Chapter 5 – Blades in the Dark
The clearing in Viridian Forest was silent.
Ryan stood at the edge of the stump-marked training ground, one hand hovering near his belt, the other curled into a fist at his side. The air was thick with the smell of sap and churned soil. Dust motes drifted lazily in a shaft of sunlight that cut down through the canopy like a spotlight on the scene below.
Scyther stood opposite him.
Up close, it was even more intimidating than the Pokédex image. Lean and tall, with green armour that looked like it had been carved from polished leaf-steel. Its scythes caught the light in long, deadly curves. Two sharp eyes watched Ryan and Larvitar without blinking.
Larvitar planted itself between Ryan and the Bug/Flying-type, its claws digging into the earth. It didn't puff itself up or snarl. It simply stood there, solid as a boulder, ready.
On Ryan's belt, Nidoran♀ and Rattata's Poké Balls rested quietly. He'd already made his decision.
"Just you and me this time, Larvitar," he murmured. "One-on-one. If we can't handle this, we're not ready to ask him to join us anyway."
Larvitar glanced back just once. The look it gave him said good, in a language beyond words. It wanted this test too.
Ryan swallowed and forced himself to meet Scyther's gaze.
"We found your training stump," he said, nodding toward the gouged wood behind him. His voice was steady, even if his heart was not. "You look for strong opponents, right? We're aiming for the Indigo League. We're not there yet, but…"
He drew a breath.
"…we will be. Battle us. If we win, come with us. Train with us. Become part of our team."
For a long moment, nothing moved.
Then Scyther tilted its head, eyes narrowing. Its wings buzzed once—thrumm—, and it dropped into a lower stance, scythes sliding past each other with a soft, metallic shhhk.
Challenge accepted.
Ryan exhaled once, slowly. "Okay," he whispered. "Here we go. Larvitar, stay sharp."
"Lar!" Larvitar barked, lowering into a ready crouch.
The forest was silent.
Scyther moved first.
There was no shouted command, no warning. One second it was still; the next it blurred into motion, a green streak tearing across the clearing.
"Quick Attack!" Ryan yelped, even though Scyther didn't need the name.
It was on them in an instant.
"Larvitar, Sandstorm!" Ryan snapped, instinct taking over. "Now!"
Larvitar slammed its feet into the ground. The earth answered. Dust and grit spiralled upward, racing outward in a tight storm. Scyther's shape vanished into the swirling brown.
For a heartbeat, all Ryan heard was the howl of sand and the faint buzz of wings.
Then something cut through the storm.
Scyther's scythe flashed out of the haze, razor-sharp, carving a clean line in the dirt right beside Larvitar. Sand and air split, the storm momentarily parted by the sheer force of the swing.
Larvitar flinched, pebbles rolling away from the blade's path.
"He sliced the Sandstorm?" Ryan blurted, half shocked, half awed.
Scyther's silhouette moved again, wings whirring, using the brief gap it had created. It darted low, then suddenly swooped upward, slashing in a diagonal arc.
"Dodge right!" Ryan shouted.
Larvitar lumbered to the side. Even so, the tip of the scythe grazed its shoulder. A thin line appeared on the tough green hide, not quite bleeding but stinging.
Larvitar grunted, more in surprise than pain.
"Okay… Sandstorm isn't going to slow him much," Ryan thought aloud, brain racing. "But it does mess up his aim—sort of. We need to turn it into more than just a smokescreen."
Scyther landed light on its feet again, dust swirling around its ankles. Its gaze burned brighter now, interested.
"Alright," Ryan said, forcing himself not to look away. "Two can play at that game. Larvitar, Sandstorm again—but keep it tight around you!"
Larvitar slammed the ground once more. This time, instead of spreading outward in a wide ring, the sand coiled closer, a whirling shield around the small Rock-type.
Scyther narrowed its eyes.
It darted forward again, Quick Attack turning it into a flicker of green. Scythes flashed, striking into the sand barrier. Grit sprayed. The blows came fast—one, two, three—sparks of light as blade met rock.
Inside the storm, Larvitar hunched down, eyes narrowed. Sand scraped across its skin, but it held the move, controlling the flow more tightly than ever before.
"Good!" Ryan called, heart pounding. "Hold it. Feel where he hits. Then Rock Throw—aim for where he's going, not where he is!"
Larvitar growled, low and focused. Small rocks and broken chips of tree bark lifted and swirled within the sand.
Scyther lashed out again, carving a vertical line. The force pushed the sand aside for a second—but this time, Larvitar was ready.
"Now!" Ryan shouted.
Larvitar heaved.
A shard of stone burst from the sand, not straight at Scyther's current position, but slightly ahead—where its dash would carry it. Scyther's eyes widened. It tried to twist away mid-step, but the rock clipped its shoulder with a solid thunk.
Scyther hissed, staggering.
"Yes!" Ryan punched the air. "We can hit you."
Scyther blinked once, then slowly straightened, rolling its shoulder. It looked at Larvitar—small, bruised, still holding the swirling storm around itself.
A faint, fierce grin tugged at the edges of Scyther's sharp mouth.
Ryan's excitement lasted exactly three seconds.
Then Scyther vanished.
The sound of its wings shifted, higher, more constant. Its outline blurred, then split—
Into three.
One Scyther flickered to the left. Another to the right. A third rushed from dead ahead, all three images flitting in and out of the sand.
Ryan's stomach dropped. "Double Team," he breathed. "Great."
Larvitar turned in circles in the storm, trying to track them. Claws flexed, body tense.
Ryan bit his lip. "Okay. Think. Think. The clones can't hit us. Only the real one can."
He shut his eyes for a half-second and just listened.
Wings. Three sets. But one of them had a slightly deeper buzz, a tiny hitch each time it sliced through the heaviest sand. The real body, forcing through more resistance.
There.
"Larvitar!" he shouted. "Ignore what you see—listen! The real one's the loudest!"
Larvitar froze. The sandstorm around it slowed, no longer thrashing blindly. Its red eyes narrowed, head tilting.
The three Scyther images darted in, blades swinging.
"Hard left!" Ryan yelled.
Larvitar sprang to its left—straight into one of the illusions. The clone dissolved into mist and grit.
Behind Larvitar, a blade whistled through the air.
"Spin and Tackle!" Ryan barked.
Larvitar pivoted, lunging backward more by instinct than sight.
Its body collided with something solid and fast.
Scyther grunted, knocked back, its Double Team shattering as the other clones blinked out. It skidded along the dirt, catching itself with one scythe and carving a long furrow.
The Bug straightened, breathing more heavily now. It eyed Larvitar anew, faint respect glinting behind the intensity.
Ryan's chest felt like it might burst from adrenaline.
"That's it," he said, half laughing. "We can keep up with you."
His victory surge ended almost as quickly as the last.
Scyther's wings thrummed again, lower this time. It crouched—and then launched upward.
In an instant, it cleared the Sandstorm, bursting through the top like a bullet. It hung in mid-air for a split second, framed in the sunlight, blades raised.
"Above—!" Ryan shouted.
Scyther dived.
The move was different this time. Not a horizontal dash, but a swooping, arcing strike, both scythes glowing faintly as they cut through the air.
Wing Attack.
Larvitar looked up, eyes widening.
"Brace!" Ryan yelled. "Guard your head!"
Larvitar threw its arms up, crossing them over its face. Scyther's blades slammed into the Sandstorm barrier, parting it like water, and then into Larvitar's guard.
The impact was like a crack of thunder.
Larvitar crashed onto its back, sand exploding outward. The storm collapsed. Dust billowed. Ryan coughed, eyes stinging.
"Larvitar!" he called, panic spiking. "You, okay?"
For a horrible second, there was no answer.
Then Larvitar rolled onto its side with a grunt, pushing itself up. Its arms shook. A darker bruise spread across one shoulder, where the scythe had struck hardest.
But its eyes—they were blazing.
Ryan's fear flickered into something else. Pride. And a sharp, cold determination.
"We're not out yet," he said quietly.
Scyther landed several meters away, knees bent, breathing harder than before. Its wings hummed in small bursts, keeping it ready to move at any moment.
Ryan glanced at Larvitar's injuries. They weren't catastrophic—but if they kept taking direct hits like that, the battle would be over soon. And not in their favour.
He weighed his options fast.
I could switch… Bring Nidoran out, press Scyther from a different angle. But Ryan remembered what he'd told Larvitar. Just you and me this time. And the way Larvitar looked now said it would hate being pulled out.
"We're not going to win by trading blows," he muttered. "He's faster, and his slashes cut right through the sand. We need something that works up close. Something that hits him when he commits."
An idea clicked.
"Alright," he said, raising his voice. "New plan. Larvitar, lure him in. Pretend you're going to use Sandstorm again—but hold it halfway. When he gets close… use Tackle, and then bite down as hard as you can!"
Larvitar blinked, surprised, but nodded slowly.
"Lar," it said, as if to confirm: Bite?
"Yes," Ryan said. "When he gets too close to dodge. Don't go for his blades—go for the joint. Shoulder, arm, leg—anything that makes him hesitate. If we can slow him even a little…".
He didn't finish. He didn't need to. Larvitar's eyes were already on Scyther again.
Across the clearing, Scyther flexed its scythes experimentally, then settled back into that low stance again. Its gaze flicked briefly to the sky, to the path it'd taken with Wing Attack before.
It liked that angle. Ryan noticed.
"Good," he thought. "Do it again. We'll be ready."
"Sandstorm!" he shouted.
Larvitar slammed its feet down. Sand surged up once more—but this time, as it reached chest height, Larvitar tensed and held it there, controlling the swirl, keeping a low dome rather than a full cyclone.
Scyther watched for a heartbeat, then blurred, leaping into the air again. Its wings roared, dragging it upward, scythes already glowing with that faint white light.
"Here he comes," Ryan whispered. "Wait… wait…"
Scyther dived.
This time, the arc was a fraction steeper, aiming directly for Larvitar's upper body. The Bug-type committed fully, blades slicing down.
"Now!" Ryan roared. "Drop the sand and meet him!"
Larvitar let the Sandstorm collapse. The sand fell in a heavy curtain. For a split second, Scyther lost sight of its target.
Larvitar lunged upward.
Its small body slammed into Scyther's chest like a living cannonball, turning the dive into a mid-air collision. Scyther grunted, air forced from its lungs.
In that moment, as the Bug-type's momentum broke…
"BITE!" Ryan shouted.
Something inside Larvitar snapped into place.
Not anger. Not fear.
Instinct.
Larvitar's jaw opened wider than Ryan had ever seen, teeth gleaming. For an instant, a dark, shadowy energy flared around its mouth, like a flicker of night had wrapped itself around its fangs.
It clamped down on Scyther's shoulder, right between armour plates.
Scyther screeched.
The sound ripped through the clearing, sharp and furious, startling everyone. Dark energy crackled at the point of contact, sinking into Scyther's body.
They crashed to the ground together in a tangled heap.
Larvitar rolled clear, spitting out leaves and grit, then scrambled to its feet, panting. A faint trace of that dark aura lingered around its mouth, then faded.
Scyther staggered up more slowly. Its right shoulder shook, the movement noticeably less fluid. When it moved its scythe, it flinched ever so slightly.
On Ryan's belt, the Pokédex pinged cheerfully.
"New move registered," it said. "Larvitar has learned Bite."
Ryan let out a breathless laugh. "Perfect timing," he managed.
Larvitar stood, sides heaving, but eyes locked on Scyther. There was something new there now, in both of their gazes. Respect. And maybe a minor annoyance at having been hurt.
Scyther rolled its shoulder again, testing the damage. It eyed Larvitar, then grinned—a slight, sharp twist of its mouth.
It raised its scythes, crossing them in front of its chest.
For a heartbeat, nothing happened.
Scyther blurred, movements growing even sharper, even faster. Each slight shift of its weight seemed to happen before Ryan's eyes could catch up.
"Agility," he realised. "He's… getting faster?"
"That's bullshit," he muttered faintly. "You should come with a warning label."
Scyther's wings buzzed. It vanished.
Larvitar braced instinctively. The forest became a storm of motion—green flickers darting through the trees, sharp gusts of displaced air. Dust kicked up in little puffs where Scyther's feet touched down for half-steps.
Ryan's heartbeat hammered in his ears.
"We can't track him with our eyes anymore," he thought frantically. "Sandstorm's not enough, he cuts through it, Double Team… Bite gave us a way to punish him up close—but only if we know where he's coming from."
He forced himself to breathe. "Okay, focus. Look at the field. Not just him."
He scanned the clearing.
Leaves spun where something had passed too close. Tiny chips of bark fell from one side of a tree. The faintest glint of light flicked off a blade as it turned a tight corner.
He noticed something.
Scyther was fast. Ridiculously fast. But even in its feints, it had a rhythm: dart, cut, reposition. It never stayed in one place, but it always passed through the centre of the clearing, using that as a pivot point for its rushes.
The training stump.
"Larvitar!" Ryan yelled over the rustle of leaves. "He keeps looping through the middle! Don't chase him—control the centre!"
Larvitar looked at him, then at the stump, then nodded.
It stomped forward, planting itself right beside the old training stump, claiming it.
"Sandstorm!" Ryan shouted again. "But this time… make it a trap."
Larvitar summoned the sand. It rose, swirling around it in a tighter, higher column this time, wreathing both Larvitar and the stump. The air crackled as grains collided, forming a rough, spinning barrier.
Scyther flickered past the edge once, twice, three times, testing.
A green blur shot through the storm toward Larvitar.
"Rock Throw!" Ryan yelled. "All of it—straight up!"
Larvitar roared.
The ground beneath the swirling sand heaved. Stones, chunks of broken wood, and splinters of the stump itself shot upward in a chaotic geyser, blasting through the sand.
Scyther had been rushing in, prepared to slice through the storm cleanly again—but this time, there was no clear line. Rocks and debris filled the path, spinning in unpredictable arcs.
It tried to twist. Wings beat frantically.
A stone slammed into its side. Another clipped its leg. A shard of wood bounced off its head.
Scyther crashed to the forest floor in a spray of dirt and leaves, sliding along the ground until it hit a fallen log with a grunt.
The sand fell. Larvitar dropped to one knee, exhausted, panting hard. Sweat—or its equivalent—beaded along its skin.
"Larvitar…" Ryan whispered.
Scyther lay still for a second.
Then—slowly—it pushed itself up.
One knee. Then the other. It planted the tip of one scythe in the dirt and used it to push itself upright.
Its breathing was heavy now. A bruise darkened its side where a stone had struck. Its right shoulder still trembled faintly from the Bite.
But its eyes… its eyes burned brighter than ever.
Ryan stared across the clearing, chest tight. His hand hovered over a Poké Ball.
"If we drag this out more," he thought, "Larvitar will go down first. We're close, but he's not that far behind. Do I risk another exchange…?"
Scyther straightened fully.
And then—it lowered its blades.
Not in surrender. In acknowledgment.
It stood tall and still, wings folding against its back. Its head dipped once, sharply. Not a bow. Something more like a salute.
Ryan blinked. "Are you… done?" he asked softly.
Scyther didn't move to attack again. It simply watched him, chest rising and falling.
The message was clear enough.
"You wanted to see if we'd run," Ryan realised aloud. "If we'd fold after the first move. We didn't."
He looked at Larvitar. The little Rock-type was wobbling slightly, but when it met Scyther's gaze, it didn't look away.
Ryan swallowed past the thickness in his throat.
"We're not the strongest out here," he continued, speaking as much to himself as to the Pokémon in front of him. "Not yet. But we'll keep pushing. And you… You're doing the same thing. Training alone, hitting stumps, cutting trees, taking on anyone who looks like a challenge."
He took a slow step forward.
"Do you want to keep doing that alone," he asked quietly, "or do you want to do it with us?"
He unclipped an empty Poké Ball from his belt and held it out—not throwing it.
"Travel with us," he said. "We'll find stronger opponents together. Tougher trainers. Gyms. The League. You'll fight Rock-types, Fire-types, other Scyther, whatever you want. But it won't just be you against the forest anymore."
For a long moment, the forest was dead silent.
Scyther stared at the ball.
One step. Two. Its scythes stayed lowered, non-threatening. It stopped just in front of Ryan, close enough that he could see the tiny scratches in its armour, the way its chest rose with each breath.
Slowly, it lifted one blade.
With a careful, precise tap of the flat edge of its scythe, Scyther touched the button on the Poké Ball.
It popped open, light spilling out. Scyther's form dissolved into red energy and flowed inside. The ball snapped shut and fell into Ryan's open palm.
It rocked once.
Twice.
Three times.
Click.
Ryan let out a breath that turned into an almost hysterical laugh. He sagged to his knees; the ball clutched to his chest.
"Larvitar," he managed, half laughing, half gasping. "We… we actually…?"
He looked over.
Larvitar had flopped onto its rear, arms splayed out, panting like it'd run ten marathons. But when it saw the Poké Ball in Ryan's hand, it grinned—a wide, utterly satisfied grin.
"Lar," it said smugly.
"Yeah," Ryan said, voice shaky with adrenaline and joy. "You're amazing."
He set the ball gently at his belt, beside Rattata and Nidoran's.
"Welcome to the team, Scyther," he said quietly.
They didn't move for a while.
Ryan dug into his bag, his hands shaking, and pulled out a Potion. He knelt beside Larvitar and sprayed the worst of the bruises and cuts, watching the faint glow of healing seep into its skin.
"You did so good," he said. "Really. New move and everything."
Larvitar tolerated the care with a stoic expression, though its eyes closed briefly at the soothing sensation. When Ryan finished, it pushed itself up, wobbling just once before finding its balance.
"Think you can walk?" Ryan asked.
Larvitar snorted and took an exaggeratedly sturdy step to prove the point.
"Okay, okay," Ryan said, smiling. "We'll find a safe spot and rest properly there."
He surveyed the clearing once more. The training stump was now half-destroyed. Stones and splinters were strewn across the dirt, evidence of the struggle.
Nodding to himself, he turned and led Larvitar back toward the main path.
They walked in companionable silence for several minutes. The forest sounds slowly crept back in: Pidgey chirping, leaves rustling, a distant crack as something gnawed on bark.
At one bend, Rattata's Poké Ball wiggled at his belt. Ryan smiled and pressed the button.
Rattata appeared in a flash of light on the path, blinking in the dim forest light. It squeaked in confusion, then immediately rushed to Larvitar's side, sniffing at the bruises.
"Ratta?"
"Hey," Ryan said. "Don't worry. You didn't miss everything."
Rattata turned, fixing him with an indignant squeak as if to say, You left me in the ball for the cool fight?!
Ryan rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, well… you would've been sliced in half if one of those scythes got too close. You'll get your shot at a big challenge. I promise. Besides…" He patted the new ball at his belt. "You're going to need to race Scyther eventually. Might as well take the chance to train up before then."
Rattata considered that, whiskers twitching. Then it puffed its chest out again, clearly deciding that future speed contests with a Scyther sounded acceptable compensation.
Larvitar chuckled—a low, rough sound.
"Tell you what," Ryan said. "When we stop to rest, you get first crack at practising new drills. Quick Attack, maybe Focus Energy if we can get it down. You're going to evolve someday, and when you do, Raticate will be a terror."
Rattata's eyes glittered at the word "evolve." It nodded fiercely.
"Not yet," Ryan added. "We'll do it when it feels right. For now, you're perfect as you are."
They found a small hollow beneath the roots of a massive tree, far enough from the main path that casual trainers wouldn't stumble on it, but close enough that they could find their way back easily. A patch of moss provided soft seating. Sunlight filtered down in a gentle beam, warming the space.
"Rest stop," Ryan announced. "Larvitar, you get a real break. Rattata, light drills only. Nidoran…"
He paused, glancing at her Poké Ball.
He pressed the button and released her into the clearing.
Nidoran blinked at the shift from the Poké Ball's comforting dimness to the forest's dappled light. She sniffed the air, then eyed Larvitar's bruises and Rattata's puffed-up posture.
"Ni?" she asked sharply, as if catching the tail-end of a story she'd missed.
Ryan sank against the tree and smiled up at her.
"You missed a wild one," he said. "We found the Scyther everyone's been talking about."
Her ears pricked. Her eyes flicked to the new ball on his belt, then back to his face.
"He put us through our paces," Ryan continued. "Pushed Larvitar harder than anything so far. But…" He touched the ball. "We proved ourselves. And he chose to join us."
Nidoran studied him for a long moment, then nodded once. She padded over to Larvitar and nudged his side, careful of the worst bruises. Larvitar grunted in acknowledgment.
Rattata, never one to be left out, scrambled onto a root and began demonstrating little hops and starts as if reenacting the whole fight from his imagination, complete with squeaky sound effects.
Ryan laughed, the tension finally easing from his shoulders.
"Alright," he said. "Since we've got the gang—well, most of it—together…"
He pulled out one of the Oran berries Tad had given him earlier and rolled it between his fingers.
"Nidoran," he said, thinking. "Scyther was all about speed and cutting from weird angles. Brock's Pokémon in Pewter is going to be the opposite—tough, slow, and hit hard. Larvitar's great there, obviously. But I think you've got something to bring too."
She tilted her head.
"You've got strong legs," Ryan continued. "We've been using Tackle so far… but I bet we can turn that into something more. Something like…"
He opened the Pokédex and scrolled. It pinged quietly.
"Nidoran can learn Double Kick. A rapid series of kicks that can break tough defences."
Ryan's eyes lit up. "Exactly. That. If we can get you to start using those hind legs more deliberately, we'll have a serious weapon against Rock-types."
Nidoran's ears twitched with interest.
"Not today," he said quickly. "You've already had a big morning. But soon. We'll build it up from Tackle—focusing on balance, then power, then speed. You'll be cracking Geodude like they're eggs."
She smirked—at least, as much as a Nidoran could smirk—and settled down near Larvitar, evidently satisfied with the promise.
The forest hummed softly around them.
Ryan leaned back against the tree, the bark pressing reassuringly against his shoulders. He looked at his team: Larvitar resting but alert, Rattata buzzing with nervous energy, Nidoran♀ composed and quietly fierce.
And at his belt, his new Pokémon.
Scyther.
"From Pallet Town to this," he murmured. "We're really doing it."
Ryan closed his eyes for a moment, just listening to his Pokémon breathe, the forest sigh, and his own heart finally slowing.
Then he opened them again, a small, determined smile already forming.
"Rest up," he told them. "Because after this, we push through the rest of Viridian Forest. We train. We get you new moves. And then…"
His hand drifted to Larvitar's head, ruffling the rough skin affectionately.
"Then we walk into Pewter City," he said softly. "And challenge Brock for our first badge."
Larvitar grunted approval.
Rattata squeaked, pawing at the air as if rehearsing a Quick Attack to come.
Nidoran's spines rippled, energy gathering for the Double Kick she hadn't learned yet—but would.
Above them, the canopy shifted, letting a little more sunlight pour into the hollow.
It felt, for just a moment, like the whole forest had decided to let them pass.
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