Sunny was eager to battle after seeing Darren lose. She brought out Coral, petting her affectionately. The Mareanie reluctantly left Sunny’s embrace, tentacles trailing across her hands before she took her place on the field. Ducky returned her Rookidee and paused to think for a moment. Then she clicked open a different pokeball.

  “Go Hawlucha!”

  A brightly coloured, uncanny flying-type burst out with a squawk. I suppressed a shiver, the claws and feathers were especially monstruous to me on the humanoid body.

  “Hawlucha is a toughie but he's quite prideful,” said Ducky to Sunny. “He'll earn a name when he decides I'm worth listening to. For now, would you do me the favour of showing him why we're called trainers?”

  “Sure, I mean, if I can. I’m ready.”

  Darren gave the signal to start and Ducky immediately told Hawlucha to focus on flying-type moves. Coral raised her tentacles, their spikes taking on the characteristic purple sheen. Hawlucha went right into them, his clawed hand coming down in a Karate Chop. He hit Coral squarely on the head, but not without being lashed by several Poison Stings. He retreated breathing heavily. Coral gave a triumphant squeak looking none the worse for the wear.

  “Take a moment to Roost, then get back in there with a Wing Attack,” said Ducky. Once more, her Pokémon ignored her, going straight for the attack again.

  “Try to grab him, Coral,” said Sunny.

  Hawlucha came down with the same movement as previously, though faster and harder. I guessed it was either a fully-fledged Brick Break, or close to it. The hit knocked Coral back causing her to loosen her tentacles, letting her opponent get away. She whimpered and drooped a little.

  “It’s okay, Coral. We’ll get catch him next time,” said Sunny, perking her up.

  Neither Pokémon was unhurt. Coral was still shaking off the blow, and Hawlucha was limping, one of his legs turning a nasty shade of purple. Undeterred, he launched himself at Coral.

  “End it, Coral!” said Sunny.

  The Mareanie took Hawlucha’s hit but managed to wrap herself around him. Her spines swelled up, and shot out a noxious liquid, drenching her enemy. Hawlucha shuddered and went limp without even making a sound.

  “Hawlucha is unable to battle, Sunny and Coraline win,” said Darren. Sunny ran to Coral and scooped her into a tight embrace. Ducky went over to Hawlucha with a potion and antidote.

  “Jeez, you’re nastier than you look. Was that Venoshock at the end?” she asked as she applied them.

  “Yep, is Hawlucha okay?”

  “He’ll be fine, I told you he’s a toughie.”

  “About that, did you want to lose? I’m not sure I want to do something like that again,” said Sunny. Ducky laughed it off.

  “I didn’t want to lose. I would be delighted to win, but for that to happen Hawlucha would need to follow what I say. He has a preference for fighting-type moves anyway, so if I told him not to use them, he was sure to do the opposite.”

  “And they aren’t very effective against poison-types like Coral,” said Sunny.

  “Exactly. I’m always going to direct my Pokémon to the best of my ability. Which is very good. If Hawlucha doesn’t follow my guidance, he’s going to have to fight worse than his best. He’ll come around eventually. It’s just a question of pride.”

  Hawlucha stirred, finally regaining consciousness and Ducky returned him after telling him to take a rest.

  “Even with a Venoshock, though, I didn’t expect him to faint like that though,” said Ducky.

  “I think my Mareanie has the Merciless ability. She deals extra damage to poisoned targets.”

  “You really are nasty,” laughed Ducky. “I mean it as a compliment, by the way.”

  Ducky returned her Pokémon and turned to me. My arms shook at the thought of fighting either Rookie or Hawlucha, just watching them had been hard enough. I pre-emptively declined her offer to battle muttering I wasn’t quite ready. She accepted easily, and offered to cook for everyone as thanks for the training session. From the sudden panic that crossed my companions’ faces, they had clearly forgotten about dinner during the excitement. Darren started lighting a fire while Ducky fetched a large pot from a bag on the ground where she landed. I tried to get up to help, but stumbled. My limbs were numb, my fingers red, and there were gashes in the earth where I had been unconsciously clawing at it. Angry tears sprung unbidden to my eyes, accompanied by intense shame of my terror. Something only compounded by Sunny coming over to help me stand.

  “How are you holding up?” she asked.

  “I’m alright,” I lied. “I’ll get used to it. I have to.”

  “If you say so, but don’t push yourself,” she replied. “Also, I’ve a favour to ask you.”

  “What is it?”

  This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.

  “Well, I think we’re overdue a battle. Would you mind facing Hector?”

  “Of course, but, shouldn’t we help with...”

  “Don’t worry about us,” said Darren. “We’ve got things under control.”

  “Yeah, and I can watch while I prep,” added Ducky. “Also, Darren, I’d said I’d cooked, but if I’m making a big pot I’m going to need to borrow some ingredients. What d’you have with you?”

  We faced off, Mareep trotting to my side of the field and Hector waddling opposite her. I eyed the Wooper. Once more, electric moves would be useless. Hector’s defence was nowhere near Auri’s though, and he wouldn’t resist normal-type moves. We were limited with what we could do, but as long as we could avoid Mud Shot, which, as long as Sunny wasn’t hiding anything, was Hector’s only truly problematic move for us, we could wear them down with Tackle and Take Down.

  Darren was still blowing on smouldering twigs, so Ducky called for the beginning of the battle as she crushed some garlic. Hector opened with Mud Shot as expected. Unfortunately for us, rather than the single shot he used in his fight against Auri, it was closer to a spray of mud covering a large area. Mareep attempted to dodge out of the way, but was grazed and a clump of earth stuck to her leg.

  “Agility,” I said. She quickened, managing to dodge the next Mud Shot completely while shaking off the dirt slowing her down.

  “Keep them at a distance, Hector. They can’t keep running forever.”

  Sunny was right. The ground, which had already been upturned from the previous battles, was quickly turning into a muddy sludge which would hinder Mareep’s movement. We would have to go in strong and fast.

  “Use Take Down,” I said as the next salvo of Mud Shot came to a close. Mareep sped forwards. Hector attempted to fire off a Water Gun but was too slow. Mareep bowled him over, then staggered slightly. Her opponent was worse off, tumbling almost to Sunny’s feet. He was panting, but he managed to stand.

  “Again,” I yelled as he did.

  “Water Gun,” said Sunny.

  Before Mareep could cross the distance, Hector sprayed the ground in front of her and the wet soil turned into muck. Mareep’s leg sunk into the sludge halting her momentum. Another Water Gun further turned the field into a mire, the force of the water strong enough to splatter mud across my face and clothes.

  “Keep going, Mareep,” I said, wiping sludge from my eyes. Mareep cried out. I blinked and looked up. She had been hit by a Mud Shot, but was still moving. She danced out of the way of another one, finding stable ground to step on. Hector turned to fire once more and Mareep barrelled into him. He struggled to stand and before he fully could, Mareep hit him with a Tackle. He didn’t get up again.

  “And the match goes to Calla!” shouted Ducky. “Well fought.”

  Stumbling through the muck, I embraced Mareep, receiving a face full of wet wool for my trouble. I pulled back wrinkling my nose. She trembled, close to collapsing herself. I sprayed a potion over her bruises. The liquid sank into her skin, immediately working to alleviate her pain.

  “Let’s get you dry by the fire,” I told her, to which she agreed by rubbing her head on my chest.

  “It was a good battle,” I said to Sunny. She looked up from where she was tending to Hector. Her eyes sparkled before she blinked. Was she crying?

  “Yeah, good battle,” she replied. We shook hands, and her demeanour changed to cheerful and upbeat so quickly I decided I must have been mistaken.

  By this time, Darren had a decent flame going. All of the battlers were taking a well-deserved rest around the fire, even Ducky, after asking my approval let out her Pokémon. Her two most experienced members, Crest, the Pidgeot, and Down, which I learnt was a Togekiss, flew off to hunt, whereas her newer, thankfully much smaller members, mostly mingled with our Pokémon. Apart from the Hawlucha and Rookidee, she also had an Emolga she called Cheeks, and a Ducklett named Ducky Jr which settled on her head like a hat. They didn’t instill the same terror they had when they were fighting, but I still avoided them where possible.

  Darren and Sunny still had to finish putting up their own tents and I was left in the awkward position of not having anything in particular to do. To avoid standing around, I went over to Ducky to ask if she needed any help. She had some mushrooms that needed chopping. I fetched them from her bag and set about working beside her.

  “Ducky, can I, you’ve been a trainer for a long time, right?” I asked.

  “A while, I guess,” she said. “I’m not that old.”

  “But you’ve got lots of experience. Can I ask for some advice?”

  “Honestly, I’m not the best at giving advice, but you specifically, there’s something you’re missing. You’re training your Pokémon wrong.”

  I squashed the instinctive fury that flared up through my chest. Not while you’re holding a knife, I told myself.

  “What’s so bad about the way I train Mareep?”

  “Not bad, exactly. She’s well trained, but wrongly trained. I mean, unless I’ve completely misread the situation, I think you’ve taught her to react to the names of moves. This is important, but having to call out moves in a battle is a waste of time. When you’re Pokémon is face to face with their opponent, they should know what to do without the trainer saying a word. At least, that’s the ideal. The trainer is always going to have to guide the battle to some extent, telling the Pokémon when to switch to different strategies and so on, but if you have to dictate every beat, then you’re simply going to be way too slow. Generally, the less you have to speak, the better. Especially in the high level battles. Some of the Pokémon there are so quick you’re lucky to get a word in edgewise against them. Of course, this all depends on your style as well. Some trainers have a knack for slowing down the tempo of the fight almost to a standstill. In those cases, of course you can afford to direct your Pokémon more carefully, but ultimately, they should be able to fight for themselves if they are competently trained. Ninety-five percent of the battle takes place before you’re even on the field.”

  My face was heating up as she spoke. Everything she said seemed so obvious once it was spelled out to me. How stupid was I not to think of it before?

  “But, on the TV the trainers call out the moves they use,” I said, in a futile attempt to defend myself.

  “Well of course, this is a sport after all. Calling out moves is good showmanship. But I can guarantee you their Pokémon are moving before a sound has left their lips. On the topic, people try to use this to their advantage all the time. I’ve met trainers who only call out names of specific strategies, one that only ever said numbers, and a few who think they’re really smart and teach their Pokémon the wrong names for their moves to confuse the opponent. Most of these things are gimmicky and fall flat against an experienced trainer, but every now and then you come up against someone who manages to throw you off your game entirely. It’s quite annoying. You know how the Hero of Silín is said to have commanded his Pokémon with a flute? Naturally, there are a whole bunch of musicians who think they can do the same. The vast majority either sound terrible, or fight terribly, or more likely, both. But Pops did tell me stories of one rival he had when he was young. She’d come out with a mandolin and completely control the battle with her playing. It was all improvised on the spot, it had to be. And some combination of the melody, tone, dynamics, or I don’t know what else, gave instructions to her Pokémon so fast and clear she became a master at outmanoeuvring other trainers. According to Pops, she did this while sounding like she belonged in a concert hall or jazz club. He still doesn't know how she did it.”