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A Saga of Tanya the Chansey: 10
🕑 Added 2025-04-02 20:39:25 +0000 UTCThankfully, the rest of the visit to the medical wing was significantly less… exciting after the Slugma situation. Where they quietly moved between rooms meeting more injured pokemon and humans alike.
A lot of humans.
Mostly humans.
It got bad enough that Caretaker had to reassure Tanya repeatedly that this is a pokemon treatment facility, despite one out of every three rooms that’s treating an injury having a human on the examination table instead of their partner.
Which, after a bit of explanation does make some sense, considering pokeballs make it trivially easy to heal any injury that would put them in this ward.
In fact, aside from the cases where pokemon were sick with something contagious –which Tanya wasn't allowed to see for obvious reasons– most of the pokemon receiving treatment were elderly, needing assistance with age-related maladies that the PokeCare machines on every crash cart aren't able to heal.
Tanya’s gotten to see a lot of prescriptions for arthritis cream, blood pressure medication, and moisturizer for every flavor of water type dry skin.
The next room they enter, which Caretaker assures her is the last one of the day, contains one such elderly duo. A silver haired human in a brown vest sitting next to a noctowl on a wood and steel perch, his feathers dull and eyes cloudy.
Both bird and human swivel their heads to look at the sound of the opening door, the owl giving a squinted blink.
“Whoo’zat?” The Owl asks.
Receiving no response, he looks over to the human and flares out a wing, smacking him.
“Double time, Meal Ticket!”
His partner doesn't react in the slightest to the face full of feathers.
“I’m look’n you old curmudgeon! I’m not deaf!” He says, squinting in a way eerily similar to his partner. But before he can speak the nurse in the room gives a light cough to get both their attention.
Seeing she’s gotten it, the nurse holds up something that could be at first confused as a pair of swimming goggles. This is before one notices the thick lenses, abnormally wide gap for the nose, and the fact the strap is made of elastic instead of plastic. Making it look more a strange amalgamation of ski and swimming goggles with a medical twist.
“Alright, I’ve swapped out the blank lenses for your prescription. Try them out.” The Nurse says, stepping forward to put the goggles on the bird before pausing as he flares up, puffing out his feathers and leaning back enough to almost fall off his perch as she gets close.
“Something wrong?” She asks, but instead of asking the ‘mon she turns and looks to his partner.
The elderly gentleman looks to his partner as the nurse stops approahing, causing the noctowl to settle slightly, feathers smoothing but still keeping a cautious squint on the goggles.
“Tell that chicklet to take those things and stuff em!” He crows. “They look ridiculous!”
His partner nods and turns to the nurse.
“Miss, would it be possible to put those lenses on a different frame? Something similar to the beak-mounted type he used to have; the wireframes?”
He puts two fingers on the bridge of his nose and makes a vague gesture, as if trying to draw them in the air, ignoring spiteful grumbles along the lines of ‘not what I said’ coming from the owl.
At this, the nurse gives a commiserating smile and a shake of the head.
“I’m afraid not, his new lenses are too large for that style of frame, the goggles are the only way to support them with Noctowl’s anatomy.” She pauses, noticing the owl is still agitated, then holds out the beige amalgam of plastic and glass to the other human.
“Here, maybe you should do it.” She half asks as the man gingerly takes the goggles.
He looks over to his partner and places the offensive item in his lap as the nurse steps away, picking up a clipboard and suddenly looking incredibly invested in whatever's written on it.
“Well. You heard the broad-uh” He cut himself off, eye flicking over to the nurse. “The nurse. It’s this or nothing.”
Noctowl gives a quiet grumble and looks to the far wall, ruffling his feathers slightly as he settles.
“Oh now who’s dea-”
“I’m not deaf!” Screeches the owl, head flicking around angrily and cutting off his partner.
They stare at each other for a moment, eyes locked and completely still. Then, somehow, in the space between them, Tanya can sense something. So subtle and sourceless that it’s almost certainly a figment of her imagination, yet she makes note of it all the same.
Noctowl breaks the silence first, dropping his gaze to the goggles and speaking in a surprisingly soft murmur, voice a heavy mix of emotions.
“They make me look old Charles.”
At that proclamation there’s a moment of complete –still– silence, broken only by the human beginning to lightly shake, breath quickening into short bursts as he tries to hold back a wave of emotion.
But it seems to be unstoppable as, after only a few seconds, the dam bursts and the silver-haired human throws his head back with a cackle!
“Old!?” He asks, slapping his knee as he struggles to breathe through his laughter. “Breaking news bud! Yer a fossil!”
The Noctowl flares up indignantly, flapping his wings as he stares incredulously at his partner.
“Oh laugh it up you coot!” He crows indignantly, stepping across his perch to get close enough to smack his partner with a wing. “Honestly! Why have I put up with you all these years?! I should have walked out when I had the chance!”
If anything that makes the human laugh harder.
“Oh sure! Go live with the zubat! You’d fit right in!”
The remark forces a chuckle out of the Noctowl, a fact that has him looking upset at himself as well as his partner.
“Oh really, funny guy? Why don't you get over here and say it where I can smack you, Meal Ticket!”
For reasons only clear to the two of them, the human obliges, allowing himself to be battered by feathered limbs for a minute as his laughter quiets into chuckles, then just a big grin as his partner's wings slowly fall still.
After the flurry of sound and movement ends, the human tries to adjust his sitting position but gives a pained grunt as he does.
“Damn. Think I pulled something.” He mutters, before glaring at the bird, who gives a slow smug blink and says nothing.
They stay like that for a few more seconds before the man holds up the goggles again.
“Are you done?” He asks, and as his partner lowers his head to allow the goggles to be mounted he gives a soft smile while the owl can't see.
Lifting a feathered head and adjusting his glasses with a raised claw, Noctowl looks around the room with wide eyes, only made larger by the lenses’ magnification. After a second he looks down to Tanya and Caretaker with a pleased expression, but his attention only flits over Caretaker before locking on to the smaller of the duo.
“Aah, delightful… young blood.” He says, clacking his beak. “I must be getting old, I would never have let such a little morsel escap- Wha?” He’s cut off as the human lifts the perch, jostling the owl.
“Be nice.” He says before looking over to the nurse. “Thank you Nurse, is there anything else?”
The woman gives a shake of the head and waves him away.
“I’d like to see you in the next few weeks to make sure the new lenses are settling in, so just come in before the first of next month please. Have a nice day!”
The human returns the gesture and makes his leave, carrying both the perch and the grumbling owl with seemingly no difficulty.
Tanya watches them go with vague academic curiosity.
She’d noticed a strange trend of the ‘mon here being patterned after similar animals in other dimensions and, according to Caretaker, most started life as natural creatures living in the wild before choosing to form an agreement with a human partner.
Considering all the palliative care they get, the healthcare alone seems like a good enough reason to abandon the wilds in her opinion.
But Noctowl’s comments upon seeing her, and the fact that he was modeled after a bird of prey makes Tanya wonder what the food chain’s like out there.
Namely the sentience of the food they’re eating.
The idea that the bird might eat someone who could beg for mercy feels… off. Putting it lightly.
Downright cannibalistic honestly, despite the clear species difference.
After the door closes, Nurse Joy sets down the clipboard then gives a variant of the exact same greeting every other nurse gave when Tanya enters the room, the only difference this time is there’s not a chansey giving her own introduction.
A rarity, but not the first time there’s been a nurse without a partner.
But as she looks up she notes Caretaker looking down at her with concerned eyes.
Tanya tilts her head questioningly.
“What?”
Caretaker blinks, and Tanya sees that somehow the question eases her discomfort as she looks away.
The rest of the visit is nearly identical to the rest, with the nurse giving a description of her specialization and job specific tools, this time with an optometrical twist.
Tanya listens and nods along, she cant ask any questions due to the language barrier but the nurse seems to have done this entire thing before, so she answers most of the obvious ones Tanya was thinking.
The only interesting bit was when she talked about the process of making glasses for such a wide variety of head shapes and eye positions, requiring a standardized set of twelve different parts that can be mixed and matched to cover the majority of species.
Fortunately, without a chansey to field questions they’re out of the room relatively quickly.
They’ve been at this for over an hour and Tanya’s getting tired. Not physically, but the mental strain of dealing with this many people in such a short span is always quite draining.
It’s both comforting and deeply frustrating that this inability to network for longer than a few hours has stuck with her for all this time. Even in her first life this lack of conversational stamina forced her to skip –or simply not see– key opportunities that would have allowed her to move up the corporate ladder.
Finishing this medical job fair and slipping through the held open door into the hall, Tanya instinctively grabs Caretaker’s offered arm as they move through the still bustling corridor towards the exit back home. But as they walk the normal byplay of conversation between them is strangely quiet, having slowed over the course of the excursion as the former soldier found herself more and more worn down.
She’d assumed, if only due to its absence while networking with her sisters, that this personality flaw had finally left her. Unfortunately, it appears they’re just an exception to the rule for some reason.
Because that’s what she’s doing with her siblings, networking.
Perhaps a bit earlier than Tanya’s used to, but the basic principles of the idea are all the same. Forming connections with her peers by offering help while she still has something to give. All done with the understanding they’ll carry that favor forward, allowing Tanya to move upward in the future.
Admittedly, she’s reasonably sure her sisters would help without the transaction, a reality Tanya’s still gently trying to train them out of.
She’s not made very much progress.
Her train of thought is interrupted as Caretaker gently guides her away from some rushing legs of a brown haired doctor, looking down with a soft smile.
“Exciting huh?” She asks.
Tanya nods, Caretaker continuing before she can formulate a response.
“You know. This isn't everything you could do, this isn't even every job in the building.” She says, slowing down at the junction between two halls to allow a cart to pass and leaning closer, as if what she’s about to say is a big secret.
“It’s all so big and complicated there's an entire department whose job it is to organize everything!” She says with a smile. “And I think we both know who’s going to be headed there.”
Tanya huffs a laugh and nods.
“True.” She says simply.
She can just imagine how happy Happiny will be when she learns that there’s an entire job designed around her favorite game, ‘organize.’
Caretaker’s about to say something else, but has to pause and open the door out of the ward, continuing as they slip though.
“I know, I’ve said it before, but I want you to know I really mean it.” She tugs on their linked arms until Tanya’s gently brushing against Caretaker’s side. “I know you can do whatever you set your mind to, not just all those nursing jobs.”
Tanya nods, slightly touched by Caretaker’s faith. It’s not as if she’d believed otherwise, but Caretaker is clearly invested in ensuring the former soldier is prepared to give maximum utility to her organization, and the vote of confidence means Tanya’s living up to expecta-
“I mean, you’ve got the most intuitive sense of economics! You could be a wonderful stockbroker!”
…What?
She looks up at Caretaker as they navigate the now quiet halls, the taller ‘mon looking ahead with eyes lost in thought as she continues.
“Or with all those questions you could be a researcher! Or a Ranger for nature preserves! Or a battler in a gym somewhere!” She says before looking down with a smile full of a near constant expression, one Tanya’s not yet been able to identify until now.
Pride.
She stares at that smiling face, mind trying to fit this into her model of the world.
“Is… Is there an economics department in the hospital?” Tanya asks, tilting her head slightly.
Caretaker giggles and leans slightly harder against her as they walk.
“No Dear, but if this old houndoon can learn volatility arbitrage I know you can be even better.”
Walking along in silence for a moment, Tanya tries to think her way through the idea, looking for where Caretaker’s organization can extract value from their investment.
Thankfully this entire line of reasoning doesn't really pertain to Tanya’s plan for the future, but the question itself is still worthwhile to ask.
She had been told she’s technically free to do whatever she wants, but assumed it was in the same way company towns ‘technically’ represent free market capitalism despite not allowing the inhabitants any of its benefits. A product of systems inhibiting the worker’s right to self determination with fees and barriers too tall for the workers to surmount with the resources they’re given.
Perhaps…
“It would be a shame to have to cut ties with Amelia, and finding a different partner to join a new career path would be…” She trails off as Caretaker looks down at her, slowing to a stop.
She kneels down and puts both arms on her shoulders, looking fully into her charge’s eyes with an unreadable expression, then muttering something unintelligible before speaking up.
“Dea- Happiny, I’m not sure where you get these thoughts in your head, but you don't get a partner because you want to get the same job.” She says with loving intensity, pausing for a moment to ensure Tanya understands before continuing.
“A partner is someone who you want to stay with forever, because the idea of leaving is so awful you’d do anything to be there for them.”
Caretaker pauses for a moment, smiling wistfully as her eyes look off into memories only she can see, before refocusing on the present.
“If I decided tomorrow I wanted to quit being a nurse, become a battler, and join a gym on the other side of the region I would just talk to Claire. Pretty soon I’d be training and battling with a gym trainer every day, and when it’s time to head home I’d go through a Transfer Machine and be back by dinner to share all the amazing things I did with her.”
She pats Tanya on the head.
“Partners aren't co-workers, they’re your friend, your best friend, and if you decide you want to do something that makes you happy and your partner says no? They aren't much of a friend are they?”
Giving a quick hug, Caretaker stands up and begins gently leading a still processing Tanya down the hall toward home.
Following behind on autopilot, the former soldier reassesses every piece of information she’d learned about partners, trying to recontextualize it with this new input.
After a few moments of thought she finds this model causes a great deal of things to make more sense but –if true– has her own existence make even less.
If there is no assurance of a return on investment, what’s the incentive to raise a happiny?
Even more, the thought of a partner not being a co-worker, instead some sort of… roommate and translator makes their purpose feel even less necessary than before. Considering how misinformed Tanya’s been about their function, perhaps a partner wouldn't be necessary after all?
A moot point until she masters conversational and written Japanese again, but her upcoming meeting with Amelia has just moved up the list of importance, as assessing whether she’s more likely to help or hurt Tanya’s career prospects suddenly becomes more relevant with the advent of other options.
Still, the entire situation is deeply confusing. Without clear answers to the fundamental questions to why the former soldier even exists, any further conclusions are suspect.
Thankfully, after a moment, the reality of her situation becomes clear once more.
Happiny are raised from birth around nursing, given partners that are going into the nursing field, and seem biologically inclined to care for others.
They don't need an incentive.
Because almost everyone will choose to do it of their own free will, and the resources wasted on raising a chansey who chooses not to enter the nursing field are likely vastly outweighed by those that do.
Plus, with the current system, the organization has near total control of throughput; something that would be near impossible if they simply allowed the process to happen naturally out in the wild.
Nodding to herself at the solid reasoning, Tanya blinks as that last bit triggers a lingering question.
“Caretaker?” She asks, looking up.
The nurse doesn’t look back, instead giving a questioning hum as they walk.
“Our line exists in the wild, correct?” She asks before continuing at Caretaker’s nod. “Then what are our natural predators?”
Caretaker twitches.
“No one! Er- uh- I don't kno- When you’re olde- Oh look! It’s everyone! They must have finished class early! C'mon!” She stumbles out before speeding up, tugging Tanya along behind in a sudden forced march, making her break into a light run to keep up with the increased pace.
As she’s pulled along Tanya notices that, even after she quickly changed the topic, Caretaker is still clearly uncomfortable with the previous line of questioning.
The only reason she can think of as to why is if Caretaker’s trying to shield her from a still present danger.
Forming up at the end of the line with a small wave to the rearmost sister, Tanya makes a mental note to look into predation rates in the world outside and the risks of being eaten.
If it’s even the smallest risk she needs to be prepared.
—--
–_–
—--
Clawstrike, high.
Backstep, counter with pound.
Torchic ducks, throwing out a wing to blind and cover for another attack, but the entire maneuver is revealed to be a feint allowing him to jump back.
Attempting to close distance, Tanya funnels mana into her legs and leaps after him, using psychic energy to telekinetically deflect a midair ember as they both fly though the air.
The chicken lands first, claws gripping into the grass, shimmering with heat that burns away the green of the grass and bleaches dirt beneath to loose sandy particulate.
Thankfully Tanya’s upon her opponent before he has time to completely burn the dirt to sand, forcing him to throw the attack half finished.
She waves an arm and a gust of telekinetic wind pushes the dusty clay to the ground before transitioning the move into a solid pound on the side of his head, punishing a clumsy attempt to get off a peck.
Stumbling back, he kicks out again and Tanya goes for the grab, inadvertently opening herself up to another feint as he uses the other, previously grounded, leg to throw a clean midair kick. Striking the side of her head and making her stumble to the side with the force of the blow.
With eyes off target, she calls mana to her voice and sings out a note of a song the mana takes well to, twisted in a way she cannot describe to hurt.
Regaining her footing in less than a second and looking for her opponent, Tanya realizes the song wasn't enough to disrupt what she was worried about.
Torchic wavers with heat, flames flickering up and down his form before he explodes into a pillar of mana, heat, and fire. Proximity to the sudden blaze causing a flash of burning pain with the sheer temperature as it flares to life.
Tanya braces hersel-
He moves.
Torchic crosses the distance almost instantly, blackened grass and dirt flying in the wake of an attack almost too fast to see.
Blocking, Tanya has to pull more mana to her skin to avoid burns as she almost immediately has to defend another kick to her opposite side. Any attempt to counter made useless as by the time she would be able to he’s already gone, speeding around to attack from a different angle with claw, beak, and magic.
She tries to predict, but they’ve fought each other too many times, he ducks and weaves and a pattern that’s not random.
Rather specifically designed to predict her.
Scuffs of ash and quickly reddening burn welts pile on as she burns her mana defending the near continuous assault, magic solidifying on her skin as she calls it to pure defense. Barely able to move lest even a single one of these attacks go undefended and deliver a round ending blow.
But in the center of this flaming whirlwind, behind her guard, Tanya’s eyes calmly flick about as the chicken seems to disappear and reappear at will, searching for a weakness.
He’s too quick to attack physically, her psychic energy is immediately burnt up when she tries to get a grip on him, and he’s running an attack pattern specifically designed to be near unpredictable.
Learning the new pattern would take too much time.
But…
She spreads her mana into the dirt beneath them. Wincing internally as the redeployment of finite magic makes the strikes burn the slightest bit more.
Torchic appears to her left, leg raised high and already halfway through the downstroke of a devastating crush claw.
Her eye flicks down to the dirt his remaining claw rests upon, and somehow, in less than a tenth of a second, her opponent realizes what she’s planning and tries to jump away.
But it’s too late.
A clod of earth just big enough to encompass his entire foot suddenly lifts off the ground and shoots off with all the force of the chicken's jump like it’s on ice, leaving him completely motionless midair.
He falls, the pillar of flame guttering as his concentration is shattered, yet even now he does not panic or flail, already maneuvering to regain his stolen balance. With perhaps a quarter second he’d be on sure footing again, the opening wasted.
Tanya grabs the descending leg as he tries to transition from attack to maneuver.
He doesn't get a quarter second.
She lifts.
—--
The two of them are sitting side by side on the edge of the ring of spectators, Tanya watching with casual interest as a different torchic fights a treecko while her Torchic preens with his beak, picking blades of grass from between disheveled plumage.
Caretaker was busy when the fight concluded, and it took a minute for another chansey to make her way over to heal the both of them, leading to a gap in their fighting that two regulars filled almost immediately.
From even just a few seconds of observation it’s clear the treecko is more skilled, his attacks better executed and every movement clean, clearly following some sort of underlying structure.
In the yard a sort of hierarchy has formed around who can beat up who, the standard way children organize themselves, with Treecko sitting in a nebulous space just below Torchic.
Unfortunately his opponent is also a fire type, and Tanya doesn't need to pay very close attention to see how that burning mana almost disintegrates Treecko’s own.
The chicken who’s fighting clearly knows his inborn advantage against his foe as well, taking full advantage and leading to a fight that –skill to skill– should have concluded in a few seconds. But ended up dragging on into a minutes long cat and mouse game. The bird leveraging his natural aptitude for speed to keep up with Treecko’s training to keep distance, throwing out endless embers to chip away at the lizard.
Fortunately for the lizard the bird’s aim is garbage, and it seems he’s never heard of zoning or bracketing strikes. Treecko’s strategy makes equal sense, conserving energy and chasing just enough to tire out his opponent.
Doesn't seem like the torchic’s noticed.
Tanya’s opponent looks up from his preening and spits out a few blades of grass, seemingly satisfied as he ruffles his feathers and settles down.
“They any good?” Torchic asks absentmindedly, rolling a wing to stretch freshly healed muscles.
“He’s wasting his advantage.” She responds with a shrug.
He nods, watching his batchmate’s stream of embers start to slow and snorting derisively as the tables slowly start to turn.
“He’s wasting our time, he’s already lost.” He grumbles. “I’ll talk to him.”
Tanya gives a nod and they lapse into silence as the already decided battle continues to drag on.
They haven't talked much, just a few sentences in the brief pauses waiting for Caretaker or another chansey to heal them, or for another fight in the arena to stop. But the few words they have exchanged made it clear she’d gotten a pretty clear picture of the chicken without them.
Torchic is –in a word– driven.
Every sentence was either a jab at other battler’s bad moves, stupid tactics, and poor decisions; or half introspective questions about what she did to beat him in the last bout.
Tanya gives a half smile as she watches him struggle to not rush into the arena and end the fight himself.
Battle maniac.
He’d fight right in with her 203r-
The ship is burning, shockwaves rippling across the superstructure as magazines detonate, sending a pillar of black smoke high into the cloudless sk-
Magic falters and Tanya immediately twitches to the more familiar Psychic energy on reflex, pulling it around herself and feeding derivatives into a phantom orb.
Thankfully she doesn't waste too much mana on this annoying break in her self control, releasing this unnatural state just as quickly as it came and allowing her mana slowly come back to the fore.
Torchic seems to have noticed her slip, as he gives her a slightly confused look before looking back to the fight.
Strangely enough, when he looks over Tanya feels her natural mana flare brighter, burning away the remnants of her lapse.
She really needs to figure out what’s making her mana fluctuate like that.
“Honestly, he’ll never get a trainer if he’s not gonna fight for real.” He says, mostly to himself.
Tanya watches the fight as well, but finds her attention drawn away from the poor showing to Chansey –one from another nursery– as she watches the battle with casual focus, waiting for the right moment to step in and heal up both parties.
An incredibly useful benefit of living in a facility full of medical professionals.
Tanya tilts her head consideringly at the thought.
“You know, it’s a shame you’ll not be able to train as hard once you head out with a trainer.” She says, causing Torchic to look over questioningly, so she elaborates. “Without the free healing you’ll either have to spend money on medicine, heal naturally, or have a lighter training regime.”
Her opponent looks over and cocks his head, confused.
“Won't you learn the healing move?” He asks, gesturing at Tanya with a wing. “I guess we’ll have to train a little lighter so you can heal us both, but it’s not that bad.”
Tanya blinks, trying to parse what her opponent just said. Working backwards from what seems to be an entire web of assumptions with no bearing with reality.
Did he…
Did he forget she’s going to become a nurse?
Or does he not understand what nursing school is?
Opening her mouth to correct the misunderstanding she looks into his confused eyes, and as she does, something wells up within making her freeze.
For a moment they sit there, Tanya completely still as Torchic gives a slow blink, but just as she powers though this strange –illogical– hesitation his head whips around to the fight as Treecko finally knocks down an exhausted chicken.
The instant that happens Torchic is running to the other side of the arena and, before Tanya can even stand, he’s at a ready stance wigging excitedly for her to get ready.
“C’mon Rival! Let’s go! Or are you scared I’ll beat you?” He shouts from across the clearing.
Closing her mouth and standing up, she steps into the ring and gets into a ready stance, resolving to clear up the misunderstanding the next time they get a moment.
Then every extraneous thought collapses into a blade of pure focus as her opponent launches across the clearing in a fiery opening strike!
---
A/N: And that's torchic.
He's fu- a potent rival!
Ta-ta All!
Comments
Varisis
I like that this story is giving props to the chansey nurses, they are the real heroes of pokemon.
Ichigo Bladekiller
Ah yes the sometimes simple idea of doing both can be the hardest for some to realize
Green0Photon
Very cute, as usual 😊
