Learning to Fly
Chapter 5: Training
A Clover Guild Story
By Ribombee-anon
Previous part: https://rentry.org/RibombeeFly4
The days after my meeting with KFC were somewhat tumultuous. As Sneasel and I continued our usual dungeoneering work, my nervous mind constantly drifted back to what our guildmate had discussed with us. Sneasel was thinking about it too, and she kept bringing it up excitedly, happy that I might finally overcome the problems that had plagued me for my first month as a Ribombee. I had to admit her enthusiasm was infectious. Still, it didn’t fully eliminate my anxiety about how the training would go, and whether it would really allow me to balance my Aura and achieve flight.
On an otherwise ordinary morning, the Combusken came over to sit with me and Sneasel at breakfast. He usually ate by himself, so I knew something was going on. I didn’t ask him about it, though, because I didn’t want to pester him. Sneasel had less tact, and restrained herself for only a minute before eagerly asking KFC if he’d finished planning out a routine.
“I’m glad you asked,” said the Combusken. “I actually wanted to talk with you two about it. Booker, I finished my preparations. Unless you have some other jobs you need to do today, we can get started in about an hour.”
My heart skipped a beat. “R-really? That’s great news! Thank you.”
“Awesome!” said Sneasel. “So you got the OK from Lliam, huh?”
KFC nodded. “The guildmaster said it’s fine for me to spend time training you, Booker, since it’s for a good cause. We’ll wait an hour to let your food settle, then we’ll meet in the dojo.”
I went back to my breakfast, but it was hard to keep eating. I was practically shaking, and my appetite was waning as excitement and trepidation filled my mind. Once the three of us finished breakfast, I wanted to pass the time and try to relax, so I decided to go to the library and read by myself. Sneasel brought me there, then went out into the town to give me some alone time.
Someone had left a book open on a desk, and I absentmindedly looked it over. It appeared to be a sort of collaborative notebook, written in both English and the native Pokemon language, in multiple types of handwriting. It contained notes on landmarks in the area around Capim Town, probably written by guild members to record their travels and compile information. I read the book, only half-focusing on the words, wondering what it would be like to fly and travel to these places and others. I doubted I’d be able to go far, considering my tiny size and low stamina. Even after learning how to fly, I wouldn’t be able to wander very freely. I’d still be tied to Sneasel.
The thought made me wince. I didn’t like being chained to her. She was supportive and friendly, and I was lucky to have her as a partner, but I hated the thought of being helpless and dependent on someone else forever. It not only emphasized how weak I was, but it also made me feel bad for being a burden on Sneasel.
I groaned and rubbed my head. This training needed to produce results. I couldn’t afford to fail. Although I had no intention of leaving my partner forever, I needed to become more independent, able to move around and hold my own without her helping me all the time.
For now, that was just a dream. But in less than an hour, I would see see if that dream could come true.
* * *
The appointed time arrived, and Sneasel returned. She enthusiastically asked if I was ready. I reluctantly and silently nodded. She placed me on her head again, and we went downstairs to the dojo.
This was among the biggest rooms in the building, and already well-stocked despite the newness of our guildhall. The room was a large open space with plenty of useful training tools, including sandbags, wooden training dummies, targets, and weights. The center of the room had a tatami circle with some markings painted on it, set up as a ring for sparring. To the left side of the room was a shooting gallery with many targets for Pokemon to practice their ranged moves. The wooden walls of the dojo had been covered with fire retardant white paint to protect against stray flame and energy. The exterior-facing walls had some windows, though there were also lanterns sitting around for nighttime training.
I had only visited this room a few times before, whenever Sneasel convinced me to step away from my writing and reading to watch her train instead. I liked spending time with her like that, but I always declined to do any training of my own, due to a variety of excuses: I was too busy learning about the new world; I was too busy with work; I had never physically trained as a human, and I wasn’t sure how to do it; I was too self-conscious to work out in a room with other people; and so on. However, there was also the more practical problem that nothing in the room was scaled for an individual as tiny as me. The equipment in the dojo came in a variety of sizes for many kinds of Pokemon, but the smallest ones were meant for Pokemon around three times my size, such as Chespin or Wooper.
I didn’t see those two guildmates of mine in the dojo now, or any other Pokemon, except KFC (who was lifting some weights by the wall) and a Raboot. She was training against an upright log, kicking it repeatedly. I recognized her as a fellow human-turned-Pokemon, Casey. However, she was somewhat curt and usually kept to herself, so I rarely saw her and never interacted with her. She paused to wave at me and Sneasel as we entered the room, then quickly returned to her training.
KFC saw us come in. He set down his heavy kettlebell with a bang and walked over to the sparring mat. “Welcome to the dojo, you two. Booker, take a seat at the square here.”
Part of me wanted to stay up here on my partner’s head, but I knew I couldn’t delay things any longer. I stood up and jumped forward, hopping off Sneasel and floating to the floor using my wings like a parachute. KFC and I were at opposite sides of the painted box in the middle, and we both sat down. I looked up at the Combusken before me and my partner behind me. It was a bit unsettling; I spent very little time on the ground, because being down here around normal-sized Pokemon made waves of nervousness wash over me. Luckily, once I could fly, I’d be able to stay up high as much as I wanted.
Sneasel sat off to the side, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees. “You don’t mind if I watch, right?” she asked KFC. “I’m kinda curious about how this is gonna go. Maybe I’ll learn some stuff too, y’know?”
“You can spectate,” replied the Combusken, “or you can train on your own if you want. Just don’t get in our way. Now, Booker... I’ve spent some time thinking about how we can go about this. You already told me you’ve never done any training like this as a human, so we’ll be starting from square one. But that’s okay. We all have to start somewhere. And we’ll start slow. You can exercise a few days a week for the first couple weeks, and work your way up to doing it daily.”
“Okay...” I said. “Then, w-what’s your plan? What kind of training should I do?”
“First, let me recap what we discussed a few days ago. Your Aura is distorted because you still haven’t adapted to your new body, probably because your size and biology are so different now. If you remove the disconnect between your sense of self and your physical form, your broken Aura should gradually return to normal, enabling you to use moves and even fly. To improve your connection with your body, you have to exercise and meditate. We can also try some other methods, like adjusting your diet and sparring with other Pokemon. But first, we’ll focus on exercise.”
“Alright, then. I was wondering, though... will working out actually m-make me stronger? With this exoskeleton, I’m not sure my muscles can actually g-grow at all...”
My partner snickered. “Now I’m imagining what a buff Ribombee would look like,” she said, unable to hide her smirk. “That’s a funny image.”
“That image may not become reality,” KFC said. “You’re correct, Booker: this routine might not actually improve your strength. However, it will definitely boost your endurance and stamina—helping you exert yourself for long periods of time and at maximum power, respectively. Also, remember: the main point of this is to get you comfortable in your body, and help you understand how it works. Exerting yourself is a good way to do that, whether it makes you stronger or not.”
“O-okay...” I said. “What should I do first?”
“Well, I wanted to throw you into the deep end with something intense. That’s how I started training when I was younger, and I believe that’s the best way to learn. No pain, no gain. Unfortunately, when I told our guildmaster about my plans, he disagreed. I’m still not sure why he thought having you train on Zero Isle was a bad idea. It sounded fine to me.”
I gulped. I would have asked KFC if he was joking about throwing me into that nightmarish place, but I knew enough about him to understand that he was no joker.
“Lliam wants me to go easy on you,” the Combusken continued, “at least for the first couple days. I’ll ramp up the difficulty over time, but we can start simple so you can ease into your new body and this new training. Stretch for a bit, then I’ll have you take a few laps around the sparring mat. Jog or briskly walk one lap, and do a standard walk for the next. We’ll probably go for ten minutes or so.”
KFC demonstrated a variety of stretches, which I copied. Though we had different proportions, we were both humanoid, so we could do the same basic stretches. After this, he sent me on my way. The ring was big enough for two Pokemon to move and dodge comfortably as they sparred. It would take ten or fifteen seconds for a regular Pokemon to jog all around it. At my size, it took a minute or so. It was made more difficult by the fact that my feet were oddly shaped, so it was hard to balance. It felt like I was constantly walking on tiptoes, or I was a ballerina en pointe. I had slowly gotten the hang of walking over the last month—the trick was to move deliberately and keep track of my center of balance—but jogging and running were still hard. In addition, my low weight made me unusually light on my feet, and my big head and petite torso made me top-heavy, so I constantly stumbled.
Sneasel saw me struggling and chuckled. “Did you forget how to run? You’re like a baby learning how to get around for the first time.”
I tried not to let her playful ribbing get to me, but it still distracted me enough to make me trip again.
“Careful,” said KFC. “You can control your wings now, right? A small amount, at least. Maybe you can use them to help you balance.”
I pushed myself up again and resumed jogging, trying to take KFC’s advice. Unfortunately, my wings were so thin and light that moving them didn’t seem to make a difference to my center of gravity. Tilting them back did reduce wind resistance, though, making it a bit easier to keep moving forward. And if I felt myself stumble, I could angle my wings to catch the air and delay my fall, giving me an extra moment to regain my balance.
As I looped around the ring, I ended up facing towards Casey. She had stopped her training to lean up against her log and watch me. “Having trouble?” asked the human-turned-Raboot. “Don’t go full speed right away. Speed up over time.”
“That’s right,” said KFC. “You’re not trying to set a record. No need to run.”
I nodded and slowed down a bit, trying to be cautious and concentrate on my balance. From his seat in the center of the ring, KFC slowly rotated in place and kept watching me silently. Sneasel attempted to do the same, but soon grew bored, and hopped up to practice her Quick Attack against a nearby training dummy, occasionally looking over to see how I was holding up. In contrast, Casey grew interested in how I was doing. She came over to slowly walk alongside me, bending over to check my form as I ran.
“Look ahead,” she told me. “Don’t look down. Don’t lean forward. Don’t hold your arms up by your chest. Keep them low. And bend the elbow at 90 degrees. And—”
KFC interrupted her, saying, “I was going to wait until he was done to point out the problems. I was planning to ask him if he noticed any issues himself, and any places he could improve. But I guess this works too.”
“Sorry,” said Casey, rubbing the back of her head. “I used to be an athlete, you know. I get pretty invested in this kind of stuff.”
“It’s alright. Just giving you a hard time.”
“So... I’m really... bad at jogging?” I asked. My breathing was becoming a bit ragged by now, but I didn’t need to talk between labored breaths—as a bug, I breathed through tiny holes in my sides instead of my mouth, so I could speak and breath at the same time. Even so, it was hard to concentrate on talking, breathing, balancing, and maintaining good form all at once, so I kept pausing. “Sounds like I... k-keep making... mistakes...”
“Kinda,” said Casey. “But don’t feel bad. It’s cool you’re trying to get some exercise. Too many people never bother to do that. And I heard KFC say you never worked out before. So it’s fine if you mess up. Like he said, we all have to start somewhere.”
I focused on jogging again, continually adjusting my form as Casey suggested. As I kept going, Sneasel would randomly call out and encourage me from the sidelines, giving me some extra energy. Even so, my strength was fading, and I found it hard to maintain my form.
Suddenly, KFC clapped his hands together. The unexpected sound made me trip and stumble.
“That’s ten laps,” said the Combusken. “We can stop for now.”
I let out a long sigh of relief and slowed to a stop, but KFC told me to keep walking for a bit. He said it would help me cool off, allowing my breathing and heart rate to gradually and gently return to normal. I did as he asked, taking one final slow lap around the ring while breathing deeply to calm my racing heart. I wiped my brow a few times instinctively, even though I didn’t sweat anymore in this new body. Casey stuffed her hands into her pouches and continued inching along beside me, keeping an eye on me to ensure I was recovering from that workout without issue. Meanwhile, Sneasel left the dummy and came over, sitting in the ring at the same spot she left ten minutes ago.
“Nice job,” she said. “Seems like you’re improving, huh?”
“Guess so,” I said. “H-how was that, KFC?”
“You did fine for a beginner,” KFC said. “And Sneasel is right—you did improve your form as you went on. Before we move on to the next workout, how do you feel so far?”
As I walked, I collected my thoughts regarding KFC’s question. An answer sprung up in my head, and it surprised me. As a human, I became weak, lethargic, and sore even after a relatively small amount of physical exertion. Even now, I was certainly winded after that bit of jogging, despite the fact that it was interspersed with periods of walking. However... something was different now. It was strange, but I didn’t feel quite as tired or uncomfortable as I thought I would. Not only that, I didn’t seem to have any of the usual frustration that resulted from being forced to work out. Instead, I felt... excited? Exercising like that, even if it was quick and simple, gave me an unexplainable rush. It felt as if some voice in my head was telling me to keep going, to get stronger, to keep working out.
What was happening to me?
“I feel fine,” I said at last. “Tired, but... in a good way, I think? This was the first time I’ve really e-exerted myself and had a proper workout in a long time. I was expecting to feel pretty bad because of that. But I d-don’t. Honestly, I think I enjoyed it...”
“That’s an athlete’s mindset,” Casey said. “That’s good.”
“Yeah,” Sneasel concurred. “I was hoping you’d say something like that, partner.”
“B-but I’ve never felt that way before,” I said. “I think it’s more than just an athlete’s mindset. Is it... because I’m a Pokemon now?”
“Could be,” Casey said with a shrug. “I already liked doing physical stuff as a human. But now, I noticed that urge feels stronger.”
“That makes sense,” said KFC. “Pokemon inherently desire strength. We feel a drive to fight and train, which lets us master new moves and evolve. This is how we survive. Of course, the strength of that desire can vary, and we’re not slaves to instinct. But I guess it can feel more powerful to you if you’re experiencing it for the first time.”
“Is that what’s h-happening with me?” I asked.
“Probably. Same thing for Casey. You’ve both transformed into Pokemon, so you’re feeling these instincts now.”
I said nothing, contemplating the Combusken’s explanation. I hadn’t considered this possibility before, but now it was clear that becoming a Pokemon had changed more than just my body. My mind was being influenced as well, as if my Pokemon side was taking over. Was this a preview of things to come? Would more changes continue to happen over time? And would it go so far that I’d lose my identity and become a completely new person?
That was a frightening thought. I couldn’t let that to happen. For a moment, I wondered if I should stop training entirely, to avoid that possibility. But as I remembered my dream of flying, and my refusal to disappoint Sneasel, I rejected the idea outright. I knew this was just my anxiety welling up again and making me think irrationally. After all, the fact that I felt more motivation to work out wasn’t a bad thing in the slightest. It would be best to welcome this change... though I couldn’t shake the feeling that things would get worse over time.
Casey knocked me out of my thoughts by lightly nudging me with her foot. “Are you okay?” she asked.
“I... I’m fine,” I said. “Thanks for the concern, though. And... thank you for the advice, Casey.”
“Don’t mention it,” she said. “KFC’s your trainer, but I can probably give you some tips too. I’ve got experience with working out, so feel free to ask me. I’m not much of a talker, but I’ll see what I can do.”
With that, she went back to her training dummy, and I finished my lap, trying to clear my head of my concerns.
* * *
Once I was done, KFC had me stretch again while he outlined the next workout: weightlifting.
“As you may have guessed,” he said, “we have no weights for someone of your size. But we can improvise. Yesterday, I went to the woods and gathered rocks. I weighed them and painted the amount on them. You can use those.”
“Wait, you got lifting stones?” Sneasel asked. “Hey, we used those back on the Island! Back there, we didn’t have any of that fancy metal... metal ugly... whatever it’s called.”
“Metallurgy?” I suggested.
“That’s what I said. Anyway, point is, we didn’t work with metal back there, unlike folks around here. So we lifted rocks and logs and stuff instead of the kinds of metal weights they’ve got here in Capim.”
“Oh really? Neat. How much could you lift?”
Sneasel shrugged. “Eh... I was about average. But raw strength was never my thing. I like dodging and weaving and stuff like that. The way I see it, agility’s more important than anything. It doesn’t matter how good you punch if your enemy keeps dodging you and hitting you again and again. And with enough hits, everything goes down.”
“The best warrior knows when to be agile and when to be strong,” KFC said. “Neither option is entirely better than the other. But back to the point: we’re testing your strength now, Booker, using these stones. I’ll go get them now.”
KFC walked over to the weights, which took the form of an innocuous pile of small stones next to a rack of more traditional metal dumbbells, barbells, and kettlebells. Sneasel squinted her eyes at them and smirked.
“They look pretty dinky,” she said. “Booker’s gotta lift more than those little pebbles if he’s gonna get strong.”
“Well, they’re n-not little pebbles for me,” I pointed out.
“I know, but... Hey, I just got an idea. I know a better way for you to lift weights.”
“What do you mean?” I said apprehensively.
Sneasel lifted her arm, held her hand high above me, and said, “Think fast.”
Then her arm went limp, and her hand came crashing down on me.
I didn’t think fast enough. I crumpled under the weight of her falling hand, knocked flat on my back and pinned down. Her hand covered most of my body and blocked my view, but I could hear Sneasel laugh and KFC groan.
“Be careful,” the Combusken said. “Remember what I said before. We have to take it easy. Crushing Booker won’t accomplish anything.”
“It sure is funny, though,” Sneasel replied.
“I’ll sh-show you funny,” I mumbled. I got my arms under her hand and pushed up against her palm, calling on all my strength. My arms shook and burned with exertion, but I only managed to raise Sneasel’s hand slightly, not enough to free myself. Sneasel took pity on me and removed her hand, revealing her smirking face.
“Good effort,” she said. I just glared at her.
KFC came into view and sat down nearby. He had various small rocks in his hands and a frown on his face as he joined me in glaring at Sneasel. “Don’t do that again,” he said to her. “At least, not until Booker gets comfortable with lighter weights. It’s important to avoid—”
“Overexertion,” Sneasel said, finishing his thought. “Yeah, yeah, I know. Sorry, partner. Hope I didn’t hurt you.”
“I’m okay—this exoskeleton is pretty sturdy,” I replied. Glancing over at her hand, I added, “I’m surprised I could lift your hand even a little... I wonder how heavy that was.”
“Bug-types tend to be abnormally strong compared to most other Pokemon,” said KFC. “I’ve seen your type do some amazing feats before. Even a tiny one like you should be able to lift a good amount of weight—relative to your own body, that is. Even so, we’ll start with the lightest stone, which is half a pound, and work up from there. How much do you weigh?”
“That’s funny—I’m about half a pound too,” I replied. “I got curious about it one day, and Tooca helped me weigh myself with the kitchen scales.”
“Yeah, I remember that,” said Sneasel. “I remember you said you were, like... 300, 400 times lighter than you were as human. And I said turning into a bug was one helluva weight loss program.”
I smiled at the memory as KFC lined up his little rocks between the three of us. They were all around a third of my size, but they had different symbols painted on them, denoting their weight. Judging by the varying textures and colors of each rock, I presumed they were made of different types of stone, explaining how their weights could vary despite being the same size.
I looked at the half-pound one, wondering how best to lift it. “So, uh... is there a technique to it?” I asked.
“There is,” said KFC. “Currently, we don’t have any lifting stones for Pokemon of my size, so I can’t demonstrate the technique. But I can summarize it. First, put the stone between your feet. Crouch and bend over, and hold your arms straight down. Get your hands under the stone, then lift it up. As you lift, lean back a bit, while staying in a crouch. Now you’ll be squatting and keeping the stone on your lap. You can stay in this position for a bit without too much effort, so take the chance to adjust your grip if you need to. Then stand upright, lifting the stone more and keeping it to your chest. You’ll have to lean back a little bit. After this, you’ll basically shove it forward into its final position, either on top of a platform or over an obstacle. I think we can use my hand for the platform here. Sneasel can take my place in the future if I’m not available. Got all that?”
I blinked. “Um... can you run that by me a f-few more times?”
“Just give it a try,” said Sneasel. “I’ve done this before, so I can give you pointers.”
“And I’ll help you lift it the first few times so you can get the form down,” said KFC. “Ready?”
“I guess,” I said. “Hope I can balance on these feet when I’m holding that stone...”
“You’ll have to get used to it. This is your body now. Getting familiar with it is a big part of what this training is about, after all. Here we go.”
I sighed and stood over the rock. I crouched down, grabbed hold of it, and began to lift it, trying to follow KFC’s instructions. He gingerly used his claws to help raise the rock and reposition me to correct my form. The process was tricky, and I felt a burn all throughout my body, especially in my arms and legs. I also felt myself wobble on my unsteady feet, and I kept twitching my wings to try and stabilize myself. However, it wasn’t quite as difficult as I’d expected, and the same excitement I felt from running flared up again, drowning out my worries. I wanted to keep going and building my strength, and I embraced that feeling and let it push me forward.
After picking up and dropping the stone a few times, my confidence grew to the point that I decided to try lifting all by myself. It was more challenging without KFC’s assistance, but I still managed. KFC held his upturned hand in front of me, making a good platform on which to deposit the stone several inches off the ground. As the process became easier, I decided to move up to the one-pound stone. Despite being twice as heavy as the last one, picking it up was still not as hard as I thought it would be, thanks to my insect anatomy: my lack of bones meant there was more room in my body for muscles, and my low weight meant I could devote more strength to lifting additional weight instead of supporting my own body.
After repeating this exercise a few times, both the burn and the motivation were still at full strength. I instinctively wiped my brow again, and said, “I could p-probably keep going. How about I try a... two-pound stone next? Is that okay?”
“Getting cocky, huh?” asked Sneasel.
“Let’s not be hasty,” said KFC.
“A-are you sure?” I asked. “I can do more. It’s okay—I don’t mind.”
“Yes, I’m sure,” said the Combusken, a hint of annoyance in his voice. “You’ve done well so far, and it’s good that you’re motivated, but you can get hurt if you push yourself too much. Besides, Lliam told me to take it easy with you, remember? Let’s take a break from lifting for now.”
“But I don’t...” I began, then fell silent. The alien voice in my head had grown frustrated at KFC’s refusal to let me continue, and it was telling me to argue the point. I nearly obeyed, but I realized it would be foolish. The Combusken was my trainer, and he was more experienced than I was, so I knew I had to listen to him.
“Sorry,” I said. “Y-you’re right. We can stop.”
KFC nodded and encouraged me to stretch again. As he guided me through the same set of moves from before, I thought about what just happened. Though I still believed that this new source of motivation was beneficial, it was also important to not get carried away. It made sense that pushing myself too far would result in harm. But what did “too far” mean? How much should I listen to these Pokemon instincts that kept pushing me onward? I didn’t know. I’d have to ask about it, but for now, finishing the workout was my priority.
* * *
After I completed this set of stretches, KFC returned the lifting stones to the weight rack, then came back and informed me about his plan for the final part of today’s physical training. He wanted me to try bodyweight exercises, such as push-ups, crunches, and other motions that used one’s own body weight as resistance. The problem was that I weighed next to nothing, so these exercises wouldn’t be effective for building my strength. Even so, KFC wanted me to try them out. He hoped it would let me study how it felt to use different muscles and move my body around. Plus, it could improve my stamina too.
Thus, he took me through a wide variety of exercises, including sit-ups, squats, lunges, and jumping jacks (which KFC called “star jumps”), to name a few. As expected, they were surprisingly easy thanks to my insect strength combined with my low weight. The biggest problem was maintaining balance during things like squats and lunges, but KFC reached out with a claw to help me steady myself if needed. As a result, I did better at these exercises than I ever did as a human. In fact, I felt oddly disappointed at how much easier they felt. Normally, I would’ve been relieved to get these exercises over with, but now I wanted more of a challenge.
Sneasel watched eagerly as I went through the exercises, sometimes goading me to do “just one more” multiple times in a row. I readily did so, and even when she didn’t encourage me, I still pushed myself of my own volition, trying to see how far I could take it. I gradually felt a burn, but it was faint and left me unsatisfied. I wanted more. I wanted to get better. But to my dismay, KFC kept cutting me off and making me swap exercises before I could get far enough to feel content.
I still agreed it was dangerous to push myself too far, but... this certainly wasn’t “too far”. I could easily do a lot more than this, right? This was annoying. Why was he making me stop before I realized my full potential? I had to do better, or else I’d disappoint myself and everyone else.
And so, I put my foot down and refused to stop my set of push-ups when KFC told me to. I continued them, aiming to keep going until my arms gave out. He suggested I stop when I got to 10, then told me to stop at 20. At 25, he repeated it more sternly. And at 30, he gave me no choice. Like Sneasel did before, he reached out and abruptly brought a heavy hand down on me, pinning me to the ground and putting an end to my streak. I grunted and tried to get free, but my squirming was useless. He waited until I gave up struggling, then lifted his hand, letting me sit up with a groan.
“That’s enough, Booker,” KFC said. “Remember what I’ve been telling you. You can hurt yourself if—”
“I’ll be fine,” I interrupted him. “I... I can keep going!”
“You can, but you shouldn’t. Not today, at least.”
Sneasel scooted over to KFC’s side. “Hate to say it, but I gotta go with KFC on this one,” she said. “You’re smarter than me, Booker, but I know more about this sorta stuff than you, so I know KFC’s right.”
“You too?” I asked. “Why? Don’t you want me to get stronger?”
“Of course I do, but—”
“Then y-you shouldn’t get in my way! I won’t accomplish anything if I quit early, right?”
“Booker—”
“I thought we were partners! Why are you holding me back? What kind of partner are you?”
“THAT’S ENOUGH!” Sneasel shouted. I flinched as her face twisted into a fierce snarl, her narrow red eyes and gleaming white fangs like those of an angry predator glaring down at me. I felt even smaller than usual with that frightening face over me.
“What’s gotten into you?” she said quietly. Her voice didn’t sound so angry now, but it was cold with disappointment and frustration. “Chill out and listen to me. I am your partner. And that means we gotta look out for each other. And that’s exactly what I’m trying to do right now. I ain’t holding you back cuz I hate you or anything. It’s the opposite. I like you, and I like that you’re making an effort to get stronger. I want you to get used to your body, and figure out some moves, and learn how to fly.”
“Th-then why are you—” I stammered.
“Lemme finish,” she said. “It’s easy to go overboard when you’re working out. KFC was right when he said ‘no pain, no gain’... but if you go too far, it’s just gonna ruin everything. Trust me. I know what I’m talking about.”
“What do you mean? Did s-something happen to you?”
Sneasel hesitated and bit her lip, perhaps realizing that she’d said more than she intended. With a sigh, she decided to answer me. “Listen. Back in the tribe, when me and the other kids were training to fight and hunt... I always wanted to push myself more and more, even after the teacher told us to stop and take breaks. There was this one time after we were done for the day... I felt like I could’ve done more, so I did some extra training all by myself. Long story short, I totally overexerted myself. I was just so excited to get stronger, I didn’t listen to my body telling me to stop—I just listened to that desire, the voice in my head, that kept saying I oughta go further.”
“The same instinct I’ve been feeling?”
“Pretty much. I thought it would be good to listen to it, but I was wrong, cuz I hurt myself. Big time. Ended up getting super sore and exhausted, and I felt terrible the next morning. It even hurt to move, so doing any kinda training was out of the question. And when I told my teacher what I did, he was real mad. He made me sit out and skip training till I recovered, and he kept telling me how stupid it is to push yourself too hard. And he was right. All my extra effort ended up being pointless, cuz I had to sit around and waste a few days recovering.”
“I’m sorry to hear that...” I murmured. “Sounds like a good lesson, though.”
“Yeah. I still remember it like it was yesterday. So, take it from me: it’s awesome to push yourself and try to be better, but you gotta know when to stop before you hurt yourself and make everything worse.”
We all fell silent, and I reflected on what just happened. It was surprising to hear Sneasel tell me that I needed to tone things down and be more careful, since she was pretty reckless herself. But if my behavior was enough to make even someone like her concerned, then I was definitely doing something wrong.
I didn’t feel much exhaustion now, and I no longer felt upset either. Instead, I mostly felt one thing: shame.
I looked up at Sneasel and KFC. “I... I’m really sorry about h-how I acted,” I said sheepishly. “I think it was because of the Pokemon instincts we talked about before. You said Pokemon are driven t-to get stronger. That must be why I feel... eager to work out now. And this is the first time I’ve exerted myself s-since becoming a Pokemon, so... I guess those instincts got the better of me, because they’re so new and unexpected. I d-didn’t think they would affect me so much, o-or so quickly... But I can’t just blame those instincts. It’s my job to manage them, and I should have been m-more careful and controlled myself better. I’m sorry.”
“Hey, don’t worry about it,” said Sneasel, reaching out to pat me on the head. “I get it. No need to make a big old apology speech. Right, KFC?”
“Right,” said the Combusken. “I know you weren’t thinking straight before, Booker, and I can tell you’re sincerely sorry about it. Actually, I should take some blame too. I underestimated how strong your drive would be. You have more determination than I thought. I may need to rethink this training to take that into consideration. We’ll have to make extra sure to train your mind to prevent blind obedience on instinct.”
“Okay then,” I said quietly. “That... sounds good. Thanks again for your help...”
“Don’t mention it. Anyway, the physical training is done for today, but we still have the meditation to get through. We’ll start on that after a quick break. In fact, I think it will be very useful for you, because it can help you control your mind and manage these instincts better. So don’t worry too much. You can get over these obstacles with enough time and effort.”
I nodded silently, but concerns were still creeping into my mind again. I was happy that Sneasel and KFC were looking out for me, but my earlier fears from the jogging session were rearing up once more. If I was starting to experience new instincts and desires, and they were able to override my usual behavior and personality like this... how big of an issue would that become? Would I be able to suppress them, or would they sabotage my dreams?
I didn’t know for sure, but I did know I’d have to be careful moving forward. I already had my worries about the training, but this added a new challenge to it—hopefully one that wouldn’t be too hard to overcome.
Next part: rentry.org/RibombeeFly6
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