Conscious, Conscientious

The morning dew dampened the grass in Skip’s yard, and fog escaped Deon and Skrili’s mouths as they walked over to his cabin.

The sun had only barely begun rising—it was still almost as dark as the night before. Tree fogs soothed the air all around with their songs. Most likely, Skip was still comfortably asleep in his warm abode.

Taking that into careful consideration, Deon and Skrili banged on his front door as hard and rudely as possible.

“WAKE UP AND FACE US, JERK!!!” Deon bellowed.

Skrili kicked the door.

Deon summoned several Twitchy’s and commanded them all to scream as loud as they could, hopping up and down around the cabin.

Eventually, the door slowly creaked open. A baggy-eyed Skip emerged in pajamas underneath a suit jacket.

He even wears one to bed?! Deon observed in horror.

“Ugh…you guys waste no time, huh?” Skip slurred.

“You wasted a month of ours,” Skrili shot, arms crossed indignantly as Deon nodded furiously beside her.

“Did I?” muttered Skip. “I take it you want to challenge me. The outcome will show if I wasted your time or not, won’t it?”

Deon and Skrili ran out of rebellious comebacks. They exchanged glances.

They knew he was right.

“Alright, let’s get this thing going, then,” Skip agreed with a yawn. “But first…”

He spun in place rapidly and faced them again, alert and awake all the sudden.

“Who’s ready for a nice little jog?”

“NO!!!!!!”

“Kidding, kidding.”

~

By the time Skip reemerged from his home in his usual formal attire, the sun had just about risen to awake the rest of Nightwood Valley. It was slightly cool, but bright and clear.

Perfect conditions for a faceoff.

Deon and Skrili completed the last of their warm-up stretches at the opposite side of the yard, and took note of their teacher—no—their opponent.

After this long month together, Deon thought he’d gained a better grasp on Skrili’s subtle mannerisms. But right now, he couldn’t quite read her quiet demeanor.

“Are you ready?” she asked lowly.

Deon smiled—both out of genuine confidence, and the desire to raise her morale. “Oh, yeah. You?”

“He defeated us so quickly a month ago—we were nothing to him,” Skrili reminisced. “But still…I’ve never felt more ready for a fight in my life. We’re a real team now, and I don’t think even he’s ready for us.”

Thanks to her natural nonchalance, it took Deon a moment to detect her sheer tenacity in this moment. He thought he had to provide the inspiration—but her words fired him up even more.

Deon turned to Skrili and raise a hand towards her. “Bring it in,” he invited.

“W—what are you doing…?” questioned Skrili, judgment setting into her eyes.

“I saw some of the teams at the Conscious Competition do this! I thought it was a cool way to get us hyped up!”

“We have to be one of those kinds of teams, now…?” bemoaned Skrili.

Deon reached forward and tugged her closer. Giving in with reddening cheeks, Skrili matched his grip.

“You’re incredible,” Deon told her.

Skrili squirmed a bit, averting her eyes as her face flushed further. “Y—you’re such a dork…What, am I supposed to give you a compliment, too?”

“Uh…I guess not, if you can’t think of—”

“The fighter you were when I met you, compared to who you are now…you’ve improved at impossible levels,” Skrili told him, returning eye-contact. “You’re…something special.”

Deon wished he could freeze that moment and replay it over again. Months ago, he was a pitiful, annoying newbie she felt she had to begrudgingly take under her wing. Now, he could see it in her gaze: they were equals.

“Well that’s thanks to you,” Deon insisted. “Jeez, Skrili…your compliment was way better than mine…”

He squeezed her hand, and she squeezed back.

“Let’s kick our teacher’s butt.”

Skrili nodded.

“Man…no reverence for me, huh?” Skip noted from across the yard. “I take it you guys are ready?”

The team turned, and together, walked towards the center of the clearing. Skip met them there, hands in pocket.

“Same rules as last time, kids,” started Skip. “This is a boundaries match. All you have to do is push me past the tree line of the yard, or up against my house. Fair?”

“Heh…you make it sound so easy,” Deon noted.

“Fair,” came Skrili’s reply.

“Alright, then…it’s time to see if you’ll be stuck with me for another month, quit and start from scratch, or…”

He paused to take several steps back from them, hands still in pocket.

“…If you’ll become legends.”

Deon heard Skrili tap the ground twice. It was the right call: immediately, he followed her back a couple paces.

They shifted into their fighting stances, in back-to-back formation.

“Three…” started Skip.

“…Two…”

“…One…Go.”

Just as Deon and Skrili expected from last time, Skip remained in place. But so did they, posing like statues.

“A defensive formation, huh? No…” Skip observed.

In unison, Deon and Skrili darted in opposite directions. They sprinted in a crisscrossing circle around Skip.

“So you were paying attention that session…” noted Skip, preparing no defense. “But let’s see…I think I know what comes next.”

Probably, Deon admitted to himself.

Assuming he counted his laps correctly, it was time to start. He raised his hand, and on his next pass he and Skrili exchanged a high-five. Then came the second on the next lap, and the most important one: the third.

His heart skipped when his hand slapped the backside of Skrili’s this time.

Wait…really? he questioned.

But in an instant, he understood.

As planned, they both stopped—Deon facing Skip’s front and Skrili to his back—and redirected their sprints straight at him.

Skip watched closely. “Yep…this trick. Whomever will I have to block?” he recognized as they closed in. Confidently, he turned his back to Deon and prepared for Skrili’s strike.

Deon smirked.

He rapidly imagined a wooden plank in the grass before Skrili’s path. She stepped onto it knowingly, and jumped as Deon commanded it to spring her high into the air, away from Skip.

In that moment, Deon jumped and launched a stabbing kick at Skip.

Flick your ankle…he remembered desperately.

With reflexes quick as ever, Skip had already begun turning back to Deon once Skrili shot into the air. But it was too late: they had him fooled. He only slightly caught Deon’s foot as it plowed into his side, sending him sliding across the grass.

Had he not figured it out in the last second, it may have been enough force to hit him out of bounds. But Skip caught a grip and pushed back to his feet.

It was the first time Deon had ever seen him the slightest bit flustered.

“Alright…when did you learn to kick like that?” Skip pressed with a smile.

Deon grinned. Looking above, where Skrili balanced atop another plank he’d imagined, he shot a thumbs-up.

Skrili replied with a quick peace sign.

The success of Skrili’s first call filled Deon with adrenaline. As the one who taught them this trick, it would have made sense for Skip to assume they’d pick Skrili—the stronger hitter—to follow through with the kick while Deon served as the diversion.

So picking Deon to be the real attacker was the ticket to catching him off-guard, especially when Skrili spent much of their downtime away from Skip teaching Deon how to kick.

“Not bad, but there’s an issue with that move,” Skip uttered.

Deon blinked, and within that time a palm slammed against his chest. He slid back, almost out of bounds.

He sidestepped blindly, and just in time: Skip reappeared, narrowly missing Deon with his own kick. Skip pressed forward and continued his masterful offensive, leaving Deon no choice but to block head-on and steadily slip back closer to the boundary line.

“If you leave your faster teammate all the way up there,” Skip explained while launching rapid punches, “I can capitalize on the mismatch and take you—”

“SWAP!” urged Deon. He heard Skrili start to call it herself.

He needed to get out of there, or this was over.

With Skip blocking his view of Skrili’s whereabouts above, he had no angle to imagine a quick way down for her. He simply imagined away the plank on which she stood, trusting her ability to land and dart forward.

An instant later, he imagined another wooden plank below himself and rapidly commanded it to ascend. He escaped into the air just in time, barely shaking off Skip’s hand when he tried to pull him back.

The cool breeze met his face as Deon slowed the flying plank to a stop. He checked below immediately, to find Skrili already closing in on Skip to take his place.

That was too close, Deon thought. We can’t forget about his speed.

Skrili and Skip clashed, but she was a much more balanced match for him. They broke out into a duel as ferocious as the day Deon watched Skrili face off against Pang. Skip was quick to reposition and lure Skrili away from the trees—a successful effort to keep her from pushing him out.

Deon braced his mind—it was time to jump back into it.

“Incoming!” he warned Skrili.

“Really? I hope you’re not going for the same tactic that lost you the first challenge,” Skip commented, the physical demands of his attacks and defenses having no effect on his breath.

“Yep,” Deon said plainly. “BLITZ: FOUR!” he announced.

A gleam appeared in Skrili’s alert eyes.

Deon imagined six miniature Twitchy’s floating around himself. The scraggly monsters sneered, their beady glares beaming.

After counting five seconds, as rehearsed, Deon sent down the first Twitchy straight towards Skrili’s back.

Thankfully, her timing was in sync with his: at the exact right moment, she flipped into the air, separating from Skip, as the Twitchy zipped underneath her and head-butted Skip in the gut.

Skip caught the squirrel in place with a deep grunt, the force sliding him back several paces. He tossed it to the side and almost failed to block Skrili’s kick as she immediately closed back in on him.

Then, it was time for the next attack. Deon fired the second Twitchy, curving it to Skrili’s right. She spun suddenly to the side, jumped and caught it with a twirl, and redirected the creature at her target.

This time, the impact was more precise: the Twitchy caught Skip’s shoulder and sent him spinning down. Skrili followed it up with a kick, and Skip found himself mere steps from the tree line.

This is it! Deon realized. He commanded the remaining four Twitchy’s in proper order.

But Skip spun on his back, and somehow, aimed a kick to perfectly swat it aside. He gracefully twirled to his feet, sidestepping the next one effortlessly. Skrili paused her pursuit.

“‘Blitz Four?’” Skip repeated with a smile. “I only taught you three patterns for that move.”

Skrili shrugged. “We added one last night, just for you.”

“Nice.”

With dust now on his formerly spotless suit jacket, Skip punched and punted the last two Twitchy’s away.

“You have more tricks though, right?” he pressed, shifting low.

You bet, Deon promised from above, his confident smirk returning. Before Skip had the chance to launch forward at Skrili, Deon made his next move:

All around the yard, the six displaced Twitchy’s let out battle squeals. Deon increased their size to roughly Skrili’s height, and buffed up their limbs. Skip hesitated, which was Deon’s chance: he sent them all stampeding at him.

Skrili knew it was coming: in unison with the furry beasts, she rushed forwards. Then, they all jumped Skip from seven angles.

Deon couldn’t even see Skip within the fist-throwing crowd below. He could only hope this was enough to wear him down.

“You altered the squirrels instead of imagining them away, Deon?!” noted Skip from within the horde. “I taught you better. What if I’m a Manipulator, or another Imaginer?”

He’s still coaching at a time like this? Deon realized.

“I don’t know, are you?!” he retorted. “Stop hiding your powers!”

Abruptly, two of the Twitchy’s hurtled backwards, crashing against the trees. Deon couldn’t afford to divide his focus now, so they faded away. But just as swiftly, the remaining four went spinning out of the yard, as well. Skrili let out a grunt, and she too, slid back, catching her footing unsteadily.

With the attack compromised, Deon imagined away the remaining Twitchy’s. Skip stood in place practically unaffected, palms raised preparedly. Their assault failed.

“I haven’t even needed my powers in this fight,” Skip said. “You’re gonna have to do a lot better if that’s what you wanna see.”

Deon clenched his fists. He and Skrili hoped combining the skills Skip taught with variations he knew nothing about would give them an early edge, but they’d done nothing more than slightly slow his reaction time. They’d blown through almost all of the surprises they’d planned last night.

Almost all of them.

There was still one.

“I was hoping this would last a little longer,” Skip uttered with a sigh. “Though, I’ll admit you’re onto something: knowing your opponent’s type definitely has its pluses.”

He ran at Skrili, and she braced for a punch or kick. But instead, Deon’s eyes widened as he watched Skip shift like a snake—he’d never seen the human body move so fluidly. Skip’s limbs slithered as he repositioned behind Skrili and swiped his foot against hers.

While she quickly lost balance and fell, Skip caught her under the arms, spun, and tossed her farther towards the front of the yard, close to his cabin. He was upon her again before she could recover, and moving just as lithely to dodge her defensive kick, he grabbed hold once more and tossed her further.

“Crap!” Deon watched in a panic as Skip expertly pushed, pulled, and used his own weight to shift Skrili closer and closer to the edge of the boundary. He threw no more strikes of any kind, even when Skrili tried to retaliate with her own.

He’s focusing on avoiding her Power Rebound, Deon recognized. If she doesn’t take hits, she won’t get stronger—he’ll just push her out!

That means we might have no choice.

It was time to step it up. Perhaps, it was time to debut their secret Team Special.

~

Days before…

“Nope. That’s all you guys. I don’t wanna know anything about it,” Skip stressed for what must have been the hundredth time.

“Come on, Skip!” Deon pleaded.

“Your Team Special is your last resort—your trump card. You should only show it when you absolutely have to.”

“But we don’t have anything to show!”

“We haven’t come up with anything yet,” Skrili stressed. “We just have a question, to help us know if we’re on the right track.”

Skip glared at them as they stood in his quaint dining room, stuffed from a meal. They were all just about ready to call it a night, but this simply couldn’t wait.

Deon and Skrili had been trying to invent an ingenious Team Attack, but so far, all the most promising paths led to a major concern.

Eventually, Skip let out a sigh. “Alright, what is it?” he uttered with reluctance, practically out the door.

“We want to create a technique that uses both of our consciousness abilities as powerfully as possible,” Skrili started. “But my Concussion power up is too risky, because I can’t fight after it wears off—leaving Deon by himself if I can’t finish our opponents off. And then there’s…well…”

“…I have this weird power up, too,” Deon revealed.

Skip’s eyes narrowed, his posture shifting slightly away from the door and towards them.

“You have a power up?”

Deon nodded with a confessing shrug.

“As an Imaginer?”

“Well…that’s the thing…” started Deon. “It’s kind of…an extra power.”

The way Skip’s entire expression changed froze Deon in place. The Legend Trainer’s face went pale. Everything suddenly fell unsettlingly quiet.

“You…what?” Skip urged seriously, turning to them fully. “And you’ve seen this?” he asked Skrili quickly.

“I haven’t seen it myself…but…it’s happened twice, when he fought Pang,” she replied. “It’s almost like a variation of Emovert powers.”

“When I get mad…like—super mad,” explained Deon, “my eyes glow. And then somehow, all my Imaginer powers get insanely strong, and I can do things I have no idea how to do with them. The first time, I lost control over myself completely…it was bad. The second time, I was able to force it to turn off.”

Skip’s eyes didn’t blink. He’d never appeared so ghostly.

“So like, we were wondering,” said Deon, “if it was worth me trying to master, or if it’s too dangerous. Cuz we were thinking it might be worth using as part our Team Sp—”

“Who else knows about this power up?”

Skip’s voice was low and shaky.

“Just…me, Pang, and Phillip,” answered Skrili slowly.

“Don’t tell anybody else what you just told me,” said Skip pointedly, “and make sure nobody—nobody—else ever finds out.”

Deon and Skrili stared wordlessly at their teacher. For once they could tell: this wasn’t one of his sly hidden schemes, or some sort of interpretive lesson. He was literal, and he was dead serious.

“Wait…what? What’s up with that?” urged Deon. “Is there something wrong with having a combination of powers?”

“It shouldn’t be possible, so yes. If the wrong people find out…” Skip caught himself. He turned back to the door. “Honestly, what I’ve learned, is that people with no powers are better off.”

Skrili’s eyebrows furrowed.

“Where’s that coming from all the sudden?” wondered Deon. “Why would you—”

“Point is: make sure nobody else knows about it!” Skip suddenly concluded, snapping back into his cheery tone as he whirled around with his finger up informatively. “What were we even talking about again…? Oh, right: just the Team Special!”

He pressed his ears to his head like a young child, turned, and exited the dining room.

“Lalalalala…I don’t wanna know anything else!”

~

Deon tried focusing on Skrili’s ongoing struggle as Skip continued to play her and redirect her closer and closer out of bounds.

But still, that conversation from the other day plagued his thoughts. Something went seriously off with Skip as soon as they brought up Deon’s ability.

He could still hear Skip’s hesitant words vividly.

With them, however, came a realization.

There was no doubt left: it was time to unleash it.

“SKRILI! LET’S DO…THAT!”

Skip locked onto Skrili’s punching arm, twisted it, and flipped her with ease. He tossed and slid her against the grass, but she was quick to shoot back up.

She flipped her bangs. “NO!” she refused.

“WE HAVE TO! IT’S OUR ONLY CHANCE!”

“NO!! IT’S SUCH A PAIN!”

“Please?!” Deon cried. Given the nature of the attack, he fully expected her reluctance. But he hadn’t anticipated this much resistance, especially when they both knew how this fight was playing out. “Um…I’ll do all your laundry and carry your bag for a week!!” he tried.

“NO!”

“TWO WEEKS! No—THREE!!”

“Ugh…FINE!” Skrili conceded. “Do it!!”

With Skrili’s reluctant blessing, Deon closed his eyes to set his side of the technique in motion. It had to be exact—but with the amount of times they’d practiced, he knew he’d nail it.

“Ooh…is that a Team Special I smell?” came Skip’s voice. “You sure it’s the right time? Remember what I warned you about when you should break it out…”

“He’s right,” Skrili urged, watching their opponent closely.

Deon reopened his eyes—but his resolve was unwavering. In fact, Skip’s utterance only pushed him further.

He knew he was right about this one.

“I remember, Skip,” he called down. “You said to only reveal your Team Special after you know all about your opponent’s powers. If we’re not careful, they could take advantage of it in a way we don’t see coming.”

Skip nodded. “Exactly. And you two still don’t know mine.”

“But that’s where—for once—you’re wrong.”

Deon’s words were baffling enough to avert Skrili’s attention from Skip. She turned and looked up at him, eyes squinting curiously.

“Oh? You figured it out, huh?” came Skip’s sly utterance. His lips curled into a knowing, anticipatory smile. “Let’s hear it, then: what’s my type?”

Deon smiled. “That’s the thing,” he said. “You don’t have a type. You’re not a consciousness.”