FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Heavy rain fell down from the pitch-black sky as two Abras huddled together, a large brown sheet shared between them to shield them from the rain. They walked down the drenched, muddy path within the forest, going at a quick pace, but not too fast, lest they risk tripping. One of them held a bundle in her arms, holding it close to her chest. Ahead of them, at the end of their path, laid a modestly-sized building with fairly boring markings. It was an all-gray stone structure, probably the same color the materials were that were used to build it, and all the same material, giving it a single shade, though the front doors were decorative and red, and the windows of various rooms visible from outside had the brown wooden shutters closed. The two Abras, finally reached the large set of red double-leaf doors of the building, panting from the exhaustive and difficult travel. The male grabbed the door knocker, banging it against the door quite loudly.

Not a minute later, the strong, old wooden doors creaked open, and an old, intimidating Ursaring dressed in faded red robes stood there with a fatigued look. "What's all the damn noise?!"

"Please let us in!" the male Abra begged desperately.

The aged bear stood in the doorway, squinting his eyes at them inquisitively. He wanted to ask more, but stood aside, revealing the inside to them. "It's raining. Come in and get dry," he sighed.

Inside was not even mildly surprising. The main room they entered into had no decorations other than a couple plain-looking flower vases, and it could be assumed neither did any of the rest of the monastery. It had only the minimal living furnishing: tables, chairs, the imaginable things. There were few large bookcases, overflowing with books so much that a few had to be laid out on the floor in front of them, most of them probably on religion or philosophy. The only light was from candles, and a small fireplace in the center of the room near a table.

The Ursaring grabbed a towel from a random cabinet, and then sat down at the fireplace table obviously not big or tall enough for a Pokemon his size. He motioned for the Abras to come sit with him. They did so, sitting next to each other on one side and facing the bear. The table, of course, was a much better fit for them. The bear handed the towel over, and his guests began drying themselves with the conversation ensued.

"Alright, how about we begin by introducing ourselves?" the monk asked with a soft, polite voice, and a soft smile. He was trying his best to cover up his frustration with being bothered at such a late time. "We don't usually have visitors this late." Or at all, given the isolated area, he thought. "I'm Yuben, the headmaster here."

"I'm Biche, and my husband is Gre," the Abra couple nodded together, and the woman of the two spoke up. "Uhm," she cleared her throat. "We...

"We came to talk to you about our son," Gre interjected. The Ursaring cocked an eyebrow.

"Our son... we don't know what to do about it, we don't think we're ready for something like this," Biche whispered, shame and fear in her voice.

'So, she got pregnant and wasn't ready? Immature,' The bear mentally groaned. "I think understand your plight. How exactly do you want me to help?"

The father shook his head, "I'm afraid you don't understand. Our son..." As he spoke, Biche held out the bundle she had been carrying the whole time, and unwrapped it. Inside was an awake infant Abra, but something about him seemed distant, to say the least. "He has conditions we don't know how to work with. We wouldn't be able to raise him well on our own."

Yuben rose up from his seat to lean over the table and get a better look at the child. He took a moment, and then looked a little shocked. "His eyes... He's blind, isn't he?"

The parents nodded, and Biche spoke in her usual timid voice, "Yes, but there's even more to it. He never makes a sound, and he doesn't always respond when we try to talk to him."

The Urasing took a step back, standing up from them, "He's lucky to have survived even this long."

"We want him to have the best possible life, whatever that may be. We cannot provide it to him," Gre lowered his head in defeat. "Please, take our son and raise him here. Do whatever you can for him. We cannot do anything."

"Please, take Shing," the mother Abra held her arms out, obviously trying her best to hold back tears, and not doing very well. "Make him grow up to become big and strong."

Yuben looked down at the child, and his heart broke. He couldn't deny help to such an adorable face, nor to one in such need. "I... will," he promised, and reached for Shing with both arms. Biche hesitated to let go, but she knew it was inevitable, and the Ursaring noticed this. "You can come visit him any time you want. We won't bar you from here."

Both of the parents shook their heads. "No," Gre choked out between tears. "It'd probably be too hard for us, and for him. It's better if he makes a new family here." The two adult Abras stood up and walked towards the front door.

"Thank you," Biche whispered, and then they opened the doors and left Yuben alone in the main room.

The ursine looked down at the child, who 'stared' back at him blankly. "Shing, huh?"

--

A Sigilyph hovered next to his Abra apprentice, who was now in his teenage Pokeyears. Shing held a paintbrush in one hand, and a palette in the other. In front of him was a large white paper board held on a stand, the scene simply what was around the Abra himself. They were in a small room, all stony gray like everything else, a clean white bed to the left side, an open window to the right with bright rays of sunlight coming in, and the young Abra was in a creaky wooden chair. With a final stroke, he looked quite pleased with himself as he laid the brush down.

"[Good, good]," the Sigilyph telepathically congratulated his student. Even though he could talk normally, it was easier to be heard this way, and it gave the young monk more practice at the same time. "[The colors on me are slightly off, but your sense of surroundings aside that is perfect.]"

He sighed, "[You could have told me about the colors before I finished, you know.]"

The flying Pokemon couldn't help but laugh out loud at that. "[I am very colorful, it is only natural for you to mix them a little. You will improve.]"

Shing nodded. "[Thanks, Ava.]"

The psychic flier 'nodded' by doing the approximate movements in air. With their daily routine of practicing telepathy complete, Ava left, and Shing teleported himself to the courtyard.

Outside was almost as plain as in, with the exception of grass and more sunlight. Still, there was the sound of birds, the warm feel of the sun. He could've gone out beyond the walls so he could additionally enjoy the breeze, but there were a couple reason he didn't want to do that right now. One was that if he got too far from the monastery and couldn't sense its ways anymore, it would be very easy for him to get lost. Even with his constant training to push his mind to see farther, at his youth at this moment, his limit had only recently achieved about twenty feet. The other, it wasn't that windy that day.

He would do this for hours, simply thinking to himself, or not thinking at all, and 'looking' around himself. It was comforting, peaceful, and useful practice. He wouldn't peer into people's minds without consent or need, but he still could sense some emotions and random bits of surface thoughts of anyone who happened to walk nearby, and stuff like that helped to.

An emotion not entirely unlike anger ran through his mind, and it made his fox-like ears twitch and his face scowl. Still, he didn't turn his head and acted like he ignored it, of which he wasn't very good at doing. A chuckle rose from behind him, and a Meditite jumped out in front of him - not that it mattered since Shing sensed him coming anyways.

"Greetings, Nonsense!" the fighting-type mockingly spoke as he gave a bow.

Shing sighed. "[I'm a little busy, Pen.]"

The Meditite laughed at that, "Pft, you are not! All you're doing is sitting there looking funny."

"[I'm trying to meditate, which is something one would think you'd be familiar with; both by name and given that you're a monk]," the Abra chastised

"Oh, that's the first time I've seen you angry!" Pen teased, wagging a finger at his prey.

Shing finally stood up, almost stomping his feet as he did. "[I am not angry! You're simply annoying me by interrupting everything decent about my day!]" I really should have gone out beyond the walls...

"Well, if I'm bothering you so much, why don't you practice your fists with me? Oh, but..." he paused, holding up a hand to cover his mouth in fake concern. "I heard that was the only thing you weren't very good at."

"[You're just jealous that you can't use any psychic abilities, even though you're a psychic type!]"

That comment made Pen actually look mad. He clenched his teeth and leaped forward. "Shut up!"

Outside in the courtyard, Shing was on his hands and knees on the green grass. The now-adult Pokemon looked beat up, and was panting. [Damn it. Ever since I was a kid, I couldn't win.]

A Medicham stood before him in a fighting position, one hand held in front of him, and one holding a short metallic silver staff behind him. In contrast to the Abra's condition, he seemed mostly fine.

"You aren't even trying!" Pen teased, almost looking bored.

"[I really am no good at fighting, am I?]" He sighed and sat down, appearing to give up.

The fighting-type let his guard down and took a step closer to his friend. "No, I'm just better, naturally."

In a brief flash of purple, Shing disappeared. "Damn it!" Pen cursed and turned around just in time to see an Abra foot kissing his face. It knocked him down and made him drop his staff, but he jumped back up in a second. He leaped high in the air, and returned the kick with a Hi Jump Kick, knocking his opponent down for good this time.

Shing coughed and looked up to the triumphant-looking Medicham. "Aren't you supposed to be resistant to fighting-type attacks? I guess you're not very durable, Nonsense," he teased, then reached down and offered a hand. The Abra accepted, and was lifted back up to his feet and wiped the dirt and grass off himself.

"[Stop calling me that,]" he scowled. It was a look Pen was familiar with and thought was rather amusing. Though they appeared to argue on the outside, and that is truly how it started, they had over time become closer with fists where words didn't seem to work so well.

"But you look cute when you look at me like that!" the Medicham pointed out, literally pointing at the angry scowl facing him.

Shing sighed. It wasn't worth arguing about. The two made their way back inside, laughing a little and talking about random things. They eventually stood in front of Shing's bedroom door, and they stood there, staring at each other a little awkwardly.

"So..." Pen began, scratching the back of his head and looking to his side. He widened his eyes suddenly and stared harshly at Shing. "Hey! You're reading my mind, aren't you?"

"[Oh, you can tell? Seems your psychic half is good for something,]" he teased with a small grin.

The Medicham shook a fist playfully, and the two laughed. But then he blushed. "Uhm, if you read my mind, then," he stopped mid-sentence as he was cut off.

"[I like you, too,]" he nodded, and focused the thought so that only Pen could hear it.

The Abra sat in his room, painting alone. It was almost as if everyone forgot what happened after the funeral. It had been a long time since Shing had studied with Ava; ever since he mastered his telepathic speaking and maximized his sight radius, he was allowed to privately study on his own. The painting was of Pen, balancing his weight on his silver staff. Unlike before, his skills had improved and the colors were perfect, though he didn't quite feel like celebrating.

He dipped the brush tip into the black ink on his palette, stared up at the painting in a long hesitant moment, and then struck a harsh black line through it, and again, forming a giant X over the picture, ruining it. Then, Shing grabbed the silver staff and squeezed it tightly, crying. It was one of the last things Pen had done, he gave him the staff as proof of their relationship. Why did it have to be so soon for you? Why did you have to be born with a weak heart, and why didn't you ever tell me?! He lifted it up high in the air and smashed it into the painting repeatedly, utterly destroying it. The door of his bedroom slammed open, Yuben and Ava standing there.

"What's going on? Are you okay, is there a fight?" Yuben asked quickly, not immediately registering what was happening.

Ava seemed to have already figured it out, probably knowing from being able to literally read Shing easily. "I don't think we should be here right now."

"[GET OUT.]" The two unwelcomed guests took a step back, a little shocked. This was the first time they ever saw the Abra not be completely calm and in control of his emotions. He kept his back turned to them, but slightly turned his head so they could see his face, and bared his fangs.

The Ursaring took a moment to recover from the surprise, but he took a step forward defiantly. "No. I care for you, tell me what's wrong, please."

Ava began to speak up to stop the headmaster, but before anything else happened, Shing disappeared in a flash of purple.

Outside the monastery walls, the sky was black, and it began raining. Shing took one last 'look' at the home he was about to leave, holding back all his tears. There is nothing left here for me. I have learned and experienced all there is. Let's go, Pen. He raised the silver staff and attached it to his back. Even without a strap or anything else to hold it, it stayed in place firmly, and gave him a comforting warm feeling, as if his mate was wrapping his arm around his back and they were walking together down the same path he had come from as a child. He could faintly he voices calling out to him, but he began to run, and being an agile fox who could teleport, no one could keep up to him as he escaped into the free, open world for a new life.

A new life called for a new name, too.

Nonsense.