Children Playing and Fighters Yearning

The Small Pond was inherently a peaceful place; a large clearing surrounded by a crowd of tall trees, providing ample shade for all visitors. Daylight leaked through the foliage above them, sprinkling sunlight onto the crystal clear pond in the middle of the clearing. A gaggle of baby and basic Pokemon littered the glade, playing in the water and grass abound, their shrieking laughter and giggles bringing cheer to their spectators; parents, grandparents, explorers and officers watching from the shadier portions of the open area. Denizens of Grassveil loved the hotspot, as it was the perfect place to bring their young ones to spend the day.

It was warm. The Small Pond was always a cheering, innocent scene. Picturesque, even.

This is what I coulda had. Instead of training. In the backdrop, behind a few trees almost hidden from sight, there crouched a Croagunk low to the ground. His eyes were crinkled wistfully, a harrowing little smile playing at his lips. Goro rested his elbow on his knee as he crouched, and his chin on his elbow. His poison sacs inflated for a moment, making a quiet croaking sound that went largely unheard amidst the laughter of younger Pokemon a few yards away. I'd a been softer, but maybe happier. Smarter, hopefully.

The trees began to part and the shrubbery began to disappear as another Pokémon began to approach the area that contained the Pond, which bordered the town of Grassveil. Grassveil was the young Buizel's destination, naturally. He preferred to pass through the Pond on his way in, though. He always preferred to take in the sights and sounds of the innocent Pokémon and their subsequent laughter and pure joy as he made his way back to town. It would always distract him from the day's failed exploration. And today was no different. Well, at least this time he wasn't letting any clients down. This had been a solo exploration for his own purposes.

'I-I suppose I should have expected it to end that way...' Jet murmured to himself in his mind as he wandered almost absentmindedly toward the Pond. The only successful ventures he'd ever had was when he was going out with a friend, or just so happened to meet somebody out there. Unfortunately, his friends hadn't returned since disappearing from town. Neither Lee nor Avery had shown themselves again. He had given up waiting for his old teammates' return long ago, and had started striving to preserve his team by himself...to very little success. Without a doubt, he needed another teammate; but he had no idea who to turn to or where to look. He didn't dare ask somebody to be his teammate; who would want to be on a team with a weakling like him? Somebody who couldn't even explore the Coral Forests, a place where he should have had a very solid advantage due to his body structure and experience, but still ended up getting defeated by the Pokémon living there.

'I-I shouldn't have tried to go for that last berry down there' he thought to himself as he stared at the ground, letting his feet do the walking for him for now. 'All of the signs were there; I should have known that it was a trap. And I walked right into it. If only I had stopped to think about what I had been doing. Maybe I would have been able to actually...' and his thoughts continued being thrown around his mind in a similar fashion as he walked. Unknown to the Buizel, he was steadily approaching a Croagunk that sat crouched right in his path, looking the opposite direction toward the Pond. He was so deep in his thoughts and self-pity that he didn't even seem to hear the soft croaking sounds that he would normally hear.

If the Croagunk didn't realize he was coming or move, Jet wasn't going to stop either. The Buizel was likely to actually physically collide with the frog Pokémon.

Goro shook himself out of pitying thoughts, instead taking in the sight in front of him. He reflected on the sight; older Pokemon taking their younger ones by hand and playing with them, younger ones roughhousing with their friends, the ever-growing group in the Pond, basic and grown Pokemon alike enjoying the sunlight and cool water. It was a nice sight, but a little to crowded for him. He much preferred the shack he had restored in the Marsh. Isolated in a far-off corner of the dungeon, he'd spent a good amount of time beating the snot of wild Pokemon in a crude attempt to establish the territory as his. He didn't know how wild Pokemon did it, but it seemed to have worked well enough. Every so often, there was a bold one that thought his space was theirs; but other than that he was on his own there.

A significant contrast to the sight before him. Already he was nervous and wary, uncharitable thoughts running rampant in his head-- What if someone recognizes me? I could get reported-- but at the same time, felt a degree of shame. How different was his old life than say, one of an Explorer? They fought Pokemon like he did. They didn't fight officers or explorers, of course, almost exclusively ferals and outlaws, but the principal was the same. Some of the younger Pokemon in the pond he could recognize as Explorers, trudging out of the Guild while he was in town.

But they weren't nervous at all. Not wary of strangers, not too conscious of their personal space. For all intents and purposes, they were just... normal. He heard the sound of rustling grass somewhere around him but was too focused on his moral dilemma to really recognize it. What did they do to help? How did they still manage to connect with strangers when it was likely that they could be sent after them the next time they went to a job? Or their-- their family, their friends.

The Croagunk's head perked up a moment later, actually recognizing the meaningful sound of shuffling legs... alarmingly close behind him. He rose to stand, turning awkwardly and recognized some sort of another Pokemon not a few paces away from him.

He froze in alarm and anxiety- a quiet voice in his head sounding suspiciously like his father-- Move, dull-wit! -- and before he knew it, the other Pokemon was upon him, colliding with him clumsily. Goro tumbled to the ground roughly, landing on his back and staring up at the forestry in dumb surprise.

Jet continued to mindlessly approach the Croagunk, not paying attention to his surroundings save to make sure he wasn't walking into any nearby trees, which was something ascertained by the shadows upon the ground around him. As a result, he didn't realize that Goro was still in his path until it was much too late. He felt himself collide with something he hadn't expected to be there. His eyes widened with surprise and his gaze shot upward as he tumbled forward, finally seeing the obstruction in the middle of his path. As he fell, he instinctively let out a soft cry of shock and panic, lifting his arms in a desperate attempt to stop himself. Unfortunately, he hadn't reacted quickly enough and soon found himself collapsed on the ground, eyes shut tight as he hit the dirt, letting out an involuntary "Oomph...!"

However, when he finally opened his eyes, he realized that it wasn't the ground he had fallen on top of. Well...he had partially hit the ground. However, his upper body had actually fallen forward and landed on top of the Pokémon in his path. His jaw had actually landed squarely in the center of the Croagunk's midsection, arms spread out at his sides, around the level of Goro's waist. When he finally realized the position that he was in, his face gained a slight reddish hue and he tried to push himself off of him. "Ah...!" he exclaimed. "I-I'm so sorry! I-I wasn't paying attention a-and I should've been! I-I'm sorry...!" As he practically shouted his apologies, he scrambled to get off of the other Pokémon as quickly as he could, though it took him a few seconds to manage it.

The Buizel quickly rose back to his feet and looked down at the Pokémon he'd so rudely run over. "I-I don't know what I was-" he continued, but paused when he finally got a good lookHe quickly identified the other Pokémon as a Croagunk; a Pokémon he had seen many times before in his life. For a moment, he just stood there, mouth agape in shock, simply staring at the Croagunk on the ground, as if transfixed by him. But after a few seconds, he shook his head. 'N-no, no, th-that's not him....' he thought to himself. Then, if Goro hadn't done something himself, he would quickly try to hold out his paw, offering to help the Croagunk back to his feet.

Goro was dimly aware of his attacker sprawled out somewhere around on his stomach-- he could feel the weight on his midriff and legs, the texture of warm fur, and he could even pick up the strong scent of saltwater, entirely out of place in the Small Pond-- but it just didn't occur to him to do anything about it. After the shock and pain dulled from the back of his head, he realized the grass felt strangely nice on his leathery frogskin. The forestry above him was a pretty myriad of earthy brown trees and healthy green leaves, the springtime weather of Grassveil washing over him pleasantly, and if he closed his right eye and tilted his head a certain angle, the sunlight trickling down on his face wasn't even all that irritating.

Oh, who am I kiddin'. Scowling fiercely to himself, Goro pulled himself up slightly and rested backward on his elbows, still lying down. With an irritated expression, he took in the Pokemon in front of him, actually getting a glance at it this time around. A mix of orangeish, peach colored fur with a tan muzzle and underbelly, the Pokemon was a sort of weasel-otter thing, sporting a ring around his neck and fins on his forepaws. I think I know this one. Weezil, gweebil... Kneazle? Sneasel, maybe.

Goro took a curious glance at where he was lying. He was a pace or two away from where he remembered watching the baby Pokemon play, still out of sight of the bulk of the crowd here. The Pokemon that tackled him -- Water-type, with those fins-- had started babbling incessantly, sounding quite worried, but Goro was suddenly much more interested in going home. And never going out again.

Then he took another glance up and found a paw thrust in front of him. Mechanically, Goro's fist took the paw offered and he pulled himself up, absently brushing the dirt off his legs. "Thanks," he muttered dryly.

Jet observed the Croagunk's face closely as he tried to help the Pokémon to his feet. He gulped silently when he saw that scowl and look of irritation that was plain all over his face. He hoped that this Pokémon wasn't the type to hit him because of this. Oh, how could he have let himself be so distracted? Now he was likely to get himself punished for his inability to watch where he was going. As such, when Goro suddenly raised his own arm, he instinctively flinched...but paused when he realized that he was merely accepting his help, quickly rising back to his own too feet again. And to top it all off...he was thanking him? Obviously, it wasn't a sincere expression, judging by his tone, but he himself was grateful for it all the same.

“U-um...th-there's no need to thank me,” Jet mumbled, perhaps unnecessarily. “I-I'm the one who messed up and ran you over. S-so, um...I-I'm really sorry,” As though to emphasize his feelings, he lowered his body, bowing slightly in an apologetic manner. “I-I was just preoccupied with my outing. I-I was fighting out in the ocean, and I made some serious mistakes. I-I was too busy thinking about what I did wrong that I wasn't watching where I was going.” He then paused, considering whether or not to keep talking. It was entirely possible that the Croagunk didn't care, considering he hadn't asked. As such, he decided to wait in silence and observe him, to see if there was any interest in what he had been talking about.

If not—or heck, maybe even if he did—perhaps he could do something to make it up to him...? He did still seem a bit irritated...

The gloomy poison-type largely ignored the Buizel at his side, instead gazing across the crowd of the Small Pond, hoping that no-one had noticed what just happened. For the most part, they kept to themselves and their fun, but there were a few friendly-looking Pokemon with curious eyes gazing over. Not many of them seemed to mind their physical excursion; probably mistook at as some roughhousing between friends, like the rest of the kids here. Still, Goro sneered at the onlookers they had, startling a few older Pokemon and one baby one into minding their own business. The last thing he needed was a bunch of old geezers or little snots bustling over trying to insert themselves in his life-- like this one here.

Goro turned back to his assailant, catching something in his continuous chatting. "You're a fighter?" He was a-- he was a water-type, wasn't he? With those fins and whatever that thing on his neck was, he had to be. But most baby water-types were weak and slow, in his experience. They could take more than a few hits and spray water kinda hard, but that was no policy for fighting. Appraisingly, Goro gave the Pokemon at his side a much longer look, this one much more considering than the glances before.

He could believe it if Jet actually said yes; he had marks of a fight all over him. Sure, he looked exhausted from a maybe a hard days work or training, and he seemed healthy and fit, but there was something more. A certain way he carried himself, aware of himself and what he was capable of-- and what he wasn't. Might have some tricks. Not to sure of hisself, but I get the feelin' he's been aroun' the pond a few times.

Jet watched the Poison Pokémon look out toward the Pond again, clearly ignoring everything he had to say. 'W-well, I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. It's not like he has a real reason to or anything...' he mumbled to himself in his mind. He let out a small, almost-inaudible sigh. So it was just more of the usual, it seemed. He had hoped that this Pokémon would be a little bit like his old teammate, but it was just wishful thinking on his part. Besides, it wasn't fair of him to expect this Croagunk to be like another just because they were the same species. He was a huge departure from the other Buizel where he had grown up, after all.

However, while watching the Croagunk for a moment, he quickly realized something; this Croagunk was actually giving bad looks to the nearby Pokémon whose attention they had started to draw. He certainly wasn't comfortable with just letting him do that. What kind of person would just go around scaring kids like that for no reason...? He wanted to say something, so he opened his mouth...but was stopped before the first words could even form in his throat.

"...Huh?" Jet murmured aloud when Goro asked him about being a fighter. "Erm. Wh-who...m-me...?" He paused for a moment, his own assertion lost in Goro's. "U-um...w-well, I-I suppose so, in a manner of speaking.... I-I mean...I-I did start fighting when I first came to Grassveil. I-I came here to toughen myself up in the first place, th-though I don't think I've made much progress, despite all of my time here." His blush renewed itself upon his face as embarrassment filled him. He quickly looked away. "I-I want to be strong, that's all. I was...tired of people walking all over me and other people like me, so I...I wanted to do something about it. H-heh." But then he paused again when another possibility entered his head. "Wh-why?" He then looked back over at Goro once more. "Do...do you want to fight with me or something...?"

It was a rather innocent question. He wasn't sure if the Croagunk was interested, honestly. There was no way he could stand up to another fighter on his own. He couldn't even hold his own against feral Pokémon....

For a moment, Goro mused over the possibility. He himself was in very decent shape; he trained regularly, and while he hadn't had a real fight in a while, there was no way he was rusty quite yet. He got pretty good exercise wailing on wild Pokemon around his shack in the Marsh, after all. And he'd seen other Buizel in Grassveil, mostly explorers, and as a species, they seemed good at fighting. Kinda weird for basic water-types but Jet was fortunate that way, he supposed. He'd never seen them in action before, but they were Explorers and that definitely counted for something.

"Naw, I ain't that mad at ya. Ya oughta watch where yer walkin' but... no harm, no foul, I 'spose." There wasn't any shame in losing to some wild Pokemon, Goro knew, but from his demeanor and the way he spoke about himself, Goro got the impression that Jet was losing to some seriously weak Pokemon. He was all for a bloody brawl, once in a while, but there's no fun in beating on Pokemon who can't properly defend themselves. Well... maybe a little fun, but Goro wasn't so far gone as to go around doing that sort of thing. "No, I was just askin' cus' I'm one. An' I've seen a few of yer kind around here-- you Sneasels, comin' in an' out of that Guild back in town. Figured you were the same-- tryna get strong to be an Explorer, yeah?"

Jet smiled slightly, letting out a sigh of relief that he hadn't realized he had even been holding. "Th-that's good," he replied. "You look pretty big and strong, so...I think I would have a pretty rough time against you, even if I did have time to observe your moves and formulate some strategies before-hand. But, um...y-yes, I-I really am sorry about that. I-I'll definitely remember that next time I go out." He looked back at the Croagunk again, looking at him carefully and taking in everything; his words, his demeanor and even the way he carried himself. He didn't...seem like such a bad guy. Perhaps his first impression of him wasn't entirely reliable...?

Goro continued to speak, and Jet shut his mouth, almost like an obedient servant who knew better, and tilted his head slightly in confusion. 'D...did he just call me what I think he did...?' he thought to himself. 'Well, nevermind that for now. I-I suppose I should just answer his question before I annoy him further.' With that, he turned his attention away from Goro and reached around himself. "Um...w-well, actually, sir...I-I, um...I am, technically...already an Explorer." With that, he produced the proof of his words: his official Team Mizuchi Explorer's Badge and held it out. "S-see...? I mean...it's the lowest rank, which isn't surprising, but...um...y-yeah, I-I'm sure you get the point."

He paused for a moment. "O-oh, um...a-and by the way, I-I'm, er...n-not a Sneasel. M-my species is actually called a Buizel." he commented, wanting to slide that correction in there at the end. "Sneasel are a combination of the Dark and Ice type. I-I would really stand no chance against you if I were a Sneasel. Your Fighting-type attacks would take me down in no time. Heheh..." He let out a slight nervous chuckle, hoping to diffuse any remaining tension that might still be lingering in the air.

...Hopefully, he wasn't just digging himself into a deeper pit.

Oh. He's already one o' them Explorers, then. If this thing was a Buizel, instead, then Goro really didn't know what a Sneasel actually was. Jet did, though, talking about type advantages and whatnot, but the Croagunk's focus wasn't really on that part of the conversation. Strangely, the Buizel was all by his lonesome, and the way he was talking about his trip earlier made it sound like he was all alone, which was unlike any sort of Rescue Team he'd ever seen. To his knowledge, Rescue Teams always operated in at least groups of two, but he'd seen a lot more of them as teams of three members. Considering that their work was mostly composed of search and rescue missions, item retrieval, battling outlaws, and things of that nature, it really was rash to take those kinds of jobs without partners. Either he was he's very brave, or very foolish. Or he's got somthin' ta prove. "Ya ain't gotta call me sir or nothin'. I was a grunt, jus' like you, not too long ago. Now I'm just out-o'-work."

"Did yer teammates split off after yer job, then? Back to the Guild, yeah?" The way the Buizel acted reminded him of a whipped puppy, his eyes downcast often and shutting up at even the slightest suggestion that Goro might talk or take offense at his words. He could just have serious confidence issues, but it was possible that he was trained that way, probably by his teammates. Or a superior at the Guild-- whoever trained their recruits. Which was surprising, in and of itself, because he'd never met an ill-spirited Explorer, certainly not one cruel enough to train someone else that way. He'd met his own share of bad Pokemon of course but in a place like Grassveil, where officers were aplenty and many of the Guild's own members were avid good citizens, who made it a point to correct wrongs like that? Mighta been one o' my kind who did it. Or maybe just picked on 'em real bad, poor kid's a nervous wreck. He was pretty spooked when he got a good look a' me.

Jet's gaze stayed low toward the ground, not seeming to want to look Goro in the eyes for long. His vision was still full of the greens of the grass and browns of the tree bark...though he could make out the tell-tale blue and black of the Pokémon beside him. He considered making a comment about how he called everybody "sir" around here, but...he decided against it. It probably wasn't something that the Croagunk needed nor wanted to know right now. Whoever this Croagunk was, he certainly wasn't very well-educated. His grammar was atrocious, and at rare points he would have to pause and think about it in order to discern what he was even saying. Of course, he had no plans on relaying this information over to the other Pokémon....

However, at the mention of is teammates, he reacted. His eyes widened slightly, shoulders slumped a bit more and his eyes fell further than they had in this entire conversation so far. "...No," he said quietly, his left paw instinctively moving to rub his right arm; a clear sign of discomfort. "They're, um...n-not at the Guild." And that was all he said. He could tell Goro what had happened, but...would the Croagunk even be interested? No, of course not. He was just an insignificant little stranger of a Buizel to him. He had no reason to care, nor should he try to give him one. There was no need to burden him with his problems.

Goro paused for several long moments, digesting this information. He ain't like me, then. His teammates are somewhere... just not helpin' him on his jobs. Thas' real bad 'fer a commercial fighter. I never worked by m'self like he's tryin'. And it was true; Goro had the training and the experience, but he'd never fought battles by himself. Duels, and spars, sure, and recently he'd had to establish territory where he hung his hat, but Goro never took a job by himself. Other mercenary companies were sometimes hired alongside him and his parents, and even if they weren't, he had his Ma and Pa by him for a long time, fighting beside him. You needed another Pokemon at your back, to see things you couldn't see, and fight Pokemon you couldn't fight. Individual fighters had too many weaknesses to employ in their own right, and unless they were fully evolved and experienced Pokemon, people generally didn't bother. That's why the Explorer Teams were so popular in their own right; Pokemon of all kinds flocked to them, and they could put together some crack teams. But he's headin' out by hisself. No wonder the guy's gettin' smacked aroun' out there.

"Yer not gonna get nowhere fightin' by yerself, ya know." Goro's tone of voice was entirely casual, as if talking about the weather. He'd folded his arms across his chest and relaxed, but his head was down and his eyes were studying the grass at his feet intensely. Could Goro have ended up like him? His parents were cold and unfeeling, shaped by combat all their lives, their gazes expectant and uncompromising. But they taught him, and taught him well. How to fight, where to look for work, even if it was the unreputable kind. I didn' have it so bad. Coulda' been like him. Fightin' by ma'self. But he had folk to guide him-- it looked like Jet didn't have anyone like that. Especially now, when he needed it most. "Ya can train all ya want, get real strong by yerself, but we're Pokemon and we got weaknesses we can't fix, ya know? It ain't my place ta judge, but it sounds like yer teammates ain't aroun' when ya need 'em."

Jet maintained his downward gaze, not lifting it up, even as Goro began to speak once more. He listened carefully to each and every word that the Croagunk had to say, taking in and digesting everything. He desperately searched for anything he could cling to...some words that could renew his confidence. Something that could help him hold out. But...in the end, he got none of that. Once again, it dawned on him how foolish it was to expect otherwise. This Pokémon didn't know him, therefore he had no reason to expect personalized, extremely helpful advice. Still, he certainly appreciated what the Croagunk was saying. But unfortunately for Jet, these were things that he had already come to terms with a while ago. Such advice was not going to help him in his current situation.

"...I know," he murmured in response, glancing at Goro once more. He could see that even the Croagunk had taken to studying the foliage, indicating that there was clearly something on his mind right now. Jet wished he could say something, but he could think of nothing to say but what held relevance to himself. "I know I have weaknesses. I-I have a lot of weaknesses, actually. And I know them well; th-they've been thrown into my face more times than I can count. But still, I...I have to keep going. I-I have to keep trying. For the sake of my friends, I...I have to keep fighting. Maintain the team as they remember it. At this point, I...don't know if they'll ever return. But still, on the off chance that they do...." He then looked toward Goro again, finally raising his gaze again. "I-I just...want to give them someplace familiar to come back to. And so, I'll preserve Team Mizuchi, the team founded by my best friend. And I want to keep it just as he remembers it."

"I don' know why I'm sayin' this, but... they don't sound like they're real good friends. I ain't ever had a best friend, but I know how ta fight with someone and I think it works the same way. A two-way street, ya know? You watch their backs, they watch yours, and that way both of yer weaknesses are covered." Goro side-eyed the Buizel at his side, aware that he was being studied. The resolution behind his gaze was impressive and earnest, but terribly misguided. A Rescue Team of one wasn't going to go anywhere. If things went on the way they were, this Buizel was going to be stuck struggling on this dead team until one day, he got sent after something he couldn't handle. Something that he couldn't run from, something that wouldn't let him get away. Eventually, he'd get hurt. Or worse. It definitely wasn't any of his business, but... if he were in this situation, fighting for a team of absentee friends that were once worth fighting for, maybe he'd appreciate a push in a different direction. "But yer buddies are leavin' ya out ta dry. Where were they on yer last job? Do ya even know?"

Then again, he could be barking up the wrong tree entirely. Goro had never had a best friend, never had the memories that Jet was fighting every day to preserve, so maybe they really were worth the struggle. Maybe if he'd grown up in the Small Pond, he'd fight to preserve those memories, of playing with other Pokemon under the nostalgic and watchful eyes of their seniors. Maybe a Rescue Team was worth keeping alive.

Nah. Not fer me, thanks.