Chương 91: Chapter 73

As was tradition by this point, we took our training to the ocean. Techne's black sand beaches sprawled out before us, dreary and abandoned, even though Spring was a mere three days away. It made sense. The water was still bitterly cold, as I could attest as Mana hauled me out of the surf, sputtering and shivering. Luckily, the nurses at the Pokémon Center let me put my damp clothes and towel through one of their dryers, giving me an unsoaked outfit to change into.

One wardrobe swap later, and it was time for our standard routine. Most of my partners got started warming up right away, well-used to our training plan. My knights immediately launched into a series of brutal physical exercises that would have left me gasping and heaving. Mana wasn't far behind them, diving back into the surf and alternating between swimming through the water and the air.

Lastly, Maushold dug down, burrowing through the iron sand as if it were soft loam, quickly undermining a nearby area, and then filling it back in. Which just left me. And the newest members of our family. Normally I'd do a little bit of conditioning of my own, but Klang clearly needed some guidance, judging by the way they stared in complete incomprehension at my hustling partners.

"I guess exercise makes a lot less sense when you don't have muscles to develop, right?" I asked the hovering Steel-type. They made a rumbling sound of confusion that got a small laugh out of me.

"Us squishy types can make ourselves slightly less squishy by repeatedly breaking down and repairing parts of our body," I explained, punctuating my statement by flexing my biceps.

"Klang?" the two gears asked plainly.

"Really, no lie," I promised them.

"I know for purely metal-based species like yours, the concept might seem strange, but it's true." They mulled over that for a few moments, spinning against one another in a wobbly fashion that I was quickly coming to realize denoted confusion.

"Klalang?" they asked, vibrating against one another as they spoke. It took me a few tries to parse exactly what they were asking, but when I finally understood, I shook my head.

"Don't worry, I know physical conditioning doesn't exactly help your development, but that doesn't mean you don't have something you can work on to get stronger."

"Klang?" they asked, their four eyes alight with curiosity.

"Your magnetism!" I explained, gesturing down at the iron sand of the beach below them. It was visibly shuddering, as the repulsive energies that let Klang float pushed against the ferrous particulate.

"It's how you move around, and a big component of a bunch of your moves and capabilities. If you want to improve and grow, increasing the strength of your magnetism, and the speed at which you can change your polarities, will make a world of difference." Their spinning stabilized at my words, and their eyes glowed as they grasped exactly what I was saying.

"And luckily for us, there's plenty of material here for us to practice with," I pointed again to the trembling sand.

"This stuff is highly magnetized, which means it'll be a great material to train with. So for now, let's see exactly how much sand you can manipulate to get a baseline."

"Klang," they agreed resolutely, their bodies vibrating with eager energy. -"Alright, now set it down slowly."

"Klklang!" the pair of gears rumbled, as they strove to follow my direction. The huge bundle of magnetized particulate they were holding aloft slowly sunk back to the surface of the beach, sifting back into stillness as my newest partners relaxed their magnetic hold.

"Good, how did that feel? Close to your maximum limit?" I asked, looking up from my notebook at the wobbling Steel-type. We'd done a few preliminary exercises to help them get a grasp on exactly what I was asking, but it wasn't until I'd promised to record their results and track their progress that they really got into it. Both gears clearly enjoyed having a standard to measure up against, which reflected a sense of self-competitiveness that I could well understand.

My knights were similar, if a little bit more intrinsically motivated, so it was a method I was well-familiar with by this point, and one of my training notebooks was quickly filled with dates and exercises and numbers. It was tough to get an exact weight on how much iron sand Klang could lift, but I could measure the volume of material they were excavating and condensing, which gave us some rough estimates. It was easier to evaluate their fine control, and to measure their top speed.

I forced them to approach each of the exercises without the use of a boosting move initially, as a way of establishing a baseline, and after we had solid numbers there, I let them power up a bit to track its effects on their performance. Unfortunately, the only way of in-battle strengthening that Klang knew was a move the Hoenn PokéDex recognized as Autotomize, which seemed to involve the two gears aligning their magnetic polarity to increase their rotation speed.

From there, the pair could shoot of in any direction at high speed, though they had a hard time controlling their momentum in their boosted state. It did substantially increase their top speed, but it did little to help them with their magnetic control. As I helpfully informed them though, that wasn't necessarily a bad thing. Just because they didn't have a move yet that aligned with this facet of their experience, didn't mean there wasn't one to learn! They'd just have to work at it.

That idea had them eager to figure something out, and we spent a solid hour experimenting and varying their magnetic control, trying to develop something out of it that could coalesce into a useable move. They weren't showing a ton of signs of progress, but even just the act of experimenting seemed exciting to the quivering Steel-type. And it wasn't all that hard to deduce why.

Whenever the pair began slowing down or sagging, I'd pull out a portable battery that the Pokémon Center had been generous enough to provide me with. My newest partners had drained about half of its charge so far, and I'd need to plug it in tonight to make sure it was ready for tomorrow, but the revitalizing electricity housed within the hefty device kept Klang going and going.

And they were clearly reveling in the easy access to power, eager to stretch their limits and figure out just what they could do now that their next meal wasn't uncertain or under threat. A distant part of my mind was running through the memory now, something half-grasped and only vaguely understood from the fleeting moments we'd spent connected by the shadow synergy stone they'd been infected with. Privation. Desperation. Despair.

I was fortunate, I'd never experienced hunger, true starvation, like my newest partners had. The analogues weren't exactly the same, they had no muscles for their body to cannibalize, no cells to collapse and fail. But their internal battery running dry was death for them the same way an empty stomach would eventually be for me, and it was just as slow, just as painful. Klang preserve power by rotating against one another, manipulating their magnetic fields to create a crude coil.

The electricity they house gives them the power they need to induce those magnetic fields in the first place, which in turn gives them a way to store said electricity. The loop is efficient, but not perfectly so. Some of the power is lost to power the of spinning of their gears, and without fresh electricity, the pair will eventually grind to a halt. And to a Klang, that cessation is death. Not immediately, not instantly.

Klang can hold still for brief periods without losing all of their charge, and if the spinning stops due to a lack of energy, they don't die immediately. But the process is quick. Devastatingly so. Pilfered memories kept me keenly aware that my newest partners had a first-hand sense of just how abrupt that starvation could be, and it made their willingness to expend so much energy at my request all the more humbling.

They were putting a lot of trust in me, in the promises I'd made to them, and I once again swore to myself that I'd uphold those vows, no matter what. -"This is Mana, you've already met Maushold, and these are my knights. And I'm Fe, which is short for Fione. It's nice to meet you." The format introduction seemed to catch Klang off-guard, but they dipped their bodies in something that I thought might be an approximation of a nod, and rumbled out one of their own: "Klang."

"So like I said, a little bit about me. I'm thirteen years old, and I'm–" I hesitated, my mind catching for a moment on my current status before finally settling– "a Pokémon trainer. That means I help Pokémon like you and my partners here get stronger, and in return, you watch out for me, and help me out in Pokémon battles."

"Klang!?" the question was sharp, short, and rang with shock. I blinked a few times, unsure of exactly what'd been asked, but a bit of pantomime from Maushold conveyed the question effectively.

"Like a Battle Trainer?" The hovering gears quivered eagerly, and it gutted me to disappoint them.

"In some ways yes, but in many ways no," I informed the Steel-types, wobbling my hand back and forth. That uncertain answer got a confused grinding noise from Klang, so I hastened to continue my explanation.

"Battle Trainers compete specifically in Ferrum Battles, which use synergy stones and are fought one-on-one." My explanation was received with eager grinding, and I could practically see lights shining in both gear's eyes.

"You're familiar?" I guessed, and the pair clamored their confirmation.

"Very familiar– how long were you two camped out at the stadium?" That got some sideways glances and uncertain wobbling. For a few seconds, I thought they didn't actually know how long they'd been there, but I quickly realized that their motions were similar to the way they'd spun when I called them cute. They were embarrassed!

"I know you're not technically supposed to take electricity from human-populated areas, but I promise not to tell, okay," I reassured them, putting a finger up to my lips and pantomiming a closing zipper. It took a little bit more coaxing, but eventually they told me that they'd spent almost six months loitering in the bowels of the stadium, being sheltered by the friendly camera-Magnemite that worked there after their latest brush with starvation.

"And the Magnemite said the staff would have just kicked you out if they found you?" I asked, making sure I understood correctly. The pair nodded solemnly, and I felt something heavy slithering in my gut.

"Well– it sounds like you had some good friends. Would you– do you want to see them again? To go back?"

"Klang!" The denial was immediate and ringing. It reverberated in the small treatment room for a few seconds, echoing back and forth until the sound finally petered out. A few seconds of silence persisted, and then the Steel-types broke it once again.

"Klanganag, Klanggangkl." The statement was complicated, and had a lot of nuance that I couldn't grasp right away.

"Washi, wawash," Mana spoke in my stead, opening a dialogue that Maushold quickly jumped in on as well. I could mostly grasp what my partners were saying, but Klang's exact meaning mostly eluded me. Still, half the conversation and context clues were enough for me to get a grasp on what was being said.

"I'm sure they didn't think of you as a burden," I echoed Mana's sentiment, though my words didn't hold the same heat as her own.

"If they were watching out for you for that long– that's not charity. That's love." The two gears stuttered for a moment, flinching as if struck, before their spinning restarted, an agitated whirl that spoke to churning emotions.

"Klang klang Ang," they informed us, their voice dropped low.

"Washi? Washiwash?" Mana asked, confirming that she'd heard right. Further confirmation from Klang made her expression turn thunderous, and I could feel a similar scowl settling on my own features.

"I'm sorry they got hurt protecting you, but it's not your fault, it's Scythe's." As soon as they name left my lips, the two gears looked up, their steel pupils wide.

"Klang?" they asked, their question direct and simple.

"Yeah, we know him. He's part of the danger I mentioned, and the battles. He's trying to hurt someone important to me, and we're going to stop him."

"Klang," the declaration was resolute, and as unyielding as my newest partners' steel bodies.

"We'll stop him together then," I agreed, "but are you sure you don't want to go back and at least tell them you're okay? We can be at the stadium in a little over an hour." They ground their body in a way I was quickly coming to recognize as a negative, but with a small addition to it.

"Not yet?" I guessed.

"Klang," they nodded.

"Klangang." That was equally clear. Someday, but not yet. This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

"Alright, I understand. We'll go together, when you're ready, okay?"

"Klang." - After that, I'd expounded on how Battle Trainers and Pokémon Trainers were similar and distinct. My newest partners had been understandably let down when I told them they couldn't fight in the same way as the competitors they'd watched in the stadium, but the disappointment was undercut by an odd sense of relief, that might have had something to do with the way the pair shied away from the synergy stone on my bracelet, whenever my right sleeve rode up enough to expose it to open air.

They were excited to learn that there would be challenges and exciting fights ahead, once things in Ferrum stabilized enough for the underleague's to crop back up again. Or, as was seemingly more likely, once I settled down with my family in a region far away from this one. That was a thought that I kept firmly on the backburner, however, as I finished exactly what I was expecting from my newest partner, and what they'd get in return.

If anything, the hovering gears seemed relieved that they'd need to 'earn' their electricity with training and battles. I didn't phrase it that way initially of course, but it quickly became clear to me that six months of imposing on the generosity of their fellow Steel-types had conditioned my newest partner towards avoidance for anything they thought of as charity.

I did make sure to emphasize that I'd never deprive them, and that my only expectation was that they tried their hardest, but it wasn't clear to me how well they understood my perspective. We'd get there though, of that I was certain, and the twinned gears certainly had no objections to hard work, judging by the way they trained and strove under my supervision.

Whether it was conditioning their magnetism, exploring the limits of their admittedly limited movepool, or holding spars and mock battles, they took to them all like Mana to the sea. My partners matched their enthusiasm, gleefully showing off their own capabilities and regaling the newcomer with stories of their trials and accomplishments.

A spot guess would have me say that Klang were weaker than Mana, my knights, and Maushold, but they weren't too far off from the latter, and I was confident that they could catch up to the rest in no time, judging by how eagerly they stretched their own limits. It made me feel guilty, that my entire focus couldn't be on the day's training session. I wanted to put my problems out of my mind, to narrow down into the here and the now, but my disparate thoughts had too much agency, too much autonomy for me to control.

Even as one part of me directed a brief exchange of blows between my knights and Klang, shouting instructions to both of them on move and counter-move, other parts of my psyche were examining the ways we might chase down my missing father. And that wasn't even to mention the parts of me worrying about Alyssa and how she hadn't called me, or the ones controlling my hands to write a brief letter to Drake outlining our current circumstances in more detail and the specifics of the aid I needed from him.

So it was almost a relief, when a shiver went up my spine, and a spectral interruption refocused my attention away from the spiraling uncertainty.

"Thanks for not sneaking up on me, Rhea," I told the Dragapult, as a familiar croaking laugh came from behind me. I felt a weight settle on my head, and a cold body enveloping my back. Whispers and susurrations played in my ear as I set my stance to support the additional mass, but in spite of my best efforts, my feet sank a centimeter into the gritty sand below..

"You know, you're not a Dreepy, Rhea, you're pretty heavy." A chorus of mock-gasps played in my ear, along with a tittering from two voices more distinct than the rest.

"Pult!" Rhea croaked in a sulky voice, the draconic spirit clearly put-out by my words. I couldn't help the laugh that escaped my lips, one that almost broke into a sob as some of the tightly-wound tension I was keeping wired in my guts found an outlet through my mouth. I heard a satisfied slurping noise in my ears, and it felt like some of the weight came off my shoulders, even as the Dragapult leaned down on me even harder.

"This is what I mean. I asked you to come carry a message, and you feed on me like this? Such a glutton Rhea, no wonder you're gaining weight."

"Drag," he replied primly, the word clear and resounding in my mind. Payment.

"Can't you take it on credit?" I asked, trying to keep my tone light.

"Dragapult," I could feel the Dragon-type shaking his head atop mine, even though I couldn't see it.

"Surely I don't look that delicious," I protested weakly, something catching in my throat. Freezing claws pierced my winter jacket, settling soothingly over my stomach, and the churning ball of anxiety, hate, and resentment I was brewing there.

"Drag?" they asked, real concern leaking through their voice, even as they too fought to stay upbeat.

"That bad," I confirmed, struggling to keep my tone level. Dragapult weren't often thought of as nurturing Pokémon, they shot their 'young' as projectiles, after all. But that ignored the fact that they had to carry those 'young,' nesting them inside their own bodies. That was a level of care beyond most Pokémon, to say nothing of the fact that Dragapult were Ghost-types. To be inside a Gengar, or a Cofagrigus, or a Dusknoir, that was death.

To be enveloped by a Dragapult– wasn't life, exactly, but it was calm, in a way I hadn't felt in days. Not since finding out my mom had been hurt. Not since learning that my best friend was in some kind of danger. It was reassurance, that someone was watching out for me. That things could turn out alright, in the end.

"This is for Drake," tore a page out of my notebook, passing it to the teal specter without turning my head.

"My dad has– made enemies out of some very powerful people. He can't stay in Ferrum. We can't. We need to get out of the region in a hurry, and I was hoping Drake could help." I heard the sounds of something being folded and tucked away, and the soothing weight on my shoulders gradually lessened, as Rhea slowly hovered away from me.

"Dragapult," he reassured me, his voice quiet against the pounding surf.

"Thanks Rhea," I told him, as I felt something untwist inside of me. One problem potentially addressed. Just however many left to go. I turned to face the draconic specter, only to be confronted with an empty stretch of beach. The only evidence Rhea had even been here at all was a torn page in my notebook, and a little bit of extra length added to my shadow. And yet I felt lighter now. Like something had been lifted from me, even if I was still, in many senses, weighed down down.

I turned away, back towards my hustling partners. Rhea would do his part, as would Drake. I was sure of it. Now, I just had to do mine. - Alyssa had stubbornly refused to respond to my messages, so I took the natural next step. Showing up at her apartment. Surprisingly, no one answered when I rang the doorbell, but I was equipped for this eventuality.

Alyssa had given me a spare key when this whole series of events had kicked off, and I made good use of that privilege now, unlocking the door and pushing into the apartment.

"Alyssa! Mrs. Peters?!" I called out as I entered, "I'm coming in!" My announcement apparently went unheeded, and it quickly became apparent that no one was in the apartment. It took me an embarrassingly long time to remember that Sundays were Mrs. Peter's days off, but that didn't explain where Alyssa was. Judging by the condition of her room, she'd never made it back last night, after her and Mr. Gima set out to raid her cousin's estate.

It was nearly noon now, and as I paced uneasily through the apartment, I felt a pit of worry forming in my gut at my best friend's continued lack of communication. Had she been captured? Or worse? It seemed unlikely. I knew how strong Mr. Gima was. So why hadn't Alyssa responded to me yet? Was it possible that she just– hadn't woken up yet? It didn't seem likely to me, but it was hardly impossible. Frankly, I was pretty tired myself.

I settled down on the couch in the living room, my exhaustion from the last couple of days catching up with me. I'd locked the door when I came in, right? Surely it'd be fine to take a quick nap while I waited for my best friend to return. Just as I was settling into the couch, I felt something sharp and cold and biting dig into my back. A creeping sense of unease infecting my psyche, one for which I could not identify a source.

Some small, niggling voice in the back of my head was vaguely audible, disgruntled and disquieted and just generally not ready for sleep. The muttering voice struggled to pierce the veil of relaxation that'd overtaken me, but it was just loud enough to get me to stagger upright.

"Bed," I murmured, Alyssa's comfortable four-poster standing out in my memory for some reason. I dragged myself along the apartment's hallways, tracking towards my best friend's bedroom. My shadow stretched out in front of me, almost like it was pulling me along, darting ahead of me through the dimly-lit corridors in fits and spurts.

I found myself in Alyssa's bedroom, and her comfortable-looking bed awash with plushes stood out to me like a shimmering beacon, a magnificent place to lay in repose, awaiting my best friend's return. But hadn't I just sworn to myself that I was done with waiting? That it was time to take action, not let things happen? I took one step towards the bed. Then another. A third. I landed atop the opulent sheets, my fingers digging into the sinfully soft comforter. It would be so easy to lay my head down.

To let the sweet embrace of sleep take hold of me. But did I really deserve to rest? Nerveless fingers tightened around the Pikachu-patterned blanket, hauling it up and over me, even as my knees and legs powered on, pushing my body further, further, until there was no bed left. I landed in a heap on the floor on the other side of the four-poster, and while most of my brain was experiencing only exhaustion and confusion, a very small, very determined part of my psyche had seized control of my legs.

With my shadow screaming out ahead of me, I tore out of the tangle of blankets, most of my mind a dull observer as my body hurled itself forwards. Towards the other side of the room. Where a desk lay sitting, pushed up against the back wall. Right– below– the– fourth-story– window. With a crash of shattering glass, I was airborne. Nothing to wake you up like the bracing winter air whistling by your body as you hurtled towards the ground.

A howl ripped itself free from my throat, half confusion, half fear, half accusation. I spun as I flew, because landing on my back was better than having it turned to the threat after me. And there he was, staring out of the shattered window with a bemused expression on his bearded face. Scythe, his cold, evaluating gaze following my descent towards the ground. A fall from four stories up takes seconds. Less than seconds. One and some change.

I didn't have long to even consider regretting my choice before my back impacted with the ground, the unforgiving pavement barely cushioned by a scant few centimeters of snowfall, and a feeling like something below me, slowing my fall, for just a second. If I had any less syn, that might have been the end of me right there. As it was, my back was screaming as I rolled to the side, barely dodging a Psybeam that tore out of the window to my landing point.

And that was enough time for my partners to shake off the hypnosis as well, a dozen and a hundred bodies appearing around me in flashes of rage and light. I didn't hesitate.

"Fighting retreat!" I commanded, my partners moving in reflex at my command. Mana's school enveloped me, before hurtling off down the street, as a barrage of stones, seeds, and after a moment, electricity covered our escape. Flashes of red light collected my partners, moments before a Hitmonchan and Hitmonlee landed in their midst.

They lashed out with hammer blows that would have sent my Pokémon flying had they still been there, only for them to disappear in a moment as well, vanishing into two balls held by Scythe as he flew after us, his Golbat easily carrying the man by its two-toed feet.

"Not the catch I was hoping for, but fine bait for the hook, eh?" the man's mocking voice called out behind me.

"You've got damn good instincts girlie, so why don't you listen to 'em and give up now?" I didn't bother responding. The quaver in my voice would have given that monster validation he clearly didn't need. Thoughts of what he'd done, of what he'd go on to do, made me want to stop and confront him. To fight and scream and rage against this foul creature in human guise. But I knew better than that. While Scythe hadn't been able to stand up to Mr. Gima, he'd still bloodied the Unovan man's partners.

And that wasn't to mention that he had six Pokémon to my four, including a powerful illusionist and– a– teleporter…" Mana, 180!" I screamed, my voice wrenching the water around me almost before Mana herself directed the school. We executed a perfect flip-turn, just in time for the school's tail to get sheared off by a gleaming scythe.

"Damn, you are a clever one," Scythe leered as he appeared as if from thin air, flanked by a Scyther and a Hypno.

"Slow 'em down, Number three." The real Golbat that'd been behind, and was now ahead of us, let loose a blistering glare in our direction, and I grit my teeth as I felt the Mean Look take hold." Golbat!" I directed my partners as my hands flew, releasing them around us. They let loose a blistering barrage that was only blocked by Scythe's two Fighting-types. The pair of Pokémon ate the attacks as they descended, released from the Poké Balls clutched in Golbat's toes.

The pair landed, looking winded for the attacks they'd taken. They both winced as they stood, but neither was out of the fight, and they took on easy stances in spite of the hits they'd just received.

The Fighting-types bracketed us in, forming one end of the enclosure on the open street, while Scythe and his other three Pokémon held the other. A small no-man's land opened up between the killer's team and mine, as my partners formed up around Mana and I.

"City Security will be here any second Scythe," I shouted at the criminal.

"You're a wanted man. Time to get out of here."

"Heh, as far as anyone with eyes is concerned, this whole street is closed for construction, courtesy of this little tool here," the monster pointed at a patch of empty space, though I had no doubts of whom he was referring to.

"Are you sure about that?" I asked, before sucking in a deep breath. Scythe frowned, but before he could say whatever he'd been about to retort with, the word left my lips." Truth." My voice echoed, resounding through the entire street in spite of the high pitch. Shaking off the Hypnosis had drained me. The fall had drained me. My earlier commands had drained me. But I had enough left for this.

With not a crash, nor a boom, but a whimper, the illusion ensconcing us collapsed, borne down by the overwhelming weight of reality. The truth reasserted itself, as the Zoroark's facade fell away. Half-concealed injuries bloomed on Scythe and his Pokémon, splints and bruises and weeping bandages exposed to the harsh winter light. People on either end of the block stopped to take in the encounter happening in the middle of the street, eyes drawn by the scene conjured before their very eyes.

Pedestrians and drivers who'd been scratching their heads at the 'road closed' sign stared now instead at nearly a dozen Pokémon and two people pinned in a lethal standoff. And it hadn't even been twenty-four hours since Scythe's attack on Mechry stadium. Someone pointed at him and screamed, and suddenly everyone was scrambling away from the confrontation, voices raised and PokéGears out.

"Mr. Gima said that word might help," I laughed through a blood-choked throat.

"Ferrum sees you, Scythe. Your partners are still hurt from yesterday, and mine are fresh. It's time to run." The killer stared at me for a few seconds, before ruefully shaking his head.

"Well well, aren't you full of surprises? I figured I'd just take you hostage, but I guess you're too dangerous for that," His eyes sharpened, and all sense of humor dropped abruptly from his guise.

"When your dear, dear mother wakes up, I'm going to enjoy telling her how you died, just before I slit her throat." Cold rage seized me, and I felt Mana's myriad bodies writhe and squirm with anger. My knights slammed their shields against one another, and a low, grinding groan came from Klang as sparks erupted from their whirling form. Of Maushold, there was no sign at all.

"Nevermind," I spat at the man, as the stone on my wrist bloomed with light beneath my sleeve.

"You don't get to run. This ends here."" You end here," Scythe disagreed, as he patted his Scyther on one green-carapaced shoulder.

"Tools. Kill them." And with a simultaneous roar of cruel exultation, they were on us.