Spoon: 6.2 Palate Cleanser (Patreon)

Aaron’s Pokemon

- Artoria (Kirlia)- Jeanne (Flaaffy)- Durvasa (Primeape)- Magellan (Chikorita)- Spicy, Frosted Croissant (Larvesta)

Palate Cleanser 6.2

Aaron FulanAmbertown

Ambertown’s pokemon center was the smallest I’d seen to-date. The town itself probably had a population of less than two thousand people. It had a single Main Street upon which were a handful of shops, two diners, a town hall that also contained the branch office of a bank, and the pokemon center.

Truthfully, much of the northwestern section of Hoenn was forgettable. There were only three kinds of people who visited: coordinators who needed a ribbon, researchers conducting geological studies or collecting meteorites, and experienced trainers who had business in Meteor Falls. The latter were typically hoping to add a bagon to their teams, and often left disappointed.

Fallarbor Town was the largest of a smattering of towns in the area, but badge collectors had no real reason to visit. And, of those trainers who wandered up north like this, most chose to go around Mount Chimney rather than down its face like I was doing, so they didn’t even step foot in Ambertown.

We checked into the pokemon center. It had a small lobby, six rooms for patients, and an attached inn with only four rooms. Each room had a pair of bunk beds so sixteen trainers could stay here for a time. Even with the limited capacity, we had a room to ourselves; the town was just that out of the way.

That said, the pokemon center did have a stable and barn. It made sense; the nurses here were accustomed to treating agricultural pokemon like ponyta, mareep, and bouffalant. Unlike nurses in larger cities with more trainer traffic, these people were specialists in herd pokemon. Sometimes, they probably also treated actual livestock as needs arose.

Whatever could be said for its size though, the place had a rustic charm I appreciated. Especially the food, the food was phenomenal. Maybe it was because there were so few guests and they had the bandwidth, but the food was delicious and plentiful. It was like stepping back into an American, midwestern buffet.

We checked in at around two in the afternoon and they still had food available for us. Lunch was a hearty steak and cheese frittata that had been cooked with a layer of hash browns as the base. They even had freshly baked muffins and brownies.

Dinner was apparently a lamb chop. Just the thought of it made my mouth water, but I refrained. There was a certain electric sheep giving me the stink-eye.

“I don’t see what the problem is,” I said defensively. “They have dumb sheep, too.”

“Flaaf,” she bleated judgingly.

“Hey, now. I wouldn’t eat a mareep.”

“Flaaffy…”

“Don’t look at me like that. I’m sure you taste terrible.”

“Flaaf!”

“So you want me to say you look tasty?”

“Flaaffy!” she stamped her little feet in annoyance.

“You don’t want to be tasty. You don’t want to taste terrible. Make up your mind, Jeanne,” I said, chuckling in fond amusement. 

Jeanne huffed before snatching my muffin. She stuffed the whole thing in her mouth while maintaining eye contact, all but declaring that my muffin privileges had been revoked. I really shouldn’t derive so much amusement out of teasing my pokemon, but they had such adorable reactions.

We ate and were relaxing in the lobby when I saw the occupant of one of the other rooms come out and paused, fork lifted halfway to my mouth. I’d never seen a man look more like Krilin before. He was bald, with six, cigarette-sized burn marks on his forehead. He wore a set of orange and yellow-gold robes that revealed a good portion of his upper chest.

He was older than me. At a guess, he was probably in his mid-twenties. Despite this, he was almost half a head shorter, furthering the comparison in my mind. Only, unlike the iconic cartoon character, the man was quite fat, to the point that from a certain angle, he almost looked as wide as he was tall.

He must have seen me looking because he let out a gruff grunt and stomped his way towards me. “Eh? Another traveler, huh? Where’re you coming from?”

“Hello, I’m Aaron. I just got in from Mount Chimney two hours ago,” I greeted him. “Are you a monk?”

“You could say that.” He pulled out a chair for himself and sat down with a sigh of satisfaction. “I ain’t a very good one, but I suppose I’m still a monk.”

I grinned widely. I’d known this man for less than five seconds but already found him fascinating. “Huh. I don’t think I’ve ever met one before. Where are you from?”

“Violet City in Johto. We’re a rare breed, kid. People who dedicate themselves to inner peace are hard to come by in Hoenn. The closest thing you have are the Vigilant Watchers.”

“Violet City… As in Sprout Tower?”

“You’ve heard of us? Then again, you do have that big ol’ chikorita.”

“Magellan was born in Hoenn, believe it or not,” I said as he dug around in his sleeve. Out came a smoking pipe. “Are monks supposed to smoke?”

“There isn’t a rule against it, but the abbot didn’t like us doing it much. I did say I’m not a very good one, didn’t I?” he chuckled as he puffed away.

“Eh, fair enough. What brings you out here, though? You are far from home.”

“And samurai have long since gone out of fashion. You are also far from home, if in a different way,” he said, eyeing my katana with a knowing smile.

“I’m a ronin if anything, but I suppose that’s true enough. Swap stories?”

“Very well. Have you ever heard of a creature called a spiritomb?”

It looked like his story was a serious one. “Of course. Champion Cynthia has one. They are a ghost and dark dual type, an amalgam of one hundred eight spirits.”

“Aye, that’s true, but you know of them as a trainer knows a pokemon. What if I told you that a spiritomb is not a naturally occurring species?”

“Over one hundred spirits merged into one? I’d believe you. Whatever can make a spiritomb is definitely not natural.”

“Nor good, nor kind. A great tragedy can form a spiritomb. A deep, profound sense of unfulfilled longing and resentment shared amongst many spirits can take on a life of its own, acting as tethers that bind them to one another.”

“You have one. You speak as if you have a lot of personal experience managing a spiritomb.”

He nodded gravely, tapping at the sash around his waist. He had five pokeballs wrapped in hemp knots to keep them in place. Next to them was an innocuous stone with a distinctive pattern.

“Aye, I have one. I stumbled upon them during my first pilgrimage around Johto. I sealed them into a keystone before returning to Sprout Tower. There, the abbot told me that my encounter was a test and that my pilgrimage was not over yet. He bid me to wander the world until I cleansed all one hundred eight souls and led them back onto the righteous path.”

Now that he mentioned it, I could feel a subtle, foreboding aura from the stone. It certainly had Artoria on edge. I could recognize the pattern of an odd keystone well enough. And judging by the monk’s own aura, he was telling the truth.

That made me nervous. The spiritomb was a creature of malice a hundred eight times over. And yet, I felt almost nothing. It was only now that the keystone was mere feet from me that I sensed the barest wisp of ghostly aura. That secondary dark type was a scary thing to us psychics.

“I believe you, but how does that work? You cannot separate a spiritomb back into their constituent spirits, right?” I asked, morbidly curious.

“No, of course not. No amount of prayers can do that,” He agreed with a rueful chuckle. “However, I can cleanse their spirits, one by one. I can get them to release their resentment, as if prying away an unsafe toy from the hands of a child. It is my hope that once I am finished, these one hundred eight spirits can find new purpose, or perhaps enter the Distortion without regrets.”

“Is there a purifying ritual for that? I didn’t know Sprout Tower taught that kind of thing.”

“Oh? You seem very accepting of my story. Not many people are.”

I held up a finger with a knowing look. Blue light gathered at the tip. “I come from a family of psychics. Aura, the power of bonds. I can use it, too.”

“Hah, so you can, Aaron. I am Junjie Go, wandering ascetic of Sprout Tower,” he said with a bark of laughter. “Perhaps our meeting was preordained.”

“Maybe. You still haven’t told me how you can cleanse a soul.”

“That is because there is no easy way to do so. Great tragedy bound these spirits. Now, only equally great good can free them. I wander the world looking to save one hundred eight lives in the hopes that my deeds will become an example for the restless ones.”

“I see. Then you have my respect, master monk,” I said, dipping my head into a bow. Next to me, Artoria and Durvasa did likewise.

“Bah, none of that. I was already a wandering ascetic anyway. Nothing has changed except that I now have a permanent audience,” he said.

“Have you tried going to Mount Pyre? The Vigilant Watchers are ghost type experts. They probably know a thing or two about spiritomb.”

“Aye, and Ecruteak City’s Towers. They know a great deal about containing or banishing a malicious ghost, but there is no easy way to cleanse one, never mind one hundred eight. Believe me, there are no shortcuts on the righteous path.”

He took a long draw from his pipe and turned away from me to blow the smoke. It wasn’t very monk-like of him, but I could understand. Being surrounded by so many restless spirits would make anyone want to take the edge off.

This was the first time I’d met someone like him. Organized religion was somewhat uncommon in this world, not least of which because Arceus demanded no worship. That said, people did worship local Legends on occasion, such as the Towers built in honor of Lugia and Ho-Oh.

Johto was known for being an especially spiritual region, with cultures deeply rooted in tradition. Even in the modern day, religion wasn’t just a way of life, but a means by which history was preserved.

We swapped stories as we spoke. He found my teammates to be a delight, but especially took a liking to Durvasa. As a Johtoan native, he was familiar with the species. The notion of an enlightened primeape was one he’d never considered before.

“Say, how about a battle, Aaron?” Junjie said, eyes gleaming with a hunger completely unbefitting a monk. “You said you have four badges?”

“Yes, I do.” I saw my dear friends perk up at “battle.” It was in their nature, even Jeanne. “We’re pretty strong, you know.”

“I can see that. You’re not the only one who can sense aura. How about this? We’re already at a pokemon center so getting roughed up a bit isn’t an issue. Your two against one of mine.”

I eyed him carefully. My pokemons’ interest colored with palpable indignation. And yet, Junjie’s aura was as still as a tranquil lake. I could sense nothing but unconditional confidence in this man.

I knew then. I’d probably lose. This was a more experienced trainer, someone who had over a decade on me. He said he never bothered with the conventional gym circuit, Johto or otherwise, but that meant little. I myself hit a fair bit harder than my four badges indicated.

More than that, he was like me. Or to put it more honestly, I was like him. I replicated and enhanced martial arts techniques using my psychic talent because my telekinesis was limited to tactile range. Here was a man who was not only aura-sensitive, but had learned to use it the conventional way, from one of the oldest monastic orders in Johto.

“Sure, this should be a good experience for us,” I said eagerly. The prospect of battling someone like him didn’t come often. I’d be a fool to decline the learning opportunity.

He tapped his pipe into a nearby ashtray and stood. “Alright, kid. Let’s do this.”

X

We stood across from each other. The round-ish man leisurely loosened the hemp loop on his sash, retrieving a pokeball. It wasn’t made of metal, probably an apricorn ball as was customary in Johto tradition. He tossed it underhand and the earth shook as a truly massive hariyama took the field.

I stood gawking. Never had a pokemon so closely resembled their trainer before. The hariyama was nearly seven feet tall, and about that wide. His thick, chubby body hid supernaturally dense muscle. And though he was smiling genially, I had a feeling we were in for a shit time.

“My one, your two,” Junjie repeated. “Send out both at a time, Aaron. I’m sure ol’ Dumpling will be fine.”

I stared in disbelief. “You named your massive hariyama… Dumpling…”

“Pork and Chive Soup Dumpling, if you want his full name. What? It’s his favorite food.”

“I… We’re about to get our shit rocked by a guy called ‘Dumpling.’”

“Hehe. If it makes you feel better, it was a lot cuter when he was a makuhita.”

“Did you name all your pokemon after food?”

“Of course. I have a hitmonlee named Pumpkin Taffy, because his legs stretch. I have a machamp named Cherry Blossom Mochi, because he pounds mochi extra-fast.”

“Are you a fighting type specialist? I thought you’d have a bellsprout because you’re from Sprout Tower.”

“I do. Well, a victreebel. His name is Beedrill Chowder,” he said brightly, patting his belly.

“I can’t tell if you’re fucking with me or not,” I deadpanned. “Did you name the spiritomb something silly, too?”

“Of course not. They’re one hundred eight spirits. Until they can come to a consensus, how can I just call them whatever suits me? Eighty-nine different foods is a bit of a mouthful, don’t you think? Besides, does it really matter? Your opponent is before you.”

“That’s true. Well, come on, then. Durvasa, Magellan, want to start us off?”

My two bruisers stepped up with eager grins. I figured that they would make for a decent fighting pair. We didn’t have much experience in doubles, but their personalities were pretty similar.

This kind of opportunity was hard to come by. Privately, I made a note to incorporate more team-wide tactics. I trusted my team to work together, especially with Artoria’s telepathy to coordinate them, but natural talent would only carry us so far. In the future, we’d be in unregulated battles more often, especially if Magma and Aqua became the problems I expected them to become.

My pokemon spread out. They eyed each other in silent communication. Dumpling waited, legs spread and hands in front like a sumo wrestler. Then, as one, my pokemon burst into action.

Durvasa was faster by far. He ran forward, but his stride shortened into rapid steps as he neared. Toes forward, elbows tucked in, he assumed a boxing stance and tightened his focus to take the brunt of the hariyama’s attacks.

Behind him, Magellan launched a barrage of Leech Seeds. They sailed over Durvasa’s head, the perfect opener to what looked to be a battle of attrition.

Dumpling, still with that wide, tranquil smile on his face, clapped his hands. His hands, each literally as wide as my entire torso, closed together with the sound of a thunderclap. A gust of wind blew forth from the impact, bracing against the oncoming Leech Seed. Without the mass, it stalled in the air and fell harmlessly to the ground before the mighty hariyama.

That was enough time for Durvasa to close the distance. He darted beneath Dumpling’s hands and struck with a probing combination. But because he was so much shorter than Dumpling, there was no way to stay outside his range. All the giant hariyama had to do was to swing his arms wide to backhand Durvasa across the field.

Durvasa caught himself with a snarling laugh as Magellan’s Vine Whips bought him a moment. He leapt forward again with no hesitation. He tried to feint a rush, only for Dumpling to not react at all.

“He’s reading your aura,” I told him. “Circle around into Cross Chop.”

“Take it with Bulk Up,” Junjie said calmly.

Dumpling’s entire form tensed. Blood rushed through his body, oxygenating his muscles to the extreme. It provided an incredible burst of strength. The rigid state also made fighting types a lot more durable than they should be.

But it also slowed him down. It was commitment. There was no “turn order” like in a game. It took precious moments for a pokemon to tense up like this, then spring back into action.

Magellan was happy to take advantage of this. He let out an eager battlecry as he swung his head back and forth. A dozen leaves released from his head and spun through the air like shurriken.

The Cross Chop landed first. Dumpling grunted in pain, but Durvasa couldn’t even move the flexing hariyama.

“Bullet Punch,” Junjie called.

Dumpling exploded into motion. Silvery-gray light gathered in his hands. Then, with the sound of crackling air, they lashed out in a series of punches so fast that I could barely see them. Each punch knocked an oncoming Razor Leaf out of the air, parrying them with the sound of two swords clashing rather than leaves and flesh.

Durvasa did not quit. The determined monkey abandoned his boxing footwork. Instead, he did as I’d taught him once and sank to one knee. He swept around into a textbook Low Kick, smashing the hardest point of his shin into the side of the hariyama’s knee.

That, Dumpling felt. Bulk Up required he tense his body. And though hariyama were known for incredibly powerful, fast palm thrusts, that also required a firm foundation. The emphasis Dumpling placed on a stable footing forced him to fight his own weight.

“Good. Magellan, Vine Whip. Lock him down,” I ordered.

“To your knees, my friend. Quake,” Junjie responded.

Dumpling stopped fighting to stay upright. All at once, he allowed his form to collapse. His knees met the ground and the earth shook as if it’d been struck by an avalanche.

Naturally occurring earthquakes were not deadly. At least, not compared to the titanic amount of energy they involved. People didn’t keel over just because the earth shifted a few inches. The casualties reported came from bad falls and collapsing buildings.

Not so with the pokemon move. When mastered, it was considered one of the most powerful moves any pokemon could learn. Ground types had an obvious advantage and a lower skill floor, but it was so useful that plenty of trainers taught the move to as many of their pokemon as possible. The TM for it was one of the most expensive ones on the market.

The difference was, of course, aura. In some ways, Earthquake had a lot in common with Boomburst, Hyper Voice, and the like. It was a vibration-based attack that used the ground as a medium. In theory, because earth was denser than air, it could transmit more of the force up your legs and into your organs.

I’d seen high-level pokemon use it plenty of times. This lacked that instant, match-ending power, but it was also the first time I’d ever seen someone channel it through their knees.

Almost as one, Durvasa and Magellan stumbled. They grunted in pain as a vibrating force wracked their frames. So close to the hariyama, Durvasa couldn’t react as an overpowered Arm Thrust sent him flying.

Yet, my chikorita was a bitter little shit. He reached out with his vines and wrapped them around Dumpling’s neck. If he went down, he was determined to drag the hariyama with him. The problem with that, of course, was the massive weight disparity between Dumpling and Magellan.

Magellan was an alpha chikorita. He was big for his species, but that didn’t mean a whole lot. At about waist-high, he weighed about eighty or ninety pounds. Compared to the seven foot tall sumo wrestler, he might as well have been a tennis ball.

Dumpling grabbed the vines and heaved, dragging the chikorita in an ungainly tumble along the ground. Suddenly, the situation was reversed. Magellan was up front and Durvasa had been tossed aside.

“Poison Powder, full burst!” I shouted.

“Whirlwind, Dumpling,” Junjie cut in calmly.

I watched as the hariyama swept his hands around like windmills. With a single revolution, the entire cloud of powder was launched into the air. So much of it was dispersed with a single swing that there was little chance of the poison taking root. With the second, Magellan himself was swept up in the gust.

 Durvasa recovered and struck. A brace of Swifts struck the hariyama’s wrists. It did no real damage, but managed to disrupt the move. That gave Durvasa enough time to close the distance. He landed two, heavy punches into his opponent’s stomach, only to screech in rage as Dumpling took it like a champ.

This was the difference a decade made. We were making progress, but only at a glacial pace. I saw only one way to seriously deal damage.

“Magellan, Poison Powder. Durvasa, get in and Focus Blast!” I shouted.

I could see the exact instant Durvasa caught on to my plan. It’d suck. It’d hurt. And he didn’t give a fuck because he was a primeape. Pain was fuel so long as the other guy hurt just as much.

Magellan cried out as a plume of violet powder erupted from his leaf. It wasn’t an especially fast technique. But before Dumpling could blow it away again, Durvasa leapt onto one arm and weighed it down.

There was no technique here. He’d long forgotten the discipline of a boxer, replaced by sheer, overwhelming determination. And though Dumpling swung him around like a grocery bag, Durvasa weighed just enough to distract the hariyama.

Then, as the powder cloud surrounded them, Durvasa dropped to the ground. In his hands, a Focus Blast formed. It was an orb of brilliant blue that reminded me of another monkey’s Kamehameha.

Except, Durvasa was no Goku. He had zero fucking clue how to shoot the damn thing. The orb quickly destabilized. And rather than try to stabilize the hyper-dense ball of aura, my bloodthirsty monkey let go with one hand.

A spark formed in his left hand as the unstable Focus Blast flickered in his right. Dumpling, who’d moved to swirl the powder away, realized too late what Durvasa was planning.

With a vicious grin, Durvasa leapt into the air. Right when his hands were in front of Dumpling’s face, he brought them together with a howl of victory.

Fire met aura. An enormous, undirected explosion followed. This was magnified again by Magellan’s powder, not unlike how a cloud of flour became dangerously volatile.

Both fighters were shot out of the explosion. Durvasa landed with a pained grunt. Magellan was ready and immediately stuck him with a Stim Shot before rushing into the cloud of debris.

There was nothing else to say anymore. I could order Magellan to try for Reflect, but it was unstable, not even worth the energy against an opponent like Dumpling. Instead, I chose to let him have his fun. He charged the downed hariyama before he could recover, bowling him over again and slashing away happily with an unceasing barrage of Razor Leaves.

The massive hariyama took the punishment for a few seconds before, with an exertion of strength, he grabbed the chikorita and hurled him away. Durvasa, hurt but energized with Stim Shot, got up to catch his brother.

“A powder explosion? The Focus Blast is incomplete,” Junjie observed.

“It is,” I agreed. “I can’t think of anything else they can do. Magellan knows Ancient Power, but it’s not really battle-ready.”

“Still, this has been enlightening, Aaron. But I think we’ve had enough fun for the moment. Dumpling, end this.”

And that was that. This time, he leapt into the air for a proper Earthquake. Its impact was followed by a chain of Bullet Punches that put down my disoriented pokemon. My pokemon put forth a valiant effort, but the difference between them was too vast.

I smiled ruefully as I returned the pair. As Junjie said, it was a good thing we were already at a pokemon center. Although, if the stink-eye the nurses gave us was anything to go by, they most definitely didn’t appreciate that last Earthquake.

Author’s Note

Animals… kinda exist…? But at the same time, people sometimes eat pokemon? Both these things are canon. Look, I don’t really know how to square this circle.

Maybe it’s like in one of those cultivation worlds where even beasts can be “spirit beasts” and they can be intelligent, but cultivators turn them into drugs anyway. Or that sapient spark is individual-specific and more common in some species over others.

I don’t know. Pick whichever answer makes the most sense to you. For our purposes, towns like Ambertown keep herds of both, one for food and the other for miscellaneous purposes.

More importantly, Durvasa and Magellan get their shit rocked. A spiritomb’s 108 spirits comes from the 108 tribulations/afflictions of Buddhism. I made a character who may or may not come back in the future.

Animal Fact: There are three distinct types of Galapagos tortoise shell types. "Saddleback" shells, with wide, upraised brims, evolved on drier islands. They facilitate long necks, which are used to reach for brushes and branches higher off the ground. Dome-like shells are found on wetter islands, where tortoises can more easily reach vegetation on the ground. There is even an intermediate shell type that facilitates a combination of feeding habits.