Chapter 7: Defiance
It was a law of this world: any moment of peace was merely an invitation for violence.
The sound of footsteps echoed across the chamber—a group of more than a dozen teenagers approached, led by a boy with a cunning look in his eyes. This was one of the few other groups that had resorted to killing to secure their eggs. Their presence alone drew the attention of everyone nearby.
Each of the newcomers carried an incubator, but the one held by their leader was clearly a starter Pokémon egg. He stopped a few feet away, looking at Giovanni, who was still perched on Nohara's corpse. The boy's expression was a careful mixture of admiration and caution.
"Hey, you," he said, his voice smooth and friendly. "I'm Musashi. I saw what you did. You and I, we're the same kind of people. The kind who win. We should work together. A few strong brothers watching each other's backs... we could go far."
Giovanni slowly lifted his head, his hand leaving the incubator. The faint green glow of his power receded. He saw through the facade instantly. This wasn't an offer of an alliance; it was a recruitment. Musashi wanted soldiers, not partners. And Giovanni had no interest in being anyone's subordinate.
"Not interested," he said flatly.
Musashi's eyes narrowed, a flicker of annoyance breaking through his friendly mask. He had expected a refusal, but not one so blunt.
"We are all children of Madame Boss," he pressed, gesturing to his followers. "That makes us brothers. And some of us are stronger than others. Are you sure you won't reconsider?"
Giovanni just shook his head.
Musashi's gaze turned cold. He made a subtle gesture to his gang. In his mind, the dangerous boy before him had only two options: submit or die. This was the perfect time to eliminate a potential rival.
He wasn't the only one thinking this way. Across the chamber, other powerful children were beginning to consolidate their power, challenging others. Madame Boss and Miyamoto watched from above, their inaction giving tacit approval to the bloodshed.
At their leader's signal, Musashi's thugs stepped forward.
"You ungrateful rat!" one of them snarled. "Brother Musashi offers you a hand, and yet you spit on it?"
The tension spiked. The other children nearby scrambled backward, not wanting to get caught in the crossfire. Giovanni frowned. These thugs were serious.
Musashi, however, kept up his benevolent act. "Now, now," he said, holding up a hand. "If this brother is unwilling, we shouldn't force him. Let's go."
His followers erupted in protest.
"We can't just leave, Brother Musashi! He disrespected you!"
"Yeah! Let's just take the egg and break his legs!"
"He only killed one weakling! It's not like we're afraid of him!"
Giovanni knew that any sign of weakness now would be fatal. He slowly stood up, placing his foot firmly on the head of Nohara's corpse— a chilling killing intent radiated from him as he glared at the group, his eyes bloodshot.
"Then come and try."
His sheer ferocity made some of the thugs flinch. Musashi, though wary, knew it was too late to back down— a grudge had been formed. He had to crush this opponent, and he knew exactly how to do it. He'd learned why Giovanni had fought Nohara in the first place.
The egg in his hands must be special. He thought.
"Brother," Musashi said aloud, his voice now dripping with condescension. "You see how it is. My men have their pride. How about this: you apologize, and as a show of good faith, you trade your egg for one of my brother's?"
A boy from behind Musashi stepped forward, holding up a Ground-type egg.
"A Ground-type for a Bug-type," Musashi chuckled. "That's more than a fair trade. You should be thanking me."
"I'll... consider it," Giovanni said, his jaw tight. He was stalling, praying the hour would run out.
Musashi wasn't a fool. He waved his hand, and his gang spread out, surrounding Giovanni. "Do you really think I'd give you the time?" he sneered.
Cold sweat trickled down Giovanni's neck. This wasn't some theatrical villain; Musashi was a predator, and he was done playing with his food. The fight was inevitable. He had to hold on as long as he could.
"Get him!" Musashi commanded. The thugs swarmed in.
Giovanni moved, his body flowing with strange power and adrenaline. He dodged and weaved, avoiding a direct confrontation. He needed to make an example of one of them.
He saw an opening and threw a powerful punch into the stomach of the first boy who reached him. The boy's face went white, and he flew backward, crumpling to the ground.
The attack gave the others pause and even made Musashi's eyes widen. He hadn't expected Giovanni to be so strong.
"He's alone! Swarm him! Don't give him a chance to breathe!" Musashi roared.
His thugs, spurred on by their leader, attacked again. Giovanni's plan had failed— a dozen bodies crashed into him, and he was quickly overwhelmed, beaten, and pinned to the hard floor. No matter how much he struggled, he couldn't break free.
Musashi squatted down, ripping the incubator from Giovanni's harness. He held it up triumphantly.
"Still so tough?" he mocked.
Through a haze of pain and rage, Giovanni stared at Musashi's leering face. He wanted nothing more than to tear it off.
Musashi raised the incubator, preparing to smash it into Giovanni's head. "You killed that other kid like this, right? Seems like a fitting way for you to go."
Faced with his own death, Giovanni showed no fear. He grinned, a bloody, defiant smirk.
"You want what's mine?" he spat. "You'll pay the price."
Suddenly, Musashi felt the incubator in his hand begin to shake violently. Crack! A fracture appeared on the egg inside. The sealed glass of the incubator hissed open, and a newly hatched Pokémon wriggled out.
It had a segmented, earthy-yellow body, a large red nose, and a sharp spike on its head and tail.
It was a Weedle.
The tiny Pokémon launched itself from the incubator, knocking Musashi off balance. Then, a shower of tiny, needle-sharp barbs erupted from its stinger—a perfect Poison Sting. The needles flew through the air, each one finding a target. Every single thug holding Giovanni down was struck.
Though the Weedle had just hatched, its poison was incredibly potent, a gift from its unique lineage. The thugs began to convulse, foaming at the mouth, their grips slackening. Giovanni pushed them off and struggled to his feet.
The newly-hatched Pokémon then turned, crawled weakly but determinedly onto Giovanni's chest, and gently nudged his cheek with the spike on its head. It was a clear, unmistakable gesture of loyalty.
A bond, forged in blood and defiance, had already been formed.