Re-Gress

As I sluggishly come to awareness, something is immediately obvious: I don’t feel right.

But…

That’s as far as my mind will cooperate, fuzzy thoughts failing to snap together…

My paw itches. I scra-WrongEverything’s wrong

-oh.

Carefully, I extract my arm from where it’s pinned against my side at an unnatural angle, and flex my elbow experimentally. It doesn’t feel quite as bad when I’m expecting it, but I can’t say that I enjoy it, either – not when my instincts blare at me that something is irreparably wrong.

I heave a deep breath. I need to get up and do something, I feel trapped in my own skin, and I know it’ll be unbearable come breakfast.

I squint my eyes open, and the thought instantly falls away.

Chikorice quietly snoozes, draped across me like a saurian pillow and utterly lost to the world. Her leaf pulses a mellow pink with each delicate breath.

I commit the sight to memory and drop my head back into the dry grass with a wry smile. I can’t just wake her now, not if it means spoiling such a blessed moment…

…

Wha-

How long… was I out?

“Jamie? Are you awake?” Chikorice asks. I yawn long and silent, covering my eyes with my paws.

Hands.

Still too tired.

“’m awake,” I manage, gathering my tenacity to crack open an eyelid and- ow. Bright. “Never mind, wake me up at lunchtime.”

“Nope!” she bubbles cheerfully, but then her voice turns embarrassed. “You’re going to need to help me. I’m a little… erm, stuck.”

Stuck? Stuck how?

Curiosity picqued, I try to blink away the sleep and catch a glimpse of Chikorice’s leaf, bare inches above my face and flushed peach with embarrassment.

And then, as I begin to process my other senses, I realise why. She’s-

I stifle a laugh.

“No, don’t!” she wails, her leaf flaring a bright crimson.

“How-“ I have to hold in another snicker and she smacks me on the cheek for it. “How did this happen?”

Huffing, Chikorice braces her trapped limbs, and then-

OW!

-She manages to peel her cheek away from my neck to glare at me.

“We’re stuck,” she pouts cutely. Half of her face is brightly marked, and the other half is beginning to pinken. “That’s as much as I know.”

Okay.

Okay, it was probably something to do with the rain. We couldn’t dry off properly after all, not in such a cramped space with the rain pouring down outside. But this shouldn’t be too difficult to fix, should it? We just need to…

Ouch.

Ow! Owowow! That- ow- really stings!

Finally, after minutes and painful minutes, we manage to pry ourselves apart. By the end of it even I’m blushing profusely. And-

pff.

I break down into full-blown laughter despite Chikorice’s giggly, embarrassed protests as we stare at the red-raw, vaguely Chikorita-shaped mark stretching down my torso.

---

The drizzling rain has died down into a fine mist by the time we’re prepared to set off through the forest.

My clothes mostly dried overnight, hung up in the most sheltered branches and as close to the fire as we could safely leave them. Chikorice uses Natural Gift: Fire to dry them out the rest of the way. The fabric is uncomfortably warm when I put it on, and it smells faintly of fruit-wood smoke now, but both will fade with time – infinitely better than suffering through chafing dampness on top of irritated skin for the entire day.

My stomach rumbles loudly. We need to find a Dungeon soon, or at the very least something to eat.

We rarely pack much food for exploration because our Rare Qualities let us siphon Dungeon energy for sustenance. It’s a major part of our rise to becoming the most revered of Rescue teams – less food means more bag space for the powerful but situational items that most teams can’t afford to carry, more space for the Dungeon’s spoils, and sustainable recovery for even the longest of Dungeons.

But there’s one glaring weakness to our strategy:

Outside of a Dungeon, there’s no energy to siphon.

We’ll starve before long out here.

Our trek through the forest continues mostly in silence, since I’m still wobbly on my hind legs and Chikorice is busy foraging. The only food she can find are berries, but there’s enough of them to last us a fair while. Bonus: a couple of them are Oran! They don’t work so well outside of a Dungeon, but they’re still an effective cure for the damage caused by starvation. If we wait until the hunger pangs turn painful and then-

Cramping pain suddenly shoots through my body and I pitch forward in surprise as much as weakness. We haven’t been walking that far; I’m starving, yes, but I shouldn’t be feeling it so strongly yet-

An Oran appears in front of my snout and I look up to find Chikorice, shifting her weight in concern. I eat it, and immediately my stomach untwists… But it shouldn’t have had such a big effect.

Not just our attacks are weaker. Our bodies are, too.

I should have considered that sooner.

And for that matter, if we need to train to become stronger again… What if I can’t grow like I did before? Some evolutions never become as strong as their previous forms, and that’s for Pokémon! what does it mean that I’m a Human now?

Could I never use Pokémon moves properly again? Will I never have the same connection I used to?

Can I even fill my role on the team anymore?

“Jamie, something’s bothering you.”

I swallow the lump in my throat with difficulty, and offer her a weak smile as we set off again, trying to gather my thoughts. Chikorice can read me like a flyer.

“What if I can’t grow?” I ask under our footsteps. “I don’t remember being a Human, but I at least know they aren’t Pokémon. What if I can’t get stronger now?”

Chikorice looks at me oddly.

“Jamie, we battled an Arm of Sinnoh last summer,” she says after a long moment. “We climbed the most gruelling Dungeon we’ve ever seen, and then fought the strongest Pokémon we’ve ever met. Do you remember how that went?”

It… went well.

Very well.

…No, that’s an understatement. We swept through the Perilous Heavens with ease. We didn’t just clear the trial and defeat Arceus – we saved lives, befriended dozens of Pokémon along the way and recruited a portion of a literal god into Synergy.

Most Rescue Teams leave the Heavens with bruised pride and a healthy dose of humility. We left more powerful than we could have ever dreamed.

“And none of it was anything that we couldn’t have done as you are now,” Chikorice tells me warmly. “Your strength was never in your body, Jamie. I thought you knew that.”

I did know that.

It seems I need reminding, sometimes.

---

There are Pokémon around.

They’re the kinds of Pokémon that you’d often find in a forest – mostly Bug-types, with the occasional Pidgey or Spearow. Not quite feral like you’d see in a forested Dungeon, but nowhere near civilised either.

They are far from the determined, cunning Caterpie and Butterfree we left behind, already tackling Mt. Thunder as Team Chrysalis. Their sounds barely even carry Voice – the wild-going Pokémon we usually meet, even those who care nothing for social settlements, always speak with Voice. 

They avoid us for the most part, agitated by our presence in their territory but held back by their fear. Some particularly brave Weedle try to ambush us, but even in our weakened state it never takes more than a few Tackles to take care of them, and Chikorice doesn’t even need to waste energy on Ancient Power.

There’s little to worry about.

And then Chikorice gets poisoned.

Even more humiliating, it’s by a Weedle that I couldn’t take down in one hit.

We’re too weak for poison. We’d already be struggling if we were fighting anything more than these Bugs, but with the poison we can’t risk Chikorice moving too much, and the Bugs are closing in so quickly now that they sense weakness that I can’t use Heal Bell without risking a dozen hits. The most I can do is power through them all with Hyper Voice, but even then, occasionally one survives the first attack and gets a sting in, slowly whittling us down.

Then the Beedrill come, and we’re forced to turn tail. From there it’s a blur.

And yet, as we tear past trees and shrubs, thorns catching on my clothes and nettles stinging my bare feet, identical adrenaline-fuelled grins split our faces.

There’s a reason we attempted the Joyous Tower climb so often.

Chikorice turns to me as we run, much the worse for wear from the poison, and I’m ready when she takes a sideways leap into my arms – heavy, but I’m the one who carries our bag; this is nothing. I barely stumble under her added weight, barrelling through the undergrowth like a Pokémon possessed.

Chikorice chances a glance behind us and pales, sickly blue. “They’re gaining on us!” she yells hoarsely over the rush in my ears. I woodenly stomp on, refusing to give an inch.

Another Beedrill cuts off our path, buzzing Voiceless curses at us as it rears to strike. It’s met with a lucky shot of Ancient Power and drops like as many rocks, but my hesitation costs us a tail-length-

Something snags on my mind. My grin returns in full force, wide and feral.

A white needle tears into my sleeve,

and then my next

step

launches.

---

It’s far from a perfect victory, I reflect as we roll into a collapsed heap in the middle of an open field, panting heavily. In fact, it comes with a hefty sacrifice.

Tackle is the perfect endurance move – respectable damage, reliable and efficient. Heal Bell is absolutely necessary for a team that packs light and uses its berries for attacking. Helping Hand is absurdly powerful alongside Chikorice’s type coverage and self-healing.

Hyper Voice is perfect for clearing hoards of weak enemies, but too draining for much else. It’s my safety net, for when Chikorice is out and I need to fend for myself, or when we’re surrounded. And it’s saved us hundreds of times.

Several times, just today.

But in that instant, we needed Quick Attack.

I don’t know when, or even if, I can get Hyper Voice again. Usually I’d just go to Gulpin for that, but… I catch sight of my furless hand. something tells me that there’s more than just land and sea separating us.

I sigh in frustration, chiming Heal Bell. We both immediately relax as the poison seeps away – I guess that last grazing hit from the Beedrill was a Poison Jab or Twineedle.

I should be grateful. It’s proof that I’m still a Pokémon at heart, that I learned Quick Attack when I did – even if I never fully recover the strength I had as an Eevee, I can at least improve relative to my current self. But all I can feel is the empty space in my throat where power should be, and the almost mocking sense of initiative running through my limbs.

Sighing again, I reach over to gently unravel Chikorice’s tattered leaf where I know she carries berries.

A few berries drop into my hand without resistance. Only one slightly-squished Oran, and some assorted status-healers.

Tattered it may be, but Chikorice’s leaf is intact enough not to worry me. Her breathing is ragged and she’s largely unresponsive, but even like this she could muster a powerful Giga Drain if we can find an enemy to use it on. I’m doing poorly myself – usually it wouldn’t be an issue, but there’s no Dungeon energy here to support my recovery.

Chikorice could heal herself in a few minutes; for me it would take hours. The choice is obvious.

She chews unthinkingly when I place the Oran to her mouth, which I’m grateful for – if she were fully conscious, she would have refused outright. Although I suppose it wouldn’t be necessary if she were.

Her eyes snap into focus as her wounds begin to heal – not as effective as it usually would be, but still enough to bring her back to relative health.

She gets one good look at me and predictably opens her mouth to protest.

I cut her off, “The Pokémon here resist Grass, and it’s too risky to get close enough for a Giga Drain anyways. I can heal the hard way. But one of us needs to be alert.” She thinks it through for a moment and slumps, glaring into the distance, still too exhausted to speak. “I don’t know my own limits yet,” I finish, gesturing at myself in general. “I wouldn’t be at my full potential, even if we did heal me.”

Even to me, the excuses sound flimsy. I know that I could have led us out of here just fine.

But seeing Chikorice like that… I could never.

We take a minute to rest in the short grass, taking in our states. Chikorice is still covered in scratches and nicks, her leaf still raggedy and limp despite the berry.

I hiss as the adrenaline is flushed away and the pain starts to set in.

My feet throb uncomfortably and I pull them out from under me. They’re… ruined, pretty much. Blood seeps from between the toes, the soles are covered in nicks, scratches, stings and even a few embedded thorns, and there’s a huge scuff on the top of my right foot from when it slipped off a tree-trunk during that last-ditch Quick Attack, purple and white with layers of broken skin peeling off. I flex my toes, studiously ignoring the sting, and decide that I can probably still walk.

Well, hobble.

Then, with the pressure off my feet, my left arm flares up like it’s been dipped in magma and I can’t entirely hold back a whimper as I finally catch sight of my shoulder beneath the torn cloth – Because that’s a bit more than a graze.

That’s… there’s so much bloodEevee don’t bleed that much-

Chikorice, wide-eyed and horrified at the sight,

…

“-mie. Jamie! Listen to my voice!”

Chikorice. I blink dumbly through the tears (when did they well up?) and she comes back into focus, blurry but there.

She’s… hugging my wrist. With her front legs. She’s great… a

Why am I shaking?

I think I’m gonna throw up… I wish I could throw up. Maybe the rumbling static in my ears would go away.

“-deep breaths,” she’s saying. She’s been saying for a while. I can do that.

“In.” My ribs ache, I can’t stop shaking-! I can’t breathe

“Hold.” My eyes snap shut. Chikorice is saying something, I don’t know what, but it’s calm. We’re calm.

“And ou-“ I swallow coppery something and choke on what’s left in my throat, a strangled bubbly sound above the noise.

…Okay.

In. I close my eyes again, Chikorice still calm. It’s fineI can’t hear her-

Hold. My heart thumps madly in my ears. We’re safe. Chikorice is calm, we’re fine.

And out.

I’m back.

I swallow what’s left of the blood – probably from my gums – grimacing at the metallic aftertaste. I wish I had some water. My stomach threatens to spill its contents, but the buzzing in my ears is leavi- OH there it is again-

I turn away from my partner and unceremoniously retch into the grass. Finally. My vision’s spotty, my teeth hurt, my throat is burning-

Again, and my throat seizes up.

Again, and the buzzing…

Stops.

Chikorice pats me hard on the back as I spit out the last of it. It’s too red. Just my gums though, I’m fine.

We’re fine.

And then I can breathe again, I can hear again, my stomach’s settled and it’s such a relief that I break into low, heaving laughter for a moment. Chikorice releases her tight grip on my wrist and slumps, joining in on the relief, if not the laughter.

I can’t blame her for that.

We just breathe slowly, deeply for a while together, as my addled brain struggles to grip onto something that I don’t remember learning.

It eventually slots into place.

Resigning myself to the chilly breeze, I brace myself against the pain to pull my ripped-up t-shirt gingerly over my head, and hand it to a bewildered Chikorice. “Tie that over the cut,” I instruct, voice too weak. “It should slow the blood down. It needs to be tight.”

She nods resolutely, and barely a minute later my shirt has been repurposed as a makeshift bandage, tied with vines to keep it in place. I can’t help but be impressed – Pokemon don’t bleed much and I’m not sure Chikorita even have blood, so we’ve only ever been bandaged up by trained healers at the end of our expeditions, and then only rarely.

“Alright,” I say, picking myself up off the ground. My undamaged arm aches tremendously at the force, my mouth tastes like acid, my scabbed feet scream their protests and I leave blood on the grass behind me, but I ignore it all. “We need to walk.”

Well, hobble.

---

“…Where are we?” Chikorice wonders idly as she trots alongside me. She occasionally steals an assessing glance at my feet or my arm, and I’m endlessly grateful that she still trusts me to continue in this condition, even as a Human.

We’ve both had worse before (minus the blood), but it’s a rarity, and never without our badges or an Escape Orb ready.

She hasn’t brought up the Oran mishap either, trusting that I’ve already realised my own idiocy, for which I’m endlessly grateful. Relying on my sense of pain instead of actually checking my injuries was a huge oversight on my part, especially since I have such a high tolerance in the first place.

I stand by the end result, but we were incredibly lucky that it worked out that way. If that needle hit just a slightly different spot, it could have cost me my arm.

I can’t let that happen again.

I push aside the introspection, looking around properly for the first time since the Beedrill. Chikorice steered us onto a pale sandy path at some point while I wasn’t paying attention, and she’s apparently been herding my subconscious into staying on the grass so I don’t get grit in my cuts.

After the path, the second thing that jumps out at me are the strange shapes ahead: a set of huge grey pillars peeking out over the hilly terrain, decorated with tiny little shiny black squares and topped with an assortment of odd shapes. Is that a row of bushes on one of them…? I think I can see them rustling in the breeze.

I make to jot it down in the map, before I realise that we don’t have one anymore.

Well, assuming we were at the team base when we vanished, Absol and Magnezone will take possession of it and-

Focus on the question, Jamie.

I give the slowly encroaching structures another once-over. “They almost look like team bases,” I frown, absently tripping on nothing. “Look, I’m pretty sure those squares are windows.”

Chikorice is lost for words for a moment. “Those are buildings? They’re HUGE!” she yells in something between horror and excitement, springing up onto her hind legs for a better look. She just about reaches my chest-height, I note, touching back down after a few seconds. “How many Pokemon must live there, for bases that big to be necessary?! It’s like a gigantic rescue team plaza! Jamie, we need to go look!”

I chuckle. “We need to get me fixed up anyway, remember?” Suddenly being reminded of my grievous, debilitating injuries seems to put a damper on her mood. So naturally, I double down. “I might never walk again,” I intone as dramatically as possible, lifting a paw (hand) to my heart.

The effect is dampened slightly since I happen to be walking.

“Don’t joke about that!” she scolds through an unwilling smile, whapping me gently with a vine. I count it as a victory.