There's an active poll for the next team member over on Discord and YOU-KNOW-WHAT! You only have a few hours left to cast your vote, as I'll be starting on the next chapter very soon :).
***
We walked quickly. Haunter guarded us, hidden within my shadow, and Houndour trotted contentedly at my heel, but Squirtle flinched at every rustle or sharp sound from the surroundings. After the Mankey attack, he was in a state of constant stress, which surprised me. The wild is cruel, after all—he should have been used to such things.
Unless he came from a breeder and led a protected life full of food... or perhaps he had a Blastoise by his side in the wild, someone no one dared to approach.
It wasn't wise to travel like this at night. It was dangerous, as I couldn't see as well as I would have liked. Still, it was definitely safer than the Viridian Forest, which was infested with Bug Catchers. Here, fortunately, the trees were thinner, growing scattered in the grass and on rocky outcrops.
The cry of some predator echoed in the distance, making Squirtle literally jump. I just shook my head at his behavior. "A total princess," I thought. "I'll get him out of this."
We continued along the main beaten path for a while longer. According to the Pokédex map, the Pokémon Center was still an hour and a half away. Given how scared Squirtle was, I was worried he might have a heart attack from the stress. Traveling was simply safer in the light.
After a while, the path began to narrow. A rocky ridge rose on the left, while to the right was a slight slope and an open green area. It looked like an ideal spot for a camp. Even if I slept only a few meters from the main road and was out in the open, I was sure Haunter would protect me during the night if any person wanted to try their luck. Besides, we were close to the Pokémon Center; surely no one would dare to risk it.
"We'll set up camp here," I announced to the team. "Haunter, find a few pieces of wood, please."
"Haunter, haunt!" he replied. He paused for a moment, cast a scowling look at Squirtle, and then continued: "Haunter? Haunt, haaaaunt!"
"Houndour!" the beast by my side barked contentedly and started wagging his tail.
I understood it as Haunter expressing concern for my safety and then insulting Squirtle. Squirtle, however, didn't react at all, merely staring vacantly at the ground. Houndour, meanwhile, assured him that he would protect me. Looking at how he was covered in Mankey blood, I believed him—and apparently, so did Haunter, who nodded and went off for wood.
In the clearing, a fire pit had already been dug out, lined with charred stones of equal size arranged in a perfect circle. It was done quite elegantly; I was certain the person before me had been of a high caliber. Such auric precision with stone on such a small scale must have been demanding.
I started setting up the tent, and in two minutes, it was done. In that short time, I had gained plenty of practice. We waited for Haunter, who was taking longer this time—there was likely less available wood nearby. At least I had time to think.
While Houndour was content, albeit smeared with someone else's blood, Squirtle looked like a little, frightened pile of misery. Only food would help with this. But first, I had to clean us up a bit. I pulled out a water bottle which, thanks to Poké-technology, had a surprisingly large volume.
"Houndour," I called him back. As soon as he saw the water bottle, he immediately began to back away. He was surprisingly sharper than one would expect. With a small, reluctant growl and flattened ears, he finally obeyed and stood before me.
The blood on him had already managed to dry. In the moonlight, he looked menacing, but up close? In person, he looked like something out of a horror movie. I was sure that if we walked into a Pokémon Center like this, Nurse Joy would immediately call Officer Jenny. Mankey blood was far too similar to human blood in color, consistency, and even that metallic scent.
I started pouring water over him. Although he protested with whines, he held still. The problem was that the blood in his fur had already stiffened, so I had to run my fingers through his coat and scrub it. This was exactly why I needed a brush and some grooming kit... I made a mental note of it for the shopping list when we reached Cerulean.
Meanwhile, Haunter returned with the wood. We weren't finished yet, and my hands were still wet. He stacked the logs in the fire pit exactly as I had taught him—crisscrossed high, with thin, easily flammable twigs in the center.
"Houndour, can you light it from there?" I thought to ask.
"Houndour!" he barked in an enthusiastic-yet-dejected tone with his wet fur and immediately began to concentrate. After a moment, he opened his maw, and a thin, sparse, but steady flame ignited the fire. It was an Ember, quite precise, though weak.
I scratched him behind the ear with my wet hand in praise. I cleaned him for a while longer, then promised: "I'll clean myself too, and then I'll make you guys something good to eat."
He immediately started wagging his tail with a short, excited yelp.
"Are you hurting anywhere? I heard you yelp when one of those fuckers hit you," I asked.
"Houndour, hound, houndour!" he puffed out his chest and replied dismissively.
I nodded and scratched him again: "Good boy."
Once he was somewhat clean, I started cleaning myself. Fortunately, none of them had died on me, and I wasn't in such close contact, so I only had a few drops on me. Worse off was the sticky, dried sword, which was very difficult to pull from its scabbard. Although I had wiped it on the fur of one of the monkeys before leaving, it clearly hadn't been enough.
I gave the sword a quick glance and rinsed the scabbard with water. This time, however, I didn't slide it back in but laid it loosely in the tent. I leaned the scabbard against the wall with the opening facing down so it could breathe and dry properly.
When I stepped out, I noticed Houndour sneakily approaching Squirtle. Squirtle just sat there idly, staring at the ground, oblivious to his surroundings or the "approaching danger." When Houndour was right next to him, he began to shake violently. The water soaked into his fur sprayed directly onto Squirtle. Squirtle jumped up in surprise and immediately let loose.
"Squirtle, squirt!" he raised a finger accusingly. "Squiiiirtle!"
"Houndour!" he replied contentedly and returned to me with his tongue hanging out. Squirtle just watched him indignantly, but in doing so, he completely forgot the shock he'd been in.
"Good boy," I whispered to Houndour when he came to me.
"Hound!"
I pulled out a pan with a tripod and prepared a quick "mishmash" to warm us up. Since we had already had dinner once, I only gave us something small. After a moment, the clearing began to smell of meat again. Houndour, lying by my side, was already drooling. Haunter hovered warily around, and Squirtle, though he seemed more alert now, still kept his distance.
When it was done, I divided the food into bowls. Houndour immediately dove into his portion. Squirtle thanked me, but clearly had no thoughts of eating. I left my portion in the pan. I started on it with some apprehension, as I had thrown everything in together—human convenience food, algae for Squirtle, unseasoned meat for Houndour, and vegetables. Fortunately, the flavors didn't mix badly, and the food tasted great.
Haunter cast suspicious glances at Squirtle but didn't go near him. Squirtle spent the rest of the time silently watching the flames. I had hoped Squirtle would snap out of it over the meal, but it didn't happen—he didn't even touch it. This, too, was the role of a trainer, so I went over to him. Without a word, I sat down beside him. He looked at me with big, round eyes, but when I remained silent, he turned his gaze back to the flames.
After a few minutes, as a yawn hit me, I finally spoke: "What's going on, Squirtle?" I asked directly.
He flinched and looked at me, but then lowered his head to the ground and didn't answer.
"Hm, I'll guess then," I nodded. "Do you feel like you failed? Are you blaming yourself for panicking and not fighting enough? For losing your head?"
He immediately looked up. It seemed to me there were tears in his eyes, but it could have easily been just the moonlight's reflection. Before I could be sure, he lowered his head back to the ground.
"Everyone is afraid, Squirtle. Everyone," I told him. He twitched his tail restlessly, letting me know he was listening. "It's not about not being afraid, but about overcoming the fear. Acting in spite of it. I don't know what your life has been like until now, but I assume you haven't experienced the true cruelty of the wild and real combat until today."
The blue tail flicked from side to side, but he still didn't answer.
"The reality is that every first fight is accompanied by panic and terror," I chuckled. "I remember my first match only as a blur. I ran out of breath in the first round; I barely knew what was happening. I had this red helmet on my head, and I could hardly see through the sweat stinging my eyes. And when I took a kick to the head... that was a feeling."
Squirtle looked into my eyes with a silent challenge for me to continue.
"Fighting is about habit and instinct. When you're inexperienced, you react in panic at first. A person gets winded quickly and instead of sharp strikes, they only make readable, looping movements. With time and training, however, those edges are smoothed out. You'll improve and start to perceive combat with calm. It will stop being a nightmare. So you don't have to be afraid. I'm counting on you. You're going to be the most powerful Blastoise that ever existed. But you mustn't give up. You have to fight."
I didn't know what else to say to him. I was no motivational speaker, so we sat silently by the fire for a while longer. Haunter, floating nearby, listened to my monologue with obvious interest. It was time to go to sleep. When I stood up, I beckoned Haunter to follow me into the tent and spoke to Squirtle one last time: "Don't stay up too late. We continue our journey tomorrow morning."
"Squirtle," he nodded.
I had only taken a few steps when he spoke again: "Squirtle, squirtle?"
Somehow, I sensed what he was asking so curiously. Without turning back to him, I replied with amusement: "Yes, Squirtle, I won that first fight... on points."
As soon as I entered the tent, I was startled by a black shadow that slipped in right behind me. It nearly gave me a heart attack, but fortunately, it was just a yawning Houndour, who promptly collapsed next to my sleeping bag. Haunter watched my reaction with amusement, a wide, glowing grin on his face. In return, I just gave him an appreciative scratch on the head.
"Great job, Haunter. You're really good," I praised him. "Keep an eye on us tonight, please. If anything happens, wake us up immediately."
"Haunt, haunter!" he promised and flew through the tent canvas out into the darkness.
Houndour didn't react. He lay contentedly with his eyes closed while I crawled into my sleeping bag. I fell asleep with thoughts of today. Although the ending had been quite horrific, exhaustion was stronger—I knew I would sleep perfectly. My last thought belonged to what I had said to Squirtle. I had spoken it with such certainty, as if I had truly lived it. That memory floated into my consciousness completely naturally.
Perhaps the acquired memories were beginning to merge with my own consciousness?
***
In the morning, I was woken by a damp alarm clock—a hungry and drooling Houndour.
"I'm coming, that's enough," I pushed him away sleepily as I woke up. I stretched with a yawn. I felt only the pleasant after-effects of muscle soreness from Pewter and was incredibly thirsty. I lay there dazed for a moment longer, but when Houndour prepared for another attack, I slowly began to get up.
When I stepped out of the tent, it was just dawning. I didn't see Haunter anywhere, but Squirtle was curled up in his shell a short distance from the fire pit. As soon as he heard us, he peeked out.
"Squirtle, squirt!"
"Good morning. I see you slept well," I greeted him.
"Squirt!" he confirmed with a nod and lifted his empty bowl. Apparently, Houndour wasn't the only one hungry, so I set about preparing breakfast.
"Haunt!" came a shout directly in my ear.
I turned to him calmly: "Good morning to you too, Haunter."
I had to laugh when I saw his grinning face turn into a look of disappointment.
"You'll definitely get me next time," I said with a laugh.
"Houndour!" "Squirtle!" the others joined in amusedly.
Haunter snorted indignantly and flew into my shadow.
"Alright, boys, a quick breakfast and then we continue to the Pokémon Center," I announced. Following their enthusiastic cries, I started cooking. We ate quickly, extinguished the fire, packed up camp, and set off along Route 3. We walked for only a short while; visibility was great, the sun was warm, and the morning song of bird Pokémon echoed from everywhere. Since it was truly beautiful, I decided on a jog.
"Guys, let's do a bit of running for training!" I commanded.
"Houndour!" he barked enthusiastically, while Squirtle began to protest. After a moment, however, he collected himself and nodded determinedly: "Squirtle!"
We started running. Houndour ran ahead and then back to us, enjoying the movement, while I had to slow down after a while. Squirtle simply couldn't keep up, but after every one of Haunter's taunts, he determinedly tried to run further.
After a few minutes of jogging, we spotted a Pokémon Center in the distance. It stood right before the entrance to Mount Moon. It was significantly smaller than those in the cities. As I approached, I noticed I was no longer the only one for miles around. A short distance ahead of us stood an elderly gentleman in blue robes with a water tank. It seemed to me there was a dollar sign on the sign next to him.
As I slowly drew closer, I noticed he was bald and had a long white beard, but despite his age, he seemed to be in excellent condition. As soon as I was a few meters from him, he jumped as if he had springs for knees and immediately started shouting.
"Good morning, young man!"
I calmly stepped closer and returned the greeting: "Good morning."
In the tank next to him, Magikarp were swimming. They moved contentedly from side to side, as if they didn't even mind the small space and limited volume of water. The tank wasn't the smallest, but compared to a river or the sea...
"Oh, the young man has excellent vision!" he continued with a smile. "We have excellent and strong Magikarp here, which will surely grow into mighty Gyarados!" He paused for a moment, spread his arms, and added: "Only one hundred dollars each. A great price!"
"Where did you get them?" I asked curiously.
"From Mount Moon, of course," he replied with a broad grin. "They can be caught in the underground rivers of the mountain, off the usual paths. And these... these are exceptionally strong, since they live in such a hostile place," he concluded with a wink. I would have sworn that for a fraction of a second, Poké-dollar symbols flashed in his eyes.
I ran my fingers over my chin and thought for a moment. Finally, however, I nodded.
***
Author's note:
A little bit of motivation for Squirtle—first battles are always filled with panic, heavy breathing, and a bit of a dreamlike blur... Where do you think Squirtle actually comes from, considering what a "princess" he's being? We'll find out in time. What do you think, will we have a Gyarados in the team?
I'm glad I managed to finish today's chapter; things have been pretty hectic for me lately.
***
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22. Lessons and Hard Knocks
23. Ten Thousand Kicks
24. A World in Monochrome
25. The Stoic's Resolve
26. Claws in the Clearing
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