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You! Yes, you dear reader! You want to commission fic from Achi, go do it!

Some commission fic for a @thenixkat!! Team Skull stays together, gets a more community-oriented future, and more approval than they ever dreamed.

There was nothing that made Po Town the closest thing to paradise quite like the scent you woke up to in the morning. Those rich bastards they’d driven off had known how to pick a spot for their little gated community, where the salty smell of the ocean came from all around you alongside the aroma of the fruits and flowers of the jungle. Better than coffee, better than breakfast, with an undercurrent of flotsam that most of the others would never appreciate like those who’d gone through the trouble of Wimpod did. Not enough to wake you up, but to push any troubles away as you got your feet back under you.

Between that and waking up in a pile of his bug-types, everyone but Masquerain sharing the role of pillow with each other, even at his worst Guzma had never been able to hold a temper for the first hour of the morning.

Never in his life had he been the first person awake, and everyone else had adapted around him such that when he finally made his way downstairs, pokemon fanning out like a security team, there was food and coffee still waiting in the empty kitchen. Plumeria’s work, of course- he had no idea how a Crobat owner could get up so early in the morning- and he couldn’t help a small, expectant smile as he went around getting his team fed. Only ever once they were set did he grab his own meal out of the oven, leaning back against a counter to dig in. It wasn’t the best ever served on Ula-Ula- eggs made overcooked by the time waiting, a canned hash that needed some more pepper and maybe a bit of radish - but good enough to start a morning on. Especially with a warm mug of coffee. Plumeria made a mean coffee, and he didn’t know what beans it was she grabbed but a cup took you by the hair and slammed you into wakefulness like your face against a countertop.

Needless to say, by the time he’d drained the mug, rubbery eggs or no, he was usually ready to knock the day into submission.

Golisopod was ready almost before he was, those Wimpod ‘eat fast or die’ instincts never quite going away, and Guzma waited with arms crossed for the others to finish up as well. Even a year after the whole mess with the wormholes there were plenty of people in Alola who would’ve quailed to see him looming like that, but his pokemon merely looked up to assure it was just the lot of them there and continued with their meal like it was nothing. Of them Pinsir always took the longest by far, happy to kick back and savor the food in front of it for ages given the chance. Guzma just rolled his eyes at it, like every morning since it’s capture, safe in the knowledge they all knew it wasn’t serious, and patted it between the horns before snatching up Golisopod, Scizor, and Masquerain’s bowls. The days of pressing it to finish up were long past, it would catch up with them later.

“A’ight, you know the drill! Go get some work done!” He waved Scizor and Masquerain off towards the door, an order they followed with pleasant buzzing, not even bothering with Golisopod. It would, as always, wait for him to toss all the dishes in the sink before following him out into the morning sunshine like a shadow.

He hated to admit it, but Po Town did look better anymore. Patches of wildflowers, ferns, and little saplings were popping up in the lawns now that the junk that’d covered them had been scrapped, portions of the town’s walls torn down. Cleared streets and hosed buildings let the graffiti pop harder than it had since they’d first arrived. That was pretty much the only reason for the cobblestones anymore was to display their work, otherwise he’d have probably torn them up by then too. Really the worst part was they were all happier for it. That those kids had been right when they’d suggested they might feel better if they weren’t living in squalor. Two of his crew at that very moment were strewn out on the left lawn, chatting at each other, and somebody was using a flashlight to navigate the next house on the right. Meanwhile another pair were practicing their battling on the field they’d built in the right yard- Haunter vs Fomantis.

“Morning Boss,” one of the lounging pair called, both throwing grins his way. The battlers, Guzma noted with pride, kept their attention on their battle, no longer tending towards distraction. He threw a wave and something between a smile and a smirk the first pair’s way, not even bothering to point out that he technically wasn’t their boss anymore. It was a habit they refused to break, insisting that even if they technically weren't a gang, he was still in charge. They also had insisted, now that they weren’t ‘Team Skull’, on being called the Skull Grunts instead- giving the too earnest and amusing explanation that everyone called them that as a collective anyway so why not continue to wear it like the badge of honor it was.

There’d been no arguing the idea. Not and winning at least.

“Garish, there’s dishes in the sink, get ‘em before you head out.” With a nod the youth climbed to his feet, throwing Guzma and Golisopod both salutes as their paths crossed on the walkway.

“On it, Boss! Mess won’t know what hit it!” Guzma couldn’t help his smirk sliding into a small grin.

“Damn right it won’t!” The other grunt- Peni- flashed a wider grin as well as they passed, digging through a bag as man and pokemon both made their way down the long walk to the road, one eye on the battlers. They weren’t doing bad, and probably somebody- probably him- was unfortunately going to have to thank Hala for their lessons. It was worse than having to thank Nanu for helping Chie with her ‘Pickup team of Meowth’ plan. At least he just let stuff like that lie, didn’t try to make it a whole thing. But some matters couldn’t be helped, he'd learned.

Guzma didn’t even flinch as a Golbat flashed by him in a blur just before he could step onto the road proper, leaving his Skull emblem swinging and a manapua in his hand as if he hadn’t literally just eaten. The occurrence had become more common the more stable their situation had gotten. Before that it had been normal for him to work himself into a frenzy, forget his meals. Even when he did remember, they didn’t always have enough to all eat their fill, and it was his responsibility more than anyone’s to make sure the grunts were taken care of.

The Champion kid had used some foreign term once, said it meant something about ‘those with power gotta help those without’, and it had felt about right. As much as he wanted a good life for himself, he wanted it for Plumeria and the grunts too. If that had meant maybe skipping a few meals so the younger set got bigger shares, well, it hadn’t been that much of a loss. He was a big man, he could go find something for himself. Lesser things, normally, but still. And there had only been so much even Plumeria could argue, when funds were low and they struggled to even make meals at times. As boss and as cook more often than not, his word on the matter had been law.

Then, as time had gone by, the grunts had been able to get more funds together. After everything that had happened with the Aether Foundation and the wormholes- fuck did he still shiver to think about that damn wormhole- people had vouched for them. Vouched for Guzma and Plumeria and everybody. Not many, no, but enough and with enough clout that so long as she didn’t start too much shit Plumeria could go out and get as many profits in as her team could have battles in a day. The others could go out and get part-time work. They’d even been able to sell off shit from around Po Town that nobody was using without getting people breathing down their necks. They’d been able to get better generators they could fuel with Charjabug power rather than gas, fix up some of the less decorative and more structural issues with some of the buildings, get one of Okazaki’s cousins out to handle some plumbing problems none of them had known how to fix.

It was somewhere between that last one and the decision to demolish the two houses next to the Pokecenter they’d started sneaking Guzma food. Well, not so much sneaking as alternating between insisting on making (comparatively) big meals for the group where he just so happened to get a large serving and just shoving food items at him and running. He’d been incredibly confused, and incredibly concerned, and Plumeria still laughed at him for having to be told the grunts were paying him back. For giving them a place to stay, a family they could rely on, confidence and acknowledgement, for taking care of them as best he was able, failures and all.

There’d been no way he could tell them to their faces that he appreciated it, that they were giving him more than he deserved, no matter how many times Hala tried to talk him through his issues. But, he’d stopped pushing back when he realized, never refused an offer of food, and gone up a few pant sizes for it. It seemed to be enough for them, always grinning when he cleaned his plate and complimenting his new clothes despite their cutting into the still-tight budget.

Someday, it was on a list somewhere in his room, he was going to find a way to let them know exactly how proud he was of them. Not that day, but it would happen. For now, they would have to make do with nods, smiles, and pats on the head from Scizor and Golisopod.

Scizor and Golisopod had given out so many pats in the last year.

The latter gave a gurgling chitter as they turned for the nearest building on their left. Out of all the buildings in Po Town, this one was the smallest- focused more on yard space than maximizing useless rooms, probably some sort of guesthouse before they showed up. So, no one so far had felt any guilt for not tearing it down like the ones between itself and the Pokecenter. Utility buildings were always good to have- or so Nanu had suggested, not that Guzma had let anyone know it had been the Kahuna’s idea first- and they’d since converted it into a nursery and storage.

“Yo,” Guzma called around a mouth full of Finneon and sweet potato as he stepped in, leaving Golisopod outside. There was no answer, which meant Kaleo was probably out working on getting that fence he and his Drowzee’d torn down put back up out in the jungle. With full acceptance that he and his pokemon could take care of themselves, Guzma took a quick walk through the front rooms. Tables worth of chilis, melons, and daikon were sprouting in the kitchen, healthy looking so far. A homemade trough in what used to be a dining room was still loaded down with Paras eggs and mushroom spawn. He hadn’t kept track of what species they were mixing them with, had hardly managed to keep up with Taro’s ramblings when the kid had rushed back from running deliveries for restaurants on Akala.

He’d heard ‘edible mushrooms’, ‘Paras’, and ‘Boss we have to try’, looked into those earnest eyes, and just announced that the test would be coming out of Taro’s pocket money and that if it failed the Paras were his problem. The kid had whooped, thanked Guzma profusely, and ever since had spent his afternoons helping in the nursery.

Trusting that the kids had everything under control there, and giving a pleased nod to see little, tiny mushrooms poking out of the substrate, Guzma turned toward the living room, stepping over the gate with a whistle and a smirk.

“How you little monsters doin’?” The entire room had been turned over to what he would with a massive grin call a small army of Charjabug. Well, fifteen Charjabug. And only four Grubbin. They still didn’t know exactly what had happened to Bonecruncher, but they were pretty sure he’d set up in the walls of the house across the street. Nobody’d been able to lure him back out yet, and probably wouldn’t until he’d brought it tumbling down on top of himself. The rest of the army though, at least the ones that weren’t dragging their little nubbins about evolving, it didn’t matter that they didn’t look up when addressed, or really make any sign that they knew about anything but the big pile of compost they were chewing on.

Those fifteen Charjabug carried the electrical needs of Po Town on their backs. Didn’t even struggle with it. Guzma’d never thought he could love bug pokemon more, but they’d proven him wrong, as the type always did. Two Charjabug a day could keep the generators that kept the lights on in the big house, the nursery, and Pokecenter going well enough. At least, as long as they didn’t leave lights on when they didn’t need them, or use too many electronics in one day. There’d be more wriggle room as their army expanded, but for the time being they managed well enough. Certainly better than they had before, though the bar was pretty damn low.

Squatting, he munched away at his second breakfast, watching them feast fondly, checking for signs of illness with a well-trained eye and happily finding none. One of the Grubbin finally noticed him, receiving a little chunk of manapua and an affectionate pat as it abandoned the pile to inspect his leg, nibble at his shoes. It was the only one to so much as look his way from squatting to standing back up, wiping his hands on his pants, and in reward came another gentle pat before, with a final once over, he turned away.

Stepping back out into the Alolan sunshine to the cheery sound of Golisopod at work checking over the berries they’d planted in the yard, Guzma took a deep breath, looked back over at the training ground. Over the row of untouched houses still sat across the street- they still hadn’t decided what they were going to do with them yet besides use as storage. All the way to the Pokecenter at the end of the lane and the pile of debris just passed it from the two buildings they’d torn down. They’d made for good sources of materials for everything from replacing the broken window in the big house with a big glass door to building crap they needed around the place to replacing busted pipes. Left a damn good chunk of empty space to work with once he, Golisopod, and Pinsir had gotten the foundations torn up too. It’d been good work, the kind of destruction that let other shit grow, like he’s always really wanted, and with a rough scratch of Golisopod’s head, he turned to what’d been their big project since.

Guzma couldn’t have told you what had happened to lead him from tearing up hedges and overgrown flower beds in an attempt to do something with his wild emotions that wouldn’t scare his crew- that baker’s dozen who through family, faith, and nowhere to go had refused to abandon him, even if ordered (“Whether we’re Team Skull or not, this our home”)- to gardening. He’d never really been interested before. But the sight of those once perfect hedges, carefully manufactured flowerbeds, had pressed on him, especially after Lusamine. The bare, empty dirt left behind had pressed even harder. There’d been no leaving the place like that, and when the idea of Charjabug generators had put composting on the to-do list…

He supposed it had just felt like what he should do. Something had to go in those spots, especially after two whole mansions had come down and left their own bare mess behind. The least it could do was feed his family. Didn’t make as many calories as the Chansey and shit Kaleo kept talking about going out and finding one day, but seeds at least were cheap and easy to find, even enough to fill out the space they had.

Besides, you didn’t even need a watering set-up when you had a Golisopod and a Masquerain.

Speaking of, even as he and his ace made their way through the berry trees the smaller bug was hard at work. Masquerain hadn’t hit the vegetables, waiting until the rest of the team had gone through and handled any work that might need doing, but the row of fruit trees along the back was getting a thorough watering via a relearned Water Sport. Scizor had a big basket on one arm and was going around the place with the air of a dedicated student, carefully clipping away any unhealthy leaves and produce it could safely manage. They went in the basket- after all, it was too early to harvest larger, sturdier crops, and the beans, peppers, and herbs were left to Guzma’s comparatively nimble human hands- alongside any stray victims of the mass of webbing just inside the treeline.

Other gardeners had scareow to keep the pests from their harvest, he had an Ariados. One that chittered a sleepy good morning as he came into view, climbing down just far enough that he could stride over and scratch under it’s chin.

“You’re a real killer aren’t you,” he said, grinning wide as it nibbled at his wrist. “Keep up the good work and we’ll be eating like kings here soon.”

And they would be. He had so much more faith in that than before. As Ariados went to bed, as he turned and looked at what felt like vast gardens of vegetables, of young trees. Looked out at the houses, the graffiti. Listened to the battle in the background. There’d been a pride in building Team Skull, in making something, a place and a group where all these kids being failed by Alola could find safety, security, and confidence in each other. But this? This was a new level. Just a year before, he, Plumeria, all of them had felt like they’d reached as high as they could. No hope for better, clinging to what they had and defending it like gold, pumping themselves up with talk of how perfect it all was. Hit or miss power, hit or miss plumbing, iffy meals, but they’d had each other and a roof over their heads and told themselves that was enough.

Now there was power they could count on, plumbing Ami was learning to do herself, fresh food out of the garden with more promised as everything got established. They had money coming in, space and time and the ability to engage in proper hobbies, bugs haunting walls. The undercurrent of hurt, forced confidence, and nihilism was slowly melting away in the face of a future none of them had ever expected to look bright. Even Guzma himself had never really expected to make things any better than he already had, failure eating away at his gut through victory and loss the same. And here he was, watching his pokemon help in the garden that fed his crew. Leading projects to shape the area to fit their needs. Taking them all from a small gang to a small community. The best one in all the islands of Alola, no bias and no bet. There was nothing for it but to grin out over it all in those moments before rolling up his sleeves, soak in the sun and the scent and the sound of the tolling bell-

“Boss!”

There was nothing to grab Guzma’s attention like an undercurrent of distress in the voice of his grunts, muscles going taut and eyes narrowing as he turned toward the sound. In the garden, his pokemon followed suit, Masquerain zipping forward to put itself between Ami and whatever had driven her from the Pokecenter.

“Hey,” Guzma said as she reached him, a hand falling on her shoulder both to calm and in case he needed to shove her behind him. “Hey, what’s fucking with you?”

“Boss-” She looked over her shoulder, licked her lips, then up at him with wide eyes. “Boss, you’ve got to see this.” In the background he became aware that the battle had stopped. A bad sign. Squaring his shoulders, Guzma stormed across the garden, strides lengthening to avoid stepping on anything important, Ami trailing a good distance after. There were many reasons he wasn’t holding down a job or off fighting battles with Plume, and one of them was this right here. Nothing was going to cause trouble for his people, certainly nothing was going to give them trouble in his own damn town. Head held high, he turned down the road towards the Pokecenter and froze.

Stared.

Beside him Golisopod seemed to shrink into itself.

Fucking hell…

No! Nothing meant nothing! Not even a Tapu!

Pulling himself back up, resisting the urge to swat himself, Guzma started down toward Tapu Bulu, floating there at the end of the road, his shoulders back and muscles tight. Yes, it was a Tapu, yes, it had a Golisopod the size of the damn nursery with it, but this was his town and he wasn’t going to quail under anything. Whatever business they had, they could clear it passed him or get-

His past Trial Captain attempts finally hit Guzma like a brick about halfway down.

Golisopod didn’t get that big.

Normal Golisopod didn’t get that big.

That was the island’s fucking Tapu, bringing a Golisopod that was whole sizes too large to Po Town.

He froze again, watching now with narrowed eyes and crinkled brow.

Tapu Bulu didn’t seem too concerned about things, just floating and watching as the Golisopod wandered about the end of the lane. As it looked at the nearest house, the Pokecenter. It wasn’t going to care about either of them, Guzma knew as soon as the situation hit him. No, they weren’t places a Golisopod would want, would give two shits about. He could have sworn Tapu Bulu spared him a glance as he thought it, as the Golisopod walked slowly to the pile of junk they hadn’t yet gotten rid of. Poked, prodded, adjusted various items, slowly working it’s way deeper and deeper until it was clear from view. The Tapu gave a lowing call and he could just make out in the silence that had overtaken Po Town the chittering response. A pleased call from a new Totem Pokemon.

Something twisted in his gut, dark and bright in turn. Tapu Bulu just lowed again, bobbed in what might have been some sort of approval. Then, as if there was nothing left of interest now it’s charge was in place, turned and made it’s way back down the road, bell ringing as it did. Guzma reached back to scratch at his own Golisopod’s shell- knowing without looking it was eyeing the fresh-made lair like the creature inside might eat them- and watched warily as the Tapu went. Waited, forcing himself to breathe, until it vanished around a corner.

It's disappearance from sight seemed to break some sort of spell over the town, and almost before he could blink Guzma found himself surrounded by grunts.

“Boss, what the fuck was that?”

“Why would Tapu Bulu be here?”

“Did you see that bug?!”

“Quiet!” The grunts’ mouths snapped shut as Guzma ran an eye more critical than he meant over them. “Ruki, go with Ami and shut down that generator, we’re not wasting electricity and we’re not using it again today if we don’t have to. Sota, go get Kaleo and bring him back to the house. All of you stay inside until I say otherwise.” They all nodded, those named rushing off to do their jobs and the rest heading for the big house, only one lingering back along enough for a quick

“Boss, are you-”

“I,” Guzma said before he could finish, fishing his phone from his pocket with a scowl and a glare, “am calling our Kahuna to learn what the flying fuck’s going on.” And Nanu better have had answer for him, after his homies just nearly had heart attacks, after he nearly had a heart attack.

He’d never heard of a Tapu personally escorting a new Totem Pokemon before…

#fanfic #pokemon #team skull #guzma #team skull stays together and gets their shit together au #commissioned for me fic #kariachi

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