"Ma rill!"

  Water crashed against a pane of Psychic might, prismatic arcs shining amongst the deflected spray.

  "C'mon, squirt, where's all that vitriol you had a minute ago!?" the Guard taunted, his outreached palm flaring bright. Marill glared, the torrent of water quickening as she poured more power into the move. The Guard's expression sharpened, his grin growing wider.

  "That's more like it!" he exclaimed, hands shining brilliantly. "Holding my barrier will drain me dry if you can maintain this level of strength. Congratulations, you've forced me to step it up a notch! Behold my next trick!"

  With a flourish he flicked his wrist, and the barrier flashed a golden yellow. Astra's eyes widened. A Light Screen!? She'd seen Brawly's Meditite use the same technique; she had no idea that the Village knew of it too!

  The water gun roared onward, easily piercing the new barrier and washing across the Guard—

  —who began to whistle, rubbing his hands across his arms and tousling his own hair as the vastly weakened attack sprayed him like a high-pressure shower. "Hey, thanks squirt!" he chimed, grinning. "I really worked up a sweat stomping you into the dirt, a good rinse is just what I needed!"

  Astra's face scrunched up in disgust. The water gun might have consisted of more-or-less actual pure water, but it certainly looked like he was washing himself in a torrent of drool. Also, shit, that type of shield was making Marill's only ranged attack completely worthless. She had to try something new…maybe a different angle?

  Circle around; spray him from all directions!

  Hopping into action, Marill bounced around the Guard, firing off one Water Gun after another as she circumvented the weakening barrier.

  Only for him to shake his head, the old barrier dissolving as a new one was created in its place. "Good job," he praised, though the cockiness of his tone undercut its sincerity. "You know that I can't move this barrier like a regular one—but that won't stop me from just making a new one!"

  "But making the barrier is what costs you power!" Astra retorted. "Just how many of them can you make before you get tired?"

  "More than the squirt has Water Guns in her, I bet!"

  "Rill!" Marill screeched, another furious deluge only serving to drench the Guard once again, and her trainer narrowed her eyes.

  Let's put that to the test. Faster, Marill!

  The rotund Water-type sprang across the field, each breath saved for a desperate gulp of air between leaps and attacks instead of furious invectives. The Guard turned in place, easily tracking her and throwing up a new Light Screen every few seconds to absorb the watery assault.

  But the other Kirlia was right; at this rate, Marill would literally run dry before the Guard would tire out. Should she have her go in for a Tail Slam? If he could deflect all of Glade's attacks, she wasn't sure how well a straight shot would go—

  Marill tripped.

  The exceedingly ball-shaped Pokemon immediately went into a wild tumble, involuntarily cartwheeling without pause. Astra grimaced, faintly queasy at witnessing Marill's rapidly shifting perspective through their shared vision—wow she was really shooting off, wasn't she—wait.

  Half-coherent concepts and semi-fresh memories collided at the speed of thought. Astra's eyes widened. Could she—no time, do it now! She reached out, instinct and fervence breaking her doubts in the egg.

  Turn!

  The command broke through the panic in Marill's mind, the Pokemon barely pausing to emit a jolt of surprise before a vengeful glee poured out like heavy rain. She twisted, tail slamming down into the earth. Immediately the springy limb grew taut, her momentum carrying it to the very edge of its length. But instead of her tail coming loose, or Marill coming to a stop, she swerved. Using her tail as an anchor, she arced around the centerpoint and rocketed back where she came.

  The Guard's eyes widened. "What the—!?"

  With admirable swiftness he dove to the side, narrowly dodging the blue blur as she screamed by. Righting himself into a crouch, he stared as Marill began to swerve back once more and began to laugh. "Right!" he said, grinning wildly. "Now that's what I'm talking about! C'mon, just try to hit me if you can!"

  Still crouched, he braced himself and grinned fiercely as Marill—slammed her tail into the ground between them? He blinked. "What—?"

  Marill spun into her own tail and launched into the air, flecks of soil and a strange upswell of the water soaked into the arena briefly following in her wake. The Guard looked up, wide-eyed—and Marill grinned down at him, her smile even wider and utterly manic.

  "Mar."

  You know what to do.

  A water gun erupted from the sky like an impossibly pressurized spring deluge. The Guard blinked again, then scoffed and wove his hand to produce yet another Light Screen. "All that build up just to annoy me!?" he called out, the attack failing to do more than lightly scrape his coat. "You got me excited there for a moment, squirt—augh!"

  Then Marill fell through the Light Screen and slammed head-first into the Guard's torso. His eyes bugged out, a choked gasp escaping his lungs before the force carried them both to the hard ground. Marill bounced off, hurtling away as the Guard sprang up a moment later. He'd barely been down for a second, and though his breath was ragged and his chest was already bruising over, he seemed primed and ready to go again.

  But Marill had been thoroughly shaken up by the multiple impacts and wild spinning, wobbling around where she'd landed like she'd partaken of one too many fermented drinks. She shook left and right, alternating feet before finally sitting down in a dazed heap—but before she fully collapsed, the Water-type still had enough awareness left to point at her opponent and let out a sharp, mocking "Ri!"

  Astra, for her part, was feeling much the same; the mild queasiness had evolved into full-on nausea, and it was taking effort to keep the bleed-over from her teammate's perspective from flipping her stomach entirely. Looking over, she saw the Guard now leaning on his spear, the Kirlia wincing as he prodded his injury.

  "Got you!" she called, shaking off her psychosomatic illness to give the spear-Kirlia a radiantly smug grin. The Guard looked over at her, eyes lidded. Then he huffed and flashed her a begrudgingly amused thumbs-up.

  "Yeah, yeah, you got me," he admitted, the corner of his mouth quirking up. "Won't get me with a trick like that again, though!"

  "Thing go up, thing come down!" Astra said, laughing. "Who could have guessed, right?"

  "Don't make me use this on you," the other Kirlia joked, waving his spear around half-heartedly, and she smiled.

  Then it was back to business, and she reflected on the exchange as she ran over to check on Marill. This spar had been a good one. Marill's propensity to roll around at times had always been at the back of her mind, but now, with a way to direct it, it opened a rather literal floodgate of ways for her second teammate to maneuver and attack.

  Astra couldn't wait to try them all out.

  Before the Scarred led Marill over to the selection of spear-Kirlia who'd be overseeing her for the rest of the day, he came to Astra with an observation.

  "That rolling ability..." he started, looking over the sodden field. "Is it new? Hm. Potent, but both you and her need experience with the disorientation. I will devise an appropriate exercise for you to practice in your own time. But more importantly...it's not finished."

  Astra looked at him curiously, and the Elder explained: "The water that Marill had doused the battlefield with—when she was rolling about, there were times when it seemed to want to follow her. The sphere at the end of her tail, specifically. There is something there, I can feel it."

  He hesitated, then gave her an apologetic look. "I do not know what it could be. I have little knowledge of Water, and what I have seen are mere variations and strengthenings of pressurized water streams. Bubbles, at times. Perhaps humanity would know more, but for now this phenomenon is up to you to develop further."

  Astra nodded, and watched as they left. Marill wasn't quite literally bouncing with every step, but her mood—akin to the sparkling of the ocean horizon at dawn—certainly made it feel like she was.

  Her tail, huh? Hm. Water following it...there was some sort of connection here. A concept at the edge of her mind. If she could just find it...

  Astra strolled over toward the rest of her team, still absorbed in thought. It was only when Pyre shoved a ping into her head that she was startled to awareness. "So we're gonna give Marill a name now, right!?" he asked, stars in his eyes. "She was so cool! Shooting around the arena like that, then falling out of the air; it was almost like a meteor flashing in the night sky!"

  "Maybe her name could be Meteor?" asked another Ralts. A second shook their head.

  "No, that's not Water related! Maybe, uh. River?"

  "They don't all have to be related to their typing," Astra said, amused. "Slakoth's is 'Normal' for example; you won't be able to do much with that. But yes, I do need a name for Marill." Idly, she gave her laziest teammate a mental prod. "Speaking of: c'mon Slakoth, you're up next."

  "Yeah, but there's tons of water related stuff!" Acorn chimed in. "I wanna try some of those first! Oh, maybe 'Foam'? She's brash and bubbly and left suds in the mud behind her! Also he coughed up a lot of spit when she hit his chest," she finished.

  Astra made a face. "You lost me at the end there." she said. "I'm not naming her after spit."

  "How about Lake?" "Pond?" "Those are lame. Maybe...Misty?" "That's taken." "What? Why?" "I found a Lotad in a pond and—" "First the Seedot and now this!? Do you have any other names on hold?" "...I named a Silcoon Dawn—" "You gotta stop naming random creatures things." "Back to names: maybe Flood?" "Rain! No, Storm!" "What about Dew?" "Do what?" "No, I mean—ugh."

  "Oh, how about Wave?" Starstorm suggested. Astra hummed, momentarily pausing the discussion.

  "Maybe," she hedged. "But it's not quite there."

  The cast murmured amongst themselves before an unnamed Ralts spoke up.

  "Tide!" he exclaimed, waving his hands excitedly. "My mom collects stuff from the shore and she told me all about them! It's where the water rises and falls with the moon! You can clog a river and wait out a storm, but nobody can stop the tide!"

  Oh, that was good. Astra could almost see herself using that—but still, something was just slightly off about it, and she just couldn't figure out what.

  ...??

  "That could almost be it," she said, wracking her brain. Stars, this was becoming irritating. "But it's missing...something."

  Such vexation over this??

  "Ah...maybe we change it a little?" Acorn half-asked, looking uncertain. "Tida? Tidal?"

  "Riptide!" Starstorm shouted.

  "Tides!" another Ralts yelled.

  "Tigh-dah? Tai-deh?" one began muttering to themselves, dissecting the word entirely.

  "Maybe if we put other sounds in it?" Pyre speculated. "Till-dah. Tilda. Tilde?"

  Frivolous vanity.?

  Most of those were just nicknames, Astra felt; affectionate mutations of a central name that could work, but still felt off. That last one was almost a human name, she observed—but also, she somehow knew, some sort of written grammatical mark. Not worth considering; who in their right mind would use punctuation as a name?

  But if such a gift is their desire...?

  Astra sighed. It just wasn't coming to her. Marill would probably like Tide or one of its variants. Still, it left a slightly bitter taste in her mouth. Shaking her head, she looked to the cast of Ralts and—

  Then let their epithet ring true, or not at all.?

  "Luna."

  The word burst forth from the back of Astra's mind, leaving both her and her friends blinking in silence. Marill perked up, looking back from the trio of Kirlia receiving instructions from the Scarred.

  "What?" one of the Ralts asked, tilting their head. "What's that word?"

  "It's...what humanity named the moon," Astra said, slowly. Had she always known that? Where had...? Was this another memory from her?

  The cast of Ralts looked at each other, still confused. "Is that Marill's new name? Why?"

  Why indeed? Astra rolled the name around her mind, pondering the feel of it like a slow-fired roast. She recalled the Elder's words just a moment ago, about how the water had begun to flow in Marill's wake. And then, suddenly, she understood. Her eyes widened, and she let out a breathless chuckle.

  "Funny you should ask that," she said, glancing toward the nameless Ralts. "You're the one who explained it."

  The Ralts squinted at her. "What? What do you mean? I suggested Tide, not—"

  "You explained the tides," Astra interrupted, a smile forming on her face. "But that name doesn't fit. It's not who Marill is. The tides are strong, and unstoppable, yes, but Marill isn't the tide; they merely follow where she leads. And there's only one thing in existence that can tell the tide where to go.

  "Isn't that right, Luna?" Astra finished, giving Marill a warm smile.

  Luna squealed, bouncing in place and wagging her tail wildly, the exuberant joy surrounding her just as radiant as her namesake. Astra giggled, then looked down to Slakoth, nodding toward the field.

  "C'mon," she said, watching as he slowly ambled along beside her. "Time to show them what you've got."

  A tableau of destruction spread across the training grounds. Piercing spears of rock erupted from the ground like saplings reaching for the sun and craters marred the ground from where javelins had shattered the dirt. In the distance, a young tree finally gave out, the clearing filling with a shrill creaking as it toppled over. Further still, a mighty pine stood tall, albeit with a newly-cracked trunk where a rocky spear had shattered against its hardwood.

  Gracefully sidestepping yet another hurled spike, the Guard strode toward the source of the chaos. He looked down at Slakoth, the Kirlia sporting an easy, if slightly exasperated grin.

  Slakoth looked up at him from the center of a ring of stone spires, utterly calm in the face of imminent defeat. He smiled sheepishly. "Sla..."

  The Guard casually raised his spear and—with only a resigned blink from his opponent—buried it halfway into the dirt next to Slakoth's neck.

  "Dead," he announced. Again.

  Astra, who had been urging Slakoth to get up for a solid six seconds, groaned, head sinking into her palms.

  "You've got a terrifying throwing arm," the Guard noted, pulling his spear out. The remnants of the Rock Tomb crumbled with a flash of Psychic power, freeing the downed Pokemon. "But I could read your intentions from across the clearing. Too much windup, too many motions; I was dodging it before it even left your hand."

  Astra huffed. "Yeah, well, you teleported out of the Rock Tomb aimed at you. That's supposed to keep you in place!"

  "Those thin spikes wouldn't've held a Mightyena either," the other Kirlia noted. "Using it on yourself is, uh, inventive, but even if it gives you something to throw you've still trapped yourself."

  Astra grumbled for a bit, shooting the Guard a sour look when he grinned at her. He nudged Slakoth with his spear, humming. "Do you have anything else in mind, or is this it?" he asked. "I don't think we're getting anything else out of tossing rock spears at me."

  She sighed. "Well, he can scratch things with his claws pretty good, but Rock Tomb and throwing things have been our main strategy since we started." She hesitated, thinking. "Well, maybe one more thing."

  "Well don't keep me waiting!" the Guard goaded, readying his spear as Slakoth sluggishly arose from the ground. "C'mon, give me your best shot!"

  Astra nodded, then looked at her Pokemon. She...didn't particularly like having Slakoth use what she now knew to be Feint Attack. His first showcase of it during their initial training session had been a bit of a mess, and even when he used it on opposing pokemon she still had to focus on not falling for the obvious distraction. Nevertheless, it was a pretty good attack.

  "Alright, you heard him, Slakoth," she said, her private message tinged with encouraging cheer. "Let him have it! Feint Attack!"

  Skaloth reared up, dull eyes sharpening as they focused on his opponent. The Guard grinned, spear at the ready and prepared to spring into action at a moment's notice.

  A moment passed. Then Slakoth's eyes flickered to a point over the spear-Kirlia's shoulder and widened comically. "Slak!" he cried out, pointing in astonishment. The Guard gasped, whirling around in pure excitement.

  "An eclipse!?" he exclaimed, as exuberant as the sun. "I haven't seen one since—!"

  Slakoth's paw fell. A barrier vaporized into mist. A coat of protection was brushed through as though it were a mere trick of the light.

  Two claws passed through the Guard's back, leaving only deep, bloody rents in their wake.

  A reflexive pulse blasted Slakoth away, but the damage had already been done. The Guard staggered, eyes wide and almost uncomprehending of what had been done.

  Then something broke, and the field was flooded with a surge of white-hot agony, a breathless scream erupting from the wounded Guard as he fell to his knees, and then into the hurried embrace of the Scarred.

  "Boiled water, tree sap, and binding, now!" he thundered, singling out a pair of Kirlia nearest the medical chest who leapt to obey. A barrier appeared on the ground, the elderly Kirlia carefully lowering his student into a prone rest upon it.

  Astra looked on in horror, eyes wide and hands covering her mouth. That—that wasn't supposed to happen! Why had his barriers broken? How had Slakoth's claws dug in that far!? Every other opponent he'd used it on had gotten some nasty gashes, yes, but those looked twice as deep at least! Distantly, she could hear the shocked exclamations from her friends and observing villagers both, but none registered to her. She had to fix this, now. She fumbled with a pouch she'd brought with her, sprinting toward the fallen Guard.

  "Wait, wait!" she cried out, determinedly ignoring the faint looks of betrayal that flashed across the other spear-Kirlia's faces at her approach. "Don't—I can help! Please!"

  The Scarred looked up, his ever-frowning visage utterly unmoved even as water ran across the still-howling Guard's injury and thick yellow sap was pulled from a jar. "Explain," he demanded, eyes flicking to her hands.

  Astra swallowed, but held up the bottle she'd retrieved. "Human medicine," she explained, hurriedly. "They call it a super potion. It can heal terrible injuries in seconds as long as you're awake and can spare the energy."

  Everyone paused, eyes locked onto the bottle. Incredulity and awe flickered across their faces, and even the Scarred looked shocked. Beneath them, the Guard grit his teeth, the agony ripping through the air almost cutting out as he wrested control over his pain.

  "Use it," he said.

  The Scarred glanced down at him for a long moment, then looked to Astra, mouth thin. He nodded, and Astra pushed nearer, kneeling down next to the fallen Kirlia. Water ran over the Guard's wound one more time and Astra lifted the spray bottle, hesitated, then tore the top off and simply dumped what remained inside over his back. The pink liquid inside seemed to shine ever so faintly atop his coat, and then it sank into his flesh in the blink of an eye.

  Blood instantly stopped oozing from the wound as the edges glowed white, and then before their very eyes the gash began to close. New flesh appeared out of seemingly nothing, filling in the gaps until, in only a matter of seconds, what had been a ruinous wound was naught but hearty flesh covered in a fine white coat. The only evidence of harm at all were the bloody streaks surrounding the wound and running down his back; not even a scar remained to tell the tale.

  The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  The Guard abruptly rolled over and sat up, looking bewildered—an expression shared by every Kirlia there aside from Astra. He turned around, looking over his shoulder as if to look at where his wound was, and then twisted around just to test his range of motion.

  "Huh."

  "How do you feel?" one of the other Kirlia asked. The Guard blinked, then rose to his feet and spun around, rolling his shoulders and jumping from leg to leg.

  "I feel amazing, honestly," he said, a little awe seeping into his voice. "Stars, even that itch in my hand is—eh!?"

  He paused, a strange expression coming across his face as he worked his jaw. After a moment his eyes bulged and he spat into his hand. A lone tooth appeared in his palm, a small crack running along the side of it. Everyone stared at it, then back up to the Guard's face as he openly prodded a still-full set of teeth.

  "Guess that won't be bothering me anymore either," he finished, blinking. "Neat."

  "I'm sorry—!" Astra burst out, then stopped as the Guard raised a hand.

  "Hey, don't get your head in a twist, okay?" he said, smiling. "I did ask for your best shot, after all. I know you didn't mean to go that far, and you did fix me up right afterwards. Better than before, even." He motioned to his evicted tooth. "I bet this woulda been a lot more painful than those claw wounds eventually."

  "You still got hurt, though!" Astra protested. As much as she was glad that he wasn't mad at her, this wasn't something he should just be letting go!

  The Guard nodded, humming. "Yep. Think I prefer not getting raked across the back, so don't do that again, yeah? As far as payback goes...well, let's save that for after we finish up here. I'm sure I can think of something to ask you for by then."

  "Oh. Okay," Astra agreed, relieved with the calm resolution. Then she was confused by the looks the other spear-Kirlia were giving them. A raised eyebrow, rolling eyes, shaking heads, and one was even giving the Guard a cheery thumbs up. What was...?

  A ping drew her attention, drawing her attention away from the strange interaction. The Scarred stood over Slakoth, her teammate emanating a mild frustration and sorrow.

  "It appears that my student will be able to continue sparring," he observed as she drew near. Astra winced.

  "I really didn't know that would happen!" she said. "Slakoth's attack went through his barriers like they weren't there, and his wound was far too deep—!"

  "I watched it strike," the Elder said, still peering down at Slakoth. "It resembled the aftermath of a Poochyena bite. That technique channeled the power of Dark; of course it cleaved through barriers and parted his flesh like water."

  Astra gasped. "I...I didn't know," she murmured. The Scarred snorted.

  "How could you have?" he asked wryly. "I recall that 'type chart'; unless you saw its effects on a Psychic or a...Ghost...it would have looked like any common claw strike, even to my eyes." His gaze flickered toward her. "I can already guess at your thoughts. Do not discard this technique just because the source of its power is distasteful; it remains a tool at your command and will only act as you will it, if in proxy."

  Astra, who had been about to disavow ever using Feint Attack ever again, nodded instead, slumping.

  "Do any other members of your team know techniques that might be of the Dark?" he questioned, and Astra shook her head. "Ghost?" Another negative. The Scarred looked toward the distant cast of Ralts. "You shall be very cautious when directing your Nincada, do you understand?"

  "Yes…" Astra mumbled. The Scarred nodded, then sighed.

  "This was always going to be a risk," he said, moving to rest a hand on Astra's shoulder. "I expected an injury eventually, especially when involving unfamiliar techniques. That its intensity exceeded even my own expectations makes this a lesson for you and a reminder to myself: combat is never to be taken lightly, especially with unknown variables."

  Astra just hung her head, shame filling her from head to toe. The Scarred clapped her shoulder once, then let go.

  "The time for this has passed. Regret your mistake, but only so far as to learn to prevent it. I am grateful that you were able to mend his wound so swiftly—and while I would dearly like to know more about the absurdity of human medicine, there is only so much time to spend. Now I must teach your creature a lesson, and then figure out some method for him to improve."

  He spoke those last words with faint exasperation. Astra nearly smiled at the humor of it; she'd had a lot of trouble figuring out how to train Slakoth too, considering he could barely do...anything, really. But his previous remark was far too ominous to allow any mirth.

  "A lesson?" she questioned, unable to keep the nervousness from her voice. "What sort of lesson?"

  The Scarred ignored her, instead kneeling next to Slakoth. The slouching Pokemon looked up at the Elder, still exuding discontent. "You are holding back," the Scarred bluntly stated, to Slakoth's bemusement. "I see your lackadaisical manner, how you present yourself without passion or effort. But beneath it all, hidden to novice eyes, there is a boundless swell of energy coursing through every muscle, isn't there?

  "A restlessness twitching every nerve, a tension in every moment that threatens to break your skin asunder. But you won't release it, will you?" he questioned. Slakoth's eyes grew wider and wider with every word. "Perhaps you can't; not now, not when there's no reason to. That day will come soon, I can see it in you. For now, the thunder in your blood remains shackled—but that does not mean it cannot be used."

  Quick as lightning, the Scarred drew his own spear and slashed, carving a brutal trench down Slakoth's arm. A pained cry erupted from Astra's teammate, violet energies pinning him to the ground and aborting a wild retaliatory claw swipe.

  "Slakoth!" Astra screamed, automatically reaching for a potion she no longer had. Her hand grasped empty air, and a moment later both it and her teeth clenched in betrayed fury. "What the fuck are you—!?" she shouted, only for a very pointed flare of power to halt her in her tracks. If a ping was a gentle tap on the shoulder—a clearing of the throat, a heavy step on the floor to announce your presence and invite attention—then the blaring pressure freezing her in place could only be called an alarm.

  A very clear, very intense warning that, whatever she was about to do, she should stop.

  For all that she had touched upon an abyss, for all that her grandfather had called her an Elder in her own way, Astra had still only traversed the human world for two weeks. Had only been a Kirlia for a dozen days.

  The Scarred had battled against Mightyena for the span of her entire life several times over.

  When he gave her such a sharp warning, Astra could do nothing else but freeze, grit her teeth, and wait.

  "I have disabled your throwing arm," the Scarred said, his attention never once straying. "Without it, you cannot strike at those beyond the reach of your legs and offhand. They will outrun you, strike you from afar, tear you piece from piece, and you are helpless to stop them as you are.

  "But you can still help yourself," he continued, staring deeply into Slakoth's pained eyes. "Even constrained, that energy is still yours to command. Your body knows what it means to be whole, so tap into that buried strength, let your will be made manifest, and make it be so."

  Silence, but for her Pokemon's labored panting. Slakoth stared up at the Scarred, eyes as focused and alert as Astra had ever seen them. Then something seemed to...click. He blinked, tilted his head, and let out a quiet, surprised "Koth."

  Then he relaxed, closed his eyes, and went to sleep.

  Astra choked. "Slakoth!?" she exclaimed. He was lazy, sure, but he wasn't immune to pain! How in the world was he sleeping with that massive gash on his—the, uh, the huge...glowing...scratch...

  Just like the Guard's injuries moments ago, Slakoth's wound was closing before her very eyes, and this time with nary a potion to be found. After only a handful of seconds it had sealed over completely. In what seemed like no time at all Slakoth was blinking as he awoke, then sluggishly sitting up. He examined his arm, and Astra could still see an angry line tracing across the limb.

  "He...he healed himself?" Astra asked, stunned. His recovery hadn't been as thorough as a potion, but compared to before it was just the fading remnants of a bad dream.

  The Scarred replied with a hum, nodding in satisfaction. "Mm. Yes, he did well. You sound surprised," he added, turning to face Astra. "Does...Glade not mend his own wounds when he drains his opponent's life force? Surely you've seen dozens of Seedot try the same, even before your journey."

  "Well, yes…" Astra acceded. "But they're all Grass. Slakoth's, uh, Normal."

  "Are those potions of yours Grass?" he queried. Astra hesitated, and the Elder nodded knowingly. "All living things possess the ability to repair their injuries, given time. This process can be assisted with good food, cleanliness, medicine, and rest. Who are we to say it cannot be assisted by the energies within and around us? Thieving vitality may be a signature of Seedot and their ilk, but they are not the only beings in this world who can heal quicker than mere rest would allow."

  "How did you know Slakoth could do that, though?" Astra asked, trying to regain her mental footing. "Have other Slakoth come into our forest before?"

  "No, it was a matter of intuition," the Scarred explained. "I doubt I would have thought of it had I not witnessed your medicine work as it does, but once I did the notion that this one could do the same came to me quite strongly indeed."

  Astra stared at him. "You cut open Slakoth's arm on a hunch?" she quietly asked, fingers twitching. "You didn't know!?"

  "If I had been wrong, we would be having a very different conversation right now," the Elder admitted stoically. "But I was not. To call me guided by a mere hunch is also incorrect, for this conclusion was brought about by instinct, knowledge, and experience brought together into nigh-prophetic certainty. Hate how I did it all you must, but this was the best way he could learn."

  Astra clenched her hands and breathed deeply, trying to smother the seething fire in her gut. Alright. Fine. He had a pseudo-vision and cut Slakoth because he knew it would heal. That didn't mean he was right. She breathed out, glaring coldly at the Scarred. "How could you possibly think hurting him like that was acceptable?"

  "I will not pretend it was pleasant, but neither will I apologize for success," the Elder said. He looked at her, unblinking. "But tell me, how would you propose learning a technique that demands you be terribly injured to function?"

  Astra didn't respond. How could she? Deliberately harming her team in such a cold manner was unimaginable.

  "You would not have done that," the Scarred continued. "You would have tried smaller injuries, practicing again and again after battle on scrapes and bruises. Perhaps it would have taken a day or two. Perhaps a dozen. Right now? Now he knows; now he can improve. Stronger recovery, faster, with less energy. In this, he will also learn to withstand pain and endure assaults. If he must take the brunt of all attacks without fail, then I will make sure he survives."

  "He could have survived without you cutting his arm open!" Astra shouted. "Training can hurt but that's no excuse to be cruel!"

  "Is it cruel to teach him how to mend his own wounds nigh-instantaneously?" the Elder questioned. "The limits are unclear, but it seems to me that, for a moment of agony, discovering how to do away with every future moment of pain is a very worthwhile trade."

  Astra could have gone on much longer, but a groan caught her attention. She looked to Slakoth; her pokemon was looking between his arm and the Scarred curiously. A faint echo of something angry wafted from his aura, but he was mostly feeling some strange combination of resignation and determination. He...wanted to keep going?

  "Slakoth?" she asked. She sent him a mental nudge; gentle, comforting, and curious. He looked up at her and smiled lazily.

  "Koth," he replied, his voice tired but with a notion of finality. The sound itself was still as devoid of direct meaning as ever, but there was an answer nevertheless. Just like everything else, he really didn't want to bother with this. Especially if it hurt. But if he had to, he'd make sure it got done.

  After all, doing something unpleasant once was bad enough; messing up and having to do it again was horrific.

  Astra stared at Slakoth. Idly, she wondered when she became so adept at interpreting him and the others. Then she sighed and bent down, scratching that spot he liked on top of his head. He leaned into it, letting out a high-pitched warble.

  "You have the weirdest definition of lazy I've ever seen," Astra said. "It suits you, I think. But—and I can't believe I'm saying this to you—don't push too hard, okay? Just because it can help doesn't mean getting hurt is good."

  He just smiled back at her, but a flick of his eye and an infinitesimally brief spike of rage told her that he wasn't going to forget what the Elder had done. Astra gave him one last scritch and then stood, her smile fading away.

  "Never do that again," she said, glaring at the Scarred again. He returned her stare, unaffected in the least.

  "There is no need for such measures any longer. Refinement will be a much milder process." He looked down at Slakoth, humming. "Healing makes training much easier, but his torpid nature will still prove an obstacle. Nevertheless, there is a way forward. Go retrieve your Nincada," he instructed her, simultaneously calling out to another trio of Kirlia. "There is still much to be done today."

  Astra approached her friends, a scowl on her face and hands still clenched. The Matron had already showcased that being an Elder didn't stop you from being a jerk, but she hadn't expected that sort of nonchalant violence to be directed at her teammate.

  So consumed was she with her smoldering anger, she almost didn't notice when she stepped into a circle of nervous silence, looking up to find herself amongst the cast of Ralts and the rest of her team once more. Their expressions were a mix of confusion and apprehension, and Astra's expression softened as she realized why. She doubted they had noticed the fullness of what had happened with Slakoth, but the Guard's injury had not been a silent affair.

  "Hey," Astra said, smiling weakly. "I'm sorry you all had to see that. I didn't know..." she trailed off, words failing her. "I didn't know," she finished, averting her gaze.

  "Is he going to be okay?" Acorn asked, a faint wisp of worry leaking into view. "I—I've never seen spear-Kirlia act like that. Or...or get hurt so bad."

  "He's perfectly healthy," Astra assured her, emanating honest reassurance. "I had some human medicine that healed him in the blink of an eye. It even fixed one of his teeth! If anything, he's actually better than he was when he got here."

  Relief swept through the whole cast, and the mood began to lighten as they started to pester her about human medicine and, eventually, Slakoth's performance in his so-called 'spars'. Not all of them were so easily distracted—Starstorm in particular had hung back and was giving a pensive stare toward the training field—but she was fairly confident there wouldn't be any negativity cascade now.

  "I'll have to head back out there soon," Astra interjected as Nincada skittered up to her side. She could see Swablu quietly sitting on a Ralts's head and Aron peeking out from beneath another one's coat. Had they been trying to ride her or something? Sure Aron was tough and Ralts were super light, but the size difference alone was far too great! "I don't suppose anyone thought of some names for Slakoth while we were out there?"

  The cast hesitated as one.

  "Lazyfur?" one Ralts attempted. "Deepclaw?" another tried. A few awkward stares were directed his way.

  "Stalagmite?" Pyre suggested. Astra blinked at him and he scratched his head. "My aunt helped bring back all of the Abra. She told me about the caves and they had these stone spear things poking up from the ground, right? Slakoth kept attacking with those, so I thought..."

  "It's a good idea, but it doesn't really fit him, I think." Astra said. "His attack is just an attack; it doesn't represent who he is."

  She paused and looked around, but nobody else seemed to have any idea for Slakoth's name. "I suppose there's not much to go on for him," she mused. A smile crossed her face, and she looked over the crowd once again. "Did I ever tell you how I met Slakoth?"

  Eyes brightened at the prospect of storytime, and excited voices soon filled the air as the gathered Ralts clamored to find a good spot to sit down. Swablu ended up swaddled in Acorn's lap while Aron rested snugly between Starstorm and another Ralts, who were thoroughly polishing her metal shell with their hands.

  Astra giggled. "It's not that long of a tale, to be honest," she began. "It happened just two days after I left the village. I was making dinner in a distant forest on the other side of Petalburg—the human city to the north—when, uh." She hesitated, then shook her head and continued on. "I had an argument with a friend and left the cookpot unattended for a little while. When we came back, we found Slakoth standing there and scooping bits of meat out. The meal wasn't cooled down at all, by the way! He was dipping his paw into boiling hot broth and eating steaming hot Magikarp without a care in the world!"

  A few Ralts laughed at that, while others looked shocked. Astra sighed, fondly thinking back to that night. "We tried to knock him away from the pot, but he barely noticed our attacks; he even threw May's Torchic into a tree so hard he fainted. But then he didn't think it was worth the effort to stop the momentum of his own attack and just fell over," she continued, deliberately ignoring her audience's brief confusion at the unfamiliar name. "Glade started hopping on his back but Slakoth didn't even seem to notice.

  "After all that, I decided that he was going to make up for pilfering our dinner and caught him," Astra concluded, turning to look over at Slakoth fondly. He was being very slowly dragged away by the trio of spear-Kirlia assigned to him, but looked back once he felt Astra's attention on him. "I know he looks lazy, but I think it's more an odd form of patience," she said. "He holds back, waiting for the right moment to put his full force into whatever he wants to do in one big burst.

  "But that doesn't mean he isn't a slacker who doesn't want to do anything—or that he's ever stopped stealing my food," Astra sighed, smiling at her third teammate. "But just like the meal he stole, he's going to season and simmer until everything is just right, and then serve his opponent their butt on a steel plate.

  "Isn't that right, Stew?" she asked, looking right at Slakoth.

  He blinked, eyes wide, then seemed to cackle, a staccato of high-pitched 'Ka's filling the air. He smiled, head slowly drooping into a languid nod—or he was falling asleep again. But his eyes still sparkled, and Astra knew she'd hit the mark.

  "Koth," he said, tone placid but still radiating amused joy. Something resembling pep entered his steps, and the Kirlia escorting Stew breathed a sigh of relief as the Slakoth finally began to move in what passed for earnest.

  The Ralts weren't so enthused, calling Stew lame or boring. Astra took their complaints with grace, but her mind was set. Still, some of them did have one point.

  "You asked us for help with names, but you haven't picked a single one of our suggestions!" Pyre complained.

  "You've still been helpful!" Astra said. "I wouldn't have thought of Glade or Luna without your help, and I'm sure you'll help out with Nincada, Swablu, and Aron too, right?"

  "I guess," Pyre grumbled, but Astra could see he wasn't entirely convinced. Ah well. It was on them to come up with something good. She hoped they did, but she wasn't choosing something unfitting just to soothe their egos.

  "C'mon Nincada, " she said, looking down to the Bug at her side as she started back towards the training field. He buzzed, the ever dutiful insect ready and waiting for her word as always. She'd yet to have an in-depth session with him—and with Swablu, for that matter. There just hadn't been time while they were in Rustboro for more than live battling and basic exercises. Aron didn't even have that; she'd only joined two days ago, and she hadn't had a single battle yet!

  "You're long overdue for some serious practice!" Astra grinned. It was time to find out what these three could really do!