Three childhood friends depart from their homeland of Kalos to the land of Kanto, the birthplace of civilization in the Pokemon world. A shell of its former self, coastal villages and cities lay long abandoned following the mass migrations to the new world. Setting foot in what remains of Pallet Town, Frogadier, Braixen, and Quilladin venture forth to seek out any long lost clues as to the secrets behind Mega evolution.


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Edit: Hey there readers, doing something a bit out of the ordinary for this one. While writing this, I had in my head the idea of doing a sort of epilogue of sorts, a goofy scene where Delphox puts her massive size to practical use. At the time, I just wanted the story done and posted it as it was. Shortly afterwards, I realized that maaaaybe I should have been more patient and spent the extra time working on that scene to close the story out in a gentler and more conclusive manner. Figured another posting would garner more attention than a journal. That and this serves as the perfect excuse to make sure all the text from the story appears in the Comment section of the submission! Hope you enjoy the improved ending and the story in general!

Alternative and cringe inducing title being; "Chaos in Kanto: The Megastone Mystery!" ...Wow. WOW. Goddamn, I have really outdone myself with
that one. Holy shit.

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“I knooooooooooow.” He tried waddling out of her range, but those thin furred fingers of hers remained plopped atop his head, noogying him teasingly. “What about you? I haven’t seen you do anything particularly sneaky as a thief yet!”

“In due time,” she retorted with a pat upon his head. Stepping through the gaping hole into the Mastery Gym, the moist and heavy smell of musty wood assaulted her nostrils. A gaping hole in the roof allowed copious amounts of sunlight to filter in, moss and mushrooms cropping up where the sun’s rays struck the floor. The planks of hardwood creaked with the fox’s every footfall, layers of dust and grime clinging to the bottom of her padded toes. “Would you look at this place…” Jaw agape, the weight of history weighed down heavily upon Braixen’s shoulders. This was where it happened. Nidorina’s Mastery Gym. This was the backdrop, the setting, for those bedtime stories she never tired of hearing. It was admittedly starker than she had imagined it to be.

There was the entrance, the battleground, and Nidorina’s podium. Chipped and worn chunks of marble served as the boundaries for her proving grounds, filled in with a loose layer of sand and gravel. Only the hardiest of weeds had managed to sprout through its surface.

Braixen gasped as her eyes drifted up towards the podium at the rear of the gym. Black veins had been burned into it, tearing it asunder and knocking back the statue once positioned atop it. An inky darkness lurked just beneath, the Mastery Gym’s true heart no doubt. “Of course it’s a statue of herself,” the fox smirked. She scowled at Nidorina’s likeness leaned up against the wall, back of its head caught against the hole it had punched into the wall during its descent. Its milky white eyes shone in the reflected sunlight. Behind it, veins continued to arc up along the wall towards the hole in the ceiling, rafters cracked and blown back up towards the sky. “Raichu! That’s her handiwork!” The fox smiled giddily to herself. To think, she was standing right where her childhood hero once had! A lass of legend who took down Nidorina’s foul empire singlehandedly!

Frogadier tugged lightly on one of the many vines snaking down from the hole in the roof, sending a Butterfree perched atop a rafter flittering off into the forest canopy looming high overhead. His gaze darted back and forth between the pulpy rope and the podium. “Assuming there’s a hoard of evo stones down there, that would explain all the Victreebels.”

“Think that’s where we should start looking around then?” Stooped over besides the frog, Quilladin did his best to wear a brave face. His smile kept fading no matter how hard he tried to keep his lips creased upwards. From beneath the podium, Nidorina’s legacy glared back at the diminutive Grass type from within the darkness. “Frogadier?” The response he received was a hurried series of pats against his back, accompanied by creaking of the floorboards. The grime covered planks of wood whined under the weight of an unfamiliar gait.

With her back to her companions, Braixen’s brows furrowed as she brandished her wand. The sound of a sword slipping free from its sheath resonated reassuringly behind her. Sand shifting between her toes, the Fire type had been forced onto the proving grounds to maintain a safe distance between herself and the trio of Normal types that approached with ill intent. “Looks like Nidorina’s influence lingers yet,” she mused aloud, Frogadier and Quilladin rushing to their friend’s side.

“You two know what needs to be done,” the Rattatta plainly stated, nodding back towards his support.

“Well aren’t you blunt and to the point,” the frog replied, warily eyeing the intruders as they drew their weapons.

“The less said the better.” Going through the motions, the purple bucktoothed mouse kept to his script, mindful not to divulge who decided or what had prompted the showdown.

“Dibs on the rolly polly one,” the flop eared rabbit sneered, cracking his bronze knuckles together.

Arm held out before her, a weak purple flame just struggling to maintain its form had coalesced upon the tip of the frail fox’s wand. “We’ll be sticking together, mind you.” Tiny licks of the Will o’ Wisp tapered off Braixen’s wand, slowly surrounding the adventurers from Kalos with a protective field of purple flames that had gradually grown in size and magnitude.

“Quaint.” The Rattatta ringleader smacked the back of his hand against Furret’s shoulder, the contents of the pouches lined along the pale ringtail’s belt clinking softly.

Furret flicked open a pouch and cautiously poked his furred fingers down inside. Clasping his digits together, his hand reemerged with three throwing knives nestled between his fingertips. His lanky arm curled back behind his shoulder, the Normal type’s emerald eyes focused intently on the Fire, Grass, and Water type that watched on worriedly.

“Scatter!” Darting into the field of flame, Frogadier winced as the embers licked at his cloak. His moist skin dried and cracked painfully in the searing ambient heat. Out of the corner of his eye he noted Braixen following his lead, veering off into the other direction while the flames contorted and rearranged around her fluffy form to allow safe passage. He sighed at the sight of Quilladin simply dropping to the ground, pulling off his best Defense Curl.

Furret hurled his arm forward, the three knives whistling while they sliced through the air towards their intended targets. The frog opted to burn rather than bleed, throwing himself into the flames. He rolled around on the sandy ground to extinguish them the instant his cloak erupted in a flash of purple. The fox barely sidestepped the sharpened metal, losing a tuft of fur poking out of her prodigious ears. And the… chestnut-turtle thing remained hunkered down, Furret’s blade harmlessly bouncing off his thick hide.

“Like I said before, dibs on the rolly polly!” Bounding forward Buneary hipped, hopped, and triple jumped over the entire fiery playing field. Twirling in midair, he angled his body down towards the ground on a collision course with the stationary Quilladin. Eager to crack that green chestnut whatever the hell it was wide open, his right arm glowed red, Focus Punch ready to be deployed. His brass knuckles shattered upon impact, Quilladin’s elastic armor bending beneath the blow before bouncing it back in full at its source. “Yeeargh!” Buneary yelped, his right shoulder buckled out of its socket from the recoil.

“Braixen!” Disengaging his Defense Curl, Quilladin rolled backwards and onto his feet. Waddling forward he bashed his head into the rabbit’s chest, sending him stumbling back into the Will o’ Wisps. With a swish of her wand the fox answered her friend’s call, a bevy of purple flames converging upon Buneary’s position and smashing together in a bright and fiery purple explosion.

When the smoke cleared, Buneary lay devastated on the hard and reflective ground, the sand beneath his feet melting into glass. Fur singed and smoldering, he was out for the count.

“You could pose a problem,” Furret hmmed to himself, gaze settling upon the cheering Grass type. Dropping to all fours the ring tail rushed forward, kicking up clouds of sand as he went. Tucking his head in against his chest, he tumbled forward. Undulating his spine, Furret’s Rollout continued to pick up speed as he barreled forward, brushing off the wisps that sizzled against the layer of air circulating around his body.

“Quilladin, eyes ahead!” Frogadier belted out, staying low to the ground to avoid the fires flickering overhead.

“Eeep!” He hastily curled back into his defensive shell, an instant before Furret slammed into him. The little armored chestnut was sent flying, his balled up form denting into the back wall of Nidorina’s gym before sinking to the ground with a meteoropic impact. Uncurling his form, Quilladin grunted when he found himself staring up at the ceiling, rays of sunshine tickling at his eyes and nose. “G-guys?” He wriggled uselessly, the planks of wood and nails crumpled beneath him pinning his back into the floor.
The long tailed Normal type’s emerald eyes focused intently on the perceived threat.

“Leave him for now,” Rattatta yelled out. “Focus on those who can still fight back first and foremost.” Those crimson eyes of his locked gazes with the frog’s yellow ones. Purple curled tail swaying back and forth, Rattatta dove into the proving grounds. Every swing of his heavy tail lurched his body this way and that, deftly maneuvering around the floating purple landmines.
Frogadier followed his lead, belching streams of water onto his arms while he zigged back and forth. Steam wafted off his form every time the wisps licked against his body.

“Why hasn’t she dispelled these flames yet?” The purple mouse pondered as he closed in on his prey. “They’re as much a hindrance to her companions as they are to us.” He swung down with his sword, kicking up a wall of sand and gravel that scraped against Frogadier’s legs.

“You’re going to have to run out of knives sometime!” Braixen barked. She skidded upon the sand, desperately avoiding one volley of projectiles after another.

“That would explain it,” Rattatta smirked, his coworker keeping the fox far too preoccupied to wield her spells effectively. He contorted his body around the Will o’ Wisps and swung horizontally, the sound of steel clanging against steel registering in his ears. The frog held his blade out inches before his chest, his grip shaky and weak.

Committed to a long distance approach, Furret emptied his pockets. One by one, nearly his entire supply of throwing knives whisked by the fox.
Panting, Braixen caught her breath when the torrent of blades slowed to a trickle. Her eyes darted to the corner of her sockets, wincing at the sight of Frogadier struggling to survive. The brief lapse in her attention did not go unnoticed by her opponent.

Sword quivering, the frog’s arms wobbled uneasily as his own blade was pressed against his chest. The Rattatta’s strength was nothing to scoff at. Goaded on by an all-powerful sense of self preservation, Frogadier’s neck bulged but for a moment before his cheeks puffed out. “I’m not playing dirty, just smart,” he rationalized to himself when he spat out a burst of Water Gun from between his lips directly into his opponent’s eyes.

Rattatta hissed in response, the condensed burst of liquid scratching painfully at his peepers. Eyes clenched shut and buck teeth biting down into his lip, he forced his weapon closer and closer against his target’s chest.

In between strained breaths with the Water type’s neck pressed tightly against his chest, he forced out another Water Gun. The cool liquid drenching his hands dripped down onto his sword. As it collected and coated his blade, Frogadier put his underutilized Water Pulse to good use. The ripples pulsing upon his weapon sent innumerable vibrations rumbling through Rattatta’s own. As his opponent’s grip faltered, the once thief turned warrior forced his aching wrists and arms forward. That last burst of strength freed Rattatta’s sword from its owner, the polished steel twirling up and over the mouse’s shoulder.

Sensing an opening, Braixen forced the flames between the two to part with a flick of her wrist.

Arms too tired to lift his own blade skyward, Frogadier settled for slamming the back of his fist into the side of Rattatta’s skull. Smacking onto the ground at his feet, the mouse’s curled tail papped loudly against the sand behind him. Gulping down gasps of air the Water type hurriedly distanced himself from his stirring foe, his tired and aching arms dragging the blade through the sand.

Without so much as a sneer or a smarmy quip, Furret wordlessly rushed the vixen. The empty pouches upon his belt bounced softly against his waist, his last remaining knife held firmly in hand. By the time the fox became cognizant of his approach, it was too late.

I won’t get away in time, her mind yelped as she stumbled back, the Normal type’s running start letting him overtake the distance she put between them in seconds. “Here goes everything,” she whined, waving her wand along the length of her body as the ringtail leapt towards her. A furious torrent of Will o’ Wisps swirled between them, basking both Pokemon in a blinding purple glow.

The show of light failed to discourage Furret in the slightest, stretching his lanky arm forward through the flames. He felt his mark’s flesh pressing back against his weapon. Fingers curled around the smooth wooden grip of his knife, he twisted it into her neck to finish… wait a minute. Furret’s eyes narrowed. His knives had metal hilts, not a wooden ones. When his eyes adjusted to the fading light he found himself equipped with the fox’s wand, harmlessly twirling its soft edge into her flesh.

As much as Braixen wanted to revel in the flawless execution of her magic trick, her furred fingers tapping against the knife’s blade held firmly in hand, she could see her volunteer sorely missed what rightfully belonged to him. Thief she might have been, the fiery fox just wasn’t comfortable taking what didn’t belong to her. So, ever so kindly her right arm lunged forward and returned the knife to its rightful owner, sinking it deep into Furret’s shoulder.

Furret’s composure faltered momentarily, stokes of anger flaring in his eyes as he yelled out in pain. Stabbing aside, she was within striking range and he’d be a fool to pass up the opportunity. His long tail wrapped around her legs, locking her in place. Yanking back on his ringed limb, he sent her flailing, the back of her head smacking against the coarse ground.

Mouthing curses, Frogadier stared down Rattatta as the mouse rose to his feet.

Sporting a nasty shiner, the fur around the Normal type’s left eye had taken on a black hue. “You’ve lasted longer than I thought you would, I’ll give you that.” Shaking his head, half of his vision was still fuzzy. “But this is the end of the line.” The mouse dashed towards Frogadier, who held his sword out before him in anticipation. Nearing his foe, Rattatta stamped his feet into the ground and skid to a halt. A wall of sand washed over the frog, who swung feebly at the air now that his own eyes were rendered useless. Plodding forward, Rattatta’s jaw opened wide, the muscles beneath his cheeks stretched taut.

No, no, no! Frogadier frantically rubbed at his eyes, one hand dedicated to restoring his vision while the other swung his weapon to keep his foe at bay.
Back and forth, back and forth. Rattatta’s pupils bobbed to and fro in his socket, following the swing of the blade. At the end of a swing, sword hanging frozen in the air for all of a second, he clamped his buck teeth down on the steel, cracks and fissures sprouting on its surface. Clenching his teeth, the mouse’s Super Fang carved through the sword like butter.

“What the-”

Lifting himself up with his knees, Rattatta smashed his forehead against the frog’s. His brutal headbutt knocked the Water type clear off his feet, sending the warrior into submission.

“Frogadier! Braixen!” Craning his neck up as far as he was able, Quilladin watched on fearfully as his friends went down. “T-think!” He hurriedly patted his nubby hands against his head. “There’s gotta be some sort of spell I can use!” The Grass type’s lips quivered when he spied the Furret standing over Braixen toss aside her wand and pull his own knife out of his shoulder, drops of blood staining against her dirtied fur. “I’m the mage now,” he reminded himself while his voice began to waver, “b-bending nature to my will!” Augh but there was hardly any nature in here to begin with! With a pathetic pout, Quilladin looked up to vines dangling down from the rafters. Wait, that was it! Fingers wiggling, he beckoned them towards him. Drawing in a deep breath, he yelled out as loud as he could, anything to distract the two ne’er do wells from harming his friends. “Hey!” Snappy quips weren’t really his thing. “We’re not done here, not yet!”

Furret glared at the short statured nuisance, lengths of ivy reaching out towards the little chestnut and wrapping round his limbs.

“You want to deal with him on or should I?” Rattatta grumbled, dragging Frogadier behind him by the cuff of his cloak.

Splayed out on the ground before him, the fox’s arms were pinned beneath Furret’s paws. “Those defenses of his are problematic.” With a forceful tug, the vines yoinked their only remaining threat out of his crater, broken planks of wood shuffling off the Grass type’s back. “I’ll keep him at bay while you tie up these loose ends.” Furret nudged his foot against the vixen’s side, shuffling her along the ground towards the approaching purple mouse.

“Understood.” Rattatta thrust his arm forward, unceremoniously dropping the frog atop the fox. Both of them let out painfuls oofs.

Back on his feet, Quilladin’s tail swung to and fro behind him, unsuccessfully trying to shake off the leafy ropes clinging to him. “You can stop helping now, ivy.” Before him, the Grass type could hear the sound of the Furret’s paws pattering against the sand as his pace picked up. “Uh oh.” Curling up into a ball, Quilladin reinitiated his Defense Curl. I can’t let him hit me with the same trick again, Braixen and Frogadier need me! Maybe if I can bounce him back… The armored little green ball rolled forward, the mage aiming to cancel one Rollout attack with another! Sprigs of ivy continued to latch onto his plating, holding him in place.

Furret followed suit, dropping once more to all fours and bounding forward. Tucking his head in against his chest, the Normal type barreled onward, setting a bead on his stationary target.

Quilladin spun faster and faster, determined to break free and save his friends! His armored shell scraped against the wooden floor, splinters and nails streaming behind him while the planks beneath him were sanded down.

“Now then, what to do with you two?” Grunting, the vision in Rattatta’s left eye still hadn’t fully returned. The mouse’s head turned down towards the two captives, his coworker vanished into the extended edges of his vision to deal with one last nuisance. Those Victreebels had proven reliable enough disposal units in the past, their stomachs capable of digesting damn near anything.

By this time the determined little mage had worn a groove into the floor, a steady gush of sawdust trailing behind him as he rolled in place. That Furret would plow into him any second, Quilladin had to break free! In quick succession, one green tendril after another latching onto him snapped, allowing him to inch further and further forward. With an explosive crack the final vine tore away, sending the Grass type rocketing forward. Chunks of marble exploded into chalky clouds of dust when Quialldin tore through the proving ground’s dividers. Wispy contrails following behind him, he roared back onto the battlefield. For an instant his acceleration dropped to zero, like he had slammed straight into a wall, forcing him to a halt. Instead of ingratiating himself into this wall however, Quilladin was bounced back gently, whatever it was he bopped into bearing the brunt of the ricochet.

The Victreebel are more responsive to live bait though, Rattatta reminded himself. Better not to risk it. Clasping a hand around the hilt of the frog’s shattered sword, he placed the broken tip of the blade against the Water type’s neck. What sounded like two stones clacking together in a thunderous clap rung painfully in his ears, prompting him to sneak a peek at his coworker’s latest handiwork. Damn. His view of Furret was still clouded by his bad eye. Turning his head slightly, his limited vision was greeted by the sight of a striped ball of fur blazing through the air towards him. Rattatta’s muzzle crumpled under the impact, his head nearly pulling itself off his shoulders. He noiselessly crumpled to the sandy ground, while Furret slammed into the wall behind him. The striped Normal type’s body unfurled itself from its hole in the plaster, his unconscious form slouching to floor.

Pulling himself off of Braixen, Frogadier’s bleary gaze settled on the Grass type waddling over towards them. “That wasn’t a very magelike like way to come out on top, you know,” he chuckled. Spying Braixen’s wand sinking into the sand, the frog reached over and plucked it up between his webbed fingers.

“I… you see… well I won,” Quilladin pouted.

“He’s just teasing.” With a smile, Braixen grabbed the blue outstretched hand held out before her. Her swishing tail brushed gently against Frogadier when he placed her wand against her padded palm. Back on her feet, she quickly got to patting out the sand caught in her robe. “You performed admirably, Quilladin.” Her furred fingers tussled his horns once more, prompting him to squirm beneath her grasp. “Be proud of that!”

“Seriously, way to kick butt out there little guy. You really came through in a pinch!” Frogadier’s eyes glanced at the broken sword hilt resting in Rattatta’s palm. “And uh… sorry about your sword.”

“That’s okay!” The armored Grass type trotted over to where his froggy friend and mousey foe had kicked up mounds of sand, revealing patches of hard gravel. “I can just grab a new one!” Leaning over, Quilladin grabbed hold of Rattatta’s sword, wobbling it high overhead.

“Hey hey hey be careful with that! The blade’s bigger than you are.” With a sigh, Frogadier jogged after their rolly polly kinda sorta mage.

“I’ll just get to doing what we came here to do while you two get that sorted out.” Continuing to brush off her robe, Braixen made her way towards the podium at the back of Nidorina’s Mastery gym. Here’s hoping there are no further interruptions, she mused upon walking past the downed Buneary. No matter how hard the fox tried to keep her sight trained on the podium and what lurked beneath it, her eyes always drifted up towards the crater and indent Quilladin had left in the floor and back wall. “You really took one heck of a hit for us, didn’t you?” she mouthed quietly.

“Nuh uh, I can totally wield this!”

“Careful careful CAREFUL. AHH!”

Too unwieldy given the Grass type’s size, Rattatta’s sword teetered forward, causing Quilladin to faceplant into the sandy ground. His froggy friend leapt back as the blade swung forward, slicing through the air where Frogadier had once been and tinking softly against the ground.

Unsuccessfully stifling a giggle, the Fire type turned her gaze towards the mark her friend had left near the ceiling, just one last time. As her pupils descended back towards the ground below, Nidorina’s statue came into view. Where the back of the statue’s head crumpled against the wall, something sparkled in the soft sunlight. “That’s unexpected.” Braixen’s ears perked up at the peculiar sight and she moved in closer to investigate. Where the plaster fell away from Nidorina’s skull, instead of revealing a hollow cavity, the fox was treated to the sight of a gargantuan milky white stone that lay tucked inside.

“What were you hiding behind those beady little eyes of yours?” Was it a pearl? Even if this was all that the trio came back home with, something this size could keep them content for years! She brushed her fingers against its smooth surface, remaining locked in place when the smoky whirls upon its exterior contorted together. Ribbons of orange bled out into the stone from where her furred fingers pressed against it, mixing with the milky whiteness. Before her very eyes the stone transformed into something resembling a brilliant orange marble, a single whorl twirling from top to bottom within its translucent shell. “Noooooooo,” she laughed in disbelief to herself. This stone, Braixen had seen it before. They all had. It looked identical to the gaudy jewelry that the upper crust back in Kalos had taken to wearing. Those tacky baubles the Venusaur, Charizard, and Blastoise families wore were practically pebbles compared to this thing!

“Frogadier, Quilladin, I think you might want to see this!” She barked out. “So Nidorina did know a thing or two about Mega evolution after all…” the fox hrmmed aloud, patting her hand against the stone. “Did she just not know how to use it?” At her touch, the stone glowed brilliantly, its soft light spilling out from its spherical confines and onto her fur. The orange light snaked up her arm, coating her in a second skin that tingled and crackled with energy. Looks more like it was just never meant for her, Braixen corrected herself. Tail drooping down worriedly between her legs, the vixen’s glowing arm bulged in size, becoming laughably disproportionate compared to the rest of her. Her monstrously thick fingers curled around the entirety of Nidorina’s statue, the gentle glow now wrapped around her entire body.

Eyes wide with wonder, Quilladin’s fingers loosened their grip on Rattatta’s sword.

“Well,” Frogadier gulped as the fox’s shimmering silhouette spread up and out, “she wasn’t wrong.”

As the vixen’s body reachieved equilibrium, so far as proportions were concerned, gradual and subtle changes began to reshape her form. Arms grew thick with fluff while the fur curled up around her waist flattened, creeping all the way down to her ankles. The tufts of fur poking out of her ears thickened in size and… ‘Oww!” Braixen growled when her head punched another hole through the ceiling, portions of the rafters and ceramic tiles dropping at her feet. That hole widened as she continued to ascend, her broad shoulders eventually coming to lift the entire ceiling up with her. Wrapped around her neck like a collar, the gargantuan vixen’s fingers tugged at the roof. It tore to pieces when it crunched between her padded fingertips.

“C-come on, Quilladin,” the Water type nervously advised as the rubble started raining down and punching holes through the floor. Arms wrapped around the armored Grass type’s shoulders, he dragged him towards the sole entrance and exit out of the dilapidated Mastery Gym. “I get the feeling now might be a good time to relocate.” Beneath Braix-, no. In the fading glow, it was clear to Frogadier she may as well be referred to Delphox now. Beneath Delphox’s heavy feet, the hardwood floor warped and splintered, her padded soles and toes leaving noticeable indents. When the duo pulled themselves out of there, the vixen’s waist was level with where the ceiling once had been, her thick legs starting to push out against the walls.

“This…” Delphox turned her head side to side, not entirely certain what to make of the blanket of trees that now only came up to her tummy, “Could take some getting used to.” Her eyes drifted up towards the horizon. All of Viridian City and Pallet Town was laid bare, there was nothing she couldn’t see. Beyond them both, the ocean sparkled like a sapphire, curving out beyond the horizon. “The view is nice at least,” she giggled. Some rustling at her feet signaled those broad ears of hers to swivel towards the source. Letting loose a sigh of relief that stripped trees bare, she waved at the Water and Grass type bumbling out into the overgrown streets. “So this is what Mega evolution is capable of,” she mused. Mega evo stones but the size of marbles had allowed those ancient families to dramatically alter their very forms. Mega evo stones the size of what Nidorina had hoarded away, and that Delphox had activated, well… it probably wouldn’t be too much of a stretch to say even the gods themselves would take notice of the changes that could bring about!

“Did you just Mega evolve, Braixen?” Quilladin piped up, hands cupped around his mouth.

“I think so?” Given that neither her mother nor father had ever hit such exorbitant sizes upon evolving the plain old fashion way, it was probably safe to say it was Mega evolution’s doing. “Heh, and it’s Delphox now.”

“Got it, Braixen!”

Rolling her eyes, the vixen utterly failed to contain the goofy grin spreading wide upon her muzzle.

“…You sure you’re alright?” Frogadier timidly inquired.

Delphox’s smile softened as she propelled herself forward, her massive legs cutting through what remained of Nidorina’s legacy without resistance, those fluffy foxy shins knocking aside rafters, walls, and columns with ease. The Mastery Gym collapsed in on itself after all of two steps, burying their foes beneath tons of rubble and history. Toes splayed out, she set her foot down gently, flanking the frog with two padded digits as tall as he was. “I’m fine, I’m fine.” She bunched her toes together slowly, nudging against Frogadier with a black wall of warm soft fur. “Thanks for asking, though.”

Letting out a pathetic ribbit, Frogadier’s moist skin went dry, the Water type feeling as if he could spontaneously combust any second. “Just making sure, is all.”

Arching her brows, the now Fire and Psychic type opted for a much more subtle approach, courtesy of her newly acquired psionic powers. Curling her fingers against her palm, a dull energy circulated along her furred digits. With a flick of her finger, she directed the energy towards the frog at her feet.

A red hue burned itself into Frogadier’s normally dark blue cheeks, he could feel Delphox’s fingers curled around his own. Shoving his hands into his cloak’s pockets, he very shyly clasped them back.

“So what do we do now?” Quilladin inquired, bending his head as far back as it would go, nearly tipping over onto his back.

“Our Lapras ferry isn’t going to be back for a couple days,” Delphox replied with a shrug. “I figure we can explore Kanto a bit more before then, check out what’s left of Pewter City and Mt. Moon. Hehe,” her tail swished mischievously behind her, uprooting the trees behind her in the torrent of wind she kicked up. “Given we already switched roles once, mind if we swap em’ around again? I feel like I’d make a pretty good warrior now!” She furrowed her brows menacingly, twiddling her toes against the cracking ground to drive the point home.

“Ooooh oooh ooh I want to be our thief then!” Quilladin giddily circled round Delphox’s towering toes, bopping into Frogadier’s back and tugging at his cloak.

The Water type simply stared up up up at the vixen’s looming face, a self-assured grin plastered across her mug. “Well it’s not like we’re gonna say no.”

---

“I don’t see what you’re fussing about Frogadier, I had a ton of fun being a mage!” Waddling beside the multihued frog, Quilladin rubbed his clawed fingers against his favorite souvenir from their trip to Pewter City. His haul from the fossil beds lining the cliffs nearby had been a tiny Omanyte shell, crusted thick with layers of bedrock. Droplets of water collected upon its muddied surface, a damp and heavy fog smothering them like a wet blanket.

The former thief, then warrior, and now mage sighed and kicked at the ground. A fist sized stone bounced off the top of his webbed feet, clinking noisily against the grooves in the beaten path before disappearing into the fog. “Like I know any good spells!” Letting out a puff of air, the moisture around Frogadier’s lips condensed together into a bubble. It floated aimlessly into the air above them, drifting out of sight and popping loudly against the craggy mountain pass leading up to Mt. Moon. Geodudes hugging the sides of the pass murmured to themselves at the unfamiliar sound. “Fat lot of good a Bubble will do us. That and it seems a little,” his eyes bounced to the sides of his sockets, peering back behind them, “unnecessary? With the way Delphox has been carrying us through every encounter, it’s like, why bother?” The duo’s footsteps echoed softly between the slanted rock walls.

“Someone’s a little jealous!” Quilladin giggled, eliciting a soft bap against his cheek. Rubbing at his cheek, he swatted back at Frogadier. “So maybe she’s a better warrior than the both of us, it’s no biggie! We’re a team after all, we work best together!”

“You’re stretching the definition of ‘teamwork’ there a little don’t you think?” Hard to call it that when one person does all the work. Head cocked to the side, the Water type let out a wry laugh. Beside him, the rolly polly Grass type had taken a shining to his woefully oversized thief cloak. Trailing behind him on the beaten path, it dragged along a layer of dust and pebbles that nipped at Quilladin’s heels. “Hmmm?”

Bumping against the frog’s side, the turtle chestnut thing drew his dagger and waved it threateningly at the fog rolling out before them.

“What are you-” The echoes bouncing between the walls became muddled and overlapped on themselves. Even as both Quilladin and Frogadier came to a halt, pebbles and puddles continued to tink and splash under some unseen gait.

A multitude of silhouettes materialized in the mist, growing in size as they advanced upon the two adventurers. “Never seen the likes of you before,” the Growlithe’s dry and raspy voice rang out. A sprig of Pecha berries jutted out from between teeth, its tip glowing hot like a candle in the dark.

Lips curled down into a pouty frown, Quilladin clung the Omanyte fossil close to his chest.

“What’s it to you?” Frogadier croaked back, eyeing the Houndours and Poocheyenas that followed behind him with distrust.

“Now now now, no need to be so defensive,” Growlithe smirked with a shrug of his shoulders, casually strolling towards the Kalos natives. “We’re an understanding lot here, not like we’re gonna hold it against you that you didn’t know this road has a toll.”

“Pardon our ignorance.” Sincerity drained dry, every word that came tumbling out of the frog’s mouth was blunt and uninviting. For every step Growlithe took towards them, both he and Quilladin took two steps back.

Not so very sneakily, the armored Grass type tucked the fossil into his pocket. “H-how much?”

“Heh.” Wooden clubs smacked loudly against padded palms as Growlithe’s party advanced. “Depends. How much you carrying?”

Arching his brows, Frogadier let out a tired sigh. “Welp, this has dragged on long enough.” Hand held high above his head, he snapped two webbed fingers together, his damp digits sliding against one another noisily. The fog all around them dissipated, the Water type’s Haze spell called off. Okay, have to admit. He couldn’t help but smile when the Fire and Dark type’s heads started to tilt back. That was a pretty good setup. He leaned back against a foxy toe as tall as he was and slapped a hand against it.

Gobsmacked, Growlithe and company’s jaws began to strain when they started to take in the sheer size of the colossus smiling down at them. All this time, she was hiding in the mist?! The vixen’s fluffy legs brushed against both sides of the mountain pass, house sized boulders caught in the knots of her fur.

“Delightful as it’s been making your acquaintance,” Delphox rumbled, lifting up a paw. Its shadow swallowed the highwaymen as it hovered above them, its black fur and padded soles coming to replace the cloudy sky. “We’re kind of in a bit of hurry.” Setting it down gently, a torrent of displaced air blew out from beneath it. Violent howls of wind that stripped the stone walls bare accompanied the rumblings of her footfall. “The Clefairys and Clefables only dare to venture out come sunset, and Mt. Moon is still a ways off. Can’t have you wasting precious daylight for us.” Scrunching her toes together, fissures spread out from beneath her furry digits. Lifting back up her paw, Growlithe and his entire crew lay flattened, their konked out forms pressed down into their own personal craters.

Only one survivor remained standing amongst the bandits, a Poocheyena who had had the sweet fortune to be spared courtesy of splayed out Delphox toes. Shivering, he dared to look up at the Mega evolved Pokemon. A flash of her teeth and swish of a tail that sent an avalanche of boulders barreling down behind her was the response he received. “C-carry on,” he whimpered. Tossing his club aside, the Poocheyena knelt down and scraped his hands along the muddied ground. Closing his eyes, the Dark type dabbed his fingers against his eyelids, drawing swirls atop them before laying down.

“Sneak sneak sneak…” Quilladin sneaked aloud towards their fallen foes, showing his best friends how true thievery was done! Rustling through pants pockets and vests, the Grass type had an astounding one hundred percent steal rate!

Nestling the back of his head against the furred wall of flesh behind him, Frogadier ribbited in surprise as it surged forward like a wave, nudging him along.

“Unnecessary?” Toes spread out around the frog, Delphox clenched him gently between two. “Is that what’s been weighing on your mind lately?”

“Well… it’s not like I’m good for anything else at this point. I mean sure,” he waved his hand about his wrist, swirls of fog gathering around his fingertips. “The parlor tricks are nice and all, but it’s not like they make all that much of a difference. You don’t need our help to win every fight there is or see all that there is to see anymore.”

“Very true.” Delphox set her hands upon her knees and leaned forward, her warm crimson eyes washing over him gently. “But just because I can, doesn’t mean I want to. I’d much rather share those sights and fights with you and Quilladin than monopolize them for myself.” With a stifled giggle, purple ribbons of Psychic energy collected around her fingertips.

Frogadier croaked softly when he felt a manifestation of her hand clasp tightly around his own. “Alright, alright, alright,” he repeated while trying his best to hide his shy smile.

“Delphox, Frogadier, look what I found!”

Quilladin bumbling towards them, Frogadier’s face flushed red as furred fox toes curled around him. “So much for subtlety,” he mumbled into her form.

Balanced between his nubby arms, the Grass type’s haul of loot jostled dangerously in his flimsy grasp. “I found gold coins, a bat, a bracelet, some pants, a-”

“Q-quilladin.” Wiggling himself free from Delphox’s embrace, the frog plodded over towards his thieving friend. “Quilladin put those back where you found them.”