Chapter 5: “Five Poisonous Organs”

  The hallway seemed endless. Every step I took echoed in my ears as loudly as my heartbeat. I clutched the two books I had taken from the library tightly, feeling cold sweat running down my forehead. After what had happened with that mysterious burgundy-haired girl and her overwhelming psychic powers, all I wanted was to disappear for a while and heal my wounds, away from any prying eyes. My left arm was bleeding intermittently, leaving a trail that I tried to cover with the sleeve of my sweatshirt. I didn’t know if I would find a place in the Academy hidden enough to calm me down, but I couldn’t just wander aimlessly.

  As I turned a corner, I saw a sign pointing to the men’s room. It wasn’t a great plan, but it was better than nothing. I cautiously opened the door, praying it was empty. Inside, it was silent, save for the faint hum of a flickering fluorescent light. The walls were a faded white, flecked with water stains. I looked inside, making sure no one else was there. Thankfully, it looked deserted.

  I walked in, closed the door, and took a deep breath. My muscles suddenly relaxed, and I immediately felt a sharp pain in my arm. I dropped the books into the sink and turned on the faucet to rinse away the blood. The icy water sent a chill through me, and I bit my lip to suppress a groan. A couple of blood-stained bills fell out of my pocket, and I hurriedly picked them up.

  As the water flowed, I inspected my oversized hoodie, searching for the most blood-stained part to clean it up a bit. It was then that I remembered why I had chosen to wear it that day: not just for comfort, but to hide something far more important. My fingers quickly found the scroll my grandmother had given me, the one containing instructions for the Five Poisonous Organs technique. I had been so shaken by the encounter in the library that I had almost forgotten I was there.

  But after seeing how close I had come to dying, I realized I needed answers. I couldn’t trust the world to protect me, even within the supposed safety of the Academy. Taking one last look at the door to make sure I was still alone, I pulled out the scroll and carefully unrolled it on the edge of the sink. A trickle of blood dripped from my arm and a drop landed on the edge of the old paper. Almost immediately, the lines that had previously seemed faint came to life and glowed softly.

  My grandmother had mentioned that this scroll would “only reveal its contents to those with the right affinity.” I assumed my blood had activated it. Without further delay, I unfolded it completely, and within its layers, the characters and diagrams appeared more clearly than I remembered. I felt a strange tingling in my hands, as if the scroll recognized me.

  The first lines described something far broader than just poison—a theory about all existing Pokémon types in the world. There was an extensive section explaining how the eighteen types were divided into two major categories: Elemental and Special. The explanation was so detailed and precise that I almost forgot about my wound. I leaned against the sink, carefully reading every word.

  The text stated that there were ten Elemental types: Fire, Water, Electric, Grass, Ground, Steel, Flying, Rock, Ice, and Poison. They were all connected by a common thread: the manipulation of tangible elements or substances with recognizable physical properties. It explained that those born with these affinities could ignite flames with their energy, mold water currents, generate electrical charges, summon vines, control vegetation, feel the solidity of rocks, or turn their breath into freezing winds. Everything depended on their natural affinity and rigorous training.

  When it discussed Poison, the scroll emphasized its uniqueness: Poison didn’t merely involve elemental control but could “infect” and subtly alter physical reality. Those who mastered the Poison type with real skill could create toxins capable of influencing everything—from the mind to the very earth itself. The scroll noted, however, that very few individuals understood these secrets, as most focused on using Poison solely in traditional combat without exploring its depth.

  I continued reading and reached the section on the eight Special types: Dragon, Fairy, Ghost, Dark, Bug, Normal, Fighting, and Psychic. Unlike the Elementals, these types dealt with more abstract or conceptual realms. I was surprised to find such specific explanations:

  ?Dragon involved the ability to impose one’s will upon the world. It wasn’t just about breathing fire or roaring fiercely; it was an inner strength so intense that, with enough mastery, it could dominate other energies, inspire allies, or terrify foes.

  ?Fairy worked through ethereal and spiritual dimensions, influencing the intangible—emotions and the essence of existence itself. It was as if they could weave invisible threads that connected souls.

  ?Ghost focused on astral connections, manipulating the essence of life and death, and crossing the boundaries between the living and the inanimate.

  ?Dark was described as the ability to “deceive the world,” subtly or devastatingly manipulating realities, shadows, and perceptions. A shiver ran through me as I recalled Vera’s psychic fury; I wondered how twisted a confrontation between an advanced Psychic and a skilled Dark user would be.

  ?Bug caught me off guard: it was defined as the ability to be loved by the world, as if nature itself protected and nurtured the user. This type fostered symbiosis with the environment, gaining unwavering support from flora and fauna.

  ?Normal embodied absolute versatility, an adaptability so profound that those with this trait could excel in any situation, sometimes bypassing extreme limitations due to their flexible essence.

  ?Fighting represented the body itself—physical strength and determination. It wasn’t just about punches or kicks but complete control of internal energy, muscles, movement, and endurance. According to the scroll, a master of Fighting could even transcend human limits, elevating their body to perfection using internal energy called aura as a catalyst.

  ?Psychic symbolized mental control—telepathy, telekinesis, and emotional manipulation. Thinking of Vera, I realized the mind, like the body, could be refined into a terrifying weapon. The pink energy that had radiated from her forehead still gave me chills.

  I closed my eyes briefly, feeling as if my head were spinning. This explanation confirmed what my grandmother had told me: The Federation and the clans didn’t emerge from nowhere. Centuries ago, families with unique affinities banded together, vying for power. In the end, eighteen dominant clans arose, each tied to one of these types, and everything was organized to form the Pokémon League Federation (PLF).

  The scroll added another intriguing layer: although the Special types seemed inherently “superior” due to their abstract forces, the Elemental types had limitless potential if trained with enough dedication. This notion challenged the belief that Poison—or any Elemental type—was inferior to Psychic or Dragon. It made me think: perhaps, with deep study and the right technique, I could find a way to never feel so powerless again.

  At that moment, I carefully turned to the next page of the scroll. The ink, activated by my blood, seemed to glow faintly. What appeared next was an incredibly detailed anatomical diagram highlighting five organs in different colors: liver, heart, spleen, lungs, and kidneys. Above it, a bold title read: The Five Poisonous Organs.

  My breath caught in my throat. I was finally staring at the forbidden technique my grandmother had spoken of. This wasn’t just a story anymore—it was a precise set of instructions, written in clear, deliberate strokes. I began reading carefully, absorbing every detail.

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  The technique explained that the user had to absorb either the blood or venom of a Pokémon possessing the desired ability. Once consumed, this substance would lodge itself in one of the five designated organs, each linked to an element:

  ?The liver was associated with Grass, promoting regeneration and healing properties.

  ?The heart was tied to Fire, enhancing toxicity, spreading it farther, and making it more destructive.

  ?The spleen corresponded to Ground, allowing the creation and manipulation of dense, solid, or crystallized poisons.

  ?The lungs were connected to Flying, geared toward airborne poisons, gases, and dispersible toxins.

  ?The kidneys represented Water, enabling liquid poisons or those that infiltrated slowly into an opponent’s system.

  The text included stern warnings. The first one stated that once the process was initiated, the user had a maximum of five years to complete the modification of all five organs. If any organ remained unaltered after that time, the resulting imbalance would inevitably kill the practitioner. It was an enormous risk, signaling that starting this path meant committing fully or facing certain death.

  The technique also described varying levels of compatibility: high, medium, or low. With high compatibility, the user would acquire the Pokémon’s ability directly and gain superior control over their venom. With medium compatibility, their venom manipulation would improve, but they wouldn’t fully acquire the ability. Low compatibility merely prevented death but left the organ impaired, rendering it ineffective.

  My grandmother had shared her own experiences with me. She had achieved high compatibility only once—when absorbing a Koffing’s Levitate ability, which gave her unparalleled mastery over airborne poisons. However, her attempts to modify other organs had mixed results, often resulting in medium or low compatibility.

  The scroll specifically mentioned Power of Alchemy, the ability possessed by my Alolan Grimer, Dosy. It called the ability highly coveted for its versatility. If linked to the spleen (Ground), it could grant the user the ability to condense poisons into extremely hard and lethal crystals, along with superior adaptability to other toxins. My grandmother had been eager for me to attempt this but had warned me repeatedly of the dangers.

  My pulse thundered in my ears as I read. Just last night, when my grandmother had explained the basics, I hadn’t had the clarity to take it all in. But now, with the scroll open before me, the implications felt far more real and overwhelming: the power was tangible and achievable, but the path was fraught with danger and irreversible decisions.

  The text didn’t shy away from describing the consequences of failure. My grandmother’s notes, scrawled in small handwriting at the edges of the parchment, detailed her own near-fatal experience when attempting to absorb a Grass-type ability for her liver. Seeking regeneration and healing, she had experimented with Black Sludge, a substance meant to boost Poison-types. Instead, it had almost killed her, leaving her with low compatibility and an impaired organ. I swallowed hard, realizing that this wasn’t a shortcut to power—it was a deadly gamble.

  Even so, the memory of Vera’s psychic onslaught lingered vividly in my mind. Her Abra had nearly crushed me with its Psychic attack, its raw mental force suffocating me while she ripped through bookshelves and walls like they were nothing. I had felt so weak, so utterly useless, watching Dosy endure hit after hit just to protect me. Ignoring this scroll and its teachings wouldn’t shield me from the dangers of this world. If psychic clans and venomous rivalries were lurking in the shadows, sooner or later, I’d be crushed by one of them.

  Leaning against the wall, I steadied my breathing as a sharp pain shot through my wounded arm. It was a visceral reminder that I couldn’t stay in this bathroom forever. But my thoughts churned relentlessly. The technique was clear: once one organ was modified, I would have five years to complete the rest. I would also need Pokémon with suitable abilities to absorb—and this raised an ethical dilemma. How many Pokémon would suffer because of this?

  My fingers traced the parchment’s final section, where my grandmother had left more advice. She recommended finding Poison/Water Pokémon, like Tentacruel or Mareanie, to modify the kidneys, as their abilities supported slow infiltration. For the heart, she suggested rare Poison/Fire Pokémon, though she had few references beyond rumors of species from distant regions.

  The scroll ended with a chilling line:

  “This technique is not simply a source of power. It is a marriage to the toxicity within our veins—a pact of life or death.”

  I inhaled deeply and carefully rolled the scroll back up. Only minutes had passed, but I felt as though I’d lived through an entire lifetime in this bathroom. The mirror in front of me reflected a pale face, tired eyes, and a thin trail of blood staining my sleeve. I reminded myself to clean up before anyone came in. I turned the faucet back on, letting the icy water clear my mind.

  The idea of practicing this technique made my stomach churn, yet I couldn’t ignore the sense of urgency gnawing at me. I had to improve my abilities. I had to overcome the fear of being powerless in a world filled with people wielding superior talents, political conspiracies, and devastating secrets. If my grandmother had survived, perhaps I could too. Perhaps I could break free from the cycle of helplessness that had trapped me since setting foot in the Academy.

  I clenched my fists, feeling a surge of determination I hadn’t experienced before. The pain in my arm throbbed with each heartbeat, but I didn’t care. The encounter with Vera had been a wake-up call—a brutal reminder that the world wasn’t as safe as it appeared. I had to act, even if the cost was steep.

  I opened the bathroom door cautiously, peeking out to ensure the hallway was still empty. Thankfully, no one was around. I adjusted my hoodie to cover my face and started walking, this time with a clearer purpose. I needed to leave the Academy for the day. After facing Vera and uncovering the scroll’s contents, I had to talk to my grandmother.

  The corridors felt eerily quiet, the artificial lights dimmer than before. The adrenaline still coursed through my veins, and I half-expected a teacher or guard to appear out of nowhere and demand answers. But the Academy was vast, and most students were likely in their orientation sessions or training grounds.

  I checked my pocket for Dosy’s Poké Ball, needing to ensure my partner was safe. He rested inside, likely still disoriented from the psychic barrage. The memory of his loyalty—how he had shielded me from the flying paper blades—tightened my chest. I needed to become strong enough to protect him, too.

  As I exited through the main gates, a cool breeze greeted me. No one stopped me, no guards questioned why a student was leaving mid-day. Perhaps they trusted that no newcomer would dare break the rules so soon. I turned left, following the dusty path toward home. The city’s buildings loomed in the distance, their outlines stark against the sky, and the faint hum of traffic mingled with my uneven breathing.

  Each step brought me closer to the inevitable conversation with my grandmother—and with it, the certainty of my decision. If there was a way to survive in this world, to avoid trembling at the mere thought of encountering someone like Vera again, it lay in mastering the method I had just uncovered. I feared the possibility of dying in the process, but that risk seemed preferable to remaining at the mercy of forces I couldn’t comprehend.

  As the Academy’s pristine towers receded behind me, I turned for a final glance. They shimmered under the sun, symbols of a perfect future for many. Yet I had seen their darker side. Within those walls, danger lurked—hidden conspiracies, rivalries between clans, and forbidden techniques. I thought about the eighteen clans, each with its own schemes. How many students carried formidable lineages? How many would use their powers to dominate others?

  I resumed walking. The twenty-minute trek home stretched before me, the pain in my arm intensifying now that the adrenaline had faded. But I pressed on, clutching Dosy’s Poké Ball tightly. His bravery and loyalty deserved my gratitude—and my promise to never leave him unprotected.

  By the time I reached the small gate of my home, the sun had begun its descent, painting the sky in shades of orange and purple. I paused at the door, steadying my breathing before stepping inside. I didn’t want to alarm my mother or worry her further, but the only person who could give me concrete answers was inside: my grandmother.

  Finally, with a heavy heart and firm resolve, I pushed open the door. Things were about to change forever. I had made a decision: I would cultivate my poisonous skills, complete the Five Poisonous Organs technique, and become someone capable of surviving in this twisted world. Perhaps the price would be too high. Perhaps I would regret it every day of my life. But I could no longer tolerate being weak and afraid.

  With Dosy’s Poké Ball in one hand and the scroll burning in my pocket, I made my way up the stairs. My grandmother would either guide me or warn me of the dangers that awaited me. One way or another, this was the start of a path I couldn’t abandon.

  The sun set outside, and its crimson glow cast a prophetic hue over the house. In the dim light of the hallway, I steeled myself. It wasn’t just about surviving anymore; it was about claiming the power to protect myself and those I loved. I raised my hand to knock on my grandmother's door, and when my knuckles touched the wood, I knew there was no turning back.