Pokemon BW fic
Chapter Three: Kids
“Sorry,” Touko felt the need to say. “Alder was kind of a dick to you. I don’t believe what he said.”
“It’s alright. We can’t all be bleeding hearts like Bianca. That’s why we have you, the ego to balance my superego and her id. Not that Freudian psychology is the vogue anywhere but the media.”
As usual she’d only understood half of what Cheren was talking about, but that was irrelevant. “It was pretty dumb to ask about after becoming Champion. We’re just kids. I wish I had goals as well defined as you do, drive like you. I can hardly think of what I’m going to have for breakfast tomorrow, let alone what I’ll do next year or between now and being in a nursing home.” Maybe as far as getting to N she could imagine, but no further.
“I want my Pokémon to be strong. I get them that way through the most efficient training strategies. I won’t apologize for that. I’d rather be unpopular with people who talk a lot about ‘heart’ than flounder around denying my nature.”
Cheren solved problems by thinking about them very hard and acting decisively how he had deemed best, always had, and he battled with the same single-minded intensity and firm convictions about which strategies were the “strongest.” Cheren had certainty, about what he wanted, about Team Plasma.
Bianca fumbled around in battle, making her Pokémon do most of the work as she concentrated on them more than her opponent. Touko would have thrown her last fight with her to have avoided seeing the lack of self-confidence she did afterwards, but it was a fact that not all trainers were battlers and that was okay. Bianca had stood up to her father’s attempts to drag or guilt her back home (though beneath the part of her that had trusted her friend, who had the will to run away in the first place, to have gained confidence, the likewise grown Touko had been thinking that if he laid a hand on Bianca by the gods she would hospitalize him in the middle of the street). Even Bianca’s mother had shown signs of a spine, conspiring with Touko and Cheren’s mothers to ease their leaving (She shouldn’t be so disparaging to the woman; after all, what had she ever done back then?)
Touko was a natural. No doubt about it. She just knew what to do, in training, in battle. Didn’t know why, but she knew. Humility aside, in her very limited inexperience, she was obviously shaping up to be one hell of a trainer once she got more of that experience. The only thing that worried her was her insight, her intuition failing her one day and having no groundwork of understanding to fall back on, so she admired Cheren. Cheren had answers, Bianca knew how to handle questions, and Touko had doubt.
“If you hold my hand while we walk across the bridge, you get your bleeding-heart points for the day. One hundred percent of your recommended daily value.”
He smiled. “Deal.”
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“Sorry,” Touko felt the need to say. “Alder was kind of a dick to you. I don’t believe what he said.”
“It’s alright. We can’t all be bleeding hearts like Bianca. That’s why we have you, the ego to balance my superego and her id. Not that Freudian psychology is the vogue anywhere but the media.”
As usual she’d only understood half of what Cheren was talking about, but that was irrelevant. “It was pretty dumb to ask about after becoming Champion. We’re just kids. I wish I had goals as well defined as you do, drive like you. I can hardly think of what I’m going to have for breakfast tomorrow, let alone what I’ll do next year or between now and being in a nursing home.” Maybe as far as getting to N she could imagine, but no further.
“I want my Pokémon to be strong. I get them that way through the most efficient training strategies. I won’t apologize for that. I’d rather be unpopular with people who talk a lot about ‘heart’ than flounder around denying my nature.”
Cheren solved problems by thinking about them very hard and acting decisively how he had deemed best, always had, and he battled with the same single-minded intensity and firm convictions about which strategies were the “strongest.” Cheren had certainty, about what he wanted, about Team Plasma.
Bianca fumbled around in battle, making her Pokémon do most of the work as she concentrated on them more than her opponent. Touko would have thrown her last fight with her to have avoided seeing the lack of self-confidence she did afterwards, but it was a fact that not all trainers were battlers and that was okay. Bianca had stood up to her father’s attempts to drag or guilt her back home (though beneath the part of her that had trusted her friend, who had the will to run away in the first place, to have gained confidence, the likewise grown Touko had been thinking that if he laid a hand on Bianca by the gods she would hospitalize him in the middle of the street). Even Bianca’s mother had shown signs of a spine, conspiring with Touko and Cheren’s mothers to ease their leaving (She shouldn’t be so disparaging to the woman; after all, what had she ever done back then?)
Touko was a natural. No doubt about it. She just knew what to do, in training, in battle. Didn’t know why, but she knew. Humility aside, in her very limited inexperience, she was obviously shaping up to be one hell of a trainer once she got more of that experience. The only thing that worried her was her insight, her intuition failing her one day and having no groundwork of understanding to fall back on, so she admired Cheren. Cheren had answers, Bianca knew how to handle questions, and Touko had doubt.
“If you hold my hand while we walk across the bridge, you get your bleeding-heart points for the day. One hundred percent of your recommended daily value.”
He smiled. “Deal.”
Back to main page