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What Gods Leave	By : Twill Category: Pokemon > General Views: 3361 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Pokemon, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 2
- 3
Claude looked across the sprawling fields, his wide hat offering fair protection against the relentless sun overhead. The heat only worsened as summer approached, and it already looked to be a warm year. Fields of berries, wheat, vegetables, anything they could convince to grow sprouted across to the horizon, broken up by large unpainted barns.
While the job didn't pay well, his only responsibilities involved looking after the dozens of pokemon that worked the fields. He found that better than his paltry wage. Only the rich or lucky owned a pokemon of their own, but he found the next best thing. On Sundays, when let out for exercise, some of the more playful ones even took to following him around.
He leaned back in his chair atop a small observation tower. Well, maybe tower was a bit of a stretch. The rough wooden construction only stood a few feet off the ground, but it let him see over the plants and watch the pokemon working in his area of the fields. Water types misted the plants in a glistening spray, others dug up weeds or cleared debris. What he wouldn't give to own just one of the magnificent creatures.
A man in dusty trousers and a half-laced shirt waved to catch Claude's attention. “Found another one acting up. I left it outside 'C'. Take care of it, will ya?”
Dammit. Claude waved to the man. “Yeah.” He got a wave in response and the man walked off towards the rawst fields.
Not another. Pokemon never attacked, or really made any kind of fuss for that matter. Now four in almost as many days? No point in trying to put it off. Claude climbed down from his post and headed towards barn C.
Since pokemon could only move so far from their binding shard, barns littered the estate. They added shard-dust to the pokemon's food to weaken their powers as well. Here in the fields, they didn't need to fight, and it gave the farmhands a small measure of safety. Escape was impossible.
Still early in the season, most of the crops barely reached Claude's waist. The pomeg berry stalks he passed by looked frail, but even a hard storm wouldn't damage the growing stalks. A floral sweetness always lingered around the berry crops.
As he approached the barn, he saw the Vaporeon chained by its front paws to a post, forcing it to stand awkwardly on its hind legs, long graceful tail left to kick up small clouds of dust. He recognized her.
“I'm sorry girl. I warned you. I told you the other day that if you kept acting up the others would notice. Nothing I can do for you now.” He took the coiled whip from inside the barn door and let it unroll, hefting the rough grip and giving it a few hesitant flicks.
The chained Vaporeon stilled. She looked over her shoulder the best she could at him, large black eyes afraid, and was that – anger?
Claude glanced around. He noticed other nearby pokemon had paused to watch. Not watch, stare. Azumaril, Floatzel, Leavanny – their calculating eyes put him on edge. They wouldn't attack, but...
“Sorry girl. I don't want to do this, you know I don't.” He reached out to pat the Vaporeon on the head, but she turned and hissed at him. Brave little thing. “Sorry,” he whispered again. He couldn't even remember the last time he had to punish a pokemon. What had gotten into her?
Stalling only made the anticipation worse, and Claude raised the whip. With a snap of his wrist, he brought the heavy braided cord down across Vaporeon's back. The heavy slap of leather on flesh did nothing to dampen Vaporeon's shriek. The cry twisted his stomach but didn't stop him raising the whip again.
Vaporeon barely had time to refill her lungs before the whip sliced another bloody line across her back. She howled again, a piercing, desperate noise. Claude looked down at the pitiful sight, and couldn't bring himself to continue.
He let the whip fall to the ground and gingerly approached the whimpering pokemon. It shied away from him as best it could, attempting a weak hiss. Blood leaked across the pokemon's vibrant blue hide.
“I said you had to settle down and stop causing issues. C'mon, let me get you free of that thing.” He reached for the chains binding Vaporeon's paws, but the pokemon attempted to bite his fingers. Claude reeled back.
“Porrrrr!” She put up a fierce act, but her dark eyes wavered, fighting back another whimpering cry.
“I know if hurts, girl. Don't fight now, let me get those chains off you. I'm not gonna hurt you anymore, okay? Be easy.” He approached cautiously, and she acquiesced, allowing him to give her a gentle stroke on the head before he took the keys from his belt and undid the chains.
Vaporeon slumped to the ground, her frilled body shaking as thick rivulets of blood dripped to the dusty earth. Claude stroked her head, odd how frail she now looked. He wished he could do more, but with shard dampening her powers, the wounds would take time to heal.
“Here, you're done for the day. Let's get you inside. You can rest while those heal up a bit.” He patted the pokemon to get her going, and she rose on unsteady limbs. He led her into the barn and to her stall, the door not quite tall enough to stop a determined pokemon from leaving, but the gems locked above each stall, their binding shard, kept them from wandering far.
Vaporeon slunk into her stall and collapsed as far away from Claude as the small space allowed. He tried to get close to give her another pat, but she swatted him lightly with her tail, and winced at the effort.
Claude retreated to return the whip and let the suffering pokemon rest. If he hated any part of the job, this would be it. He sighed after placing everything back in its spot and unlaced the top few rows of his shirt, opening it for a little relief from the heat. What had gotten into them? Watchful eyes of the other pokemon followed him back towards the barracks.
An older man, Addison, though he went by Ad, greeted him. “Why the long face, kid? Take care of that Vaporeon?” He sat at the rough wooden table, large enough for all twenty of the farmhands to sit around, rare as that was.
Claude ignored him, instead sitting at the far end of the table and reaching for a bit of the hard, crusty bread on the table. He didn't know the story behind the scar running up Ad's forearm, Ad told a different one depending on how much he'd drank, but it might explain his aversion to pokemon. Of course a knife fight wouldn't surprise him; Ad didn't like people much either.
“You know you're the only reason Darren hasn't put that creature down. He knows how much you bellyache about the damn things. You're too soft on 'em, kid. Given the chance, they'd tear your throat out without a thought.” The burly man had less than a few years on Claude, but out of the farmhands, he had seniority.
Claude got himself a cup and filled it with stale water from a barrel in the corner. “What did it do?”
Ad set his boots up on a chair and tipped back in his seat. “Bit Ren, damn near took a finger off. Hey now that I think about it, that wasn't the same one that-”
“Different one.”
“Yeah,” Ad replied slowly. “Well, keep an eye on that one. It's dangerous, should just kill it and be done. Damn shards are too valuable to waste on a pest like that.”
Between Ad and the hard bread, Claude lost any hint of an appetite he'd had. They weren't bad people, but most of the other farmhands shared Ad's views. A pokemon could kill a human easy, and a maimed limb meant no work.
“Maybe,” Claude muttered noncommittally, hoping to end the conversation.
“Damn truth, kid.”
Claude left his untouched meal, instead draining his cup and standing. The others would be coming in to eat as well, and he didn't want to repeat the exchange. “Gotta get back to work.”
“You didn't even eat!” Ad protested, but Claude walked past him and out the door.
Sure enough, a small group approached the barracks, and Claude hurried off in the opposite direction to avoid them before doubling back towards his fields. Once atop his observation tower, he reclined in the splintery chair.
Dozens of them scurried about the fields, watering, digging, tending any plants that struggled. They did an incredible job. The Mistral family owned every single one of the pokemon, the shards to bind them a fortune in and of themselves. While not nobles exactly, the Mistrals probably held more power than the king – losing access to the food they produced would cripple Unova.
Claude let himself slip into a familiar daydream, one where he walked off the farm with a shard-bound pokemon of his own, or better yet, one he convinced to join him of its own volition. Some people had accomplished that. A few – in stories anyway.
As the day stretched on and sunset approached, Claude set about calling the pokemon back. In general, they made it easy for him. A few dragged their feet, but most looked forward to resting after a long day. The glances a few of them shot at Claude gave him pause though.
“I really shouldn't get myself so worked up over it,” he muttered to himself, sliding a set of wide barn doors shut. Before he'd left, he'd glanced in on the Vaporeon he punished. She still lay in the corner, back turned to him.
There was no avoiding dinner, and he trudged once more towards the barracks. He could guess the meal from way out in the fields: stew, and the same bread that no one ate for lunch, made slightly more palatable by hunger. Inside, a familiar iron pot, almost large enough to fit a person, sat warming in front of the hearth.
Luckily, a long day of work made dinner a quiet affair. No matter that they didn't toil the fields themselves, waking before dawn and spending a day under the blazing sun drained the best of men. Claude ate his bowl of stew in silence, left alone by the others.
A few bid him goodnight to which Claude acknowledged absentmindedly. Vaporeon's screams still drained his appetite. He hated hurting pokemon, especially considering everything they did and how little thanks they received. Claude stared into his bowl, pushing the last bit of carrot back and forth against the slopped walls.
If he risked going easy on her, would the others notice? Probably not, they cared little for the pokemon, but still. He looked up and realized the others had all retired. He sat alone in the long hall, the hearth's fire slowly dwindling to embers. A little more discreetly, he double checked to make sure everyone had left. This is a terrible idea, he thought to himself, yet his feet were already in motion.
He scooped another bowlful of the leftover stew with one hand, and grabbed a shuttered lantern in the other before heading out into the night, keeping the light concealed. After years of working, he didn't need more than moonlight to find his way, and he loathed to risk having a light seen moving towards the precious stores of pokemon – and shards.
Moonlight guided him to his destination with no more than a stubbed toe, and he slipped the heavy barn door open. Inside, he couldn't see a thing, but the walls shrouded the lantern, and he opened the shutters a hair. Soft, flickering light pooled around him, and he proceeded towards the Vaporeon's stall.
Rough-cut beams outlined each of the stalls. While not exactly spacious, the exposed rafters gave an open feeling to the building, and each pokemon had enough room to easily move about in their stall. Claude set the lantern and food on the ground and swung the door open the door to Vaporeon's stall.
He whispered into the dim cell. “You awake?”
A pair of eyes, darker than the night outside, reflected the soft flicker of the lantern. A low growl rumbled from the Vaporeon, the frill around her neck rising to frame an innocent face. Despite its purpose, Claude didn't find her very intimidating. Cute maybe, but not threatening. Poor thing. Even in the dim light, he noticed a few dark splotches on the stall floor. Blood.

“I-I wanted to say sorry. I won't hurt you.” He offered the bowl of stew. It made for a poor apology, but he didn't have anything else that would interest a pokemon.
Vaporeon hissed as he slid the bowl closer, and he let it go before backing up, the bowl halfway between them. She watched him like she expected him to pull the whip from thin air, never taking her chin from the ground. Claude sat back, shoulders slumped in what he hoped looked like a humbled posture. Then he waited.
Slowly, after what felt like hours, Vaporeon rose. Her tiny black nose twitched, sniffing the air. In the stillness of the barn, the soft hiss of her tail dragging across the ground grated accusingly in Claude's ears. Her stiff movements, hesitant step – his fault.
He watched the pokemon approach his offering, sniffing experimentally at the bowl as if it might be poisoned. Eventually she tested the contents, a quick taste before eagerly lapping at the heavy broth.
Claude kept his voice low to avoid bothering the sleeping pokemon around them. Sound carried in the spacious barns. “It's not enough, but it's all I got.” He watched the injured pokemon eat.
“Please try to behave. You probably don't want to be here, but I can't help that, and the others – well they don't care so much. I try to make them go easy on you, but I'm nobody important.” He sighed. The pokemon probably didn't even listen to his blathering, but his conscience wouldn't let him off so easy. The tiny pat-pat of Vaporeon's tongue filled the gap in his monologue.
“I'd help if I could, but we need the pokemon working here. I don't know why you've been so restless lately, but there's nothing you can do, and if you keep it up, well...” He trailed off, staring at his feet, cross-legged in front of him. The bowl clattered against the hard-packed dirt of the stable floor. Vaporeon had finished the bowl and licked at the sides, pushing the dish around.
Watching the voracious pokemon brought a faint smile to his face. “Glad someone enjoyed it.”
Vaporeon looked up, glassy eyes considering him, a much wiser look than a pokemon should have. She nudged the bowl before slinking backwards, never taking her eyes off him.
Claude looked down at the bowl. “I really am sorry.” He scratched at a scuff on his boot. They sat in silence for a time.
“If you'd like, I can look at your back, might be able to clean it or something,” he finally mumbled. Vaporeon gave him a blank stare in response, but she didn't hiss or try to retreat deeper into the stall.
Hesitantly, he got to his knees and shuffled closer, moving slow enough that Vaporeon could follow his intentions. He also definitely didn't want to get bitten like Ren had. Lantern light flickered in her unblinking black eyes.
Claude stopped within arm's reach of the injured pokemon and brought the light closer. Dried blood covered the two inflamed welts, and more dripped down her sides, leaving rust-colored trails across her skin. Holding his breath, he reached out with a firm hand and pressed it to Vaporeon's skin, soft and smooth against his calloused fingers.
A low growl rumbled from the pokemon, but she didn't so much as twitch at his touch – a warning that if he tried anything she didn't like, he might not make it out of the barn. Weakened powers or not, that muscular tail could probably snap a leg in the blink of an eye.
Her skin felt slick and cool to the touch, but burned nearer the wounds. He hadn't put his full force behind the whipping, but even still, it left awful injuries, and he'd only struck her two of the prescribed five times.
“Here, let me clean this for you.” Without waiting for a reply, he snatched the bowl and hurried outside the barn. The half-moon's reflection shone on the surface of the water barrel, generally reserved for pokemon to drink from in the morning, and filled the bowl Vaporeon had licked empty. He also found a mostly clean rag hanging inside the barn door, ominously next to the whip.
He moved more quickly, confident that if nothing else, Vaporeon didn't think to try mauling him. Her still form lay placidly on the ground, yet her eyes followed him closely. He set the water down and dipped the rough cloth in.
Her smooth skin absorbed stray droplets like a sponge as he pressed the rag gently against her skin. He scrubbed at the thin lines of dried blood first, cleaning her up as best he could. As for the larger injuries, he didn't know what he could do without breaking them open again. He should have done this earlier. Wishful thinking. Instead he soaked up water with the rag and pressed it against the welts, letting the water slowly absorb into the pokemon's skin. A small sigh of contentment escaped the pokemon's stoic facade.
“All I can do.” He patted the Vaporeon's head gently, and smiled to see she had finally closed her eyes.
“Thanks,” she mumbled sleepily.
Claude froze. A second later, Vaporeon's eyes snapped open, a look of terror on her face, and her eyes shot up towards him. He could only imagine he wore a similar expression to her bulging eyes and agape mouth.
Claude stumbled to his feet, backing away from the stall, lantern, bowl, reason for being there – forgotten. “You just spoke.” He backed up, leaving the stall door open. It stared at him. Gods he whipped a demon. He fed it. Spoke with it. “No. I'm sorry. Please!” He didn't even know if he spoke or imagined the words as a useless, silent prayer.
Vaporeon leapt, injuries forgotten, and she darted between Claude and the exit. Her long tail struck the lantern, sending it clattering along the ground. The flame died.
She stood in darkness, a sliver of moonlight across her back illuminated fresh blood running across her hide, dripping steadily to the barn floor.
Claude could hear it, each drop. His heart pounded in tandem with the deafening crash of blood. He couldn't force his eyes away from the monster. With the moonlight behind it, he only saw the spiked silhouette of its face, back slashed with crimson. Not even a faint reflection glinted off the midnight eyes that he knew hid above the creature's maw.
A soft, trembling voice came from that darkness. “Please, I didn't mean to! You can't tell anyone!”
Claude's eyes adjusted to the darkness, and he got a look at the demon's face. Her wide eyes darted between Claude, her stall and the glimpse of moonlight that offered the only route of escape. She crouched on trembling limbs, half prostrating herself, half ready to dart away. Blood continued to spill down her sides.
Seeing the quaking pokemon so vulnerable helped loosen the grip on Claude's throat, if only slightly. A demon wouldn't show weakness, would it? Pokemon couldn't talk.
Claude forced himself to speak, his voice barely more than a gurgle. “You spoke.”
Vaporeon didn't seem to hear. Her eyes continued to dart about as if unable to decide where to flee. Slowly she sunk to the ground, her chin coming to rest on the dusty floor, frill pressed tight against her body in submission.
“Y-You did speak, didn't you?” Claude hadn't realized he'd been backing up until he thumped against the barn wall. He sank down until he sat across from the defeated pokemon. “How?”
“Please,” she whispered. “Kill me, or do whatever you wish, but don't tell anyone else of your kind. I beg you.”
Words failed Claude. He stared at the desperate pokemon with his mouth open. She spoke better than anyone he worked with, almost like a lord. He watched the pokemon proffer itself before him, chin scraping the ground, eyes pleading. This was going to be a long night.
- 2
- 3
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What Gods Leave