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If you say poisonous things, you are going to offend someone. For example, you shouldn't say something like "Isn't it obvious that a bigger guy would be stronger?" to a large Pokémon who boasts of his strength. The way to survive in the forest is by not saying that out loud even if you think it. However, Weedle happened to do just that. After going to the trouble of collecting ripe, in-season leaves, those big guys used brute force to snatch them away. Sure enough, Weedle provoked their wrath, and got tackled.
All of a sudden, an outspoken voice came from above. "You're making a face, what happened?" It was the voice of a carefree Heracross. Training is its hobby, and it is among the strongest in the forest.
"Since you understand the kind of face I'm making, it'd be nice if you backed off," Weedle answered, without even making eye contact. From the edge of its vision, it could see a wavering, flickering shadow. Weedle could tell that Heracross was training.
"It looks like you picked a fight and suffered damage from a vicious beating. You're a bit like me."
Weedle turned around to try and object that they aren't alike. There is nothing more empty than receiving self-serving sympathy. But, after thinking about it, Weedle swallowed its words. To put it simply, it was disoriented. As Heracross moved its body, the light shining directly from behind also moved: as if the sunlight itself was being manipulated. But in reality, it was just a Pokémon fit for battle, training. And yet, it was awfully dazzling.
Truthfully, Weedle couldn't help being disagreeable–it was just a smooth talker, without any goals, living in obscurity... secluded. Without thinking, Weedle asked a pleading question.
"Why are we alike? I don't have thick fore-wings like yours. I don't even have an impressive horn."
"Yeah you do. A poisonous one at that."
"Don't tease me!"
"Am I teasing? If you're angry, come and face me! Don't hold back: knock me over with a single strike!" Weedle couldn't back down now, since Heracross said all that. Losing control of itself, it jabbed towards Heracross, and toppled over weakly from the recoil. How pathetic.
"Look! Don't you have one? –an impressive horn. Your horn is poisonous!" Heracross pointed at the mark left on its thick fore-wings. Weedle was left awestruck. That's right! Weedle couldn't see the poisonous barb on the top of its head. It only leaves a faint mark now, but it's said that if the poison barb is trained well, it will become a magnificent weapon that overwhelms the opponent in a single strike.
Heracross kept on that there is skill to it. It seems that Heracross was taught by an even stronger master. "Given that we have similar horns, we should be able to acquire the same skill. What do you want to do?"
Weedle immediately replied that it wanted to train. For the first time, from the bottom of its heart, it wanted to become strong. It has a useful poisonous horn, after all. Maybe someday, it will be able to land a poisonous single strike on a large Pokémon that boasts of its strength, all the while saying "did you think that a bigger guy would be stronger?"
"Until then, let's train together, senpai." As Weedle said that, Heracross pointed towards a branch that looked easy for Weedle to grasp, and quivered its fore-wings happily. "Well then, we'll start with sit-ups."
The afternoon light shone straight into the forest, illuminating the two of them.
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