Categories > Anime/Manga > Pokemon > Xanthic Growlithe Contract
"So," said the girl, "is one-on-one good for you?"
No trainer in stories ever redefined the terms of the battle. "Sure."
The Cerulean Gym was basically just walls and a ceiling surrounding a pool, with only a small portion of the ground dry and used for human purposes. Most water types were at a disadvantage on land, some more than others, so it made sense for the gym to be set up to make use this disadvantage would never be an issue. Elliot was standing at one side of the pool, his opponent on the far end opposite him. There were several spongy platforms between them, floating on the surface of the water, to have an area for the challenger's pokemon to stand if needed.
Had Elliot thought about this earlier, he might have considered the fact that he had only two pokemon, neither of which was a good choice in this fight. But he hadn't.
The first such thought only then entered his mind. Howler was a fire type, so he shouldn't use it. His fingers wrapped around the meowth's pokeball. Normal types weren't weak against water, so he didn't think it'd have trouble.
Or, more accurately, he didn't think. "Go, Meowth!" He threw the pokeball hard. It opened in midair, and the meowth materialized on top of one of the foam platforms.
Claws dug in. It looked around nervously, taking in the damp air, the smell of chlorine, the unstable, terrifying undulating motion beneath it. It meowed pitiably.
The girl took no notice of the cat's distress. She seemed to think, then picked a pokeball. "Attack, Goldeen!"
A fish formed in the air, falling into the water with a plunk and then resurfacing to stare at its enemy.
The meowth meowed again. It was young, wild, and used to a life of what humans would call cowardice - run from the strong, prey on the weak. It had never seen the boy after he caught it. Had he let it out, it would probably have gained an inexplicable sense of devotion, enough to make it grit its teeth and jump into the water, to claw at the goldeen until one or the other was called back. But it did not have that devotion, at least, not yet. Right now, it was scarcely even aware of the boy. All it wanted to be on dry land, but to get there it would have to swim and it was terrified of the thick, sucking water.
It was not going to move. But it was not a pet, either, hadn't been raised from a kitten, taught to look to others for help. It did not think to cry to its trainer, did not even understand it had a trainer. It did not know that it was possible to be recalled safely from the fight.
And Elliot, not recognizing that it was unable to move, thought it was willing to fight. Or more accurately, he was already assuming that, and would continue to until given a definite sign to the contrary, including and perhaps limited to his pokemon fleeing the battle area.
Gears that should be turning in Elliot's head are instead spinning inside the meowth's. It was wild, and wild, there had been no one who would have helped it. It had to think of a way out of this itself.
It meowed a third time, plaintively. It had no idea what to do.
"Goldeen, horn attack!" ordered the girl.
The goldeen beat its tail, hitting the platform from beneath and breaking the soft plastic apart.
The meowth did not know how to swim. Water was a terrifying monster, clutching at it, trying to pull it under and smother it. It flailed wildly, attacking the liquid, and although this wasted most of its energy, its head did stay above the water. The goldeen, seeing its distraction, decided to attack.
The girl, oddly enough, did not seem to notice this weakness. She gave no order.
The goldeen attempted to spear the meowth, but because of the same chaotic frenzy which prompted the attack, it missed. The cat felt the slippery but definitely solid body of the goldeen, and its paws scrabbled on the fish's flesh, struggling to climb onto something solid.
If the goldeen considered the situation, it would sink back under the water. It had an immense advantage over landbound pokemon. Underwater it would be completely safe. The meowth would be left to flounder about in the water, until it either made it out or was recalled.
But the panic-stricken attack had infected it with the same irrational fear. It was poorly trained, inexperienced with pokemon battles. Its only thought was to get free. It rolled in the water, trying to shake the meowth off, but the meowth kept scrambling to stay on top of it. The goldeen had no way of grabbing it and pulling it off.
Meowth were pokemon who fought physically, fang and claw. Both were sharp, and as this one tried to use its claws for traction, it was tearing up the fish badly. The goldeen was far from defeated, but chunks had already been torn out. The water was frothing, partially obscuring the two pokemon from their trainer's eyes. But the girl was a gym leader, and she was experienced. She could see enough. "Return!" she yelled.
The flesh under the meowth's paws turned red and insubstantial, and, yowling, it began to thrash about in the water again. The fight had brought it near to the edge, and after a moment it realized this and pulled itself out.
Soaked and gasping, the cat lay prostrate on the cement. Elliot was not paying attention to it as the girl walked over to him and handed him the badge. He stared at it lying in the palm of his hand, stunned.
No trainer in stories ever redefined the terms of the battle. "Sure."
The Cerulean Gym was basically just walls and a ceiling surrounding a pool, with only a small portion of the ground dry and used for human purposes. Most water types were at a disadvantage on land, some more than others, so it made sense for the gym to be set up to make use this disadvantage would never be an issue. Elliot was standing at one side of the pool, his opponent on the far end opposite him. There were several spongy platforms between them, floating on the surface of the water, to have an area for the challenger's pokemon to stand if needed.
Had Elliot thought about this earlier, he might have considered the fact that he had only two pokemon, neither of which was a good choice in this fight. But he hadn't.
The first such thought only then entered his mind. Howler was a fire type, so he shouldn't use it. His fingers wrapped around the meowth's pokeball. Normal types weren't weak against water, so he didn't think it'd have trouble.
Or, more accurately, he didn't think. "Go, Meowth!" He threw the pokeball hard. It opened in midair, and the meowth materialized on top of one of the foam platforms.
Claws dug in. It looked around nervously, taking in the damp air, the smell of chlorine, the unstable, terrifying undulating motion beneath it. It meowed pitiably.
The girl took no notice of the cat's distress. She seemed to think, then picked a pokeball. "Attack, Goldeen!"
A fish formed in the air, falling into the water with a plunk and then resurfacing to stare at its enemy.
The meowth meowed again. It was young, wild, and used to a life of what humans would call cowardice - run from the strong, prey on the weak. It had never seen the boy after he caught it. Had he let it out, it would probably have gained an inexplicable sense of devotion, enough to make it grit its teeth and jump into the water, to claw at the goldeen until one or the other was called back. But it did not have that devotion, at least, not yet. Right now, it was scarcely even aware of the boy. All it wanted to be on dry land, but to get there it would have to swim and it was terrified of the thick, sucking water.
It was not going to move. But it was not a pet, either, hadn't been raised from a kitten, taught to look to others for help. It did not think to cry to its trainer, did not even understand it had a trainer. It did not know that it was possible to be recalled safely from the fight.
And Elliot, not recognizing that it was unable to move, thought it was willing to fight. Or more accurately, he was already assuming that, and would continue to until given a definite sign to the contrary, including and perhaps limited to his pokemon fleeing the battle area.
Gears that should be turning in Elliot's head are instead spinning inside the meowth's. It was wild, and wild, there had been no one who would have helped it. It had to think of a way out of this itself.
It meowed a third time, plaintively. It had no idea what to do.
"Goldeen, horn attack!" ordered the girl.
The goldeen beat its tail, hitting the platform from beneath and breaking the soft plastic apart.
The meowth did not know how to swim. Water was a terrifying monster, clutching at it, trying to pull it under and smother it. It flailed wildly, attacking the liquid, and although this wasted most of its energy, its head did stay above the water. The goldeen, seeing its distraction, decided to attack.
The girl, oddly enough, did not seem to notice this weakness. She gave no order.
The goldeen attempted to spear the meowth, but because of the same chaotic frenzy which prompted the attack, it missed. The cat felt the slippery but definitely solid body of the goldeen, and its paws scrabbled on the fish's flesh, struggling to climb onto something solid.
If the goldeen considered the situation, it would sink back under the water. It had an immense advantage over landbound pokemon. Underwater it would be completely safe. The meowth would be left to flounder about in the water, until it either made it out or was recalled.
But the panic-stricken attack had infected it with the same irrational fear. It was poorly trained, inexperienced with pokemon battles. Its only thought was to get free. It rolled in the water, trying to shake the meowth off, but the meowth kept scrambling to stay on top of it. The goldeen had no way of grabbing it and pulling it off.
Meowth were pokemon who fought physically, fang and claw. Both were sharp, and as this one tried to use its claws for traction, it was tearing up the fish badly. The goldeen was far from defeated, but chunks had already been torn out. The water was frothing, partially obscuring the two pokemon from their trainer's eyes. But the girl was a gym leader, and she was experienced. She could see enough. "Return!" she yelled.
The flesh under the meowth's paws turned red and insubstantial, and, yowling, it began to thrash about in the water again. The fight had brought it near to the edge, and after a moment it realized this and pulled itself out.
Soaked and gasping, the cat lay prostrate on the cement. Elliot was not paying attention to it as the girl walked over to him and handed him the badge. He stared at it lying in the palm of his hand, stunned.
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