Chapter 6: The Curse: Paralyzed

I lay there, still as stone. 

Darkness consumed my vision. 

I couldn't move, couldn't speak. 

It was like being trapped inside myself, my body refusing to listen to me. 

The weight of it all crushed down on me like Onix's tail, heavy and immovable.

But I could hear. 

Mom's voice cut through the silence like a knife, shaking with sobs. "I told you not to let him become a Pokémon trainer, Mark. I told you!" 

Her voice cracked, and I could imagine her standing there, wringing her hands like she did whenever I got into trouble. 

Her tears hit the bedspread, warm and soft. "Now he hasn't even started his journey and look what's happened."

Dad's voice came next, low and steady, but there was a tension underneath. "Clara, calm down. Let me talk first." There was a pause, heavy and full of meaning. "He can hear us. Do you think he'd want to hear you crying like this?"

Mom quieted down, but I felt her head press against my chest, her breath shallow and uneven. 

My heart pounded in my ears, the only thing I could still feel, the only part of me still alive. 

Dad spoke again, this time to someone else. "What happened to Will?" His tone was sharp, like he was forcing himself to stay calm. 

Then Brock's voice entered the room, deep and weighted with guilt. "We were battling. At first, everything was fine. Will did well—better than I expected, to be honest. He even took out my Geodude with that Growlithe of his, using some smart tactics."

My chest tightened. 

Growlithe. 

The battle flashed in my mind.

I'd been so sure we could win. I could feel the heat, hear the crackling flames—

"But..." Brock's voice trailed off, heavy with regret.

Dad's voice hardened. "But what, Brock?"

Brock hesitated, his voice thick with frustration. "Growlithe took a serious hit. He was limping. I told Will it was impossible to win against my next Pokémon... but he wanted to keep going."

A pause.

"Onix?"

"Yes," Brock answered, his voice quiet. "When the battle started, I had the advantage. I thought... I thought he'd stop. But he didn't. Onix knocked Growlithe into the wall. He couldn't stand anymore."

I clenched my fists inside my mind, feeling the frustration all over again. 

The panic. 

The way Growlithe struggled to get up. 

And then... nothing.

"Then what?" Dad's voice broke through my thoughts, demanding the truth.

"He collapsed," Brock said. "He grabbed his head like he was in pain, and then... he just fell." Brock's voice faltered. 

I could picture Brock, standing there, hands clenched, unable to meet my dad's gaze. 

Dad speak "I... I think I know what might've happened."

There was silence. 

My mom, Brock, and I were dumbfounded, the truth hanging in the air like a sharp blade ready to drop. 

Dad exhaled, long and slow. "He'll be alright. You can go now. I won't hold this against you."

There was the sound of footsteps, and then Brock's voice again, quieter now. "This is his Boulder Badge. He earned it. I'll... I'll come by to check on him."

The door clicked shut, and the room filled with a suffocating silence. 

Then a loud, sudden thud. 

Dad had punched the wall.

"Damn this curse!" His voice was raw, seething. "This damn curse got my son."

Mom lifted her head from my chest, her voice trembling. "Mark... what's happened to our boy?"

Dad's voice was thick, but steady. "An ancient curse. One that's been in our bloodline for generations. A God Pokémon placed it on us, but I don't know which one."

"What? Why? Why would they curse us?"

"Because," Dad said bitterly, "my ancestor, one of the greatest Pokémon Masters, tried to capture them. He thought he could control them. He failed, and when he died, that Pokémon cursed us. The side effects... they've lessened over time, but it's still there."

Mom's voice cracked. "What... what is this curse?"

Dad sighed, the weight of his words crushing the air from the room. "One Pokémon trainer in every generation is chosen. When they face an impossible battle, a battle they can't win, they lose control. Another personality takes over. A Pokémon Master with infinite experience in battles—no one can defeat him."

The words hung in the air like smoke. 

"But there are side effects," Dad continued. 

"Serious ones. Every time the personality takes over and wins a battle, the trainer becomes paralyzed."

Mom gasped. "Paralyzed?"

"Yes. For seven days . The first day, he'll get his hearing back. The second day, he'll be able to open his eyes and see again. The third day, he can speak. Fourth day, he'll be able to move his fingers, then his hands, then his legs... and by the seventh day, he'll be able to move completely but it will increase depends on how many Pokemon they defeated before."

"There's no way to stop it?" Mom's voice was desperate.

"No." Dad's voice was firm, resigned. "All we can do is let him rest."

There was a long pause, the kind that stretched for what felt like hours.

"Let's go," Dad finally said. "He needs to rest."

I heard the door creak open, then click shut as they left.

I was alone again, trapped in the darkness.

---

"Ariana." I called out, my voice weak in the echo chamber of my thoughts. 

["Yes, Master?"] Her voice was smooth, emotionless, almost too calm for the weight of what we were dealing with. 

"How many points do we have now" I asked. 

["Seventy points, Master."]

My thoughts raced. 

Seventy points.

 It wasn't nearly enough, but it was all I had. 

*"Is there a way to fix this curse?"*

I waited, tense, praying for something—anything—that could reverse this. 

["No,"] she responded, her voice firm and final, like a door slamming shut. ["But there is a way to prevent it."]

I clenched my teeth mentally. 

Preventing wasn't the same as curing, but it was better than nothing. 

"How?" I pressed, frustration boiling beneath the surface. 

["You can buy Pokémon trainer experience with the points, or..."] Ariana trailed off, her voice measured, almost teasing in how long she waited before continuing. 

"Or what?" I demanded. 

["Or you can use the points to resist the curse for a while. One point equals one second."]

I almost laughed out loud in my mind, but the sound came out bitter. "Are you crazy? That's ridiculous."

["No, Master,"] Ariana said matter-of-factly, like this was just a simple exchange at a market. ["It's an equivalent exchange."]

I was dumbfounded. 

Equivalent exchange? 

This wasn't a game. 

This was my life. 

My body was trapped, and I could barely breathe, and she wanted to talk about "equivalent exchange"? 

*"Then is there another way to earn points? Fighting normal trainers or gym leaders won't give us enough."*

["You can defeat special characters and earn more points,"] Ariana answered smoothly. 

"But that's only temporary!" I snapped, frustration rising. 

I needed something permanent, something that wouldn't leave me scrambling for scraps every time this curse hit me. 

["There is another way,"] she began, and for the first time, her voice held a hint of something—reluctance? Anticipation?

["There is an automatic points-storing function."]

I froze—not that I could do much else. *"What's that?"* 

["You will gain one point for each day that passes. Right now, we are in Season One of the anime. With each season you participate in, the number of points you gain per day increases by one."] 

I blinked in my mind. 

What? 

That was...that was huge! 

"Why didn't you tell me this before?" I barked, anger flaring. 

["Master did not ask,"] she replied, her voice still maddeningly calm. 

I wanted to scream, but I swallowed the anger and forced myself to think. *"Then unlock it. Now."*

There was a brief pause, and then Ariana spoke again. ["But unlocking it will also require you to take on missions. You won't be able to refuse them, but you will earn points as rewards."]

Missions. 

I didn't care anymore. 

I couldn't stay like this, trapped in my own body. *"I don't care. Open it."*

["It's done, Master. Today's point has been added. We now have seventy-one points."]

Seventy-one. 

A little more breathing room. 

I exhaled, though I couldn't feel it. 

"What do you suggest I buy?" I asked, hoping for something useful. 

["I would advise purchasing Pokémon trainer experience. It will help prevent situations like this for a while."]

It made sense. 

The more experienced I became, the less vulnerable I'd be. *"How much?"* 

["Fifty points."]

I hesitated for a second. 

That would leave me with barely anything. 

But what choice did I have?

I had to be stronger. 

Smarter. 

*"Do it."*

The moment I gave the order, I felt a sharp pain explode in my head. 

A year's worth of experience, crammed into my brain all at once. 

It was like reliving a thousand battles in the blink of an eye, the strategies, the failures, the victories—it was overwhelming. 

My skull felt like it was about to split open.

I grit my teeth in my mind and rode out the storm. 

After what felt like an eternity, the pain dulled, and I could think again. 

["We now have twenty-one points left,"] Ariana informed me. 

I took a mental breath, steadying myself. *"Teach Growlithe agility."*

["Done."]

"Thanks," I muttered, my mind still spinning from the experience overload. 

["It is my duty, Master,"] Ariana said softly. 

["We now have one point remaining."]

I snorted, the sound dry in my mind. "We're poor again."

The exhaustion washed over me, and before I could fight it, darkness swallowed me whole.

---

The room felt stifling. 

Not because of the heat, but because of the quiet. 

Three days of this. 

Three days of lying here, trapped in my own skin, hearing every little thing but unable to move an inch. 

My body had become a prison, and I hated it. 

My mind swam in and out of sleep, the edges of my vision blurred like I was underwater. 

I could hear the faint hum of the downstairs below—plates clinking, muffled voices, the sound of life continuing while I was stuck up here, paralyzed.

I squeezed my eyes shut, willing the world to go away, but that never worked. 

It just made the silence louder. 

Then, a soft whimper broke through the haze. 

Growlithe. 

His warm breath hit my cheek as he nudged me with his nose.

I cracked an eye open. "Buddy... you okay?" My voice came out raspy, like I hadn't used it in days—because I hadn't. 

My throat burned from the effort.

Growlithe's ears perked up, and he gave a small, hopeful bark before his tail began wagging furiously. 

But then, like it hit him all over again, he lowered his head and started to whine, his soft paws pressing into the mattress. 

Tears welled up in his eyes, and he buried his face in the crook of my arm.

"Hey," I whispered, forcing a smile that felt foreign. "Don't cry, I'm okay. Well... I will be, anyway. Can you go get Mom?"

He sniffed, then gave me a determined nod before bolting for the door, his nails clicking on the hardwood floor as he disappeared downstairs.

I waited, staring at the ceiling, my body still unresponsive. 

The light in the room flickered as the afternoon sun pushed through the curtains. 

Minutes stretched longer than they should, my thoughts darting from one thing to the next. 

My father. The accident. The battle I have won.

The footsteps came fast. 

My door burst open, and Mom rushed in, her face flushed, her eyes wide. "Will!" she cried, running to my side, her arms wrapping around me before I could even brace myself.

Her sobs shook against me, her grip tight like she thought I might slip away. "I'm here, I'm right here," I whispered, though it sounded more like a plea than comfort. 

I wanted to lift my arms, to hug her back, but nothing moved.

She pulled back just enough to cup my face. "You're awake. Thank Arceus, you're awake." Her voice broke, tears streaming down her face as she kissed my forehead, my cheeks, everywhere. "Don't scare me like that again."

"I'll be fine, Mom," I said, trying to make my voice sound stronger than it felt. "Really, I'm okay."

She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand but didn't move away. "I'll call your father. He needs to know you're awake. And... and Brock too. He's been worried sick."

I blinked, the world tilting slightly as I struggled to keep my focus. "Mom… I'm starving."

A small laugh escaped her, shaky but real. "Of course you are. You haven't had anything but that glucose drip for three days."

"What's a guy gotta do to get a decent meal around here?" I tried for a grin.

She smiled through her tears, brushing a strand of hair from my forehead. "What does my sweetheart want? Name it, and I'll make it."

"Pasta," I said without thinking, my mouth watering at the thought of something hot, cheesy, and delicious.

She froze, staring at me like I'd just asked for a Mew to show up in the backyard. "Pasta?"

"Yeah, pasta." I shrugged—or, well, I tried. "What? You asked."

"No," she said firmly, shaking her head. "You need something light. Salad."

I groaned. "Fine, salad. But it better have dressing."

She laughed again, the sound filling the room like sunshine. "I'll see what I can do," she said, kissing my head one more time. "But first, water."

She grabbed a glass from the bedside table, filling it with water from the pitcher. 

The sound of the liquid hitting the glass made me realize how dry my throat was. 

She placed the straw between my lips, and I drank slowly, savoring every drop.

"Better?" she asked softly.

I nodded, and she stood, brushing her hands on her apron. "I'll be back soon. Growlithe, watch him for me, okay?"

Growlithe, who had returned and was now sitting faithfully by my bed, barked in agreement.

I looked at him, his brown eyes shimmering with concern. "I'm fine, buddy. Just... tired." 

Mom left, the door clicking shut behind her. 

The sound of her footsteps faded, and the room settled back into that uncomfortable silence.

I closed my eyes, letting the exhaustion pull me under for a moment. 

The next thing I knew, the door creaked open again. 

Mom was back, carrying a tray with a salad—green, leafy, not exactly pasta—and her phone.

"Brock wants to talk to you," she said, sitting beside me on the bed, her eyes still full of worry.

"Let me talk to him," I said, forcing my eyes open again.

She pressed the phone to my ear. "Hey, Brock."

His voice boomed on the other end, a little too loud, but comforting in its familiarity. "Will! Man, that was a heck of a match. I know you'll be back on your feet soon. We'll have a match again , don't worry."

I managed a laugh. "You bet we will. How's the gym?"

Before Brock could answer, I heard another voice in the background. "I'm Ash Ketchum from Pallet Town, and I'm here for a badge!"

I smiled faintly, eyes drifting closed again. "You focus on the battles, Brock. I'll get my match later."

"Take care, Will," he said, and the call ended.

Mom took the phone away, her expression soft but still tight with concern. "Your dad's trying to get you a Fire Stone, you know. For Growlithe."

I blinked. "What?"

She smiled. "He doesn't want you to go through this again. And Growlithe… he wants this too."

I looked down at my loyal companion, who stared back at me with eager eyes. 

He nodded, his little body trembling with excitement at the mere mention of evolution.

"Fine," I sighed, "but only when I'm ready."

Mom chuckled, feeding me a forkful of the salad. "Of course, sweetheart."

I frowned. "I'm not a kid."

"You are to me," she said with a teasing smile.

When I'd eaten enough to quiet the hunger, she stood and kissed my forehead again. "Rest now. I have work to do downstairs."

I watched her leave, then turned my head toward Growlithe. "You think Dad's really gonna get that Fire Stone?"

He barked softly, curling up at the foot of the bed.

"Yeah," I muttered, my eyes already closing again. "I thought so."