A Summer Festival
Another day shines down on Capim Town. Unassuming routines from countless merchants below and above makes the quaint environment little more than a means to an end.
Unlike foreigners, most residents and regulars lack a reason to stand still and take in the sight of suspension bridges criss-crossing between different elevations. To appreciate them tangling around in the organized chaos that is the never-ending view of misshapen wooden spires. Not without fear of having the nearby lizard merchant accuse bystanders of loitering. The plazas and gardens formed at the rooftops make for spectacles of their own, filled to bursting with people and establishments ready to serve their needs. Though there’s negligible amounts of walls and railings, none of them have any fear of falling off. A few of them even leap off the rooftops without a care in the world.
…this time, however, the terraces aren’t as crowded as they should be. It’s what many would consider a slow day in terms of business. The ambient noise is mostly populated by the distant crashing of waves beyond and the pleasant sound of strings coming from a distant lute. High upon the rooftops, there’s sounds of gossip from a particularly nosy spinda conversing with a taillow in charge of one of the orb shops.
Everything is calm before the floor rumbles.
And it rumbles.
Spinda and Taillow cease their conversation as the vibrations become more noticeable.
Screams can be heard in the distance.
From an even higher rooftop, Four small creatures supremely fraught with despair unceremoniously land on top of the wooden stand and immediately leap afterwards to the floor below. This group consisting of a phanpy (torchic atop), cyndaquil and totodile sprint/waddle like hell itself is chasing after them.
The rumble now quakes the ceilings.
Once the owner and customer turn around and look up, the next second they’re gone screeching.
And the second afterwards, a titanic bipedal behemoth reduces the stand to splintering rubble with its powerful legs and a roaring crash. The yellowish dragon’s murderous red eyes open up again after gaining its bearings in an instant. With a guttural skyward roar, its large feet start hammering the rooftop, racing after its prey.
“...I’m an idiot, I’m an idiot, I’m an IDIOT!” Torchic desperately murmurs to herself, her claws nearly piercing Phanpy’s back as she holds onto him for dear life.
Phanpy swerves and skids, knocking over a barrel with the side of his body. Panting, he goes full sprint as fast as his tiny legs allow alongside Totodile and Cyndaquil. “… stop… beating yourself over this… you’re better than this…”
Ever since Team Misfits had found the Gold Ribbon laying on a clearing near the den of a sleeping haxorus, they knew they had been taken for guinea pigs. Retrieving a valuable treasure lost in a forest dungeon a stone toss away from Capim? And the murkrow mission giver had specifically asked them in private to perform this task rather than posting his note on the job board? It’s clear that people would’ve gladly offered their services in exchange for such an easy haul. More likely, savvier minds would prevail and disregard the mission as a malicious trap or scam. Asking the Misfits in private for an easy mission like this would check out given their limited competency and deceptively high success rate.
Torchic in particular had gotten out of bed with a pluckier attitude than most days—confidence was swelling after noticing that her embers had gotten warmer. There was also the fact that the pointers she had gotten from a fellow human-turned-Torchic at the guild had proven useful lately. She even thought she had slightly jogged on her talons after getting inspired by seeing a sprinting KFC from afar. Tripping afterwards, but decidedly more optimistic.
Simple, modest forest ferals would’ve been the best target practice to start honing her skills, this time without being on top of Phanpy for once.
She would’ve been right had it not been for her stray Ember accidentally hitting the sleeping Haxorus squarely in the face.
“If it… makes ya feel any BETTER…!” Totodile spits out in a hurried tone before leaping and loudly crashing two glass bottles at the floor beneath him. He resumes his waddling sprint, not looking back to see if the thundering fiend got deterred from the broken shards. “...you can now say you’ve breathed fire at a seven-foot dragon…!”
“...I don’t think… I could use my fire to light a cigarette myself…!” Cyndaquil follows up, running on all fours from behind. “...ah… I think I saw Haxy’s rump… speaking about fiery sticks—”
“Guys, I’m seriously NOT IN THE MOOD FOR THIS!” Torchic yells.
“ENOUGH!” Phanpy interrupts them. Inwardly, he wonders at himself for not having slowed down due to exhaustion. It’s enough respite for him to think through this. “This is our course of action…! Blue Claw Inn is up ahead after that bridge… we lure him down into the open area… and we engage!”
“WHAT!?”, the other three exclaim.
“ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND!?” Totodile screams, jumping over a cute sylveon and flareon couple that crossed their way. “That demon lizard’s gonna KILL US IN AN INSTANT–!”
“WE’RE BIDING OUR TIME FOR MAGNEZONE!” Phanpy bellows as they start crossing the bridge. “We lure him in… hit him with all we’ve got… and wait for help to arrive…!”
“...we are SO DEAAAAD!” Cyndaquil screams…
…right before the suspension bridge’s ropes violently snap and fly off from the weight of Haxorus’s stomps.
Everyone shrieks as they hold on to the makeshift giant swing.
In a fraction of a second, Phanpy tightly holds onto one of the wooden planks below with his trunk and throws his and Torchic’s weight to the left.
Thanks to Phanpy, they all avoid getting smashed into a wall, instead flying off several yards away into the wide street near the inn…
An unusual sight greets any traveler coming near the modest log known as the Blue Claw Inn. It’s something that the residents hope can dampen the monotony surrounding their marketplace: a newly constructed venue.
It noticeably stands out—it’s large and maybe ostentatious enough for anyone to stop by and look interested. Those are the words that the improvised carpenters and joiners alike would like to use to describe the wooden frame that makes up the decently sized stage built on the side of the building. An intricate scaffolding criss-crosses the roof above so as to make any precise adjustments to the scene. Be it lighting or surprisingly intricate mechanisms behind the green velvet curtains adorning the foreground and background. All mounted above a sizable and sturdy wooden dais. On top of it, several donations in the form of string instruments are kept on the backstage.
Why was it built? Undeniable demand. Talented performers of all walks of life had found a cozy haven in the inn for many years now—last time, patrons and hosts alike agreed that having the likes of Meloetta’s voice stoop down to their humble dwelling could hardly be seen as acceptable. It may have taken several weeks to assemble and a lot of fumbling, but no one could deny the craftsmanship of the final result.
And so it sits quietly between the buildings. Were it not for its proximity to the ocean, it would’ve been lost in the sea of towering logs.
One after the other, blurs belonging to Totodile, Cyndaquil, Torchic and Phanpy dart diagonally from the heavens with several painful crashes on the backstage. Wooden pillars tumble into themselves. Curtains fall. Scaffolding breaks.
The stirring Haxorus from far away will surely not give them time to recuperate. His trotting quakes shake the ground again as he roars… and drives his foot through the splintered mess of wood and fabric.
Phanpy emerges from between the leveled rubble along with everyone else, looking at the giant blocking the sunlight. “Guys… l-let’s…!”
It dawns on Phanpy that there truly is no easy way out of this situation. They’re hopelessly outrunned and outmatched. Even if it’s just stalling, there are no immediate plans or contingencies for a monster this vicious. Any feeble attempt at distracting him promises to be reckless at best. Since they had originally traveled light for a dungeon so close and simple to traverse, they’re low on options.
Can Torchic even attempt to burn the beast? Will any of their attacks do anything? If Phanpy tries to run away still, what will become of anyone else? Who will inevitably get hurt or worse?
He looks at the blood-lusted Haxorus dead on with a scowl in equal parts defiance and desperation. There’s a likelihood he won’t make it out of this one. But all he has to do is buy time.
He’ll charge in as fast as he can, he thinks. He’ll hopefully dodge the tusk blades and find a rhythm to the moves.
He’ll prevail. Defend. Survi—
“AAAAH, TAKE THIS!” Totodile yells as he lunges forward and flings Cyndaquil overhead towards Haxorus.
The screaming fire-type soars the air haplessly like a ragdoll until he miraculously lands on the blunt side of Haxorus’s swinging razor-sharp tusks.
The dragon cries out to the sky with a soul-rending screech. Itthrows his head around wildly as Cyndaquil hangs on like a tick on the side of its neck.
Phanpy tackles Torchic to the ground, both avoiding the massive spinning tail.
The roars grow weaker.
Haxorus’s thrashing crawls down to a halt.
From afar, one can see Cyndaquil saying something unintelligible to the beast on its ear—The look on Haxorus’s feral face is easily one of deeply appalled confusion.
Calmly, Haxorus suddenly clutches Cyndaquil’s back with his claw, making the latter squeak. The fire-type is thrown away.
“I… I don’t… I mean…” Haxorus's unexpectedly soft voice speaks up for the first time to no one in particular. “Y-You know what, I’m done. I’m just done. I’m never coming back. Sort out your issues, I don’t want to be a part of them. Goodbye.”
Without making a fuss, Haxorus spins around and walks away. Never to be seen again.
…
“HEHEH! You weirdo, you actually SAVED US!” Totodile celebrates as he bounds into the air before running towards Cyndaquil.
“YES I DID!” Cyndaquil responds, standing up and meeting with Totodile in a mutually energetic high-five.
“...inform me in advance, will you?”, a bruised Phanpy grumbles. “You could’ve gotten skewered.”
“Awwww, lighten up, you grumpy baby elephant!” Totodile says in joy as he covers Phanpy’s back with his arm. The latter is unstirred by the display of camaraderie.
A second later, however, Phanpy can’t help but smile at the fact that they were still somehow not dismembered. “That did go much better than expected. All’s well that ends well, I—
…suppose.”
The leader of the Misfits nearly stops himself short as he turns around and witnesses the effects of Haxorus’s advance beyond the crumbled stage. Incomplete stone staircases partially turned into rubble. Giant chunks of earth missing in lieu of footprints. Gardens left into disarrays of matted flowers and foliage. Not to mention the clear path of destruction visible from beyond the broken bridge, with many residents curiously (and angrily) poking their heads out to find the source of the chaos. To find the source of many a leveled shop laying on the rooftops.
The view of the ruination done to Capim is blocked by the back of a lonesome torchic.
Torchic falls down to the ground with her head down.
“Torchic,” Phanpy calls out, keeping his tone firm. “The murkrow who put us in this situation? He knew damn well that he was using us to test the waters before calling in a more competent team. We were headed on a suicide mission from the get-go. You can’t just shoulder all responsibility just because you made a mistake—”
“Spare me,” Torchic’s voice interrupts, not looking back. “I was the one who shot the Ember. You know I never try to seriously use my fire independently from you. Look where that got us. I don’t think I’ve ever screwed something up to this degree.”
Torchic gasps as she feels a limb hold and surround her head.
It was Totodile.
His head leans on hers. In a surprisingly sobering tone, he speaks low:
“Listen, girl. You’ve been stuck with us long enough to know that we’re all a buncha screw-ups. A buncha goofs that could never get anything done. But look where that got us. Through thick and thin, we got the job done no matter how hard we tripped. Who else would’ve done stuff like goin' against a coffin poltergeist guy in the middle of a desert temple and live to tell it?”
Seeing Torchic stay silent, he continues:
“Heheh… you think I would’ve stayed this long if I’d gone up and died to not drink another day? I tried goin’ nowhere before and it didn’t work out that well. You fail big time once and you swim through the current. With someone as sober as you, I’m bettin' on both of us to be good swimmers. Got it?”
Torchic’s grasp on her frown loosens ever-so-slightly. For once, she doesn’t feel like retorting to something Totodile said. She looks to her side, still unsure of herself but vaguely hinting at a smile:
“Let’s go with that, I guess.”
“ALRIGHT, GROUP HUG!”
The water-type quickly grabs a hold of the blue elephant beside him, beckoning Cyndaquil to come to them. Phanpy can’t help but to also smile reluctantly.
“You’re officially a screw-up like us, Torchic!” Totodile announces. “AND THAT’S FINE!”
“ZZZT. Is it now?”
All four turn their heads to the hollow metallic voice that spoke from afar. His floating, ominous frame is unmistakable to anyone living within the region’s settlements. Between the two horseshoe magnets and eyes on the sides of its steel body, a giant scarlet eye that is yet to blink adorns it. Though it’s hard to tell if the glowing pupil is affixed to Phanpy or Torchic, they turn both equally tiny with its stare. Magnezone, flanked by smaller magnemites, hovers imposingly above the rubble and towards the team, continuing in his vexed tone:
“I had expected your ilk to be behind this mess as is always the case ZZZT. However, I never would have wanted to see Torchic manage to incite this much chaos.”
“Officer Magnezone,” Phanpy dares to retort, stepping forward. “We deeply apologize but I don’t believe you have our full account…”
“Do you honestly believe you and your companions are in a position to be given the benefit of the doubt?” Magnezone cuts in unrelenting. “This is not the first and certainly not the last time the Clover Guild is responsible for disturbing order ZZZT! Have you any idea of how taxing that stage was to make and what it meant to the locals? You’ve been reasonable so far, mister Phanpy, but you take us for fools if you don’t think our patience has limits!”
“Damn right you are!” an angry crabrawler coming out of the inn raises his voice, looking positively furious upon seeing the rubble spread all around him. “Those lowlives have made a mess of the bar, burned down Apple Woods and now destroyed our stage! I say we evict that Lliam and his group out of town already!”
Unable to answer, Phanpy briefly looks at his teammates and tries to find reprieve where there is not. Cyndaquil looks meeker than ever in the presence of Magnezone. Totodile puts his hand on his neck, looking like he’d rather be elsewhere. To call Torchic miserable would be to undersell it.
The growing number of incensed onlookers start joining in, murmuring amongst themselves…
From an unassuming, ground level vantage point, he observes the scene unfolding before him. And so he decides to act by stepping in, shy before the angry mob:
“...those Misfits are not the only ones causing trouble…!”
“...that oven-annihilating Beast is part of their sorry bunch…!”
“...I can’t believe how many times that smeargle’s been told of the mess he makes wherever he goes…!”
“...what did I even do to have that chespin call me names behind my back…?”
“...no one’s going to mention the shady keokeo and his company…?”
“...their meowth is a crook! To think I ever gave him money…!”
“...hey…”
“...barely anyone could stand that loudmouth umbreon! Good thing he’s gone, right…?”
"...’Blaziken Tribe sleeper cell’?! No way we're letting those savages run riot here…!”
“...Sneasel is a feral I tell you! How can anyone even accept her…”
“...hey…!”
"...I'm pretty sure I've seen that togetic on a wanted poster before…!"
“...the duskull is yet to follow through on the payment plan for the Deluxe Hyper Parfait Triple Chocolate & Caramel Combo Plus + I gave to him…!”
“HEY!”
The murmurs stop as tens of pairs of eyes, Misfits and Magnezone included, direct their attention to the source of the yell.
That being a lone orange canine that’s been looking a bit more unkempt than usual lately. Immediately, Bill feels the unbearable regret of being the center of attention in this scenario. The growlithe exhales before sitting down, trying to calm himself and not let his fight-or-flight to trigger.
“Officer… Magnezone?” Bill directs himself to the giant metal husk, if a bit unassertive. “I want you to hear me out for a moment.”
“I apologize for the harshness, but I also do not think you’re in the best position to opine, guildmember.”
Bill does the best he can to shake off the sting of guilt from the past washing over him. Glancing at the deeply despondent Torchic, however, strengthens his resolve.
“Perhaps you’re unaware. For a while I’ve been acting as a… uh… I am a ‘life counselor’ in Capim.”
“ZZZT? A what?”
“I… examine the behavior and mindset of people with interpersonal issues with a critical eye. What I do is help them overcome them. Basically, I like to think I have practical insight about pokemon and their ways of thinking. For the record, people outside of the guild can attest to what I do and maybe… say that I’ve been of use?”
Magnezone’s giant red eye audibly shifts with a whirr to the audience of passersby. Three of them slowly raise two hands and a wing, respectively. One of the peacekeeping magnemites shyly raises one of its magnets as well.
“Your point?” Magnezone asks as his eye travels back again to Bill.
“My point being that the pokemon you find in the guild are not so different from the Capim residents. You might disagree, and as someone who can attest to the everyday madness going on in there, I’d definitely understand. But circumstances, luck or social shortcomings aside, I’ve come to the conclusion that the average psychological… uh, mental makeup of our ‘human’ guild is perfectly comparable with anyone else living here.”
Bill decides to walk over near the Misfits.
“I’m not going to brush all of your complaints aside either. If there is a way that the guild can repay their debt somehow, then we should do it. As I heard from Totodile… I believe we may be the ones to turn our luck around and make up for whatever problems we’ve caused so far.”
Now stepping decidedly towards Magnezone, the growlithe finishes:
“You didn’t expect Torchic to be the one behind this, right? What do you think that tells you about her character? What do you think that myself, the one who’s been seeing her regularly, can tell you? This Torchic is sharp and level-headed. Gloomy, but gets done what she feels is within her grasp. Not malicious, but kind. Our guild is full of members like her and we’re doing a disservice trying to not give them a second chance. They deserve at least that much.”
Torchic’s beady and watery eyes have grown and gone from sorrowful to a particular kind of flustered.
The crowd reacts with a mixture of harrumphing and awkward silence. As if to somehow mimic them, Magnezone’s eyelid makes an appearance expressing skepticism and fleeting disinterest.
“Commendable speech for your coworker, I’m sure,” Magnezone comments, lacing his remark with irony. “It’s easy to speak platitudes about repaying debts or making up for your mistakes. Our actual situation here is that our stage was destroyed, several performers were expected to use it and now it’s all been reduced to wreckage ZZZT. There is no time or resources to recoup for the losses in the following weeks. Any answers on how you are all supposed to proceed? Or are we otherwise supposed to seriously reassess the legitimacy of the Clover Guild with the Federation? ZZZT”
…
“We’ll do the entertainment ourselves!” says a new voice from above.
A red growlithe with a silver mane, deftly drops down from one of the rooftops into the ground with a thump.
“The human guild is nothing if not entertaining, right?” Gill continues to speak up. “How about we recoup those losses by building our festival stands? We could include any performers that that stage was supposed to host. It’ll be a fresh thing, the town would manage any entrance fees and we would work together with anyone who wants to be with us. Is that a thing we could do, Phanpy?”
“...with our funds it’s surprisingly feasible,” Phanpy answers hesitantly. “But I’m not sure if we could handle the logist– I-I mean…”
Phanpy quickly catches on that they’re short on time and ideas to plan anything other than to pay an even heftier sum of money for the stage and risk having the Clover Guild discredited to the point of eviction. Plus, the guild’s reputation and goodwill couldn’t be more damaged than it already is. A chance to increase it is not as bad as it sounds…
“Sounds like a cool thing maybe? Would it be like one of those anime festivals?!” Cyndaquil says.
“Huh… that sounds fun!” Totodile adds. “Who wouldn’t like a big party full of activities around here?!”
Shockingly, the murmurs of the crowd appear to be somewhat receptive to the idea. Politoed comes from out of the bunch towards Magnezone with his lute in hand:
“Let me tell you, Officer, this growlithe kid might know what he’s talking about! I’ve seen him put on a small show with his voice alone firsthand before. With some rehearsal and help from others like myself, we’d have something special going. And finding out what else the human guild will have in mind doesn’t sound half bad in the slightest!”
Magnezone stares down Gill, looking far from convinced:
“Can you vouch for Politoed?”
“Well, people liked it last time…”
“What about logistics?”
“We have a good business relationship with Delibird Deliveries!”
“Management? Organization? I can’t imagine a single layabout in there—”
“You know our ribombee? He’s decent enough, isn’t he?”
In a long five seconds, Gill stares back at him.
The steel husk floats away from the scene with his magnemites, seemingly satisfied with Gill’s answers. Though not before directing himself to the present guildmembers:
“I will inform and discuss the matter with your guildmaster later on during the day. Prime him on the situation now or after I talk to him… however you wish ZZZT. In any case, you better not disappoint or else—this town and our peacekeepers are not in the mood to tolerate any more of your shenanigans.
I’ll keep my expectations high.”
…
With him gone, the rest of the multitude slowly disperses.
Phanpy sighs heavily to the Misfits and the growlithe twins. “I get the feeling that this idea will be right up Lliam’s alley. We do have excess money to burn, so we might as well spend it trying to not get condemned. There’s a ton of work in our hands and we haven’t even asked Booker if he could help us…”
“So long as we do it together, you can stop sounding as tense as you always are,” Torchic says more confidently. “I’m done moping for now, we need to start working on it.”
“Heyyyy, GROUP HUG AGAIN!” Totodile screams as he pulls his teammates in close one more time.
“HEYYY!” Cyndaquil responds cheerfully. “...I did do my good deed of the month already by defeating that dragon, right?”
“...don’t make it sound more dignified than it was.” Phanpy breathes out.
“...hey Billy…?” Gill says.
The growlithe goes away, as dispirited as he looked before he decided to step in. He pays no mind to his name being called out.
“...Bill!”
…until he stops at the sound of another voice. He looks back to see Torchic stepping closer to him.
Her uneasy talons do not allow her to move as quickly as she would like. She nearly trips, causing her to tremble.
Meeting Bill's eyes, her beak opens up:
“Thanks.”
The growlithe keeps looking back for a moment, his expression plagued by doubt
“You’re… welcome,” Bill answers in a tone he considers polite before leaving for good.
…
Gill is left alone with the Misfits.
“He’s been like this for a while,” Gill informs in a somber tone. “He’ll get better, I’m sure of it.”
A musing Torchic keeps looking at the turn where Bill went to.
For a few seconds, there is an awkward silence as the remaining four are left to their own devices, surrounded by the broken wooden scaffolding. The crowd had long since disappeared.
“Aaaaanyway!” Totodile says with a grin, suspiciously keeping his hands behind his back. “After all that’s happened, I think we can be sure that our murkrow client’s gonna jet it in order to avoid responsibility. Which means that the treasure we found…”
He puts one of his hands in front of him, revealing an impossibly shiny, neatly tied piece of gold fabric. Parts of it glimmer with the metallic sheen of intricate ornaments adorned on it. “...is ours to keep? Right?”
Four pairs of eyes look at it entranced by the Gold Ribbon's beauty.
Perhaps it is a good omen? Phanpy scoffs. “Perhaps our summer festival won’t go so badly. I hope.”