Broken Souls

Overgrow

Two weeks in, we leave the Viridian area, armed with steely resolve and ten bags full of food. My vegetarian Pokemon insist they'll be able to cover the difference on their own, while Reginae is fasting with only his Synthesis to provide energy. I've gotten far more mixed reactions from the carnivores. Ethan in particular is uneasy whenever he has to go fishing. Doing it on accident in a rush of adrenaline was bad enough, but making the decision in his right mind seems to be too much for him.

While the rift is still there, the connections have meshed between the two groups well, regardless of what their feelings about each other may be. The real stress is on me, as a trainer, since I have to uphold all of those bonds at once. Even passive connections take a small amount of energy, but when I need to hold onto all of them at all times, without the conduit of official ownership via the Poke Ball, it's like being an Octillery with thirty arms instead of eight.

Then again, an Octillery has control over its tentacles.

This morning, we trek through the dense forest on the southern side of the route leading up to Victory Road. The forest is dense, which offers protection for the small Pokemon who haven't scampered away into the route grass, and the foliage is gnarly and unpleasant as you can imagine. I long to traverse the better maintained road, but any encounter with other people is a risk. I can't show up with twenty Pokemon and if anyone is left alone, Red's going to pounce or some trainer might see a rare wild Pokemon... let's just say anything and everything that can go wrong will go wrong, so it's best to minimize the chances.

This is stressing me out, so I decide to distract myself by listening to the team banter.

"What's over there?" asks Fang. He sniffs the air, "Smells like Ursaring."

"Smells like practice." Toxis says, cracking his hands. They're not human, and there's nothing that could be even loosely described as a 'knuckle', but his joints still make an obnoxious, loud popping sound when he flexes them the wrong way.

"Practice? Against feral Ursaring? Smells like a death wish." Shika scoffs. Ten mumbles something hasty in agreement, though he's struggling to keep up with the team. His wings are laden down with bags of canned goods.

"You can't smell death wishes." Fang says, "I know because Ashley so had one when I met her, but the only things she smells like are sweat, Pokemon hair, and depression."

"Thanks, Fang." I yell over to the Umbreon. "The hair's all yours, by the way."

"No problem," he yells back. "You can have it, free of charge!"

I love him, but sometimes I want to drop Fang back in his cardboard box.

Toxis, ignoring our exchange, continues, "Whatever you think of Ursaring, the Pokemon on Mount Silver are going to be harder. If you have a problem with Ursaring, you can take up a permanent job as bag carrier."

Shika stamps a hoof against the ground. Her nostrils are flared up with indignance as she butts her horns against Toxis's chest. "I'm already the permanent bag carrier! No one else has taken a turn besides Ra- I mean Crimson, and for Arceus's sake, he's half a story tall! He could carry everything on three of his scales."

"We're not risking that again. One of the bags has already been thrown to the ground and it had most of my pie ingredients." Shika says, dread rising in her voice.

"I was lookin' forwards to the pies. Has to be better than eatin' grass." Millie huffs, batting aside some vines. Her thick skin is poked full of thorn puncture marks but she's pushing through.

"Wasn't the only thing we lost," Dill says, stepping in behind her. " Rest in peace, chili sauce. You will be missed."

"You ate all of it off the ground-" Millie says.