DPA: Rivals

Chapter 19: What Every King Needs

"Long ago, in the days of old," Arin began, his shadow dancing in the light of the campfire. "There was a pub, just outside of Lavender Town, called The Cheshire."

"Not this again," Ross groaned before taking a bite of roasted leek. "We've heard you tell this story at least a thousand times."

"Shush!" Arin snapped at Ross, before staring into the flames and continuing his story. "One night, a weary traveler came to rest and have a drink at this pub, just him and his partner Pokémon, a Ponyta. Now, back in those days, buildings weren't made to be Fire type-friendly, so Pokémon like Ponyta would've had to wait outside. The owner of the pub tried to get the traveler to keep his Ponyta outside, but the traveler would have none of it. It was cold and wet outside, and a Ponyta would've been really uncomfortable out there. So the pub owner made an exception, this one time."

"And let me guess, the whole place burned down?" Riley muttered.

"Don't spoil it!" Arin yelled, picking up a pebble and throwing it at Riley. "Can I finish? Please?"

"Fine," Riley said, looking down at his Gastly, who had fallen asleep, probably out of boredom.

"Thank you," Arin sighed, shaking his head. "Anyways, at one point, the Ponyta tried to nuzzle its owner, one of its flames touched a curtain, setting it alight. From there, the pub was destined to an inevitable destruction by fire. Patrons tried to rush out all at once, jamming the front door, the only way out. The burning building, combined with the storm outside, caused the ceiling that collapsed, crushing ten people and four Pokémon, including the traveler and the Ponyta, to death. And now, those spirits roam Lavender Town as one collective consciousness, named after the very venue where their demise took place: the Cheshire."

"Ghosts aren't like that," Riley said, wrapping himself up in a blanket. "They aren't the spirits of dead people or Pokémon. Ghost is just a type."

"Yeah, it's kind of dumb," Arin admitted, pouring a bucket of water on the fire. "Goodnight, killjoys."

Daryon looked down at his hands as he sat on his hotel mattress, lost in a sea of his own thoughts. Pikachu, who had been loyally perched on his shoulder even during his miniature meltdown at the Gym, sat beside him, ears flopped down, worried about Daryon's well-being.

After a solid ten minutes of complete silence, Daryon opened up two Pokéballs, releasing Bulbasaur and King. Though still clearly worn out from the brutal loss against Brock, they had already begun to recover a bit, and didn't seem to be too badly hurt. Daryon remembered Dr. Joy saying something about that.

"So how exactly does this machine work?" Cameron asked, staring at the large mechanical marvel, loaded with Pokéballs containing the group's various Pokémon.

"Well, unlike humans, Pokémon heal at an almost unfathomably fast rate, capable of recovering from most injuries within days on their own. A machine like this, called a PHM, or Pokémon Healing Machine, simply accelerates this healing process to the maximum. We typically only use them for Pokémon with significant trauma. Nine times out of ten, a Pokémon will recover from a trainer battle on its own in a couple of hours."

"What was that back there?" Daryon asked, looking down at King. "You completely shut down." King crawled up onto the bed, sitting down next to Daryon, staring intensely at his belt. Daryon followed King's gaze, before something clicked in his head. He unclipped a Pokéball from his belt, releasing Queen.

"Do!" King squealed, nuzzling its partner. Queen purred as King rested against it.

Daryon chuckled. "Of course. Every King needs his Queen."

He looked down at Bulbasaur. "As for you, you did nothing wrong. You were just doing what I told you to, and what I told you to do got you knocked out. I'm sorry."

"Bulba," Bulbasaur replied, having already put the past behind it.

"Now, we need to be really careful when we go back. The League only allows one rematch for each Gym, so if we don't win this time, we're done. We gotta be like Cameron. We gotta strategize, think, plan."

"BZZZT, I can assist with that," Vince said, floating through an open window. Perched atop Vince's "head" was Daryon's cap, which he had left behind at the Gym during his outburst. Daryon plucked the hat off of his Rotom-possessed friend, returning it to its rightful place on his head.

"Hey Vince," Daryon said, adjusting the cap until it felt right.

"Hello, Daryon," Vince replied. "The others requested that I check on your emotional status. Are you well?"

"I'm fine, Vince," Daryon said. "I could really use your help figuring out how I'm going to beat Brock."

"I observed Brock's Pokémon battles with both Cameron and yourself, and I've been able to do some analysis on his particular battle style. If you would like, I could share with you Brock's weak points, as well as his strengths and how to counter them."

"I'd like that very much," Daryon smiled.