

X

Aaron Fulan

The sun rose and I rose with it. Paul was a simple man who paid me my share without a hassle. He also threw in a few jars of fruit preserve for not being too rough on the local pokemon. Though they were pests in this instance, the intelligence of most pokemon meant that the wildlife could become critical allies and friends somewhere down the line.

Then, we had a small breakfast with the whole team before Artoria and Jeanne went into their balls to sleep. I spent fifteen minutes massaging the ointment that the pokemon center prescribed into Magellan’s leaf and back. It was a pastel-green lotion that smelled faintly of mint that was supposed to enhance his photosynthesis rate. I had no idea if it worked or not, but the massage seemed to relax him so that was good enough for me.

The road I planned to take wasn’t part of the Hoenn map I remembered from my past life. But as I’d come to learn, that map was a grossly simplified version of the region’s various routes. It covered enough cities and towns to enable the game’s linear progression, and not much else.

Though the region was relatively sparse in terms of roadways out of consideration for wild pokemon, there were many routes that didn’t get mentioned. Petalburg had a harbor that saw ships from as far away as Sootopolis. A river barge allowed people to cross from Oldale to Slateport with relative ease. And, a minor route existed between Lavaridge and Verdanturf.

Simply put, the route was there because even Lavaridge needed to eat. Being a mountain town famed for its hot springs, it had very limited options when it came to agriculture. The volcanic soil was fantastic, but space was limited and building terraced farmland would bring humans in competition with many powerful pokemon. Thus, exporting volcanic ash for fertilizer while importing produce from Fallarbor and Verdanturf was the natural compromise.

The route, just five to six days on foot, saw semi-consistent travel, though not usually by trainers following the traditional gym circuit. It wasn’t quite as heavily patrolled as many of the routes I’d been on, but I could expect to see rangers on a consistent basis.

Well, that was largely a precaution on the rangers’ parts. The Rustboro Mountain Range was home to some genuinely terrifying pokemon, but they preferred the solitude of the peaks or the cavern depths.

As always, we trained while we traveled. First things first, I did as I’d done on my way to Petalburg: I got an empty soup pot and packed it tight with sand and gravel. I then handed it to Magellan.

“Take this in your vines and slowly swing it around yourself, focusing on consistent, even circles instead of speed,” I told him. I had fitted arm and ankle weights that I purchased in Petalburg City, but I wasn’t quite sure if he was ready for full body strength training quite yet. “The goal here is to strengthen your vines and get you used to lifting with them.”

Magellan hefted the dirt-filled pot. He let out a quiet chirp of dissatisfaction. “Chiko… Ri-chikorita…”

“It’s too light?”

“Ri.”

“Hold it out further. Even a small ax can feel heavy because the weight is concentrated further away from the body. Your vines give you a great deal of extra reach, but you’ll need practice to make that reach count.”

“Chiko…”

“Just trust me. I promise you won’t be able to make those circles by lunchtime,” I said with a knowing smile. Magellan didn’t trust me completely yet, but he was at least willing to give it a shot.

Durvasa didn’t need nearly as much instruction. He strapped on his own weights and got to work, shadow boxing as we went along. I could tell that he was working on incorporating Focus Energy and Fire Punch into his boxing combinations by the sharpened resolve that cut through his simmering anger. Once in a while, I asked him to throw out a Swift or two so he could better integrate his limited ranged options into his fighting style.

Which left me. My own training was falling behind a little. Or rather, my pokemon were starting to leave me behind. Even Jeanne, the least physically capable member of my team, was faster than me, even without Agility.

It couldn’t be helped. The simple truth was that I was human. Pokemon could grow explosively in the right environment. Paired with a decent trainer, it was an observable fact that training and combat could even accelerate evolution. That… That obviously wasn’t how things worked for humans.

As much as I wanted to work out like Goku, pesky limitations like age and plain ol’ biology held me back. More intense, heavier workouts weren’t the answer, not unless I wanted to break something and pause my journey or hobble around on crutches. I made up for it somewhat by relying on my tactile telekinesis, but I had to face the truth: I was rapidly approaching the limits of my thirteen year old body.

I let out a frustrated sigh. All I could do was continue to improve my psychic affinity. The blunted edge of my katana glowed a faint blue. My sword was basically a bar of metal, a showpiece, but I could give it an edge if I wanted. Refining that edge, hardening and sharpening it until it became something close to those silly monomolecular blades, would be my next task.

While I did that, maybe it was also time to start thinking about a new sword style. Mundane kendo and HEMA were adequate, but I’d long since learned as much as I ever would. And, if pokemon could learn to channel their auras in specific patterns to perform moves that amplified their strengths, then perhaps I could do the same?

I reinforced my body with psychic power and ran ahead. “Durvasa, toss a few Swifts my way at random.”

“Man,” he grunted. With an eager grin, he threw a haymaker that launched a trio of golden stars. The stars curved like shuriken towards me.

My senses sharpened at the sudden danger and I stepped into the attack. If I stepped back, they would have intersected in a way that made dodging impossible. I raised my blade, cutting one out of the sky.

The star exploded. It threw my blade off its trajectory and I only barely clipped the second. The second star’s explosion broke my guard and the third struck me on the stomach, launching me like a ragdoll across the road. A flare of pain bloomed across my chest.

“Shit!” I swore.

“Man?” he asked, concerned.

I dusted myself off. The pain was brief, no worse than if I’d taken a training sword while in HEMA’s padded armor. “I’m not hurt. Reinforcement is convenient like that.”

“Man.”

“Don’t worry about it. It just means you’re improving.”

“Mankey.”

“Again.”

That's how we traveled until lunch. As Durvasa and I trained, I tried to consciously enhance my senses with aura. It helped, but only to a point.

Mother sometimes said that psychic power was like a muscle. My experiences only partially agreed. Rather than the biceps, it was akin to the muscles at the base of the ear. Some people could move them consciously, but most could not, and it took a while to learn the trick.

I allowed my frustration to fuel my training. Improvements were slight, practically unnoticeable, but I could at least parry Durvasa’s full salvo by lunchtime. As I practiced, I thought about the techniques I could try to emulate. Aura, psychic-aligned or otherwise, was the key to elevating my swordsmanship.

There was the Rokushiki from One Piece, but they weren’t sword techniques. And honestly? “Stomp the ground ten times in an instant,” or “Kick the air until it turns solid,” was pretty fucking stupid as far as instructions went. Just saying something didn’t make it possible.

Zoro had sword techniques, but stuff like cutting cannonballs out of the air was far beyond me at the moment. I was pretty sure even the half-starved Zoro from the very start of the series would kick my ass. That son of a bitch cut an ax head like butter. And I patently refused to stick another sword in my mouth. I had no idea what he was thinking.

No, I had to have a (somewhat) realistic perspective. Aura was amazing, but I wasn’t. Maybe one day. And that left the more grounded martial arts anime I remembered.

There were the breathing styles from Demon Slayer. The show came out when I was in my early thirties? Late twenties? A few friends and students in my HEMA studio really enjoyed it, but I hadn’t paid much attention to it. Other than a handful of nostalgic hits like Pokemon, I’d largely outgrown shounen anime by that point.

When it came to bullshit sword techniques that sorta made sense if you squinted, there was only one choice in my opinion: Rurouni Kenshin. It was one of the older shounen manga, one I’d grown up with. It followed the life of the titular protagonist, Kenshin Himura, during the Meiji Restoration.

If I remembered right, Kenshin’s sword style, Hiten Mitsurugi-Ryu, was loosely based on Shiranui-Ryu. His real-life counterpart, Kawakami Gensai, was both the founder and sole practitioner. And like so many other “secret arts,” the “master” never left behind any notes about the damn thing.

Well, that was fine. I wasn’t interested in the mundane original, anyway. Both sword styles revolved around iaido, the art of “drawing and cutting simultaneously.” The Hiten Mitsurugi was supposedly made to allow one man to cut down as many opponents as possible with the fewest movements possible. In other words, iaido, but taken to logical extremes.

Iaido was still popularly practiced in kendo and kenjutsu communities for demonstration purposes. Though I never had the absurd speed and reaction time that an anime protagonist like Kenshin had, I was quite familiar with the art in itself. I felt that with my empathy and tactile telekinesis, I could replicate some of the things the “Battosai” did and go from there.

Besides, the emphasis on speed, efficiency, and technique over brute strength resonated with me. If I couldn’t match a fully evolved pokemon in physical ability, it was only right that I sought other ways to compensate.

X

We stopped for lunch and I released Jeanne and Artoria. Jeanne needed a little more coaxing, but the noonday sun and the smell of food got her up in no time.

Today, lunch for Artoria, Durvasa, and I was a ham sandwich, sweetened by a layer of apricot preserve from the orchard. With a healthy mound of arugula and slices of beefsteak tomato, we were eating well. Even with a hammerspace backpack, I was limited in the amount of fresh, perishable ingredients I could carry so I tried to eat through those early on before breaking into the ration bars.

I poured out the high-quality pokemon food the pokemon center recommended into Magellan’s bowl. It didn’t look particularly appetizing to me, it reminded me of kibbles with yellow specs, but Magellan seemed enticed by the aroma. Curious, I took a nibble.

My mouth felt like it’d been electrocuted. My face scrunched up as a wave of intense sourness washed over me. “Oh, god, that’s awful…”

“Chi, chiko-rita,” Magellan huffed. He circled his bowl with his vines protectively and pulled it closer to him.

I chuckled sheepishly. “Sorry, all yours. I didn’t think sitrus berry extract would be that sour though.”

“Ta.”

“Yeah, I know. Want some of the preserve on top?”

“Chiko,” he nodded. He also gestured towards my bag of arugula and tomatoes so I gave him those as well.

Jeanne, she mostly fed herself. As much as I teased her for her cud chewing, she was fantastically self-sufficient. She seldom needed much else in the way of nutrition and ate when she got bored of the grassy flavor in her mouth, not really because she was ever truly hungry. All she needed to be happy with lunch was a single apicot berry to supplement her persistent diet.

She got the egg out of the incubator and swaddled it in a wooly blanket. Then, she ignited her paws with fire and gently began to warm it as she whispered sweet nothings to the developing larvesta. No doubt, she was extolling the splendor of contests.

I smiled happily and left her to it. It was a novel use of the move, and it wasn’t like a larvesta egg was going to suffer from overheating. The eggs weren’t quite as fireproof as the pokemon, but I had it on good authority that I’d need a magmar or similar to really be worried.

Author’s Note

Baghali Ghatogh is a north-Iranian stew made with beans, dill, eggs, turmeric, and garlic. It’s usually served with steamed rice. No idea what it tastes like, but I’m starting to run out of egg dish names.

Aaron’s transition to an anime swordsman was a long time coming. I don’t know how many of you remember Rurouni Kenshin, but that used to be a favorite of mine growing up. It probably dates me somewhat. I still think it holds up even now as far as more grounded martial arts manga go.

Animal Fact: Despite appearances, the maned wolf is neither a wolf nor a fox. It is in its own taxonomic branch and like dogs and foxes, is omnivorous.

In fact, there is a plant called “lobeira,” or “fruta-do-lobo,” which literally translates to “fruit of the wolf.” It’s also called “wolf’s apple” in English. This is because it can make up over 50% of the maned wolf’s diet.