Chapter 26: Patricia and Buizel
The motorhome lurched through the mountain pass, its suspension groaning over every rut and loose stone. Axel drove with grim silence, his knuckles white on the steering wheel, Rotom flickering in the dashboard's display like a nervous flame. The headlights cut through fog that had rolled in from the coast, thick and briny, tasting of salt and something older—something that reminded Briv of the factory's chemical stench, though he knew that was just his mind playing tricks.
Patricia sat in the passenger seat, Buneary curled in her lap, her eyes fixed on the road ahead. She hadn't spoken since they'd left the ranger station. None of them had, really. Axel's warning about the Eclipse Squad had settled over the group like a shroud, and even Samuel's easy rhythm had gone quiet, his fingers drumming absently on his knee.
The coast road appeared without warning, the trees falling away to reveal a sheer drop and, beyond it, the ocean. Moonlight spilled across the water in silver ribbons, and the horizon stretched endless and dark. Briv had seen the sea before—Aethelburg's glowing canals fed into it, after all—but never like this. Never so vast. Never so indifferent.
"Stop," Patricia said.
Axel glanced at her. "We don't have time—"
"Stop the fucking motorhome."
The words came out sharp, cutting through the fog and the silence and the weight of everything. Axel's jaw tightened, but he pulled the vehicle onto a gravel turnout overlooking the cliffs. The engine died, and for a moment there was only the sound of waves crashing against rocks below.
Patricia was out of her seat before anyone could speak, Buneary in her arms, striding toward the edge of the cliff. Briv moved to follow, but Nicola caught his arm.
"Give her a minute," she said, and there was something unexpected in her voice—a softness, almost. "She's been holding it together since the factory. Let her breathe."
Briv wanted to argue. Wanted to be there for her, the way he always was. But Nicola was right. Patricia wasn't the kind of person who needed rescuing. She was the kind who needed space to find her own footing.
So he waited.
---
Patricia stood at the cliff's edge, wind whipping her blonde hair into a frenzy, and looked at the ocean. Buneary pressed against her chest, ears flat, sensing her trainer's turmoil.
"You know what I keep thinking about?" Patricia said, not looking back at the motorhome. "That night in the canal. Under the water. I thought we were going to die, Briv. Both of us. And I remember thinking—this is it. This is how it ends. And I hadn't done anything yet. I hadn't proven anything."
She paused, swallowing hard.
"I'm not like you. Or Nicola. Or even Dariana. I didn't grow up dreaming about being the best. I didn't fight my way through the League with some grand destiny. I just... I wanted to be good. I wanted to matter. And now we're running from people who want to kill us, and I still don't know if I do."
Buneary chirped, pressing its face into her neck, and Patricia's arms tightened around it.
"I'm not going to let fear make my choices for me anymore," she whispered. "Not after everything."
The words hung in the salt air, and Patricia felt something shift inside her—a small, fragile thing, like a bud unfurling.
That was when she saw it.
A flash of orange in the water below, quick and bright against the dark waves. Patricia leaned forward, squinting, and saw it again—a sleek shape cutting through the surf, twin tails trailing behind it like ribbons. It breached for a moment, moonlit fur dripping, and she caught a glimpse of a yellow flotation sac, a playful grin, eyes that sparkled with wild mischief.
A Buizel.
Patricia's breath caught. She'd seen Buizel before, of course—they were common enough along Elyssia's rivers—but never like this. Never one so clearly wild, so full of uncomplicated joy. It was playing in the waves, chasing its own tails, diving beneath the surface and erupting again in sprays of silver water. It moved like it didn't have a care in the world.
She wanted it.
Not for power. Not for strategy. She wanted it because it was beautiful. Because it was free. Because watching it dance through the waves made her feel, for the first time in days, that the world still contained things worth fighting for.
"Okay," she said to Buneary. "We're catching that Buizel."
Buneary's ears perked up, and its eyes widened—a mix of excitement and nervousness. It had never been part of a capture before. None of them had.
Patricia turned and jogged back to the motorhome, her heart pounding. Briv was already stepping out, his expression a mix of concern and curiosity.
"What's going on?"
"There's a Buizel. In the water. I'm going to catch it."
Nicola raised an eyebrow. "Right now? We're supposed to be moving."
"Then we'll move after." Patricia met her eyes, unflinching. "I'm done letting fear make my choices."
The words echoed what she'd whispered to the sea, and Nicola—after a long moment—nodded. "You'll need a plan. Buizel are fast. Faster than anything you've got."
"I know." Patricia looked at her belt, at the three balls clipped there. Budew and Gligar wouldn't be much use in the water. That left Buneary. Buneary, who had never been in a real battle. Buneary, who was soft and fluffy and shy.
Buneary looked up at her, and Patricia saw the fear in its eyes. But she also saw the determination beneath it. The same determination she felt in her own chest.
"You can do this," Patricia said. "I believe in you."
---
They found a path down to the beach, a narrow, winding trail that switchbacked through sea grass and loose rock. Patricia led the way, Buneary in her arms, Briv and the others following at a distance. Samuel had brought a portable light, but Patricia shook her head.
"No. Let the moonlight guide us."
The beach was a crescent of dark sand, bordered by cliffs on one side and the endless ocean on the other. The Buizel was still there, still playing in the surf, oblivious to the audience that had gathered on the shore. It dove beneath a wave and emerged with a Magikarp in its jaws, tossing the fish into the air and catching it again, clearly delighted with itself.
"That's... kind of fucked up," Nicola murmured.
"It's nature," Axel said. "Let it be."
Patricia set Buneary down on the sand. The little rabbit Pokémon hopped forward, nose twitching, and the Buizel noticed. It dropped the Magikarp—which flopped back into the water and swam away—and fixed Buneary with a curious stare.
For a long moment, nothing happened. Two Pokémon, one wild and one domestic, sizing each other up across the sand. Then Buizel grinned, a wide, toothy expression full of challenge, and dove into the surf.
"Here it comes," Briv warned.
Buizel exploded from the water, propelling itself forward on a jet of spray, and slammed into Buneary with a Water Gun that sent the rabbit tumbling across the beach. Buneary scrambled to its feet, fur wet and matted, eyes wide with shock.
Patricia's heart lurched. "Buneary, use Quick Attack!"
Buneary's body glowed white, and it launched forward, a blur of motion that caught Buizel off guard. The rabbit connected, striking Buizel's flank, and the water weasel spun away, surprised.
But only for a moment.
Buizel recovered instantly, using its twin tails to pivot in midair, and responded with Sonic Boom—a wave of compressed air that hit Buneary like a wall. The rabbit flew backward, skipping across the sand, and didn't get up.
"Buneary!" Patricia ran forward, but Buneary was already pushing itself upright, shaking, eyes still bright. It wasn't giving up. It refused to give up.
"Okay," Patricia said, thinking fast. "It's faster than us. It's stronger in the water. But look at it—it's cocky. Overconfident. We can use that."
She glanced at her belt, at Budew's ball, and made a decision.
"Budew, I need you too."
The little grass Pokémon materialized on the sand, blinking sleepily, and immediately noticed the Buizel. Budew's petals quivered, fear flickering across its dreamy face, but it didn't run. It stood its ground.
"Listen," Patricia said, crouching to address both Pokémon. "Buizel fights with speed. It uses the water to move. So we take away its advantage. Budew, I need you to use Growth—make yourself bigger, stronger. Then when I give the word, use Absorb. Drain its energy."
Budew nodded slowly, then closed its eyes, and its body began to glow with soft green light. The Pokémon swelled slightly, petals sharpening, a low hum emanating from its form.
Buizel, meanwhile, had been watching with growing impatience. It didn't like being ignored. With a sharp cry, it launched another Water Gun—this time aimed at Budew.
"Buneary, intercept!"
Buneary threw itself in front of Budew, taking the full force of the water blast. The rabbit cried out, sliding backward, but it held its position. It was protecting Budew. Protecting the team.
"Now, Budew! Absorb!"
Twin streams of green energy erupted from Budew's petals, arcing toward Buizel. The water weasel tried to dodge, but Buneary was already moving—Quick Attack again, cutting off Buizel's escape route. The Absorb hit home, and Buizel screeched as its life force was drained, the energy flowing into Budew and revitalizing the tiny grass type.
"Heal up, Buneary," Patricia said, and Budew extended a tendril of green energy toward the rabbit, who absorbed it gratefully. The wounds from the Water Gun sealed over, and Buneary's eyes brightened with renewed strength.
Buizel looked furious. It had gone from playing to fighting in seconds, and it didn't like being on the back foot. It dove back into the water, disappearing beneath the surface, and Patricia knew what was coming.
"It's going to attack from below! Buneary, get ready—jump when I say!"
The water erupted behind Buneary, and Buizel shot upward, jaws gaping, aimed at the rabbit's back. But Patricia was already shouting, and Buneary was already jumping—a high, graceful leap that carried it over Buizel's head. The water weasel snapped at empty air, its momentum carrying it past, and Budew struck.
"Absorb! Full power!"
The green energy slammed into Buizel from behind, and the water weasel tumbled across the sand, skidding to a stop at the water's edge. It lay there for a moment, breathing hard, spent. It had never been challenged like this. Never been hurt like this.
Patricia saw the fear in its eyes. The same fear she'd felt in the canal, drowning and helpless. She saw the exhaustion, the bewilderment, the dawning realization that the fight might not go its way.
And she felt something unexpected: empathy.
"I'm not going to force you," she said, though she knew Buizel couldn't understand her words. "If you want to run, run. I won't chase you. But if you want a trainer—a partner who will push you, who will challenge you, who will never let you give up—then stay. Stay and fight."
The words weren't a command. They were an invitation.
And Buizel heard something in them that made it pause.
It looked at Buneary—bruised, tired, but still standing. It looked at Budew—shy, clumsy, but full of hidden strength. It looked at Patricia—a woman who had faced death and decided she wasn't going to let fear win.
Buizel got up. It didn't run. It stood on shaky legs and raised its twin tails like a challenge.
"One more," Patricia said. "Buneary, Budew—together."
Buneary charged forward, Quick Attack blazing, and Budew followed, slower but determined, Absorb already gathering in its petals. Buizel met them head-on, swirling water around its body in a spiraling Aqua Jet, and the three Pokémon collided in a burst of light and motion.
When the spray cleared, Buizel was on the sand, unconscious. Buneary stood over it, panting, one ear torn, fur matted with salt and sweat. Budew had collapsed, utterly spent, but still glowing faintly with leftover energy. They had won.
Patricia approached slowly, a Pokéball in her hand. She knelt beside Buizel, and even though it was out, she whispered, "Thank you. For the fight. For showing me what I can be."
She pressed the ball against Buizel's forehead, and the capture mechanism engaged. The ball shook once. Twice. Three times.
And then it clicked.
---
Patricia stood up, Buizel's ball clutched in her hand, and turned to face the others. Briv was grinning like an idiot. Nicola looked almost impressed. Dariana was beaming, Shellos wriggling in her arms. Even Axel had cracked a smile—a small one, but a smile nonetheless.
"That was something," Briv said.
Patricia looked at the ball in her hand, at the Pokémon she'd just caught, and felt tears prick at her eyes. Not because she was sad. Because she was proud. For the first time in a long time, she felt like she'd earned something.
She looked at the ocean, at the moonlight on the waves, and felt something loosen in her chest. The fear was still there—it would always be there. But it didn't own her anymore.
"Okay," she said, turning back to the motorhome. "Now we can go."
Briv fell into step beside her as they walked back up the beach. "You know you just caught a Buizel with a Buneary and a Budew, right? That's insane."
"Insane is what I do." Patricia glanced at him, and for the first time in days, she smiled—really smiled. "Besides, you're the one who taught me that the right Pokémon will always choose you. Elias said that, actually. But you believed it first."
Briv laughed. "Elias says a lot of things. Half of them don't make sense."
"This one did."
They reached the motorhome, and Patricia climbed inside, cradling Buizel's ball against her chest. She could feel the Pokémon inside—still weak, still recovering—but also something else. A spark. The same spark she'd felt in herself when she'd decided to stop running.
Nicola was sitting in the passenger seat, Starly perched on the dashboard, when Patricia slid into the back. The two women exchanged a look—not quite friendship, but something adjacent. Respect, maybe. Or the beginning of it.
"Nice catch," Nicola said.
"Thanks."
"Don't let it go to your head."
"No promises."
Nicola's lips twitched—almost a smile. "Fair enough."
The motorhome's engine rumbled to life, and Axel pulled back onto the road, heading toward Greenbloom Town and whatever waited there. Patricia leaned her head against the window and watched the ocean disappear behind them, Willow's ball warm in her hands.
She didn't know what came next. None of them did. But for the first time since the factory, Patricia felt like she was exactly where she was supposed to be.
Chasing the moon. Chasing the future. Chasing whatever came next.
=====
(TRAINERS NEVER GIVE NAMES TO THEIR POKEMON !!! NEVER!!!)
NEVER! The word hung in the air like a challenge, and Nicola felt it settle into her bones. She watched the motorhome's taillights disappear around the coastal bend, heard the engine fade into the crash of waves and wind. Patricia was inside, probably already asleep with that new Buizel's ball pressed against her chest. Briv was in there too, probably replaying the battle in his head, probably already planning their next move.
Nicola stayed outside.
Starly perched on her shoulder, talons gripping the leather of her jacket, head swiveling to track every movement in the dark. The bird Pokémon hadn't relaxed since they'd left the ranger station. Neither had Nicola. Something about the coast road set her teeth on edge—too exposed, too open, too many angles an ambush could come from. Axel had said they were safe for now. Axel had also said the Eclipse Squad was getting closer.
She didn't trust "safe."
She walked the perimeter of the turnout, boots crunching on gravel, Starly's eyes scanning the darkness. Magnemite hovered at her other shoulder, its single blue eye cycling through wavelengths—infrared, ultraviolet, electromagnetic. The Pokémon hummed with quiet tension, magnets twitching at every distant sound.
"You feel it too," Nicola murmured.
Magnemite rotated slightly, which she took as agreement.
The beach below was empty now, the Buizel's capture having scattered whatever other Pokémon had been hunting in the surf. But the cliffs above the turnout were riddled with crevices, shadowed recesses where anything could hide. Nicola had learned to read terrain in the League, had learned that battles were won or lost before the first move was called. She was reading this terrain now, and it was telling her to stay sharp.
Starly chirped—a sharp, sudden sound—and Nicola's hand went to her belt.
"What is it?"
The bird Pokémon launched off her shoulder, wings cutting through the fog, and circled a cluster of rocks about fifty meters up the slope. Nicola followed, Magnemite trailing, her boots slipping on loose scree. The fog thickened as she climbed, muffling sound, turning the world into a gray-white blur.
She heard it before she saw it.
A soft, rhythmic clicking. Like chitin against stone. Like something patient, waiting.
Nicola crested the rocks and froze.
The Skorupi was smaller than she'd expected—maybe two feet long, including the tail—but it was unmistakably dangerous. Purple armored segments covered its body, each one edged with tiny barbs. Its pincers were raised, dripping with something that glistened in the moonlight. And its eyes—piercing, ice-blue, utterly without fear—were fixed directly on her.
Starly landed on a rock above the scorpion Pokémon, wings spread, ready to strike. Magnemite hummed louder, magnets sparking with stored electricity. But the Skorupi didn't move. It didn't flee. It just watched, tail curling and uncurling with mechanical precision.
Nicola felt a grin spread across her face.
"You're not going to run, are you?"
The Skorupi clicked its pincers, a sound that might have been a challenge. Or a warning. Or both.
Nicola unclipped a Pokéball from her belt, but she didn't throw it. Not yet. She wanted to understand this Pokémon first. Skorupi were rare in this part of Elyssia—mostly found in the deep desert beyond the mountains, where the sand was hot and the nights were cold and survival meant being harder than everything around you. This one had wandered far from home. Or been driven out.
"You're a long way from the desert," she said, keeping her voice low and even. "What are you doing on the coast?"
The Skorupi didn't answer, obviously. But it shifted its weight, and Nicola saw the scars on its carapace—old wounds, healed badly, evidence of fights it had barely survived. This wasn't a Pokémon that had chosen to leave its territory. This was a Pokémon that had been forced out.
Something in Nicola's chest tightened.
She knew what that felt like.
"Okay," she said, and her voice hardened. "Let's see what you've got."
She threw the ball.
Starly exploded from it before the ball even hit the ground, wings already beating, already climbing. The Skorupi reacted instantly—faster than Nicola had expected—its tail whipping around to intercept. The stinger missed Starly by inches, embedding itself in the rock where the bird had been perched a moment before.
"Poison Tail," Nicola muttered. "Noted."
Starly circled overhead, sharp eyes tracking the Skorupi's movements. The scorpion Pokémon scuttled sideways, positioning itself against a larger boulder, protecting its flank. Smart. Defensive. Patient.
"Starly, Quick Attack!"
The bird dove, wings tucked, a gray blur against the fog. Skorupi raised its pincers, ready to catch the impact, but Starly was faster—always faster—and veered at the last second, raking its talons across the scorpion's back.
Skorupi hissed, a sound like escaping steam, and spun. Its tail lashed out again, but Starly was already climbing, already out of range. The bird chirped, triumphant, and Nicola felt a surge of pride.
"Good. Now, Wing Attack!"
Starly folded its wings and dropped like a stone, building speed, then snapped them open at the last moment. The glowing wing caught Skorupi across the face, and the scorpion staggered backward, pincers flailing.
But it didn't fall. It planted its feet, lowered its body, and waited.
Nicola frowned. "What are you doing?"
The Skorupi's tail curled forward, over its head, and a purple glow began to build at the tip. Not Poison Tail. Something else. Something bigger.
"Starly, get out of there!"
The bird tried to climb, but the Skorupi was already moving—not toward Starly, but toward Nicola. The scorpion scuttled across the rocks with terrifying speed, tail whipping forward, and Nicola barely had time to throw herself sideways before the stinger slammed into the ground where she'd been standing.
Venom hissed against the stone, eating into the rock.
"Shit!"
Magnemite intercepted, magnets crackling, and fired a Thunder Shock that sent the Skorupi skidding backward. The scorpion screeched, limbs twitching, but it recovered quickly—too quickly—and fixed its ice-blue eyes on Nicola again.
It wasn't trying to win a battle. It was trying to drive her off. To protect its territory. To survive.
"You think I'm going to run?" Nicola pushed herself up, ignoring the scrapes on her palms. "You picked the wrong fucking trainer."
Starly swooped down, landing on Nicola's outstretched arm, and the two of them faced the Skorupi together. The scorpion was panting now, exhausted but not defeated. Its tail still curled forward, ready for another strike. Its pincers still raised, still dripping.
"Here's the thing," Nicola said, keeping her voice steady. "You're strong. You're tough. You've survived shit that would have killed most Pokémon. I respect that. I respect the hell out of it."
The Skorupi's eyes narrowed.
"But you're alone. You've been alone since you left the desert. And I know what that feels like—to be so focused on survival that you forget there's anything else. To push everyone away because it's easier than getting hurt."
Nicola took a step forward. Starly tensed on her arm, but she didn't stop.
"I'm not going to hurt you. I'm not going to force you. But if you want a partner—someone who will match your strength, who will never ask you to be anything less than what you are—then I'm right here."
The Skorupi stared at her. Its tail twitched. Its pincers clicked.
For a long moment, nothing happened.
Then the scorpion Pokémon lowered its tail. Slowly. Deliberately. Its eyes never left Nicola's face, watching for any sign of betrayal. But Nicola didn't move. She just stood there, arm extended, Starly perched and ready, Magnemite hovering behind her like a silent guardian.
"You don't have to decide now," Nicola said. "But I'm not leaving without giving you the choice."
She reached to her belt and unclipped an empty Pokéball. She held it out, palm open, and waited.
The Skorupi scuttled forward. One step. Two. Its pincers were still raised, still ready, but its tail was low now, almost dragging. It stopped a foot from Nicola's boots and looked up at her with those ice-blue eyes.
Then it pressed its forehead against the Pokéball.
The capture mechanism engaged. The ball shook once—a violent, angry shake that almost broke free. Nicola held her breath. The ball shook again, weaker this time. And then, with a soft click, it went still.
Nicola stared at the ball in her hand. It was warm. She could feel the Skorupi inside—not calm, not yet, but not fighting. Accepting. For now.
"Holy shit," she whispered.
Starly chirped, nuzzling against her ear, and Magnemite's hum shifted to something that might have been approval. Nicola let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding and clipped the ball to her belt.
"Okay," she said, turning back toward the motorhome. "Okay."
She climbed down the rocks, boots sliding on scree, and by the time she reached the turnout, the others had noticed her absence. Briv stood at the motorhome's door, Chimchar on his shoulder, his expression caught between worry and curiosity.
"Everything okay?"
Nicola held up the ball. "Caught a Skorupi."
Briv's eyebrows shot up. "You what?"
"It was up on the cliffs. Trying to scare me off. I convinced it otherwise."
"Convinced it." Briv shook his head, a grin spreading across his face. "You are genuinely terrifying, you know that?"
"Thanks." Nicola walked past him into the motorhome, where Patricia was just stirring from her bunk, Buizel's ball still clutched in her hands. Dariana was awake too, Shellos draped across her lap like a boneless cat, and Samuel was sitting cross-legged on the floor, tuning a small hand drum.
"Did I hear you caught something?" Dariana asked.
"Skorupi. Poison-Bug type. Doesn't like people much."
"Sounds like someone I know." Dariana's eyes sparkled with amusement, and Nicola couldn't help but smirk.
"Fuck off."
"Love you too."
Nicola settled into the passenger seat, Starly hopping onto the dashboard, Magnemite floating to its usual spot near the ceiling. Axel glanced at her, his green eyes unreadable.
"Skorupi," he said. "Rare around here."
"I know."
"Good catch."
Nicola nodded, and that was that. Axel didn't do small talk, and she didn't need it. They understood each other—two people who'd learned to survive by being harder than the world around them.
The motorhome's engine rumbled, and the vehicle pulled back onto the road, heading east toward Greenbloom Town. Nicola looked out the window at the fog, at the ocean disappearing behind them, and felt the new weight on her belt—the ball that held a Pokémon as stubborn and scarred as she was.
She didn't know if the Skorupi would ever trust her. She didn't know if she'd ever trust it. But they'd figure it out. That was what partners did.
The fog thinned as they climbed away from the coast, revealing the first hints of dawn—a pale gray light bleeding across the horizon, painting the mountains in shades of blue and silver. Nicola closed her eyes, just for a moment, and let herself feel the rhythm of the road beneath her.
They were heading somewhere new. Somewhere with a farm and a map and a trainer named Elias who smiled too much. Somewhere that might, if they were lucky, offer a few hours of peace before the next crisis hit.
Nicola didn't believe in luck.
But she believed in preparation. In strategy. In the cold, hard calculus of survival.
And she believed in the Pokémon on her belt—the ones who'd chosen to stand with her, scars and all.