A.N: A long chapter. Also, as a heads up, details regarding Wayward Cave and everything that has transpired since will slowly be given throughout future chapters. Enjoy!------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“And Protect!” Ethan ordered the assortment of pokemon standing before him in the training field. Brilliantly bright blue hexagons flashed into existence, lingering only for a few seconds before one by one, they flickered out of existence.
It’d been a month since his return home, and he had stayed true to his convictions in training his pokemon to be safe and ready for battle. All of his pokemon now knew how to use Protect, and many others had their own individual training to acquire other moves. The hardest to prepare was Smeargle by far, as he’d have to teach one of his other compatible pokemon the move he wanted Smeargle to learn first before his painter could Sketch it himself.
The thick snow that formerly blanketed the earth had been whisked away by winds and time, leaving the trees surrounding Berry Falls barren and brown, just like the ground beneath them. It might snow again soon, but for now the ranch was dry and cold—perfect for training during the winter season.
Chatot, Smeargle, Pachirisu, Snorlax, both Teddiursa, Litten, Ralts, Skiddo, Tinkatink, Gloom, two dozen Oddish, Shuckle, Lotad, both Maril who called his ranch home, and their three small baby Azumarils all had finally perfected Protect. Lotad took the longest, often getting distracted and wanting to play instead of work, but they all got there in the end.
“An hour lunch break, then some of you will come back here and finish off some of your other moves. Now go on and get going! I’m proud of you all!” Ethan smiled and did indeed feel proud of all the pokemon and their hard work. He was even proud of himself, which was a rarity in the past. Obviously, the pokemon felt his pride and reacted accordingly. Some were embarrassed, others happy and proud of themselves as well.
All of the pokemon scampered off in groups, chatting with one another as they went off into the berry fields to pick out their favorite treats. Ethan sat down on his newly placed log seat on the edge of the training field and took out his own prepared lunchbox. A simple sandwich made with homemade bread, vegetables, mayo, and slices of what he would have called ham back on Earth.
It wasn’t truly real meat, but a lab-grown substitute that cost a pretty penny. It seems that no-matter which world you lived in, the cost of not killing showed its face. Although, unlike Earth, this meat did indeed taste meaty and not like a wet-sock. That made it worth the cost.
“Ethan! You finally finished?”
“For now!” He yelled out at the slowly approaching voice. “You sure you didn’t want your pokemon to learn as well?”
James plonked himself down beside him on the log and laid back on his hands. The Rockets had… changed a bit. Slowly, over time, they’d finally grown accustomed to their weekend sales and had started to decorate their home into something that truly began to fit the name. They’d also grown closer to him over time, having accepted that they indeed were not prisoners under watch, but helpers, given a place to truly live out their lives in peace.
Jessie was still a bitch sometimes, but that was just the way she was around anyone she didn’t need something from… most of the time, at least. She wasn’t actually that mean or bad to be around, but she had a fire in her that could overwhelm the meek. He had once again apologized to her for his earlier mistakes and told them what he knew about their lives in more detail other than a blanket statement that he’d known them from a children's game/show. That had gone a long way. He’d straight up said he was wrong to assume what he knew was fact, and that he would never be able to truly understand them as people from a third party perspective.
Meowth still didn’t like him, always calling him a weirdo, but he did try to get tutored! One time… but it still counted! Ethan had suggested Payday as a move he should learn, and having seen his success in tutoring his own pokemon, he finally ignored his pride and tried. Sadly, Meowth… learned the hard way that Payday didn’t generate money—like Ethan had assumed—It used it…
That alone soured their relationship.
“I think I still would like to train my own pokemon, but thank you.” James then fished around in his jacket. “Here’s your cut from this weekend. It was a good one!”
Ethan opened up the envelope and took out the fifty-thousand pokedollars. It appeared business was booming in winter. “Hope you didn’t spend your money all in one place like that last time. Sooner or later, you’re going to need an expansion of your cottage if you're going to keep buying things.”
James waved his advice away, but Ethan decided to tease the man. “Also, you might want to hide your drying lines a bit better. I saw some clothes drying as I walked to the field, and they weren’t Jessies.”
He’d known about James and his tendency to dress in female clothes from the show, but until last week, he’d assumed it was only for disguises. As it happens, it wasn’t only for disguises. Not being one to judge, Ethan didn’t care at all. It wasn’t his thing, and he didn’t truly understand why James did it, but if it didn’t hurt anyone then it wasn’t any of his business.
James was stunlocked, so Ethan carried on after taking a massive bite of his sandwich. “I don’t care what the others say about you. You’re alright with me.”
That got a nervous laugh out of the man. “You won’t get me twice with that!”
“What’s Jessie doing anyways?” Ethan asked, changing the topic for James’ comfort.
Taking the out for what it was, James spoke of Jessie. “She’s been working with Joyce during the week. She’s happy to continue her training. I think she mentioned helping out the next person who comes by with Joyce on overwatch. Soon, she might be good enough to finish her schooling.”
“Good for her!” Ethan smiled. “And how are your pokemon doing? I don’t see them around much.”
“Carnivine is often in the forest waiting for prey. He’s very patient. Sometimes he will come back to play with Oddish or Cacnea. Oddish helps out with our garden and joins his brothers and sisters at nighttime. Growlie is Growlie, you’ve probably seen him running about.” At that, Ethan nodded. The little Growlithe was full of energy and always running about to play with the pokemon around the ranch. Ralts could often be seen riding him as a mount during their games of make-believe.
“Hey… Do you think Jessie could go to the city for a contest?” James asked nonchalantly, but it was forced. James wasn’t the best at lying or being deceitful—that was Jessie’s specialty.
“I don’t see why not. Smeargle can Teleport you guys if you need to go.” Ethan easily agreed. “You know… I was also thinking about contests. I have a feeling that what I remember about them and what actually happens during them are quite different. You and Jessie have done a few of them, right? Wanna fill me in about how they work?”
For the next thirty minutes, James and Ethan chatted about pokemon contests. James had even entered one or two in the past, but they weren’t really interesting to him. Jessie on the other hand, wanted to participate quite badly. James had let it slip that when she’d entered in the past, she did it for their ‘job’, but once she won once… When the crowd cheered her on and applauded, she was hooked.
Pokemon contests had several different forms. Most, but not all, had a theme pre-organized and detailed that Coordinators—Trainers who entered contests—had to plan and specialize their routines for. The first part of any contest was initial judging of the primary pokemon in the contest. For larger contests, Coordinators were expected to bring four pokemon for judging and participation. The smaller more indie contests could be a single pokemon or perhaps two.
During the initial judging, pokemon were rated by a score of judges on how well they suited the theme of the contest itself. James explained that themes could be nearly anything; from cuteness, to strength, to brains and wit, style—even more abstract themes like water or flow, to hope and valor. Their conditions were also taken into account, such as how healthy the pokemon was, their size, and other physical attributes. It was basically a beauty pageant, in Ethan’s mind.
The secondary judging would be the routine or performance. You were expected to use moves in a spectacular display of beauty and enthrall the audience. Of course, you still had to fit the theme of the contest, but things were more generally lax during this part of the contest. For example, if the theme was love, one person could do a play depicting love, or one would showcase the love between the given pokemon and their trainer—their bond. He also explained that many Coordinators had their own unique themes and styles. Some always did plays, which people would show up to see, while others would always dazzle the audience with new altered moves in a dance routine—they also had fans! Coordinators were also expected to take part in the routine, it was not only the pokemon being judged.
It was like… a professional talent show with themes and expectations. Many popular Coordinators became pseudo-celebrities due to their performances. They weren’t as famous as the top tier battlers, but they were definitely well known across the region.
They sounded pretty fun if you weren’t aiming to take them too seriously. He was sure that some of his pokemon would love to try them as well; specifically, Chatot. Smeargle would maybe like them as well.
It also gave Ethan an excuse to make their little pokemon band better.
Santa had laid down the law during Christmas, gifting himself and many of his pokemon instruments. Ethan got an electric guitar which he had no clue how to play properly, Chatot got tambourines and maracas, Smeargle a bass guitar, and Tinkatink a small drum set. They all sucked, but they could practice and make a band!
Surely, if he could teach pokemon how to use moves they had no business in learning, then he could teach them how to play instruments…
Surely…
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After training some more individualized moves with Tinkatink, Snorlax, Chatot, and Pachirisu in the afternoon, Ethan was making his way back home to prepare dinner, when Skiddo wandered onto the cobblestone path… and flopped on her side like a housecat.
“Ski.”
“Again?” Ethan asked, shoulders slumping.
“Ski.” Skiddo repeated, then kicked her legs dutifully.
About a week ago, Skiddo had begun to act out for attention. Something that definitely wasn’t in her normal behavior. The first time, Ethan had attempted to play with her or have her join him with his work, thinking maybe she was just growing interested in what he did. When she continued to bleat and call out, he’d grown worried and took her to Joyce.
It turned out that Skiddo was now old enough to start making milk, and she was growing uncomfortable. A completely natural thing for a Skiddo, but Skiddo didn’t have a herd of her species to teach her how to deal with it. Ethan had known ahead of time that he would have to help her out and even looked forward to having a source of milk on his ranch… but man was it an awkward experience—For him, at least. Skiddo didn’t care at all, she often looked forward to it. Maybe it felt like a massage to her?
The first time he’d milked Skiddo… Well, there were no witnesses to see how terrible that had gone. Skiddo was confused and frustrated at him, he didn’t know what he was doing… It was a disaster. Now, after some practice, he’d gotten better at it.
“Alright…” Ethan knelt down and scooped up Skiddo into his arms and made for the barn, passing his home entirely. Skiddo pretended to not have bones, flopping about in his arms without a care in the world. Once in his barn, he grabbed one of the trusty buckets Tinkatink had fashioned for him. It was… small. Tinkatink did not appreciate him asking to use his metal, but seeing as it was for Skiddo, who she liked very much, she eventually made him a small bucket. If it was made out of plastic, Ethan would have taken it for a children’s sand-castle bucket for the beach.
Fifteen minutes later, Skiddo suddenly kicked and wiggled as she slowly began to walk off, nearly knocking over the bucket as she ended the session. Ethan let go and held his hands up while throwing her a warning look. “Just ski at me next time and I’ll stop, ya silly goat.”
Skiddo ignored him, already at the barn door and using her small horns to pry it open to leave and go about her evening. Ethan blew a raspberry at her as she left, then took the fresh milk and added it to a metal drum purchased for its storage.
He had to buy that with his hard earned money, as Tinkatink would have battered him bloody if he asked for that much metal.
As he looked inside the small metal drum, he realized that it might be enough to process. Once he realized he’d be milking Skiddo on a regular basis, he’d done his research into milk and how to deal with it in its raw form. He knew that on Earth, you didn’t simply drink milk straight from a cow or goat—That was not your typical GOATed 2% from the grocery store.
Deciding to deal with it now rather than later, Ethan picked up the smallish gray drum, feeling the milk inside slosh about as he cradled it in his arms. He carried it back home and turned on the stove, then poured all of the collected milk into a large pot. Slowly, the pot heated up, and once tiny bubbles began running up the sides of the milk within, he evened out the temperature. For thirty minutes, he’d have to stir and keep an eye on it.
Afterwards, once pasteurized, he could use the milk for whatever he wanted to make: Cheese, yogurt, butter, cream… maybe even some berry infused milk or cheese! Shuckle had been studiously perfecting his little berry blends within his shell, giving Ethan small vials worth to store and use at his leisure. Perhaps it was time to make some artisan goods to sell?
Once satisfied with the time on the stove, Ethan took the pot of hot milk off the stovetop and carried it into his chilly cellar to cool. He covered it with a cloth and clamped it down by the pot's lid for now. Soon, possibly tomorrow, he’d try some. He couldn’t recall ever trying goat milk, but it couldn’t be that different…?
Done with the day’s work, Ethan climbed out of the cellar and plopped himself down onto his couch to watch something on the T.V. Ralts, who was a couch potato, slowly turned her head toward him as he changed the channel. “What or who, pray tell, compelled you to change the channel? I was watching the most delightful play, showcasing the trials and tribulations of a young Nidaran as he sought strength beside his human companion!”
Ethan didn’t even bother giving her any attention, knowing that she was just trying to get a rise out of him. It was his T.V anyways. “That was an advertisement about getting your children to go on a journey. It wasn’t even a show.”
Ralts simply had his words go in her ears and out the other as she clambered over to sit on his lap. “It was still nice to see.”
“Hmmm.” Ethan murmured his agreement. “Do you want to go on a journey?”
Ralts scoffed in his mind. “Perish the thought! All the trekking and traveling would grow boring. The new places would be nice and all, but too much traveling, by far.” She kicked her feet, bonking his calves, as he had one leg resting on the other. “Maybe once I evolve. I would be able to teleport much further then.”
“That might be sooner than you think. I’m by no means an expert, but you’ve gotten much better in this past month. You’re probably the only Ralts in existence who knows Protect too.”
With her ego sufficiently stoked, Ralts quickly nodded her head. “Indeed! I am sure Arceus will bestow upon me my greater form soon enough!”
That wasn’t how evolution worked, and he was one-hundred percent sure of that.
Didn’t mean he was going to tell her that, though. “Have you decided on which move to learn? The others are getting tutored already.”
“Not yet… A decision such as this… It takes time and careful preparation.” Ralts sagely informed.
“Could have just learned both if I knew you’d take this long to pick.”
Ethan’s offhanded comment earned him a look of complete and utter bafflement. “WHAT?!”
He cringed from the loud scream in his mind, then poked Ralts on the head. “Not so loud! And what? Did you think this was a once time offer? I just wanted to know what you wanted to learn first, dummy.”
“Oh—Of course not! I knew all along that you would spend every waking moment pampering me and making me the best! It is why I choose you as my trainer! Of course!”
Ethan sniffed exaggeratedly and looked around, causing Ralts to grow confused. “Do you smell that?”
“N—No…?”
After a large final sniff, he squinted his eyes. “I smell lies and deceit.”
The flurry of blows from Ralts upon his midsection was seen through ahead of time. They’ve done this whole back and forth many times already, and he didn’t think that would change any time soon. “I never lie! Never!”
“Sure.” Ethan ignored her pummeling and changed the channel again. “I’ll check in with your mom and get the facts later. You know, trust but verify.”
Ralts’ blows stopped as if she’d been smacked in return. “Well now… Let’s not be hasty.”
An hour later, Ralts was drooling on his lap as she slept like a log, tuckered out from their non-stop telepathic conversations. She never said it tired her out, but after talking to her every day, and with her being his pokemon, he’d noticed. She loved talking with him and trading barbs, even if she knew that it would tire her. He gently picked her up and sat her against the nearby pillow, then gave her a little kiss on the forehead. “Goodnight, dummy.”
Soon, he and his pokemon would be ready to battle—for real this time.
Who knows, maybe he’d even stop by Eterna City for a try at a badge. Only time would tell.