Janine had told us not to come in tomorrow, which meant we had the next day off. It was a nice chance to decompress from yesterday’s stress.

  And of course, the best way to relax was with training! This coming weekend would make three since our second Underleague badge challenge, and while I didn’t think we were quite ready to go for the third badge, I was hoping that next weekend, we’d be prepared.

  Problem was, that meant beating an Underleader whose main typing was a direct counter to my most experienced partners.

  Thus far, my knights had conspicuously lacked ranged options, so at the start of the week, I’d tried using the Stone Edge TM sent by Drake. To their and my chagrin, they weren’t able to learn the move from the device, but before all hope was lost, Bers was able to conjure up the tiniest bit of stone. My knights were definitely able to learn some sort of Rock-type move, and the Stone Edge TM had given them the impetus to begin working with the energy.

  The jailbroken Macro Gear I’d gotten from my coworker Mark proved invaluable once again, giving me a method for reaching out to a sometimes-contact, Abigail Saito. The Fighting-type specialist and former Stow-on-Side gym leader sent a message with some valuable information, telling me that Falinks could learn two different Rock-type moves: Rock tomb, and Rock Slide. The former caused spires of stone to erupt from the ground, trapping and slowing opposing Pokémon, but it wasn’t well-suited for hitting fast Flying-types.

  Rock Slide was much closer to what we were looking for. When used, the move causes a bevy of stones to appear and fly towards the target. Unfortunately, it was also harder to learn than its compatriot, both because it was a stronger attack that required more Rock-Type energy, and also because it required conjuring those rocks from thin air.

  Of course, hard didn’t mean impossible, and my knights were determined to prove they had what it took. Some advice from Mitt, Donna’s Copperajah, the day before yesterday had put them on the right path, and while they’d need a bit longer yet, I was confident they’d have it at least quasi-useable before our upcoming match with the third Underleader.

  Of course, my knights weren’t the only Pokémon on my team, and I was determined to make sure that both Mana and Maushold felt like they contributed in our upcoming match.

  Luckily, circumstances had conspired such that I had a plan.

  The third Underleader’s first partner, a lightning-quick Taillow, was a dangerous combatant. His sheer speed and maneuverability made it difficult to even track him, let alone land attacks on him. Luckily for us, it seemed like he had a fatal vulnerability. The scrappy Flying-type completely lacked any sort of ranged option.

  Normally, it wouldn’t be a critical weakness. His high speed, boosted further by what I’d come to learn was the move Tailwind, helped substantially mitigate the issue, allowing him to close in and attack at a breakneck pace, even within the limited confines of the arena’s barrier.

  It did, however, give us an opportunity. Mana wasn’t the most agile or accurate combatant, but if she could land just one solid Water-type attack on the speedy bird, she could completely turn the tables.

  Taillow weren’t seabirds, and they generally weren’t strong enough to shrug off having their feathers soaked. After hosing him down, Mana would have a window of opportunity where her opponent was both grounded and slowed. If we took proper advantage, my fishy partner might be able to claim her first knockout in an official match.

  Sadly, the plan was far easier stated than executed. That Taillow was fast, even without getting boosted by Tailwind. He would have to close in to attack, but there was no guarantee Mana would be able to track and strike him with a Brine or a Water Gun, even at point-blank range. We’d need to do some special training to make sure that when the time came, she’d be able to hit her target.

  Unfortunately, I didn’t have a Flying-type partner to help Mana train her accuracy. I could throw training tools, or have my other Pokémon launch attacks for Mana to deflect with her moves, but neither felt like they’d be accurate enough simulations for our upcoming battle.

  Luckily, I’d never met a Wingull I couldn’t bribe with a sandwich. Our newest training partner, recruited from the ever-present flocks that patrolled Techne’s beaches looking for scraps, was happy enough to do buzzing flybys on my piscine partner for a few hours, as long as I periodically provided small bits and pieces of my Oran jam sandwich.

  While the wild Pokémon wasn’t nearly as fast as the Taillow we’d be facing in a week-and-a-half, she definitely gave us the right feel for the upcoming fight, helping Mana gain a better understanding of the three-dimensional space available to her opponent.

  So that was the beginning of the match sorted (in theory). The Underleader’s second Pokémon, a mean-looking Staravia, was going to be another problem entirely. The much larger Flying-type wasn’t going to be nearly as hampered by doused wings, if she ever even came close enough that Mana could land a hit.

  Last week, I’d seen her use some sort of ranged Flying-type move that traveled too quickly for Mana to have any reasonable chance of evasion. That, coupled with her higher mobility in the air, meant that I didn’t give my piscine partner great odds in the confrontation.

  So this is where Maushold would have to come in. And once again, I had a plan. Most of it hinged on a powerful move that my newest partners had learned just recently. The attack, Encore, was something Donna insisted I put a focus on. She said it had played havoc with her team’s attempts to corral the wild Maushold, and after finding out its effect, I could fully understand why.

  Encore forced the targeted Pokémon to repeat whatever move it had most recently chosen. The amount of time it inflicted this condition for was variable, mostly depending on the relative strengths of the user and their target. My newest partners weren’t the most experienced with the attack, and I didn’t think they were substantially stronger than the Underleader’s Staravia, so I doubted that they could stall her for more than five-to-ten seconds. Still, that sort of time was huge on a battlefield.

  In a Ferrum battle, that could be most of the match right there, but standard battles were far slower. Still, it would buy us crucial time to set up the second part of our plan. Echoed Voice

  The attack was a familiar one, and I could still recall the grinding headache it had caused in me the first time I’d been targeted with it. And that was after just a single use. The move quickly ramped up from annoying to devastating after a few repeated uses. Unfortunately, finding that sort of opening could be a challenge. Unless, say, your opponent was stuck repeatedly conjuring a Tailwind for a little while.

  Best of all, the move was sound-based, which made it all but impossible to dodge, even for the prodigiously fast Staravia. Not within the enclosed confines of the underpass’ arena, anyway.

  Which just left the Underleader’s ‘Ace.’ I wasn’t super familiar with Unfezant, they and their pre-evolutions were far more common in Neos than Techne, and the last time I’d watched them battle, we’d barely gotten any intel before they’d knocked their opponent out with a perfunctory Quick Attack.

  So unless we learned more this weekend when I went back to the underpass again, we were going to have to play this part by ear. Hopefully, the combination of Maushold’s powered-up Echoed Voice, along with my knight’s newly-learned Rock Slide, would see us win the day.

  Still, even just the small amount of planning we had done was already helping monumentally in giving us a direction for our training.

  Trying to tag pesky Wingull for Mana, Rock-type manipulation for my knights, and practice to enhance the duration of Encore for Maushold.

  Those, along with our normal conditioning, command memorization, and light sparring with the local wild Pokémon made for a fulfilling day.

  The next morning, I was at the ranger station bright and early, excited to hear what the corps had come up with to deal with the private contractors potentially infringing on our territory.

  Disappointingly, the answer for now was, not much. It seemed like the corps had less of a plan for answering the contractors than I did for beating the underleader.

  Basically, the instructions we received boiled down to defending our jurisdiction for all things outside of city limits, and any incidents involving wild Pokémon within the city. We were told to stand our ground and try to prevent them from encroaching on our duties, but the stance was concerningly passive.

  It seemed like the corps was mostly hoping that if we came at our work proactively enough, people would realize we didn’t need the contractors and they’d be dismissed when the bill’s allotted season passed.

  I wasn’t so sure about that, but I kept my doubts to myself, and spent most of the rest of the day trying to chew through the pieces of the ranger handbook I hadn’t gotten to before. The laws and minutiae suddenly seemed far more important when soldiers in body armor might show up to quiz you on your understanding.

  The weekend was spent training and at the underpass once more. No one challenged the underleader that weekend, so I didn’t get any new information, but my battles went well, and I only dropped three of our ten matches, two for Mana, and one for Maushold.

  The success was gratifying, but it was tempered with the feeling that most of my opponents were hobbyists, more concerned with getting their partners some exercise than with actual training in earnest. I hadn’t been around long enough, nor established the sort of reputation that earned me battles with the really experienced fighters.

  And there were a few of them. I’d gotten to memorizing a few distinct names over my trips to the three underpasses I’d been to so far, making sure to commit the mask and pseudonym on any particularly impressive battlers to memory.

  These were the people with multiple partners, the ones who fought in full three-on-three's with switches, and deployed moves that made the portable generators or hired Psychic-types strain to maintain their battlefield’s barriers.

  Donna was one of them of course, in her guise as ‘Steelica.’ I’d only caught her once, but her battle had been impressive, against a woman in an opera mask called Banshee. The fight had come down to Donna’s Ferrothorn, Grinder, against the other woman’s Exploud, and the infernal racket that match had caused had overcome even the natural volume of the trains running overhead.

  Ghostkid was another, and in spite of his cringy name, I had to respect his prowess as a battler. The few times I’d seen him, his crew of spooky specters had employed all manner of tricks and traps to bait their opponents into making mistakes.

  My favorite battler so far was Argon, a well-muscled man whose age I couldn’t pin down. His brown, spiky hair flew out everywhere from under the flat brim cap that he wore, and his strength as a battler was undeniable. I’d caught two matches from the man, and in both, he’d swept his opponent with only a single partner. His Greninja was fast, hard-hitting, and adaptable, and they tore through their opponents so easily that I couldn’t help but wonder what two Pokémon Argon was keeping in reserve on his belt.

  The burly man was definitely an outlier, but all of the people competing at that level were strong. You knew that was the case because if you wanted to challenge someone to a full match, you had to have at least five badges. This wasn’t true for the person challenged, but it was seen as poor form to punch down too much, and in the underpass reputation mattered.

  I learned just as much about these more-serious battlers from gossip as I did from actually watching them, and while I made sure to take anything I heard from second-hand sources with a grain of salt, the excitement that came from chatting with other people who loved battling, even if only as a hobby, was infectious.

  It was sort of like the oral version of the zines I used to collect. To my chagrin, the small, print-bound pamphlets made by fellow battle enthusiasts hadn’t survived my summer tantrum, which was a shame since they had contained useful info.

  While they mostly focused on the drama and stories around the battle trainers competing in the official leagues, they’d also held plenty of information about common combos, useful moves, and even Pokémon abilities. Not everything there would have been transferable to standard battles, but it would have been better to have the resources than not.

  Still, there was no use crying over spilled Moomoo Milk. I had a new place to focus my energy, and my partners and I were both looking forward to proving what we could do next weekend. Soon, we’d be the ones people were gossiping about, We’d make sure of it.

  -

  Another week, another thirty-odd hours spent cooped up at the station. It wasn’t like I didn’t understand, but Arceus, was it frustrating.

  So when the weekend finally rolled around, my partners and I were beyond ready to cut loose. Well, my knights and I, anyway.

  I’d scheduled my match a week ago, which meant on Saturday, we were set and ready to go. I was the second challenger that day, so I had to exert a little bit more patience, but when my time slot rolled around, I was right there, ready and waiting.

  I evaluated the underleader again as we squared off from one another across the battlefield. Backlit by the faint light generated by the arena’s barrier, ‘Apex’ cut a rather intimidating figure. His bomber jacket and flight helmet had seemed like cute affections a couple of weeks ago, but now they brought up a thrill of nerves in me. What if this man really had been a soldier? Was he a veteran of corporate shadow wars in Orre, or a former privateer who used to prowl the Sinnohan sea?

  It sounded ridiculous in my head, like a bout of paranoia. And yet, most people didn’t have three partners, let alone six, and you generally needed a pretty compelling reason to break that norm. Not to mention the man’s obvious experience and expertise.

  I shook off my concerns. Whatever the case, I just had to focus on winning this battle. Other concerns or questions could come later.

  “This is a third-badge challenge between Underleader Apex, and the challenger, Artie! This will be a three-on-three battle with no substitutions. Are both competitors ready?” One of the spectators called out.

  “All systems green here!” “Good to go,” we both responded to the woman’s call.

  “Then release your partners on my call. Three, two, one, go!”

  I hurled my piscine partner’s ball, “Go Mana!” the sphere flew from my hands, crashing into the pitch and disgorging my first battler onto the field.

  At the same time, Apex released his own partner. “On-wing Dart!” he shouted, as the black-feathered Taillow we’d been anticipating spilled out into the arena. The aggressive Flying-type let out a few chirping war cries as he took to the skies.

  That same spectator counted us in. “The match will begin on my mark. Three, two, one, mark!”

  “Weaken him!” I shouted, claiming the initiative.

  The words were barely out of my mouth before Mana was blubbering, fat tears running down her face in thick globules, before splashing onto the arena below.

  Tearful Look was the second new move Mana had learned since our previous badge battle, and it worked excellently into our plan. The attack weakened opposing Pokémon, making them less willing to fight. With enough time, Mana might be able to halve Dart’s offensive capabilities.

  Of course, Apex wasn’t about to just let that happen. “Tango one!” the underleader commanded, directing his flying partner to begin whipping up a Tailwind.

  Both moves went to completion, and while Dart was now hurtling around the battlefield at breakneck speeds, he was also showing visible reluctance to close in and attack on my supposedly-pathetic partner.

  “Push through it Dart, Whiskey one!” Of course, reluctant didn’t mean fully unwilling, and Dart hurtled forwards, tearing through the air towards Mana.

  “Hose them!” I shouted, directing Mana to let off a pretty impressive Water Gun. Unfortunately, the attack was easily evaded, Dart breaking off his attack to dive out of the way.

  He tried to maneuver around to complete his move, but Mana kept up the pressure long enough that he was forced to back off, resetting the competitor’s relative positions.

  “Keep up the pressure Dart, again!” Once more, the plucky Flying-type dove in, and once more, Mana fended him off with a spray of fluid, forcing the speedy flier to abort his attack run.

  “So that’s your game.” Apex mused from across the battlefield, as his partner began lining up for another pass. “Dart, Alpha 1, but patient. Look for a clean shot!”

  “Don’t give them time Mana! Weaken again!” Once more, Mana let her tears spill forth, the fluid leaking from her glowing eyes and pooling on the ground a few inches below her.

  Apparently, the use of the move was enough of an opening for Dart, because the Flying-type dove in, tucking his wings and diving towards my partner in a blur of sudden motion.

  “Heads up!” I shouted, warning Mana in time for her to let loose a spray of water. Unfortunately, right before the attack could reach Dart, he vanished.

  Before even a second had passed, the Flying-type reappeared again, somehow getting behind Mana and slamming into her.

  Weakened by a non-trivial amount as he was, Dart’s blow was hardly deciding, but Mana winced all the same, and some of the fluid leaking from her eyes began to take on a familiar neon tint, a sure sign that real tears were getting mixed in with her Tearful Look.

  “Mana, focus up, you’ve got this!” I did my best to reassure her. Aerial Ace, since that was surely the move Dart had just used, threw a bit of a wrench in our plan, but we weren’t without recourse just yet.

  “Whisky one! Don’t let them weaken you!” Apex shouted, directing his partner into another nosedive.

  Whisky one, that meant a head-on assault. “He’s coming from straight on!” I shouted at Mana, giving her the reassurance she needed to shoot off another Water Gun.

  I bit back a curse as Dart dodged the worst of it yet again, but a little bit of the spray washed over him, and to our combined excitement, he had to slow down for a bit as he flicked the water free from his wings. Our plan had legs, now we just had to execute.

  Except, nothing could ever be that easy. “Time for some Chaff, Dart!” Apex ordered, and the speedy Taillow let out an affirming cry. His speed accelerated even further, and for a few seconds, he was a blur, leaving afterimages in his wake.

  If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.

  Only, those weren’t afterimages. I couldn’t help the grimace that erupted on my face as the clones broke off into a variety of flight patterns, clogging the arena’s ceiling with a myriad of feathered bodies.

  Double Team was a notoriously annoying move, allowing the user to produce temporary duplicates of themself to confuse their opponent and obfuscate their movements. There were ways to work around the move, but figuring one out on the fly was going to be a challenge.

  “Mana, spray the copies!” I directed, hoping that she could reduce the number of enemies on the field.

  Her Water Gun tore out once again, but to our mutual frustration, Dart’s duplicates dodged just as well as he did.

  One of the Taillows broke formation, diving in from an off angle. “Coming in from D7!” I shouted, using the chess notation I’d had all of my partners memorize to warn Mana about the incoming threat.

  She spun with impressive adroitness, hosing down the incoming Taillow, but the duplicate simply vanished, giving Dart ample time to slam one of his wings into Mana.

  She let loose a keening cry that pierced my heart, but she wasn’t out of the battle just yet.

  “Mana, use Growl!” I ordered. The little Water-type let out an adorable, squeaking cry. The attack was nowhere near as effective as Tearful Look, but it came out much faster, and speed was paramount here.

  We couldn’t give Dart time to react, because if he wasn’t too experienced with Double Team...

  Something caught my eye, and I let out an involuntary whoop. “He’s on G1!” I shouted, pointing out the one Taillow who’d grimaced a bit and shook his head in response to the growl. A more experienced Pokémon could have duplicated the reaction across all of their clones, but apparently, Dart couldn’t pull that level of duplicity off just yet.

  “Dart, scramble!” The Taillow made a desperate dive, trying to fade away in and amongst his clones, but I had his number, now. “H3! Now G7. A5!” I kept calling out Dart’s position, allowing Mana to reacquire the speedy Flying-type each time he was about to lose her.

  “Damn, she’s got your number Dart!” Apex complained from across the field. “Get in there, then. Your discretion.”

  Dart wheeled, his eyes colored with steely determination. He rushed in, all of his clones following him. This time, we’d have no warning from Apex about the move Dart would employ.

  So which would it be, the straightforward Wing Attack? The tricky Aerial Ace? Or maybe the heretofore unseen Quick Attack, kept in reserve as a surprise mixup?

  “It’s sink or swim!” I shouted, the coded instruction causing Mana to descend a few more inches, until she was practically hugging the ground. Dart closed in, and I just didn’t have enough experience reading his body language to know what his attack of choice would be.

  Thank Arceus that in the end, it didn’t matter. We’d reached the endgame we’d been working towards this whole fight, and it was time to spring our trap.

  Dart chose Quick Attack, maybe betting that his sheer speed would allow him to outpace any response from Mana.

  And if she’d been firing off a Water Gun, he probably would have been right.

  It felt like time slowed down.

  Mana shut her eyes. She didn’t need them for this part.

  Apex shouted something, probably a warning. It wasn’t in time.

  Dart hurtled in, a corona of Normal energy surrounding him.

  And I screamed the battle’s last real command. “Now!”

  There was the sound of an impact, a small grunt of pain, and then an explosion of water, as if a boulder had been hurled into a lake.

  I saw it all, as if captured in slow-motion. Mana slammed her tail into the puddle of tears that she’d been steadily building up this whole fight, and it erupted in a huge splash that engulfed both combatants. The carefully-prepared Brine attack washed over Dart, catching up to him before he could slip away after his charge.

  The drenched Taillow spiraled out of the spray, trying bravely for a few moments to regain some altitude, but his efforts were in vain. He was able to make a mostly-controlled landing, but our opponent was an elegant Swanna no longer. No, he was a sitting Ducklett.

  “Get him Mana,” I ordered. Judging by the eager expression on my piscine partner’s face, she was more than happy to oblige.

  To his credit, Dart didn’t just throw in the towel. He charged forwards bravely, hopping towards Mana to try to get in range of a Peck or Wing Attack. Unfortunately for him, now Mana was the one with an aerial advantage. She hovered up, just out of his reach, and barraged him with Water Gun after Water Gun until, finally, the sudden bird keeled over, syn exhausted by the onslaught.

  Even better, the fight had gone on long enough that the Tailwind had petered out. Which meant the second part of our plan was primed and ready.

  “Dart is unable to battle. Underleader Apex, please choose your next Pokémon.”

  Apex recalled his partner, and after a second, I matched him. “I’m retiring Mana from the match,” I announced, to murmurs and susurration from the crowd.

  “Planning something again, are you?” Apex asked me from across the field, his tone suspicious.

  “You’ll have to find out,” I called back, before turning down to the ball in my hands. “You did it,” I whispered to her, pride and joy competing in my throat. “Your first win. The first of many. Great job out there. We’ll handle the rest.”

  The ball wiggled a few times, a faint acknowledgement, before falling still. I put it back on its place on my belt, before picking Maushold’s sphere in its place, pulling it free from the magnetic clasp.

  “Fair enough,” Apex’s words made me look back up across the battlefield. I turned to him just in time to watch him grab one of his Poké Balls from out of a jacket pocket. “Since you knocked out my partner, I’ll release first. Raptor, on wing!”

  With a screeching cry, Apex’s Staravia took to the arena, her massive winds whipping up gusts of wind that would have blown my hair about, had it not been plastered down by the helmet I was wearing.

  “We’ve got a tricky one here Raptor. Stay frosty.”

  The Staravia let out an acknowledging cry as I released my own partner.

  “Maushold, Mana won us the early game, now it’s your turn to push our advantage.”

  The trio of Normal-types chittered their acknowledgement as they faced down their foe. Their backs remained impressively straight, showing none of the nerves I knew that they were surely experiencing. The Starly line were natural predators of anything that scurries, after all, and while Tandemaus and Maushold were more than capable of fighting back and defending themselves, that sort of instinctual fear is hard to shake off.

  “Trainers, are you and your partners ready!” Our technically-not-a-referee asked.

  “Affirmative,” Apex shouted, along with a shrieking cry from his aerial partner.

  I waited a few seconds longer, making sure that Maushold wasn’t just toughing it out for my sake. We’d talked about this fight at length, and they’d assured me that when the time came, they’d be able to handle a battle against an aerial predator. So far, I wasn’t seeing any signs that they’d lied to me. “We’re ready!” I confirmed, directing my voice towards the audience.

  “Then the battle will continue in three, two, one, fight!”

  “Tango one!” Apex shouted, intent on getting his team’s speed advantage firmly secured once more. Exactly as we predicted.

  “Maushold, lock them!” I ordered, as soon as the opposing Staravia began beating their wings.

  There was a minute head tilt from Apex, confusion or curiosity maybe, before the man straightened in obvious alarm. “Belay last, Raptor, deploy Quincey two!”

  To my frustration, Raptor was able to break out of using Tailwind before my partners’ enthralling dance forced her to use the move repeatedly. Instead, she darted forwards in a wild Quick Attack. The move was uncoordinated, and wasn’t even aimed at my partners, going wide over my head. Maybe the phrasing Apex had used had told Raptor to employ the move as a defensive tool, rather than an offensive one.

  Whatever the reason, as she passed by, I saw her shudder slightly, a sure sign that the Encore had taken effect. It wasn’t optimal, but Quick Attack was pretty lacking in power compared to some of a Staravia’s other options, which meant the plan was still on.

  “Choir!” I commanded, instructing my partners to begin their song.

  The first Echoed Voice didn’t do more than make Raptor wince, which I only caught because she had to slow down after slamming into one of the mauses with a Quick Attack.

  The second made her shake her head in irritation.

  The third made my head hurt a little, and it wasn’t even aimed at me.

  By the fourth use, the barrier around us warbled slightly, flashing as it repelled the veritable wall of noise erupting from my partners.

  Before the fifth could come out, Raptor broke free from the Encore, but she still charged in, forcing her way through the auditory gauntlet. “Echo one!” I heard Apex shout distantly, as if the sound was coming from underwater.

  Raptor braced herself, a rush of energy flowing through her, before she slammed into my partners, sending them sprawling.

  I wasn’t sure what move they’d just used, but it had been devastating, sending my gray-furred partners sprawling. There was no way they’d be able to take another hit like that.

  Luckily, they didn’t have to.

  Maushold pulled themselves to their collective feet, and the fifth Echoed Voice rang out. As the move tore across the battlefield, a bunch of things happened all at once.

  I grit my teeth as the auditory assault made me lose my footing, but I caught myself on one knee, able to keep myself from completely falling.

  Apex staggered, but remained upright.

  His partner had no such luck, collapsing to the ground, unconscious.

  The barrier fizzled, and after the last notes of my partners’ dissonant chorus had echoed out, the whole thing collapsed. The Indeedee maintaining it fell on his butt and took deep, heaving breaths, obviously strained.

  Utter silence dominated the underpass. Except, that couldn’t be right, because I could see some of the spectators’ mouths moving, and I could feel the whole space rattling as a train passed by overhead.

  It wasn’t that there was no sound, it was that I couldn’t hear. The ringing in my ears was the only noise I could perceive for one second, then, two. but before too much longer, my surroundings reasserted themselves. I felt underneath my helmet, but couldn’t find any blood, so I was pretty sure my eardrums were still intact.

  I struggled to my feet, shaking my head to clear the last of the ringing. Apex was saying something as he recalled his partner, and I made out enough of it to understand that he was declaring a short intermission while we waited for the Indeedee to recover.

  I was a bit irritated, since Echoed Voice would lose its power in the interim, but it probably wouldn’t have been safe to use the move again anyways. Not while I was still inside the barrier with my partners, anyway.

  I wanted to win, make no mistake, but not enough to risk damaging my hearing. A few minutes passed, and it wasn’t like it was all bad for me. Maushold got a small breather as well, and while I wasn’t allowed to go talk to them about strategy, I was able to call out to them. “Great job Maushold. You’ve already done everything we needed, but are you good to keep going?”

  I saw them begin to nod, as if in reflex, and I spoke again. “Really think about it! The others have this, if you need to take a break.”

  My knights would take that sort of question as an insult, but Maushold had to be asked. Had to be given a chance to back off on their own terms. Had to believe that I’d trust them to make the right decision for them.

  A few moments passed, and then they nodded again, this time emphatically. Not just because I’d asked, but because they’d thought about it, and come to the conclusion themselves. That was good, because if they were going to win the upcoming fight, they were going to need to make some sacrifices.

  Finally, the Indeedee felt strong enough to put the barrier up once again, and Apex threw his final partner onto the field, a huge Unfezant with distinctive, crimson plumage decorating his entire face and chest. “Unfezant, we’re on the ropes here, but we’re not out yet. Let’s show them what we can do.”

  Our helpful spectator counted us off, announcing the continuation of our battle with the classic, “Three, two, one, begin!”

  “Hunker!” “Quebec one!”

  Our commands came out at the same time, both of us trying to claim the initiative.

  Unfortunately, there was no way for my partners to attack faster than a priority move, let alone when the enemy had an active Tailwind. That didn’t mean they couldn’t mitigate the damage, however.

  The huge Unfezant plowed into the Protect conjured by my partners, the only move they knew that acted at the same speed as a Quick Attack. He was repelled by the barrier, scratching off of it with a caw of irritation.

  It wasn’t going to buy us much time, the speedy Flying-type was already repositioning for another pass, but the small opening wasn’t going to go unused. After all, the hunker command told them to use both of the moves I’d taught them via TM.

  Unfezant plowed through my partners once more, before they could get the Substitute off, knocking one of them across the arena. They landed in a heap behind me, and when I spun to check on them they didn’t move. I turned back to the battle and saw the other two stiffen, hesitation plain in their body language. Already weakened, down to two-thirds strength, and confronted by a much faster combatant, they were about to give in.

  But we still had a chance here. It was a long shot, but I saw it. A path to victory. “You can win this!” I shouted to them, putting all of the confidence I could muster into my voice. “Trust me, I have a plan. Remember what we’ve worked on.”

  My words hung in the air, and for a half-second, things could have fallen either way. Then, the remaining two straightened, letting out chittering war cries. I could still hear the doubt in their tone, could see in their stance, now that I was more familiar with them. But they were willing to give it a shot. Now I just had to repay their trust.

  “Don’t let them plan Unfezant, hit them hard and fast!” Apex commanded.

  His partner obliged, tearing across the battlefield and coming in to launch another Quick Attack.

  I had a split second to track his intended trajectory. A bare instant where his eyes focused on his target. I barely caught it, a glance towards the larger of the two remaining mauses. “Nidoran takes!” I screamed, fighting to get my command out through my cracking voice.

  Unfezant rammed forwards, hitting the larger maus head-on. A shimmering barrier flickered for a bare instant, stalling the impact. Then, it shattered, a single maus unable to create a substantive enough shield, and Unfezant was through. He crashed into the maus, and let out a squawk of surprise as his target dissipated into motes of light.

  But I wasn’t watching that. My eyes were on the other maus, tracking their motions. Did they believe in me? Trust me enough to act on what we’d trained? Was our endgame gambit still on the table?

  My heart was in my throat, but my partners didn’t disappoint. The other maus acted. Or rather, they had been acting. Before Unfezant had even hit the barrier, said littlest maus had been swelling up, their proportionally huge mouth opening wide, and then wider, to almost grotesque proportions. Their teeth swelled and grew to match, extending to form two wicked, crushing points.

  ‘Takes.’ One piece avenging another. More viable for my knights with their greater numbers, but something I’d trained with Maushold as well. A bitter command, sacrificing one for the other.

  But we didn’t need to make real sacrifices. Not when we had substitutes to make them for us.

  The fake maus dissipated, and the real one dove, moving right before Unfezant crashed through, a desperate charge to intercept the Unfezant’s path before he could escape.

  The Flying-type was still confused, searching for his lost target. He never saw the littlest maus coming.

  My newest partner got the trajectory right, and they slammed into the far larger Pokémon, their jaws clamping down hard on Unfezant’s side. The Super Fang sunk in, and the results were spectacular.

  After all, cornered rats had to bite back somehow. Super Fang was one of those funny moves. The stronger you were? The tougher your hide? The thicker you syn? The more it hurt. The revenge of the small, of Rattata and Bidoof and Patrat and yes, of Tandemaus everywhere. You might take them out, but they weren’t going to go quietly. Their jaws would leave their mark, and Unfezant was certainly feeling that now.

  The huge Flying-type let out a cry of outrage, and buffeted his wings, letting loose a Gust that dislodged his angry passenger and caused the remaining substitute to burst into a bevy of shimmering motes.

  He tried to climb, to get out of danger, but the remaining parent broke cover, using the smallest maus’ distraction to launch their own attack. His own jaws opened wide, closing around one of Unfezant’s ankles, crunching down with devastating force.

  Another angered cry, and one foot lashed out, punting the maus free and sending them tumbling to the ground. It wasn’t a true attack, so they weren’t out of the battle yet. Both mauses were on their last legs, but Unfezant had to be severely weakened after those attacks.

  “Scatter and choir!” I called, causing both remaining mauses to erupt in raucous song. They ran away from one another, screaming their lungs out as they trundled towards opposite ends of the arena.

  “Gust, hit the whole field and end this now!” Apex shouted, ordering Unfezant to stir up whipping winds that buffeted the entire battlefield.

  For the first time ever, my helmet served a practical purpose, protecting me from the onslaught of disturbed air and flying particulates.

  My partners weren’t so lucky, both of them eating the move head-on. But it was diffuse, weakened to hit both of them at once.

  They powered through, the sound emerging from their throat redoubling as the second Echoed Voice rang out.

  Unfezant staggered, already weakened substantively by the earlier Super Fang, and his winds redoubled, his massive wings beating desperately.

  One voice fell silent. The littlest maus was carried by the winds, buffeting against the barrier and falling still. The other climbed up another octave of intensity, the last desperate cry of the final maus on the field.

  The third Echoed Voice rang out, and what it lacked in power due to lowered participation, it made up for in sheer force, the attack empowered again by consecutive uses.

  And yet, the winds continued, and the voice did not, the larger maus collapsing to the concrete floor of the underpass, completely exhausted.

  Unfezant landed, taking deep heaving breaths, trying to collect himself for the next battle.

  “The challenger’s Maushold is-” the helpful spectator called out, but before they could finish, something cut them off.

  A blistering cry. One coming from right next to me. I looked down, and saw the third maus, the one that had been hit by Unfezant’s first Quick Attack. They’d been behind me ever since then, protected from the buffeting winds by my body.

  Had they been awake this whole time? Had their family’s cries brought them back to consciousness? Whatever the case, they were here now.

  And they were letting loose the fourth Echoed Voice.

  Right next to the source of the sound, the noise was louder than a clarion, louder than the train horn from a couple of weeks ago. The sound was supernatural, a product of syn as much as physics, and it hurt to hear.

  But I was just next to the source of the sound, not the one it was pointed at.

  Unfezant screeched, taking one step back, and then two. Apex was gesticulating, presumably shouting something I again couldn’t hear. His partner tried to take to the air, his wings beating desperately, but the sound buffeted him back just like his winds had done to my partners, putting him off balance, keeping him from alighting into the skies.

  The noise began petering out, and I saw Unfezant tensing, preparing to act in the small opening the break would give him. And then the sound returned, the faltering voice redoubling. Something in the pitch and timbre changed.

  No longer was it the raucous, resonant cry of Echoed Voice, but something sharper, more primal. I hadn’t thought my partners particularly close to learning this move, but apparently, all the focus we’d paid into training with the sound-based Echoed Voice had paid off in a way I hadn’t been expecting. Because unless I missed my guess, my partner was now using Hyper Voice.

  And to devastating effect. The sound continued for one second, two, and after the third, Unfezant collapsed in a heap.

  The noise petered out, the final maus taking deep, gasping breaths, trying to recover in case their opponent got up. A second passed, then two, but the Flying-type didn’t stir.

  The barrier fell, and the spectator called out, “Underleader Apex’s Unfezant is unable to battle. Victory goes to Maushold and the challenger!”

  The sound was muted, and distant, but still so, so sweet. I knelt down, scooping up Maushold so I could spin them around. “You did it! I knew you could do it!” I burst into joyful laughter.

  I took to the field, collecting the others and holding them all close to my chest. “Oh, Lance and the rest are going to be so mad, but you did it! You beat two Pokémon all on your own! I knew you had it in you!” Exhausted as they were, I could still feel them swell up with pride in my arms.

  “They certainly did,” I looked up, to find the much taller Underleader standing a few feet away. I couldn’t make out his expression, but the way he stood made me think he was… rueful, maybe? “You came here really prepared, huh? Those were some plans you put together.”

  “Thanks,” I replied, my grin surely coming through in my voice. “But credit should go to my partners. They’re the ones who trusted in me enough to execute them.”

  “That they did,” he nodded. “And for your win, you all have earned this.” He held something out to me, a stylized pair of wings with a pin on the back. ”This is the Flight badge, and it’s proof that you’ve completed your third underleague gym challenge.”

  “Thank you,” I told him, holding out one of my arms a little bit to collect the pin. It was a bit tricky to do so while I was clutching my partners, but I wasn’t ready to let them go just yet.

  “You’re welcome kid, you earned it. You’ve got a bright future ahead of you, can’t wait until I can challenge you to a real battle.”

  The implication that this hadn’t been a real battle rankled, but I wasn’t about to let it get to me, to spoil our victory. “I’m looking forward to it,” I told the man, back straight.

  Maushold let out their own squeaks, determination and indignation muddled together, and for the first time, I was certain that their head was in the exact same space as mine. Someday, we’d show everyone just what a real battle with us actually looked like.