Mage's lit pit
patreon
A Saga of Tanya the Chansey: 11 REVISED
🕑 Added 2025-04-30 21:29:20 +0000 UTCA/N: Hey! Sorry about this! But I was not happy with chapter 11, so I essentially completely rewrote it to be from a different perspective and add some stuff that I was planning to put later but later realized I needed to push back in time for pacing.
It's not actually changed anything plot wise going forward so you dont have to read this.
Consolation prize, more writing from me!
Back to where you're all supposed to be then!
---
Walking beside her partner, Matron Chansey waves her an enthusiastic goodbye as Zoe opens the door to her office.
Looking momentarily confused, Zoe blinks a few times before lighting up in realization.
“Right, your meeting,” she says, waving her partner away. “See you at lunch?”
Chasney shakes her head.
“After I’m done teaching class, you’ve got a meeting with the League adjunct for the report on happiny demographics.”
Her answer seems to make Zoe even more confused.
“What?” She asks, furrowing her brow. “Could you say that again?”
With a small tinge of exasperation Chansey is just about to try and explain again, but catches the sight of a clock out the corner of her eye.
“The League– I– Ah! I’ll be late!” She cries out, hurring on ahead. “It’s on your calendar! See you at the nursery!”
Zoe calls out again but her partner is around a corner fast enough that it’s not rude to pretend not to hear.
Sliding to a stop at the elevator bank, Chansey hops a little to press the button and adjusts her hat as she waits, stewing in a fond frustration with her partner.
Because as much as she loves Zoe, the human can be such a scatterbrain sometimes. Not helped by her… fickle temperament for every aspect of her job not directly related to hatchlings, which makes communicating about that sort of thing difficult.
Speaking about a shared interest is not required for her partner to understand, but the old adage that the fire of shared passions forge unbreakable bonds isn't a saying for nothing.
Such singular focus on the core of her job makes Zoe a fantastic matron, –better than she is some days, especially with the more delicate happiny.
Unfortunately, that also means Chansey has to pick up the slack with the more paperwork-y parts of the job.
But as frustrating Zoe is at times, Chansey wouldn't change a single thing.
Stepping into the elevator, she presses the ground floor and winces at another clock showing that there’s no way she’ll make the meeting on time.
Although, ‘not changing a thing’ does include her years-long campaign to convince her partner to at least check their shared calendar and day planner.
It wouldn't hurt if those efforts delivered results a bit faster.
Blinking as the elevator stops on the second floor, Chasney almost groans as the door opens wasting more time, then has to compress her bulk into the back of the space so a pair of nurses from the administrative wing can step in.
Thankfully nothing else goes wrong as the elevator comes to a stop on the ground floor. Stepping out slowly, Chansey takes a few deep breaths to ready herself for exertion she’s extremely unprepared for, before breaking into a sprint to ensure she’s not going to be any more late.
Unfortunately, her body is not pleased by this decision. Her lungs and heart in particular are sending some very sternly worded emails to her motor cortex.
It takes less than fifteen seconds, as breaths slowly transition into ragged pants, for her to realize the magnitude of her mistake.
An exercise plan wouldn't go amiss either.
Most batches of happiny remind their Matron of her age, but this particular group has given her a double
dose of reality on how poor she’s allowed her physical health to decline.
Thankfully, just before Chansey gets to the point of having to choose between slowing down or passing out the door to the rec room comes into view.
Turning her face away from the metal and hoping it’s unlocked, she rams into the door.
Luckily it was, and both doors slam open without much fuss. Though it does create quite a bit of a racket that has every eye snap to her panting form.
Chansey’s too out of breath to feel embarrassed, holding up an arm to ask for a moment.
“Sorry…” She takes a few more breaths. “Sorry I’m late. One of the hatchlings just wouldn't get to sleep.”
Every other nursery head gives a sympathetic nod.
It’s getting close to the time a designated nap time is taken off the itinerary, and the weeks leading up to that are the worst with hatchlings who’ve developed a little ahead of the curve.
Broodmatron Blaziken’s nod is the most emphatic, for obvious reasons.
After another few seconds of Chasney’s exhaustion not getting better, Burrowarden Swampert speaks up in an awkward rumble.
“You need help cooling off?” He asks.
Nodding vigorously, Chansey sighs as a carefully moderated blast of icy wind washes over her.
Taking one more long breath, she stands up fully and smiles at Swampert before making her way across the room to the rest of the gathering, doing a mental headcount.
Six individuals aside from her, one for each permanent nursery stationed in the Hoenn Joy compound. Only Chansey is without a pair, but usually the Head Nurse sits in…
“Is Blissey running late?” She asks incredulously, the idea of Blissey not being anything less than perfect sounding strange even to her own ears.
Attendant Sceptile gives a shake of the head.
“Something came up in Ever Grande, they both left this morning.”
Swampert looks over with a dubious blink.
“How’d you find that out?”
Sceptile gives a smug eyebrow raise.
“I don't have water in my ears, you should try it somet- glk”
She’s cut off as the Attendant from the other treecko nursery grabs her jaw closed.
“Flirt later.” She says simply, gesturing for Chansey to take her normal spot.
Obeying the instruction, Chasney sits down in her species specific chair and pushes it a bit closer to the raised artificial mud pit.
Meeting with the nursery heads has been a normal part of the job everywhere she’s been stationed with a nursery. But before she’d transferred to the main Hoenn office they would take place in a normal room, or over lunch.
Unfortunately the size and biology of both swampert makes navigating elevators and hallways a hassle.
To solve the logistical issue, they’ve been holding their meetings in the rec room, one of the few places that everyone can get to easily and without needing to shower off mud afterwards.
The tradition is older than Chansey’s tenure in the building—a length of time that does not bear thinking about.
But instead of starting the meeting, everyone instead looks around awkwardly, as if waiting for an absent Blissey to take charge.
After a second Blaziken gives a slightly embarrassed cough and steps up, clapping her hands while half rising from her seat to get everyone’s attention.
“Enough preening! Let’s get started!”
She pauses for a second as everyone's eyes lock to her, then gestures for the other Broodmatron to begin, who nods sharply.
“Thank you.” She says, waving for her co-worker to sit. “Normal week so far, the new transfer chansey is adjusting… as well as her kind normally do for their first nursery.” She says, then winces and glances at Matron, who waves off the unspoken apology.
“It’s alright. I know.” She demurs, remembering her own response when two of her charges started fighting in her first nursery.
“I’d offer to rotate her off with Chansey, but this batch of happiny is…”
She trails off, but the knowing gazes from half the nursery heads prove further words aren't needed.
“Your brood wasn't too upset about the sudden departure?” Matron asks instead.
Blaziken shakes her head.
“Luckily no. Trainer suggested we reframe it as her ‘going off on a journey’ to another region. Took well to the idea.”
Nodding along, Attendant Sceptile pauses with a slow blink and starts counting something on her fingers.
“Hold on. Shouldn't you be expecting Torchic to challenge your gym this circuit?”
At the interruption Broodmatron’s eyes light up, her normally stoic demeanor disappearing instantly.
“It’s Combusken now! I’ve been watching his journey and he’s punching well above his trainer's three badge skill level. I’ve already got Flannery to agree on swapping me into her three… badge…”
She trails off with a cough, her expression returning to placidity.
“We’re getting off topic.” She says, eyes looking past her co-worker’s amused gazes. “Sceptile! You’re up.”
The Attendant gives a smug blink, which only grows stronger when the Broodmatron’s left hand starts to flicker with sparks.
“Of course Broodmatron.” She says, then looking around to the rest of the group. “We’ve actually been having some trouble with the skylight, sunlamps are covering for now, but repairs will take another few weeks, we need something that’ll last a bit longer.”
Swampert perks up.
“Is the butterfree greenhouse in use? You could take meals there.”
Chansey watches on with a great deal of amusement as Sceptile agrees to the proposal that would let the two love-doves spend more time together immediately. An enthusiasm that has both the other Attendant and Burrowarden look at each other, exasperated over their smitten co-workers.
From there the meeting devolves into the endless boring minutia of trying to raise thirty to fifty children in a hospital and all the logistical troubles therein. From food, to finding a gap in Sceptile’s schedule and fix up the playground’s greenery, to scheduling finite hours of their partner’s time to interact with other humans.
But as always, the hour and a half they’d scheduled turns out to be too much time for the business at hand. Which, because they’ve got nowhere urgent to be, inevitably leads to the official function taking on a much more… informal twist.
“And now the two of them are on the ceiling! Still fighting, might I add, and I’m having to stop Chansey from putting everyone in the room to sleep and because she still hasn't noticed the two above her.” Septile groans miserably, head on the table and a mouth full of dried berries as she recounts the events that led to the skylight being broken.
“But of course she starts panicking when I point that out, and she’s still the only other adult in the room. So I just tell her to make sure things don't get any worse on the ground while I go and get them off the ceiling.” She says, pausing to take another bite of berry.
Swampert raises a hesitant arm.
“Don't you all have catch-netting?”
Septile rolls her head just enough to glare at him.
“No.”
The arm is quickly withdrawn, and Septile continues her story.
“So I get climbing. Despite the oil on my grip pads, and I get just about halfway up there before the two battleheads manage to push each other to the skylight. Which, might I add, is not very easy to grip on a good day!”
She gestures wildly, as if pointing at the ceiling from her lying position.
“So there I am worrying about the twerps falling off, then I realize I have to go onto the glass to get them.”
She pauses, takes a breath, and her earlier good humor fades slightly in the memory.
“Until an attack misses. And it cracks the glass.” She says, frustration gone.
“...After it shattered and they started falling, I just jumped through the shards, shielded both as well as I could, and hoped no one was further below.”
The somber mood lasts for a second before Septile sits up,
“Thankfully Chansey was there to pull Treecko out of the way in time, so no one was hurt.” She says with finality, before looking over everyone with a slightly tired smile.
“And that’s why I spent the rest of the day in the care wing getting bits of glass pulled out of me!”
There's a moment of silence as everyone at the table wonders what to say, before Blaziken speaks up with monosyllabic firmness and a nod.
“Good.”
Sceptile pauses for a moment, then nods back and looks around the table.
“Sorry about that, got a bit more intense than I thought. Anyone else got a story?”
At the question everyone goes quiet, trying to think of a story that feels right to follow it up and coming up short.
Eventually, Swampert raps his arm against the side of his mud pit’s retaining wall and clears his throat.
“I can't help but notice Chansey has been… quiet over these past few meetings, yet everyone’s been talking about group A. Swampert over here can't stop telling me about his mudkip’s gossip.”
He gives a meaningful pause as every eye turns to their co-worker
Chansey, on her part, does not flinch, no matter how much the sudden attention has her wanting to hide her face behind her hat. Instead she waves her arm as if to deflect the question.
“W-Well! I guess there’s been a few odd things in my nursery. But there’s nothing interesting enough to tell a story about.” She stammers out, proud of her masterful diffusing of the situation.
The excuse is doubly good because it’s mostly true. Even if she did want to explain the strangeness in her nursery, Chansey would struggle to put it into words.
Not because it’s normal, –Arceus no– rather because the strangeness has pervaded everything down to the bedrock that focusing on one bit doesn’t capture the full extent of the abnormality.
Both Broodmatrons look lean forward in eerie sync.
“Oh?”
The other chimes in to finish the sentence.
“There’s more oddities than just the Happiny?”
Chasney has to hold back a shiver as they pause, do a mirrored cough, and consciously un-synchronize themselves.
Twins.
Even after knowing them for years she still has trouble picking them apart when they remove their hats.
Sceptile chimes in, seeing the group's target isn't willing to talk.
“Oh do tell, please. My hatchlings are getting close to evolving they've been growing so quick. In less than a year no less! You’ve got to tell me what your group’s been doing differently!”
Now Chansey does hide her face, blocking her co-worker’s inquisitive gazes behind her arms.
Unfortunately she's been on the other side of this many a-time, so she knows there’s only two ways this can go.
She can either continue to deflect until her friends wear her down, or she can tell them now.
And as much as she doesnt want to, she chooses the latter.
Rubbing her arms down her face with a sigh, she looks out across the circle of expectant faces.
Maybe if she walks them though one example it’ll illustrate… whatever she wants to call whatever this past year has been.
“Well…” She stalls for a second longer. “I guess there’s been a few oddities.”
—--
“Matron?” A voice squeaks from behind.
Chasney turns around and looks down at Happiny, who’s staring back with uncharacteristic seriousness and upright posture.
“Yes darling?”
She gives a sharp gesture toward the blanket covering the nursery's collection of bedtime stories.
“Requesting permission to requisition education material.” She says, the words coming out clipped, as if rehearsed.
Chansey blinks.
What?
Seeing her charge isn't offering any more context, she mulls the words over in her head for a second and makes an educated guess.
“Do you want to use the books?”
Happiny nods.
“Boss’s orders. Big Sis needs them.” She says simply, as if that would clear up any confusion.
After another second Chasney gives a small giggle as she deciphers the request and the word choice suddenly becomes very amusing.
Playing along, Chansey straightens herself up as well and mirrors the clipped tone.
“Request granted.” She responds with a nod.
Happiny takes a few seconds to process the words, lights up with a smile, then quickly schools her expression again and does a textbook about face, marching toward the books.
Chansey watches her go for a little longer. Keeping her attention on Happiny as she grabs a few of the books and starts running over to the nursery's resident battler her shadow.
“Got them!”
Chasney looks back to her work with a smile.
Hatchlings.
–_–
Stepping into the nursery, Matron gives a light smile as she looks over the group, picking out ‘Big Sis’ among the happily playing crowd, leaning against Chasney and dozing while her caretaker reads aloud from a book Matron doesn't recognize, but the unfamiliarity doesn’t catch her attention.
That’s true right up until she walks closer and overhears snatches of Chansey’s voice, where that smile fades slightly as she realizes she can only recognize a few of the words. Though only because she’s heard them once or twice from Chansey, during her increasingly incoherent diatribes about the stock market and “economic theory.”
Happiny chirps and wiggles closer as Chansey turns a page, and Matron decides to not think about it too deeply, just keep the cuteness and ignore the strangeness.
That decision works.
Until two more happiny settle down next to the pair, staring at the notebook with confused –yet fascinated– focus.
Matron forces her eyes to look away and her ears to tune it out.
Ignore it.
–_–
“So that’s why I need you to sign off on the enrichment material request.” Says Chansey with a firm nod, as if her explanation makes any sense. Having described the series of events that led to her submitting a request to add a college-level biochemistry textbook to the nursery from the library.
For a hatchling to read.
Matron stares.
She has half a mind to refuse the request, if only to slow down the progression of this insanity. But her better nature prevails.
The cause of this abnormality is clear to see.
Or rather two anomalies.
“Big Sis” and “Boss,” the battler and her shadow, the first impossibly adept at everything she tries, and the other quietly following behind, organizing the entire nursery to their whims.
Because for every hour ‘Big Sis’ spends teaching her shadow spends another hour organizing reading circles and pulling the ones who've pulled ahead to teach those lagging behind.
In just over a week half the happiny have learned to read, a statistic that blows every other year out of the water.
Still, she approves the request.
It's absurd to imagine that statistics can keep up, and maybe throwing an impossible obstacle at the hatchling will slow at least one of the duo down.
–_–
She’s at home, talking about work with Zoe over dinner. The discussion covered all the normal topics, funny interactions, her partner bemoaning all the meetings, reports, and paperwork, gossip from the ‘mon side of the hospital Zoe couldn't understand by virtue of being human.
Of course it ended up talking about the speed their nursery is learning.
“I’m not sure what’s going on with this year’s batch.” The human says, gesturing with chopsticks wrapped in spaghetti and mushroom, foreign food night. “I’m thinking it’s something in the water, because they’re growing fast. All of group A’s nurseries are.”
She takes a moment to chew.
“Whatever it is, good job keeping up! They’re even learning faster!”
Chansey stares across the table.
Learning ‘faster’ is an understatement.
Two weeks.
Three fourths are already literate.
The ones who are running ahead are already doing calculus.
Her eye twitches faintly.
She’s not even sure how they learned calculus!
She has to assume it’s coming from their lessons in economics because she refuses to believe they figured it out themselves.
Chansey takes a bite of her spaghetti.
She’s not upset her nursery is learning faster, it’s unequivocally a good thing. But the fact it’s happening at all is concerning for an entirely different reason.
Happiny nurseries have always been the most well behaved, but even the best hatchlings have to work off their energy somehow, and that will always cause a fuss.
Yet somehow, despite this batch being the most energetic and organized she’s ever seen, they're also the most well behaved. All that energy directed into learning and light exercise, spurred on by their ‘Big Sis.’
Seemingly without realizing it.
But Chansey fears the fast approaching day she runs out of things to teach.
Thankfully the slower… slowest of the bunch are still operating at the same rate as every other year. A beacon of hope.
She has to believe it’ll level off soon.
Chansey finishes chewing her spaghetti.
“Yep!” She chirps with strained cheer.
–_–
She was wrong.
Matron looks down at the stack of tests taken in class today.
Every single one with a near perfect score.
Looking around to ensure she’s alone, Chansey takes a breath, then slams her head into her desk and whimpers.
—--
Matron takes a deep breath, feeling suddenly lighter now that she’s gotten all that off her chest.
“So… Yea…”
Her co-workers stare.
—--
–_–
—--
Amelia Joy pants as she jumps into her mom’s car and chucks her backpack to the other seat while she buckles herself in. As she does her Mom watches from the rear view mirror with amused eyes.
“Did you forget what today is?” She asks teasingly.
“Nope! Don't forget!” Amelia responds a touch too quickly
Mostly because she did forget her Mom was going to pick her up, so she can go straight from school to her first meeting with her new partner.
Amelia almost frowns at the thought, but catches herself just and time, chastising the feeling as childish.
She’s almost fifteen! Practically an adult! She needs to trust her logic and reason, not baseless emotions.
This lingering anxious feeling is just from her worrying that her new partner is going to flake and ruin her future career prospects, that her new pokemon won't be able to handle the stress of being her partner.
Thankfully that anxiety seems to be baseless. Because this is her second year of partner meetings, and Amelia’s gotten to hear every variant of the ‘be careful with happiny, they’re delicate’ speech.
It’s why she chose to not go down with the other kids. She’s just too… intense for normal happiny.
But her new partner doesn’t match those descriptions at all, in fact, when they were being led out of the family compound Aunt Zoe took her aside and gave Ameila a very different speech, which used a lot of complicated words to put a positive spin on an instruction to, ‘not let her push you around.’
Amelia is thankful for the concern, but it wasn't necessary. She was in control the whole time, laying down an ultimatum for the future that her partner agreed to.
The bond with Happiny isn't strong enough to get a lot out of her words, but her indisputable drive for nursing cannot be questioned.
Just like her.
And Amelia Joy isn't shown up by someone who’s less than a year old.
With that, she opens up school bag and reaches in, past school work and hovering over her extra reading on pokemon training so she can…
…
So she can specialize in becoming a physical therapist! After she becomes a nurse!
Yea…
Nodding to herself, Amelia rummages around a little more, grabbing Mom’s old textbook on nursing and opening it to where she left off.
She can do it.
Amelia Joy will become the best nurse in the world.
Taking out her notepad and a pen, she prepares to take notes on the book and do the chapter quizzes.
She’ll make Mom proud.
And as she begins to study her borrowed textbook, Joana Joy glances at her daughter in the rearview mirror with unconditional love tinged in worry.
Comments
Green0Photon
OMG I'm glad I decided to check this instead of assuming it was a more minor revision. I loved seeing the Matron's perspective! But of the Happiny and of how the Caretaker doesn't see anything unusual. Also actually pointed out how Tanya's friend actually is pretty seriously making an impact. I think it was that this one was slightly pinker than normal? The one that bugged Tanya a bit more often such that they spent more time together? If I'm remembering right.
