Salad 2.2

Aaron FulanRoute 117, Hoenn Region

"Umm… Why is there a bag over your kirlia's head?" a curious farm boy asked. He wore a wide-brim straw hat to protect himself from the sun and a pair of overalls with one strap broken. He had a dopey smile on his face that reminded me of a slowpoke.

'That is unkind, my liege,' I heard Artoria admonish in my mind.

'Yeah, you're right. I guess after days of this, I'm getting tired of people being overly curious.'

It was something I noticed immediately about the pokémon world that differed from my own. Back in Arlington, there was no way in hell a stranger would just come up to chat like this, especially not if I looked as crazy as I did now. No one wanted extra trouble for themselves and someone who walked around with a bag over his head would have been given a wide berth, even by the people trying to sell something.

'This… Arlington… It does not sound like a friendly place.'

'It was peaceful enough, but compared to here? No, no it was not. People weren't mean, just… transactional? Yeah, that's a good word for it. If you didn't have something they wanted, either in the form of professional connections or social clout, you weren't worth their time.'

'Your world sounds unpleasant. How can one live a fulfilling life that way? It sounds like a world where chivalry and ethics take a backseat to selfishness.'

'I suppose from your point of view, it does. And in a way, you're not wrong. But that isn't to say there weren't good people there either. It was just a little more pragmatic than this one. I didn't know any better though, so this world just seems even better in comparison now,' I said gently.

And that had been a doozy of a chat. A day into our trek through Route 117, I suggested that Artoria should dive even deeper into my mind, picking up my sword techniques. She did, and by extension came into contact with the full length of my history. I told Jeanne and Artoria about everything that night, staying up until the wee hours of the morning to cover it all. The games. Anime. Manga. Magma. Aqua. The Legends. All that I knew. All that could happen, in all their paradoxical, contradictory detail.

Everything.

In the end, my pokémons' chuuni personalities helped me out. To Artoria, my wealth of knowledge and experience made me a more worthy lord, especially since said knowledge and experience granted us a massive lead on the location of a gardevoirite. Jeanne? She didn't care. To be clear, she understood, she wasn't dumb despite her simplistic worldview. She just decided that an ampharos-to-be who was as splendid and radiant as her deserved an equally splendid and radiant trainer.

Chuuni, both of them, and I loved them both to bits.

I felt Artoria's spoon jab painfully into my shin. 'I still do not understand what that word means precisely, but I know when I am being insulted.'

'It's cute and I love you more for being the chuunis you are,' I told her, sending a flood of adoring emotions through the bond. I felt her face flush as her mind dealt with the psychic equivalent of hugs and headpats.

I didn't watch her flush. I felt her flush and devolve into a stammering wreck of embarrassment as her higher brain functions went on a coffee break. Her emotions swapped between being happy, embarrassed, embarrassed that she was embarrassed, indignant anger at my teasing, back to being happy at the intimacy of our connection, then finally settled on petulant sulking when she realized I was still mentally rolling on the floor laughing.

"Umm… hello?"

I was drawn back to the real world by the farm boy's question. He looked a little unnerved now and I realized that while Artoria and I were having our exchange, my face hadn't changed at all. I had, for all intents and purposes, stared the boy down without blinking once.

"Huh, no wonder people think psychics are weird," I muttered.

"Huh?"

"Sorry, kid. I was having a mental chat with my kirlia."

"I'm not a kid!"

"Sorry, just… we're training, alright?"

"Whatever, weirdo," he grumbled as he stalked off. Wasn't the first one. Wouldn't be the last.

We'd been switching off sensory deprivation between us for days now and we'd more or less gotten used to controlling our bodies while in the other's headspace. We were even good enough to practice some katas, her with her spoon and me with bokken I'd picked up in a sporting goods store. Kendo wasn't very popular outside of Kanto but finding goods to meet niche hobbies was the main perk of a metropolis like Mauville.

X

If simply walking from place to place doubled as training for Artoria, it was only fair that I used our rest stops and lunch breaks to plan a training regimen for Jeanne. The biggest immediate challenge was coming up with a contest routine, one simple enough that even a young mareep can perform it while still being stimulating enough to pass the appeals round.

Truthfully, I didn't expect to win the first contest. Contests were very different from battles; simply being the strongest wasn't enough, not that I was guaranteed of that either. No, there was a certain showmanship and pageantry that was expected of these routines and I wasn't sure I had the knack for it. The best I could do was to incorporate every one of Jeanne's moves in a bombastic display of sound and color, playing off her natural flamboyance and hoping for the best. We'd get around to refining things after learning what worked and what didn't.

"Okay, ready, Jeanne?"

"Mareep!"

Artoria and I stood a safe distance from the energetic electric type. We'd both taken a few unpleasant jolts on accident from being too close.

"Alright then. Electric Terrain!"

"Maa-REEP!" she cried out, releasing the electricity she'd been storing all day in her wool, tail, and horns.

A bubble of electricity flared out from her, chagrining the ground beneath her and… little else. Her terrain extended a full six feet in all directions, but that was a pittance compared to the size of a full battlefield or contest stage. I doubted she'd be able to increase her range until she evolved. Disappointing, but expected.

'Perhaps you should not expect her to match the power of a Legend, my lord.'

'I won't,' I promised. Artoria was right of course. In the anime, Tapu Koko had covered an entire temple in rainbow light. The terrain was so perfect that there was almost no distinction between the floor and the sky, just a dimension of rainbow color. As I'd come to learn in this world, the lack of random static discharge was proof of the Melemele Guardian's masterful control. It proved that the Mr. Thundercock could manipulate the charge in the earth even after using the move, and even against the physical laws demanding energy be discharged. 'Unreasonable expectations will only make her burn herself out. Besides, just being able to use the move at all is impressive for her age.'

We'd just have to work with what we had.

"Okay, now Cotton Spore!"

With an enthusiastic cry, she fired off the woolen balls in every direction. The balls were themselves covered in a residual charge from the electric sheep. A dizzying array of ground-to-air lightning launched from the Electric Terrain, lighting up the balls and keeping them in the air longer than gravity would like.

Not long, but long enough to send a cascade of light and shadow over the rest stop.

Jeanne was no master, not yet. She had no control over the way the terrain acted on the woolen balls.

So, I decided instead to make it a feature of our act. Wool, contrary to popular belief, wasn't flammable. It was airy, but the proteins and fibers that made it up just didn't burn. A high enough heat could manage to melt it, but quick bursts of electricity wouldn't cut it, certainly not a mareep's wool that was designed to store electrical charge.

The rain of glittering wool balls settled on the ground, erupting in a shower of sparks as the two moves met. Jeanne was on her hind legs, forelimbs spread wide in the same Y-pose she was so fond of.

"MAREEP!" she bleated a cheerful yell before trying to bow. Try. She instead ended up rolling before coming to a stop on her haunches. She looked back at me and raised her forelimbs again while sitting as if to tell me she'd done it on purpose.

"Excellent," I told her proudly. A bow would have been good, but this was adorable in its own way. I gestured to some of the wool balls. "Some of those didn't spark because they landed outside the terrain."

"Maa…"

"That's okay, Jeanne. You can't make your terrain any bigger, not until you evolve. Instead, we're going to focus on getting better control over your spores until you can make them land where you want them to. Sound good?"

"Mareep!"

"Great, now Cotton Spore, straight up."

It was slow going. It wasn't that Jeanne was unskilled, far from it, merely that she was enthusiastic. To a fault. She put a hundred percent of herself into everything she did, which unfortunately meant she wasn't a big proponent of control or moderation. It didn't help that Cotton Spore wasn't typically a move that was aimed, merely pointed in a general direction to encumber opponents.

Even so, repetition eventually got us to the point where she was mostly landing her spores in the terrain. I didn't know if it was because continuously practicing the same move dimmed her enthusiasm or because there was a limit to how much even a mareep could stress her hair follicles, but I was satisfied with the results.

The two of us sat around for a bit, her in my lap despite the Hoenn heat, and watched Artoria go through her forms. I would occasionally chuck a rock at her and watch as she pivoted cleanly to knock the stone out of the air. It was more impressive since she was looking from my eyes, not hers.

"You have some strange pokémon," I heard behind me. Turning, I was met with a green-haired boy about my age. On his shoulder was a budew, the pre-evolution of the roselia commonly found around these parts. He had a confident smirk on his face, though not necessarily a malicious one.

"I do," I said with an easy smile. I took the opportunity to snap a pebble towards my kirlia then immediately look away.

I was rewarded with a yelp of pain. "Kir!"

'Oww… That was unnecessary,' I heard her grumble.

'That'll be the next step. Prediction even if my attention wanders elsewhere.'

'You could have warned me.'

'But then it wouldn't be a surprise. The ralts line begins to develop precognitive capabilities following their first evolution. It's about time for you to start training that too. Even if it's just for a second or two, being able to see the future mid-combat is going to be critical to your fighting style going forward.' I sent her brief memory flashes of swordsmen from my past life whose skills seemed downright precognitive. 'I want you to see the future like Charlotte Katakuri and react like Sasaki Kojirou.'

'Yes, my liege. I understand. In that case, please pelt me with even more stones!' she said, pumped to the gills now. The best way to motivate a chuuni? Anime. 'My liege is thinking unkind things about me…'

'I'm not. There's nothing wrong with being a shameless training-nut.'

'Haauuu…'

"Hello? You there, weirdo?"

I turned my attention back to him to find him snapping his fingers in front of my face. "Yes. Just having a chat with my kirlia. Can I help you?"

"You're going to compete in Verdanturf, aren't you?"

"Most people introduce themselves before demanding answers from strangers."

"As if. I don't need to greet every mediocre wannabe I meet," he scoffed, nose turned up.

I did my best to channel my mother. An arched eyebrow and an unimpressed stare filled with the utter apathy of a psychic, sure to quell even the most arrogant blowhard. I wasn't quite there, but it was enough to get him to take a step back. "Then why are you here?"

'I do not like this person,' Artoria grumbled. She'd pulled the blindfold from her face and was glaring at him with undisguised contempt. 'He is rude and quick to give offense.'

'And what do his emotions say?'

'He is nervous. As he should be after insulting you.'

I looked at his aura. She could read his emotions far more clearly than I could, I was only human while she was a kirlia, but that didn't mean we were interpreting them the same way. 'There's that, but you should also see what isn't there. Confidence. Malice.'

'Then why is he so rude?'

'Social awkwardness. Insecurity. He's young and young people do dumb things to hide their perceived failings. If I had to guess, he came here because someone told him that a good rival would push him further on his journey. Maybe he is here to scout a potential opponent. Or maybe he was lonely and looking for a way to strike up conversation. Remember, for most new trainers, this is the first time they've been made to travel alone.'

'Would it not be better if humans were more straightforward with one another?' she asked, confused. 'A simple "I want to be friends," sounds much better than whatever mess this is. If humans were more honest, you would not need to guess at his intentions.'

'True, but not everyone can see emotions like we can. Be patient with them.'

It was something I'd known about Artoria, but rarely witnessed. Back in Mossdeep, everyone in the gym, barring dad, was a psychic. And even with dad, he was more than used to our unique quirks that he could seem almost precognitive in addressing our wants. Empathy was as natural as breathing so hiding our intentions and feelings was a fool's errand. She was getting better, but human interaction was for her an incomplete communication method. The masquerade inherent to human society was something that still felt alien to her.

"Hello? You there? You just space out like this normally?" the boy interrupted. Whatever he said in response to my original question, I completely missed his response.

"Yes, actually. You'll find powerful psychics often don't bother communicating verbally. Telepathy is much faster than speech and it comes naturally to us."

"Whatever."

"You still haven't told me your name."

"I did! It's Drew!"

That rang a bell, though I wasn't certain why. "Ah, sorry, must have missed it. Artoria and I were having a chat," I said apologetically.

'With the budew, and him aiming for the contest, I suspect he is the rival of this "May Maple" character you remember, my lord,' Artoria reminded me. That was another big benefit to sharing everything with her. I wasn't a particularly talented psychic, but with Artoria's help, I was working to organize a "mind palace" of sorts. Well, not quite a palace. Or a house. More of a filing cabinet than anything. She was effectively helping me sort my memories, build a library of relevant knowledge and whatnot from my past life.

I sent her a pulse of gratitude. "So, did you want something?"

"You! I just told you that your kirlia isn't going to win, especially not with her trainer spacing out like a slowpoke!"

"Well of course not. It'd be really weird if she managed to win a contest she's not competing in."

"What? Then why's she swinging a spoon around?"

"Because she's training."

"That doesn't explain anything."

I smirked at him and watched a drop of red spread through his emotional aura like food coloring in a glass of water. Just because I had a good idea of why he behaved the way he did didn't mean I had to enable him. An insecure, rude brat was still a rude brat. "No? I think it explains everything."

"Ugh, whatever, you spacey weirdo. I don't care if you're not competing," he grumbled, trudging off.

'But you are competing, my lord.'

'I am. I never said otherwise. I said you are not competing. If that's the conclusion he draws, then that's fine by me.'

'I see… Humans are strange.'

'We are.'

I patted her gently and packed up before hitting the road again.

X

I watched and waited wordlessly as my fluffy mareep did her best do dance out of the way of a lotad's Water Gun. She tried, but Jeanne just wasn't the most agile pokémon around. This battle against some semi-retired man who decided to go fly fishing was going about as I'd expected.

I told her before we started that I would not be giving her any commands this time; I wanted my pokémon to be able to handle battles on this level on their own. Jeanne had agreed with her usual cheer, only to get stymied by a surprisingly strong lotad.

The lilypad covered pokémon proved something I'd suspected but hadn't applied to pokémon battles: Water didn't conduct electricity. To be more specific, pure water wasn't an effective conductor. When a Water Gun and a Thunder Shock met in midair, one might expect the electricity to travel along the water and shock the lotad. One would be wrong, or near enough.

What really happened was that the Water Gun, having more mass, pressed through the Thunder Shock, forcing Jeanne to dodge. What little electricity that traveled along the water to strike the lotad did little if any damage thanks to its part grass type.

I wasn't sure how pure a Water Gun was, but I suspected it didn't contain too many salt ions.

Jeanne, for all her enthusiasm, wasn't a tactical thinker. After the fourth time trying the same game of beam-chicken and being forced to retreat, she shot me a pitiable look.

'I suppose it's a good time to intervene.'

'It seems so, my lord.'

"Electric Terrain," I barked. She took a Water Gun, soaking her wool, but obeyed with a wince. "Then Charge into Thunder Shock."

That did it. The extra boost from the charged terrain along with a brief internal powerup was enough to overcome lotad's grass typing. The Thunder Shock was so empowered that it was virtually indistinguishable from a decently powerful Thunderbolt. It also tuckered out my little lamb. She was the victor, but there was no question that she wouldn't be ready for a second bout.

I shook the fisherman's hand and received my LC bounty. 500 LC was nothing to scoff at.

"Heh, kids these days. No shame at all, robbing their elders for spending money," he groused goodnaturedly. Next to him, a beefy ludicolo with hints of gray in its poncho-like fur, probably that lotad's parent, laughed and consoled the young froglike pokémon.

"If you wanted to win, I'm sure you would have sent out that guy over there. Is he your partner?"

"She, but yeah. Fiesta is the big reason I settled down around here. Weather's perfect for her old bones, son."

"That's great. Thanks for the battle, mister."

"Sure, sure. I don't have anything better to do these days. Fiesta will win the money back for me on the next poor sap we meet."

I stumbled at that. "Heh, guess I'm lucky."

"Yup. Take care, kid."

There was a small but significant number of people like him along Route 117. They were trainers who had gone on their journeys and decided to settle down along the flower-laden path. Many of them still had powerful pokémon like Fiesta, though only a few had their full teams from their prime.

I found that interesting in itself. Some trainers met with tragedy, losing team members here and there. Others found that the retired life didn't suit some pokémon, particularly because some pokémon had vastly extended lifespans. I'd read a popular story of a ninetales in Kanto going on a pokémon journey eight separate times, each time with the next generation of her human's family. It was also fairly common for retiring trainers to give away their pokémon, either to the rangers for relocation into the wild or the gyms so they could train the next generation.

Seeing people like him made me wonder how many of my team I'd have by my side when I was old and gray.

'At least one,' Artoria promised, waves of reassurance accompanying her words. 'I have but one lord and master. I shall serve none other.'

I gave her the mental equivalent of a hug back. 'Love you too, Artoria.'

Author's Note

Yes, I skipped over the lengthy "Hi, I'm from another world and reincarnated/transmigrated to this one. I am and am not the same Aaron Fulan," chat.

Wanted two chapters to describe the route. More could happen I suppose, but Route 117 just isn't a very interesting route.