Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The first time that he appeared, historically speaking, was outside of the Pewter City Gym on a particularly hot summer day. After Red had finished the gym challenge by the skin of his teeth, the weary challenger trudged out of the sliding doors with his backpack hanging off the tips of his fingers. The sudden rush of heat made him stall for a second. Conditioned air beckoned from behind. Pausing gave him a moment to appreciate the small town that he entered earlier that day as the cool air lapped on his back. Viridian Forest stood as a wall of nature between the southwestern part of the region, his hometown, and them. Only a few houses treaded towards the bulky area, though most left plenty of room between them and the tree line. Even still, gardens were eaten overnight by hungry bugs-types.

Few people walked around as the sun slid beneath the horizon. The smaller towns in Kanto were renowned, sometimes mocked, for their dead nightlife. Nine o' clock spelled the end of any grand activities. The gym behind him had its closing time at seven, giving him only five minutes to spare once his gym challenge was completed. Red had no problem with it. Growing up in an isolated town made him used to the placid flow of life. Even the pokémon seemed to get the hint as the only one milling around the town was a curious Jigglypuff who sniffed around the gardens. She wanted to find an audience among those already fluffing their pillows.

Across from the gym was a boy that hadn't shed the baby fat on his cheeks yet. Roving blue eyes seemed to be taking in the entirety of the scenery before focusing on him. The pokéballs attached to a belt on his waist jangled as he walked up with all the swagger new trainers had when looking for a challenge. His puny thumbs hooked around the loose belt loops. Red was already prepared to refuse the challenge. Even if the battle against Brock wasn't close, he wasn't going to push his team through more challenges when they'd been pushed through a gauntlet of trainers capped off by the hardest fight he'd ever been through.

"Oh my gosh, did you just win?"

Red relaxed. This wasn't the behavior of a trainer. It was a young boy enamored by actual trainers. The smaller mannerisms made more sense as Red took a closer look with that context. No way a kid that young, definitely too young to be on a journey, would have a full team of six that hung off his belt. False confidence was also all too common amongst kids who were emulating a trainer in their lives, generally older brothers. In Red's opinion, that was exactly Blue's problem with having a renowned researcher as his grandfather, a problem that hadn't been solved in the two weeks they'd been let loose onto poor, innocent Kanto. Ever since they left, Blue was making it a point to brag about every achievement he'd done just a day later. Red already was getting a headache thinking about meeting his friend on the route and getting raked through the mud about being slower in beating his first gym. It's not his fault that he waited around the ground-type gym, hoping that the leader would come back.

A simple nod was given in response. Not in a mean way. Red just preferred only talking when it was needed.

"Can I see your badge?"

He let his backpack drop to the ground and searched through it. It was a rectangular silver case that had a magnetic lock. The badge case flicked open with a satisfying click. The padded, black innards proudly displayed the Boulder badge.

Red frowned when he gave it a closer inspection. There was a smudge that he didn't notice on the upper part of it. Resolve coursed through him. The winnings would go to buying cleaning materials. The first step of his journey was not going to be smudged.

"Shiny!" the boy said, either too unobservant or too excited to judge. "That's so cool! Can I have your autograph? You look super strong! I bet that you're going allll the way!

Another rush of confidence flowed through Red. Already here he was, pushing through the last part of the forest straight into his first gym badge on the same day, being asked for autographs. He wasn't going through the gym circuit for fame, but the acknowledgement still felt good. Coincidentally Red had a pen and paper already on him. The tip tapped against the top of the page.

What did he want his signature to be? Would it be cool and confident, or would it be classy and refined? Reflecting what kind of trainer he wanted to be wasn't possible since he didn't know either. Writing down his name in normal print would be boring. But at the same time, he was never taught how to write in cursive. An idea came: writing in his best approximation of cursive would look enough like a signature that nobody would notice, least of all a random kid. His pen flew wildly around the page. The end result was a bunch of jumbled, exaggerated letters that bled into each other.

The boy took the paper, leaning as far into the tippy toe as he could without falling. The whole act was a little over dramatic in Red's opinion but he didn't say anything when the boy looked up at him with those big ol' enamored eyes. Red knew them well; it wasn't long ago that he felt the same watching those trainers on television.

"I'll be looking for your matches! I bet that you'll be awesome!"

The boy ran off deeper into the city, leaving Red alone. He let out a sigh and shouldered the backpack on. His pokémon were still hurt and he was dead tired from the pace that he set. Unpacking the day would be tomorrow's goal.

The second time was at the entrance of Cerulean City. Admittedly, Red didn't notice him at first. Entering the city for the first time in years wasn't what left him so tired. It hadn't been his first time going through a cave. Going through the cave without leaving the same day? That was another thing entirely. Cold, dark, and his mind kept filling in stars on the ceiling when trying to sleep. Compound that with the weirdo criminals who stretched the trip for another day and he became so exhausted of battling that he was going to delay his gym challenge.

Everything about that was weird and it seemed to have bothered him more than anybody else. It seemed to be a joke among the trainers around the area, and the one time he scolded a pair for practically watching as he was ambushed had gotten him brusquely brushed off. The badge was a source of pride but he had no illusions of being the best trainer in the region. Being able to mow through so many of their grunts had him questioning the entire operation. The fossil that was stuffed into his backpack weighed heavily.

Suspicious glances gave him a piecemeal construction of the town. This was the biggest one that he'd ever visited, with a respectable suburb at the northern end while the southern half had a commercial district. 'Commercial district' itself sounded foreign to him. Houses, stores, and lab buildings were all built adjacent to each other back home. A straight split—Main St., as Kanto wasn't known for its creativity—went down the center of town that qualified each district.

Still, the old fashioned Kanto pace of life still persisted. Most of the roads were still made of packed dirt and the paint on cheaper buildings was chipping off from the sea breeze that was filtered through the hills that laid along the coast. Families walked the streets alongside pokémon that were hauling boxes around. None of the signs of Team Rocket were anywhere at first glance. When he gave a distant scene closer scrutiny, a team of cops standing in front of a house became clearer. The knot in the back of his head didn't go away.

He jumped when a person seemed to have teleported in front of him. The kid had slid underneath his attention, the cops in the distance being much more interesting than the gray shirt that the boy wore.

"Hi again! It's so strange that we met again so soon!" the familiar boy said.

Red relaxed at the familiar face. It wasn't that weird seeing the kid again. Because of how small the towns in the western part of Kanto were, they relied on each other a lot. Mount Moon was a serious obstacle, forcing the locals to know alternative routes that could be used to get around quicker. Those routes also weren't recommended by the rangers for having more aggressive pokémon. It all fit together in Red's mind. The kid was a local who borrowed his parent's pokémon when he needed to travel for supplies. When he finally went on his journey, the practical battle experience would serve well just as it did for Red.

Why didn't Red go through these back routes? Because that wasn't part of the journey. Who took shortcuts when the journey itself was the reward? Duh.

"It's good to see you again," he replied.

The boy's smile stretched wider. "I know it is! As your number one fan, it's now my duty to personally make sure that you're doing well on your gym circuit. Do you know the area?"

Red shook his head. It made his number one fan's eyes sparkle as his fingers wildly pointed everywhere.

"Over there is the bike shop. They're really expensive, but I've heard that you can get vouchers to get one for free. There's also some kind of thing that's going on down south. I don't know what it is, but you can't get into Saffron or something. There's a big training thing up north and a guy that made the PC system. You should check him out!"

Red nudged his head towards the police. "What happened there?"

The boy didn't even bother glancing back. "Oh, that? It's just people being butts. Anyways, you can get a lot of practice with the people that are fighting up north. I think that there's also a guy who came from your town up there? You're from Pallet, right?"

Red nodded again, mind now somewhere else. The scene was calling to him. He just needed to make sure. Once he confirmed that Team Rocket wasn't in the city, he'd be much less on edge.

"I can see that you're raring to go! Don't let me keep you! I won't be able to see your gym match but just know that your biggest fan is cheering you on!"

Though he was still a little put-off by the attitude, Red gave the boy a gracious nod before walking off. The whole situation had him jumping at shadows.

The third time that they met was when Red was just about to throw his hands up in the air, yell, "I give up!" and head back home. The sudden ambush of Team Rocket in the middle of broad daylight was just about the most that he could take. Granted, the grunts weren't all that scary. The nearest that he's been to losing (at all! He's been a lossless trainer!) was all the way back at Mount Moon where they were more numerous and hiding in dark gaps. Since evolving, Charmeleon had been essential in beating pretty much any adversary that Pikachu couldn't fight against. Saying that he enjoyed having to keep an eye on the surroundings for humans instead of wild pokémon would've been a complete lie. Red didn't care that they were weak. He didn't want people trying to mug him!

It was beginning to drag on his nerves. When did the fights become too intense? At what point did he accept that Team Rocket was too big of a threat for him to continue his journey? The grunts weren't giving him trouble, but continuously getting his journey interrupted by them suggested they weren't a random gang with piddling resources (reminiscent of the Argonauts, a gang that lasted two years whose only rule was that they could only train ghost pokémon, 'scientifically' the best since they had only one weakness and multiple attacks made ineffective against them. It was made of disgruntled college kids who couldn't pay for their books and ended when the leader was expelled and fell into depression. Kids even in the current day call each other 'Argonauts' as slang for being useless.). Red's mind kept spiraling. Eventually a pro trainer who wanted a quick buck would be his opponent. Then what?

Those thoughts clouded his normal appreciation of the simple beauty of nature that usually made his travels enjoyable. A little incursion of mountains into the typical plains of southeastern Kanto only had a single pass that allowed you to cut through. Route Eight was known for its diverse environment. Flowers that couldn't be found anywhere else lined the sides of the road while trees broke roots through the craggy surface of the cliffs. He stormed through the pavement—the first route that had an actual road to his memory—until he slowed to a stop. A herd of Vulpix stood at the face of a cliff, looking down at the two humans. Only two. There was nobody else. Red noted that it was most likely due to the group of Team Rocket that turned away anybody that would normally be traveling. Somehow they'd done it to everybody except a single boy.

He approached carefully, glancing around for any sign of a trap. Leaves crunched underneath his feet, the trees in the area shedding early. Flowers were trampled as he stepped off the road and into the little campsite with a flickering lamp acting as the campfire. Floating embers of dust reflected the sunlight around the boy. A single eye cracked open. Red realized that the boy's pokéballs were lazily scattered around.

"It's you again," the boy said.

A chill ran up Red's spine. This wasn't the same tone as the starstruck fanboy. All the same signs were there, from the genial smile to the innocent way that his fingers hooked into his pants, but the voice wasn't the same. It was the same when Blue thought he had the upper hand. One of his hands brushed past Charmeleon's pokéball.

"Did you know that Team Rocket was up there?" Red asked, forcefully.

"I maaay have known that there miiiight have been a ceeertain criminal group who was stealing from people," the boy said, putting a finger on his chin. "I saw your entire fight! You were so heroic, beating them all up."

"Cut the jokes," Red said.

"Jokes? There's no jokes. You're acting really paranoid right now, y'know? Threatening a kid that you have an entire head on his height~," the boy said.

The fingers slipped off, hanging loosely at his sides. Despite the nature of the situation, Red acknowledged that he was being unusually confrontational. They wouldn't accept a child's help, he reasoned.

The boy smiled at the action just a little wider. "There we go. Now we can talk like civilized people. Like civilized people, we can come to a consensus. Here's one: I may have talked with Team Rocket."

Red felt like bringing out Charmeleon just to cut through the word games.

"What do you mean?" Red said. His teeth grit to try and relieve some of the anger that he felt towards a child. It didn't help much, and made him look tense.

"Let's just bring up a hypothetical situation: let's say that a young boy was waiting for his idol to come around to Route Eight so he can be given a sitrep, when these terrible people come and try to steal his pokémon. Naturally, he can't beat them since he's too young to properly know how to battle. Naturally, he also doesn't have any pokémon that are worth anything. Instead, he gives them a proposal to knock two birds—erm, Pidgeys, flying-types, what have you—with one stone. He suggests that they hide up in the trees at the beginning of the route so they can eventually fight against the boy's idol."

The boy tapped his hands against his knee as Red tried to parse through the information. It all sounded too deliberate for his liking, too many of many things that he couldn't think of many of them at all. The whole thing now seemed too suspicious for him to let it go. Why the kid chose him out of any other gym challenger was now grating against each fold of his brain.

"Of course, this is all hypothetical. The boy that we're talking about doesn't actually exist. He only exists in those goons' heads because they're pretty dumb, fo' real. What we have here is a simple case of good timing. You just happened to come through as I was relaxing. Isn't that crazy?'

Red withdrew a pokéball and held it in front of him.

"I challenge you to a battle."

The kid's head rolled onto his shoulder. "Really? Do we have to? Your number one fan isn't nearly in the position to give you any challenge."

When he saw that Red wasn't budging, his hand groped for any of the balls that were laying behind him. The first one that his hands wrapped around flew out in front of him as Charmeleon's ball cracked open. The flash of light that came with the ball opening always sent a thrill through Red's veins. Now he coldly watched as Charmeleon swiped its claws at empty air in anticipation, waiting for his opponent's ball to fall, fall, fall, bounce, bounce. Disbelief colored Charmeleon's growl as his pokémon warily stepped back.

Then came the second ball. It too bounced on the ground without anything happening. Red was starting to lose the glare due to disbelief when the third one didn't either. Finally the fourth one opened up, taking shape into a strange creature that had no legs and a drill on its tail. The tiny wings looked incapable of lifting it up, and Red would've thought it flightless if it didn't hover in the air for a second to give a timid cry. Charmeleon, again, looked back as if his trainer was crazy. Red was starting to think that the whole excursion was a waste of time when the boy hadn't even bothered to stand up.

"Alright, Dun Dun Dun~," he sing-songed, lightly singing the familiar theme of a dramatic reveal, "get it going. Coil."

The pokémon cried as it wrapped around itself. Red didn't recognize the move or the pokémon, but wasn't about to throw the match even if the timid pokémon looked like it wanted to run (fly?) away.

"Charmeleon. Use Ember!"

Fire spat from his pokémon's maw without question. The blaze grew to be barely bigger than his pokémon's head, withering the grass as it flew at a surprising speed into the enemy's face. Dunsparce cried as the blast was enough to make its face involuntarily recoil.

His trainer whistled. The boy finally got up to run into the middle of the battlefield, kneeling down to get a better look at his face.

"Yup. That's burned," he concluded. The pokémon gave a single sad whine before it was enveloped back into the pokéball. "I forfeit. That was close!"

"Send out another pokémon," Red spat.

"No can do. All the rest of these balls are empty." Just to demonstrate, he crouched low and started throwing the pokéballs that were around. They all clattered to the ground, lifeless. "Not really the battling type. They're just to give the illusion that I am. Keeps creeps from messing with me, y'know? Didn't work this time though."

The whole situation was giving Red warning bells. And the conclusion that he came to when the money for winning was being pressed into his hand? He didn't care. As long as the boy existed as far away from him as possible, taking Team Rocket along with him in the best case scenario, he didn't care. The day wasn't half over and Red wanted to collapse onto a real bed. His fingers wrapped around the money. It didn't feel clean.

Without asking anymore questions, he started continuing down the route with Charmeleon taking as big steps as possible to keep at the heels of his trainer. Considerations of ending his journey aside, standing in the middle of a mountain range wasn't going to get anything done. He could make it to the next town and start thinking about what his long-term goals were. Battling was fun, but it wouldn't be fun if strange things continued happening—like the footsteps that were certainly not Charmander's next to him.

Red looked to his side. The kid was keeping pace with him, hands behind his head. All the equipment that he had scattered around had been packed in record time into a little knapsack that bounced with each step. The lantern hooked around his belt, still flickering even when the sun was still up. Red's brow furrowed.

"Go away."

"But my biggest hero defeated those guys so manly-like. I need to see for myself how you train, feed your pokémon, keep that mindset going, and keep butting heads with them so accidental-like." The kid winked. Red didn't feel right in his own skin. "Name's Lane, Lane Rand. Pleased to meetcha. I'm a historian by trade."

"You can't be a historian when you're this young," Red said.

"Of course you can! Everybody is a historian 'cause we're all making history."

Red didn't feel the need to dispute such an absurd statement. "Aren't you too young to be all alone on Route 8?"

"I'm a battling prodigy. My parents let me do whatever I want as long as I call every now and then. Then again, we're in this region where they think it's fine to let children loose on the world with battle monsters. Perhaps I don't even have parents. Hm. Have you ever thought about that?" Lane said.

"Didn't you just say that you weren't a battler?" Red shook his head. It was the only sentence that stood out in that word vomit. "Nevermind."

Past the skepticism, Red was thinking about what Lane said. He didn't recognize the pokémon that the kid threw out and it was absurd thinking that a kid that young walked around the entire region without supervision. The whole situation was giving him bad juju.

His own pokémon were just a single throw away. A random kid setting up an ambush with Team Rocket didn't help him to relax. With hindsight, those earlier praises of his ability were annoying. Red tried chewing away his discomfort on a piece of gum, imagining his problems as the formless pink blob that gnashed between his teeth. The wrapper depicting a Ditto turning into a bubble was crinkled as his fingers restlessly rubbed against it.

"Can I see the rest of your team, hero?"

"No."

"Pleeease?"

"No."

"Pleeeease?"

"No."

They went on like that for quite a while.

Chapter Text

Being free from the underground path gave way to freedom, though what wasn't freeing compared to being 'free' underneath one or two miles of dirt? Mountains were no longer in sight thanks to the massive tree lines that flanked both sides of the dirt path, grass becoming wilder the closer it got to the bases of the trunks. An almost complete lack of any discerning features would make it easy to get lost if the path weren't a straight shot between two cities—Celadon and Saffron. Both their high rise towers would be visible depending on what half the route you were standing near. The constant hordes of Pidgey swooping underneath the copse of leaves were about the most Kanto thing that Red could think of. It reminded him of back home. It reminded him of Viridian. It reminded everybody in Kanto of their homes because Pidgey were so abundant that they choked out bug-types in every environment outside of the forests.

Walking through that brightly lit path had taken most of the day and even if Red's calves started to hurt from how far he'd traveled in a single day, he at least wanted to make camp above ground. Something about the complete lack of natural lighting, the stale air, and the slight paranoia made it feel like the walls were closing in the more tired that he got. The tunnel was used for those who wanted to quickly travel past Saffron because that's exactly the Kanto way, to dig out a whole tunnel to avoid being accosted by the gate guards and red lights. Red admitted to himself that he just didn't like being underground.

Other perks existed than just having the ability to breathe fresh air, see other people, have fresh sunlight washing him; Red was also given more stimulation from the tumor that was hanging off his side. Even bird watching was more interesting than hearing the gabbing. The entire tunnel had been a constant echo of questions. They weren't literal echoes. Lane's voice hadn't risen high enough. One of the few mercies, one of the only mercies. Again, there it came. Red could see the kid's lips twitch upwards, because he knew that the question was annoying and he knew that Red was getting annoyed.

"Hey, hero. Did you get your outfit from a thrift store?" Lane asked.

"I did not," Red said evenly. Insanity, repeating the same conversation down to the exact same word choices.

"Really? I think that I remember seeing your entire outfit at a thrift store once."

"It was a different outfit," Red said.

"I guess it was." For once, the conversation continued. "What even is that? Tiberian? You seriously never got it at a thrift store? That brand is super popular so you can get it for cheap there. Lightly used and only for 30 pokédollars! Give or take."

Red's brain scratched to a halt. The Pidgey froze in the air and clouds stuck to the sky. Thirty pokédollars? It lingered like a bad nightmare. That price was outrageously cheap. Threads with true quality usually had an insane price tag. 'Tiberian: trainer-proofed', producing hardy outfits that would withstand any pokémon attack with their durable materials while being affordable enough that any joe schmo trainer without any sponsorships could survive with them. Thirty pokédollars? Selling a single potion would allow him to buy multiple outfits just in case there were any accidents.

Still, his tormentor had a genuinely curious expression—one that was filled with lies. Now that he'd seen the boy's faces turn from emotion to emotion on the flip of a dime, Red gave him the proper amount of wariness. It was the same procedure one had when dealing with a wild pokémon known for having an aggressive disposition. Cute gestures might've been its lure cast out into the sea of idiot humans who ignored the 'do not touch the wild pokémon' signs.

"It isn't that cheap," Red dismissed.

"You've never been in a thrift store, have you? They sell second-second-hand, so you're getting something that may-may-maybe smell like Meowth pee. You can't beat the price though. I've had to learn how to budget since I'm on my own," Lane said.

Red pointed to the side of the road. Partially so he didn't have to continue listening. "We're making camp here."

Laying on the soft grass while staring at the stars also reminded him of home, the part of home where his mom would come and urge him to come sleep inside. So going on a journey was somewhat of a rebellion. Take that, mom, he thought to himself.

Their camp was set up in record time. Neither had tents. Both only had sleeping bags and the bare necessities for the field. Red's little portable stove buzzed angrily as it heated up the pot with ingredients chucked in without much care. Lane was content chewing on an energy bar, packed full of ingredients that made it taste like plaster.

Their pokémon spread out to their own sides. Charmeleon regarded the placid Dunsparce warily, who was chewing on a strange mix of green ingredients that were dropped into a bowl by his trainer. It made Red feel a little embarrassed since he just used the generic pokéfood for his own pokémon. Those green leaves had a luster that the brown pellets lacked. It made the bowl look nice enough that even Red was tempted to take a bite. Red was not a weirdo! Brown pellets only invited morbid curiosity, tepid little bites. Those leaves looked healthy enough for a human's salad.

He nearly dropped his bowl when the second pokémon appeared behind Lane. Pink stripes ran down its legs and little scythes that were on the ends of its arms gave conflicting evidence as to whether it was dangerous. Charmeleon let out a little puff of fire into its food in surprise before taking a combative stance in front of his trainer.

Lane didn't even acknowledge the two as a brush came out from his pack, going down the pokémon's body. It trilled in pleasure.

"Where did that come from?" Red asked.

The green tips that were on the top of the pokémon's head were carefully inspected. Each one was flicked, checking a quality that Red couldn't discern.

"You're asking the wrong questions, my friend. What you should be asking is how little Lulu's leaves have gotten this healthy without a proper washing for the past few weeks." He flicked through each of them one more time before hugging the pokémon. "You're the best Lurantis ever! Yes you are!"

Red took out his pokédex. The device beeped a few times to confirm that the pokémon was registered. No information was spat out unlike the other times he'd used it. That never happened before, though Red would confess that he was thinking about how awesome fire-types were when the good Professor was lecturing about the mechanics behind the technology.

"This from Johto?" Red asked.

"Which one are you talking about?" Lane asked.

Another pokémon waddled out from behind him. Its green and pink coloration were the only indication that it was the pre-evolution of the larger pokémon. When it collapsed next to its trainer, the thing barely reached above Red's ankles. It looked like a walking bud with little scythes as hands. Giant red eyes glanced up at Red before they looked adoringly at their trainer.

"Hold on, Fomantis. I'll get to you in a second," Lane said.

Deciding that he was done getting his questions evaded, Red just grumbled, "nevermind," and went back to his food.

Despair reached new heights when the two had finally entered Celadon. On one hand, the amount of wonder that was behind each glass pane and swirly waves above each vent made Red's head spin around like a ballerina. The slightly widened eyes that he wore since first entering the city was his equivalent of gasping at every sight. Buildings that rose past three stories every block gave the place a much denser feeling despite the city being barely bigger than the other places that Red had visited. It felt like the turning streets were infinite as they were guided by signs around the landmarks that the city boasted. Everything combined together to make Red wonder how he'd ever get the full view of the city. It'd take weeks to experience everything!

Then came the other hand, clenched into a fist. The first member of Team Rocket was lounging against a building with a phone to his ear. A single glance towards them made his eyes bulge before he ducked into the nearest door. The next was strolling down the street with bags of groceries piled in his hands. The third was lounging on a bench. More and more ground covered revealed that the grunts were about as ubiquitous as the Rattata scurrying around in the alleyways. Red hardly saw a distinction.

In front of a restaurant was a group of grunts leaving just as the boys were about to enter. One of them noticed, whispered to the others, making the entire group shuffle off with glares thrown at the pair. Red readjusted his cap while Lane pressed his face against the restaurant's glass. All kinds of dishes were splayed on the tables inside.

"There's so many," Red said.

Lane pried his gaze loose. "I know! What do you think you're going to get? Too many options, right?"

Red ignored him, walking into the restaurant.

Waitresses dressed up in poofy outfits scuttled around with trays carrying orders or pressed against their bosoms. Pokémon sat at the feet of their trainers eating their own dishes as casual conversations were carried out on the tables. A bouncy atmosphere made Red temporarily forget about the problems outside of the doors. He took a seat against the wall and let out Charmeleon to join him. The pokémon curled on his feet, content to rest for a moment. From the little attention that was divided away from Team Rocket, the place they decided on was mostly foreign food that he'd never heard of and couldn't pronounce. There was the coward's way out on the bottom of the menu with a few options for sushi.

Unfortunately, Lane took the seat across from him. Wishful thinking allowed Red to imagine that the boy would be so enamored with the food that he'd wander off.

"Stop following me," Red said.

"But then I won't be able to see your heroic trysts, hero," Lane said.

"Stop calling me 'hero'," Red said.

"What else would I call somebody who beats so many Team Rocket bad guys?" Lane asked.

"I've only beaten Team Rocket three times. It's not that impressive," Red said. He did a double-take. "Wait, how do you know how many times I've beaten Team Rocket? You weren't at Mt. Moon or the other time."

Lane knocked on the table. His pokémon suspiciously dropped down from his back as if they appeared there—a magician's trick. Red was still trying to figure out how that worked. Did they learn how to break out of their balls without making a flash or were there secret pokéballs that were hidden? Charmeleoen shied away from the tiny bulb pokémon that waddled over to it, sniffing the flame on its tail questioningly, while Dunsparce just curled under his trainer's chair.

"You've got to pump yourself up! You have two pokémon who've beaten a bunch of goons!" Lane leaned forwards, elbows on the table. "So when are you getting another one? Don't think that the grass gym will be easy! I think that you need to train up another pokémon before even thinking of defeating Erika."

"I thought that you were a historian, not a coach. And what about the Team Rocket thing?" Red said.

Lane physically waved that off, schooling his face to look as bored as possible. "History is the greatest coach you can have. Example: history tells us that you're finally getting into the scrub stomping gyms."

Realizing that he wasn't going to get an answer, Red decided to do what he did best: go with the flow and pretend that it didn't bother him. "'Scrub'?"

"Noob. Newbie. Whatever term you want. You're a scrub. Without another pokémon, it'll look like you can't actually juggle a real team. You think that people don't walk into the grass gym thinking that it'll be easy with their fire-type? Psh. Good luck. You'll be another name under her boot. She'll have prepared for people like you. It's honestly a miracle you got a Pikachu so you didn't get stomped at the water gym," Lane said.

Red looked underneath the table. Charmeleon was chasing around his own tail. He would've let Pikachu out too if there wasn't a clear 'No more than three pokémon per table' warning in bold letters at the bottom of the menu. As much as he didn't like Lane, he wasn't going to force the boy's pokémon inside their balls.

A waitress came to take their orders which gave him some time to organize his thoughts. He lightly thumped a fist on his knee, glancing around the restaurant for any Team Rocket grunts. Wouldn't want to advertise that he didn't have a full team to the people that didn't like him. Listening to Lane didn't mean that he valued the boy's opinion. He'd already been having the same doubts.

"What are you suggesting?" Red asked.

Lane splayed his hands out on the table.

"The way I see it, you've got a huge web of options. You got a rod, right? Go fish. There's pokémon outside of the city. Heck, a few of them are inside of it too. You want to know a secret though?" Lane gave conspiratorial glances to the rest of the room before leaning in. "I think that I saw a pokéball just laying in the garbage back at the entrance of town."

Red blinked rapidly, double checking to make sure that nobody heard. "Really?"

"Yeah. It was just laying there, up for grabs. Pretty sure it had something in it too, 'cause it was moving around."

"That's a crime," Red said bluntly.

"Which part? Throwing away your pokémon or taking it?" He tapped his chin. "I suppose that a good lawyer could get you sued for stealing somebody's pokémon. However, let's present a hypothetical scenario: we get the pokéball, release the pokémon inside so that you can get bonded with it, and then we notify the appropriate authorities. No harm no foul if the pokémon turns out that it likes us and that its owner is a pile of garbage."

"You're shady," Red said.

"Anything for my hero!"

"Stop calling me that."

Their meals came on a platter, impressively balanced by the waitress who came at a hurried pace. Sushi slid across the table in front of the boys and a single bowl was gently placed on the ground. Charmeleon was eating out of the bowl before it even touched the ground.

Red wondered why Lane's pokémon weren't eating anything. After a few moments to consider it, he decided not to ask, which ended up being the right decision because the old man loudly talking behind him said a word that he caught in the milieu of chatter.

"—Team Rocket all over the place! I swear, where are they even going? Being one of the biggest cities in the world has its perks but it gets crazy here sometimes. They could be in one of the buildings, heck, why not the department store? There's plenty of storage that it needs and they could easily set up stuff back there. What about those hidden floors beneath the game corner? Maybe they're real!"

Red's eyes narrowed as he popped another sushi in his mouth.

Lane heard the man too and chuffed. "Pfft. Biggest city, huh?"

That ripped the eavesdropper from his focus. Though annoyed, Red was curious enough that he said, "yeah, one of the biggest. This is a known fact."

"Pfft. Sure. Believe that if you want, Mr. Kanto. Just know that the world is laaarge and you're very smaaaall."

Annoyed, Red didn't respond for the rest of their meal.

When they got back to the streets, he couldn't stop thinking about what-ifs. They were already talking. Some recognized him. They could be the ones to strike first. And unlike the first ambush, there was no way that Red could take on an entire city full of them. Even if Lane pitched in with his own pokémon, Red counted fifteen grunts since they'd entered. Even more could be hiding in this mysterious base of theirs, if it existed.

What if he didn't wait? What if he took preemptive action and struck them before they could make a response? Charmeleon waddled faithfully behind his trainer, a dopey look with its jaw bouncing with each step. On Lane's shoulder, the tiny bulb pokémon had its 'leaves' around its bulb shudder in ecstasy as they walked from the shade into the direct sun. Another group of Team Rocket who were hanging around the outside of the game corner handing out pamphlets secured his opinion—not even innocuous on the surface. He walked past without a fuss and went back to the city's entrance.

True to Lane's word, there was a pokéball nudged inside a used ramen cup at the top of the can. Red reached in for the ball paying no mind to the sludgy texture. It looked perfectly fine, though there was no indication of a pokémon being inside of it.

"How do you know that there's a pokémon in here?" Red asked.

"I saw it wiggle," Lane said.

"And you didn't bring this up because…"

Lane shrugged, tapping the side of his head. "You've got to let things move along sometimes. Other times, not. Time waits for no man, 'specially one that's stubborn."

Red wasn't even sure if he was being mocked or not with a statement as vague as that, which left behind dull annoyance in his throat. Even still, the ball in his hand wasn't moving. He'd heard that strong pokémon could break out of the pokéball's restraints when they were already captured. Many stories abound about strange circumstances that made a weaker pokémon break out of the ball too, generally to save their trainer. Red wasn't certain about how much the pokémon could 'see' in there. If there ever was a moment to escape the pokéball's captivity then it was certainly at the point when its home smelled like rotten fish.

He threw the ball to experiment. To his shock, a streak of lightning flew across the alleyway. It formed into a pokémon who immediately started grooming itself.

"An Eevee!"

Eevee whipped its entire body around as if to shake off the gunk that had coated his home. Wide, unquestioning eyes looked up to the two boys.

"Why're you so shocked?" Lane asked, petting his Fomantis with the back of his finger. The pokémon leaned into his touch. "S'not that surprising."

"Of course it is. These guys are rare." The Eevee glared up at him. "Hm? Oh, girl. These girls are rare."

He kneeled down to get a better look at the pokémon. Her fur wasn't lustrous nor faded. No significant abrasions were anywhere on its body. By all accounts the pokémon left behind in a garbage can was a fully functioning, average Eevee. Not that Red was a nurse. He only helped out at the lab occasionally and learned more about the common species of Kanto rather than their more exotic ones. He brushed behind the pokémon's ears, causing them to flick.

Lane crouched down next to him, squatting until he could nearly nuzzle his nose on hers.

"There's lotsa rare pokémon in the world. Ain't it rarer to be a well-trained mon than being any species? Well, that's just my opinion. You gonna catch it?"

Eevee jumped up, yipping at the possibility. Red had to back away so she didn't accidentally bash into his skull.

"The Pokémon Center is right here. We'll see if her owner is anywhere near."

Though she didn't seem too enthused over the possibility of being separated, she still willingly jumped into his proffered arms. Red's masculinity wasn't strong enough to resist the soft fur brushing against his. Leaning down, he rubbed his cheek against her head. The knowing look from Lane didn't even sour his mood.

Pokémon Centers were a ubiquitous presence no matter what part of the region you were, whether that be scenic nowhere or sometimes in the center of routes. Pokémon were ubiquitous, therefore care for them had to be also. Stepping into one would immerse you within a new, comforting world. It was unlike hospitals, in Red's opinion; the universal appearance of them and modern methods of care being near-risk free created a place where problems were solved. He heard from Professor Oak that creating the homely atmosphere was also done by intentionally making them community centers, there being a reserved set of tables for waiting trainers while the others could be used by anybody as long as the center wasn't busy. The same music as anywhere else softly played over their speakers whenever it wasn't being used for an announcement.

Red's pokémon were given to the cheery woman at the desk while Lane handed in his Dunsparce. They spent the next thirty minutes mostly in blissful quiet, or the kind of quiet that Red loved—to just sit back and let the world wash past him. Enthusiastic kids played cards at the table next to them. An Alakazam was doing magic tricks for a small crowd. Somebody was nervously chewing their collar, spitting it out and looking around occasionally before doing it again. Lane groomed his Lurantis while chatting with a man who was doing the same with his Spearow. The few bits that Red listened to were them comparing the strange parts of their own grooming processes that came with their specific pokémon. The man lamented over how delicate clipping the claws were while Lane was spraying his pokémon with a water bottle labeled, "LULU'S, DO NOT USE ANYWHERE ELSE."

When they were called up, Red felt as though a joke was being played on him. By all accounts, her owner didn't exist. The pokéball wasn't even registered as having captured a pokémon. Red held it in slight defeat as the Eevee dutifully ran circles around her new trainer.

It felt like cheating to get a rare pokémon that easily. The entire point of a journey was instilling good values in the kids before they went back to normal society. One of those virtues was being able to cooperate, persuade, and learn how to live with pokémon. All of those were completely glided by when he coincidentally picked up a loose pokémon in the alleyway—one that seemed well-trained too, as it occasionally stopped its frenetic laps to throw a few moves out into the wind. Not only that, there was the smug aura radiating off the boy right next to him. There was no change in expression or mannerisms. Red just knew that at some point it would be brought up.

He took in his team one more time. Eevee would need training for the grass gym. Charmeleon had plenty of practice after the amount of goons and trainers that had besieged him since Lavender Town. Pikachu was a weaker link for many reasons. It seemed that they would be in the city for quite a while, coexisting next to Team Rocket.

"Y'know, I've got a working theory on how Eevee got there. Let's say that Team Rocket is a criminal organization. A lot of their pokémon are probably under the table. Lots of room for them to mess up too," Lane said.

Eevee stopped spinning around for a second when her name was called, before going back to running.

Red's fists clenched. A cool wind came from the direction of the game corner. "There's no reason why a rare pokémon would end up in a garbage can."

"Mistakes happen. Maybe a member felt guilty for it. Maybe a transport failed. Whatevs. Point is that It's a little too coincidental. Criminal organizations so powerful in a city that they can walk around and rare pokémon are left behind in garbage cans? Geeze! You couldn't think of a worse display of wealth if you tried!" Lane tilted his head, holding a hand to his cheek. "Oh me, oh my. Imagine all the pokémon who are getting stolen from their trainers at every moment. Why, that could've been us! Our pokémon just left in some trash can as a last second deus ex machina for their freedom. I couldn't bear imagining my dear Lulu in that situation!"

From the shadows, Red could see them. Members tracking their movements through town. Were they even more interested now that they wanted to reclaim their lost property? Or were they keeping track on the trainer who had beaten them back before? The pokémon circling around him didn't speak, letting off its excess energy by adding a few flips to its routine.
Lane continued talking. Red thought that the boy was talking to talk, not knowing Lane was keeping an eye on his companion's reactions.

"Too bad we don't know where they are. I mean, it'd make sense that Team Rocket was holing up in the game corner. That's exactly the place where a criminal group would be focused around. But it's just hearsay from a local. There's no guarantee that he's right unless we saw it ourselves. But you should get to training for the gym! I'm sure that Team Rocket won't bother us or anybody else while we're around one of their strongholds."

He wanted to train. He wanted to pretend to be a normal trainer. He never heard of his parents getting ambushed by organized criminals when they simply wanted to bond with their pokémon. Lane somehow immediately knew where they were going from the first corner that Red turned.

"Here we are! Fighting for justice! Reclaiming what is right!"

"Shut up."

"And talking even when we're being suppressed!"

"Shut up."

They stood on a corner away from the game corner. The Team Rocket grunts were still handing out pamphlets to unaware passerby as people still walked through the sliding doors to wile away their money and time. Red palmed the coin case that he got from a disgruntled man claiming he'd give up gambling forever. It was enough reason for them to let him in really. If there wasn't really a secret base, then they could look somewhere else. If there was, then Red hadn't thought ahead that far ahead.

All the waiting paid off when the group moved away from the building to get drinks—juice boxes. There was nobody around who could stop him at that point. He quickly scurried across the street, constantly checking around to make sure that a Team Rocket grunt wasn't waiting in the bushes, Lane hot on his heels. They budged down the street through the traffic of people coming out of work, one suit after another, until they entered through the automatic doors.

Front doors acted as portals to other dimensions. This dimension was gaudy, exciting sounds pumping the heart full of adrenaline, music that was tastefully low to allow the machine's to dominate, and so many sights that made a kid go bug-eyed. Country kids unfamiliar in a place that harnessed the power of the sun tended to make the senses go haywire.

A hand grabbed his wrist. Some lady dressed richly raised his arm above his head. The doors slid shut as the motion sensor thought they'd disappeared.

"And what are you doing walking into the game corner, young man?"

"Spending mommy's money!" Lane said.

Red threw a look back in betrayal as the lady gasped. "My word. The charlatan behavior that trainers are allowed to participate in knows no bounds! This is why you shouldn't be allowed to go on a journey without having more time for your parents to instill a true moral compass. Freedom and responsibility are not properly learned if there's no basis of decency to uphold them."

He was dragged down the street as she forcefully took them further away from their objective, Lane dutifully following behind them. Red sourly wondered why he didn't have to be grabbed.

"And corrupting your younger brother. For shame, for shame! The fabric of society is welded together by each and every person's own effort. It's the louts who spend their entire day inside that den of sin who try to upend society even more than the villainous cretins that run the store. We may house a great many of those vagrants and vagabonds who have no proper moral order, but I will not allow another bright light to be dragged down to their level."

Red started actually struggling when he saw their destination: a tea place. Pink frills and Jigglypuff logos were plastered everywhere that they could fit on the tiny building, with women dressed up just as ostentatiously as the one guiding them. It didn't help that the grip was stronger than even his dad's.

"Stop squirming! You're going to get a real dressing down. What starter did you choose? I bet it was a Charmander. It's always those that go for the fire-types that are the worst with these kinds of vices."

He was dragged into the realm of perfume, pink, and haughty tittering. Worse still was that Lane joined in with the titters.

"Are you really going to hold a grudge?" Lane asked, shrugging. "I thought that it'd be better for us to pretend to be stupid kids rather than stupid kids that wanted to break into there. That way we get chewed out for being stupid kids rather than malicious ones, y'know?"

Red's glaring had no effect on the unrepentant boy. An entire day of beating Team Rocket was wasted due to the lady's continued insistence on them learning proper manners. The two-face was able to play to her trusting nature, leading to Red having to stay even longer to hear about the proper manners one has to carry oneself laced with insults against those who didn't know the correct order of forks. It must be the ability to mock people that made a person smart, Red had to assume. Charlatan, lout, senseless, ruffian, chauvinist, obdurate, blind, tacky, tactless, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera. It all became a negative mush that left him feeling as if he liked laws less rather than more.

They had made it back to their position. Across the street was the same undefended game corner. Now that they came much earlier, there were no grunts handing out fliers or people coming out of work to interrupt them. Only a man that was leaning against the building in despair was their company. An empty, unzipped coin pouch sagged on his loose fingers.
They ran across the street once again. Nobody stopped him from colliding face-first with the unopened door.

"Look at that. It opens at nine."

Red tried to ignore the heat that came up to his face as they took up their positions again. It only took an hour when the first employees were coming into the building, letting in a crowd of people that were waiting for the place to open. The mark that the door left receded by the time they walked inside. Lane stuffed a few pokédollars into the destitute man's coin pouch. No reaction.

Inside was a much more tame atmosphere than what the lady suggested (though Red conceded he'd save, "an aura which bent the righteous and brought glory to the wicked," for Hell itself). Instead of a den of sin, vicious tongue-wagging and rapscallions acting on their darkest pleasures, it was just rows of machines that enraptured the people who sat in front of the spinning dials. The fact that none of them were acknowledging the men sitting right beside them was disturbing to Red but not really worthy of a multi-hour lecture. Then again, every time that the levers were spun was another bundle of pokédollars lost in the machine. The happy chimes contrasted the sheer waste of money that he was seeing. All of those potions, pokéballs, pokéfood, being funneled into a giant vat of money, because that's what rich people did in their free time, bathed in money.

Another pair of hands grabbed both of them. One of the attendants had stepped around the counter when they weren't looking, now with a strong grip on their collars. Fomantis nearly rolled off Lane's shoulder in surprise.

"My apologies, but minors aren't allowed to play these games. Give yourselves a decade and we'll loyally accept your patronage!"

"Why can he play?" Lane asked, pointing to a kid about his height at the slot machines.

The kid had mastered the technique since he was pulling two different levers at the same time—failing twice as fast. None of them were matching up. He took a hard break drinking suspiciously-colored apple juice from a crystal glass.

"He has written permission from his parents to patronize the game corner. Do either of you have permission from your parents to patronize the game corner? If not, then I'm going to have to ask you two to leave and patronize us another day."

"Excuse me, miss," Lane asked, raising his hand. "Why do you keep saying that we're going to patronize here?"

The pressure on the back of their shirts increased as she started yanking. "Studies show that if a course of action is strongly suggested, then children are much more likely to follow that action when they grow up, even if it is from a source of authority that they don't like. It's the basis of learning!"

Both their feet weren't helping the woman at all. She dragged two lifeless dolls outside the game corner, all the while none of the gamblers looked up from their screens. Fomantis' blades ran across the woman's hands as a warning.

"...that's shady," Red said.

The doors whirred open, an entire planet's atmosphere blowing in for a brief moment, before they were thrown out onto their backs. The door closed with the woman's imperious glare disappearing with each inch that the doors crept. Then silence. None of the whirring of slots or cheers from the men at the tables. Those were replaced by the distant sound of Pidgey calling and footsteps from the street. To further the absorptive ability of the machines, even the building was insulated to prevent noises from the outdoors from getting inside.

Red kicked the wall.

"They totally have something going on in there, though it might be just the normal greed stuff," Lane remarked. The pokémon on his shoulder let its limbs splay in content as they were in the sunlight again.

Red nearly beat his fist against the wall before stopping himself. "We're getting in there. There's no doubt that it's run by Team Rocket!"

"Cool, yeah, sure. Why don't we leave before the grunts come and hand out pamphlets again?"

They slinked off into a side street. The same shop that they were tortured inside was next to them, with the prim lady sipping tea outside with other ladies. She gave a delicate wave that Lane returned.

"Does she have anything else to do than drink tea all day?" Lane asked.

"We're getting into that place. Tonight."

"Oh my. The hero has gotten serious!"

Despite the teasing, Lane's leg was bouncing through the last minute training session that Red had his pokémon go through. All of it was extremely light in anticipation for some kind of fight happening. Pikachu warmed up by making doubly sure that he could hit the flying discus (electricity-proofed, or so the salesman said, ran through Red's mind every time he picked up one that warped past usability) accurately. Eevee hadn't been given enough time to do much else than make its tackle as powerful as possible. Charmeleon just did light stretches, comfortable being the strongest one there.

It wasn't as if Red could even focus on making the training session rigorous when he was stressed anyways. Each minute that crawled by was added pressure against his shoulders. They took a four hour nap when coming back to the Pokémon Center, where Red spent most of the time imagining all of the things that could go wrong while repeating, "this is crazy, this is crazy, this is crazy," over and over again in his head. Through some miracle, he hadn't psyched himself out when the alarm rang.

Something close to relief came when stepping outside the Pokémon Center, feeling the cool breeze as night fell. Lane was right behind him without Fomantis out. Red assumed that was the weakest that he had, and was somewhat reassured that even his annoying shadow was taking it seriously. With one last look back into the comforting warmth of the center, he walked ahead.

Nobody was out on the streets. Nobody was in the game corner. It closed at midnight which gave them the time to sleep before the 'operation', as Lane kept calling it. Dumpster to dumpster, phone booth to light pole, every piece of cover was used since Red's instincts said that there was no way that the game corner would be left unguarded if it were truly a Team Rocket base. Their reflections off dimmed windows trailed along as their only companions.

Even without the streetlights in front of it, the chosen color still had it stand out like a beacon among pastel buildings, though the light that glared from the other side of the sliding doors was the exclamation point that made Red's instincts flare. Two shapes stood outside the building before slinking off into the darkness. Flashlight beams flung around the sky like spotlights as the guards left. They gave it a few minutes before running towards the back of the place. A single steel door that read 'Employee's Only' in an angry font was indented into the building, standing out by its simple color in comparison to the place's love for eye-searing colors.

Red tried the door first. It gave. The last length whined in protest.

"Guess they don't rely on the traditional kind of security around here," Lane said, shrugging. "Oh boy. This is going to be awesome! Breaking the law for justice! Like true justice people!"

Past there was a pitch black room. Little could be seen, through an overwhelming scent of plastic that clung to the gray walls. Dark corners that were unseeable, a metallic floor that sapped the warmth through their soles. Cardboard boxes stacked to the ceiling in some places. Red peeked into one of the boxes that were left open. The tokens that the place used were piled up to nearly the brim of it. Another held pokéballs that most likely had the pokémon that they sold as prizes. Yet another had the discs that were used for TMs.

That was the most tempting thing in the entire room. TMs were expensive, and most places didn't even bother stocking them with how specialized the vast majority were. Getting his hands on a free one would bolster his team's capabilities if they were of a move that his pokémon could learn. On closer inspection, the discs weren't labeled. There was a good chance that the move printed on it was useless for his current team.

"You should take one, hero. Stealing from bad guys isn't really stealing at all."

Red shook his head. "We're not sure if they're Team Rocket yet."

"What do you mean? What normal game corner would have," Lane kicked a box that held pokéballs over, letting them spill across the room, "this here?"

That hadn't been luck. Most of the hole had been visible already, with a soft yellow glow that leaked into a fading gradient. Two heads stuck down. A ladder led a good way down, touching down on a tile floor far below. Red glanced up at Lane.

"Go down! I'll fend off whoever comes to investigate," Lane said.

Red really didn't want that to happen. Running into the base by himself was exactly the one fear that made him keep Lane around. It was a good point however. Those people in front could've easily been on patrol to make sure that nobody was poking their nose around. Anything could happen. A grunt could come back to enter the base and ambush the boys when they're already preoccupied with a fight, and any other number of nightmare scenarios that he'd dreamed up within the past few hours.

Which meant trusting Lane. Red felt sick.

"Fine."

After all, expecting a betrayal was better than being surprised by an ambush. That was his reasoning and he was sticking with it.

Lane stuck his head over the hole and waved until Red was all the way down; Red never looked up.

Leaning on one of the boxes, he started whistling a tune. All his pokémon were nestled safely in their balls since Lane sincerely believed that nobody was coming; he just made up an excuse because he was lazy. Fomantis don't grow well if they don't get their proper rest and he wanted the young pokémon's coat to have the same luster as his Lulu's. Closing the door erased absolutely any trace that they had broken into the place. He leaned back, trying to relax, until he felt the box give. The cardboard was of poor make and couldn't support his weight, making him lean more against the pile of pokéballs that were inside of it. Always having to shift your weight around as the balls readjusted to your previous adjustment made it into a never-ending quest of finding the perfect balance.

Unfortunately, he wasn't meant to have a lazy night. The rattling door knob was hesitant, as if they were unsure if it was locked, a gentle, "hello?" slipping through. It pulled free like a parent checking if their child was awake, their nose creeping past the door. A familiar shade of green walked inside, a contrite frown on her otherwise cute face. Her hand searched the wall. A flashbang went off. Every detail of the boxes was revealed, how long the room stretched, the panel on the wall that looked very similar to a silent alarm system. A bold red light blinked on a camera that had a view over the entire room. If Lane was honest, he totally didn't even think about mechanical security measures.

Lane pushed off against the box.

"Welcome to my abode," he said with a small bow.

Erika frowned, walking further in. No pokéballs were visible on her kimono but that didn't mean there weren't any. Lane had spent an immoral amount of time finding little party tricks that could be done with pokéballs.

"I got a call about somebody breaking into the game corner. The police are stretched thin and I offered my help, but I can't say I'm happy following through with my promise, especially since it's only you. I was expecting something serious like those Team Rocket fellows breaking in. It's almost a relief that it's only a hooligan."

"Two hooligans, thank you. And it's not breaking and entering! That would be a crime. This isn't a crime. This is justice."

She rolled her eyes. "Of course. Please come and tell me how this is justice once we're outside. Where's your friend?"

Lane's foot tapped on the hole behind him. "Perhaps he's hiding in one of these boxes ready to ambush you. Or he's already escaped from the front. Or he's underneath this suspicious hole that I'm standing in front of. Want to take a guess?"

Erika considered her options. The hole was suspicious, no doubt about that. The game corner always had a group of Team Rocket grunts in front of it, so it wasn't a stretch that they were involved in its operations somehow, and she always found it strange how the building had an addition made to it that seemed disconnected from the front lobby. Without hard evidence though, she had to make a blind decision: treat every unknown as a trainer and subdue anyone who resisted on the premises. She'd never had to deal with those circumstances before, but there was a first time for everything.

Her hand reached for the pokéball hidden underneath her sash. One of the first things that you learned while being an elegant gym leader was how to hide your means of defense. Visible pokéballs didn't do any favors for a fashion statement. Funny enough, the boxes were spread out far enough to be League regulation standards for the smallest an arena could be.

"I'm sorry, but I'm going to need you to be escorted off the premises until we have a handle on the situation."

Lane sighed, throwing his head backwards in an exaggerated motion. "Ugh. You picked the boring option. We're supposed to team up and then blow a hole in their base. Now I can't join my hero in vaporizing the place. And I can't really have you go further since you'll interrupt his little hero-fying moment down there."

She didn't even blink. "If I'm understanding you correctly, then you're just giving a convoluted explanation as to why you're fighting?"

"Sure, why not?" Lane said.

He finally withdrew his own pokéball. Despite the circumstances, Erika felt the familiar rush that came with battling. It was an indescribable feeling. It was one of the few things she could never relate to her family. Anybody who'd never been in a tense battle would never understand how her fingers felt electrified pressing against the ball's surface. Reality melted away until only details and figures remained. It was as if her body stopped existing at that moment past the little tingles that ran through her skin, opening past what she was and bringing in the entire world. She brought along her elite pokémon just in case. She couldn't see how many pokéballs were on her opponent. The arena was cluttered, but she'd make do. And her opponent? She broke him down into pieces. Those eyes weren't the same as one who truly loved battling. At a glance, an easy win.

"I hate having to wake up at this time. I'm going to take out my annoyance on you. Take heart! Not many get to see my serious team," she said.

"The honor of annoying your ladyness is much more valuable than seeing your pokemon, my grace," Lane said.

Both of them threw their pokéballs at the same time. A flash! The figure nearly couldn't fit in the room as its vines pressed against the ceiling. It raised its arms to let out a bestial growl. Its eyes, the only visible part of its face, trailed the pokéball that landed on the floor and rolled off to the side.

Nothing happened. Erika tilted her head.

"Oops. Wrong one." Lane pulled out another and threw it. The arc was just too high that it bounced against the ceiling and fell onto the floor, also rolling empty. Then another was thrown too far, hitting Tangrowth's face. It didn't even flinch.

"I'm sorry to say that pokéballs don't work against pokémon that are already caught," Erika said.

"You'd be surprised. I don't know how you guys know which ball is for each pokémon, but—ah. This is the one."

A pokéball was thrown into the air, finally letting loose Lulu. Erika felt her heart skip a beat at the obvious care that went into the pokémon. Its pink stripes nearly glowed underneath the fluorescent light, not to mention the actual sheen that glimmered along its scythes. The pokémon didn't bother waiting for a command, already running towards the mass of vines that was multiple times larger than it. Her body was kept as parallel to the ground as possible with her blades extended out each side.

Massive arms swept for the smaller pokémon, forcing her to dodge when she could. A sweep made it leap, a blow intended for the head had her slide underneath. Lurantis didn't look fazed while she circled around the giant even with all the dodging it had to do. Its bulk didn't make it slower however. The giant had an easy time tracking Lurantis, throwing out its arms even at its blind spots, consistently being accurately aimed. Each time the smaller pokémon tried flanking, it had to be aborted when the Tangrowth twirled around with the ease of an acrobat.

Two arms swung at the same time as if it was trying to hug her. With a leap straight over both limbs, Lurantis' scythes finally glowed as power surged through them. A barrage of strikes made each individual vine that she hit wiggle. The assault was cut short as the vines showed they weren't just for show, unraveling and rebinding around her arm. Lulu barely had a chance to struggle when his arm smashed into her side. A pink blur flew across the room and landed on a stack of boxes. An explosion of pokéballs sent them across the room, littering the entire floor with red and white caltrops. Lane and Erika didn't bother shielding themselves from the few that bounced off their heads, and both regretted looking cool when dust flew into their eyes.

"Lulu! Grassy Terrain!"

A floral smell filled the room as translucent images of grass sprouted from the ground.

"Swords Dance, Tangrowth."

Lulu took that moment to run out from underneath the boxes, throwing out leaves around the floor to clear the space around its target. Pokéballs flew with the force of a major league pitcher, which finally forced the humans to duck. Lulu slid underneath the first arm that tried lopping her head off and leapt back to her feet. Another barrage of blows hit against the side of the Tangrowth. The assault didn't adapt as she was once again trapped and sent flying. Erika flinched as an explosion of broken TMs rained down, a few getting close to cutting her.

To Erika's surprise, the pokémon once again jumped out of the pile of cardboard looking as if it wasn't hit at all. It dashed underneath the attack that would've sliced the tinier pokémon in half as it did the same move once again. This time it pulled away in time which gave it the leeway to duck underneath the arms, already going for another attack.

"Finish it off, Lulu! X-Scissor!"

She jumped back from the hasty vines that shot out from Tangrowth. Crossing her hands together, she leapt straight into the arms that were moving to intercept her. Those long green arms, tensed in preparation, bounced off once touching her blades, dark green wounds wherever they'd been touched. Uncrossing them effortlessly sliced through an entire layer of vines, scattering around like confetti. A loud groan of pain came from the Tangrowth as he staggered back

Erika's eyes bulged as her most bulky pokémon had actually been scratched by an attack. Realizing that she had underestimated the trainer because of his goofy behavior, she pulled a second pokéball and threw it on the field. There wasn't time for honor when she was dealing with a crisis.

The squat tree didn't let out a cry as it was set free. All three of its heads were hanging off its branches with grim, focused expressions. A pink aura manifested around Lurantis as she suddenly stopped mid leap. The pokémon let out a surprised cry, vainly struggling against the force that was holding it still.

"Knock off! Get that psychic energy off you!"

Lurantis' blades faintly glowed black, slicing through the aura around her. The space that was behind her blade looked like a jacket unzipping, opening more and more until the aura deposited her like a yolk. She spun around to get rid of all its traces, ducking lower to barely avoid being bisected. Dark trails followed behind her blades as she leapt forwards, just barely able to land a glancing blow while putting herself between the mass of vines and Exeggutor. She landed running, keeping low to the ground as vines smashed the tiles into pieces behind her.

Lane chewed the inside of his cheek as she once again was held by the psychic aura. Even as the black light started emitting from her blades, she was helpless against the giant vine that smashed into her stomach and sent her flying into another set of boxes. The satisfying sound of casino chips filled the area as a geyser of red, black, and white flew into the air.

With an equally dramatic flair for what was the most stupid order he could think of, he yelled, "alright, Lulu. Break open the pokéballs!"

Erika's eyes bulged. There were enough pokéballs to capture everything on a small plot of land. With their sight being blocked, neither of the pokémon could do anything when flashes of light happened behind the boxes that Lurantis landed in.

Four Scyther flew above the debris. Their grim expressions weren't very friendly looking.
Lane's eyes widened in surprise when one of them stared at him. Another pokéball was forced out of his hand. "Protect me, Dunsparce!"

While her other teammate joined the battle, Lurantis ducked underneath a tower of boxes leaning against another tower to get outside the view of the Scyther. Their wings angrily buzzed from being released, looking for the first thing that they could take their anger out on. One tried to attack Lane and was immediately rewarded with a boulder to the face. The others swirled around Tangrowth in a dizzying pattern that he couldn't properly follow. The only relief was that they only focused on Tangrowth, who gracefully took the tiny nicks without complaint. Yet from behind the wall of brown, there were more flashes that overwhelmed the fluorescent light, a brewing storm that became louder with each passing second.

An army of green erupted from behind the boxes, more and more until their beating wings sounded like a hurricane. Exeggutor had to back up to protect its trainer with psychic blasts that swatted the pokémon back. Each attack was able to knock out at least one, though that hardly mattered when pillars of darkness were flitting about the room as the lights were slowly getting blocked off. Lane started backing up to the ladder as Dunsparce desperately tossed boulders at the encroaching clouds. Many squashed bugs were still twitching from their Scyther-shaped craters left behind on the walls.

More flashes came out to the side. Erika whirled around to see a stampede of Nidorino and Nidorans. Unlike the bugs, those pokémon were terrified of the situation and huddled together in a classic position that meant they would attack anything that got near. Those who were loners started prancing around aimlessly, bumping heads against the boxes and walls. The battle was no longer traditional by any means. For every second that she spent holding back, more wild pokémon joined in the menagerie.

Two more pokéballs slid into her hands. Venusaur and Vileplume joined their companions. Neither questioned how the situation got so chaotic. Both of them had trained enough to take out any unnecessary emotions when battle started.

"Venusaur! Use Sludge Wave. Vileplume! Stop the opponent from breaking anymore pokéballs!"

Even as she said that, another group of pokéballs broke open to release angry Dragonairs. These pokémon were dragons—notoriously tempestuous—who had no qualms firing off beams of energy that melted through the foundations of the building. The slot machines on the other side let out dying dings as they were pierced straight through, spilling coins from their veins all over the floor. With each one that was released, the building was being turned into swiss cheese faster. The Nidoran were so scared that they started firing around purple spines randomly. Erika laid down on her belly as projectiles whizzed above, trying to ignore the ominous creaking.

Lulu squealed as a ball of poison was launched with terrifying precision right where she was running, melting straight through the boxes that were meant to give her cover. Leaping behind a cardboard box had a glob of poison nearly melt straight through it, enough that she felt flecks of sludge splatter against her back. The slight pain didn't take her attention away from the far end of the room, where a massive purple wave was knocking over whatever came in its path. The Nidoran caused a miniature stampede in a desperate attempt to run away. It didn't matter. They were all swept up, getting knocked out and mixing together with the debris of melted pulp and plastic. The Dragonair bravely braced themselves against it before being carried off all the same, though many plucky specimens continued firing beams even as they were floating along. Purple overtook wherever the phantom blades of grass were before vaporizing them. Lulu jumped on top of a box tower, then another as that one crumpled into pieces, then another, before leaping to an already sinking ship and falling backwards into the waves of purple. A beam recalled her at the very last second.

Erika looked over. Lane gave a salute and then slid down the ladder right as the purple wave ran over the hole.

She wasn't so lucky. She grimaced as the purple gunk ran around the sides of her body like laying on the beach as the tide rose. The sticky solution felt rough yet tender, each squishy bit that stuck to her kimono a reminder that poison attacks stained, and the pain another reminder that she needed to see a doctor after contacting so much poison. Quick thinking made her raise her head just above the wave. Many pokemon thought of her as a rock in a flood. A Dragonair wrapped its tail around her neck. Another Nidoran washed up against her leg. She didn't get up even then, to avoid the last few projectiles that were flying above them.

A final groan from a dragon breath was the only warning before the building collapsed inwards.

When she finally arose, it was to a pink barrier that was protecting her from the debris. Her Exeggutor was too busy protecting against the Scyther that he couldn't protect her from the sludge, only focusing on her since the debris was much more life-threatening. Only the backside of her kimono was saved from the staining, so severe that some parts had turned a monotone purple. Apparently some nicks had happened during the fight which meant she'd also have to worry about getting sick from infection. All her pokémon were still standing, which was the only positive that she could see in the center of a collapsed building, a horde of Scyther that managed to escape once the walls collapsed, culprits who'd slipped through her grass, and one of her clothes being irreparably ruined. Venusaur nudged its head against her guiltily. Though all the effects of the attack weren't considered, the wave was as effective as she suspected at corralling the weak pokémon. A macabre scene was painted with what could've been hundreds of them splayed around.

Conveniently, the hole where Lane escaped was covered up by debris.

A cop ran up when she finally nudged her way out of the game corner's remains. He was flabbergasted, taking a moment to reorient himself upon seeing her condition, before he started speaking. "Erika! What do we do now?"

She sighed in annoyance. Venusaur shrank to the ground. He just secured himself extra strenuous training.

Red was walking out of the cold base. All of his pokémon were a hair's inch from being knocked out, but they still trudged alongside him. Rows of grunts were along the walls. All of them wanted to stop him. None had the pokémon to do so. A sense of immense pride welled up inside of him, making each of his strides much more confident. Whatever there was to fear, he rallied through an entire army of Team Rocket before finishing it off with a tough battle. It made the badges seem smaller. More importantly, it made Team Rocket feel smaller.

The confidence slightly faltered when he caught up with Lane. The number one fan waved before running over. Everything was in proper order except for the purple gunk that looked like it was poured over his head like a barrel of a sports drink during a game. That the purple stuff also left behind weird chunks didn't seem to bother Lane.

"Look at you! I'm going to guess that this place is all dealt with?"

"I don't know how I beat their boss, but I just did," Red said. He was openly looking at the mess.

Lane laughed. "I have no idea how I lasted so long up there, but I did. We're the greatest crime fighting duo in the world! Winning by luck!"

"It was not luck. I won with strategy," Red said tartly. He saw that the ladder they used to enter was laying in pieces, along with a purple puddle spreading across the hallway. Droplets were still falling down. "What did you do?"

"Why are you asking that like I did something wrong? There's another exit this way, come on. It's the main one, which they were probably afraid you'd find if you came in through the front."

"Okay." Red's eyebrow rose. "How do you know this?"

Lane put a finger against his nose. "The nose knows."

They came out in a pile of debris. A thin layer of dust laid across the staircase as they walked up, the piles of the rooftop blocking half the way up and forcing them to sidle upwards. The gym leader of the city was waiting at the top with the entire police force surrounding the ruins. She did not look amused. The same purple dye that was on Lane had somehow gotten her even worse. It actually took him a closer look to recognize her; he'd seen her in magazines with a much different hairdo. It had gotten thrown into a confusing mess like she'd just gotten out of bed.

It also made him feel a little better. It meant that Red wasn't specifically cursed to have Lane act that way. There just was a screw loose inside the boy's head. Realization only came when he got a better view of how many police were surrounding the pile of rubble, formerly known as the game corner.

Lane just felt a thrill from the irritated frown.

"You're both under arrest."

Chapter Text

It became known as the Destruction of the Game Corner, in all capitals. Within a single night the business was revealed as a front for Team Rocket and all of its assets seized, most of the employees avoiding arrest as they had no knowledge nor interaction of the organization's clandestine activities. The owner disappeared overseas and is rumored to be spending his hard-earned dirty money over at Alola; it turns out that he was fleecing the deal with Team Rocket and stole most the money that he was supposed to hand over. Without an owner, money, or a physical location, the business disappeared into the history of failed ventures. Citizens of Celadon City were secretly glad for the disappearance though also had tart words for the officials that took so long to clean up the leftovers of that dark chapter in the city's history. These same people also had choice words for those same officials that let another company—a Johto based one!—to set up another game corner in the same place.

There were also whispers of the boys who had carried out the deed. Some called them vigilantes. Others, heroes. One lady at a certain tea shop loved to brag that it was from her instilling proper morals into them that the act was carried out in the first place, though she would've preferred that they went through the proper legal channels instead of blasting their way through the base. Everybody had their own opinion until the next news story came out about a fisherman picking out a ninja star on a casual Friday afternoon.

All those pokémon that were left like a kid's toy box after a day of play were sorted out with the efficiency of a DMV. Those which were already native to many Kanto environments were spread out, the Nidoran. This turned out to have years of lasting consequences as the released pokémon remembered their traumas in captivity, bonding through their experiences. A scientist by the name of 'Flora Maygrave' noted the phenomenon of a pokémon gang bullying an entire ecosystem and extorting money from trainers through devoting five years of study for it.

The more dangerous pokémon were harder to deal with. Many were given to ace trainers for a bargain price. Others were carefully distributed through biomes that they were amenable towards. Unlike the relatively nonthreatening Nidoran, a sudden surge of Scyther would most likely tear up the environment as they battled for territory. No matter how carefully they went about it though, they still released many aggressive pokémon back into the wild. Years passed and there still was an uptick of aggressive wild pokémon attacks throughout the region.

It was a whole situation that took multiple days to sort through, then multiple weeks, but the pertinent part really was the initial first days. For five days they were giving testimonies, mostly waiting in separate cells. Eventually they both were let out of the cramped not-quite cells. Red was driven stir crazy in there from the lack of stimulation and being across from Lane's horrible whistling. Neither of them knew any of the behind the scenes action, of course. Lane even read the paper later about the Nidoran gangs and still didn't make the connection. All they knew was that the same girl who carried out the arrest was bowing to them in front of the police station. Cameras were out and tears were dabbed away as the citizens were given witness to their most popular community figure so humbly prostrating herself.

"I apologize for the entire situation. Arresting you was not the way that we should've thanked the trainers who were strong enough to deal with Team Rocket, not to mention finding a base that was operating right underneath my nose. You have my deepest thanks and sincerest apologies," she said, her bow deepening.

Lane was rubbing the back of his head, though Red knew that the gesture was entirely manufactured when the boy winked at him.

"It's no trouble. I was ready to be punished when I broke in," Red said.

"We reward those that do good, even if they have to skirt the laws sometimes to do it. You should know that this is the Kanto way." Her head raised. "Are your pokémon alright? I had my gym trainers make sure that their needs were met while the police sorted through your situations."

"Better than ever," Red said. No embarrassment leaked through his voice. It didn't matter that it seemed how every other trainer knew how to properly care for his pokémon better than he did. Charmeleon's flame was brighter than ever when he came back and Eevee somehow had even more energy.

Erika turned to Lane. "Your pokémon, the evolved grass-type, is very well cared for. I'm embarrassed to admit that I wasn't sure how to properly care for any of your pokémon. What were they called again? Fomantis and Lurantis, I believe. I hope that I didn't mess up."

Fomantis already had its place on Lane's shoulder, happily sleeping. His finger ran across its forehead. "Wasn't expecting anybody from 'round these parts to. Nor did I expect anybody to know how to fight against one."

"Your Lurantis had Contrary. It kept using Superpower against my Tangrowth, which bolstered its strength. It used Grassy Terrain to keep it alive for longer and most likely took the time to use Synthesis whenever my Tangrowth scored a hit against it. Once you were convinced that it had grown strong enough, you tried to fell Tangrowth in a single blow. Congrats. You've done the most damage against him in a single hit than any random trainer has been able to," Erika said.

While she didn't fully know what an ability was, having multiple unknown pokémon under her care clashed with her sense of duty. Realizing that she was woefully under equipped had sent her into a flurry, pressuring her to be better. Pacing back and forth in her office one day, she was still stressing over the issue, after having blabbed off the ear of anybody who would give her a moment, when her mom poked her head through the door.

"Why don't you visit the library?"

The "library" was built three generations ago, founded from the personal collection of her great-grandfather. Two libraries were inside the same buildings, that which was available to the public and that which was still kept beyond a black iron gate, into a well-lit single room that had a stepladder for the highest shelf. One shelf was entirely dedicated to her grandfather's travels—he'd been scolded for being so world hungry that he skirted on his duties for most of his life—alongside the books detailing regions that he'd seen only through hearsay. Flipping through the largest compendium had gotten her stuck on a single page. From that page came a handful of references which sent her down a rabbit hole for the next few days. Even spending every day in that cramped room, sitting on the bottom step, hadn't given her enough time to unfold the full consequences. Liner notes referenced liner notes in another book. Pokémon which he speculated weren't even real were x'd out in thick red marker. Erika guessed either they didn't teach the proper way to study back then or that he was a terrible student. Most of the time she was just trying to parse what the notes were trying to convey.

Lane didn't even miss a beat. He just did a fake polite laugh. It wasn't real. He wasn't trying to make it real. Erika knew that it wasn't meant to be real. That image one of the reporters had snapped of that moment was put at the front of the page the next day.

"That's a gym leader for you, Red. They're so attuned to battle that they can suss out a strategy given enough time."

"I did my research," Erika said wryly. "It was embarrassing for a non-League member to have given my Tangrowth that much trouble. He still could've won though."

"I still could've set up Sunny Day and then my Synthesis would've become more powerful."

"And then my Solar Beams would've been able to shred through your Lurantis."

"Well, you have to remember that Lulu also has Leaf Storm. She could've easily eaten those Solar Beams."

"Which wouldn't matter since Tangrowth could've made the floor crumble, thus slowing down Lurantis and making it easier to land a Toxic on her."

"Wouldn't matter since Lulu is especially gifted at using Aromatherapy."

"That moment would give my Tangrowth the chance to Swords Dance and make him into a greater threat."

"Wouldn't I still have the advantage? Lulu has Toxic and Weather Ball too. At this point I could've already taken out your Tangrowth multiple times over."

"Not at all."

"I think so."

Red tilted his hat down at the shameful display. "Are you two going to be doing this all day?"

Erika held her hands up good naturedly. "I would challenge you to a battle, a genuine battle, if you weren't lacking a full team. Would you be willing to be a trainer for my gym, if even temporarily? The care that you have for your grass-types is inspiring and I would love to have an expert of foreign pokémon. It's my greatest shame that I'm only familiar with local grass-type pokémon. I haven't the time to travel abroad."

The offer was two-faced. She did genuinely want to have a talented trainer under her wing and use his expertise to further her own understanding of grass-types. There was a genuine want for cooperation underneath that black void that wanted to sate the petty urges. Sure, eventually he'd become a real employee. That didn't mean she couldn't give him a week of the dirtiest jobs in silent retribution for ruining one of her kimonos.

"Maybe when my project here is done I'll take you up on that offer." A heavy smack for Lane was barely a nudge against Red. "This guy here has a gym badge to get."

Her hands folded in front of her, giving a slight bow. "It would be my honor. Usually trainers would have to endure a series of trials to have a chance of fighting against me. However, I'm curious as to how you were able to defeat so many people with only three pokémon. Fight me. I won't go easy even if you did my city a favor."

Red nodded resolutely. After a few more pleasantries and arrangements, Erika walked back to her gym and the reporters melded back into their own lives. The two boys stood there, nodding. Red nodded. Lane nodded. They had their hands on their hips. Fomantis was still asleep.

"She has some kind of…" Red trailed off.

"Aura, some kind of aura about her," Lane said.

They continued nodding.

"It makes her feel unapproachable," Red said.

They continued nodding to the open air until a police officer kicked them out.

Charmeleon ran past the veil of spores. An angry buzz of yellow flecks that coated the entire area hung around like smoke from a fire. They slowly drifted closer to the grassy field: thousands of flecks like the night sky. Nothing mattered past those white lines painted onto the grass. Not the cheers, not the orders Erika was yelling. Knots of grass intended to trip him were ruined as puffs of fire were blown ahead. They weren't falling for the same trick a second time. The mushroom headed pokémon shook wildly to fire off another barrage of spores around the field in a desperate attempt to keep them away. The cloud became thick to the point of being opaque.

Red's fists beat against his thigh. It was up to Charmeleon at this point. It was a cloud of unknowing, nothing around him except a great mass of yellow slowly drifting. Somewhere in there was Erika, Charmeleon, the Gloom that made the field this horrible to navigate. Any order he could've made was based on guesswork. His feet smacked together as he stood ramrod straight. No matter the futility, he wanted to try his best to try and help his partner. The best way to do that was to believe. So he believed, watching. Beams of light flashed inside the cloud like lightning bolts. A cry. Which pokémon it belonged to was lost in the haze of adrenaline and the noise coming from the crowd. Cheers for either side came from the temporary bleachers, though none of them could bellow louder than his greatest fan.

"You've got this Charmeleon! R! Ready! E! Every! D! Day! Ready everyday! Show her the fire, Red! Show her your inner flame!"

Another tower of flame came from the cloud. This one was hot enough to cut through the field of spores, tiny explosions popping in the air from the more volatile patches. Charmeleon's maw had fire leaking out of it, tiny flecks dropping onto the grass. Another blast cut another valley through the thick air. He kept repeating the process until the Gloom was revealed ducking back into another cloud. The final blast of flame hit dead on. Its meteor-like shape smashed a hole through the curtain of yellow and launched the pokémon onto its back, wiggling around to try and find its footing. Charmeleon didn't allow it any quarter. The pokémon took a face full of fire that knocked it out for good.

The entire stadium launched into cheers. Thanks to their vigilantism, it was the greatest turnout for a battle that Erika had in a year (that previous battle being against a popular musician who'd been going through the circuit. She was beaten down by Sabrina and went back to her band, delusions of being a trainer crushed into dust.). The same people who grumbled about every one of Erika's losses complained about the blatantly unfair matchup. Lane ran down the bleachers as the two trainers were bowing to each other.

"I can see how you were able to deal with Team Rocket so easily. It was a great pleasure to battle you," Erika said.

"Uh, thanks," Red said. He'd never been eloquent, darn it! Talking with polite people almost felt like they were mocking him.

They raised their heads. From Erika's sleeves came a badge. Unlike his first one, this gleamed in the light. Petals in the colors of the rainbow were embossed on the cool metal. Red took it, played with it a bit before putting it away.

Lane ran onto the field, burdening his arm around Red. Red tried his best to shrug it off.

"Good fight, you two! Really showed how to ruin a perfectly good landscape."

Patches of fire ate through the few blades of grass that survived the initial onslaught. Because it was made specifically for this purpose, all the damage was either charred black spots or pillars of smoke that were getting sucked up by the exhaust fans above them. Multiple craters had been made by the globs of acid that were spat at mach speed, with the grass hit turning into withered black ribbons. Very few parts were unscathed and those, like most the room that left the spectators sneezing, now had a tinge of yellow from the spores that had settled down.

"It's like this with every fire-type. My trainers will use their pokémon to regrow the grass," Erika said easily. "Please think about my offer, Lane. I would love to pick your brain. I'm sure that you could learn something from me too."

"Really pushing that, huh? I'll come back with an answer once Red becomes champion. Maybe I'd consider it if you gave me a badge. I pretty much beat you back there."

"Winning without having knocked out a single one of my pokémon? What an audacious claim."

Erika reconsidered Red while they bantered. Though the boy's team only had three pokémon, they had managed to push through without a single one having fainted. Blanketing the entire field with spores helps her pick out the trainers that have their pokémon rely on their own orders too much. Seeing the Charmeleon able to generate that much fire before even evolving also spoke of the talent of the pokémon he'd chosen, and implied that the boy's pokémon might already be nearing its point of evolution within a handful of months. None of the pokémon could stand against her main team in any meaningful capacity, which meant that they weren't Champion material yet.

Yet. From the progress already visible, she doubted they'd stay like that for long. Neither of his other pokémon had even evolved and still had firepower comparable to the Charmeleon. It only took a week of being outside the prison for last-second training before he came in and swept through her; and though being too arrogant wasn't proper for a lady of her station, she considered herself stronger than any base of Team Rocket goons, some leader there loafing around or not, making that progress especially amazing. She reconsidered Red for a long time.

A taciturn, focused personality would be fantastic for the Champion.

She smiled. That idea wasn't bad at all.

"So, you don't train? How were you able to fight against Erika?"

If Red were more honest, then he'd throw in that the last second training was most likely the only thing that saved him from losing. He wasn't insane. First there was a break where they celebrated taking a major win against Team Rocket, then they warmed up after sitting around for a few days, then he crammed training like a teenager before their finals. He wouldn't have won without the training. It would've helped his point, if the Red before the game corner wouldn't have scratched her. Why didn't he admit it? That'd be saying more when he could be speaking less, first of all; second was admitting that the little tips Lane had thrown in while he was watching them train were actually helpful. Even if the boy hadn't stuck around during the entire time, it was those hours when he watched, heckled, that Red felt he was making the most progress.

They were retreading the same route that they first walked down. If the guard on the Celadon side of Saffron's guardhouse gave him lip then a water bottle was ready inside of his pack. Whatever reason that the guards were holding the traffic of an entire region, bribing was totally an acceptable method when he had places to be. Totally. No reason to hold up on getting his badges just because they were arbitrarily stopping him.

"My title isn't 'The Lazy Genius' for nothing."

"Title? Who gave you that title?"

"Me."

A heavy breath came out of his nose. "What'd you say to her anyways? I don't think I deserve all these."

The subject of his concern were the TMs that were now in his disc holder. One was the typical prize for beating a gym. Four others were found at the wreck of the game corner, somehow not reduced into scrap, and were given as prizes for defeating Team Rocket—Erika called it an investment.

Lane barely spared a glance at the disks. He was too preoccupied with staring at a curious Growlithe that had been trailing them just off the route. It would sit down, tongue lolled out, and wait for them to get an appropriate distance before running after them. Adorable. Yet it would run away a good distance whenever he tried petting it. Getting teased himself made Lane pout.

"Didn't say nothing. I'm more of a live let live kind of guy, you know?"

"So did you or did you not say anything?" Red asked.

"You've pretty much seen all the conversations I had with her, hero. The first one that we had was way more pre-battle banter, not really interesting nor witty. Well, at least hers wasn't. She probably thinks that you have a shot for champion too."

The case felt heavier than before. Red struggled to catch up to the same pace.

Even though it was a straight route, it felt like they'd made much better time than the first way around. The peaks of Saffron City were visible within a few hours of walking. Most of the trainers that were normally milling about were conspicuously absent. Lane commented that all the shakeups the region had been experiencing (coincidentally all happening around the same time that Red started traveling) were making people antsy.

Being in the shadow of the city brought its own feelings. The biggest, most populated city in Kanto without there being a contest, with the most effort put into it. Architects designed the tallest buildings in the world and infrastructure to support so many people. A construction crew could be seen in the distance working on a bridge that would one day lead straight into the heart of Johto. Just the sound alone made Red's head start to swim. Everything coalescing together wasn't hampered by the thin line of trees and buildings that were built just outside the city limits. Wild pokémon were distinctly lacking from the area. There was a dead band that wrapped around the city where few wildlife were bold enough to tread.

Another boy ran right into their path. His wild hair and practical clothing were the stereotypical things a newer trainer would wear, favoring practicality rather than trusting their pokémon to deal with the hardest work, usually why the strongest trainers could manage keeping up a "style". A blue t-shirt and jeans that looked as if they could withstand a slice from a knife had faint dirt stains. He furiously stomped his foot in the ground, bemusing Lane.

"Are you actually that angry or are you pretending?" Lane asked.

"Of course I'm that angry! First I run into a bunch of Rocket chumps that send me off the route and I end up getting lost for a week! Then when I finally come back, oh well! There's Red and one of his cronies coming from Celadon. Bet you've already got the badge too."

"Yeah," Red said.

Blue shook with pent up emotions. Bellowing up to the sky, all the anger was let out in a single moment.

Lane waved in front of his nose. "Whew. I can smell that you've been out for a week."

A finger suddenly found itself in between Red's eyes. "Battle me! I've actually put in the effort in making a team from the 50 pokémon that I've caught! You've still got only two pokémon? I'll wipe that little lizard off the face of the planet!"

"No," Red said.

"Bark!" their stalker Growlithe yelled.

The finger nearly poked out one of Red's eyes, only avoided when he swerved his head back. "What'dya mean, 'no'!? No!? I haven't walked all this way just to be refused!"

"If I may, hero," Lane said, poking in at Red's peripheral vision, "I can take this battle. If he cannot even defeat one of your cronies then surely he doesn't have enough power to beat the exalted one himself!"

"'Exalted'? Pah! Red here is the biggest introvert that you've seen this side of the planet. If it weren't for me, he wouldn't know how to hold a conversation with a rock!" Blue exclaimed, poking a thumb into his chest.

"How do you hold a conversation with a rock? Maybe you're talking about a Geodude, though I think you'd have a hard time giving meaningful responses back to it! A rock has no business sympathizing with something alive and thinking, after all. Did you just show Red how to act like a schizophrenic?" Lane asked.

"Bark!" their stalker Growlithe agreed.

Blue's center of anger refocused, retracting his thumb and pointing his finger into the smaller boy's chest. "Who do you even think you are? What kind of person are you calling a hero? This guy here is pretty much the least impressive trainer from Pallet Town, which is pretty hard to do considering that there's only two trainers there!"

"Wouldn't it be easier to be less impressive if there's only two trainers? That's a 50/50. Statistically speaking, it'd also be pretty unimpressive if you're the better trainer."

Red sighed, walking ahead to save himself the headache of listening. The only positive was that Blue's tunnel vision focused on a target that couldn't be moved—an irretractable force versus an irreverent boulder. Losing the boy in the din of the city would be the best case scenario, though for some reason Red didn't have the confidence it would happen.

He locked eyes with the guard. The man just looked away. Whatever that interaction meant, Red didn't care. He was in.

Being inside the city was even more overwhelming than seeing it from the outside. Now the noise was stereo, like headphones tightly wrapped, giving him conflicting sounds no matter what direction that he looked. People still found places to mill around at street corners and restaurants, not minding the constant foot traffic that passed them by. An entire ecosystem supplanted the forest that was there long ago, Rattata and Spearow becoming the dominant species. Birds nested high up as they watched imperiously down at the rat race below. Billboards and flashing lights further demanded the attention of anyone walking in. A paint board of stimuli blended together to nearly make the whole place incomprehensible to the small town boy. Without a clear goal, he wandered further into the city.

That was the main issue at the moment. His hands reached into his pack and withdrew the object of his troubles. Holding up the scope to the city didn't do anything except make the lights even more glaring. After nearly tripping on an enthusiastic Growlithe and getting a baleful glare from the owner, he tried finding a rock he could attach to, which turned out to be nowhere. Not a single place in the city was free from the barrage of sights and sounds. A random bench facing a gray wall was the best place he could manage.

The scope weighed lighter than it appeared. It had the company's logo imprinted on the forehead of the object—the same one on the highest tower in the city. It was a complicated system of straps that would keep it on your head, while the scopes would apparently reveal invisible pokémon. A tower that he'd been easily kicked out from came to mind. Getting his hat stolen and pokémon knocked out by an invisible force had been as humbling as it had been annoying. The chain of philanthropy wasn't lost on him. From destroying a Team Rocket base to figuring out the problems with a random tower in another city instead of trying the psychic gym first.

To be fair, Red considered it the main duty of training anyways. What use was getting strong pokémon if you didn't use them for anything?

Red's doubt was vindicated when Lane leapt over the bench's back and plopped down. He scooted away to keep some distance between them.

Lane held a pinky to his lips. "Man! That was easy! He totally doesn't put enough time in training!"

"I'm going back to Lavender Town."

"Neato! And I'm coming with you!"

Red let out a heavy breath through his nose.

When he didn't pick up the conversation, Lane continued talking. "Y'know, eventually his Squirtle is going to one-up your Charmeleon. At the moment your team is, like, suuuper weak to it. You don't want to lose to him, don't you?"

"I don't care either way," Red lied.

"Sure, sure. But if you coincidentally cared, then have you thought of another team member that could easily deal with it? Think about it! Another electric or grass-type would smoke that thing. Another water-type would be a good way to round out your team while also being able to fight against whatever a dinky water-type could throw at you. And before you start thinking that Pikachu himself can deal with it, remember this, young padawan: never lay all your eggs in one car trunk. It's always better to have multiple ways to fight against a certain type of pokémon than leaving that burden to one," Lane said.

That line of thought could be easily continued. What were the most common types that could deal with Blue's Squirtle? Obviously there were grass-types abound no matter what part of the region you looked, but Red wouldn't ever consider picking up any of the pokémon that Erika had used; no matter how much she kept repeating it, those pokémon would never become 'cute'. Water was a different story. The fishing rod he'd been gifted barely caught anything that wouldn't fit inside a child's fishbowl. When no pokémon came to mind, Red felt a brief spike of guilt. Professor Oak had entrusted him with the pokédex to fill it out and he still hadn't even picked up a whole team.

A peculiar incident came to mind. An officer back at Vermillion had offered a Squirtle, which he refused at the time since he wanted to one-up Blue by challenging the Pokémon League with as few pokémon as he could manage. Swallowing his pride was tougher than he expected, especially since it was the same pokémon that Blue trained. Even if he got rid of the childish notion, he still found the idea of using one of Blue's pokémon repulsive. So instead of growing by coming to terms with his problems, he reworded them: what if the Squirtle one day became more powerful than Blue's own starter? What if it became an easy way to show which one of the trainers were better?

"You're kind of making a scary face!" Lane happily said.

He wasn't as happy when he realized they were backtracking across half the region. But he endured it. "All for hero, I'll see the exact same sights again and again!" he cheered, before falling back to a droll expression. It wasn't as if they spent too much time traveling, in Red's opinion. It only took three days of speed walking when he threw out the pokéball containing his new pokémon.

Outside of the same camping spot outside of Saffron that Red has visited multiple times now, their sleeping bags were laid out and pokémon milling around. A new team member playfully ran around with Eevee. The furry pokémon had taken a shine on their newest member and had taken the role of a stern caregiver. As they played together, Eevee maintained a stoic expression. Only when it leapt above the push ups of Charmeleon to deliver a fatal nibble on Squirtle's neck did a smile finally show itself. Pikachu had taken to chewing on blades of grass like they were candy bars, both paws firmly grasping down as it took tiny bites. Red had no idea if that was coming from a vitamin deficiency and decided to look into it when he was back in town.

"Okay, everyone. Let's bring it in," Red said.

Eevee, Charmeleon, and Pikachu were immediately on their feet. Squirtle took a second until it waddled over and saluted.

"Charmeleon. We're going to work on your accuracy. Squirtle, you're going to have to learn how to take a hit. We'll combine your training. Squirtle will do everything he can to avoid the fire that Charmeleon uses. Only Embers! We want to make this training last, Charmeleon. Eevee, let's work further on transitioning between your moves. I feel as if you can use Protect after Quick Attack much faster than you currently are doing. For you, Pikachu, we'll continue trying to get your voltage even higher. Let's start by rubbing your cheeks before we try to make higher voltage Thunderbolts."

Every member of his team gave their squawks of consent even if Squirtle looked as if he were told about his home being lost to the debtors. A flicker of fire landing on his tail finally got the pokémon moving.

Red glanced over to his other traveling companion. Fomantis was laying as near to the fire as possible with the petals around its bulbs splayed out. A mound was the only indication of where Dunsparce had burrowed itself, though every now and then the dirt would wiggle. Red was left bemused as to what it could be doing down there; he couldn't know that it was wriggling around in contentment much like how one would snuggle deeper in their bed. Lurantis was getting her daily grooming from her trainer, trilling in contentment as she was sprayed by a specially made water bottle that somehow never emptied. It was dropped for a pair of shears that started traveling across Lulu's body.

He finally bit the bullet. After days of traveling together, his curiosity finally got the better of him.

"I've never seen you training," Red said.

Lane didn't even glance behind him. The process of trimming any unwanted growth from Lurantis' back was a delicate process. They would normally groom each other in the wild, but obviously he didn't have an entire pack of Lurantis at his call when traveling. Hands worked down her back to find any mounds. Double-checking for good measure, he then started focusing on the bow-like protrusion she had. That was the most important part. Because it acted like a branch, it very easily grew new stumps that he'd have to nip early or else they'd take longer to heal over. Even the slightest distinction made him carefully press the blade as vertically as possible.

"That's because I'm not really a battling trainer. I'm a breeder. Dang, it really took you nearly a month before asking me. Am I that icky?"

Red ignored all the superfluous talking. "You say that, yet you were able to fight against a gym leader."

"Gawd, why do you all focus on that? I'd like to say that I was also about to lose against a gym leader if I didn't run away!" Red's unamused face made Lane continue talking. "I don't call myself the 'Lazy Genius' for nothing! We train every now and then, but all this power you see is the result of good genes!"

When Lane was too focused on getting a snip as lined up with the current arc of her bow, Lurantis turned around to make sure that Red saw her eye roll.

"So you have a pokémon that's on the elite level just because you occasionally train," Red said drolly.

"This is what 'elite level' is to you? Anyways, it's because I'm a special type of breeder who focuses on internationally endangered pokémon." This time he was able to catch Lurantis' eye roll. "Okay, I'm not technically a breeder who focuses on internationally endangered pokémon yet. My career is starting here though! And being a breeder with this specific category is pretty dangerous. You see all the Team Rocket goons that're around the region. Don't you think they'd love to rob a breeder like me?"

Red considered the whole statement. It didn't sound wrong on its face, but he was around Lane for too long to take anything the boy said too seriously. The sudden crack that came from right next to them left ears ringing. Pikachu shook his head, smoke still wafting from his ear tips, and started rubbing his cheeks again.

"Why are you following me if you're a breeder?" Red asked.

Lane made the biggest pout that he could pull off. "Do you not like me?"

"Answer the question."

"Rude!" Lane sniffed, then sneezed as he made the sniff too dramatic. With a congested voice, he continued, "I'm telling you that you're gonna be the champion. I'm calling it right now. And like I said, I'm a historian. Who wouldn't want to travel along with a champion?"

"You're a pretty busy guy. Breeder and historian?"

"I consider myself a Renaissance man."

All that being said, Red didn't believe a word that came out of Lane's mouth. If Lane wanted to be a breeder of rare pokémon so badly, then an Eevee wouldn't have been a bad start considering how popular they are in proportion to their numbers—yet he didn't. The 'breeder' didn't even hesitate when offering it to Red. That also came in conjunction with all the other half-answers that he received. How much did he actually train his pokémon? Were his parents breeders too? How could a boy younger than him get the autonomy to move around the region for a pipe dream, only to get distracted and start following around a random trainer?

All that conversation amounted to was Red doubting anything that the boy said even more. Only a single idea stuck past the lies: him as Champion, the capital 'C' if he wanted to be pretentious, and it was actually debated amongst the greatest linguists of the time whether being champion/Champion actually deserved it. Doubts made it hard to keep his head up. Two different people had confidently said that he had a chance. Even if he discounted everything that Lane said, Erika's actions made him feel more confident than he wanted to. His bones felt like actual trainers didn't throw the word around carelessly, much less gym leaders.

Champion Red. The title sounded good. Until Charmeleon missed the first blast of fire and Red realized the consequences of training in an area full of greenery. Squirtle was too panicked to use a water move and Charmeleon was unknowingly making the problem worse as he patted it down, letting his tail drift low enough to light more grass. Ordering them to get back in order made Lane giggle, netting an exasperated look from Lulu.

They went to sleep after a night of training, and woke up around sunrise. All the pokémon slept outside of their balls. Eevee provided the base pillow, a battered Squirtle laying on top of her, Pikachu constantly trying to find a comfortable spot to lay his head, with Charmeleon snoring up a storm at the very top. Their alarm clock was the flaming tip of his tail singing Eevee's nose.

As they were packing up camp, Lane let out a squeak.

"Actually, hero, I've got things to do. We should meet up later. You do your heroic thing and I'll do my perfectly mundane one," Lane said.

Red sighed in irritation. "Are you going to arrange another ambush?"

"No? Why would I do that? You'd just beat them off anyways," Lane said, waving him off. "I've got some things to arrange. Don't worry. You'll love it when you see it."

"I don't think I will," Red said, tying a cord that would keep his sleeping bag in a compact roll.

The important thing in Lane's mind was that Red didn't outright reject the fact they would meet again. Because that's what it was. A fact, an immutable fact that Lane would find him. He already missed the slight downturns of Red's mouth when he said something particularly objectionable. He'd live without it. There was one him, unique, skilled at his job, and a hundred thousand people who were in that beautiful area where they were too nice to beat him up while still getting annoyed by his antics. They walked in different directions, Lane planning for the future, Red relishing the silence already.

Chapter Text

The country boy got his rest. From the constant chattering in his ear from the font of endless inane topics that seemed to not have an end, with the suspicion that tired topics would get revived once Lane forgot the ones that he brought up earlier. It was a rest from the busy cities and leaving into terrain he was more familiar with—not literally, of course. Most of the region was virgin lands to Red. What he meant was the general feeling, the lazy crawl where pokémon didn't try clawing your eyes out and the fauna would start melding together with the infrastructure; it was the people who were wandering the path as if lost, having places to be yet knowing that optimizing their time to the hour was an even worse waste of time; where people eating at the side of the road would lay out another sandwich for him, giving his pokémon berries as a snack while they chatted. It was where Red was most comfortable and could be found anywhere in Kanto. Besides the obvious exceptions, most routes were comfortable places where the pokémon brave enough to approach humans were friendly and there were constant characters who'd gladly battle, chat, or even travel alongside you for company. It was how it was back in Pallet Town. Red was very glad that even on an obscure route on the other side of the region, people were just as friendly.

Exploring Kanto was making him learn more about himself. He loved Kanto, but he loved his home the most. Visiting cities was nice, but it didn't compare to the love that burst through the seams of his heart when traveling with his pokémon.

It's perhaps this attitude which made him divert back towards Lavender Town in the first place. Forget about getting all the badges! Beating through the gym leaders was merely a single goal. For too long he'd been laser-focused to the point where every other aspect of traveling was ignored. So for every niche carved into the mountain, for every copse of trees that hid a fairy ring (rumored to hold Clefairy on full moons if it were a specific type of mushroom), for every part that had been glazed past when he was walking through with a ball and chain to his ankle, Red spent a little time sightseeing. He'd sit next to the route and appreciate the smell of the wind. For meals he'd actually sit around to play with his pokémon before continuing onwards.

From when they decided on splitting up, Red made sure Lane wasn't heading the same way he was. It was partially pragmatic. It was mostly to avoid the boy. The pragmatic part was trying to reclaim the Kanto ethic, that which animated his parents and drove the region into its languid pace of life: what is worth doing well should be done well, while that which doesn't need to be done yet can be done slowly. So instead of going down the familiar route, the one which he'd already pegged as boring, he went a little south to the route which laid at the lowest curves of the foothills, Route 11. From then on to the coast were intermittent forests that even he knew about. Rumors bounced around the kids that the whole forest wasn't even mapped out because of how dangerous the pokémon there were. Whatever monsters lived there didn't bother the people who ate with their backs to the gnarled trunks.

Implying that the route was even much of a route was misleading. Very thin bricks once made a straight shot towards the coast, though long bangs of grass laid over their stone foreheads, making the visible remnants more an implication of where to walk. Tall grass freely grew on the path and made Red weave his way through the place unless he wanted his legs to get scratched up. Charmeleon was out the entire way, taking care to keep his tail upright so it wouldn't light up a stray string—not that the fire would carry very far through the blinding green and damp earth which sucked in his feet. Charmeleon would every now and then sniff out a pokémon from a bush, forcibly challenging it to an extremely short fight. A massacre of Rattata happened that day.

With how slowly Red was tackling the route, they had to make camp somewhere inside the tangle. Grasses shot up like corn, reflecting the orange glow of his light as he divided his pokémon's food into different bowls. Each of them lost their individuality when eating. The second the bowl was in front of them, the pokémon started chowing down as if their pellets were disappearing. Eevee was the first to finish, sending a superior look behind herself before leaping onto his lap. Squirtle was the last. He'd been disgruntled the whole day, actually requesting to spend his time inside the ball instead of running around. It must've been an instinctive fear of green areas, Red reasoned. Furtive glances kept being thrown back as if the roots were going to snatch him.

Generally his pokémon liked to sleep together. Only Eevee was a snuggler, happily curling onto his chest as he waited for sleep to overtake him. The moon slowly trailed overhead. Red felt himself proud of his accomplishments thus far.

Waking up and making breakfast allowed him to see the area under daylight. Other than the gargantuan plants which raised above his head, they were in pretty much the only clearing without ankle-high grasses that somehow kept getting stuck underneath his pant legs and itching. Was it even a question why this place was a bad area to train? Charmander's fire aside, his pokémon were liable to knock themselves around. One strike from Eevee would make Squirtle disappear into the abyss of nature and, considering how Charmander easily kept finding fights, would most likely land on top of a pissed off grass-type. Not training made Red feel weird though. So for each of his pokémon he divided up some weights that he bought off from a girl. Eevee got one laying on her back. Charmander sniffed the clamps that clung to his biceps. Squirtle just seemed annoyed by the bulky helmet. Pikachu was completely fine with the red blocks that almost looked like pants.

"Alright, you guys. I want you to purposely go out and pick fights with those on. No other special orders. Stay nearby so you don't get overwhelmed. I'll come in and out of fights to individually help you."

Just to double-check, Red discreetly looked down at the manual. Calling it a manual was a bit much. The thing fit in the palm of his hand, text tiny enough that he had to squint to make out the little lines. 'Wear for battles and while walking to get the best benefits! Do it anytime, any amount of time you want! 10 hours of training recommended for the best results!' it claimed. Red still wasn't sure about it. Humans lifting weights for an entire day would probably kill them, probably.

Finding fights was simple enough in barking out challenges into the thick foliage. Pikachu couldn't last a tenth of the time. Within three fights he was collapsed in Red's arms, legs dangling and soft whines coming out from every movement. Red decided to amp up the training if a little extra weight made Pikachu impotent.

Out of all of them, Squirtle was the last one that he expected to last the longest, the tiny pokémon fiercely knocking down one last Pidgey before collapsing onto his back when they were reaching the end of the route. They were recalled in their balls for the rest of the day as Red picked up the pace. Smelling the roses was fine and all, but Red quickly got tired of the place. It stank like mold. The bricks which initially seemed so quaint started tripping him. Even when the grass shrank down to normal height, the tangle of it remained, making it somewhat hard to walk. Seeing the checkpoint between the routes when the sun started going down was genuinely relieving.

There were places in Kanto which were so famous that everybody saw them once—or so his television programs said. Red agreed, however. Everyone back home either saw or was going to see certain landmarks around their region. Ranking them was possible. Say that the most important was Saffron, as of course it was: it was the capital, and besides that were the sheer breadth of landmarks which outcompeted every other city. Then came the Indigo Plateau, which had such a massive presence that even their little corner of the world got visitors who'd gotten lost when the Elite Four were having a fight. Most people had at least hiked up the easiest path at Mount Moon. The cycling road was a new one yet already a bragging point that they used to jab at Johto for not having any equivalent. The Pokemon Tower too, though Red thought that one was overhyped. Finally, the least important yet still more important than the other scenic nowhere towns, was Silence Bridge. The ominous name was just because the fishers around there wanted complete silence. Red thought it was cool regardless, and couldn't decide where he'd rank it.

It wasn't a landmark just for being a cool name. Walking past the checkpoint made him stop just to appreciate the area. A fresh breeze dabbed away at the thick layer of sweat that had built up on his forehead. Waves gently brushed against the straight drop into the ocean, the sharp line of land being a man made barrier reinforced by intermittent concrete pillars. The 'bridge' was actually laid as hundreds of planks in a swirling maze of boardwalks. Some jutted out into the ocean while others smacked straight into the mountains that were far ahead. Different paths snaked off into strange places that were listed in 4 size font words on his map. Places which Red had never heard before were helpfully inscribed on the sign that was immediately introduced at the checkpoint; behind was Vermillion, to the left were towns he never heard of, to the right was a restaurant, more and more proper names which he would forget by the end of the day. It was a place that spread out through half of Kanto's height—and this wasn't an exaggeration. From the top which connected to Lavender Town to the bottom where the last pier was a stout series of red planks which was used as a fisherman's wharf combined into 90 kilometers! Including every single dead-end and long pier that jutted through the tide altogether into the true length of the boardwalk was never done. The only person who'd made it their hobby to measure it had moved away to Hoenn about a month before Red passed through.

Even from the place where Red stood, he could see the slight differences of the neighboring port in the wood grain. They were slowly built up generation after generation, eventually connected together for some reason or another. On the path that led north up to Lavender Town was a gigantic lump of fat blocking it. There was no way that the Snorlax was comfortable. Even with the bridge being pretty wide, its head was lolled slightly off the wood and was a bluff against the waves.

He made sure that he had as firm a grip on the monster's belly as possible before putting a foot onto the pokémon's shoulder.

"Hey!"

The shout nearly made him slip off backwards. One of the fishermen had crept over while he'd been preparing to scale. The typical getup of a fisher was at complete odds with the scraggly gray beard that reached past his heart. The way that his eyes were slightly shut made it look like he had a permanent glare.

"What're you doin' there? Don't you know that's dangerous?"

Red made sure that they were talking about the same pokémon by pointing at it. "The Snorlax?"

"Yes! You can't climb a pokémon like that! Don't you have any sense?"

"Snorlax are docile." Red frowned, thinking hard, before giving up on finding the name. "A friend that used to live in my town played with a Snorlax in the wild."

"Well the parents should be arrested for child endangerment!"

Red found himself taking off his cap, scratching his head. Ignoring his elders wasn't very Kanto of him. But so was not obeying his elders. Yet he had to get to Lavender Town. What a conundrum! He found himself trying to swallow the annoyance, a skill that he was learning from too much quality time spent with Lane.

"Snorlax are completely docile pokémon. It's only when they're refused food that they become angry, I think."

"You think?" the fisherman urged. His hands were tightened around his fishing rod.

"I'm sure you can get them angry another way. There's multiple traveling troupes that entertain kids by letting them hop on the Snorlax's belly. I should know since I've personally seen two."

"Well I haven't seen any!"

Waiting for him to go on, Red nodded. He hoped that it didn't seem patronizing. "Well, I have. They're fine pokémon, especially when they're sleeping. There's not much that'll wake it up like this. Maybe a pokéflute? Otherwise it'll stay asleep until it's hungry."

Or attacked, though even that wasn't a guarantee. There was actually a fun story from his dad's journey where the man's route was blocked by a Snorlax too. Frustrated, he actually sent out a few attacks to try waking up the big lug and got chastised by a pokémon ranger for not being sporting attacking a sleeping target. Consent for battling, respecting the peace, lessons that Red's dad made sure to firmly plant into him through story telling before he could get yelled at; not that it did anything good, Red thought to himself, waiting in dread as the older man's mouth started revving up by licking his lips.

The man was gesturing to everything by pointing his fishing rod at them. It's only when the plastic black rod was pointed right between his eyes that Red was starting to get actually annoyed. "And what makes you think that this Snorlax is nice too? The first thing they teach you about pokémon safety is that wild pokémon are not your friends! They are wild, dangerous, and are more than willing to hurt you. Touching them is asking for trouble!"

"But this is a Snorlax. Even if it wanted to hurt me, it's not going to wake up."

"And what if it rolls over in its sleep?" The man crossed his arms and nodded like they were done. "Exactly. You should go home. You aren't meant to be traveling if this is how you treat wild pokémon."

Red was now openly rubbing his forehead. It gave him time to think, though he recognized that the way that the man's eyebrows were dancing meant that he was beyond mad now.

"If the Snorlax rolls over, then I'll try falling into the water."

"Just goes to show that you aren't meant to be traveling around. This here water has some of the worst water-types that you can imagine slithering below. Krabby'll snip off your legs, ohoho! You don't want to see the injuries that those'll give you. If you're unlucky, then it could be worse. There could be a Seadra right there that'll paralyze you and you'll drift off into the ocean unable to scream for help. There could be a Tentacool in there that wraps around you. You won't die, but you'll wish you'll be dead. You see? Getting up on that Snorlax is just plain dumb."

Red raised his hands in a conciliatory gesture. To be frank, he didn't recognize two of those pokémon, but it sounded dangerous enough that he was willing to concede.

"Alright, sir. If the water is that dangerous, then I shouldn't chance it. I'll just go back and walk on the land."

"What!?"

The exclamation was so loud that Snorlax grunted, rolling its shoulders before falling back into a silent sleep.

"What, what?" Red asked.

The man started pointing at the entrance. "Over there?"

"Yeah." Red made a show of looking around. "There doesn't look to be any other land around here."

"The land?"

"Yeah."

"So you'll hop the fence?"

"I guess."

"Don't you think that fence is over there for a reason?"

Red now once again started rubbing his forehead. "Listen, sir. I—"

"I don't have to listen to you. You have to listen to me." The man rested his fishing rod in the crook of his elbow with a grimace. Red made sure that his back was straight and no nonsense was visible. "I don't know who raised you, but you don't talk back to your elders. You hear me? You're being disrespectful and I'd like an apology."

"I'm sorry for being disrespectful, sir," Red said. He was genuine. He genuinely wished that he never took an alternative route.

The man grunted. "At least you sound honest. But that's not enough because whoever decided that you were ready for a pokémon journey didn't know what they were talking about. We don't poke around wild pokémon and we especially don't walk off route. That's the easiest way to get hurt, no two ways about it. So you're going to go home and forget whatever trainer dreams you were having. Tell your parents sorry for not listening to them."

"I'm going to Lavender Town. If you have any alternative route to get there that doesn't require me to backtrack all the way to," and it was extremely hard to not roll his eyes, "Vermillion because then you're suggesting I add at least three days to my traveling."

The man tapped his foot on the boardwalk. It sounded like he knocked on a very thick tree.

"You could wait here for the Snorlax to wake up."

"They can sleep for days at a time," Red said incredulously.

"Remember what I said about listening to your elders," the man said simply, making Red once again straighten up. "Best to be safe or don't do it at all. It ain't my problem that you're wasting your time."

'But it's my problem that you're wasting mine,' Red wanted to say before holding his tongue. The quip was nice, cute, but he felt like it could be even better and he wasn't willing to be yelled at for a middling comeback. So he just waited for the man to finish before laying it out straight.
"Aren't you a fisher? What if you used a surfing pokémon to get me around?"

"Are you kidding me? Now you're suggesting that I help? Don't you even know that you need to properly be taught how to ride on any pokémon that you want to surf on or else it could hurt either you or the pokémon. I don't want any of my partners to be hurt just because you grabbed their fins wrong."

Red felt his own eyebrows start dancing. "Then can you teach me?"

"Why should I teach you?"

His fingers played down the pokéball. "Because you're telling me that—"

Red was going to continue until the man's lips already started parting before he'd even finished. Finally fed up, Red brought out his pokéball in challenge.

They finished the battle within five minutes. Even though the man had a full team, it had folded under the might of a tired Eevee repeating the same move over and over again. The pokémon treated itself by riding on his shoulder as he scaled over the Snorlax. True to his words, it didn't even react when he was crawling over its belly. Each movement made the fat ripple slightly underneath him. It almost felt like an inflatable bouncy castle, though the skin giving him a decent amount of friction spoke against that. Landing on the boards made the pokémon behind him do another heavy grunt before rolling onto its side.

He could hear the man screaming from behind the Snorlax. Even though his voice had turned emotional (watery, as if he was descending into tears), Red couldn't even be bothered to listen for another second. He just went to find a good place to set up camp and fell asleep without eating. The last thought that he had was that this incident must be covered up; his mother explicitly told him to expect a walloping if he ever used a pokémon battle to shut up an adult, no matter the reason. The shivers weren't because of the ocean's chilly breeze.

Going down the bridge thankfully didn't have nearly as many characters. Most of the fishers were content ignoring him as he walked by. This unfortunately didn't extend to anything that made noise. Even his pokémon's heavy breathing or thumping footsteps were given cold glares, which made Red give up and let them rest inside their pokéballs. They deserved it anyways. Charmander couldn't even lift his tail with how tired he was.

Red added in his head that it wasn't even a great place for training either. Perhaps one of those side roads, cloaked in thick brush with tongues of thorns laying out on the little visible dirt that stuck out, had a fantastic clearing for him to practice just off route, or they were where a dragon-sized Ariados was waiting with a trap to gobble him whole. Ignore the fishermen who would gang up on him for even attempting to train: the boardwalk was wide enough for a Snorlax to relax on it and for a fight to be had, but it wasn't wide enough for Red to risk his pokémon falling into the infested waters.

Then again, wouldn't fighting in precarious environments be training in itself? The thought bounced around his head until he decided that he'd make his pokémon try balancing on a beam while fighting. Eventually they'd fight while balancing while wearing weights. Maybe he'd also have another pokémon randomly throwing rocks! Then eventually they could fight on real precarious footing instead of simulating it to add to the feeling of danger. Red's mind was alight for hours as he thought of fun training regimens.

All the tiny pretty sights that he saw came together into a beautiful whole, and he wasn't talking about the pretty girl fishing, who giggled when he walked by faster. Fog rolled over that made the whole place seem like he was floating far above the clouds for the ten minutes it lingered. Every so often on the long straight pathways he'd close his eyes and just let the coolness leak into his nose. Mist pricked his back. Sea spray licked his arms. It took another day before he could see the tower peaking far above the foot hills that rolled out of the tide. Camping on the bridge was a novel experience that he cut short when a violent spray splattered over the back of his head. Fishing was attempted at the last stretch. He felt as though the reel didn't have enough leverage to properly catch the pokémon in the water, which is how he coped with the whole rod getting dragged into the water. Watching it spin around for a few revolutions before plunging straight down was the most embarrassing incident that had happened so far; the few flecks that had landed on his cheek felt like he'd been spit on.

It was only when leaning against one of the houses in Lavender Town that Red recognized the amount of stress that came from the journey. Traveling was fun, though sometimes you just needed a protracted break from the craziness. Especially himself, Red mused, since he had pretty much been getting pressured by something ever since Mt. Moon. First was the Team Rocket ambushes. Then that thing, Lane. Just thinking about the word 'Champion' made him feel ill.

His hands patted against the building before getting back up. As much as he'd like it otherwise, he had commitments. The psychic gym was around the corner. The Pokémon Tower was ahead. As much as he wanted to take a break, Red felt something pushing him forwards. Ambition? A sense of duty? Even when pressing himself, he felt like he was lacking the vocabulary to explain. Stalling every so often was required to keep his sanity, but he needed to keep moving.

The place was the largest building in the town by far. Other than the region-famous landmark, Lavender Town was a boring place whose only claim to fame was being built in the only place of the extreme mountains in Kanto's north-east that could support long term human survival. Red had heard that there were more towns further north with around 50 people each, and were the subject of a popular comedy where they were all depicted as Glooms who were content planting themselves and pretending to be flowers for the rest of time. Lavender Town was close enough to the major cities that it still saw outside traffic while remaining rather isolated. Fog regularly rolled in, making the early lamplights look like spirits hovering above the streets.

The behemoth which hung over the town was still visible through the wall of noise. Red stood at its entrance, looking up at the seven floors that rivaled the mountains around. North were mountains, south the bridge, and east extremely harsh mountains jutting into the sky before dropping off like a line chart of a stock market. It was practically the only reason the town had visitors besides hiking. Red never got his explanation as to why they decided to make a tower of graves. During his first visit he asked multiple times and got evasive answers every time.

None of the features were really visible with the dense fog other than the blinding beams that shone through the door's windows. Vague figures drifted in the void but Red couldn't make much out inside the lobby. Heat rushed past as it swung open. Few noticed there was another visitor. Most were contemplating, looking down or moving their hands in strange movements. Red knew better to disturb those praying and went towards the staircase that led to the second floor.

A miko, an older one, was kneeling at the foot of the staircase while her gohei swayed. The receptionist was playing solitaire on his desk. The whole place was a blinding white reinforced with every choice made: the furniture was white, the tiles were white, the walls were white, while the lights were the most eye-searing HID bulbs they could find, coming from little recessed circles punched into the ceiling. Every person stood out—the man wearing all black who was pacing in the center of the room, the little girl with her pink bow praying in the corner—against a strange style that Red could definitively say he wasn't a fan of.

Next to the shrine maiden was a guy wearing a black turtleneck. The purple scarf he had hung loosely against his chest, unkempt hair held back by a purple headband dangling loosely as he kept a lazy watchout over the room. He leaned against the wall, face slack like he was about to fall asleep while standing up. It was only when Red had approached the door when he finally regained life. A hand pressed against Red's chest. It was wholly unappreciated.

The man's voice was slightly nasally and high. It scraped against the perfect walls and drilled into Red's head.

"Slow down there, cowboy. There's a whole incident going on up there that we're trying to get a handle on. If you need to visit somewhere, then just offer 'em a prayer down here." The man's face slid into a sardonic smirk so easily that Lane assumed it was a common expression. "Wherever they are, I'm sure that they'll still hear you whether you're in front of their grave or not."

Red casually looked back at the crowd milling about. About fifteen people—he was too lazy to accurately check. Regardless, it was a large number of people who were doing their prayers while a single miko had started spreading salt around at the bottom step before continuing to evoke whatever power that she was tapping into.

"It's been weeks. I was here around a few weeks ago and this problem had been going on for a few days. I'm guessing that it's going to come around to a month and all that's going to be done about this problem is getting another person to guard the staircase. What's even the plan? Are there people up there?"

Wisps of smoke twirled into itself as the incense sticks burned. The wooden board laid vertical from the staircase as the woman raised her hands up. The man pushed off the wall and crossed his arms.

"Wasn't expecting a kid from Kanto to be this aggressive." Before Red could apologize, he continued. "Look, it's a bit of a situation up there. I was supposed to be the one to solve it and look at where I am. Relegated to guard duty. I've sent a request to the League for backup, but who knows when they're going to get off their butts to help."

Somewhat mollified, Red tried calming himself down. He wasn't even sure why he was frustrated in the first place. Snapping at random adults who didn't even wrong him was not okay under any circumstance. The incense started spreading around the room as the lady waved her hands around. It certainly reminded him of magic, but there wasn't any effect other than the smoke being brushed around.

"Sorry about that. I've had a weird few weeks. Though I'm not going to be as good as a member of the League, maybe I could help?"

The man tilted his head slightly. "And who are you?"

"Red."

"Morty." Now that he looked closer, Morty had thick bags under his eyes. They were accentuated by the pale skin that melded into the wall behind him. Soft chanting came from the woman. "Here's the situation as far as I can tell: somebody had disturbed the ghosts that live in the tower and sent them into a frenzy. Everybody's either scared off or possessed, still up there. Don't ask me how they're still alive. Point is that we're dealing with angry ghost-types, y'know? Kind of a city-destroying disaster that's only contained here for reasons we don't know."

"You don't sound too sure about any of this," Red said.

Morty's grin widened. "That's just how the business is. I'm guessing that you don't know much about ghost-types—seems like nobody this side of the range does. Ghost-types are fickle, kid. They come and go as they please. The only reason that they are usually visible is because they want us to see them. This is exactly what happens when you make one of them mad. Even calling in a ghost-type specialist doesn't do much when there could be a whole army of them."

Visiting the tower once had given Red enough of an idea. The very little time that he'd survived up there had been a harrowing experience dodging the twin attacks from possessed people's pokémon and invisible limbs trying to twist his nose. Thinking about it clearer, he could even agree that was the exact problem: they didn't know if there was an army. It was just an educated guess. It very well could be five or a million floating around the tower.

Though Morty didn't say it out loud, he was impressed that the kid was even thinking it through. Newer trainers generally either were meek—unconfident in their ability—or bold enough that only nailing down their feet stopped them from running in like a kamikaze—which also wasn't correlated with their ability.

Red finally caught on a part. "Did you imply that you don't know why the ghost-types are angry?"

"Good catch." Morty jabbed a thumb back at the staircase, nearly poking the miko who started standing. Her arms were waving around like seaweed anchored to the ocean floor, finally getting an odd look from Morty before he continued. "Thing is that there's no kind of magic that's keeping these things in place. Our good ol' spiritualists are doing their best but I'm certain that the ghosts are sticking to the area because they want to. No idea what's motivating them and I'm not gonna start guessing. That's only what idiots do."

"What do you mean?"

Morty looked around to double-check that nobody who he didn't want to listen in was near enough. There was a helpful perimeter that the people had unconsciously formed around the staircase. Even those who wanted to be near the graves had set themselves closer to the center of the room. Out of respect for the miko, following what others were doing, and trying to be far away from the only exit from the second floor was the order of how stupid each of those options were. These were ghosts. They could float through the ceiling and body snatch anyone before Morty could stop them. It's why he was more concerned about the surroundings rather than blocking the staircase.

"Because if the ghosts came around and ravaged the entire town leaving behind only pottery plants, then the people investigating would probably have to conclude that the motivation could've either been that a person insulted a trainer's name who had lived two hundred years ago or that they ate a sandwich that the ghost had been eyeing. They're fickle beings at the best of times. Even mine like to—"

He was interrupted by a mouth coming out of his shadow. Red couldn't even fully explain it. What was once a normal shadow, slightly dimmer because of the bright lights, had suddenly grown a white silhouette. More detail quickly formed as the ridges between the teeth grew and slight imperfections dragged tiny indents. It rose from the shadow with the blackness stretching behind like it was punching through stubborn plastic wrap. The mouth gleefully opened, letting Red see pink, and bit down on Morty's thumb.

Morty struggled keeping quiet. His cheeks blew up, face turned red, as he tried keeping the same cool. The mouth sprung back towards the shadow. Instead of fading back, the teeth flew backwards as if flying off into the distance. He lost sight after a little while, as though it crested over the horizon. Little angry marks the shape of chain links wrapped around the thumb's base.

"Son of a—and then he just leaves!" Morty seethed to himself for a little longer before violently rubbing the injury. It didn't help. "Look, what I've gathered is that you're new to dealing with ghosts. Good trainer or not, I'd rather like backup that knew what they were doing and wouldn't be complete dead weight. No offense."

None of the information dissuaded Red in itself. If anything, he became even more convinced that winding back to help was the correct decision. From his sack came the complicated machinery that he looted from the Team Rocket base. Let it be said now since it wasn't said earlier that Red wasn't a thief. He didn't consider himself a thief in any way, even one which did so with righteous causes. The only reason that he looted the bases was because it basically wasn't anybody's property. Ill-gotten gains being used to buy things pretty much made the items ownerless.

The thing was surprisingly heavy. It dangled from his hand freely, with the scopes facing the floor. Morty's face lit up in realization.

"The Silph Scope! You went and got this for the town?"

He'd seen it on the floor behind Team Rocket's head honcho. Initially he assumed that it was a doomsday device that they made. A convenient advertisement that he'd seen when leaving the jail informed him that he was stupid.

"Yes," Red said.

Morty was tapping his chin in thought. New opportunities opened up with having both a scope and a partner. Perhaps if their invisibility wasn't working, the ghosts would become visible anyways. Then he'd have a second trainer which was altruistic enough to get an expensive piece of equipment backing him up, which brought up another good point: getting that amount of money meant he was making serious winnings.

Just to make doubly sure, he asked, "how many badges do you have?"

"Four."

Morty pounded his shoulder. "Alright, kid, you've gotten your chance. You're on the team. Me and you are going to tear through this place like heroes. Heh. Yeah. That's exactly what it's going to be like."

"And me!" the miko said, popping up. "When do we start?"

They both stared. Even some of the people who were praying glanced before conscientiously looking down.

Morty nodded, looked back at Red, and then nodded again. "You know what? Sure. You'll come too. Why not."

"Why does she get to come that easily?" Red asked, trying not to sound sour.

"Because I'm tired of arguing and tired of being in Kanto. I'd like to wrap this up and go home, thank you very much. You guys don't even have service up here."

Morty seemed like he was going to continue before shaking his head, ascending upwards. The miko was practically glued to his back as she followed right behind him. Before Red took the first step, he double-checked the room. The smoke from the incense was powerful enough that it looked like a veil hung over everybody's head. There certainly was a haziness now, particularly dripping down from the ceiling lights. If you squinted it looked like the room was plunged underwater, with the same murkiness and invisible sways that came with it. Tiny strands weaved together into great plumes of clouds that brushed against the windows. Nobody stood out underneath the filter.

The next floor was ironically much more comfortable than the lobby. Some people would call him macabre for enjoying the decrepit stone that revealed the true nature of the tower, or the tombstones that rose to his neck with names engraved on them, with the last wisps of incense twirling out of the way as he walked. Even the lighting had changed. During the times of prayer, it allowed for peaceful contemplation. Each niche hidden by the tombstones became that much more prominent under the dim lighting. He liked it all, the mystery, the quiet. Red breathed deeply, appreciating the atmosphere before strapping the bulky scope on.

The world didn't look much different. Some parts were shimmering. The incense was particularly uncomfortable to look at, almost becoming a solid block of light that faded into tinier blocks breaking off from the main mass. Staring directly into the lights didn't hurt, but they did turn into plain colored domes that he couldn't see details through.

"That looks even more stupid on you than off." Morty bent down, tapping one of the lenses. "You see anything?"

"I see your face," Red said bluntly.

The man backed up with a laugh, glancing back at their hanger on. She was facing the staircase that went higher, completely still. He slightly leaned around her, waving a hand.

"Hey, you good? Feeling a sudden onset prayer coming on? Heh. Seriously, you good? You're kind of freaking me out."

She started screaming.

Chapter Text

"Alright, Lulu, here's the itinerary: we can be late for all of Red's little escapades except for when he roots out Team Rocket in Saffron. We'll have to keep a tight schedule to make it ahead of him, so we're going to cut ahead through the backroads. Hopefully the map covers the areas that we need to cross through. First we have to get three Lapras, two of which are opposite genders and seem compatible enough; then I want to find a new pokémon for my favoritest hero in the entirest world; then we have to make a bomb."

Lurantis squeaked in surprise. The other two pokémon were nearly falling over from their midday naps, not listening at all.

"I know. Lapras are supremely rare. However, I think that we can find them thanks to this!"

He held up a whistle that was just smaller than his thumb. A blue and white rope dangled loosely around the rest of his arm. A star-shaped exit hole was at the other end of the typical rectangular blow hole. The wood was shaped like a heart, with the exit between the mounds. Lurantis gave an alarmed squawk, waving her arms around wildly.

"I did not get scammed! This whistle actually resembles Lapras' cries. If you blow into it," he blew with all his might, making the other two fall off the bench in alarm. If any of them actually knew Lapras' cry then they would've been surprised at how accurate the whistle actually was. "It can be heard even deep underneath the ocean. It's verified information! The real problem is going to be doing all of this before Red gets wrapped up in his next set of shenanigans. The walk over to Lavender Town will be, eh, about four days if he takes it slow, two if not? I think that it's 60 kilometers or so. Then it'll probably take a day or two to deal with the problem over there, or more, less, whatever. Then he'll walk back which will be another few days if he doesn't get distracted. All in all, we have about a week to do all this if Red decides to book it. Daunting, I know."

Dunsparce slithered forwards to nip at the front of his shoe.

"Oi. We only have a week to get this done so let's get serious. We'll decide this as a team."

A map came out of his pack. Markings of different pens and handwritings were scrawled on the battle-worn paper, the creases where it was folded turning into cracked valleys over the colorful depictions of the region. Most of the exact details about political borders or human settlements were left vague in favor of a geographic view of the region. Long, snaking mountains still coexisted with the same forests through the centuries. Lane couldn't know, but there were actually plenty of geographical changes that weren't pictured. A mountain was partially carved thanks to a rampaging Dragonite firing a hyper beam and it was a worldwide trend for forests to be shrinking.

His finger traced along the routes until it landed on a specific pond. Looking around, most of the features depicted on the map were still there. Stupid trees, Lane thought to himself, mentally spitting on one.

More important were the details left behind by the previous owners. Alternate routes disregarding the National Kanto Safety Board's (NKSB, not much better than the official name, established when one too many kids walked into an Ekans breeding ground, with its jurisdiction covering Johto too, despite the name, after combining with the JBSRT, the Johto Board of Safety Regulations for Trainers) strongly worded suggestions for the safest path. Two different markers protruded from Route 11—one blue, the other yellow. Both had notes scrawled on it about the locations of specific pokémon and good spots for rest that were most likely dated; after all, entire square miles of habitat being lost wasn't something that the creatures who previously lived there scoffed at. Both lines eventually connected with the lower part of the region without having to work across half the continent.

"Alright, men! We have a choice here. Mr. Blue suggests that we take the route hugging the coastline. It has clear sights for most of it since the forest actually grows a bit away from it and there's a lack of pokémon around here that like to hang around the beach. The problem is that there's no easy way to reconnect with the southern routes so we'll have to rough it through horrible terrain for most of that journey. Mr. Yellow suggests that we take a nice walk next to a river. It's straightforward and we can refill water there, but it'll have competitive wild pokémon. Yellow will be faster since we don't have a pokémon of burden. All in favor for each, speak now or forever hold your peace."

One leaf pointed towards the yellow route. After a moment of thought, a second leaf concurred. Dunsparce let out a pitiful whine.

"You two are danger-prone, aren't you? Luckily for you guys, I'm danger-prone too! We're taking the dangerous route! Don't look like that, Dunsparce. We'll make it through fine."

"You know, young man, that there's a reason that the routes were made," said the old lady who was sitting on the bench too. Her little old-biddy cap made Lane chuckle when he first saw her, along with the slight shakes of head whenever she found something displeasurable. Thankfully his youth made talking about crazy things the hyperactive imagination of a child rather than genuinely mischievous. "So many young trainers never finish their journeys. So many are scared early or, heaven forbid, have their pokémon run away from their foolish hearts. Don't become another name in the long list."

Lane folded the map and put it back in. "Pfft. Those are amateurs, lady. I'm the real deal."

"Your poor little thing looks as if it's about to have a heart attack."

He looked down at Dunsparce, who was visibly shaking. His wings were flapping as if he'd finally be able to gain true flight to leave whatever nightmare he was imagining. Fomantis hopped on its back and patted its head.

"Who doesn't get nerves when they're about to do something courageous?" All of his pokémon except Fomantis were recalled, who was scooped up onto his shoulder. "See you in the funny papers!"

It turns out that no matter how 'elite' of a trainer you are, it doesn't mean much in the face of sheer overwhelming numbers. One would have to imagine the pure skill that the elite of the elite had to be with the stories that floated around. Surge being able to hold off entire squads during the war. Lance being able to subdue an entire swarm of dragons with a single one of his pokémon. Even Erika, the genteel girl, had a news story celebrating her taking down a horde of wild Tauros that were rampaging into the town without even a single broken window once she took the scene. Taken in the grand scheme of things, it was pretty pathetic to be running from a swarm of Pidgeots.

Lane ducked underneath a swipe that would've scalped him before throwing himself bodily down a steep decline. It was a calculated maneuver. Within the first three bounces, a Victreebel that would've made a delicious snack out of his foot cried in agony when he flattened it. Every single second a whole new scenery went by. Forest. Nature. Rocks in his shoulder. Rocks in his back. Bruises running across his body with the same color as the oran berries he steamrolled. Delicate plants hiding underneath the shelter of canopies were decimated by the force of nature that made its way down the hill. All the way down, the flock screeched in anger as they maneuvered around the trees in chase. Watching them twist around the obstacles would've been magnificent if they weren't trying to eat a child's head.

There were no natural routes anywhere. Any sign of human habituation was absent. As he finally started rolling at the bottom of the hill, he got up and continued running. The first bird dove so fast that it landed on the ground, claws carved through the fresh dirt as its momentum died. The bushes shuddered like flags as a single mighty flap sent the bird careening at its target.

Its caw was lost in the air. Roaring currents sublimated the forest's ambience. The mist from the raging river became so thick in some places that they started losing sight of each other. Lane found that either the river's edge was rougher than the rest or that his subconscious mind really needed the sight, as suddenly he found himself nearly tripping a lot more. The bird would fly near, reach out to attempt nipping him, before getting a faceful of the rapids gushing into its face that made it miss.

Another blast of air nearly knocked Lane off his feet. Popping through the treeline was one pokémon after another, taking formation in the greater flock like little fighter jets. Trails of wind flew from the tips of their wings. A tiny Pidgeot reached pecking distance. Its mighty head reared back in preparation. Another one collapsed from the leaves above with its wings spread wide, shadow overtaking his tiny body as its claws curled into little cages. Lane barely spared a glance back when he threw himself to the side once again.

The water formed a brief crater before sucking itself in. Lane's body sank beneath the surface, the currents uncaring of his flailing limbs. All the running left him breathless. Now underneath the water, his body wanted to suck something in, nearly forcing his mouth open by instinct. Another rock impacted his leg, sending him spiraling even further from the surface. Memory guided his hand to a pokéball hooked to his belt. Some of the fake ones had floated loose into the milky water. None of the real ones hopefully, though there was no way to check at that moment.

A bright flash turned into Dunsparce. The pokémon held his breath as his trainer gripped tightly onto his back. With the might of a being that wanted to live, Dunsparce used every muscle to float closer to the river's edge. In a single thrust they cleared the rest of the distance. Dunsparce's tail lunged for the thick rock and pierced through without needing to spin. Lane's hand blindly grappled for a handhold until one curled around his fingers. They both raised their heads above the waters for a badly needed breath.

The Pidgeot had spread out around the area. A screech behind him made both Lane and Dunsparce hurriedly duck back underneath the water. Letting go, they were once again thrown back into the mercy of the current. The next time they poked back up, they managed to catch two breaths before the shadow from a rapidly descending predator made them go back down. It repeated once again. Then again. They traveled down, spots growing in their vision as they were slowly starved of oxygen.

His head broke through with droplets freely running down the sides of his face. Dunsparce's own face was marred with a mix of river water and tears. Two pokémon looked down at them curiously, both their snouts bent down to take a sip. Both of the needles on their bodies were poised to gore them. Lane tried to raise one of his arms to say hello, only to find that the gamble had completely drained him of energy. None of the Pidgeot had followed for good reason.

"Please don't eat us," Lane said. His voice was only barely detached from begging.

The Nidoking huffed in amusement, reaching down to grab both of them by their necks. Without even a grunt of exertion they were lifted up onto dry ground. Dunsparce immediately burrowed into the ground while Lane just fell onto his back. Nidoqueen sniffed his side before grunting to her mate. From his vantage point, he could see the shine of venom on both the pokémon's hides.

"That was a mistake."

Nidoking nodded. His foot nudged into Lane's side, painfully awakening some of the lumps that were growing. A groan of pain made the nudging stop, though its shoulders bouncing was definitely chuckling at his expense.

"Hey. Big guy. Er, either one of you. Could you reach into my pack? Yeah, that. You can have those berries if you want. But get that piece of paper and unfold it gently. Now lay it out on the ground. Thank you. Then take that pen. It's the green rod in there. Yeah, that's the one. Now do you see that yellow line at the bottom of the paper? Not that one. Not that one. Yeah, there you go. Please scribble over it. Yeah, like that. Thank you."

It took a good amount of time before he could finally move again. During those hours he just watched all the floating debris that drifted around like he was on the ocean floor. The pokémon who saved him contentedly basked in the sunlight nearby, bellies facing up and arms spread out. He could feel the sunlight too. It was pleasant and welcoming, slowly traveling across the sky and peppering him like a shotgun through the few holes through the canopy.

Standing up and stretching gave him time to reorient himself and find that the desperate sprint didn't even take them that far. The peak of the hill they rolled down was still visible from where he was bending. It only felt like they were drowning for years because, well, that's what drowning made you feel. When the unusually kind giants lumbered off, Lane had to muster all the energy that was left in his body to bumble towards the goal. The only positive that he could find was that the river still led in the direction that he was going down. Joy. Only ruined his favorite (only) pair of clothes, dignity, health, and the mental health of Dunsparce. The pokémon wouldn't stop burrowing underground even hours after the incident and extended the wait time another hour to convince Dunsparce there weren't any more threats trying to eat them. Lulu ended up digging into the ground and dragging the squeaking pokémon out of its den so he could be recalled.

Because of the legs that had become half-leg, half-welt, all tired, walking towards the route took even more time than he was expecting. It still shaved off multiple days if he took the 'League recommended' path but the benefits didn't feel real as he hobbled out of the forest into an area sparse of trees. Either Marowak or Sandslash were near since there were holes hastily covered by loose dirt—from a fun fact pamphlet that he'd read back in prison. It also meant that the wilderness was going to cede its hateful territory back into the sweet bliss of civilization according to the map. Anybody who appreciates nature should be mauled by wild pokémon, in Lane's opinion.

It made a precarious walk going through grass that covered the floor and potentially dangerous holes in those parts he could see. He walked down the only part of the field without any visible landmines. Ground pokémon were the vindictive types who would indiscriminately spring a trap on whoever was unlucky enough to walk there. Tiptoeing a carefully constructed path through the field looked like aimless zigzagging from a bird's eye view that stretched out the relatively small distance.

Because the trip couldn't go normally, he nearly tripped on a girl that he only saw last second. She was crouched low, not even noticing him when his foot nearly kicked her back.

Her tangled hair had strays running in every direction. The short shorts would normally make Lane suspect that the person wasn't a serious trainer—the amount of issues giving nature and pokémon alike an easy area to strike were too many to count—but the red scratches that ran across the lily white skin at least meant she'd been wandering for some time. She curiously inspected the burrow, only to shake her head in disappointment. With a sigh, she stood up and turned around.

"Eek!" Her hand instantly went for her pokéball, only to stall when her head tilted down to his height. "Wait a second, you're small! I'm in no danger."

"There's a lot of power packed inside of me. It's pretty much the most efficient packing of power ever," Lane said.

"Nah, you're a pipsqueak. You like cheese!"

Lane's smile turned stale as his eyes drifted off into the distance. "Is this how people think I act? My references and silly use of words are more clever than this, aren't they?"

"You're speaking out loud," she said.

"I'm supposed to be. I needed to establish early on that you're witless while I contain all the wit in a two-for-one power, wit deal." He stuck his hand out. "The name's Lane. I'm a historian."

She took his grip. Despite the clear muscle on her legs and arms, it was gentle. "I'm Green! Just a normal everyday trainer looking for powerful pokémon. Do you know of anything cool in the area? I mean, you're pretty far out from the route. It's pretty strange for you to be out here, did you know? Almost like you're looking for something, huh?"

Suddenly Lane realized that he was in a dangerous situation. The entire conversation one hand was creeping downwards. Hiking after being injured sapped whatever youthful vitality that he was supposed to have. Even though the route was nearby, there was no way he was making it to the nearest city when the sun had nearly burned out.

In short, he was screwed. All that he could do was laugh slowly as they both backed up. Nearly tripping on a mound didn't make him keep that cool, aloof persona.

"You won't believe a thing that I say."

A ball retracted from her bag. Purple, with a bold 'M' on the top. That was the ball that screamed wealth or connections—or both.

They threw out their pokémon at the same time. It was only through an immense amount of self-control that he was able to not wince as a Ninetales formed at the other end of the field. Semi-rare, powerful, and considered to be a pokémon so dangerous that normal trainers weren't allowed access to them; and worst of all, it was a typing that Lulu absolutely could not get hit by or else she'd be incinerated. Begging for mercy was seriously considered for a moment.

"Ninetales, finish this! Use Hyper Beam!"

"You know that you're supposed to say 'finish this' when you're actually finishing it!" Lane yelled.

Through the brilliant glow that was coalescing around the Ninetales' body, Lurantis sped through the grass with her low blades carving paths through the dirt. At the last second she jumped to the side as her opponent's maw opened. A white ball, held inside its mouth like a tennis ball, expanded rapidly until a streak of light tore across the field. Even her nimble evasion didn't spare Lurantis from all the damage. The canyon that had been carved into the ground sent rocks flying onto her back. Little pain, but every hit counted, especially when the sheer heat of the attack had lit the drier grass on fire. They looked like incense sticks with their tips leaving dozens of smoke trails.

Lurantis fired off a blast of leaves at the pokémon, preemptively moving out of the way as Ninetales blew fire to clear them. It became a game; Lulu fired leaves as she was moving before a wall of fire smoked everything green out of vision. Green became the first player to get tired of it, stomping on the soft earth.

"What the heck? Command your pokémon or something. It's flailing! What the heck kind of trainer are you!?"

"The kind that exploits Kanto's lack of basic education!" Lane decided to pose, looking down at his clenched fist while pointing at the Ninetales. "Let me show you how to say this: finish it off, Lulu!"

Another blast of fire painted the earth like a black marker. Emerging from the shifting heat, Lurantis leapt through with only slight charring on its body. Ninetales was so surprised that it couldn't react as the Lurantis threw its limbs with wild abandon against the softer pokémon's body. The larger pokémon crumpled underneath the blows, getting lifted up in the air by an opportune strike to its abdomen before being launched back with a kick.

Green watched as her pokémon slid to a stop on the smoldering ground of its own creation. It tried standing up on wobbly knees. Without saying a word, she released another pokéball onto the field. She dragged her Ninetales out of the destruction, mindful of the fires, and got to work with a potion.

A ghost appeared on the field. Gengar's mouth opened wide to release a laugh meant to intimidate. The flickers left behind from the previous fight started dissipating as the air chilled.

Lurantis didn't care about that, nor the ball of sludge that flew straight at her face. The Gengar in its cockiness didn't bother moving as the tiny pokémon was blanketed in the muck. The dark purple hid the black that coalesced around her blade. She leapt forward and sliced down. Gengar was still smiling on its two halves before disappearing.

Green watched in horror as her second pokémon was defeated in a single hit by a bug-looking thing that didn't even reach up to her waist.

"What the heck is that!?"

"Power! Bring out your next pokémon! I guarantee that there's nobody on your team that can defeat Lulu. She has the ability which can defeat legendaries!"

Green shook in actual fear. She was still the one who started the battle. That meant she had to finish it. Any being with that much power wouldn't have mercy against such flagrant disrespect. Another pokémon flew out onto the field as she tried getting her shaking under control.

"Clefairy, baby! Use Light screen and Reflect as fast as you can!"

"Toxic it and then use Superpower. When you feel the time is right, take it out."

Clefairy could hear the genuine fear in its trainer's voice. As the poison seeped into her skin, she struggled to ignore the pain to construct the screens that would save whoever was coming after her. It was a strategy she was well familiar with. Even as her thick body was hammered, the light manifested in front of her. Countering blasts of pink energy seemed to be absorbed by the pokémon with how little it reacted to the attacks. It didn't take long before two blades swung together, sending the pink pokémon over the head of her trainer. Green didn't even look up at the screaming ball as she threw her next pokémon out.

The next pokémon landed on the ground without fanfare. The two launchers on its back were trained on Lurantis within a single second, tracking her as she dashed around. Neither side flinched at the declaration from Lane.

"Brick Break."

Green's heart sank as the screen of light shattered into motes of light. Blastoise was able to take the hit with only a grunt, even firing back into Lurantis' impenetrable chest, but any chance the team had of victory were completely sunk.

"I…" the words tasted like blood, "forfeit."

Blastoise's cannons turned towards the human that was moseying up with his hands behind his back. All the bruises that were on his body were covered up and his even, if slow, pace maintained the image of invincibility. Lurantis stoically walked beside her trainer, not even glancing up at the murder tortoise who could fire at any second. A long, strong shadow fell over the fallen pokémon. Green couldn't let the words bubble out of her throat as he leaned downwards.

"Your guys' education really needs to cover foreign regions. You could also do the actual mechanics of pokémon battling. I should not be winning these fights," Lane said.

Defiant blows hit the ground. She forced the words out, no matter how it went against her very being to beg. Ninetales watched her trainer sadly, not able to provide much comfort as that single set of attacks had definitely broken something.

"Give me whatever that thing is. I'll do anything to get that much power," Green said.

Money signs floated around her body. All of a sudden an enemy became a worthy prospect. That master ball made her all the more attractive in his view.

"That can be arranged."

"Remember, Lulu. There's a single thing that makes the world go round: whatever the other person believes. If they respect power then the only thing that matters is power. If they are a slave to money then the only thing that matters are those beautiful notes. This is how idiots think and these idiots rule the world, so we've got to get into this mindset so we can conquer the world."

The pokédollars were slowly counted in Lane's fingertips one by one. Each one a fraction of the promise made.

Lurantis gave a confused trill.

"What makes the world go round for us? For you, it's my continued safety since you're my little angel." Lurantis rolled her eyes but didn't deny that. "For me, it's whatever I'm focused on at the moment. Do you see what I'm holding? This is a free boat ride. That's what is turning the world right now. Oh, and your safety. But duh, that's a given. Call me greedy, but I have a lot of priorities!"

"You sound rather manipulative, young man," said an old man who was sitting on the bench next to him.

"I definitely am. Now let's brainstorm here. I'm trying to make my friend think that I'm omnipotent so I need to meet up with the gym leader before he gets here. How can I meet up with him and make an impression so that he remembers me during my next visit?" Lane asked.

The old man stroked his chin, fingers taking careful time to run down the length of his beard. "What a conundrum. Unfortunately, he only notices who he wants to notice. Being a challenger at the gym or to be on official business would be the best ways. Even so, if he deems you unworthy of his time, then I doubt he'd come down to personally meet you."

Getting a better look at his pokémon, Lane scoffed. "I think I've got a plan, but that doesn't matter at the moment. Now tell me how long you were planning on not bringing up the damage?"

The old man leaned in towards the sheepish pokémon. "Is she hurt? I can't see anything."

A sweeping finger ran over particular spots. Slight discolorations that most wouldn't notice dotted her body, making the bright pink lines lean slightly further towards red. Little pools that he could barely find after a thorough inspection. The old man, whose eyesight was fading with age, couldn't see them.

"A Lurantis' skin is really delicate. They need constant maintenance to keep their brilliant coloration. It's because the colors can only be produced when they get a certain type of water full of the essential minerals, and when the climate is right for them. Poison, ice, and fire disrupt their natural abilities to make the chemicals that make the colors." Lane rubbed his forehead as he realized that enough places were damaged that she looked like a dalmation now that he noticed it. "Argh. This sucks. If the damage was this intense, then it's going to take so much time for them all to get better."

Lurantis had her arms behind her back, toe nervously tracing circles on the bench. After a moment of thought, Lane ended up shaking his head.

"It's not important right now. I've got a plan to get Koga's attention. Come along. Be ready in case things go south."

"Live on, young 'un. Hah! Always wanted to call somebody that."

The gym was at the south of town, near enough to the ocean that an insufferable salty smell clung to the lobby no matter how many incense sticks were laid out. Succulent plants with their engorged leaves mingled with Kanto's typical hardy trees to create a wall around the base of the hill, separating Fuschia City from the shore. Infamously known for its treacherous waters, the southernmost part of Kanto had nasty hidden rocks that would tear through ship's hulls. Powerful currents dissuaded even the normal person from making their vacation at one of the many rocky outcroppings that would lean into the ocean.

The inside of Koga's gym was completely barren past the single man sitting at the front. A baggy garb covered nearly every inch of him. A mask over his mouth prevented Lane from seeing the frown. Oh, and he was staying balanced on a single foot while his other leg was crossed over his knee. It made Lane want to walk over and give a slight push.

"We were not aware that there were any gym challengers at this time. My apologies, but Koga isn't in at the moment," the man said.

"Oh, that's fine. I just wanted to buy a bomb but I guess I'll have to come back some other time."

Two people silently landed behind him. Without glancing, Lane whistled a jaunty tune as he waited.

The final man landed in front of him. Only wrinkles around his near-black eyes were recognizable through the similarly incognito clothes that he wore. Lane could recognize the gym leader from the pictures that were online. That pokéball that he had withdrawn would carry a monster inside of it—one that he most likely couldn't scratch. Lurantis and Dunsparce weren't the greatest answers to poison-types despite Dunsparce having some familiarity with ground moves.

"You've got a lot of nerve walking into a gym leader's home and threatening him." Fingers tensed around the ball. "Now what do you represent? Some sick prank? Or something more?"

"I was told that money makes the world go around. I thought that if anybody in the region would make bombs, it'd be the person who does infiltration stuff or something. So do you have a bomb? It just needs to be strong enough to knock down a wall. I can pay. If no, then just direct me towards the nearest person who can fulfill my request. Do they take an invoice?" Lane offered, holding up the bills.

Only the finger gently running down the curvature of the ball indicated that the man was thinking. Lurantis tried acting intimidating towards the trainers behind them, though neither even glanced at the pokémon who came up to their knees. Koga raised his hand.

"Janine! Get me that bomb for our guest. You know the one."

No response came except for one of the ninja to disappear back into the rafters.

Seconds passed. Doubtlessly there was movement going on above, but he couldn't see past the blackness and didn't hear anything past his own breathing. Lane wondered if there was tomfoolery with invisible walls working there.

A ninja that could've been Janine or somebody completely different dropped from the ceiling with a cylinder that looked suspiciously like a pipe bomb. Lane immediately was suspicious of the object. Wires ran from the stuff that was haphazardly taped to the sides of the spray-painted pipe—white—that threaded into the cap. Now, he liked to believe in human kindness. Surely Koga was giving him a legitimate bomb because he asked so nicely. But he wasn't born yesterday and he knew how adults worked when children asked for dangerous objects.

That didn't mean whatever the pipe did was worthless. As he said, people make the world go round based on what they want to or, more specifically, what they believe.

"How much?" Lane asked.

Koga took the bomb, appraised it, then chucked it. Lane swiped it deftly. The thing felt heavy enough to convincingly be a bomb. There was a strange smell either from the cheap metal underneath it or the cheap spray paint used for it. A real question emerged: why did the poison gym have such an object on hand? It looked like it was being used by terrorists rather than professional ninja.

"Keep your money. We've been trying to find a use for that for a long time. And for your own safety, don't walk into a gym talking nonsense like that ever again. I'm in a rather good mood today so we'll leave this situation on the down low. Now, if you'll excuse me…"

On a hidden cue, all the ninjas leapt back to their positions into the ceiling. Lane tried to trail them up there. Going, going, going, gone into the blackness that surely wasn't natural. A sleight of hand that he couldn't see through.

When they walked back outside, Lurantis ran in front of him while speaking nonsense.

"Yeah, this thing is definitely not a bomb," Lane said, looking at it from all sides. "They probably gave me a—heck, I've got no idea. A Halloween prop? Think that we should go back up and catch an Electrode?"

Lurantis shook her head.

"You're right. We probably won't make it in time after all the tomfoolery that nearly killed us. Where would you even get one? Whatever. Here's the new plan: we're running out of time so we need to hustle. We're going down Route 18 and hoping that there's some fisher nearby we can flag down. We'll catch the Lapras and then get dropped off as close to Lavender Town as we can. Ready? Ready!"

Despite what he just said, the most that his battered body could manage was a pace better fit for men with canes. Lurantis faithfully kept up to her trainer's side as they walked out of Fuschia. Shadows elongated. Lights flickered inside of buildings. The closer they got to the city's edge, the more indecisive shapes trailed around the forest. Pure black was open on the other side of the checkpoint's building. Even the humming bulbs inside of the building couldn't pierce through the natural darkness.

Kanto's early to bed, early to rise motto had gotten the best of him again. His throbbing legs, much worse when he woke up, couldn't manage to make it into town within a reasonable time.

"Tomorrow. We'll be heading down there tomorrow. Hm hm hm~! I hope that hero is getting into a dangerous, foolhardy venture to make up for me not prodding him into one!"

Red's back pressed against the grave. The dearly departed's name needled into his spine. Something or the other, a great ancestor of a modern pokémon who was famous for their circus act. The attack broke against it by splatting against the entire face, transparent trails that Red could slightly see through. Laughing children echoed around him. They became thinner until completely disappearing.

Charmeleon was pressed against a tiny grave. The family who bought it couldn't have been a great one since it was just a tiny box sharpened to a point. Each of his ears stuck out the sides, flicking as the same streams of darkness licked against them.

Double-checking that he was clear, Morty leapt between his headstone to the next. Bang! The ball of shadow exploded when it smashed against the ground, stretching out like a beach ball would before finally popping. The brush of air made him roll the next then leap towards the last one. A small flurry of tiny shadows flew by that eerily reminded Red of machine gun fire. The few that smacked against the headstone made the older man flinch slightly. It was covered up by a grin that belied his nervousness.

"People get possessed when they come up here, I think I've mentioned."

Another barrage kept Charmeleon in place. Growling, the pokémon turned and spat out a stream of fire before hiding again.

Red held his cap down as a sudden gust nearly flipped it off. "Stop talking and do something."

"No, you're supposed to ask why we—"

Another blast made the tombstone shake. Morty leapt a bit, still speaking..

"—aren't being possessed. But I get it. Business first, huh? I like you, kid."

"Get on with it!"

It was supposed to be a cool moment where he'd snap his fingers and say, "already done," but it's only through many failed attempts that he knew reality never worked like that. Midfight evolutions never happened, explosions knocked you over when you were walking away, and his pokémon creeping out of the floor would take an extra second to attack. So instead he snapped his fingers and said, "the hard part's done. Now we just watch the fireworks."

Hands crept out underneath the laughing Gastly's form. They wrapped around its body. What would've been impossible for the humans was happening, as the pokémon who barely could keep its form into a tight ball was being wrestled onto the ground. It let out multiple alarmed cries as the purple floating hands started pressing down, making the ball turn into an hourglass shape. Haunter's delighted face started raising from the ground, a horribly malignant glee from inflicting pain.

The miko looked as if she hadn't slept for days. Her skin had turned pale, eyes unfocused. Her arms freely swung wherever she moved, no muscle working behind them. Each movement made her head bounce against her shoulders. Slowly a halo formed behind her. It was black, pressed against the bright background like it was sucking in the light. The eyes that formed at both sides of her head bounced around, wisps trailing around her like an aura, before the ball shot straight ahead. Another Gastly joined the fight, snickering as another transparent ball of energy started forming in front of it.

A beam of water punched straight through the ball of shadow. For a moment it looked like a donut. Then the energy exploded outwards. Black gunk coated everything that was in the immediate surroundings—including the miko's face. The screams from her were compounded by the ghost that just got hit by its own super-effective attack. Haunter looked behind him before shrugging and continuing to choke the enemy ghost. Its prey was stolen by two well-placed shots, popping the enemy ghosts.

The humans looked behind themselves to see a cocky boy swaggering up to them. The gigantic tortoise that was trailing behind him tilted its head and blew. It was attempting to look like a cowboy that just fired, but nobody got that reference since its neck couldn't even come close to twisting towards the cannons.

Blue pressed a hand against his chest, tilting his head away with his eyes closed. "I couldn't help but notice how you got yourself into a pickle, Red! I thought that you were this great trainer who carried lackeys around? Where even is he? Did he realize how lame you were and ditched you?"

"A blowhard," Morty simply said.

"I wasn't talking to you, but I think that there could be something to be said about your appearance. Get some sleep, old man," Blue said.

"A confused blowhard."

"That about sums him up," Red said. Now that they were safe, he pushed off the tombstone and stretched.

A twitch of his eye was the only indication that he heard them. Barely able to stop his fingers from clenching, Blue transitioned into pointing straight between Red's eyes.

"So?"

Red lightly pushed the finger out of his face. "So what?"

"What about my thank you?"

"Thanks," Morty said. He started walking. "C'mon, kid. We've got a tower to tackle."

Red nodded and followed behind. Blue was left pointing at nothing, frozen, only breaking the silence by a whine that was slowly ramping up. Behind, Blastoise started to chuckle as his trainer started throwing his fists around.

"Oh, so Red is too good to give me a thank you, huh!? I go out of my way to help his lousy butt when I could've just turned around and left. But no! I get beaten by some random kid once and all of a sudden I'm no good! A perfect, clean record without losses except against Red. I bet that he had to repeat the water gym a bunch of times while I have never been stalled once, even if Blastoise had to work around his weaknesses in the grass and electric gym. But nooooo! Those fights don't matter. It's when I just left the wilderness after fighting for my life in a moment of weakness that matters. You know what? You know what? Forget about that! My starter has evolved while yours is still a puny little Charmeleon. Hah! Take that, Red! Red? Red! Where the heck did you go?"

Realizing that he'd been ranting to an empty room, he ran ahead, Blastoise lumbering behind in no particular hurry. The miko's hands were trying to rub the stuff off her face only to have gigantic taffy-like globs stretch out.

"Come back here, you Rattata! You owe me a battle! No, two battles! Best of three! I'll give you a chance and we'll do best of five. Hey! Are you listening to me?"

Chapter Text

There was a revelation that started dawning on Red as he traveled.

"I don't have an angle!" Blue yelled, flinching as another poisonous projectile slapped against the ground. Bits fell onto his shoe, making him wildly fling it around and sending it flying like a sprinkler.

His own pokémon were balancing on one another behind a particularly thin obelisk. The way they constantly moved made Red worry that they would eventually topple when a more violent attack was sent their way. The egg at the bottom was glaring at the group who were gleefully snickering as if this was a game. Even the psychic blasts that weren't strong enough to pierce through solid stone didn't change Exeggcute's unflappable demeanor.

Meanwhile, the ghost expert who was supposed to be their main support for the mission was floundering in the face of human opponents. Those ambushes that they'd pulled off on the possessed trainers below didn't work so well on an intelligent squad who commanded their pokémon to keep eyes on their flanks. Any hint of shadow emerging from the bricks would be forced to recede as either buzzing clouds of pink or purple shots of poison splattered where it was trying to attack.

Morty tried poking out to glance at the situation, receding back when a glob of spit flung right where his eyeball was. "Neither do I. Geeze, what's with these guys? I've never heard of Team Rocket being this coordinated."

The top of the Pokémon Tower was a large field of tombstones. Most were the same squat, silly height where Charmeleon eclipsed over the gray boxes. Some would assume that these were the most luxurious (as luxurious as a final resting place where your body wasn't even stored could be) of the whole place considering it was the highest floor. Tour guides would happily lead visitors far away from the bereaving, mood-killing mourners while giving the interesting history, fluffed up with enough words that the same information communicated in the brochure at the front desk could extend past thirty minutes of walking. The tower was built sequentially with the bottom part having been built before Lavender Town even existed. Each floor was added by another generation, meaning the dinky tombstones at the top floor were the newest.

Red wasn't an engineer, but he guessed that's why the whole tower was almost a grave itself—without windows, decorative flourishes, all for the service intending for future generations to build higher. Higher donors willing to have their dearly departed's names be displayed for all eternity or when the tower finally collapses (whichever came first!) paid for the few larger tombstones they could hide behind. A very recent problem came from turning it into a tourist site as people outside the town wanted to buy their own spots, another spat starting over extending the tower after its last renovation had only been thirty years prior, and the role of outsiders taking up the graves previously made for the locals.

Interesting history, something that made Red more excited than the frustrated grunts of his comrades.

"Aren't you supposed to be the adult here? Do something!" Blue yelled, cringing when another barrage coated the floor around him. "You must have some kind of ace pokémon that can wallop these guys! Come on, let's see it!"

"Funny that you say that. I do have an ace pokémon who's currently back at my gym to make sure that the younger ghosts aren't misbehaving. I only took along my weaker ones 'cause I thought this would be an easier mission," Morty said, smiling as if it actually were funny.

There was a beat where only the enemy trainer's taunts could be heard.

"Are you kidding me!? What kind of adult are you!?"

One of his Ghastly poked out from the ceiling. There was an unspoken agreement that passed when their opponents didn't immediately shoot at the new arrival. There were three grunts, four pokémon currently out pinning them down. A Drowzee and Koffing were doing all the work in covering the three trainers with their surprisingly strong attacks—the unconscious body of Blastoise propped up by two tiny graves still hadn't been recalled—while a Zubat and Golbat were keeping their backs watched.

Morty's hand chopped down. Blue gave a thumbs up. Red shrugged, hand revolving asking for more. Morty chopped down, moved the hand to the right, and held up a two. Blue gave a thumbs up. Red was looking between Chameleon and Blue for some kind of reassurance that he wasn't the only one who didn't know what was happening. Blue pointed at the enemies and counted down from five.

Five. The eggs finally stopped moving. The whole balancing act was a show. Latent psychic energy made them perfectly line up like a totem pole.

Four. Charmeleon was confused also. He was moving his claws around, trying to communicate that he didn't understand to his trainer, who was moving his hands around to show that he didn't recognize what his pokémon was trying to say.

Three. Morty breathed, dropping the unflappable demeanor when the kids weren't looking.

Two. Blastoise groaned as he started coming back to consciousness.

"Go!" Blue yelled.

Morty was surprised since it was a Johto-wide tradition to count to zero. Thankfully Charmeleon was proactive enough to step out; his trainer was too surprised to call out an order. From above the Ghastly formed a ball larger than itself, a glossy surface that looked like it was the surface of a bright pool.

Three different attacks sailed towards the same unaware Drowsy. His squat feet managed to avoid the stream of flames, accidentally stepping away from the ball that exploded into quiet screams, but not the counter-psychic that knocked him onto his butt. Left with an ambush that didn't take out the pokémon that they'd all fired against, the pokémon were struck dumb, standing in the open waiting for a counterattack. Red's arm hooked around his pokémon's belly before visible sound waves scattered the floor's dust. His ally's pokémon started dropping unconscious.

"You guys were supposed to aim from left to right! The signal! Why didn't you follow the signal?" Morty yelled.

"What signal?" Blue started smacking his arm. "Was it the weird, I dunno, kung-fu that you were doing?"

"It was the silent signal so their pokémon didn't hear our plans!" He bumped the back of his head against the stone. "This may have been a mistake."

"Which part?" Red muttered bitterly, trying to glance out again. It felt like his eyes tried to escape their sockets. One of the grunts knew that the heroes would be too afraid to try another move like that and was using the time to heal up his pokémon. It would've been wholesome, the way that he patted the bald yellow scalp while bumping foreheads, if the pokémon didn't go back to sending psychic waves to dissuade Red from sticking out.

More attacks spread around the field. Red winced as multiple tombstones got damaged. A poor neighboring engraving had turned from Scruffles to Sçroff+øs because of the Zubat's horrible aim.

"It was just supposed to be a visit seeing what was aggravating the pokémon," Red continued to mutter, getting concerned whines from Charmeleon. "Of course it was Team Rocket! Who even are these people? Why are they everywhere?"

Morty glanced over. The man was sucking in his jaw as if afraid that it'd poke out. "You don't know who Team Rocket is?"

Any more conversation was interrupted as they heard more pokéballs being released. The trainers looked between themselves, starting to visibly sweat as the situation was becoming worse.

Their ward finally stuck out his head a bit. With no tombstones large enough to cover another body, he was forced to hunker down with his hands over his bald head. Red thought that bushy eyebrows had finally graduated into true jungles when they started hanging off, partially covering his eyes. It was the only positive of the whole scenario saving that man; he just wished that there was somebody a little more forthcoming that one of their town members had been kidnapped curiously around the same time that the ghosts in the tower had become agitated.

"Excuse me, sirs, I don't mean to be an obnoxious bother but, heh, you do, uh," the man, one Mr. Fuji, interrupted himself with a gulp, tugging at his collar, "have a handle on this situation, right?"

Morty impassively watched as his Ghastly was caught off guard by the new forces, sticking out a bit too far and getting punished by a barrage of attacks. None of them were very effective against ghost-types but the difference was well made up by getting hit at four angles at once. His pokémon bounced like a basketball when it fainted.

"Like a glove," he said.

The Wheezing had finally gotten experimental. The glob of poison was shot in an arc, nearly grazing the roof. Nobody could've expected it unless they were watching. As it was, Red was given a gift of a stinging foot as it landed straight on his shoe. Kicking it off saved him from further pain. The globule stuck like a piece of gum, though being about the size of a fist with the consistency of a jellyfish made that imagery slightly nauseating to Red.

"Come on, 'hero', do something!" Blue yelled.

That finally snapped something inside of him. Red's head turned like it was on a dial, clearing angles with tiny snaps until he was staring at Blue.

"Come again?"

"You're supposed to be the guy, the awesome trainer who has groupies and is too good to catch new pokémon." Blue's teeth bared, a predator's delight rather than a good-hearted smile. "Show us why you deserve to be here, 'cause from where I'm standing, you've been cowering behind there while we do all the work!"

Red forgot about Team Rocket, about how they'd been ambushed upon entering the top floor, about anything other than the smarmy smile of a friend whose relationship has run deeper than either boy was comfortable with, because that's exactly how Blue could manage to get underneath his skin so easily, how he could feel motivated without the other party putting much thought into their insult, which then led to another layer where Red knew he was being manipulated and Blue knew that he wasn't even trying to hide the manipulation.

Leading straight from the staircase towards a lone tombstone on the other side of the room was a clear path that the Team Rocket grunts had stationed themselves. On both sides were tombstones that they foolishly weren't using out of sheer confidence in their strength.

"Give Charmeleon covering fire," he simply said, hooking his hands underneath his pokémon's armpits. The lizard didn't fuss. His tongue was greedily licking his lips, already imagining the payback he was going to inflict.

The orders that came from the two other trainers were filtered into background noise as he chucked his pokémon over the tombstone. It was the surprise factor that made their pokémon's aim even worse. Half-formed sonic waves chipped off pieces of stone around Charmander, raining debris down on his scaly skin as he dashed between the tiny tombstones. Thanks to his small stature they provided effective cover, as he only needed to wait for the next series of attacks to fly above his head before dashing for the next one. Tiny nicks came about from lucky hits. When he was finally getting exasperated from having to leapfrog, finally came down multiple shots from his side. Jets of water and pink clouds that distorted the space behind them flew overhead as multiple gaseous pokémon emerged from the walls.

It was his chance. Without any fear of getting attacked, Charmeleon ran straight towards his prey. The first one was the Drowzee, the only one who had managed to hit him. Flames arced from around his teeth as he bit down on its body. Deeply he sank, giving himself enough leverage that he could toss his target around a little before tossing the limp pokémon at the nearby Wheezing. Knocking out one of their own had awoken the pokémon around him to the real threat. It was already too late.

"Holy moomoo," Morty said as he watched three entire pokémon trimmed within ten seconds of impact. Singular bites were able to knock out the weaker ones. A Wheezing was thrown across the room like a baseball, smashing into a Zubat and causing them to bounce against the ceiling. "Why were we waiting so long when you have an ace pokémon?"

"Ace? He's good but he's not that good. We have to work on his techniques, he doesn't have that much move variety, he's pretty slow, and I'm not satisfied with Fire Fang. See? He could've done way more damage if he could control the fire better." Red didn't turn to see the incredulous looks he was being given. "He's also not too tolerant of pain. It's pretty easy to knock him down, which is probably his biggest problem. It made it so that he would have been too distracted to run at them when he was getting attacked. See? He's ripping through them so easily because he doesn't want to get hit."

Only the Zubat were left after the initial massacre, sending down absurdly loud screeches that created a cycle: fly away as the Charmeleon uses the tombstones to leap ever closer, screech at him when he was about to catch them, and then scatter to opposite ends of the room again. The dance was ruined when the last Ghastly popped out from the walls to finish off the fight.

There wasn't time for a celebration yet. From the crowd of quivering grunts stepped forth a cocky man, swaggering forth with his thumbs hooked into his pockets. His slicked back purple hair caught Red's eye for how shiny it was. Even in a place where the lightning was obnoxiously bright (and he realized it was probably exactly so guests could clearly see when a ghost was coming) it was absurd seeing his head shine like a helmet.

The man put his fingers up, framing the Charmander who was growling at him.

"This little scamp doesn't seem too bad. I dunno! I guess that you're all just incompetent or something," he said. Red thought that his voice was how he imagined a poet to sound like, carefree, and oozing a self-confidence that bordered on narcissism. "Name's Petrel. You're looking at a grunt who's quickly rising through the ranks. I was sent here as backup which seemed superfluous at first, but I guess the big boss was prepared for these guys being horrible at their job. Let's get this over with. I bet we'll rake in a huge sum for a gym leader and some brats as ransom."

"Gym leader?" Blue repeated. His finger trailed among all the people in the room before landing on Morty. "You!?"

"Not the time, kid," Morty said, preparing for the pokéball that was sailing through the air.

Formed in front of Charmeleon was the biggest Raticate that any of them had ever seen. Its fur was well taken care of, underneath a hard pill made of pure muscle. Already Raticate were larger than babies; this one fought against a young child before their growth spurt, casting a few inches over Charmeleon's already considerable height. There was no sign that one was afraid of the height and weight difference, nor the other shying away from the brief spurts of fire that leaked out of his opponent's mouth. One leapt for the other, claws grabbing onto their own.

Charmeleon let out a grunt of surprise as he was grappled. His foot stepped back, feeling the full weight of the pokémon fall down onto him. Soon enough any hope of spurting out fire was denied as he was sputtering out short breaths in exertion. His shoulders were forced back, the smaller pokémon's wicked teeth chattering like a jackhammer as they got nearer. Snorts emitting air hot as an oven became shorter and shorter. Its entire body started trembling. Within five seconds, he had been forced down to his knees.

The optimal move would've been for the others to intervene. Red running ahead made Morty hold out a hand against Blue.

Red skidded behind his pokémon, falling on the ground and smacking his palm down.

"Come on, Charmeleon! You've got this! Remember your training! Remember what we've done together! You can do it! It's all you! All that time that we've fought together means something!"

More encouragement came out like a stream. An endless generator of encouragements of basically rewording the initial ones until Red ran out of synonyms in his limited thesaurus and started repeating the same exact lines. Each second the pokémon started visibly struggling more, until its arms started buckling from the strain. The display made Petrel laugh.

"You've got to be kidding me. Your pokémon isn't going to find some hidden well of strength in him. That's done! The weak are—"

"Shut up!" Red screamed. "We're stronger than this, stronger than you! I'll never let myself be defeated by you Team Rocket goons! And if you think that this is all Charmeleon has, you're wrong! We're stronger together, better than you'll ever be! Show them what you have, Charmeleon!"

Belting out alongside his trainer made the room seem to shake. Their voices intermingled, turning into one monotone as a brilliant shine enveloped the pokémon. The Raticate, refusing to let go, let out a pitiful squeak as its paws started lifting until it was kicking in the air. The remaining silhouette became visible when the shine started dying down. Everyone could see the massive wingspan stretched wide, the stubby snout elongating. Nobody really had words for what happened. Morty was struck silent, Blue seething, Petrel already raising his hands in surrender, and the grunts who hadn't tried making a break for it babbling in pure confusion.

Only Red, standing underneath the protective wing of his pokémon, looked as if he was completely unsurprised by the outcome.

It wasn't that much of an issue rounding up the criminals past that. Morty did the bulk of the work, calling up the police and watching as the statements were taken. Blue was happily engaging with the attention, bragging about the parts of the fight that he'd been involved in, embellishing the details to the consternation of the officer forced to deal with him. Red's part hadn't been very long; both of his comrades had emphasized that he wasn't much of a talker, leaving him in the back of the room with his newly evolved pokémon hovering behind him. Charizard was happily testing out his new wings, making a concerted effort to keep afloat for a few flaps longer each time he leapt. Red made a note to himself to properly train that later. What to do? Wing-ups, flying target practice for Squirtle, the possibilities truly were endless.

He stared at the lone tombstone. None of the police had been harassed upon entering the tower. That meant the incident was dealt with, probably. He turned around, about to walk away, when there was a sound of thumping. Nobody else seemed distracted—not even Charizard, happily attempting a loop before falling on his head. It was rhythmic, loud. It sounded as if it were coming from beyond the walls in all directions. His world was swirling. Wordless chants joined along with the stomps.

He spun around. A transparent pokémon wearing a skull on its head was standing on top of the tombstone. A single nod and it vanished. No preamble. The silhouette was so memorable that he swore that he could still see it standing there, watching him. The thumping had dissipated. Only his heart carrying the beat reassured him that it had happened in the first place.

"Kid!"

Normalcy returned when the gym leader ran up from behind. Only a glance was afforded to the grave before he focused on Red.

"Gotta say, you handled that pretty well. I would almost say that you didn't need us at all with the way that you're battling. You thinking of going to Johto?"

Red shook his head. "Not for a while. I have a few more badges to get and, well, I'm not sure yet. I think I'll make a bid for champion, but I'm not sure if I'm good enough."

"Heh." Morty made it clear that was his response by letting it linger. "Since you've been such a great help, I'll give you a free answer and advice. I'll answer any question you have and give you advice for free. Careful now! It's not often that you have a gym leader's ear."

"Every gym leader has given me advice on any questions I have even before I battle them. Both Misty and Brock even gave me strategies that a fire-starter could use when I scheduled my fight." Red shook his head as logic didn't budge the unflappable grin. "Fine. What did you mean by Team Rocket? Everyone knows about them?"

That made Morty sober up a bit, though only a bit. His eyes were still shining and tone kept bouncy. Now that Red thought about it, there wasn't a single time when Morty sounded dire. Keeping it easy must've been the man's motto. "Ah, that one. Not the thing I'd expect a trainer to ask me, but whatever. I'll give you the big scoop: Team Rocket has been a presence for quite some time, longer than you've been alive. They're the biggest criminal group that exists. I'm more shocked about how you haven't heard of them. You haven't been extorted? Had a pokémon disappear? Challenged to a battle and had more money taken from you than what's allowed?"

Red shook his head, dumbstruck. "I live in Pallet Town and—"

"You live there? Nevermind, that makes sense. That place has no money. You're a bunch of country bumpkins from what I hear. Team Rocket's only really a problem in the big cities because that's where they can slip away easily and make the real money. It'd defeat the purpose of doing crime if it didn't pay, and your rink-a-dink town barely makes more money than the museum up north, right? That sounds right." Morty relaxed against a gravestone. Now that they weren't in a crazy situation, Red thought that was disrespectful. "Granted, they've certainly been bolder than they have before. This is a huge spot, pretty much the only reason anyone in Johto would know anything about Lavender Town—it's practically mocking Kanto. Well, it's a Kanto problem. Johto has a Team Rocket presence but we don't have it nearly as bad where civilians are getting kidnapped. I'm sure you guys can figure it out, heh."

He didn't respond, too dumbstruck to think of a response.

"Now for the advice! Run while you can. Your wannabe rival over there probably still wants to battle, especially now that you got yourself an evolution, and he hasn't begun to touch the fight with Team Rocket since he's too busy claiming all the glory. If you run now you can get ahead of him. Here's some money. Buy a new pair of shoes on your way out. And hey! Don't be a stranger. If you're ever in Johto, then swing on by and I'll tell you why we weren't possessed while the girls were. If I'm feeling generous, you'll get the ear of a gym leader again. If you're feeling generous, I'll show you how I've made fire-type trainers weep during my career. Catch you later, 'hero'!"

On his way down, Red saw a white circle floating above the ground. One of the only channelers who wasn't possessed. She pointed to the thing and claimed again that there was magic that would heal his pokémon. He left without entertaining her.

Red left the tower. The revelation that had been dawning seemed to strike him harder than ever. It wasn't just Lane who was annoying. Eccentric people were annoying, and people were annoyingly eccentric.

Red was starting to think that he liked pokémon better than people.

Waves crashed underneath the short dropoff into the sea. Sharper edges with tufts of grass still growing on the sides of the discolored rocks, mud lines trailing down from long term erosion, looked as if the world was sliced through with a cake knife. A single nudge further would make him tumble down into the ocean. Murky water hid the schools of fish that were battling deep under; so sudden was the dropoff that if the water was drained then the basin would dip further than any mine or valley on the continent. The white picket fence quaintly dug in between the route from the untamed wild with its flowers, long grass, and buoys that demarcated the 'safe' zone from the 'rocks that will kill you' zone. Groups of bicyclists would glance at the crazy person with his thumb sticking out towards the ocean as they sped past.

"Would you get back over here? The dirt is literally sinking as you're standing there!"

If his brown hair wasn't disciplined underneath three different layers of hair gel (one that was applied that day, one that was applied after the river debacle, and a natural sheen from the amount of sweat since he didn't stop for a shower at the pokémon center) then it would be flowing freely in the harsh breeze. Shaking striped legs tried to follow dutifully along with her trainer even though her other claw was gripping tightly on the fence. Her free claw still dutifully was turned upwards in its best approximation of a thumbs up. Another strong wave crashing against the cliff face sent water splashing on their feet. It numbed his digits and sent a thrill up his spine.

"I'm trying to catch a taxi!" Lane yelled back.

The crazy woman was some kind of official, Lane scoffed derisively in his head. Some woman! She was wearing the same getup that a pokémon ranger would wear with their stupid orange heads and stupid ropes hooked to their belts. Lane scoffed again, jabbing his thumb more aggressively into the sky. If she were so worried about their well-being, then she would've forcibly dragged them back onto stable ground.

"You can't keep saying that nonsense! Get over here!" the ranger yelled.

There were boats out in the sea. It wasn't as if they were acting like fools for no reason. None of them had taken the bait. Lane wondered if waving around the money like a flag would get them a better reception.

"I'm not leaving until I'm picked up!" Lane yelled. He glanced back. "See? There's one coming right now!"

The ranger regarded the boat approaching in horror. Its weathered hull and yellowed flag declared the owner's pride at being too lazy for maintenance. Just through the shimmering images were Tentacruel swimming alongside the hard metal. It was built like a crescent, with the bow tilting slightly upwards. The man inside, ripped sleeves showing off his inflated muscles, was chewing on gum. The Slowpoke on deck didn't seem to acknowledge that people had entered its vision, continuing to chew on five pieces of gum. The helm was inside a tiny room that protected the sailor from weather, windows smudged as the best cleaning they'd been given was the ocean's breeze and a stained rag inside one of the drawers.

Lane gave it a once over and was satisfied. Lurantis felt the exact opposite.

"What's up with you, boy? Don't they teach you nothing? There ain't any etiquette for sea taxis," the sailor said, spitting his gum into the sea.

The ranger frowned at the action.

Lane took the moment to wave the money around. "I've got money! Get me as close to Lavender Town as possible!"

The sailor leaned in, eyes squinting. "Yep. That's a good price. I'll take you there."

"You can't be serious, sir! This is flagrantly disrespecting the sailor's zones! And—and decency!" the ranger yelled.

"Lady, those codes are only for the politicians to feel good about themselves. You're actually on the field. You should know how often they're violated," the man said. The ranger gritted her teeth, unable to answer. "'Sides, we've got a good path that'll hardly kick up a fuss. We'll head around as far as possible t' avoid any rocks and then circle round the region. F'it makes you feel better, we're goin' through Magikarp's Pass. This boat 'ere is small 'nough for it. Not that I'd ever recommend going through 'er, but money greases any hull."

The leap towards the boat was small. Perks of being on land just elevated above the sea level. Lurantis leaned against the Slowpoke as the rocking immediately started doing its devilish works on her. Money exchanged hands. Within a few strokes, the boat was moving again, Lane waving at the ranger who spent about ten minutes of her life trying to convince a kid not to do something stupid. It took much longer for the cyclists and hills and rangers to become little specks. His source of entertainment was gone. With that came boredom already.

He walked around to the entrance of the captain's seat. The man had taken another piece of gum as he was lazily keeping a single arm on the wheel. The radio blared about local elections that were happening around the region before transitioning into a caller bragging about their shiny Caterpie.

"What was all that jargon you two were speaking about?" Lane asked.

The man lowered the radio's volume. "Buncha legal shlock. They make zones where amateurs, fishers, swimmers, and big ships're allowed. The amateurs don't interrupt work. Sailors make a living. Swimmers get not run over. Big ships get to ship 'er cargo. Natural pokémon generally ain't no problem—'less they're a Gyrados." The man shivered as if his feet were dipped in the water. "Never cross that 'un. Never done it. Nobody done it and lived to tell the tale. Safer than not t'just avoid the pokémon waters anyways. Jus' one overpowered Goldeen an' you're capsizin'."

"So we're crossing through where only swimmers are allowed?"

"There's a band 'tween Fuchsia, Cinnabar, and Pallet where only swimmers are allowed. Ships still need to get through though so there's three different passes: Gyrados, Slowpoke, and Magikarp. Magikarp is the least used cause it's the smallest and just heads into some deadly sea stacks. It'll get us to where you want the fastest though," the fisherman said.

It took a while, but Slowpoke finally raised its head as if the trainer called it.

The fisherman glanced down at his pokémon. "Not you, Nessie. Settle down."

The pokémon continued looking at him for a few more seconds before laying its head back on the deck. Lulu rolled off the soft fat onto the hardwood. A harsh thump came from her limp body bouncing against the weathered deck.

Lane winced at the pokémon's dazed eyes, holding his pokéball up. "I don't think you've got sea legs, Lulu. I'll call you out later."

They floated languidly along the ocean. Those same places where he had once been walking across came and went. It was with a careful eye that he traveled along the visible coastline. It was only when the mist became too much that he had to turn back to the captain.

"Do you have binoculars on the ship?"

The man patted down a pair that were lightly thumping against the wall. Black, utilitarian, with visible finger marks running across the grips and calcified ocean lining the right glass. Putting the thing up to his eyes made Lane feel like he was more holding onto a telescope as one eye had turned to hardened water. It still zoomed in well enough that the details of the forest became sharper. Trees depositing their gunk that gathered alongside the softer waves between protruding rocks. The contours of the landscape that would dip further below sea level to the heights of cliffs that'd have secluded houses built at their apex: those would be gone within the next few years. A Spearow dived into a crowd of Wurmple. The binoculars quickly redirected somewhere else towards the sheer amount of pokémon that dotted the entire coastline with their magical little bodies. Too many species to count were visible from a vantage point they'd never expect. Only a wary Ekans had spotted Lane looking from the boat and waved its tail in greeting, or in threat; Lane wasn't an expert in the pokémon's body language to tell. The sheer variety that was visible from the harshest crags to the few bars that provided an even inlet for smaller pokémon to rest had convinced him of the area's importance. Noting down the place on his map with the sailor's help, he continued looking along for his other objectives.

Rocks spiced the coast. Tiny and big, they spread across the land to create a treacherous path if the boat floated any nearer to land. Only a flock of Wingull carried along by the wind floated alongside them. Thunder rolled in the distance. An adventurous bird lowered down in front of the boat and leaned. The tip of its wings skidded alongside the water, sending off tiny rainbows into the air. Staring into the horizon in the opposite direction would swallow you whole if you weren't careful. The grinding intersection where neither sea nor sky was comfortable in their respective place fought for dominance at a place that he could hardly make out. Swirling dark clouds emitted from the sky eventually changed the scenery. Finally, he complained to himself. Staring at the nature that nature'd as nature does was starting to get boring. Pokémon only made the same craggy cliff and sandy beach and wet ocean so much more interesting before they became another feature, the same as a rock (the billionth rock that existed on this rock) or patch of dirt (the quadrillionth patch of dirt that existed on this dirt-encrusted rock.

Lane leaned against the railing, letting his head hang. The pole was uncomfortably pressed against his spine but he also didn't want to move. It was that mood where you were bored while not wanting to do anything. Petting the Slowpoke was cool for an hour before the fat blob started becoming more like a breathing stress ball.

The sailor was an attentive man, also not critical of a young person's whims. When he was sure that they were heading in the right direction, he came out of the box for conversation.

"So what's your story, young 'un? Name too if you're feelin' generous."

Entertainment! Lane shot up, patting his lap excitedly.

"Well, I'm Ha"—he violently coughed—"hahaha, that's interesting how you ask for my name because it's a very weird one! It's Lane, and I'm a historian. I'm currently cataloguing the future champion's journey by following him around like a stalker. He doesn't like me very much."

The man always had gum. No matter rough waves or calm, there was a piece stuck between his molars. Lane could see it bounce around in the back of his mouth as he talked. "Wasting your time? That's about the long and short of a journey."

Lane started laughing. "That's honest!"

"True 'nough, least for the most of us." The man slid down, sitting next to his pokémon with a hand resting on its head. "See 'ere, I ain't a battler. See a strong pokémon and I'm skedaddling. That's the most of us in Kanto, but we got a whole tradition over it. Why?"

Lane eventually realized the question isn't rhetorical. "Because you guys are dumb?"

"Speak like that to the wrong guy and you'll get your hide whooped. It ain't dumb. Nessie here's my partner, been since day one. See, kids love to battle. What better way to teach 'em lessons 'bout life than setting 'em off doin' the thing they love." He spat out the gum in a wrapper, the same one that had lasted for three hours. Another piece popped inside. He offered one to Lane, who gleefully swallowed it whole. "Lotta lessons. I learned I ain't strong and I ain't important and I went back to my home so I could be a fisher just like my pa."

"You're saying that I'm going to be disappointed in my hero?" Lane asked, laughing in bemusement.

The man just shrugged in response. "I ain't got the lessons you'll learn known, 'cept I got one that I think'll be important: that we ain't important people. Got a lot of luck and big stories and big 'ol hero moments I done. Got a lotta kisses from pretty ladies in thanks too. Took me a while to recognize that I ain't the type to be the one, and you'll only know when it's time to know."

Lane stood up suddenly. His hands were clasped behind his back, swinging around whimsically as he traipsed around the boat. The man was watching while Slowpoke was watching an afterimage five seconds behind Lane as his feet started swaying, tracing long lines around the deck. His feet were moving in the best approximation of a dancer, a ballerina whose grace carried him from the portside to starboard. His hands played a fanciful tune before coming to a stop in front of the man.

"You don't have to tell me that! I'm not the hero! Red is the hero! He's the hero and future champion of the region!" He spun once, standing airily at the center of the swaying boat. "Y'see, I'm fine with being a red link on a 'pedia page, only a vague mention that the historians would debate if I ever existed. Maybe that's asking for too much, but I'd love for that. A little mention that I had fun once because I will have fun. Let me show you how that's done."

He walked to the very tip of the boat. Boot planted on the curved edge, a heroic horn gripped tightly in the ridges of his fingers. His mouth curled around the woody lips. A deep breath inhaled. The salt in the air hurt the cracks in his lips. A mighty blow came out. So came the call of a Lapras, mournfully blowing into the air for any other of its kind. He took a deep breath and then gave another blow. Through the harsh wind and force smashing against the boat, the fake Lapras' cry ended in a panicked foghorn.

The hero was thrown off his mighty steed into the water.

"Kid!"

The sailor ran out of the cabin. Before running past the Slowpoke, he gave the pokémon a kick, then grabbed a rope to throw out. The Slowpoke stared. The rope flew. The Slowspoke licked its nostrils. The sailor yelled down at Lane. The Slowpoke got up and jumped overboard.

Lane was deposited back on deck with teeth marks ripped through his shirt and a whole deal of slobber more than he was used to dealing with, laughing. He thought the whole thing was so funny that he laughed about it far past that day.

Walking through the devastated hallways of the company was interesting because the definition of 'devastated' varied depending where he'd been walking. Those areas around the teleporters were heavily guarded by Team Rocket and were promptly destroyed by him. Some had signs of fierce battles; Red hoped that the people who were in them were alright. Other hallways just had a desolate feeling to them, places where there should usually be people moving around midday being reduced to ticking clocks keeping time for no one. All the same, he carved through the resistance. Hostages lit up as he beat down their captors. Guards assigned to certain junctions were left wailing as a kid half their height wiped them.

Red was aggrieved. The battles weren't even that hard! It just showed the competence of Team Rocket that he, who'd barely been training for just over two months, was able to do all of this. He remembered all the lessons that Professor Oak had given him, specifically about evolution. Evolution was a tricky, misunderstood process that Oak had been able to enthusiastically talk about for hours. Do it too early and the pokémon has developmental problems. Do it too late and the pokémon has emotional disturbances. Even if it was a clean evolution, all sorts of caveats came from the new form. Then came the issue with evolution itself: it wasn't for the faint of heart. Many trainers never saw their pokémon's evolution, and those that did generally went through years of training to unlock their pokémon's hidden potential. Stories regaled by younger trainers about people who took an entire decade to make it to their pokémon's final evolution, others whispering about how the housepet was their father's partner who never evolved. Statistics bolstered the argument: the average trainer had evolved their starter after six months, then only a fraction of those could get the final evolution after another year.

Red stared at the glowing form of his Squirtle. Wiping through the rest of their pokémon was much easier when the enemies were that demoralized.

He fought to the highest point of the building. He would've been there if it weren't for two grunts who stood in front of the teleporter that was going to take him there.

"Oh? Looks like the twerp has finally gotten here," the one on the right said. He was surprisingly short and had a voice straining against puberty.

"Shall we bring him in? The boss will be happy," the one on the left said. Red honestly mistook her for a man until she spoke, especially since she was taller than her partner.

It was enough that Red had to sigh. They clearly had all their pokéballs hooked on their belts (a handy device for trainers. Cheap knockoffs for all brands existed, the most popular and the one that was standard issue for Team Rocket being Au Revoir Fantina.), which meant that he was dealing with five pokémon between the two of them. There was the same exact cockiness that every grunt kept up. Whether that was delusion or a method of pumping themselves up was unclear.

"Look, can we skip this?" Red asked.

The two grunts kept up their pokéballs, backs arched to look as intimidating as their pokémon. The words took a moment to sink in.

"What?" the man asked.

"Do you two have lives? Do you do anything other than this?"

Both of their faces turned red. Embarrassment, fury, and some strange mix of shame came over them.

"Who the heck do you think you are!?"

"I'm just saying that it's pathetic how you're wasting your time doing something like this. What is this even going to achieve? Even if Sabrina didn't step in, you were eventually going to get overwhelmed by the cops outside." He jabbed a finger towards the window. Morbidly curious, the man peered through the glass and paled at the ocean of sirens. "Plus there's the fighting-type specialist. If all of you are getting beaten by me, then that's not even going to compare how badly you would've lost to them. And what even is up with that? You have all this time on your hands to train and you all battle like you've just gotten your second badge. Where are all of you from?"

"I got to the seventh gym before calling it quits!" the man interjected.

Red tapped a finger on his thigh. "Okay? How much have you trained since then?"

"Um, that's—"

"And have you kept the same pokémon since? If so, then you should've built up a team instead of your two pokémon."

"Well—"

"And your excuse?" Red asked, looking at the woman.

"I'm a dockworker! I work! I'm not laying around all day like this bozo!" she said, pointing at her partner. He squawked in protest.

"So then why are you here?" Red asked.

"Not everything is alright like in your fantasy world," the woman said bitterly. "In the real world—"

"Not what I asked," Red said, tone flat like a board. "I mean why are you here? If you're supposed to be too busy to be training pokémon, then why are you doing a job where you're expected to fight?"

The grunts were looking uncomfortably between themselves. The man was too busy looking down from the window while the woman was realizing that the team briefing had neglected to make a certain aspect clear: even if the building made it so that the employees were trapped, they too were trapped when the police had barricaded the lower floors.

"Hey, can I talk to you for a moment?" The woman didn't wait for an answer as she forcibly dragged the man so they were facing the other direction. While Red crossed his arms in impatience, she lowered her voice to a hush. "I know that we're Team Rocket and all that. Discipline, unity, we're all one family, that kind of stuff and all that, but can I be honest with you for a moment? I'm in it for the money."

The man glanced back. Red was still waiting. Keeping his eyes off the boy was hard, but he managed to pull them away. "You know what? Same. Never liked those team unity meetings."

"Oh, yeah, those are the worst. They're just—did you get paired with Johnson? In the, in the falling backward one, you know? The, what's it called?" She knocked her head a few times to get the memory jogging.

"Trust fall?"

"Trust fall! Yeah, that's it!"

"Yeah, with Johnson? Yeah, he makes you think that you're actually falling and waits a second longer 'cause he's strong enough to grab you when you're, yeah."

"Yeah, just the absolute worst."

"Yeah."

"Yeah, and, you know, I like to be free. And we're standing across from the kid that single handedly destroyed our home base."

"Allegedly," the man interjected.

She blinked once, then twice, waiting for some kind of punchline. None came.

"He broke into—"

"Allegedly," he interjected.

"—our base and beat everybody up. I'll tell you what isn't alleged: he probably beat everybody else downstairs."

The man glanced back again. He could see the bloodthirst in the boy's eyes. "Totally. Yeah, I've, you know what? I'm, I'm gonna be honest. Never cared for battling."

"Oh, you too? Thank goodness. I thought that I was the only one," the woman said, relieved.

"Yeah, because, you know, it's like, uh, how do you say it…"

"It's barbaric. Not very civilized," she said.

"Yeah! That's exactly it!" He jabbed a thumb back. "You know what happens when our kids are exposed to battling? That."

Red didn't even care to pretend that he was offended.

"Oh, yeah, that's awful. It's just like, how do we allow our kids to be going around doing stuff like that? It's like they're—" She paused, eyes trailing upwards like they were trying to swap backwards to see her brain. When he was about to ask if she was possessed, she came back. "Okay. Let's say we stole some of the worker's clothes and skedaddled. Just run out the front door and don't look back. I saw some lockers back there that we can steal from. Probably a little money in them too."

"Great idea."

They shuffled past Red awkwardly without saying another word. All in all, that took more time than if he actually battled them. Sighing in frustration, he took a step forward.

"Hey! Don't think that you're getting away from me! You avoided our last fight like a coward! You've left a debt open and I'm here to collect!"

Blue's voice came from behind. He was about to be ambushed by Blue in the middle of a hostage situation. People! People. The people who couldn't beat weak grunts, the grunts who were dominating the region despite having teams that would lose against gym trainers, those around him annoyingly eccentric—people! He repeated 'people' in his head for long after he left the building, being praised by an adoring crowd in front of cameras while staring blankly into the horizon.

By the time that he was deposited back at the boardwalks that partially made Route 12, he felt like napping for the rest of the week. All of his clothes were barely even fit for survivalists. Bathing in freezing cold rivers and the even colder sea made his skin feel like it was turning into a plastic baggie that held all that was 'him' in. Not to mention the disastrous losses of tons of valuable pieces when he fell into the ocean—like a lot of money. Thankfully he had the sense to throw his bag on the boat so that everything didn't get swept up in the waves; not that it escaped the abuse that everything else did during the rest of the trip, but was rather an improvement than being a vindictive reminder that even the hardiest pieces of clothes had a last straw. His trusty sack's strap was fraying. A beak had nearly ripped it asunder when trying to gore his heart out and the ocean had done the rest.

Hey, but the map was okay, and a lot of the food. Knowledge and food—the things that made the world turn he'd heard once, though he personally thought that was both pretentious and stupid.

The boat had made it within six hours, but his own feeble body was acting as the real obstacle. Being through the worst planned three days in his life would leave enduring marks on his body. There was a pretty deep scratch that was left behind by the forest which Lane idly wondered if it was going to scar. The rest barely began the healing process. But he had an image to maintain! So he dragged, tugged, pulled, whatever needed to happen with whatever leg became bum. Sometimes he'd become too tired to continue. Other days he'd have enough energy to walk normally.

Five days. While he nearly crossed an entire hostile forest within a single day, dragging his tired body through a place that was comparatively an amusement park had taken five entire days.

It was actually inside the city proper where they found each other again. Red was walking down the street with his normal stoic face. Lane had just done a makeover. A jacket that looked just enough like a suit while being insanely comfortable didn't go with the normal pair of jeans. A barber had redone the hair dye and styled it back to its former brown glory, slicked back and ready for a business deal. A trusty backpack that had some kind of whatchamacallit technology (bigger on the inside than it was on the outside) had replaced his soldiering napsack. Just to sell the illusion, the cherry on the Alcremie, they got matching sunglasses. Lulu had initially protested before going along with it before realizing how awesome she looked.

A random street corner was chosen. He pretended to be reading the paper when Red walked up. Red continued walking, barely pausing, forcing Lane to pretend that running didn't hurt.

"Rude of you to ignore me, hero!" Lane said when he caught up.

Red barely glanced over. "You disappeared all that time to get a makeover?"

"None of the places here allowed me to shop with all the Rocket goons protecting the places," Lane said, sighing mournfully. "I mean it when I say that I was thinking about your problems when I went on my shopping spree."

Red looked down at Lurantis. She adjusted her sunglasses.

"You're horrible."

Lane once again had to speed up while pretending that his legs weren't shattering. "But hey! Have you done the gym yet?"

"Yes."

"Darn! I wanted to watch this one too but, ah! You could've just stopped by and picked me up, hero!"

That finally got Red to stop and squint his eyes. "Were you sitting at this corner the entire time waiting for me to walk by?"

"Perhaps. Maybe. Mayhaps not. Where are we heading next?"

Red squinted before he realized that no answer was forthcoming. He continued walking, continued staring ahead as if he weren't having a conversation.

"Fuschia City."

"Ohohoho."

"No. Don't make that sound."

Chapter Text

Red didn't like that the boy next to him seemed to be omniscient, how he just happened to sneak up on Red right after he'd gotten his badge. It was easy to assume that there was another pokémon Lane hid away that could sense where things were—either a flying-type or psychic-type. Who knew? Considering the boy didn't have a single Kanto native, it was possible that the mystery pokémon just had an ability good for tracking and wasn't either of those typings. It meant that Red was left in the dark. He didn't like being left in the dark.

They were on one of the most straightforward routes of the region, a straight shot from one end to the other. It was famous even back home for its mild climate and eternally green forests that made it a perfect spot to picnic when the weather permitted it. Past the forests were some of the most dangerous wild pokémon known to the region, shaped by rules absent of humans since the dawn of recorded history. Each of the paths had their own histories attached of generations of brave explorers piercing through the wilds, generations of clans sketching out tiny pre-routes which would connect the lower part of the region with the higher, before a region-wide effort was made into connecting all the cities without disturbing the old-growth forests; that Pallet Town still was disconnected from the center of the region was a matter that most of its residents bitterly complained about, especially when much worse no-name towns of ten people had tiny backroads that could cut through swathes of the region instead of having to do a roundabout path to Saffron.

Essentially, this was one of the only places in the region where exploring was absolutely never recommended even for the gym leaders.

Which is why Red's eyes felt like they nearly popped out of their sockets when Lane was getting nearer to the forest. He wanted to stop looking, waiting for the Arbok to swallow the boy whole before slithering back to its den, but it was as if he were watching a horror movie where the protagonist was willingly traipsing into the basement. Lane got stuck lifting his foot over a thick branch. Realizing that he was alone made him wave back.

"Come on! I know a good place over here! It's pretty free of any dangerous pokémon." Lane glanced back again. "Come on, come on!"

"No," Red said, continuing to walk.

"There's rare pokémon where I want to take you if that's your fancy," Lane said.

"There are also rare pokémon over at the safari zone. I'm not going off route," Red said.

"Bawk bawk bawk bawk."

Red didn't even humor that one.

"Ugh, fine! It's a certified place! Known to the locals or whatever. Besides, don't you consider Lulu to be an ace pokémon? She'll easily fend off any wild pokémon. If you want then I'll have her out the entire walk," Lane said, flexing his arm. Underneath the thin, cheap material was a bruise where a beak tried to tear a piece of him off.

That one made Red actually consider it. All of that was true. If Lane was going to actually try, then this was the same person who held off a gym leader. And this was also the same person who got him an Eevee for free no matter if the methods were shady. His eyes weren't wide with greed necessarily, though Red would have to be an idiot to ignore the power boost.

Red finally walked over to the treeline, nearly pushing Lane over as he rolled through the thick brush that prevented either of them from seeing further in.

Lurantis took the lead as the mower chopping roots older than all of them combined. Hardy plants evolved to become the great wall fending off the wilds, becoming a construct that had survived through tsunamis. Thick barreled trees intermingled with plants that suckled off their roots, tangled with brambles that would hide their thorns underneath greener plants. Leaves would get stuck on their clothes, quickly ripped off until they realized it was an endless task. Lurantis did her best in making the path maneuverable. The larger bushes were trimmed and low lying branches chopped and the debris patted down by their shoes. Through all of this, Red didn't see any pokémon. He imagined that anything other than bug-types navigating through the thick walls of plant life would have a difficult time. An Ariados lowered down on her web to watch the intruders walk past her territory.

Mere neighborhood blocks had been crossed in the timespan of over an hour. Chopping through a wild forest had made walking a fight to free their pants from branches that didn't want to let go. But the light at the end of the tunnel gleamed, the sun reflecting off the white rocks that stuck out like veins from the dark ones. The forest gave way to a small strip of grasses before turning into rocks that gently descended into the ocean. Birds of all types could now be seen circling around the sky. Herds of pokémon stuck just outside the thick brush. Many turned to look at the new additions before going back to their meals. There wasn't any reason to be afraid. Experience bolstered their confidence.

It was a nice place, Red had to admit. This was the sort of place where only those in the know knew, and those who knew only knew through those who know. He gave a side-eye to Lane, who proudly stuck his chest out against the wilds.

"And this is where I wanted to go! Beautiful, isn't it? Reminds me of, well, a place next to the ocean!" Lane said.

"A place?"

"A place. Any one." Lane stopped posing so he could kick a rock down the slope. It was swallowed by the waters. "I'm not that much of a fan of the ocean. Seen one coast, seen 'em all. So! Any of these guys catch your eye?"

That was something he disagreed with. Such a thick forest ending so abruptly was unique. And the way that the plants seemed to recede into the ground was another. The ocean of multicolored rocks slanting downwards had its own shore of grass, with the afro-shaped bushes exploding out of the veins of dirt kept in check by the grazing pokémon, and the peaks of trees varying in height giving the area a dynamic look. There was also the sheer amount of wild pokémon pacing that made Red's feet remain locked as he tried comprehending the whole scene. The foamy waves seemed to try creeping up with their clawed hands and brush against the water-types sunbathing.

A single Ninetales oversaw Vulpix as the younger pokémon dared each other to get nearer to the waves. Once one of them lost their footing on the slick rocks, they were surrounded by a pink glow that dragged them back to land. No bravado was lost by the fire-type nearly being swept away. They went right back to the game. All of them had a single brilliant white tail. Much too young, Red admitted to himself, and he was afraid of being charred alive if the Ninetales was feeling uppity that day.

A bug with a giant mushroom on its back waddled out of the forest to scare away a group of Venonats that got too close. When they were a proper distance away, it went back into its den of wood and grass. Red didn't like that line of pokémon. They were creepy. There was a rumor back in Pallet Town that their original mayor had been taken over by the same mushroom that infected them.

Primeapes swung from the branches down so they could feast on a bush of oran berries—thankfully very far away. A Dodrio that was relaxing nearby took off with a cacophony of squawks, not willing to deal with a battle at that moment. Red doubted his ability to control the pokémon's violent temper, and knew that extracting one from a group would just escalate into an all-out brawl.

In the center of a mass of yellow, pink, and purple was a single Poliwrath that made gestures like it was telling a story. Most of the crowd didn't seem too interested. They just languidly followed the cool moves that the fully evolved pokémon threw out occasionally as they continued chewing on seaweed and starfish. Only the Pikachu were reacting to the story itself. They gasped along with the twists, and excitedly electrified the air with the turns. The water-types were much too strong to be scared of the little sparkling. It was the final actor in the story who caught his eye. Sticking out of the ocean watching with sparkling eyes was a pokémon so rare that sob stories about their situation would hit the airwaves. Hunting, catching, and the like had thinned out their population. It was one of those things where you just stared at your computer screen wondering what was wrong with people.

"I see that something over there has caught your eye," Lane said. Red thought that he only gave the scene a single glance. "I doubt it's the Slowpoke or Pikachu. So it's either the Shellder, Poliwrath, or Lapras. Poliwrath would be a pretty okay boon to your team. He'd break through steel-types pretty easily."

Red's eyebrow furrowed. "Steel-types?"

"Ah. Right. Kanto education. Don't mind me. What's your gambit? You gonna get yourself a fighting-type?"

It spoke as to how much trust Red had in the other boy that he was hesitant even saying his preference. Only after deciding that it wouldn't hurt did Red speak. "Lapras are very cool. I always wanted them."

"I see, I see. Why don't you go ask that one if you can catch it then?"

"Just seems kind of…lame?" Red looked around at the many evolved pokémon that were relaxing at the shores. "I don't know about getting a Lapras when there's so many powerful pokémon around."

"Do you want one?"

"Well, yeah."

"It's not like you to be so indecisive, hero."

Red agreed with that. So much so that he walked up to the pokémon having a storytime. The Pikachu were much more startled than the others were when he approached, their cheeks coming aglow. Poliwrath didn't even flex. He knew that two humans weren't too much of a problem, and neither was the weird bug-type that was swiping the air.

"Lapras. Would you like to join me? I'm a trainer."

Lane nudged Red's arm. "Show them your pokémon, hero. He'd be more convinced if you had proof you're reliable."

Red obliged, unhooking his most evolved pokémon from his belt. A mighty roar scared the skin off most of the pokémon in the area. All the prey fled down the coast while the predators warily regarded the new top dog in the area. All of a sudden Poliwrath was a little more intimidated.

"Oh, he evolved. Cool," Lane said.

"If you want to be strong, then I can help you. Come with me and we can work to be the strongest in the entire region."

A cry, similar to Lane's whistle, pierced through the whipping wind.

Lane was living the life. Days of pain stretched out past the easy routes, letting him relax against a tree as Red upped the ante on the training. Charizard's snout hadn't poked out until the shore, joining with the others in the training from then on. It was entertaining and practical, giving Lane plenty of time to cope with the various aches that started revolving around each other like a solar system.

Vastly entertaining was underselling it. The growth he was witnessing made him sweat, wondering if there was some kind of performance-enhancing drug that was hidden inside of those innocuous brown pellets that was simply lost when feeding your partner natural salads. Somehow within a single trip the Charizard had evolved. He could shoot fire accurately enough to singe specific branches in a thick forest without charring a single other tree. It was only in flight that the pokémon was faltering, his new gigantic wings giving both of them trouble. Red went through training routines, wing flexes and whatever he could think of, that made his pokémon look ridiculous rather than actually helping.

One night, halfway through the route, Charizard attempted doing late night practice. The volumes of displaced air screeched as they buffeted the ground, waking everyone up. Red made sure that the pokémon was too tired to attempt anything like that again.

Yet focusing on the most dramatic improvement (suddenly the flamethrowers were leaving only shadows behind, making Lane warily keep away from the firing ranges) would be doing a disservice to the rest of the pokémon's work. Eevee had become a genuine fighter during that time, able to run laps around the much slower Wartortle. That didn't make the geysers that carved valleys into the ground any less dangerous, nor the beacons that lit up second suns from the little yellow rat. Lane made sure to avoid those sparring sessions too. The best things were appreciated from a distance.

As for his own training, he made sure to give extra attention to hugging one of his pokémon in his lap; most of the time it was Dunsparce as an apology for the forest. They'd snuggle together, lazily watching as the rest became stronger everyday. Lapras, the newest addition, was simply made to watch in horror as his new teammates revealed themselves to be monsters in the guise of cute critters, until a regimen specially created by Red brought him into the fold too.

So they went on. Another week of walking eventually had them cradled in Fuchsia City, the tip of the south, no poignant nicknames to describe the town tucked away in a somewhat forgotten tip of the region. Red didn't like saying 'forgotten' because there really was no place more forgotten than Pallet Town and he felt as if that'd be betraying his home admitting that.

Making an appointment at the gym was supposed to be a normal affair. He'd walk in and tell them his name, they'd have a slot open for him, then he'd show up at the time they gave. Boom. Nothing special about it. The gym leader being present didn't change much either. It just gave Red a chance to get a better grip on their personality. The steely-gazed man seemed to be reading their movements from the first step in the door.

Then, of course, the gym leader had to recognize the thorn in his side. It wasn't meant to be obvious, but when the poison gym leader stared too long for Red to notice, it became a full on glare. They knew each other. Red wasn't sure what could make the stoic man break out of his ninja glare, but he knew it was most likely from something just as stupid.

Lane gave a peace sign.

They were kicked out of the gym shortly afterwards. At least Red had the opportunity to get scheduled for his gym battle, even if the only thing that he learned about Koga was his strong moral objection to Lane existing. There was a hint of something—salt, he deduced—mixed in with the nippy morning air that made it hard to breath without shivering. Unlike all the other cities, Fuschia was in full force when they entered. No silly guardsmen or Team Rocket had impeded their daily lives. Kids played in the streets and adults were relaxing at public chess tables and the oldest relaxed on porches. That didn't make Red's mood any less sour.

"I don't like you," Red said.

"I don't even get why he looked at me like that. All I asked was for something and he gave it to me. Like, what's the problem with this?"

Lane took out the bomb as if it were a peace offering. Before any passerby could see the wired pipe, Red wrestled it out of the other boy's grip and pushed it behind his jacket. The tiny sun felt like it was burning a hole in his clothes.

"What are you doing?" Red hissed.

"I needed a bomb so I asked if Koga could give me one," Lane said, shrugging. "Don't worry about it. It's not real."

"How do you know that?"

"You really think Koga is the type to give a kid a real bomb? Besides, look at how amateur it looks. There's no way that he has those just laying around." Lane thought for a moment. "Okay, he did come out with that really fast which means it was laying around for some reason, but it's not real."

Red held it out when nobody was looking, opening his jacket while facing the gym to make sure that nobody saw. It looked like they were doing a shady deal.

"Take it!" he hissed.

"Fine, fine. No need to get your undies in a twist," Lane said as he took the bomb. He mimed throwing it like a pokéball. Even Lulu decided this was in bad taste as the smack to the back of his leg was harder than normal.

"No more of that! Since we have a few days, I'd like to look around the town instead of just training like I have with all the previous ones." Red kept his stare even, shoving his hands into his pockets. "That means I'd like it if you didn't run us out of town or something."

"You're acting like I'm a wild animal."

"You are."

Lane stuffed the pipe bomb back into his bag. "Fine, fine. Let's start with the pokémon safari. I'm sure that there'll be a lot of valuable things there. Oh, yes there are. Believe me. The most valuable-est things are there."

It was what he intended to do anyway. Red took out his pokédex to give it another check as they walked. It's not that the device wasn't useful, but that Red himself wasn't in the mindset to really use it. His goal was actually completing the pokédex so the data that it used was more accurate—or something to that effect. As usual, he tuned out the professor when the man was explaining it. Going about like a normal trainer on a journey meant that he didn't try scouring the entirety of Kanto to note down the ecosystem. He wanted to battle!

Finally being on the latter half of his journey had started making him contemplate all the things that he'd skipped over in his rush. The pokédex, for one, which he promised to at least try filling. There were plenty of sights that weren't about pokémon in each of the cities because, despite what the pokéball companies wanted you to believe, there was life outside of pokémon and because, despite what Blue talked behind his back, Red actually had interests outside of pokémon—like botany. He loved trees. Those things were awesome. There were so many trees that he glanced over in favor of going through his journey faster. The complicated, sour taste of regret twisted his tongue. It wasn't meant for a child's mouth.

Lane glanced back at the little piece of plastic. Despite what the technology would imply, the pokédex was far from completed. Many common pokémon were missing whereas others had entire entries. Invented just before Red had started his journey, the device was purported to be able to store data on caught pokémon and analyze wild ones for their typings—that's it. Lane was watching history be made as Red was collecting data that would be used to create a modernized pokédex. For Lane's purposes, the contemporary pokédex was hardly more useful as a door stopper.

The entrance to the safari zone was a quaint little building that had posters plastered on the walls about the pokémon that one could find in the area. Detailed statistics were also listed in a secluded corner of the place; government regulations forced pokéball companies to list the capture rates on their products, especially for the safari balls. A huge number, 95%, bragged that you could easily catch even a healthy Nidoran with six balls. Left underneath it were the chances for other pokémon. At the very bottom was the pitiful 25% catch rate of Kangaskhan. The worst part? That number wasn't for a healthy Kangaskhan. It assumed that it was poisoned and damaged. Lane loved how blatant false advertising was universal.

Standing behind the counter handing out safari balls and passes to the trainers were two very familiar faces. Red didn't recognize them. Neither did they, or they were really good at hiding their reactions, because both pass and balls slid across the counter as if there were no animosity. Lane could immediately recognize the mole underneath the woman's eye and the hooked nose of the man. It made sense how they were running into each other again. After the disastrous arrests from two failed gambits, Team Rocket's numbers had thinned out. Most likely they only had a limited number of people on hand for their operations across the region, but that'd be giving the organization getting dismantled by a kid (prodigy, yet still a kid) some kind of agency rather than knowing they're boneheaded.

"Go ahead," Lane said when Red looked back. "I've got some things to do while you're in there."

"More shopping?" Red asked.

Lane winked. His eyes roamed the ceiling. No cameras. "You know me so well."

Red rolled his eyes, disappearing into the cultivated wilderness past the gate. Lane nudged his head to the loyal pokémon that was following him.

"Keep an eye out. Make sure that nobody interferes with the conversation," Lane said. Lulu lazily saluted.

He walked up to the counter, keeping an easy-going smile. The people didn't recognize him either. In complete fairness to them, he was wearing an entirely different outfit.

"Welcome to the safari zone! Would you like me to explain the rules?" the man asked.

"Sure! I've never been to the safari zone before. My momma says that it's a big, big, big place with lots of pokémon to take home!" Lane said.

The smile that the receptionist had was genuine enough.

"You cannot use your own pokémon while in the safari zone. We'll provide some balls for you to catch to your heart's content within a limited timeframe. Whatever you catch, you keep."

"But sir! How am I to catch pokémon if I can't weaken them with my own pokémon?" Lane asked.

The receptionist lifted a bag and let its uneven weight settle on the counter. "We'll provide you with rocks and bait. Use the rocks to weaken pokémon and the bait to make them unaware of your approach. A pro will be able to easily use most of these by the time they're done with pockets full of new pokémon."

"Wow, wow, wow! I just have one more question! How much money does Team Rocket purloin from the profits made from the safari zone?"

Both the receptionists stared at him. They glanced about the room, realizing that nobody was inside. All of a sudden the faux-friendly atmosphere disappeared as both of them went to their waists.

"We have no idea what you're talking about," the woman said.

"Sure you do. You're Team Rocket. I doubt that you've gone clean since the last time we met. So that means you're currently working as Team Rocket grunts. I think that means this place is another front for them, or maybe you're destroying them from the inside?" Lane made a face like he was thinking hard before shrugging. "It doesn't matter. Either way the outcome is the same. You're going to fleece your pockets and give me everything that you have."

The man scoffed. "Don't be ridiculous. What power do you have? We've already called up security to deal with you. You'll be kicked out like the raving mad lunatic you are."

That was a lie. There was no panic button underneath the counter. They were the security.

"Right. That's nice and all. Let's add another thing into this equation: I can stalk you. I can find out where you sleep. And you know what I'll do when I find out?"

The pipe bomb thumped on the counter. The woman was looking at it, uncomprehending, until the wires properly crossed in her head. She screeched. The man had already been backing away as if Lane were some maniac that would send them all sky high.

"Why does a kid have a bomb!?" the man screamed.

"He's the brat! He's the one that we met back outside Saffron! The one who made us ambush that other kid! How didn't we recognize him!?"

Lane banged the pipe bomb again, getting another scream. "'Made'? I didn't make you do anything. Come on. Empty 'em out. I've got stuff to get later and I need the money."

"We're not giving you anything! Security! Security!"

Lane shrugged, putting the bomb back in his bag. "Alright. I'll be seeing you two tonight."
Both of them tried yelling as he left. Neither were acknowledged. Lurantis was warily glancing around for anybody that could've been listening in, chittering nervously about the whole situation.

After a quick diversion, Lane found a comfy bench to sit on and plopped down. Waiting. Waiting.
It took ten minutes for someone to finally approach. Ten! In that time he could've actually set down the pipe bomb and skedaddled from the city. It had given him plenty of time to prepare, which wouldn't have happened if they'd confronted him immediately. Lurantis was gone so he was just an innocent boy on a bench being accosted by a grumpy old man in a silly outfit.

"And what do you do when I first take my eyes off you? I never should've humored you," Koga said.

Lane tilted his head. "What do you mean?"

Koga chuffed, blowing out his mask slightly. "Sure. Pretend that you've done nothing. Come on up. You're not getting away with this little prank."

Another man came running. Almost at the level to be called portly, his thick sweater looked to be overcompensating. Only the glasses that were half the size of his eyes said that the man had import. Sweat gathered underneath his collar by the time he skidded to a stop just short of ramming into Koga.

"This is the ruffian who threatened Wanda and Iato?" the man said.

"The very same. I was already going to give him a dressing down."

The scene continued to be set. A scandalous affair in the center of town with two of the most important men gathered. Men and women gathered around with questions on their tongues, rumors spread around in real time that shifted the crowd's opinion. It didn't take long before Lane was in the center of an angry mob who were shouting their opinions about things that the issue wasn't even about.

The two clerks walked through the people. Condolences and pats on the back were given to the heroes as they confronted a kid who couldn't even reach over their heads.

"That's him! That's the one!" Wanda yelled.

"What's this even about? I still don't know," Lane said. He pointed at the man in the sweater. "I also don't know you. You seem important—legally. Like you're the one with the money."

The man preened underneath the praise. "I am Mayor Rose. And once Officer Jenny is here, we can talk about revoking whatever privileges you enjoyed before, trainer."

Was 'trainer' some kind of insult? Lane was a little too dull to recognize that.

A tinny horn beckoned the crowd to part, letting the vehicle rumble into the center of the debacle. A woman with teal hair took in the situation as she stepped forwards imperiously. Almost all the actors had gathered. Lane was counting down the seconds before their final one, the pièce de résistance, joined.

Now, while this perhaps isn't the best time, it's prudent to mention that Fuschia is an insulated city even in Kanto's terms. Being put away from the major cities and having nothing else than the ninja's culture that painted the town its own flavor, outsiders weren't known for stopping by very often. Those who came were either delivering something or fighting in the League. The town wasn't small enough for 'everybody to know everybody' but for a definite culture of protecting their own to develop.

Jenny had a dirty little secret: she was from the Johto side of the family. Everytime asked for her opinion of her home city, Celadon, she'd just give her real opinion from the times she'd visited family there for New Years. But it was a lie! A white lie so they wouldn't look at her differently, but a real lie. Goldenrod was her home and police work was her gig that she wanted to do since every Jenny was a police officer (except for her aunt Jenny, who became a painter). After becoming twenty-two she went to the Officer Academy of the Red Feather, founded by a man who had seen Ho-oh and claimed that the bird had given him a vision; in a fit of fever over the next week, he'd write the entirety of the 'Codex Red Feather' which would serve as the basis for the fledgling Johto's law. Red feathers had a lot of symbolism for this reason and was also the reason that she had an inflatable pool float that was shaped like a feather.

It's why she had an unmistakable modern-ness that made her older colleagues uncomfortable. On the front of her motorcycle was a decal of her favorite coordinator, Fantina, doing her iconic pose. This was a fellow outsider of the town. One who'd been blearily reading about the implications of a new ruling from the courts—she was awake later than normal playing horseshoes with her friends—when there was a call from the mayor. She kept repeating the call incredulously since she'd put the phone town.

"Can somebody repeat the claim? What was it? Someone threatened Wanda and Iato with a," she paused again, taking in the absurdity of the situation before continuing, "pipe bomb?"

The crowd gasped in sync.

"You heard it right. Here's your culprit right here," Koga said, pointing at Lane.

The crowd gasped harder in sync.

Jenny looked at the young, innocent, bored-looking kid who was relaxing on a bench. She held up her hand to stall the whispers. She was very annoyed that they had started the impromptu interrogation outside. Theatrics had always unfortunately been Koga's weakness. Now it was either interrogating a child in front of the entire town or taking him in for questioning, thus justifying the absurd claim to all the dullards who were watching.

"Are we sure that it was this boy?" Jenny asked.

"I'm sure," Koga said.

Jenny felt like strangling him. "What do you mean, 'you're sure'? We have Electrodes in the region! Who goes around threatening people with pipe bombs? How did the kid even get a pipe bomb?"

"Does that matter?" Koga asked.

The mayor scratched his unevenly shaved chin. "Well, now that I think about it, that's a good question. Perhaps it's a fake pipe bomb? That would still be illegal since he threatened people with it, but I doubt that someone of his age has the skill to create his own pipe bomb."

"Are you people crazy? He said that he was going to stalk us and use that pipe bomb against us! He showed it to us!" Wanda yelled.

The crowd gasped, again.

"Do we have any witnesses?" Jenny urged.

"Just these two," the mayor said. "They came up yelling something fierce up to my door, yes they did. Called around to tell all of you right after."

"Look, we know Wanda and Iato. We don't know this kid. Are we really going to be trusting his word over theirs? He hasn't even denied it!" Koga yelled, pointing at him.

Lane pointed to himself. "I thought that I wouldn't have to say anything 'cause it's so weird. I don't even have a pipe bomb on me."

"You could've easily gotten rid of it after threatening them," Koga said.

"So he wouldn't get in trouble. Kids like you are the impulsive sort." The mayor nodded along with his own theory. "Yes, that does about do it. Even if it were a fake pipe bomb then it's still a crime to threaten people with it. This goes beyond cruel prank and into the territory of real criminal behavior—like Team Rocket!"

The crowd gasped, again, loudly.

Lane put a finger on his mouth. "Oh, now that you mention it, those guys are Team Rocket. Maybe that's why they're mad at me? 'Cause I helped go in and bust up all their stuff that one time."

The crowd gasped, no longer in sync as the revelation sunk in at different times. Their heads perked up a little too, which made a wave of bobbing heads pulse through the crowd. This time they didn't bother keeping to a whisper, keeping a dull drone of hurried conversation behind the interrogation.

Koga glanced over his shoulder at the pair. "These two Team Rocket? Pah! That's a good joke. They've lived here all their lives."

"Why wait so long to say that these two are Team Rocket? Seems as if you're trying to make excuses for your own behavior, criminal! Jenny, take him away!" the mayor yelled.

She raised her hand, frustrated. Letting a bit of her authoritative voice leak against the mayor wasn't smart even if it felt good.

"This kid was the one who helped destroy Team Rocket's base back in Celadon City. Yes, that's exactly who you are! I knew you looked familiar."

"You're going to accuse Wanda of all people of being Team Rocket?" Koga pointed to the woman. She was attempting to look teary-eyed but just looked nervous. "She's lived here her entire life and has been a staple in the community. There is no way that she'd ever be Team Rocket!"

"Jenny, be careful of what you say here. We're talking about fully grown adults here. A single heroic action being done doesn't make this boy any less of a boy. He's most likely only throwing out accusations to save his own hide," the mayor said.

Finally came the final flourish that would complete the play. Lane started wildly waving his arms, standing on the bench and pointing to make sure there was no chance that his target would escape.

"Oh, hey Red. Come over here! These guys are yelling at me."

Red was just attracted to the commotion like everybody else, and without the blessing of height letting him see over the crowd, he was forced to be much closer than he wanted to be. Red hobbled over with his head slightly down. Doing that let him avoid the incriminating stare from the gym leader he was supposed to fight later.

"Who are you?" Red asked.

Lane pointed at the two who finally recognized Red. "Aren't those the two people you beat up back at Route Eight?"

Red turned around. The only show of surprise was the long blink that he did. "...oh. The Team Rocket Grunts, yeah? Yeah, that's them. Weren't you two at the safari zone?"

The crowd gasped even louder, which is what happens when it grows larger and larger until half of the town's population that wasn't working was witnessing the play. Jenny, finally exasperated, decided that she needed to be a woman of action. The cuffs were broken out as all six of the actors started trying to shout over each other.

"I hate you," Red said from across the stone hallway.

"I hate you too," Wanda said.

"I knew this was a bad idea," Iato groaned.

The last person rattled the bars of their cell. "I didn't get to eat today yet! Can we have a meal?"

No answer. Officer Jenny was across town fiercely interrogating an increasingly nervous Koga about why he thought it was a good idea to give a kid something that looked like a pipe bomb in the first place. On the face of it, the story was the perfect picture of government incompetence. Two community leaders turned out to be a part of Team Rocket. The gym leader gives a kid asking for bombs a lookalike. The mayor very nearly fired Jenny after she interrogated the gym leader too hard. Further investigation revealed that the safari zone had been a Team Rocket front for years and had all the profits going towards further building their criminal empire. The only way that the story could've been worse was yet to come. Journalists were already hard at work trying to find juicy details that would make the story even more absurd. No pipe bombs, fake or not, were found at either of the grunt's homes, which disappointed those that wanted a morally gray story.

Jenny begged with tears in her eyes that night for nothing worse to happen. Yet it was an undoing of her own making that had forced the woman to lay off the books for a long time coming; she'd been having an innocent call with one of her male relatives over in Johto that ended with her complaining of her case. That man, who was a consistent leaker to the press known only as 'Mr. Jenny', just so happened to leak info to a Johto-based newspaper about something going down in Fuschia. What was originally a silent case covered by the local papers had erupted overnight into a full-blown storm that everybody had an opinion on. The mayor and Koga suspected Jenny of the leak and she'd been kicked back to Johto later that week. She resented her new position that made her work more.

In short, there was nobody manning the prison that night as all hands were controlling the fallout. If a thief walked through the front door then he could easily take all the prisoner's pokémon without anybody even knowing—not the pipe bomb, however. Jenny was starting to doubt that it was actually real since it wasn't in any of their packs, nor in their homes, and her Growlithe hadn't sniffed it out inside the town.

Lane started banging a beat on his bed. Then he started whistling a popular pop song that was dominating Kanto's radio stations.

"Ugh. I hate this song," Wanda said.

"I kind of like it," Iato said.

Lane forgot how the chorus went so he made it up.

"Stop butchering this song. I actually like it," Red said.

"You were offbeat there," Iato said.

Red rested his head at the back of his cell. At least the accommodations weren't as horrible as a prison could be. There was a bed that had a mattress which had been recently replaced, a toilet with privacy, and a window that gave them a view outside. With a few additions to the decor it could pass as a room in a cheap pokémon center.

Then he remembered that he was sitting in a cell right next to literal Team Rocket members. Even the whistling wasn't as annoying as that.

Wartortle was easily skirting around the globs of poison that Venonat was firing. It was mystifying to Red that this person could qualify for a gym leader. Three of a single pokémon species were on Koga's team that could've easily been trounced by Charizard working alone. "Misdirection was a valuable strategy," said Koga, or some other, but that didn't work when most of the man's moves could be burned through with overwhelming force.

That felt cheap. Red recognized during the fight in the Pokémon Tower that his other pokémon weren't anywhere near evolving. Surely Wartortle wouldn't have had the fortitude to take out the Team Rocket ambush. Therefore it made sense to spread out his fights more between his team.

"Let's go, Red! Bring it home!"

Red gritted his teeth. And then there was him. The person who wasted most of the time that was supposed to be for relaxing by getting them locked up in prison. All sorts of apologies were slung around when Jenny found the truth, along with the mayor giving both of them expensive TMs, but that wasn't enough for him. All of the time that he was supposed to be relaxing was ruined. It didn't matter if the grunts were locked up and Koga was punished and he was going to get his badge when his free time was being jeopardized.

Koga tried emphasizing his height over the smaller boy, which just made Red snort in derision. He swiped his badge out of the gloved hand and left without looking back. Outside of town he walked. Lane said hello to a ranger they walked by, making the woman do a spit take. He didn't care. He didn't care about the Eevee and the Lapras. All he wanted was that brief time of freedom while walking to the Pokémon Tower.

West of town was a little route that barely could be called one, and hadn't been one until the artificial land bridge was built that jutted out straight into the former bay. It had always been a place of great comfort, having a sense of calm that pervaded even amongst the wild pokémon; it wasn't an uncommon sight to find the pill-shaped Raticates laying in a long line around the coast, mouths hanging open in contentment. Tiny fixtures were added over the years—many which had decades of debate whether it was proper to install a trash can in a purportedly natural place, an argument defeated by the place officially becoming Route 18—that reminded one that just past the few trunks and a checkpoint was a city, big enough that you could hear murmurs like there was a ghost standing behind you.

On bright days it seemed like an idyllic island of peace. The fog bank in the distance watched them. Under the gloomy, filtered light each unpainted splinter stuck out from the white fence that was built as close to the land's edge as they were willing and the rust building on the swiveling parts of the coin-operated binoculars. The dirt path usually making up routes had been smoothed over a whole clearing where bikers freely rode circles before going back over the bridge.

Red led them to where no bikers, picnickers, or tourists would be bothered.

"So what's wrong, hero? You seem to be brooding more than you usually do."

Red turned around with a pokéball already in hand. "Fight me."

"But hero~!"

Red threw out his pokéball. Lane, shrugging in disbelief, threw out his too. Charizard gave an angry roar as Dunsparce wriggled, hoping that he could cover himself in dirt and disappear.

"Charizard, use Flamethrower!" Red yelled.

Lane didn't bother giving a command. Before the pokémon could react, Dunsparce was gone with only a superheated hole to show for. The ranger yelled in the background about respecting the integrity of the routes. Pokémon battles always changed plans. Bikers kicked out their feet around a perimeter as the loiterers decided that pokémon battling was more interesting than seeing the waves lap over each other.

"Fire down the hole!"

Charizard's hefty body landed on the ground with a thud, fire streaming from its nostrils. Coil, strike. The tunnel was filled with heat so intense that an extra few centimeters were shaved off. Before the pokémon could look back for new orders, a rock impacted the bottom of his jaw. His head swung upwards like a boxer threw a haymaker. Spittle sizzling hot dripped down.

"Get off the ground, Charizard!" Red yelled.

The pokémon reacted just in time for the ground beneath it to collapse. Rocks from the cloud of dust followed that were too sudden to dodge. The first impacted with Charizard's wing, causing it to twirl out of flight. The rest flew over the pokémon's head as it tilted down onto the floor. The newly disturbed dirt parted as the massive body sent another cloud of dust flying in the air. It quickly readjusted so that its head was sticking out of the mound.

Popping out from the hole was a shivering pokémon. Without a gesture from his trainer, Dunsparce smashed his body against the ground to create a wave of earth.

But this wasn't the same pokémon that they would've destroyed in a fight from months earlier. What Dunsparce thought was a finishing blow became its own demise as it wasn't prepared to move. Only the dust brightening gave a warning before fire blasted through the brown curtain, strong enough to blow away the rest of the cloud. Dunsparce screeched as he felt like he was being melted. Far back during their first fight, the burn hurt more than the initial attack. Two evolutions had amped up the Flamethrower until the air kept shimmering long after the flames dissipated. Dunsparce was blown onto its back, tilting back and forth to try rubbing dirt against its new burn.

When both trainers could finally see, a tomb was created for the giant lizard. A crater had been created then quickly filled in to only allow the tips of Charizard's nostrils to poke through. Yet even this had enough room for him to perfectly nail Dunsparce in the face. Charizard being recalled caused the ground that he was inside to collapse, only a tiny imperfection the last sign he'd been buried there. The crowd cheered in delight.

Lane recalled his pokémon with a frown. That amount of growth was absurd. His own training had taken months before Lulu was anywhere near battle ready, and he was beginning to realize that his own version of 'battle ready' just meant that his pokémon understood English. None of the raw power was behind any of Dunsparce's attacks which was why it took several rock-type moves to take down a flying/fire-type.

If Red was smart, then he would've noticed that his pokémon evening out the fight in a single hit was absurd. Day by day Red got better. Lane was unsure if he could win if Red gritted his teeth and stuck to fighting. He was banking on Red not being smart and was rewarded with another new figure being revealed.

Wartortle let out a battle cry as he was released. Lulu hit the ground running already.

"Wartortle! Use Water Gun!"

"Sunny Day. Why not," Lane said, faking a disinterested tone.

The heat became scorching. Even the water that spat across the field seemed to dissipate faster before smashing into the timid pokémon's face. Lulu certainly didn't have to fake stoicism. The water didn't even make her blink.

"Ah, hero. You've still got a ways to go. You're not very creative. You're all about power and stuff. If you want it, then here you go. Face the power of the contrarians!" Lane waved his hand in the air. "Lulu! Smack him around a bit and finish the job!"

Lulu started assaulting Wartortle with a barrage of punches. Right, left, pivot on her foot and give them an uppercut, there were so many that collectively did damage rather than any single punch having any power. Wartortle's training made it better at hitting agile opponents, yet what use was that when it only knew normal and water-type moves? Blast of water would miss when she already pivoted to his side. He had to readjust his aim while still firing, which ended up making most attacks overcorrect. The cyclists watching had to duck multiple times to avoid getting splashed with the remnants of a sprinkler.

Those strikes weren't weak for long. Each hit that connected was slightly stronger. Before long, the Wartortle was groaning in discomfort with each solid hit that landed on his shell, until eventually he was stumbling from glancing blows. Red's eyes bulged when his pokémon was turned into an impromptu soccer ball, skidding to a halt in front of him.

"That's enough. Synthesis and finish it."

A green blur passed by Red. He blinked. He turned around. Wartortle had slammed into the fence like he was a boxer, arms wrapped around the tops and head lolling on his shell. Lane was spinning an empty key ring on his finger. Where he got that and why he had it out wasn't on Red's mind as the feeling of defeat sank in.

"I forfeit," Red said. He ignored the cheers that came from the spectators as he knelt down to his fallen pokémon. No marks were left behind. It was as if his pokémon didn't even get out of a battle. He whispered, "so I need to be at champion level to defeat him. There's no way that a single gym badge would help at this point. I've gotten five and he still beats me easily."

Lane came sashaying, whistling the same tune that he butchered in prison for the days they were trapped there. "So, hero, what was the deal with that? Just wanted to see where you stand?"

A glare from a distant boat covered up the flash as Wartortle was back safe in his ball.

"Do you have a bike, Lane?"

"A bike? No."

"Good." Red withdrew the folding bike that he had in his bag. It was amazing technology that they were coming out with in his lifetime. Space technology—some sort of -ology that Red could never remember—had advanced by bounds within his lifetime. First it was invented when he was in school, then they were able to pack all the groceries in a single bag, and that was not advisable since the eggs could randomly be jostled when in there. Some companies took the hint and made items that originally weren't foldable, foldable. That made them break much easier, but Red thought that the tradeoff was worth it. "I'm going down the biking path."

Lane had to compute the sentence for a moment before raising his finger. "Wait, that means we're going to be separated."

"I know."

Red got on his bike and pedaled faster than he ever did before. Within a minute he was pulling onto the bridge, away from Lane's ability to follow him.

It made his lips twitch. The surrounding people started splitting off. Lulu glanced back, quickly running to her trainer when she realized that he was still standing there. Lane stared at the retreating back until it faded into the fog. Slowly the clearing became invisible. His hands were slowly bouncing against his waist.

"He just left? But it was just a joke. A prank. It was…" Nearby, Fomantis poked his head out of a bush. His claws were wrapped around a familiar rod that was thrown into Lane's pack. Lane stomped away, nervously patting down his palms. "He'll be back. We'll see each other again. Come on, Lulu, Fomantis. Um, I guess I'll recall you, Fomantis. Do you want to be on my shoulder? I'll put you on my shoulder. Hehe. Let's go. Let's go. We'll meet him again. Yeah. Yeah."

Chapter Text

Over time they'd gotten used to making their camp in a certain way. Obviously the boys wanted their own corners around the pseudo-campfire—occasionally an actual fire pit that they'd have a pokémon dig out while other times simply a pile of their belongings—yet new accommodations were made, so gradual that Red had woken up one day and recognized how much having another person around changed his schedule. There was a time when he'd sleep near to the center, feeling the need to protect his supplies from any thieves in the night. Humans may have been the culprits he initially expected, though a few unwary nights had proven that pokémon were worse than any professional heister could've been. Flying-types would swoop down and grab his stuff while the tiny normal-types were caught a few times rummaging through his pile for the food. Having another set of eyes has made sleeping vastly more relaxing. Lane, despite having long sacs of drool solidified like a stalagmite, would wake up when any cloth was ruffled.

This extended to the mornings too. Red would sneak out of his sleeping bag, gently nudging off whoever decided to sleep on his chest and wriggle in the least conspicuous way possible. Whenever Wartortle was awake, the surprisingly strong pokémon would drag him out. Now freed without waking up his companion, he'd begin his morning routine. Brush, some sort of warm up exercise, watch the sunrise if he was lucky, absorb another day with its full splendor, and then start with the actual preparations. Walking all day was tough! Sorting out all his stuff was necessary preparation if you wanted to keep a constant pace. Stretches of all sorts that his mom taught him loosened up his bones until he was limber. The next step was making sure that snacks and water were taken out, and only the amount to stave off hunger rather than make him feel sluggish.

It's about then that Red realized there was a missing spot in their camp. You could really divide it between four things: Red, Lane, their belongings, and the pokémon sleeping in various positions that made them comfortable. It was eye-opening in various ways, seeing your partner in their most vulnerable position. Charizard had taken to the habit of sleeping with anything over his head, begrudgingly finding a pit when none were available. Lulu would sleep next to her trainer depending if she wanted to be hugged in the middle of the night, switched to and fro by the restless sleeper. Wartortle slept on his belly which looked plain uncomfortable, in Red's opinion. There'd only be a fresh mound of dirt from a freshly dug hole where Dunsparce disappeared to.

Either way, there was a gigantic missing silhouette. It may have been the fourth most important thing in their camp, but Red wasn't looking forward to slumming around for groundwater of questionable health. Weakly kicking the boy in his gut had him sputtering, shooting up with his hands chopping at the air. Slurred words meant to be threatening spilled out of his loose lips until the world stopped being so blurry.

Lane looked up to Red—bloodshot.

"Our stuff is gone," Red said.

Lane blinked blearily, watching as dawn's sky swallowed Red whole. "Lane? Who?"

"You."

Dry smacking woke him up, each wave of saliva feeling as though it were running down calcified canyons. Lane's hands ran down his chest and then patted his pockets. During this process the pokémon started waking up. Only one side of their camp was acting shocked.

The eyes suddenly became lucid. Mischievousness flooded in as the neurons started piecing everything together. "Me! Yes, my name is Lane! Our stuff is gone? Oh no! I wonder where it could've gone to? Why didn't I wake up? Usually I'm so good at waking up!"

Red was waiting. Lulu had picked up the little one, cradling it to her chest while it nuzzled deeper inside.

"If we don't have our supplies then we'll have to backtrack! Oh, that'll suck. The adventure's nice 'n' all, but it doesn't feel nice having to walk back across the entire continent just so we can make sure everyone has food." Lane's face had been slowly turning red, until it started spilling out in gut-clenching laughter. Nobody else was amused. "Ah, it's no fun if you don't have a reaction. I won't drag this on anymore—April Fools!"

The laughter slowly dimmed into chuckling, until those chuckles became awkward as he realized that Red kept the same stoic stare through the whole debacle.

"Um, April Fools? I know that it's probably not April. I don't have a phone. Is it April?"

Red shrugged.

"It feels like April. And I probably missed April Fools, so…" he trailed off, now using the sleeping bag as cover from the pernicious stare.

"I don't know what that is."

That made Lane leap up, shedding the sleeping bag so he could be bracing against the morning wind without a shirt. "It's my second favorite holiday! You're supposed to do a prank! A bunch of people are in on it and the best part is when there's people that forget about it and they think that what's happening is real but it's not! I love it!"

"Never heard of it." Red had never seen Lane deflate so much. "How is it different from what you normally do?"

"Hm?"

"The lying, I mean. That's what a prank is, unless you're thinking of a pin under my sleeping bag as a prank. This whole thing was just an elaborate lie. What makes that different from what you normally do?"

"Because—it's more elaborate than—" Lane realized that this wasn't his most elaborate scheme. "It's also—" Whatever argument shredded itself into nothingness before it fully formed. "I—"

Red was starting to feel bad. It was the first time that he'd seen Lane sad. "It was a good attempt. I noticed that you seemed drowsier than normal and that your pokémon had no reaction."

Lane went to pick up the supplies that were hidden in a nearby bush and sulked the rest of the day. Red somewhat appreciated the quiet.

Chapter Text

It sometimes felt to Lane like he was the only one who liked traveling since he was constantly around fuddy duddies, like Lurantis who got seasick and couldn't keep him company during the trip. Then there's Dunsparce who was afraid of his own shadow, not even mentioning other beings' shadows ('being' is the operative word since Dunsparce had been scared by inanimate objects too). Fomantis had the same problem as Lulu, his youth making him barf on the deck before being recalled. Lane wondered if it was an evolutionary thing in the line and decided that he would experiment later with another Lurantis.

The boat ride was especially boring because he was on a normal ferry that gave people rides over to Cinnabar every week. It just felt lame. There were pokémon all over the world and people chose the lamest options to move around. Airplanes were nice the first time, but Lane couldn't forget the first memory of the high winds snaking through his clothes and air pressure slowly decompressing his organs—true flight instead of relying on a metal engine. Sudden rockings, turbulence if that even applied in the ocean, weren't anything special either. Everytime it was a group of friendly pokémon who knew that tourists loved throwing food in the ocean. Lane was almost hoping that Team Rocket had planted a bomb on the ship just to add some flavor.

Still, he looked forward to the destination. The destination was always more important than the trip or where you came from.

When they finally got on solid land, Lane wasted no time in getting his pokémon out. Lulu cleaned her head off with its blades, Fomantis splayed out in bliss from the sunlight and Dunsparce shivered at being released in yet another unfamiliar area. The tiny island had a homey quality to it with how little land there was and the homes being built without regard for any planning—diagonal, backsides facing each other, etcetera. Quaint, if Lane had to give it a singular word. That quaint-ness was traded for public utilities. No drinkable water, no bathrooms, no air conditioning or shade, and Lane wasn't about to reveal his grand plans in a crowded place like the pokémon center just so he could sit on a bench.

So the pokémon sat on the mushy sandbar that disappeared during high tide, little military men hardly standing at attention as the general paced. Those little military men were having trouble keeping their focus on the play act. Hup one two, hup one two. His knees hiked up with each step.

"Alright recruits! Here's the itinerary before we meet Red again: we need to find three Lapras, get another bomb, get another makeover, and get a lawn chair." Lane paused with his knee in the air before gently putting it down. "Also we should maybe treat people a little nicer if we're going to continue traveling. While it's fine that Red wanted to go his own way for a bit, it kind of leaves us with nothing to do. I've already seen all of the region and it's pretty boring. The bad guys are practically beat. So we're kind of strapped for stuff to do. Well, that's not true. It's a whole region. There's always things to do but…"

Lane glanced down at his pokémon. Even Fomantis had stopped enjoying existence to give him a pointed look. Lurantis' arms were crossed as the pokémon was trying to tilt its head as far as it could possibly bend.

"I was a little too mean. To be fair, Red's also kind of a rigid guy, so my kind of—" His leg was poked by Lurantis. "Yeah, I'll stop making excuses. It's all on me. I'm the worst."

Lurantis nearly nicked his pants.

"Okay, okay, I won't be sarcastic. I could've handled everything better and now we're ditched. I could've—ugh. I don't want to linger on that for too long. It makes me feel weird. And maybe it was messed up what I did in the last town, exploiting that I have enough strength and intelligence while looking vulnerable to pull off pranks like that. Can I say that was a pretty good prank, logistically speaking though?" Lane twirled around for his pokémon. Dunsparce was nodding along while Lurantis rolled her eyes. "I'm like a Victreebel. Get 'em close and bam! But, ehehe, maybe I want to be a little less of a Victreebel. I don't know what I want to be. Uh…"

There was a pause to let the buzzing of morning subside before Lane continued.

"By the by, have any of you noticed something sinister? Like that this place isn't like it should be?"

Dunsparce froze into a perfect statue impression while Lulu let her ear swivel. There was no evidence that the fellow tourists on their boat had even disembarked. None of them had been paying attention to where their fellow travelers, two men, had gone. No sound was present other than the water chipping away the land. It was like the island had been abandoned. Hanging between a building and the pokémon center, a clothesline shifted in the breeze, the mild colored cloths swaying without a care of the spectators. A few trees could hardly become a forest though it was the closest approximation to the bunches that covered the other half of the island. Slowly, then suddenly, it rose to a volcano. Between the volcano and ports was the island's sole claim to fame: an abandoned mansion stood as the second highest structure, 'abandoned' in the sense that there was a little more dust built on the windows than appropriate.

It was empty. It was silent. It wasn't a town of action, but the complete lack of action had the hairs bristle on Lane's arms. He looked at the boat that was still in harbor. Even the sailors had gone somewhere. The port let out a lonely creak as the group retreated towards the nearest building.

Lane pressed his back against the wall. Fomantis was retrieved while Dunsparce and Lurantis kept watch at each of the building's corners. Just so he wasn't one of those guys, Lane made sure to check the rooftop—nobody there. Looking in around the doorstep showed signs of habituation. The water had been left on so the soil in the bed of flowers was clumping together. Back on his wall was a slightly cloudy glass of the window revealing nothing from his vantage point other than the cabinet of the kitchen next to it.

Dunsparce's muscled body didn't let Lane's hands sink into it. The pokémon was carefully lifted up until his eyes poked over the sill. Only the kitchen and some part of the hallway from the front door were visible. Going together with the dreamlike emptiness was a thick cloud of what looked like dust floating around the room. Details inside were lost as the fuzzy cloud clung to the air. A shadow elongated in the hallway.

Dunsparce hopped down from his trainer's grasp. His drill gestured at the door. Pebbles started floating around him.

"No," Lane whispered. He didn't want to be responsible if he jumped the gun and injured an innocent person. "Let's go around the back."

He ducked underneath the window and waddled through. It gave him the opportunity to see that something was lined underneath the window though, missed on the first glance. Nabbing a piece and pulling made it resist like taffy until it suddenly had no more give. Each knead made it squeak. The black main body had a shape like a long, tiny body pillow. Its squishy body and slight friction that his fingers generated against it gave him plenty of ideas how it could be used. He could imagine that it would be perfect for being a door stopper or making something have more grip than it'd otherwise have. What didn't make sense was why it coated the outside.

They took notes of all the details as they walked around its circumference. The building was a completely normal four-walled house with the same design that a kindergartener's blueprints would make, with the yellow crayon sun and singular tree that stretched its claws over the roof. There was a window that peered into a room with bookcases and a desk. It was so opaque that the wall opposite turned purple.

Lane tested the window in the back. Surprisingly, it lifted without protest. A puff of the dust hit his face, stinging his eyes and making his mouth question why it existed. Ducking underneath prevented any more from getting on him but the initial damage wasn't going away. Hand in hand was an alarming feeling like he was getting drowsy when his heart was trying to beat faster. Lurantis was chittering nervously as his hands futilely tried rubbing them out of his eyes. Little pebbles felt like they were rolling around back there, with the added property of stubbornly sticking when he rolled his eyes. There was a vivid memory of getting some of the spores during Red's fight breathed into his nostrils during the grass gym. It felt like a ball of spikes had lodged into the bridge of his nose and made him keep sneezing until he poured a water bottle down there.

"This is sleep powder," Lane said confidently. Getting those words out felt like his throat was being scratched from both the inside and outside. "Lulu, close the window."

With a piggyback from her trainer, she reached up to silently shut the window. The thick cloud of spores drifted out from the opening. They didn't do much other than clinging to her skin in droplets of purple. Her ear twitched. She shook the clinging spores like a dog would, sending an explosion of them into the air.

Lane waited until his eyes stopped feeling so horrible before reorienting himself. Whatever was inside the house hadn't left yet. If they heard the tampering then they hadn't made it obvious.

Looking around the small town from the corner of the house, he counted all the places that the perpetrators could be inside. Unless wild pokémon organized to form a coordinated attack on the town, it was hard to imagine a human not being behind the attack. Lane thought the scenarios through: everything was cleanly organized so the tourists didn't suspect a thing and most likely walked into one of the spored buildings.

The only problem he had with that was the inconsistency of such a strategy. Take the pokémon center, which is where the tourists most likely stopped first: the sliding door would open to reveal the spores inside, bodies of sleeping people, and would be unpleasant to walk through because of the sheer concentration of sleep powder. There must've been some method other than hoping the victims were dumb, Lane thought.

With a new goal in mind, the pokémon followed their trainer as he carefully walked back to the pokémon center. The sliding door was transparent. He looked around the room as far as possible without triggering the door's sensor.

Nobody was inside. No nurse and no Chansey. Lane squinted for better details and could see the opposite wall pretty clearly. That meant no spores were floating around either. Technically there wouldn't have to be a nurse manning the counter at all times—especially in a town with the population of a shopping mall. Being on an island with a gym was the only way it was validated to have an existence on maps, after all. He wasn't taking any chances though.

"Lulu. Go inside."

Snapping a sharp salute, Lurantis edged forwards. Motors whirred to life. The machine working sounded like grinding nails against a chalkboard in the dead silence. She crept down to take as little space as possible as she stuck her head past the doorway. Her body going limp made her companions nearly yell in shock. Lane acted fast, picking up Dunsparce and running to the nearest wall. His back pressed up against it just as his wounds flared up again; the consequences of the active life of a trainer. Even if he'd practically forgotten nearly becoming bird food, his body obstinately reminded him days later.

The crooked nose poked through the doorway first. Then came the yellow head that swiveled, looking for where the new pokémon came from. Lane took out his bag to look through it. Unlike Red's infinite (not infinite, just very large) bag, his was a mundane one that almost had normal, euclidean dimensions—'almost'. It acted like it had an extra few inches of space in every direction, much less impressive than the higher-end stuff.

"Of course I packed barely any medicine," he mumbled. Dunsparce shuddered underneath him. "Whatever is there right now, it's something that can put things to sleep without the powder. That's how they were able to put everyone to sleep in the pokémon center so quietly. I mean, if the Chansey was more competent, then it should've been able to heal everyone, but c'est la vie, eh? What does that mean again? Wine? Meh."

Dunsparce was too busy shivering to pay attention. He slung the bag back on and glanced around the corner. Hypno was coincidentally looking the other way.

Lane clicked his tongue as he pulled back. "No way to take him out quietly with just you. I'd use Yawn if Hypno didn't have Insomnia. What a pain."

Dunsparce glanced around the corner just as the Hypno turned around. Thankfully, Dunsparce's haywire instincts caused it to easily pull back within the split second.

"Here's the plan: we visit the store for medicine. If it's also spored up then…" Lane shrugged, slinging the bag back on. "We may have to fight alone. You good with that?"

Shaking his head wildly, Dunsparce made sure that he was as vehement as possible. His brain hurt with how much he was shaking.

"Well you're gonna have to. Otherwise we're going deal with all this blegh stuff and be blegh'd ourselves. Y'know. Like kidnapping or whatever they're doing here. Honestly, what kind of idiots put an entire town to sleep? This scale of crime is just tacky." Lane paused, lightly banging the back of his head on the wall. "Anymore than occupying a national landmark or taking over an entire corporation's headquarters? Hm. Maybe the criminals around here just like showboating."

It took a few seconds before Dunsparce realized that his trainer was walking. Hypno had stalked back into the building which gave them free reign to travel again. He waddled along with a cry that was supposed to contain all his grievances with the current situation. Lane took it as a battle cry but didn't appreciate the loud noise when they were sneaking.

They took the longest route around the island rather than walking directly to the shop. From a different angle, he could see that Lulu's body had disappeared. Explained why the tourists went missing.

Thankfully they weren't caught by the Hypno or its colleagues when they approached the front of the shop. On the other hand, there was the familiar paranoia that came as they approached the sliding doors. It was just as likely for there to be a Hypno inside as the pokémon center, for there to be a pair of eyes following the idiot kid walking crouched as if that'd make him harder to see. Lane clicked his tongue in annoyance as he did a circle around the building to confirm that there was not a second entrance built in. Employees just hauled shipments through the front door, making it less efficient than the game corner that was built by literal criminals. A glance at Dunsparce made an idea come to mind.

"We're not going through the front door. It's going to be messy, but I need you to dig into the back rooms of here," Lane whispered, kneeling down to rub his pokémon's head. "Keep it as quiet as possible and get some awakenings while you're in there. You remember how they look, right? It's the blue liquid in a canister, or a blue canister with a liquid. Whatever. Can you do that for me?"

For once Dunsparce didn't look as if the entire world was being brought down to bear onto him. Avoiding combat was practically his species' purpose. The ground kicked up into clumps when his tail spun, letting him easily submerge. Because it was a biological process, the sound of the tail whirring fast enough to pierce ground was negligible and faded quickly. Harder bits of dirt and rocks both still made enough noise for Lane to nervously glance around.

It didn't take very long for him to come back with awakenings in his mouth. The medicine felt a little slimy, unavoidable with any pokémon that carried things in their mouths, but it was what he asked for. They ran back to the pokémon center, Lane talking as they moved.

"Let's repeat the same strategy. When you're inside, peek out to make sure that there's no Hypno inside, and then peek out from the back room. If you don't see him, then walk out the door. If you see him, don't fight and come back out so that I know he's blocking us."

He waited on the same wall that they hid behind. Fingers rapped on the wall at a steady rhythm. Lane could swear that he heard voices talking loudly from one of the houses and couldn't tell if that was from the stress. There was a hole next to his foot, fresh dirt kicked onto his shoes.

"Always surprising how easy it is to go around society stuff even with a normal pokémon," Lane mumbled. Dunsparce poked his head out and squawked. "Guessing that means the Hypno is still in there. Don't worry. I have a plan. Go back in and hang around the counter. Wait until the sliding door opens, and you'll distract Hypno by using Rock Throw. While he's distracted, I'll run in and revive Lurantis. This'll probably attract the attention of whoever else is in the town, so be ready for a longer fight."

Thankfully he wasn't completely bereft of useful materials, like a plastic bag that crinkled as his fingers sank into the material. It had been from his little fashion spree back in Saffron. Everything that he had, even the junk, generally was kept in his bag waiting for a second life to be found. Sometimes he needed to do a spring cleaning by upturning it over a trash can and other times he felt vindicated like when his weapon crinkled in his grip.

There wasn't really a great tell for when his pokémon would be prepared. All that he could do was stand in front of the door and wait. Wait long enough to make absolutely sure that Dunsparce was in position. Don't wait too long or Dunsparce would lose his nerve. Wait long enough to control his hammering his heart. Swallow to make sure that he didn't choke when stressing out. Remember to breathe.

The sliding door opened just a bit too slow for Lane's liking. Staying at the door for just an extra second made sure he didn't mess up the plan by falling asleep himself. He heard the sound of a face crumpling from the power of a thrown rock and ran inside. The Hypno was recovering from the surprise attack, focused on the Dunsparce that had already gotten another rock ready to throw. It was able to dodge the attack, robbing his attention from the tiny figure that dashed across the room. Hypno weren't the tallest pokémon of the bunch and were further diminished by their hunch. Even then, Hans would have to reach to pat its head. The table that was behind the pokémon was used as a vault. He imagined himself as the tallest of men, ball in hand, reaching forwards for a slam dunk in front of a cheering crowd as he soared.

His hands descended with the same force as a professional player, the bag having enough give that he bounced upwards with a jolt. Hypno let out a startled cry as its vision was covered. The third rock hit straight onto its body, sending him stumbling until he tripped on the same table. Lane was now thoroughly uninvested in the battle and the yellow hands that were torn between clawing at the bag or defending itself, instead focusing on the pile of people and pokémon that were in the corner. The Hypno was a professional. It moved all its victims away from the transparent door so they couldn't be seen. Lulu rested soundly on Nurse Joy's chest who was in turn in an uncomfortable arch from laying on her Chansey.

A continuous spray of the awakening on Lulu's mouth made her eyes snap open. Lane never understood the medicines. He always sprayed it on their faces since it made sense for it only to work when ingested but Lulu's mouth was closed when he sprayed it. Did their skins absorb it? He was too absent-minded to pay attention as Lulu joined the fight with the fury of a tricked pokémon. Ignoring the sounds of a body getting slammed into the ground repeatedly, he read the label.

"Not recommended for humans."

He shrugged, spraying it on Nurse Joy's mouth. It took the entire bottle to be emptied before her eyes fluttered open.

"Gah!" Nurse Joy awoke with a start. Lane considered that maybe he should've checked the ingredients list before using pokémon medicine for humans. 'Lizxoxacscene' and 'Oparezmarole' as primary ingredients with 'this makes human spleens explode' as a lesser one. "Where…"

"Calm down, ma'am. Doing my work here, ma'am. Your back okay, ma'am?"

She stood up, stretching. "Now that you mention it, it feels like I slept on a rock."

Chansey was definitely more doughy than a rock. He knew from pressing his hands against her as he applied the last drops. Pushing the ball aside revealed one last person who'd been at the bottom of the pile. Lane winced at the camera with a cracked lens that laid around the tourist's neck, balanced on his Hawaiian shirt.

The front door finally opened when the hostages were wide awake. They wore normal clothes, jeans and shirts, and a gas mask which may have been the fashion of the area. Team Rocket had been the most likely culprits on his list and they never walked around without their dorky outfits, making Lane feel that these were either the elite human capital of the group or that this ambush was a little more serious than he treated it. The trio spread into a formation to face the entirety of the room as each of their Oddish waddled in front of their trainers.

Gas masks were ripped off. Whatever the reason, Lane found them more intimidating when he couldn't see their dorky faces.

"You! How did you get out of our trap?"

Lane pointed to himself. "Moi? I accidentally found it. Thought about making a trap that doesn't suck?"

The tallest of the bunch stepped forwards with a pokéball rolling around in his hand. "It's not as if this matters. We put the town to sleep so there'd be no help you could turn to. Even the loss of a single Hypno doesn't matter, nor that you've managed to wake people without combat-capable pokémon. Come with us now or else."

"Else what?" Lane tilted his head. "I'm not very imaginative. You're going to have to make a real threat here."

"Come on, kid. We don't want to do this, but you've toyed with the wrong people," the woman said.

"So you're part of an organization? Team Rocket?"

"You've offended someone and they want to make you pay!" the youngest one there said, who was supposed to be in school rather than terrorizing a town. "This knocks two Pidgey with one stone! We'll take you and force the brat who's been destroying our bases to back off!"

The tallest one grinned cruelly. "Exactly. One person will get his revenge while Team Rocket benefits. We know your name, Lane, and we know that you've been around Red during his exploits. You're a leech, an add-on, and your weakness will be his downfall."

Lane dug into his ear with his pinky, feeling if there was a tiny pokémon whispering lies to him inside there.

"I'm sorry, what?" Lane asked.

"Don't act like everybody doesn't know! You don't fight while he does! You're nothing more than a hanger on!" the youngest yelled.

Lane looked to the nurse for some kind of confirmation. She was too terrified of the group to even move.

"No, this still doesn't make any sense. I—" Lane shrugged uselessly, looking over to Lulu. "I'm sorry. I've lost any ability to have respect for any of you. You're all criminals, sure, but I don't really care either way with that. Even kidnapping me ain't any biggie. But you're, like, wrong. You're just wrong. You're so wrong that it makes all of you look really stupid. Yeah. That's the issue. All of you look like you're idiots now. If there's one thing that I don't respect, it's people that are this big of idiots."

"Thrash around all you want. It doesn't matter," the oldest one said, waving his hand dismissively.

Just to make sure he wasn't going crazy, Lane took a closer look at all the pokémon who were gathered. Lurantis' coat shined. Underneath even the artificial lighting inside she was still a beacon of pink that stood out from the faux-colors of the pokémon center. No amount of comforting psychology could stand out from the power of a well-kept garden. Dunsparce, though shaking, had easily stalled his opponent without any orders from Lane. Compared to the poor little grass-types who lacked luster, confidence, any signs of development, it would take a fool to think that both were comparable.

They genuinely compared his adorable, angelic Lulu to their weeds.

Lane's eyes narrowed. "Okay, you've gone and poked my pride. Good job. I'm rarely angry but you've done it. I can tell that you're pure idiots. The only reason that I haven't swept all your pokémon is that I'm giving you a few seconds to give up the stupid thing where you're filling up the room with spores. I can see the things stuffed in your nostrils, idiots. I'm going to steal those when you're beaten, along with your gas masks, maybe your money, and probably also dunk you in salt water for good measure."

Already the spores were forming a translucent layer of purple that shaded the light coming in. None of them had a comeback for that, which made Lane roll his eyes and decide to finish it.

"Lurantis. Superpower."

All the non trainers huddled in the corner with wide eyes as leaves, poison, and rocks flew around the room. That only lasted a scant few seconds before all three of the Oddish were tossed out through the front door. He felt a little bad for the sliding door that splintered straight down the center. Plastic. Not glass. Glass in a pokémon-oriented building was asking for a problem to happen.

Whatever the case, it should've been bulkier in anticipation for a fight. He loved Lulu, but she was not a powerhouse in strength without enacting their strategy (of which Lane had been trying to tag a name onto it—The Bunker Buster, Superman, Punch a Hole Through 'Em, The Pokémon Killer, Eightfold Punch—without any success). Whatever facsimile that let her punch through a pokémon's steel chassis didn't translate to being a planet-buster.

It took that one minute exchange for the grunts to realize that they had miscalculated. More pokéballs came from wherever they stored them.

The real problem that came with the fight was just how tedious it was. None of their pokémon were particularly well trained, a deficiency that didn't matter when each of them had a full team and were unwilling to give up. Compounding that was the town's store had been raided too. Lane's opinion of them had risen as they swapped out pokémon to use revives on the ones that he had previously knocked out. Normally he'd imagine that such a strategy would be unbeatable with enough items, though his original assumption of them being simpletons was on the mark. If they weren't, then he wouldn't be standing over their handcuffed bodies next to the biggest authority of the island thirty minutes later.

Plastic crunched under his shoe. Once again, he threw a guilty look back at the front door.

"And I hadn't heard a thing back at the gym. Of course they didn't bother coming for me. Nobody ever comes to visit ol' Blaine," Blaine grumbled.

Lane liked the old man. He wore a lab coat casually (which was awesome) and was bald. The island was also a dormant volcano which made the gym an evil volcano base (which was also awesome). The man was also super pragmatic. Came with handcuffs, pokémon, and documentation that he was already filling out on the criminal's arrests. He wasn't the judge, jury, and executioner; he was the police, investigator, judge, jury, executioner, and lawmaker all wrapped into a power package of an old man. At least this was how Lane saw him. It was so admirable that Lane almost wanted to definitively say that's how he wanted to grow up, without the balding ideally even if he could somewhat remember that both his grandfathers may have been bald.

It was a nice sight with the three of them sitting with their backs to each other. To Lane's mirth, the town being awake didn't do much for the traffic. The people of Cinnabar Island much preferred a lackadaisical lifestyle on their whole tiny square footage of civilized land. Nobody seemed to care that the culprits were being interrogated on the rockiest part they could sit them on. Some were working on their laundry while others lounged on their porches, uncaring of time. Lane almost envied them, but being active was fun. Fun was looking back on things that he did and remembering, 'oh yeah, that happened'.

Blaine folded back the page on top of his clipboard to read a pink paper underneath. "Right. So we're dealing with residents of Fuschia who are most likely members of Team Rocket. They have a squeaky clean history before this. None of their pokémon are registered. Pretty typical overall, I'd say."

"Fuschia seems to have a lot of Team Rocket people," Lane said, putting a finger to his mouth.

"Every city has Team Rocket. They don't get to the level of infamy that they did without having the numbers," Blaine said. His mustache twitched as he looked around the city. "Most cities have Team Rocket. I believe that we have the pleasure of being the only city in the entire region without having a single resident being part of that group."

Lane accepted the argument easily enough. The story fit. Some people were mad that friends of theirs in the organization were jailed because of him. They learn the barest minimum of information about him, somehow suss out that he'd be in Cinnabar next, and then spring a trap. Good thing some sort of town pride had them using poison-types rather than stocking up on more Hypnos, otherwise he'd be sleeping with the fishes.

"Why aren't you the one destroying Team Rocket's bases if your pokémon are that strong?" the woman groused.

"Because it'd ruin Lulu's coat. I have priorities, you know." He pressed his finger against the paler pink that was still recovering. His pokémon was sitting down, enjoying the sun like her youngest. "You see this?"

"No."

"It's where she was hit by a Sludge Bomb against a strong trainer. This isn't going to recover properly until I bring her back home where we can give her an involved treatment. It's going to require good water and nutrients for it to return to its luster," Lane said.

Blaine chuckled, signing all the papers to finish the work. "You're a hoot, you know that? I'd be insulted if I lost to you after you said that."

"Good thing I'm not doing the gym circuit, else you'd learn humility." Lane opened his hands right after. "Kidding! If Dunsparce gets taken out, then I don't have any way to beat you. Lulu is strong but she isn't able to beat an entire team that is super effective against her, especially when the pokémon are a whole level above her."

"You were talking about her luster? Is she perhaps like a Venusaur?"

Lane's brow furrowed. "What about it?"

"Ah, it's not very well known, but Venusaur have quite the gap in appearance between those who are taken care of properly. One of the most important things is for it to get nine hours of direct sunlight every day. Water is important too, but the sun is required for the pokémon to enjoy a healthy life. You can tell with the flowers on their backs more than anything. Those who were taken care of during their youth have larger flowers, and depending on their current care then the petals are either firm or brittle. Those who are cared for by inferior trainers have their flowers constantly chipping off," Blaine said.

"Interesting. That reminds me of Sunflora." Lane tilted his head slightly, amused at Blaine's naked interest. "Oh, does the pokémon care about heat?"

"I've heard that the harshness of the desert doesn't work well with it."

"The same thing with Lulu. A Lurantis can't take extreme dry heats without losing some of their color. The color itself has something to do with a chemical reaction the pokémon does only when they have enough resources to do so, I think. It's a bit interesting, isn't it? No reason to do so other than their own beauty, though I guess it would also be a mating thing for them. Y'know, the brighter they are, shows the more food and better shelter they're able to scrounge," Lane said.

The man adjusted his glasses to get a better look at Lane. "Hm. Why haven't I heard of you? A good foreign trainer who takes good care of his pokémon's appearance and understands the principles of pokémon biology is rare around these parts. Would you mind if I picked your brain for some quiz questions on foreign pokémon?"

Fact number one: Blaine's gym was made up of factoids you had to answer to progress. Fact number two: Lane had a lot of knowledge about foreign pokémon. Fact number three: even if he understood, Lane was still miffed about being left behind.

"I would be honored, sir."

It was beautiful, the expanse that stretched in front of him and cupped the little pocket of dirt inside the creases of its hands gently and held them close to its chest, even his nature-cranky self could admit. There was a whole 'nother world that laid beneath the ocean's face. He put his chin on his knuckles to bring forth information that he'd never studied, or at least never remembered studying.

Octillery. Sniper, one of its abilities. All of the abilities? Suction cups, Sniper, Moody. The eggs were made of water. If you shook them around, then you could hear the water sloshing around inside and do not under any circumstance do that. Pokémon only became hardy when they reached adulthood, and there was an adulthood even during the first evolution. 62.8 pounds exactly. With Kanto being right next to Johto, there have always been Octillery who can be found even if the locals only knew of their existence after communicating with the people from Johto. Why? Recall a cliff that fell into the ocean. Most of Kanto's waters were notoriously deep, not being even close to fully explored even right next to the bay.

"The world is round," Lane said.

Blaine looked up from his work. The two had taken a break on the rocks behind the mansion; even a homebody like Blaine got tired of being inside of his house. Fresh juices grinded from his personal garden laid still inside plastic cups that refracted triangles on the flat rocks they used as tables. Older women were chatting in front of the only house Lane could see from their position. A Meowth sank into the hand of his owner as she, pastel pink dress with floral designs wrapping around their hems, started laughing. At their feet were two Psyduck who kept butting heads.

"Indeed it is," Blaine said. "How was this discovered?"

His legs were hiked up onto the rock, sitting on it with his arms wrapped around his knees. Lulu had Fomantis in her lap, dozing off with her back against a warm rock while the little one melted into her lap. There was a little hovel dug into the side of the island where his other pokémon was resting. Blaine had chosen a rather low tech solution for doing high tech paperwork, having all of them laid out on a long, oval-ish rock that had a flat surface. He was sitting on a normal chair; that's just how things worked out when you got older.

Lane put his mind to the question. How. How. How. The wheels spun and spun as the horse was let inside, millions of men packed away in its butt ready to leap out with their spears aimed at the men's throats; Lane supposed that it would be recreated with people inside of a Mudsdale's dreads being let inside of a Kanto castle. No, that's a whole different story. It'd be a creaky old plank of wood, drifting around all the cool capes of the world before coming back home. From what he remembered, only a single crewmate made the whole journey. Not exactly a child-friendly bedtime story.

"No idea!"

Blaine tutted, setting his documents into a neat pile. "You truly are some kind of savant. You can list facts that I'm foggy on yet can barely tie your shoes."

"That's a li'l bit of a fairy tale retelling, m'sir. I'm proficient at the young man's bundle, yes I am."

"That's not a knot," Blaine simply said. He made the motions in the air. What Lane was referring to was crossing the threads over, moving on underneath where they crossed, then pulling. "It is not a knot."

"If you say so. You done?"

"Are you done?"

Blaine continued staring as Lane leaned further and further back. When he was laying straight down like a model, he finally rolled his eyes.

"Are you done?"

"I am!"

The documents were shoved inside a red binder, official looking, not like the type that you got from the office supplier store. Wealth showed itself in the most peculiar of ways. Households could be rundown mansions on islands with a population of 46 yet the glasses had to have little details that he couldn't name while making them clearly more quality than the peasant's methods of drinking water. Smudges of the dirt that had gotten on the back of the paperwork made Lane grin.

His pokémon didn't follow as they started walking across the island, underneath the shadow of the mansion. It was a ginormous thing, trying to rival the volcano that was barely a mile away. Hubris, Lane thought, that would be punished in the coming years.

"Why do you even have so much paperwork anyways? No 'ffense, but there ain't much stuff here that looks like it needs paperwork." Blaine looked down at him. With a sigh, once again he ceded with, "there doesn't look like there's much around here that requires paperwork. Happy?"

"Very!" At the back of the gym was a red door. A scanner at the back beeped green when a pink card passed over it. Getting used to everything in Blaine's life being some shade of red had made Lane appreciate the color more. The handle was yanked down, letting a gust of air conditioner blast into the 23 Celsius heat. "I'm not nearly as active as Professor Oak. Most of the research that I've wanted done has been done. Nowadays I'm involved in novel ways of training fire-types to respond to disasters and rescue scenarios, which leaves me quite a bit of free time. It gives me time to handle a lot of requests that require a gym leader's approval."

"I'd personally use my free time as me-time but…" Lane glanced back where they came from, at the stretch of rocky beach that barely would fit a trailer. If the volcano didn't swallow the mansion then fifty years of tides surely would.

Blaine finally pushed the door open fully. "That's enough dawdling. Come along! The puzzle machines won't fit new answers by themselves."

The laboratory was Blaine's personality splattered out onto interior decoration. Outside with the general lab was a clean atmosphere—also known as boring—that made laboratories so ably parodied in movies. Stepping past the open-air door became a fiery brimstone that would make uptight scientists balk. Red and white checkerboard tiles greeted their dirty shoes. Five desks ran from nearly wall to wall were spread apart with different materials and whiteboards on each one; if it weren't obvious at first glance, the little paper that was tacked to their base denoted each project with code names. The furthest one, with a red quartz top, had a computer as its centerpiece. Books and papers took up nearly every working inch of the table. Ideas that survived the rigorous process were put on the whiteboard before being imputed into the machines. Lane didn't know anything about programming but thought that typing out a new program, putting it on a drive, then doing more work on the machines themselves was horribly inefficient. What did he know? He wasn't a programmer, scientist, and riddlemaster. At the same time, he somewhat doubted the self-appointed title was accurate since 'trivia' were not 'riddles'.

They went to the puzzle table. He once asked what the other projects were for and decided that hearing the professor yapping for an hour about terms that didn't dredge up meanings, most likely only having meanings for those who were A+ nerds, would be better spent picking his nose in the back of the pokémon center.

A bump at the back of his leg made him gasp. Reaching down he picked up Lulu and nuzzled her close to his cheek. She returned it while Fomantis was squeaking in alarm, squished into his chest.

"I've never asked, but is she the mother of the Fomantis?" Blaine asked.

One of the greatest things that Lane liked about the man was any term that Lane used even once never had that confused tilt of voice other people would have. Letting Lulu go let him lean down and pat Dunsparce on the head. It made the pokémon shiver slightly less. He wasn't sure where his little guy learned it, but for some reason Dunsparce flagged Blaine as a mad scientist and started shivering whenever he was around.

"Yep! I was there when the egg hatched!"

"It's a life changing event seeing an egg hatch. I've never seen a person go through it without changing in some way. Many colleagues changed their entire focus of research once seeing it. Did you know that ol' Samuel's current obsession began when he saw a Spearow, of all things, hatch? Heh! You should've seen the old coot's face!" Blaine's gaze turned fond before refocusing into the present. "Either way, the planet. Yes, the planet is round, though you didn't look like you were surprised by that. The reason that we know the planet is round is—you guessed it!—the space voyage!"

"What," Lane dully said. Without any sort of emotion, it came out as a statement.

Blaine didn't notice. "Legend has it that with a pokémon unknown to us, they went straight up into the exosphere. From there he could see the curvature of the aurora, edges of the earth wrap around themselves, and the stars! Oh, the stars! How they're lost before even reaching down to us brings a tear to my eye! When I was younger, you know why I came out here? To completely avoid light pollution so I could become an astronomer. I still carry along the torch though the days of my most important research are behind me, I believe."

"Okay. Yeah. Space voyage before circumnavigating the planet. That's normal. Hmhm." Shaking his head, Lane focused on the important part. "You think that's a good question? If you're making it for all ages, then I think that a bunch of kids won't know the origin exactly. Maybe just have that the planet is round?"

"No, that's not hard enough. Everybody, everybody knows that! Otherwise all our understandings about how flying-types are able to—the ground-types that certainly have—Frumpy, the famous Alakazam from 2000 years ago, already knew that the planet was round!"

"We have written records from 2000 years ago about a random Alakazam?"

A hand laid heavy on his shoulder. Blaine took his glasses off.

"Random?"

Lane held his hands up. "The best Alakazam ever?"

Blaine just nodded. He sat down, typing furiously on the tiny computer. The keyboard was interesting, in the same way that a coroner in his off hours walking his dog would say a car crash was interesting. The letters were listed alphabetically. No left shift, tab, and control. Symbols that he was half-sure were japanese were where the numpad was supposed to be. None of the 'f' keys were at the top. None of this compared, most egregious of all, the escape key missing on the right side of the keyboard, replaced by the 'é'.

"And don't forget it. Much of Kanto's early history would be lost if it weren't for him working overtime preserving the old texts. From those we can extrapolate much about the history between surviving documents and archeology. Hm, maybe that'd be a good question?"

"No!" Lane jumped forward, almost knocking the screen over. "We want these to be answerable! If you want to include that question, then make it Red's!"

Blaine looked behind with a grin. The glasses stayed off. Looking at the world through a different perspective gave him a better ability to think in riddles. "Are you sure? Let me restate what we have: what pokémon migrate into Route 2 during the summer? How many known flying-types are there? Which normal-type moves use a pokémon's claws? You want to add the Alakazam's name? I think that's not tough enough for the level we're expecting from a Champion. Maybe we can consider also having to remember the years that he was alive?"

Simple relaxation usually didn't come easy with Lane. With good company and a stupid goal, anything could be possible. Weeks passed without much complaint.

The only thing that annoyed him was that Red was surely getting involved in crazy adventures without him.

Chapter Text

Training pokémon was different from learning. From the beginning he'd gone by feel, scrapping projects that didn't work, never taking the advice of anyone except Professor Oak. It ended up working nicely, considering how much he'd learned. Everything part of a battle could be trained—that's the best way that he'd describe it. Most people only saw the moves, the movement; those who went a little deeper described the bulk of their pokémon, the general tactics; and the most advanced wouldn't share their tips at gunpoint. Pokémon training was a personal hobby out of a mutual choice, two prisoners fully unwilling to speak rather than breaking under pressure. If your strategy was shared with the world while your opponent's wasn't, then you've boosted the general trainer's power without gaining a benefit yourself, because whoever had innovated with your strategy to make it better wasn't going to share it back. It made the whole community cagey about details as long as those details didn't blow a new trainer's arm off.

But Red had figured out one of the big secrets to training after the fight at the Pokémon Tower. What stronger trainers didn't want you to know—or left as an intentional challenge to weed out the weak—was that every part of a battle could be trained. Fire a move a hundred times and it improved your pokémon's stamina. Dodge attacks and you'd teach your opponent what to do when another pokémon dodged the same way. Get your pokémon cornered and they'd learn how to fight when their back is against the wall. Take your fight from an open plain to a crowded forest and these essentials changed. Every part of a battle could be taught. From the environment to the mindset, it created an endless amount of paths that trailed an endless amount of distance that Red could continue exploring past his lifetime.

A person wasn't like that, in Red's opinion. Improving oneself was a much less targeted endeavor. People couldn't be as specialized as pokémon. Infinite as a pokémon's potential was, it was finite because it was still limited as they only needed to focus on battling. Humans were more infinite if that made sense, and it made sense in Red's head so he concluded it made sense. Red could try to list all the things that humans could learn and wake up everyday remembering a new niche hobby. So in the little time that he had—shrinking with every step closer, with every step that he took—he focused on the skills that would help with his new insane idea.

'Learning' was merely training yourself, and Red thought that he was pretty good at training his pokémon, which gave him the confidence required to have sent most of his pokémon far away to do their training routines while he was hunched in a bush with a rope in his hand.

It was a juvenile trap. The cardboard box had been littered to the side by a jerk, yet Red had given it a new life by making the typical improvised trap that you saw in cartoons. Inside the jokes were unique insights that shouldn't be ignored. The idea to ditch the thorn in his side had come from a show that he watched as a kid, "The Adventures of Marlon and Ivory", a series about parents who needed to become supervillains and the wacky hijinks that came from their career choice, culminating in some super serious ending that made him feel sad instead of satisfied. Red didn't like sad stories.

The point was that he expected a pokémon, or one of those "animals" that Oak insisted were the prey of pokémon, to be illiterate in cartoon tropes, as tropes in media were hard to proliferate when the forest wasn't hooked up to the national power grid. Mounting piles of sticks and leaves had hidden the white twine that snaked to the stick. Describing the whole scene didn't do it justice of how natural it looked. Natural detritus was stacked until the box, nudged against a mound of dirt, looked to be a normal piece of litter. Berries and seeds were stuck in the far corner of the hovel. Besides the white string that wrapped around its foot, a wandering pokémon could easily imagine that this was a hiding place for a smaller creature or a discarded piece of trash blown deep far from the route.

Red himself was belly down. The bush he'd chosen was thick enough to feel like a weighted blanket over his back. Green and brown smudges from digging a tunnel through the brambles had created a natural camo, cloaking his eyes as they stuck out from the little hole of leaves parting. Both hands lightly held the threaded rope. Patience was required for the hunt. His opponents were alert for the tiniest hint. With his setup being suspicious in the first place, any extra tells would have his prey scatter away. Nervous habits were suppressed, breaths pointed towards the black dirt clumps that were making his chin itch. The position was uncomfortable and had been uncomfortable since he'd first crawled inside.

Whatever was caught wouldn't be hurt, of course. Though he'd seen it plenty of times, he had never gotten the idea to scan a Paras. The exercise combined training with productivity. Red felt proud of himself for thinking of it.

Now if he could find a way to stave off the boredom from laying in the same place for eight hours straight, he'd be set.

It was on the fifth hour that finally a bush rustled. Warily, a Paras was crawling forth from the other end of the clearing. Its eyes were glancing around the whole area as it kept its distance from the trap. Crawling forwards then crawling back seemed to be trying to bait out whatever predator could be watching. It did it again, then again, dragging on the process for an extra thirty minutes. Red recognized that a bug walking into the open was extremely stupid, meaning that this Paras had sharp instincts. His compliments ran out when the impatience made him forget that he was the predator.

It finally stepped close.

A blur came through the treetops. Leaves were flung against the rope. A single feather careened down.

Paras was gone. Red gently placed his forehead against the dirt. The coolness felt like it was smothering the flames of irritation.

He couldn't give up however. Trapping was an art that meant to trap, tricking another living being that also had a logical process leading it through the world. Treachery, he supposed, was the natural way that a human was supposed to live, at least another part of humans that couldn't be ignored. Relying on the good will if he actually left for the wilderness would leave him as little trainer-bits to be picked up by archeologists ten thousand years down the line. He quickly ate and got back to work.

He pushed the trap a little further back. There was a part of the mound still in the bush's sight and a distance from the free bits of sky that poked through the leaves. It was the best place available, allowing him to keep the same adjustments to the bush that he'd altered. Shearing the edges of the branches into nubs made those bits still poking into his jacket become tolerable annoyances that faded into the background. Digging out a little more dirt allowed his uncomfortable position to become moderately more ergonomic. A little bit of extra depth allowed his arms and legs to occasionally flex out without brushing against the bush, alerting any would-be prey. As a last second addition, he put a water bottle with a straw beneath his mouth. Puckering his lips could be enough to get a hold of the straw.

The trap was laid and vantage point created. He wiggled inside and waited.

Fantasizing about all the places where he could learn became entertainment. The mountains were instantly the first place that he thought of, though exploring the world was also tempting. The former allowed him to fight against pokémon that were strong enough to repel the rare attempt of the League to move further into the ranges. It was the harsh climate that created such ferocious beasts, with the few times (it hadn't happened in his nor his parents' lifetime) they'd wander down to human settlements becoming a nationwide emergency if they were strong enough, such as a dragon.

But to travel the world! Red imagined himself knocking the Leagues one by one. Presumptuous? Maybe, yet he'd started to feel the confidence that each gym leader seemed to want instilled into him since the fight against Erika, especially felt when he lurched towards the nearest route when he got bored—another habit that would need to be kicked if he wanted to achieve his dream. Most trainers couldn't take down a single pokémon. These weren't single badge trainers but cohorts, fellow trainers who were stalling on visiting Cinnabar or relaxing after defeating Koga. It was the type of strength reserved for those stories where a prodigy emerged from an unexpected place, defeating the whole League and achieving his goals and getting the girl—and Red would die before admitting that his favorite of those stories had the protagonist get a whole load of girls by the end.

The whole world—Kanto, Johto, Sinnoh, and Hoenn, the whole world—was waiting for him. Sights that he couldn't imagine and pokémon beyond his uncreative mind. But to travel like that would be admitting that there was nothing left for him in Kanto, in his opinion. Completely bouncing past Kanto, assuming that he won against the Champion, would say that every challenge had been usurped when he knew that wasn't true. Trainers who fought outside the League were aplenty, former champions still living, dangerous areas where only the most elite of humanity had seen.

Red's fingers rapped on the ground. It was also a matter of pride. He had nearly filled the pokédex, at least according to Oak, but the thorn in his side had left a scar that itched. Strange pokémon, abilities powerful enough that Lane could put up a fight with only two combat-capable fighters. What else lay in the treacherous corners of Kanto? Places that nobody knew, pokémon that had never been seen.

He wasn't attempting to become a parakologist (parakologist. Noun. pa·ra·ko·lo·gist. Pronounced / perəˈkäləjəst /. Definition: derogatory word for a group of researchers, reporters, enthusiasts, and politicians who believe or actively search for a pokémon's existence who is disputed or unsubstantiated, such as 'Surf's Up Pikachu' and Ponyta's third evolution 'Imarediate'. Not to be confused with UFOlogists, whose biggest claim is that the aliens want to abduct Magnetites to power their spaceships, or the various fringe scientists whose views are so diverse that they aren't given a single name, who go against conventional wisdom such as implying dragons having a weakness besides dragon.) since those people were crazy, but the tantalizing opportunity to be the one to discover that there was yet more to unearth in Kanto was enough to tempt him. No, it did more than tempt him. Thinking about it made him start to lean in that direction.

He finally saw what Oak was talking about with discovery. The chance of something unfamiliar walking into his trap was making his heart race, making it a little disappointing when another Paras came out from the ruffling leaves. No matter, he repeated. He'd get the information about the pokémon that literally everyone had seen once in their lives and strike out another name.

Its little legs scuttled like the last one. At least Red had the decency to not get impatient this time. Seeing was believing. Humans didn't have to worry about getting plucked up when buying a burger. So the minutes compounded, unblinking eyes watching as the bug skirted around the clearing. Its little beady eyes passed by his bush, the mushrooms given a front stage as its butt was shoved straight into his face. Then eventually it decided. Straying by the outskirts eventually had it get closer to the box than ever before. Its claws experimentally tried scooping the berries out before it fully entered into the hovel.

Red tugged. The box fell down. There was an alarmed cry that came from inside as the box started bouncing around. He popped up from the bush in elation. It was his prey! This was his win!

His victory sliced straight through the flimsy cardboard when it heard him move. The pokémon's mandibles clacked together menacingly. Its claws didn't seem sharp from a distance, but the clear cuts through the grass that their little swings made showed that they weren't dulled grabbers. He may have felt threatened at the beginning of the journey, where he was unfamiliar with what to do in front of an angry pokémon. Many could be run away from as a human's long legs were the envy of stout pokémon. Badges made him different. Team Rocket made him different. With a sigh of annoyance, he gave the signal.

A thunderbolt came from above. Despite holding back, the bug was still sent flying like a soccer ball. Pikachu leapt down from the tree and landed next to his trainer. The huff made Red feel like he needed to defend himself.

"It could've worked if it wasn't a Paras." His pokédex happily scanned the prone pokémon. "Look, you've trained your patience and I have another entry in my pokédex. Act up again and you'll be dragged out here with me next time."

Pikachu grimaced, message received. Red pretended that he wasn't embarrassed for expecting a cardboard box to work.

"Speaking of, how are you getting free pokémon center use?"

Pokémon centers had a specific set of rules on how they were to be used. Technically none of the services that they offered were free. If you were a civilian without insurance or a foreigner, then you'd have to pay the fee for anything they did. Showers, temporary boarding, healing, advice from the nurses, and more were provided at every pokémon center if you had permission; permission came in multiple different forms. Government subsidies pitched in to provide trainers with free services if they were specifically on their journey—though many were unaware of how many 'ifs' and 'buts' were included in the contract that they had to sign.

It wasn't only young trainers of course, but it also was evidently obvious that the young boy wasn't on his journey when he didn't have a single badge. Blaine was the first one to notice as they had a brief spar and were waiting for their pokémon to be healed.

Lane pointed. "A riddle! How many jobs get free services?"

"Free services from the pokémon center are provided for breeders, rangers, professional cartographers, sailors, foreign dignitaries, government employees, anyone employed within a gym, and miners. Nearly every insurance program comes with at least partially paid visits too."

Lane's eyebrow rose. He asked because he wanted clarification in the first place, not really expecting an answer.

"Some of those are out of left field."

"Miners, sailors, and cartographers all have to deal with the wilderness with their jobs. It is often that they need protection against the wild pokémon who attack when their habitats are disturbed." Blaine cleared his throat despite nothing blocking his airway. It was a habit that came with age. "I've heard there's other professions that are seeking government provided care too, arguing that they have the same problems, such as lumberjacks. From what I know about you, I'd reckon that you're a breeder."

"By technicality," Lane said easily.

Blaine leaned down to inspect the Fomantis that was laying on the younger boy's shoulder. It raised up one of its feelers in greeting.

The past three weeks had been hard work renovating the gym. What Lane was thinking would become old within the first day had been filled with the two excitedly sharing pokémon facts. Lane would titter to himself at night thinking about the trainers in the coming years guessing the colors of the legendary birds and listing all the abilities that a Dragonair and Dragonite had. That was a coup de grace which made both of them proudly look at the question for a few minutes, camaraderie nearly bringing tears to their eyes.

It created a new routine for the two. Lane cared for Lulu, talked with Blaine, joked with the villagers, and relaxed on the (currently) dormant volcano's side to spend time with his pokémon. It was slow. It was nice. Staying there for longer than a week made him start forgetting that there even was a world outside of the island.

Some days were different from others. Blaine had plenty of work to keep himself busy and would interrupt their time together when it started piling up. Lane, to his own surprise, didn't mind just hanging around. Papers of all colors spread out in front of Blaine from the clipboard that he always carried around as his pen went to work marking down boxes. Lines were filled with a quick cursive font that was near-illegible to anyone not familiar with it. Pushed as far away as possible was a coffee cup. There was a primal fear deep within his chest that prevented drinks from being near important documents.

"Is the League really sending me this? They already know that I can't be expected to deal with this. That's the entire reason that I submitted the form!"

Lane glanced over to the ranting old man.

"The mysterious water-type you won't tell me about again?"

Blaine seemed surprised that he was called out. He'd never been a quiet man, and his wife had gotten used to him vocalizing his thoughts of whatever he was working on.

"Y-Yes. There's a pokémon not native to Kanto who has taken residence on the volcano. I'd love to remove it, but even gym leaders are subject to type matchups, especially when the pokémon is so strong."

"How strong?"

"Strong enough that my usual methods in dealing with water-types don't work," Blaine grumbled. "It's causing all sorts of problems. When it hunts, massive amounts of pokémon are getting displaced. When it gets angry, it causes the entire island to shake. Give it enough time and I think it's going to come over here! It's not unprecedented. Gyarados have been known throughout history to be the doom of fledging fishing villages who settled to close to them. You know that's why Fuschia is where it is? That used to be Gyrados' hunting grounds, but a family whose name has been lost to time effectively ended their dominance—so said Frumpy in the Families."

He slid a folded paper over for Lane to read. It had niceties about how the gym leaders of their regions were expected to take care of problems that cropped up in their cities and the League was very sorry as there was no possible way that the League had anybody to spare. It was written in a vaguely apologetic yet clinical tone that only a government employee could stomach.

Lane considered how many things Blaine missed out on because he was a bit of a dupe. Doing paperwork on an island made you rather isolated from the mainland's politics. At some point you stopped being the nice guy and started being the sucker.

"You want me to deal with it?"

Blaine took off his glasses to scrutinize the boy. "Well, I'd never have you go alone. We can—"

"You can't let someone that young fight a strong pokémon. It isn't right," a new voice interjected.

They both turned to regard the sudden injunction into their conversation. 'Trying too hard' was Lane's first impression of the girl. Black, white, black and white, white skin and black hair all made a monochrome person who was giving a disapproving frown to Blaine. Her dress was thin, hugging her body tight enough to show that there was nothing to show. She'd been in the center for quite some time, but hadn't spoken since entering the room. A magazine about cars was splayed out on her table.

Lane left the tourists alone for the most part. They were flashes in the pan, usually the boring type who loved to travel and talk about traveling since they came to Cinnabar of all places. Hearing the haunting majesty of the Pokémon Tower, the epicness of Celadon, the quiet solitude of Fuschia and so on merely made him feel like he was losing out. It must've been an age thing because he didn't feel the same emotions that they described. He felt that the Pokémon Tower was so boring that he didn't want to visit it, thought that Erika seemed nice though a bit incompetent if she had an evil base underneath her gym, and kind of felt bad whenever Fuschia came up.

"If the pokémon is so dangerous that a gym trainer can't deal with it, then forget anybody that young," she said.

Blaine's eyebrows progressively got higher the more that the girl talked. Other than her bold words, they were delivered without much inflection to show that she really cared.

"I should emphasize that I'm merely particularly weak to water-types. Fire-type trainers who are much weaker than me can deal…" he trailed off, ending with a sigh. Her expression wasn't budging. "And what are you suggesting if you don't want him to go out?"

"I'll do it. I'm qualified as an ace trainer in Sinnoh," she said.

Her card was presented. Indeed, there was 'ACE TRAINER' in red above her portrait. The whole legal process to be considered an 'ace trainer' was different in each region yet they all respected each other's processes. Sinnoh's particular one was just raising a certain threshold of pokémon from their first evolution to maturity. There were just as many semantic caveats as there was with any legal term but the name affirmed that she had some level of competency. Marley, ace trainer, resident of Sinnoh, 15. She wasn't particularly happy that her bangs needed to be brushed aside while taking the photo.

"This all checks out." Blaine hesitated before speaking. It wasn't as if she was that much older, if at all. Brief curiosity flickered at Lane's age that was catalogued for later. "Are you certain that you can deal with it?"

She put the card away and crossed her arms.

"Yeah."

"Can I pretty please come? Please, please, please, please! I've heard alllll about ace trainers and I really, really, really want to see one in action!" Lane said.

Blaine was giving him a strange look. Gone was the person who could recite every normal type on the continent. In his place was a starry-eyed boy who clutched his Fomantis like a doll against his chest. The tiny pokémon willingly let itself get manhandled, though Blaine thought there was a bit of exasperation in those shiny eyes.

She was unmoved. "No."

"You misunderstand. Lane here is—"

"C'mon, big sis! I really want to see you put in the effort!"

Her entire body shuddered. "Okay. That's weird. I'm going to go and deal with that pokémon. Can you please not follow?"

Unfortunately, she didn't realize what catastrophe she had stumbled into. She hadn't met a normal young child. She couldn't have known that stepping into that pokémon center, indeed, just entering Cinnabar Island out of curiosity would set her in the sights of a monstrously bored child.

She left the building, walked through the town and stood at the foot of the volcano. The whole while there was an incessant voice that kept talking about nonsense that she didn't care about. It was something this or something that which had something to do with the current something. It was like a traveling minstrel, except the minstrel only knew how to speak in a continuous sentence that had no purpose or end.

She turned around and waited until he stopped speaking. It took the better part of the minute, but eventually his dazzling eyes were staring up at her mischievously.

"I need to focus when dealing with a pokémon that can make a gym leader struggle. Can you go back to town?"

"That's the wrong use of 'can', big sis! Don't do that in front of Blaine or else he'll wait for you to correct yourself!" Lane said.

"That's not—whatever." She pointed at the center of town. Thankfully there was nobody watching. She felt as though the debacle would've made her shrivel in embarrassment if there were witnesses. "You can watch from there."

"But then what if you fight behind the volcano? Then I wouldn't be able to see the awesome moves that you do!"

Sometimes nature was the best teacher where parents failed, Marley concluded. With a shrug communicating her capitulation, Lane cheered and he followed close behind.

The uninhabited part of the island was coated with a black soil that slid underneath their boots. It seemed hotter than the rest under the midday sun. There was a view over the entire island that served as a reminder of how small the town really was. A single eruption years later would level everything there with the black soil spreading into the ocean, leaving only a pale pile. For now, Lane appreciated the view as he made sure to remain pressed against Marley's back. Just in case, Fomantis was put back into his ball and Lulu came out. The pokémon was sharpening her blades against each other when Lane started whispering the situation into her ear.

It wasn't hard to find the pokémon since it didn't try hiding. Its rubbery body laid on a bed of grass that grew on the volcano's foot, opposite from the town. Waves lapped over its feet. Each touch of water would make a content croak rumble from its throat. When Marley became too entranced by the sight, he pulled her down. From a vantage point above from the resting beast, Lane laid on his belly while Marley was merely crouching. There conspicuously weren't any other wild pokémon. Only the waves and distant calls of seabirds awaited.

"I'm not even sure what that is," she said.

"Seismitoad! Water ground, well known for using those sacs over its body to create vibrations," Lane said. His voice was kept low, sounding as if he were trying to mimic another person.

Marley had a new appreciation for the ugly bubbles rumbled when it exhaled. For goodness' sake, some of them were bigger than her head. "Okay. Why does a Kanto kid know about a pokémon that I don't?"

He gave a beatific smile. "I know a lot of things! Are you proud of me?"

"No? No! I don't even know you."

"My name is Lane. Your card said Marley. I'm a historian!"

"Is it hard being a historian that young?" she asked, nonplussed.

"Never been one while old. I'll tell you if I live 'till there." He inclined his head down the slope. "So how are we doing this?"

"Isn't it obvious? We use grass-type moves and beat it. I'm sure that your school has already gone over type advantages," she said.

It was such a silly sentence that Lane had to look at her to be sure that she was being serious. Though they weren't together for too long, he'd already noticed she was one of those 'quiet, stoic' types, which had a name that he didn't remember. Kukuku. That's about all he had. There was genuine annoyance weaved into her tone which meant she wasn't an unfeeling microwave, but the expression looking back at him didn't lean one way or another.

He was going to assume that she was doing a joke. It was better that way.

"Ah, you Kanto people and your brute force," Lane said.

"I'm from Sinnoh."

"Same continent." The contrite look told him that the rivalry was alive past the mountain range. "Well? First shot's free."

Without much more preamble, she took out two pokéballs from her (black) purse that was hanging off her shoulder. She pressed her lips against it before throwing both out.

Ninjask was a tiny pokémon who was well known to be a speed demon. Being one of the fastest known things in the entire universe had given it an aura of impeccable strength. Using him disillusioned many trainers when they realized that the speed was obtained through sacrifice, a sacrifice of many things, such as important muscles to cleave through bulky pokémon and having a physique that would die to a fly swatter.

She hadn't been disillusioned. It'd been that pokémon specifically to spur her further in the rabbit hole of speed.

Her other pokémon, a tiny Growlithe, happily barked when it was free. Marley jumped down to grab the pokémon's snout, but it was too late. The ground rumbled. A beast which always slept with one eye open started pushing itself up to become bipedal.

"Ninjask!" Marley yelled. "Absorb!"

The Ninjask answered her cry by firing off a single, predictable green ball that sailed through the air at a good speed. It was fast enough that you'd be hard pressed to react yet your eyes could track it, like watching a race car speed by at its max velocity. Which is why when the hulking pokémon acrobatically leaned down with its torso nearly touching the ground, Marley realized that she may have walked into a dire situation. The green ball barely made a splash before fizzling out.

Her primitive emotions had made her leap in to substitute for the kid. Many water-types were bulky, entirely unfit for the speed demons of her team to deal with unless they had a typing advantage. That had been her plan until she learned that it was part ground-type. Now the only move which could hit its weakness was an untrained move that her Ninjask could barely form, as it had been months since it was last used. If she knew that water/ground dual typings weren't extraordinarily rare then she may have put more effort into Ninjask's absorb. As it was, the attack was slow enough that the frog merely let the second one plop against its head.

It leapt. Marley tracked the giant blue moon without much inflection. Lane whistled in admiration from the wild pokémon's strength. An eclipse passed by. Then, the descent. The impact shook the ground hard enough that it would've sent off earthquake sensors if anybody was manning them; as it was, one of the gym's labs had a machine beeping as its fifty-year old screen printed out a 0.5. The rumbling sent Lane backwards into Marley's arms.

The beast towered over them. It spread its arms wide and roared.

"Oh peanuts," Marley said, too shocked to move.

Lane wasn't. He leaned forwards then jerked his head back into Marley's abdomen. An 'oof' sputtered out as she bent forwards. With a hard push of his legs they started tumbling. The volcano was steep enough that they could keep the momentum continuing with little effort, though rolling against each other made the experience much more jarring when you were constantly bumping bones along with the rocky speed bumps on the way down. All three pokémon scattered as the Seismitoad's jaw opened wide, spraying so much water that its body was lost behind the screen. It had so much force behind it that the geyser sailed far into the ocean. Jerking its neck soaked their half of the island in rain.

Only the sudden leveling at the bottom prevented them from getting submerged. Lane's body skidded against the sand. Marley's body was metaphorically crushing him with her 140 pound body, though even that weight may be generous. It still was enough to pin his arms down. A wave lapping onto land filled her mouth with salt water. Both of their limbs were tangled together. Another wave soaked them. By the third wave she had finally gotten up, sputtering from the amount of ocean that were introduced to her taste buds. Lane scrambled up at attention with his pokéball already in hand.

He took a moment to breathe when all the old hurts from the last rendezvous sprouted alongside his new bruises. The griping in his head stalled when the stomps became rhythmic, each shaking the earth, sending tiny rocks bumping down the slope. Its arms were throwing about with the full weight of its body controlling its descent. She took the initiative this time, leaping like a coiled spring and pushing both of them mostly with the power of gravity. All the lesser beings dived out of the way to avoid getting trampled as the tyrant smashed rocks and seashells.

It skidded against the sand right at the precipice of the tide. Another earthquake made the loose parts of the mountain that it had stomped free start rolling down. Both the humans had to crouch as close to the ground as possible, gritting their teeth as the vibrations bore down into the joints. The leaves that were coming from the top of the mountain were knocked off course, embedding themselves into the sand.

The Seismitoad saw no need to change its strategy. Its foot rose again and struck the ground. Lane grinned savagely even as he was collapsing. Strong enough to make an entire island shake or not, it was still a wild pokémon. The ball unhooked, bringing out the second part of his plan. Dunsparce gave a weak mewl when it was released.

Seismitoad didn't like being threatened. Its head lowered. Its muscles coiled.

"Dunsparce! Sunny day! Lulu! Solar beam!"

Realizing the plan, Marley threw her arm out wildly.

"Ninjask! Target the joints!"

Wild pokémon weren't dumb. Being that strong meant that they interacted with other strong pokémon and trainers, and it didn't go past instinctual thought when a water-type felt the sun become scorching hot. Escape it definitely tried, lowering down on all fours and running into the ocean. Its front flippers created cannonballs that sent packed sand flying. A slash of light flew past one of its elbows just as weight was put on that arm. A painful sequence of croaks rumbled as it collapsed halfway into the risen wave, sinking slightly in the dune. The pokémon lifted itself up again only for its other elbow to be attacked. Its legs frantically tried leaping into the water, kicking up a cloak of sand as its chest pounded against the thin layer of ocean.

Lulu was far above. She'd never aimed from a great distance before. Improvisation was one of her strengths, a self-proclaimed strength, that didn't make her question the order. With the same method that she used to aim her leaf blades against flying-targets (self-taught, since Lane never even considered that it might be a problem), her blade centered in her vision, guessing the distance. Only a single shot. Letting it leave would hurt her pride after Lane had asked her to deal with it.

Light gathered into her body. Photosynthesis made visible. Aiming straight into its butt, she held out her other claw approximately angled to where she had pointed—dead center of the mass.

The roar that came from the powerful beam belied its unimpressive appearance. The drill from heaven was barely a flagpole, a green-tinged beam that had all the spectators blinking the purple afterimage out of their vision. It smashed into the center of Seismitoad's back. The pokémon was involuntarily shaped into a 'U' as its limbs spasmed from the pain. Carried by the sheer force, the water briefly parted ways so that a flicker of the ocean floor was visible. It was dragged along until it found rest on a pile of conches, a curious horde of Krabby poking its twitching limbs.

Both of their breaths were haggard. Marley looked down at the other trainer. She tried reconciling those star-struck eyes with the same person who just knocked a monster into next Wednesday. She really did try. It's not her fault that she failed. It's not her fault that Lane immediately switched faces.

"Oh my gosh! Did you see that! It went like bwoosh and you were like bwang!" Lane laughed. "That was so cool! Your Ninjask pulled that off sooo well. Can I get your autograph?"

He wasn't going to leave it there. They'd been traveling off route to get practice with what was coming. It made him feel like chuckling, remembering a month ago when he'd been too nervous to leave the route's safety.

This wasn't to say that the officials were lying; being off route had him challenge pokémon that would've squashed him and his team into pancakes merely two gyms ago. What a difference it made! Separating himself from civilization and fully focusing on training barely had him recognize the pokémon that he was eating with. The few who hadn't evolved—Wartortle and Ivysaur—were a single serious battle away from evolving. He could feel it. How he could feel it wasn't explored. Experience from evolving two other pokémon, it must be.

They didn't really have a destination. Wandering wherever the team members voted on had inflated the pokédex's numbers to over a hundred entries, far past the petty forty-three when he'd left on the cycling road. It was productive, though he could see it in the way that his pokémon had started to fall into routine during their spars. Charizard bodily flipping around the water gun that nearly hit dead-on, followed by a flamethrower aimed at his opponent's feet, and how Eevee would use quick attack on the exact same angles every fight had spoke of unhealthy habits.

But he knew that simply beating them out during training wasn't enough. Each time that he saw a new habit formed made him want to battle powerful trainers a little more.

He wasn't ready for the wilds yet and knew it. On a mountain somewhere near Fuschia and Vermillion, he was putting to work new strategies that he'd brainstormed. Little sticks broken off from fledgling trees were carried to a hole that he dug out himself. It wasn't too tiring with the help of a vaguely scoop-shaped rock, and it felt nice becoming stronger. This was being strong, sucking up any complaints and doing work that could be done himself. He was a team with his pokémon, a team that required him to exert effort too. Asking them to dig when he was fully capable would've embarrassed him fiercely.

Patting away the moisture on the sides of his arm-shaped hole ended up getting the rag he used stained brown. It was a little thicker than his arm and could nearly swallow him to his shoulder. The exact size would trap many smaller pokémon's legs and hopefully even the larger quadrupeds. Burrowing the sticks in a hex pattern until they had dug into the ground gave a perfect net that could hold up the leaves and grass he layered onto it. With enough effort, it looked like another part of the ground.

Once the trap was workshopped, he could leave it alone. Seeing the exact moment when it went wrong would allay his concerns. So another tunnel was dug into a nearby bush, giving him a vantage point to watch.

First was that the wind would dislodge the leaves and have them fly off, revealing a grate in the center of a forest bed. Using more sticks to weigh down the layer had them stay in place. Then, much more sinister, sleep started creeping up on him. It was understandable considering that he was doing an exceptionally boring activity the whole day. Putting another particularly stubborn stick underneath his chin had it continuously prick him whenever he started leaning down too much.

Even then, sleep started degenerating his system of logic. Stay awake, watch the trap. Stay awake, let your gaze wander. Who's going to come? That stick is uncomfortable. Shove it away. Stay awake, close your eyes. Fall asleep, don't snore.

Rustling woke him up when the sun had gone down. A blurry shape was wandering, pushing past the bushes that had surrounded the clearing. Whatever hope that he could've felt was ruined when its gigantic paw broke through the thin carpet. It looked down, curious about the amount of snaps that it had just made, or maybe about its arch lacking any support. Its foot raised, showing the hole that attempted to swallow it.

Red wasn't really worried. Maybe it was his degenerated logic, but he couldn't fear the yellow pokémon that had accidentally set off the trap. Why would it care? It couldn't see him. It would move along, not glance around the clearing until it perfectly picked apart the camouflage that he was wearing.

Its fists banged against each other, sending off little sparks that lit up the night. Red sighed, standing up and waving his hand. A siege of poison started shooting out from the treeline as he started walking back to camp.

He still had a lot to learn. Time was scarce, yet there was so much more to learn.

Everyday on the field required her to adapt to the surroundings. She was a person who liked routine yet liked traveling, and had to wrestle with the contradictions it created. Being on the move prevented any serious beautification so she used the brush that she carried around to the best of its effect while the blurriness in her vision faded to a manageable level. Then came the contacts. Pretending that glasses weren't real was one of her many duties in life. Finally to close off the routine was rereading her diary from the previous day so she could commit the memories to heart, though she suspected that the stuff written down was unforgettable either way. A breeze slid through the window, white curtains fluttering as she stood up.

A few simple workouts, pushups and the like, gave her a boost that kept her feet feeling light as she entered the shower. Afterwards she'd have an actual breakfast while reading the news if she were in civilization. Though the island may masquerade as civilization, her phone's empty bars said otherwise. Choppy connection had been an unending source of frustration since coming to Kanto. Being without service while knee-deep in muck made sense, not so when inside an official League building. The journey reminded her of all the cartoons that depicted Kanto natives as Marowaks.

It was hard ignoring the two sets of eyes that were trailing her as she asked the nurse about breakfast. Both perks and limitations came with being at an obscure corner of Kanto; none of those perks were related to the food. Most of it was frozen stuff that was heated up. She grimaced at the breakfast sandwich that was handed to her, counting the calories. The tables were in an even more dire spot. Two existed, one used by old men playing chess while the other had them. Not that them were too bad—the old man hadn't really done anything—but the second half of them acted way too familiar way too fast for her to be comfortable.

Lane's eyes couldn't get wider when she sat with them. Lulu just fondly looked at her trainer before shrugging at Marley. She wasn't sure how much the gesture actually meant when Lulu was wearing a matching pair of sunglasses with him indoors.

"How's it goin', big sis?"

"Please stop calling me that," she grumbled. The largest bite possible ripped into the sandwich. It didn't only look bad. It tasted bad. How they could stuff so many calories inside something without making it taste good was beyond the imagination.

"Why so grumpy? Didn't get any sleep?"

"I slept fine." She took another bite and swallowed it. Talking with food in her mouth was about the most disgusting thing she could imagine. "Look. It's really nothing against you. You're just…a lot."

Blaine nodded sympathetically. "I'm not sure what came over him when he saw you. Before he was a perfectly reliable repository of information."

"You looked easy to mess with," Lane cooed.

"Seriously?" Marley asked in dismay. Her voice was almost pleading. "What makes me look like that?"

"Nothin'. Just a hunch."

"You look like a reliable young woman to me," Blaine said.

That would've been a much better compliment in her eyes if it was done by a man perhaps a quarter of Blaine's age. "Well, I can't say that I was disappointed. I came to these islands for adventure and this could be mistaken as an adventure."

She nearly bit her tongue saying something so sarcastic. That's exactly why she liked to fade into the background. Talking for too long let out the wry humor that she was so fond of. Fond, yet fully understanding that it made normal people leery of her.

"You're traveling?" Blaine asked.

"Around all of Kanto," she responded.

"It's good to hear that you took the time to come down to our corner then! We're always forgotten in the grand scheme, especially by foreigners, so it's great to hear that somebody other than a trainer hoping for a badge made their way down here. There's so many interesting tidbits around. Not that the region as a whole is any less interesting, but there's specific history here that makes it unique from anywhere else that Kanto could offer!"

She looked around the pokémon center. What normally would be stuffed with trainers, pokémon, books, information, life, was empty. Few houses stood outside and any complicated construction was dismissed for practicality. She didn't care much about the mansion since it was admitted by Blaine to only have worth as an urban explorer's dream, along with having belongings from his friend that he didn't touch. The only sight was the volcano, impressive insofar as any mountain was impressive and, last that Marley checked, there was an entire range up north.

"I'm sure there's a lot that I'm missing out on," she said diplomatically.

Lane put his fists up to his chin and made the best cutesy expression he could. "So you're traveling around all of Kanto? Want to come with me? I'm doing the same thing!"

"No."

"Aww. Come on!"

"Sorry. I don't mean to be rude, but I barely know you and I'm doing a side project on the way. You'd get bored standing around random grottos as I searched for multiple days." She brushed hair out from her face. "Speaking of, I'm going to be doing some diving in the area, so I'll be around for a bit. Don't act like I'm leaving immediately. Between visiting the areas that I want, I'll be here resting."

Not as if there were any other place to do so unless she wanted sunburn.

"It would've been bizarre to come here for a mere day," Blaine said.

She found it hard to keep any snide comments within her. Her natural fretting made her research the region before coming. That's what her sister said in agreement: "Kanto is weird, sis. They're really regional and have people who can ruin your life without repercussions if they want to. Make sure that you know those people from the normal ones." So scared of her ruined future, she spent the entire sleepless night looking up names.

Blaine. Hermit, once ridiculed for living on an empty island just for research. Now there were a few people there, but his reputation hadn't improved. There were a lot of rumors that floated around which couldn't be substantiated since it was generally a trainer or tourist doing he-said, she-said. Either way, rumors said a lot. If people thought so little of you that it was plausible catching you taking apart sushi into its individual parts before eating, then Marley thought it hypocritical calling anyone else bizarre.

"Well, when you're not diving, you get to help us with the riddles. Hooray! Making puzzles with big sis!" Lane jumped out of the chair, pumping his fist. Lulu squeaked when she was lifted and spun around. "Woohoo! Let's throw a shindig everybody!"

There was no party. They were all responsible people there. Marley started researching her downloaded material about the underwater areas around Cinnabar while Blaine had gone to his homework. Out of respect he quieted, going through the grooming process with Lulu.

It was probably the shake up to the routine that had made him a little more incorrigible. So, patting his hands against the table, he turned to Blaine.

"So, Blaine, you're a fire-type leader. You deal with fires. Fires are like explosions. You're also a scientist, meaning that you've taken a single chemistry class. Do you have an explosive device on hand?"

Chapter Text

"Why am I doing this!?" Each syllable came with a violent shake, two, if his arms could manage. The pokémon that was being thrashed about didn't have the energy to try wriggling free. Lost battles were ceded as that's one of the few things she'd been taught by Lane: don't exert effort when the outcome will hardly be better. Thus she didn't try convincing him it was hard communicating when the language barrier was intact, as coming free could make Fomantis his next target, calming him down when his swirling pupils were rolling round the abyss of his eyes seemed next to impossible, as was doing much of anything besides being the stress ball to suppress his anxiety. "Why am I like this? We're talking! Talking! And then I just—she did look easy to mess with, you know? And she does look easy to mess with when she comes back sopping wet! But I didn't need to say it out loud! Ahhh! I'm attuned to, like, seeing that kind of stuff! Can that stuff even be used for good!?"

Lulu could think of ways that being empathetic could be used for good but didn't feel like playing charades with her blades (which was a genuine way that her congregation passed the time, miming shadowed figures with their scythes and using moves to create scenarios that amused the children), especially when her arms were still pinned to the sides. So the freakout continued, with him basically repeating the same things as loudly as he wanted.

They were on the other side of the volcano so he could destress as violently as possible. Marley had disappeared underneath the ocean's surface again for reasons that she was cagey over, Blaine was doing a gym battle against a kid that was going to lose, giving Lane the space needed to be himself. Trainers generally needed plenty of solitude. Besides pokémon who didn't like other humans on principle and the multitude of things that could go wrong with having more warm bodies around magic creatures, relationships growing deeper with the same principle as friends hanging out in more intimate settings, or trainers being cagey with their secrets and finally having opportunities to let loose; there were an infinite amount of unique reasons that it's recommended to have designated 'poké-time'.

Of course, some people weren't typical. Lane hated being without human company. He was only standing on that side of the volcano so he could act his age—such a crime!—without having to fear that his multiple personas would crack. Training? Bonding? He didn't need the former and he freely would coddle his pokémon no matter how many eyes were on them.

Another sharp yank made Lulu's head snap forwards, lightly bouncing against his wrist. "Arrgh! I acknowledged it with Red and I'm doing it again! What am I doing wrong? Why do I want to mess with people so bad? Well, because it's fun. Yeah. But it could be fun and make people not hate me, right? Right? I think so! I think so, right Lulu?"

The way that her head was flung back and forth again could've been interpreted as agreement.

"Yeah, I just need to figure out how and treating this girl the exact same way that I treated Red is not the way that I do that! Which, ugh, I can't, I-I don't know. I don't know what I'm doing."

She was finally released, loose clumps of black dirt flying as she landed. Fomantis and Dunsparce were looking in concern from their flat rock, getting waved off by a blade. Somebody needed to be the responsible one of the group. Their trainer was an impulsive kid, one was a coward, and another was a baby. She'd sooner allow Lane to let them walk inside the volcano before ceding responsibility to those who weren't ready.

A blade ran down his leg soothingly. It wasn't much but the vague comfort made him collapse onto the dirt too. The ocean smelt strongly there, a salty stinging overlaid on years of microbes. Beneath the soil was life abundant. Digging his fingers into the ground felt as if the planet was holding him in comfort. Rainbows of white danced on the niches of water, a flexing organism that resolved to never stay still. Salt dragged down the conveyor belts of his cracked lips.

"Doing is the only way that I'll get better, and I need to get better, but, ugh." The balls of his hands rolled across his eyelids. It wasn't as if tears were near to dropping. It was more of embarrassment, one that made his lips force into a pucker. "I really don't know what I'm doing with this. I guess the issue is that I feel like I'm left behind and I can't stop myself from thinking that it's all my fault. Left behind in, you know, the stuff that matters, like sitting on this island for a whole month or whatever, and it's not like I don't like being here, but I'd rather if we were still traveling which we aren't because I'm a weenie. I don't care about being strong or rich or any of that, but I wanna do stuff with others. It's 'cause we were alone for so long that I jumped on the opportunity to have fun, but everyone's acting like it's such a crime."

He finally took in the suggestion of somebody else. That statement was so ridiculous that Lulu was giving him a stare, trying to communicate everything that she felt with her slitted eyes that had trouble replicating emotions humans could understand. He stared back, thinking, as he tore apart his own sentence.

"You think that it's because I did illegal stuff too? No, that can't be it. Red likes doing illegal stuff or else he wouldn't have broken into the game corner. But, but, hmm." Lane crossed his arms and genuinely started thinking. "I genuinely don't know. I'm not really trained to pick up on these things. Maybe I need to ask another person for their second opinion? But, eheh, that's so embarrassing. I don't think they're going to give me a real answer."

Lulu smacked her blade over her forehead, deciding to let the freakout pass rather than help; with their communication being stunted, it'd be useless to try convincing him that he was wrong when half the attention would be trying to decrypt her movements into words. All she could hope for was somebody to come along and smack her trainer over the head whenever he was acting too silly. Pray for that person, hope that person is around the corner, and ignore that everyone in his life at the moment was either enabling him or a victim that wanted to run as far away from the eccentric boy.

You'd think if he felt that strongly about this, he would ask people who had the capability and skills of giving him advice—like Blaine, or Marley, or the ladies that would humor him, or the old curmudgeon who was the janitor for all the buildings on the island, or the bored storekeeper who'd always be sleeping when they visited, or the actor who pretended to be a thief in the mansion, or the actual reformed thief who happily took the job as a pretend burglar, or anyone who could give actual advice instead of the two-thirds of his pokémon who stopped paying attention past the first sentence.

A sound made them all jump. Her ears swiveled, trying to pinpoint the thunder that struck during a clear sky. It multiplied as it flew by, turning into the rumbling of the earth swallowing its children. It felt like her adrenaline was amped up despite there being no evidence of danger being nearby, and looking around showed that the whole group felt the same way. A freshly dug hole was at the foot of the flat rock, Fomantis stumbling inside when he decided that whatever happened was far beyond his ability.

If Lulu were being honest, she wasn't confident in seeing whatever caused the freak weather either. That in itself was the scary part: she wasn't sure what happened, yet she was sure that it wasn't natural.

It was the most obvious person who didn't seem confused. Blue eyes, the reflections merging into a minimalist painting of broad strokes, had turned to where the explosion happened. No details stood out from the blank horizon that could swallow an unwary victim's attention for years. He felt the changes—his hairs had risen and little arcs of lightning leapt from each end and a presence so strong that it started providing a hallucination of a monster looming over him had taken over—that were too coincidental for him to dismiss. This was familiar.

It also confirmed that the gigantic shadow that had enveloped him when he'd been rejoining society was something about as dangerous as he'd been thinking. High in the mountains, a chilly breeze was replaced by the desert's breath within a step, the plants around them seeming to wither underneath a heat multiple notches above what they'd felt in their lifetimes. Suddenly it felt like the sun was breathing onto him. There was yet another time that he felt a similar sensation, but that was practically ancient history.

There were other questions that were raised but his general theory was confirmed when the curious onlookers leaving their houses didn't seem panicked. He was uniquely attuned (for some reason) to the strange feeling that emitted from these monsters (that emitted for some reason), to the level where he was just as uneasy as his pokémon.

Thrilling tremors made it hard to suppress the grin that started stretching. Eventually he stopped fighting against it and let his lunacy take over. That presence which buffeted against his chest and stomach and face and made his entire body violently shiver was raw intensity that he couldn't get enough of. No amount of bomb threats and threatening fights in the wilderness could compare—and he wasn't anywhere near it!

"Lulu," he said, charging ahead, "prepare to leave. We've got a time frame of about a few weeks or so. It could very well be tomorrow or another month from now, but it's happening. Probably. Just a guess."

Kanto was unknown to Red. He had to admit that he was yet another young boy who'd proclaim their love for the region while spitting at the mention of Johto, sometimes embarrassingly admitting that he had a song from Sinnoh that he liked. Traveling made him convinced that he was hardly more of the typical Kanto stock than the people who lived on Cinnabar. It was a big region, a diverse one that brought surprises with every new city that he'd visited. It was a big region that wasn't only the cities, and he thought that lesson was already learned when he'd go running in the forests, Blue leading the charge as he was the more confident one, around Pallett with Professor Oak's pokémon acting as babysitter; their imaginations would dress them as the soldiers from days old, fighting for the glory of Kanto as their graphic-tees of pokéballs would get smothered by grudging around in the trenches.

Searching outside the routes had revealed secrets that couldn't be part of a patriot's consciousness because they were enveloped by the nature around them like a cocoon. What was Kanto when they couldn't even fight back against nature? Every so often a careless lumberjack would get assaulted by a den of Spinarak, a horde of allied ground and rock-types emerging from the ground if their homes were disturbed. It had initially disturbed Red when he'd found a waterfall that wasn't on his maps. He quickly grew to think of himself as the luckiest man in the world as he camped next to it, thinking of himself as one of the only true Kanto citizens in a whole region of pretenders.

And once that hesitation faded? Red had delved into the forgotten edges of the regions with aplomb. Forgotten ruins, natural beauties, and so many tiny details that were unknown to the greater Kanto public had pushed him on like an addiction. Along the way he continued his trapping skills before finally throwing in the towel, buying a book in Lavender Town that detailed the traps that their ancestors used to survive when routes didn't exist. It felt like capitulating to Mr. Ushimaru, historian extraordinaire well known for his ability to make droll history sound fun to the general audiences, when he used a better designed version of the hole trap.

Along with this was a bit more daunting history of the region than what he learned about. The amount of old, abandoned buildings that had become the haunting grounds of powerful pokémon were too many to name, many not being significant enough that they even deserved a name. Following a river that worked around the back of Route 10 had brought him to a gigantic building ensconced beneath a section of the mountain that seemed carved away specifically for the metal monstrosity. Wires limply hung from its side. Red could track where they used to suspend, gigantic metal frames standing tall despite their masters having died long ago. Its little amphitheater design seemed to catch sounds like a radio dish. He could hear the coughs of starters and the drumbeats of a thousand shoes, mixing together into a distant hum that seemed to come from the planet.

There were people out there too. The front of the building was a known battle spot where he got a few good fights against a class of trainers that were stronger than what he'd fought while traveling across the region. Eventually he'd gotten curious about the area as anyone who'd been there. Nearly the whole entrance that jutted out from the metal base was made out of windows, sturdy enough that they hadn't been broken over the years. Shadows seemed to slip out from their rightful places, staining the bright green grass in front. Standing at the entryway made him feel like he was being challenged. Looking inside didn't intimidate him any: it was a normal lobby area, even if the front desk had been smashed by a rock larger than a Snorlax, and the metal beams that had fallen looked more cool than anything. If he listened closely, there was metallic clanging coming from deep within.

He turned to a scientist who was sitting nearby, laptop tucked into his lap.

"Does anyone know what's in there?" Red asked.

The scientist glanced up, still focused on his work. He was a scientist because he wore a lab coat. He was an individual because he wore a red lab coat instead. "A lot of the kids that battle here go inside to train. It's a precarious place. There's no power anymore so you don't have to worry about getting zapped, but the facades have been crumbling for years now and are still falling apart. More than that, once you get past a certain point, the electric-types start getting aggressive."

"Aggressive?"

"They'll start working together to attack you." He looked up, adjusting his glasses. "That's the point you have to return, really. Some dimwits use that assault as a way to train, which is the most foolhardy method I've ever heard. Do me a favor and be a little smarter. Better yet, be the smart one and don't go in at all. It's not unlikely that a piece of the ceiling will fall on you."

The scientist just rolled his eyes when he recognized that look, going back to his program.

Despite what the scientist thought, Red couldn't find the confidence to support his curiosity. His team wasn't the best against electric-types. Every time there were multiple strong electric-type pokémon on his enemy's team, it became a game trying to figure out how to dismantle their strategy while minimizing the damage to his own pokémon—minimizing, because there was no chance a competent pokémon wouldn't take at least one down. Even Charizard struggled, and he was the ace in the hole. Good ol' Charizard.

But he'd developed multiple techniques for fighting against electric-types that he didn't have the opportunity to try in an actual hard battle. Fingers tapped against his elbow. The soft reassurance of bone hitting back made him centered. Plenty of other places were designated as 'Extreme High Bad Bad Not Good' zones that trainers shouldn't enter unless they had a brigade, and he was still standing. If he had to rank them, then it would go something like the northern face of Mt. Moon as the most dangerous, off route 25, the outcroppings in Diglett Cave where there's multiple signs pleading trainers not to spelunk off the main route, the southern coast below route 15, and the forest below route 11 by far being the least dangerous. Surely an abandoned power plant couldn't be more dangerous than those places, even if the rocky beaches that were slightly east were apparently the second most dangerous part within Kanto's borders (a wall of cocky trainer's clavicles and femurs staked out the territory of the Autonomous Ground-Type Sanctuary—AGTS, pronounced by those who believe in it as 'ajeets'—or so Red had heard from a guy with a long beard). Surely it couldn't be more scary than Victory Road. He was intending to try to get all the badges, fight against the Champion too if he could help it. If a fort of wild pokémon scared him off, then he'd better hang up his cap instead of pretending he had a chance.

That was what forced him inside, a chance. His mom and Professor Oak had given him well-wishes and jokingly said he was going all the way. Erika had strangely given them clemency and gifts for breaking the law. Morty, a person who should've been biased against him, had implied the same. Sabrina had apparently rushed ahead his appointment, something that surprised her trainers, even if he had kicked Team Rocket out.

People believed in him. Chickening out in front of the Champion's door wasn't going to get him any sympathy. Pretending there was an unavoidable fight up ahead made it easier to cross the threshold of safety and apparently face-zapping intensity.

Massive cracks that would cleave through entire rooms forced him to tiptoe at parts, rotting pieces of the building's skeleton fallen through the ceiling kept clear away from. Humming came from somewhere, making him more wary about getting near any of the exposed wires that inlaid the whole place. Arcane machines scattered around mysteriously not having a single hand attempt disassembling them for parts. The place was built as inconveniently as it could, with the few doorways that led to the inner sections having collapsed ages ago. He walked around the tangle of hallways, slowly moving towards the place's heart.

There were a few pokémon that impeded them on the way, though they were so weak that Red quickly taught them that these intruders were a bit stronger than their usual fare. At some point these challengers dried up too. He was alone.

He started seeing how far other trainers had gone. Leftovers from previous fights littered the hallways. Webs had consumed an entire wall, long stretches of blackened tile from carelessly shot fire, black mold growing in places too deep for the rain to disturb them, and mundane damages of claw marks and craters. Further still these started disappearing alongside the debris. Downright livable is what Red could describe the innards of the power station once the fights had become less common, abandoned items more so.

Another place, at what must've been the back of the building as a whole. It was a long hallway with a near undisturbed floor, the slices of window that were near the ceiling shining down upon him as he walked. Rows of mighty machines larger than a locomotive that once provided power for the area were draped in the black insulated vines that freely hung from the ceiling. The air was easier to breathe than some places outside, smelling like the flowers that were growing past the cracked windows. Nearly the whole place was visible, if not for where the lattice girders acting as pillars casted shadows. It still was dirty in a way that an uninhabited place generally was, pebbles kicked by down the center aisle of the machines where humans would obviously walk, and the beams of light sludging through a coating of dust. Amongst the corners was a textured layer of grays, black bits sloughed off reminding him of onion that was left in the pan too long. Those few pieces that maintained their full form carried rusted sheet metal like armor.

Yet he knew that there was more to the story. This room was long, long enough to hold both the Professor's lab and his home's length and maybe a little more. The environment that he'd come to associate with ruins was absent, mats of industry (flakes of concrete, the tasty smell of unknown chemicals, little bits of the ceiling that hadn't disintegrated, glass garnish crunchy like pepper) or the carpet of dust that'd make their homes on undisturbed surfaces. It felt like the set of a movie; the essentials were there complete with yellowing plants sticking from underneath the windows yet the tiny details didn't match like it was meant to evoke the image of decaying industry instead of being the genuine article.

Red looked directly up. There were pipes, bronze with rust, that made a flaking tapestry above the cubed sections of metal frames. Behind those, metal orbs, gleaming like satellites, sticking together in a placenta-like growth. An eye stared through the center of the mass.

He dived out of the way as the first ball dropped. Cracks sprung up around its impact, magnets around its body waving around in sharp jerks. Another, bang bang, machine guns firing. They were aiming for intimidation, he knew. The pokéball that he hurriedly tossed out opened as the inner parts of the mass started floating down instead, groups of Magnemites stuck together being the last to crown the swarm that had fallen.

Snorting a plume of black, Charizard belted out fire without needing a command. Flames sheared through the horde, leaving behind smoking hunks of steel. Those that reacted fast enough whizzed around them. The horde had awoken. Quickly a gleaming tornado had been formed, fast enough that occasionally entire directions became a solid chunk of gunmetal gray. Another pokéball was thrown out, Red leaping onto Venusaur's back before he fully formed. A whisper into his air made the flower lean slightly forwards, a giant cough of spores cutting into the cloud. He brought up his collar over his breathing holes and pressed himself into the pleasant-smelling muscles. Wrapping his arms around the stem signaled that he was ready. There was a conspicuous hole where the spores lingered, any Magnemite who got too near dropping like a rock. It allowed Venusaur to whip his vines forward, wrapping around the edges of the machines, and slingshotting them forwards.

Venusaur dropped his landing gears. They skidded to a stop right in front of the wall. Red didn't need to look up to know that Charizard was still blindly firing into the crowd like the meathead he was.

"Charizard! Your technique! Do it!" Red screamed.

Charizard shut his mouth. Mountains of Magnemites collapsed onto the floor, mountains more flying around. Little arcs of electricity leapt from body to body, becoming greater with each portion shared between their magnets. That was only obvious if you could slow down the footage. From the perspective of the intruders, it had become a fish's net. Charizard couldn't contain the attack at that point and he wasn't intending to.

Pointing his mouth down, a stream of heat washed down to his feet. The slight manipulation that all fire-types inherently had made the flames start working upwards. Splashing flickers worked higher than any natural fire could've made. Pushing all his heart into the attack created a corona of black scarring the metal ground, little marbles of glossy sweat working off the denting parts, as a pillar rose into the sky.

Outside it looked like a tornado from hell had arisen. Wavering pillars nearly touched the ceiling. Magnemites that strayed too close would start spinning like helicopters as they crashed down. Black smog had quickly started flinging off the center, enveloping the flames in a cloak of stormy clouds where only intermittent flashes of red shined through.

The crowd had started becoming confused. Charizard couldn't be seen behind his smoke screen and their other targets had run away behind one of the machines. They would've resolved to continue passing the lightning if the compounding effect wasn't becoming hard to handle. Passes started warping the tips of the magnets, Magnemites groaning in pain as the lances worked through their bodies. They knew that they needed to make a move.

A single Magneton, the strongest of the bunch, took the chain and kept it. Power swirled inside of its connected bodies. They let it sit for a second, appreciating the thrill that made their magnets shudder in anticipation. Another Magneton came. Two pairs of magnets hovered over each other.

A star was born. The bottom of the white ball seemed to be dripping, losing form in between their shuddering limbs. Bright branches flashed against the two pokémon. With closed eyes, they flew straight into the center of the tornado. Nobody could see through there, but the army knew to back away before impact.

The sound was greater than any other. Windows shattered as a sonic boom made the skeleton of the building shudder. Clouds of dust in space, ethereal glows, drifted amongst the room for that crack of a second. Blue more luminous than the sun visited.

Then it was gone. The Magnetons that had carried the payload fainted on the pile of melted metal. The curious Magnemites, those who weren't occupied with the ambush from behind the generators, approached the spot—no Charizard. A few looked up to see a hole burned clean through the ceiling. Those were the only ones quick enough to react when the pokémon swung down the opening, turned into a meteor ready to dispense punishment. Rippling waves engulfed the crowd that had gathered down below. It was like an angered nest; those who weren't completely panicking started going on the offensive, buzzing auras turning into stings that shot towards the target that was weaving through the leftover clouds of smog. Charizard dipped low, never taking a moment to make sure that his continual flamethrowers were actually hitting their targets. It's not as if he needed to aim with how many were scattered around.

Letting them reorganize would be a death sentence. Whenever those recovering Magnemites were starting to gather in another group, they'd scatter as a belch of intense heat would pierce like a missile. Even the minute, second-guessed blasts were hot enough to leave behind steaming pieces of metal wherever they impacted. It was a sizable power difference from the stinging kisses from passing Magnemites, no matter how many of these static charges brushed his wings.

It had quickly turned into routine. Weaving between pieces of cover, shooting down targets that would fight back, like a more intense training session where he never really felt threatened. The metal balls whizzing by were discus, attacks from certain angles forcing him into a dodge that he remembered from fighting against Pikachu so many times, all the while his brute force from so many hours of repeating the same attack would take down whoever touched his death beam.

The glimmering spikes and barrage of leaves that started blasting into the general crowd made a thrill go through him. He hovered for a moment, taking in the groups who had managed to regain a semblance of order before retaking the fight to have more notches in his belt than his teammates. Those unlucky enough to try fighting back were knocked out by icicles and leaves that rammed into their bodies, and those unlucky enough to try stubbing down the ones sniping their comrades would have their lightning bolts redirected by a stubborn Pikachu.

The Magnemites didn't have infinite soldiers. With them grouping together, more were mowed down by the flames than was necessary. It was like waking up from a vivid dream for the final survivors; there were no more Magnetites, and the remaining swarms could barely form two groups. One of those were shaved down half their fighters when a particularly lucky fire blast engulfed their regiment that misjudged the distance. It was the final break to the morale; swathes of Magnemites flew down the hallway, out the windows, through the holes poked into the ceiling and soon left the last brave ones to turn into the last foolish ones. Their piddling leftover resistance was quickly cleaned up.

Charizard landed heavily on the ground. His tail brushed aside the minor nuisances as he roared into the air. His claws clenched tightly, feet banged on the metal like a sumo wrestler. What felt like hundreds of wild pokémon were knocked down around him.

Pikachu, Lapras and Venusaur were looking on skeptically, wondering if the big lug even appreciated how many of those knockouts were due to them. Red didn't care. He ran ahead, leaping up onto his pokémon's neck. They spun around, the human laughing as his pokémon's tail thumped against the ground. Dizzying joy churned with actual dizziness when Charizard didn't stop spinning. When his feet made a heavy thump on the ground, Red was swaying this way to the next, until he finally tripped on a ball and fell to his butt onto another ball.

The sudden pains didn't lower him down. His head was swollen, a laughter that couldn't stop no matter how many times the scenes replayed in his head. Textbook, better than textbook! They wrote the whole textbook! The improvised moves, the reapplication of the simple electro-ball into redirecting much more powerful electric-type moves, the clean escape, the way that his pokémon worked together. This was the best battle they'd ever carried out. Team Rocket, heck, even the gym leaders hadn't pushed them like that had. It may have sounded like a clean sweep, but Red knew it was only through their consistent training that they'd gotten out.

Red remembered when he was young, shriveling his nose in distaste when Blue described all the insane adventures that his team would go on. Too dangerous, too wild, not what his mom wanted. Those thoughts were gone. And from the way that his pokémon were behaving (Pikachu had climbed Charizard's head and was making some sort of proclamation to the downed pokémon, Lapras taking special care to keep her head risen like a noblewoman and Venusaur was prancing around like he did when he was younger), they agreed.

Breathing deeply, he picked himself up and started shimmying past the swathes of bodies. The Magnemites who had woken up cowered away as he and his team walked past. Boastful swaggering had the pokémon still nudged away in their hiding places—the dark edges of the room and hovels within the old machine's guts—looking at them like an invading force. Pikachu, not nearly as numerous, let out little sparks from their cheeks as their young hid behind them. Shadows of more Magnemites grew out from the girders'. There was a whole reserve force biding their time. Red knew that if they gave an opportunity, another fight was imminent.

With the great clouds of ash settling over the floor, spotlights giving a dramatic air to his alert team, he nearly became too choked up with emotion to speak. Charizard—his starter, the one who was equally as stoic, proudly lifted his tail straight in the air like a lightning rod, snout raised up as if posing for a portrait. Back when the pokémon was up to his waist, taking such a position would have Red snort; he was no longer amused. His pokémon cut an impressive figure compared to the wild horde staring at them. This was his greatest achievement, and Charizard was glad to show it. And the rest! No matter when he got them, they were consistently loyal members who had just fought back a horde of wild pokémon. He was proud without description.

Throwing out the remaining pokémon was a precaution when he recognized there was only one room left to explore. Charizard and Lapras stood guard by the opening at the end of the hallway. Hesitantly stepping inside made his shoes echo against the grates. Below was a shaft. He couldn't see the floor, only the rectangular glass squares of inert lights caged by metal bars and a singular catwalk shaded black. Shoved in the corners were generators three times his height. It was the darkest part of the whole building.

From the entrance he felt like each hair was getting sundried. A horrendous heat without heat. He could walk through despite it suddenly feeling like he was getting air dried. There was a persistent smell like the chemicals that his mom would use on tough stains. Washed over his eyes was a tingling that especially insisted this room wasn't to be trifled with. He stepped further in anyways, recognizing that he was doing so alone. Behind him his pokémon were all looking upwards. He didn't dare to do it. He walked to the center, arches of his feet feeling the million year drop. He didn't dare look up. It could be seen as arrogance, but he kept his fists lightly beating his sides as the flaps came ever closer. He waited until the tips of its claws had finally entered his vision.

Wind blew across his face. A straight beak, like it was designed for suckling nectar from a thin-lipped flower, stuck out beneath curious eyes. Its feathers clumped together in angry spikes that blew off from its face and tail, tipped its wings—like it was ready to burst. Crackles that didn't seem so obvious when he was standing outside played a concert. His ears popped, and popped, breaths became heavy as the atmosphere changed on a dime. Black feathers drew a border around its body, a shadow of itself that seemed to glare at Red.

Pure yellow. A yellow that sharpened the eyes. A yellow you'd only see for a second before the flash had gone.

Red's head fully rose.

Above him was one of the greatest finds that a person could ever hope he'd be graced with. His quivering arm found itself automatically going to his backpack as the rest of him was kept ever still. Out came the pokédex. He clumsily maneuvered the camera to face the monster. Its beep confirmed that it had scanned the bird, though obviously it didn't spit out facts back at him. This was a legendary. It was a force of nature. And Red had intruded into its territory without having been reduced to smithereens.

He looked back at the electric-type pokémon that were watching. None of them looked so aggrieved anymore, though they were keeping a very healthy distance as they watched. Pieces started clicking together.

"You're Zapdos, the legendary bird, and this is your roosting spot, or one of your homes," Red said. He recalled some legend that it lived in stormy clouds, but have those people even seen the bird for themselves? He pointed towards the crowd. "Those are there to defend you, or something of that nature. I'm not intruding, am I?"

He still was breathing, so Red took that as agreement. There was a door against the wall with an iron bar clasped across in the old-fashioned way of making a lock. If Red's internal compass was working then that would lead out the west side of the building.

Trying to work up the nerve to say the next part required their express permission. Each of his team locked eyes with him one by one. Reactions were varied. Most had a determined glare when they realized what he was doing, save for Blastoise who just looked exasperated. He took that as confirmation and looked back at the bird.

"You're Zapdos, and I now know you exist and have seen you with my own eyes. Nobody will believe me though. If I beat you, would you give me proof that you exist?"

Now, though his pokémon knew that he was going to do something brazen, they were expecting him to ask for a feather as proof instead of challenging the bird. Their eyes widened in alarm as they tried pleading the bird for clemency—all except Charizard, who roared in challenge.

His answer was met in a cry that resembled the crackling of a destroyed power line. He could hear it inside as the acrid smell expanded past the room, a wave of uneasiness moving through his body. The little light that had been slipping through the windows had been suppressed as dark clouds rolled into themselves outside. Within seconds these popcorn-shaped nuggets expanded into an invading fleet of battleships. Rumbling rebelled against the thin rooms. The electric-type pokémon scattered backwards for any type of cover.

They didn't need light. With another screech, the bird's wingtips had become the ridges of a parhelion, beak a brilliant crown flash piercing into the moody grays of the factory floor. Amidst this light which reflected off the muddy rudders and the crackling that slid off its feathers, the distant booms as lightning bolts freely showered onto the innocent mountaintops and the cowering battlers who had taken refuge in the factory's lobby, the cheering horde of wild pokémon that had backed up against the opposite wall, the Magnemites who had been swept away by their comrades so no collateral damage swept them up, Zapdos dove.

Everyone similarly scattered in different angles. It didn't matter how fast their reaction times were when the bird had already chosen its target. Little Eevee's paws brusquely smacked against the bird's beak as it was carried into the air. The attacks trailing after it came shortly after. Though the hallway was pinched much further down to give him too much room to maneuver, Red got his first look at a pokémon that was beyond elite level when the wall of projectiles couldn't even catch up to the bird's flight.

A single flap stalled its momentum, a second one shooting it back towards the attacks. The icicles were easy enough for it to weave between, blasts of fire that took up entire quarters of the room dodged, trail of water that attempted to herd it failing to keep a steady aim on the bird. A jerk of its head sent Eevee flying out a window as it charged towards its next target.

The team realized what its game was however. Before it could reach Pikachu, a barrel of fire intercepted its flight. Zapdos stalled for a mere fraction of a second before taking as high to the roof as possible, dodging yet another rapid fire of icicles.

The bird tilted its angle, belly sailing near the ceiling as the various mechanics provided cover for its escape. Any projectiles that slipped past the girders and pipes were easily dodged, barely worth a tilt of its body since none interrupted its flight path. Zapdos swung around as it became ready to dive towards its next target.

A beam of fire smelted straight through the ceiling in front of the bird's path. Gigantic swathes of the place became a ravine where melted metal was dribbling down. Zapdos stalled itself with a single flap, not having a chance to squawk in surprise as another legion of attacks had been sent where they predicted it to stop. Whatever it may have had in mind was interrupted when a tiny ember flickered to its death on the ceiling, quickly expanding in size as the explosion took out a chunk of the ceiling.

It was knocked back for a single second before a furious cry heralded a thunderbolt. Red had seen lightning. He'd seen pokémon's thunderbolts. None compared to the distance shot, the size that seemed to be a giant's sword knocking Blastoise into the wall, instantly fainted. The rest of the group paused their attacks in shock, glancing at their ally who'd been downed in a single hit.

That was the last mistake that Venusaur made, getting swept off his feet by a hurricane greater than any he'd felt before. Spirits of wind lifted by his belly and threw him aside. Leaves and vines were sheared, the pokémon laying flat on his back with his tongue lolled out. Another flash precipitating a bolt of lightning made Lapras raise a shield they'd made together. Mist surrounded the pokémon right as the lightning struck. Instantly a horrific sound like a skyscraper's entire wall collapsing resounded. Thousands of miniature icicles that connected in a dense web, complicated enough only an ice-type pokémon could make it to such a mastered degree, shattered as the mist thinned.

Stunned, Lapras hurriedly put up a protect, hexagons of light appearing in front of her that absorbed the electricity before it could wrap around her figure. A warbling cry broke out from her throat. The center hexagon shattered and she was blasted to the wall too.

Zapdos didn't seem too bothered by the red missile that nearly took its head clean off. Pillars of smoke flew out its nostrils, the pokémon angrily glaring down his opponent as he swung around in a wide arc. Fire sprouted from his skin that quickly wrapped around his entire body, leaving only the eyes sticking out from beyond the veil. His wild arcs worked around his opponent's lightning bolts meant to keep him at bay, and the spectators were treated to a fight abusing the full range of movement special to those who could fly. Charizard's comparatively lumbering wings didn't matter when he was a deadly force for existing, and Zapdos' faster speed was mitigated by the occasional explosions that would herd it towards the meteor. They swung around each other, planets in orbit. The team who wanted to help were forced back as the gigantic cones of fire would wipe away chunks of the room, making it unsafe even hanging back. Reds and yellows strobed out the windows into the stormy evening.

A single shot too wide and Charizard was careening towards the ceiling. It was corrected when he yanked himself back, belly nearly scraping against the ceiling like Zapdos had done earlier. The brief moment of breathing room gave Zapdos the perfect moment to start flapping its wings harshly. The debris on the floor was picked up as the wind funneled through the tunnel. Charizard's fiery armor turned into streamers flying behind him like tin cans tied to a newly wed's car. An angered roar came with the same blasts of fire that could envelop small towns, yet the plume had only managed to spray beyond his mouth before getting caught in the wind too. His furious wingbeats managed to keep him floating in place and that was only just. Dry wind forced itself down his nostrils and throat. The slight changes in direction made him wobble in the air.

Then came the prickles that worked down his body. His eyes widened despite the gusts drying them out, pain washing over his eyelids and over his brain. The light emitting from Zapdos was reaching a fever pitch.

A brown missile slammed into Zapdos' side. Eevee's claws raked a line across the bird's base, the momentum allowing her to land far away from any would-be retaliation. The bird quickly regained its position, only to be forced to dodge again by another pillar of fire. It quickly expanded to become a cone, then a storm that enveloped the entire ceiling. Whatever attack Zapdos was charging was fully abandoned as it was forced to duck low.

Its eyes locked on the pokémon that was supposed to be its next prey. The mass of metal that had been inert for decades had been repurposed, used for the electric-type pokémon to generate greater voltages for them to enjoy. It wasn't meant to have its wires hooked up to a Pikachu, a vindictive Eevee smirking as it ducked for cover.

Red was behind a barrel, barely peeking over as his pokémon started glowing an incandescent blue. It was a complete bluff. If they fed electricity into the machine, then it'd be lost somewhere along the line and feed back into Pikachu with less than what was invested; he paid attention to science somewhat. Law of Something Demands, or whatever Oak called it.

They assumed that Zapdos would dodge out of panic and provide an opportunity for Charizard to capitalize on. Instead the pokémon's glow became more intense for a brief moment before the power was channeled down an invisible route. Lightning was upon Pikachu within a split second. Knowing that he didn't have a choice, Pikachu met the bolt in the center. It wasn't the final attacks between two rivals that one would expect, as there was no obvious line demarcating where Pikachu's and Zapdos' bolts became one or the other. It was a jagged break in reality, leading from the plumage of Zapdos to the heart of Pikachu. Both had yellow auras that slowly expanded. One was quickly forced into a kneel as an invisible battle was carried out, weak gasps coming out with slobber that drizzled out into quickly evaporated chunks.

Light overcame the room. The bridge only became bigger, and the sound of active electricity terrified those who were watching. Their eyes locked through the searing pain. Zapdos had a position of smug superiority, flapping itself higher above Pikachu as free-flowing arcs leapt onto the surrounding pieces of metal. Pants became heavier and heavier. Drips of power, arcs stinging off the ceilings and walls and floor, were forced out in a battle that he knew he was losing. He knew that he was the weakest of them all, only having the advantage of taking down flying-types the easiest until Lapras came along. He knew that it was unimaginable for his benchmark to be the most powerful electric-type in the world. He didn't care that it was unrealistic and he didn't care that he was outmatched. As long as Charizard got an opportunity to do a free attack, Pikachu didn't care. His world melted away until the lightning bolt was the last piece left behind. That's all that mattered.

The bolt shuddered. It became bigger, then bigger again. It swelled to heights that made even Zapdos nervous. Little shards leapt from the main body that created thunderclaps pounding against the room's walls. Charizard ducked behind cover as he was nearly shocked. Above them was an epileptic tangle, threatening to transform the entire room into a pylon if it continued expanding.

Pikachu knew it wasn't going to last. There wasn't an evolution around the corner and he didn't have a hidden well of strength. All he could do was push with the last of his strength. The lightning bolt was no longer growing out of control. The limbs wrapped back into the main body as the lightning they were juggling became ever bigger. The pokémon smirked defiantly up at Zapdos, even as he started laying on his belly.

Zapdos knew however that the job was done: the very second that Pikachu had regained control, his teammates had started crawling out from their hiding places. Eevee was glowing as stars started orbiting her body. From behind there was a furious Charizard, fire growing in his mouth greater than any attack thrown thus far. On the other end of the room, icicles formed around the Lapras who had barely managed to cling to consciousness. If it stopped struggling against the lightning then it'd be redirected by Pikachu.

Zapdos' eyes closed for a long blink, then silence. The lightning ceased as it gently lowered itself down to the ground. The pokémon that were going to assault it paused, looking around in question as the bird started preening itself.

Only Red understood what had happened. He walked out of his cover with his hands clasped behind his back, a grimace to try to keep himself serious. He stood underneath the legendary whose presence no longer felt so oppressive. Either it could be 'turned off' or he'd gotten used to it. He knew that telling Professor Oak about it would have the man going into lunacy.

"You held back," he wryly said. "You definitely were in a bad spot there, though there were plenty of opportunities where you could've pushed your advantage more. Charizard could've been shocked out of the sky at any point in your dogfight and you could've opened up with more electric-type and flying-type attacks. You merely didn't because you wanted it to last longer, and even then we barely made this last for five minutes."

Red could've sworn that the bird's eyes were full of mischief however. Hands on his hips, Red couldn't stop the grin from spreading.

"But we fought you and didn't immediately lose and Pikachu—" he cut himself off, glancing back at the smoking body that had keeled over the second the fight ended—"Pikachu fought you off. Can't say that it's, it's—"

Red cut himself off with a whoop, punching the air in an excited fervor. Looking around wouldn't show why he was so happy as nearly half his pokémon were slumped over and the others were heaving from exertion. Only Eevee managed to walk to his trainer's side, glancing up in confusion.

Red pointed up to the bird.

"You better not avoid us. We're going to get stronger, and we're going to beat you. We're going to train, and if we're still not strong enough, then we'll train some more and come back. We're going to beat you, Zapdos! You're the wall that we'll overcome!"

Chuffing in amusement, a spiked wing flung out. The feather was snatched out of the air before it could dirty itself on the floor. The quill started with a bone-like white at the tip that transitioned into a mustard yellow, the gradient between that and the shocking yellow so sudden that he held it closer to see the individual colors lost in the shift. The top half transitioned into the same yellow as the vanes. Above a certain point, the barbs became uniform enough to create sharp edges. The tip of the fluff was the culmination, turned into a quill with how tightly the edges were sharpened. Turning the feather over nearly made him drop it in surprise. Black, sharp as a tuxedo, colored the other side with the shaft turning black in the same fashion as the other side.

Red gently stuffed it into his backpack. Zapdos had lowered itself down, giving him a meaningful look. He looked at the pokémon's back and then back to the pokémon's eyes and then back to the pokémon's back again. His team was recalled except for Eevee, who looked absolutely terrified to be secured with Red's unsteady hands. As for himself, he could admit that his heart was hammering in awesomeness.

He doubted that it was through any reasonable mechanics that they lifted into the air smoother than any mount that he'd had the privilege of riding on. It was a gentle sway, only the crackles of a thunderstorm indicating that they had begun liftoff. As they swung out at speeds requiring any other pokémon plenty of liftoff, Red could only tightly clench into his seat as the air brushed past his body like thousands of blades. Eevee was screeching as the hallways were cruised down as with the full control only a helicopter could mimic. Any smaller outcroppings that made the place into an obstacle course were swerved around with the bird barely letting out a huff of exertion.

Eventually there was a hole punched through the ceiling coincidentally big enough for the bird to fit through. This time it summoned a gust of air that swung it upwards, like an air balloon hitting a draft. They flew through the hole as perfectly as a puzzle piece. Red's breath was held for a moment. He regretted it when the sudden speed stole the air. Entire swathes of the region that would've taken him multiple days to walk became indistinct the higher they went, the faster the bird shot forwards. Red didn't fully comprehend that until Eevee was spitting out clumps of clouds that sucked into her throat. Cleaving through the storm clouds that had barely existed for ten minutes was a supersonic UFO. They moved as a zipper, open skies disintegrating the black clouds until there wasn't a hint of the storm that happened.

Mt. Moon was his centering point. First they were approaching it, then it grew distant as the ocean grew nearer. When they reached an imaginary point where the bird's keen eyes could clearly discern, the world became a series of long streaks as they lost altitude. Both of them screeched in fear as they moved faster than any elevator would ever attempt. It had to be the end, surely. Even if they stopped, the carried momentum would surely streak their organs into a pretty splash of color.

Even that was defied. The bird stopped just high enough for it to reach its claws into the ground. A small gaggle of onlookers held their ice creams in front of their mouths, some mid lick. Red slowly dismounted, trying to ignore the shuddering limbs that couldn't support him properly. Eevee had fully given up, splattering out in a bundle of fur immediately upon hitting the ground. Their breaths came out in sputtering gasps. Zapdos seemed entirely too amused.

Red bowed and nearly fell over. "Um, thank you for the ride."

The bird squawked in greeting and flew up. He didn't really look around. His body's movements became automatic. Recall Eevee. Pokecenter? Sure. Walk inside. Nurse talk. Give pokémon that were turned into jerky. Go inside and sleep on provided bed. Eight o' clock? Red wanted sleep. So he slept.

Yet the region didn't go to sleep. That twenty, thirty—who was counting?—minute period of time was mistaken as a strange sound at most points of the region, those nearest remembering the crazy strong electric-type that briefly smothered the sky. It was a matter of those who knew, knew.

At the far reaches south of what was barely under Kanto's jurisdiction, helping Lane to gather all the equipment that he needed, Blaine kept a sharp eye on his instruments that had been inert for years. He wasn't looking forward to writing the reports that triangulate where the massive power spike came from; the way that the needles moved told him that putting off the maintenance made the machines spit out nonsense variables in the middle of real ones.

At a familiar gym where he'd been meditating, Koga cracked open an eye at the distant sound. A grimace crossed his face. Since he hadn't heard of any other absurdly powerful trainer or actionable plan to catch the legendary, he already had a good idea of who that was.

Clear across from that town, Lance was nuzzled in his seat preparing for a long night of overtime, fake overtime since he'd be the only one who knew it was happening. The flashless boom in a cloudless sky made him pause. A few calls afterwards and he was chuckling, trying to remember the last time that somebody challenged a legendary.

Professor Oak didn't register the sound. He was too busy preparing tea the way that he liked it, all of his focus in balancing the proportions. It was only when an assistant walked in, grumbling about the boom shocking him into spilling an energy drink on his shirt, that Oak started laughing.

"Well, I wasn't expecting him to go that far. I guess we're due for a new Champion anyways," he said. The bewildered look from his employee made Professor Oak laugh again.

Smack in the center of the region was Erika and two of her employees sitting seiza, talking over tea. The explosion outside interrupted them. An employee double-checked that there wasn't a storm happening and came back inside without an explanation. Shrugging off the incident, they continued talking.

Marley just happened to have emerged. She nudged off the goggles, double-checking to make sure that she wasn't about to be zapped when trying to dive. Perfection—not a cloud in the sky.

"Not the one that I'm looking for, but—" she shook her head to get rid of the thought. The sigh was impossible to suppress. "If there's somebody else looking for legendaries then I should start seriously looking. Ah well. It was a nice vacation."

Red woke up feeling amazing. He brushed his teeth, brushed back his hair before putting his favorite cap on, had a terrific breakfast and had a great conversation with the Nurse Joy who confirmed that all his pokémon were feeling fine. It was like walking through a dream. There was enough time that he could use the internet to send a few calls from the pokémon center's phone, acting coy with Professor Oak and unloading his exciting month to his equally enthusiastic mom. The nurse was strangely vague and the lobby was completely empty, but it completely glided underneath his attention with how great of a day he was having. He swaggered out the front door with a slight smile facing the world.

Walking out the front door bombarded him with a healthy dose of sunshine that cleaned off the last dredges of sleep still clinging to his shoulders. Red stretched, barely managing to take a step outside before he came underneath a shadow. There was an entire crowd surrounding the front door with their phones absent-mindedly taking pictures of something above him.

The mystery was solved when a plume of air brushed against his loose clothing. Red lowered his cap and turned around, almost feeling like his parents were embarrassing him at school. All he could see were the claws digging into the packed dirt.

There was an invisible barrier that had been set up, created by the trainers of the gym with their leader heading the charge. Surge didn't seem intimidated by the legendary. Barely a raised eyebrow changed his stony face as he got closer. From the cross arms and stiff shoulders, Red couldn't imagine the man was very happy. It didn't help that Surge was built like a skyscraper, hardy boots prepared to stomp down on a pipsqueak like a hammer on a nail.

Surge stood in front of him with a wry smile. "Is this your bird?"

Red double-checked that Zapdos' holy wrath wasn't about to smite the whole town. "Not really? He just wants to show me something, I believe."

He wasn't going to be presumptuous and say that the bird would get caught by him. He wouldn't accept it anyways; if he was catching Zapdos, then it would be after he genuinely won a fight.

"So the legendary bird has become a tour guide for you." A laugh was chuffed out, his brick-shaped head shaking. "What're your plans? What badge are you on?"

"Um, my sixth, Surge—"

"Lt. Surge, boy. My town, my rules. When you're my superior, you can call me whatever you want, but here in my town you're calling me by my full title."

Red merely blinked. "Lt. Surge, Zapdos just brought me here. I think that he, or her, wants to bring me somewhere else. After I'm done here I'm going to try fighting against the Elite Four."

He looked back to verify. The bird lowered down again, ready to be mounted.

A heavy hand perched on his shoulder. Staring him down were two burning orbs, the passion behind those blue eyes hotter than what Red was comfortable with.

"Yeah. Yeah, you'll do fine. You're blessed by one of the legendary birds themselves. If you weren't going to finish right away then I would've dragged you there myself." A heavy smack sent Red stumbling. "Go! If you've got the bird's respect then I don't want to see your face again until you've stared down the Champion. Win or lose, stop stalling! There's nothing else that's gonna give you a challenge until you've brought the Elite Four down onto their knees. We'll fight again when you're finished. I'll show you why I was a runner up back when we were figuring out the newest member of the Elite Four."

Bewildered, Red followed the orders and leapt on the bird's back. Surge yelled up another encouragement.

"I'm rooting for you, Red! We need a real Kanto patriot up in the Champion's seat and there's nobody better than you alive right now. Go get 'im!"

It was Zapdos who followed the command instead. Away they flew, just as wildly as before. Red's head was churning with too much information for him to reasonably make conversation, and any attempt to parse through his feelings was allayed in favor of enjoying the moment. There went Kanto, all his adventures flying below him as they were at their destination within an hour, less than an hour—Red's mind was too scrambled for complicated calculations.

They flew straight over the bands of light that glimmered below them, towards the chain of islands that sat off south from Kanto's coast. They were close enough to be manageable (swimmable, of which there was an annual Dewgong Cup where humans would attempt to swim to and back from Cinnabar within two days. This was the most traffic that Cinnabar saw all year.) yet too far for their highest buildings to be visible from the furthest coasts. Zapdos began circling around a smaller chunk of land, twin mountains that hardly had a coast to speak of. Red knew they had names but couldn't dredge them up.

Once again they dropped like a rock. Right above the slithering waves they hovered, claws briefly gracing the sands and repositioning further uphill. Red hardly leapt off the pokémon's back before the sparkling started again. Turning around barely let him catch the yellow dot before it got lost amidst the clouds.

Red could assume why he was left there. Searching around eventually found a cave network. Climbing down deep into the islands' surprisingly tangled ecosystem based on the birds' suggestion never got him discouraged no matter how many dead ends he smashed into. Placid waters awaited him at the lowest points, letting him ride on the back of Lapras as they continued searching.

His breath was visible. Whether naturally or through some other means, the cavern felt subzero. Deep within the islands was a frozen paradise that could've been a photo of thousands of years ago if not for the ladder dropped down into a man made hole drilled through the ice. Ice-types happily walked around in the comfortable temperature while everything else struggled to feel their noses. He hugged the neck of Lapras for security while his legs were hiked on one of his pokémon's outcropped shell pieces. Even touching the water once would force him to call the trip off to warm up at the surface.

He was so close. The bird's wings became visible past the icy wall. Red's heart started beating wildly. More and more of it was revealed. Its full majesty was gently floating above a flat piece of land.

There was a lawn chair laid out beneath the bird with somebody drinking a can of soda. His pokémon was at the foot of it fanning a giant leaf, not looking bothered by the manual labor as she was too busy gawking at the legendary hovering above them. Said legendary was staring back with amusement more than anything. Apparently the legendary birds universally had a sense of humor.

Lane made a laborious movement as if he'd been sitting there for ages.

"Hey, Red. Isn't this place pretty," Lane lowered his sunglasses, "cool?"

Chapter Text

With his cap in one hand, Red scratched his head in abject confusion. The room was kept too cool for comfort, and the white-theme didn't help separating it from a freezer. Air conditioning billowed. The impassive faces of the computers didn't mind. Neither did the man in a lab coat. There were counters built into each of the rooms as somebody long ago had made the terrible decision of either making a lab into a gym or a gym into a lab. He was typing away on the glowing screen while standing at the far side of the room, occasionally taking a sip from the steaming cup positioned on the opposite side of his mouse.

The keyboard that he'd been forced to interact with was connected to a bulky white body, nearly stretched to the ceiling, as the little keyboard stuck out like the lip of a pouting child. It had more in common with an ATM with its thick plastic skin made for punishment. Scratches inflicted on the bulbous body from earlier frustrated trainers had intimidated Red when he first saw it.

The display kept flickering. Not that it made the question any harder to read. He'd memorized it down to the punctuation.

"If we create an equation where the amount of known Kanto-native grass/poison types are added to the amount of known Kanto-native poison/ground types, subtract with the amount of known Kanto-native sole fire-types, multiply with the known Kanto-native sole dragon-types, then what number would we come to?"

Well, Red thought naively ten minutes ago, that was easy. He had the pokédex for a reason. Just searching them up would give him the answers. It all came with the way that the sentence was worded. First was sole—as in, only typed with fire. So he got that wrong. Then came the fact that he forgot all the exact evolutions that led to the dual typings and resolved to request a search bar to find pokémon when he saw Professor Oak. Then he realized that he had the wrong amount of dragon-types too, as that also had 'sole' behind it.

So the equation that he was looking at was 9 + 2 - 10 x 2, he was pretty sure. Frustrated after getting his legitimate solutions denied, he typed in a random number. Beep! The screen flashed 'ERROR' with a frowny face at the bottom. When he tried typing another number, there was a slight delay. Having another wrong answer took an entire minute before resetting into the anxious blinking line. The machine was made purposely languid. To his horror, typing in another (educated) guess made it stall for another two minutes.

No hints were forthcoming. He was either getting the pokémon wrong, reading the question wrong, doing the math wrong, misunderstanding the question, and nobody was going to help him. Red slumped against the keyboard, fingers working into his knotted hair in frustration.

Giggles came from the other side of the camera when he started kicking the machine. Marley stood behind the boys acting like schoolchildren, frowning.

"I'm sorry for doubting you, sir! I thought that this would be the easiest question, but obviously I've got things to learn," Lane said between chortles.

Blaine's snickers kept interrupting his sentence. "It's-It's-It's a big problem when you think about it. Trainers being the most mathematically illiterate group in society has been an undying trend. This is a sticking point that he'll have to fix once ascending to the rank. Champions aren't all about battling! From the simplest problem of correctly counting to knowing the order of operations, hopefully this gives him a kick in the butt to learn!"

Marley's frown only deepened when another round of uproarious laughter came up when Red started clenching the keyboard.

"This is a bit too mean-spirited for me."

Lane turned around. "What? Making fun of Red not having any math skills?"

She didn't offer any other explanation. The little corner that they had made to spectate the challenger became awkward, just watching as the boy slammed down onto the keyboard and got reprimanded by the scientist.

Blaine wasn't one to leave things be. "You misunderstand something. How far can mean-spiritedness be carried? Making fun of a friend hitting their head on a door frame, doing pranks, isn't meant to cause long-lasting harm. There's no issue with getting a little entertainment from something that is ultimately harmless."

"But it isn't harmless, is it? You're making their day worse."

"Marginally worse. At the end of the day, annoying our Champion-to-be with this question for twenty minutes isn't going to do much except make him briefly annoyed." Blaine gestured to the blinking red screen. "Besides, haven't you heard of tough love? That's what my gym is. For the most part, you can do any other gym in any order. Getting out to Cinnabar either means that you have the money to pay for a ferry or have surfed out here. Only dedicated trainers come here. If you can't answer a few questions, then you don't have any business being an ace trainer."

"Is there something more to being an ace trainer than just being good?" Lane asked.

Both of them looked indignant that he even implied that. Blaine was the one who responded. "Of course there is! I'm sure that your point of confusion is the same as anybody else's, so let me correct that faulty assumption: gym leaders aren't meant to be the pinnacle of trainers; rather, they're meant to be cultivating the next few generations of genius trainers. Ace trainers are the ones who are meant to be the human font of our knowledge on pokémon. Gym leaders are a way for us to always have people in hand to defend against great threats relating to pokémon and acting as a rite of passage."

"Isn't the champion supposed to be the strongest?" Lane asked.

"That's different," Marley interjected. "When someone challenges the gyms and beats them all, it's with the intention of proving that they're competent trainers. When someone challenges the Elite 4 and Champion, it's with the intention of proving that they're the best of the best. It's no big deal when an ace trainer is better than a gym leader, since the gym leaders are also selected to be of varying power levels, and even the best are strapped down to their responsibilities rather than solely training. This is pretty universal. Back home, most of the weaker gym leaders picked up serious training later in their—oh."

The door finally wooshed open. Red stomped through.

Blaine grabbed his strap of pokéballs and hastily threw them over his shoulder while running out of the room. The other two followed along, not minding being a little later to the arena behind Blaine's personal lab. It was about the most generic room that Lane could imagine. Three seat high bleachers surrounded the red arena that was slightly recessed into the ground. The surface itself was a near-monoculture of tennis court smoothness, the friction on top feeling nearly magical since it was a completely flat surface. It was a pale red like faded bricks. Perfect white lines needed maintenance more often for the wears of time rather than battle.

"Pemdas!" Blaine yelled.

Red didn't respond. Neither of the spectators were interested in the fight. Marley still couldn't think of the kid as an elite trainer yet and Lane knew it was a foregone conclusion.

To that end, his head lolled over to the girl sitting next to him.

"So what're you even doing in this obscure corner of Kanto?"

"What are you doing here?" she countered.

A flush of heat overcame the arena, sunny day. God rays shone when there weren't even any windows, only gigantic vents smattered around the ceiling that had thick red blades swirling beneath grates. Dying of smoke inhalation would've been too ironic for Blaine to accept.

"Waiting for him." Lane pointed down at the arena. Already starting with Charizard, the pokémon fully abused the boost to his fire-type attacks by creating entire whirlwinds of fire that quickly overtook the Ninetales. "I've been following him around. I think that's going to stop soon enough."

"Why?"

"'Cause I think if he challenged me right now then he'd rip straight through my little cute pokémon." He called out Lulu and held her out for emphasis. An instinctive fear made her warily watch the wall of fire that was expanding to cover the whole field. "C'mon, big sis! You're awfully closed off, which ain't that weird with how quiet you are, but it makes a guy curious!"

"You really are?"

"I really am."

"Hm." Marley looked back to the battle for a distraction. Blaine's pokémon couldn't match the sheer power that created an unbearable heat simmering her tear film. "Sorry. I guess that it's because I'm doing something pretty ridiculous that I don't like talking about it. Even some of my family gives me grief over it. I just don't trust somebody that I've only known for two weeks to be nicer than people that I've known my entire life. Sorry."

Lulu leapt from Lane's grip onto his shoulder. Sitting down, she just nodded to herself in wonder. It was fun being so high, but she preferred moving with her own two feet.

Lane sighed, scratching the back of his hand. "Ain't the opinion of a random trainer less important than of people you've known for longer?"

"It still hurts all the same," Marley simply replied back.

With a shrug, he decided that it was a lost cause. "You're going somewhere after this, right? Maybe I'll keep an eye out for you. Show that I'm not just gonna be mean to your dreams or whatever. Least I could do. S'not like my own are sophisticated or whatever; I just like traveling."

A measured gaze tried ripping the truth out of him. Eventually she said, "I'll be in the area of Vermillion for a while after this."

"Then we'll see each other there."

Despite the rising heat, he felt a chill settle on his back. The sneeze was so violent that Lulu had to wrap her arms around his head to keep herself stable.

The fight's conclusion was already decided when Red had been messed with. The badge that flitted through his fingers didn't alleviate any of the annoyance, especially when the ferry ride he took back had another annoyance riding alongside him.

Just one day more, both of them knew.

Lane kicked his feet in the air, bored, inside the sterile atmosphere. Bookshelves behind him that rose beyond any normal person's height were filled from wall to wall with esoteric knowledge. 'Mating Behaviors of Pikachu Within Varying Environments' and 'Writings on the Johto Theory of Evolution' sat beside each other without knowing how intimidating they were. Overlaid like lobby music was buzzing that came from the various machines. Only a hallway leading straight to the professor's desk was afforded complete cleanliness. The rest of the room was dirtied with knowledge competing for attention, against the aides who were doing their work on magic steel boxes. Lane guessed that they were actually working quite hard despite the movements having an exhausted weight to them; two hadn't moved since greeting the visitors as they were too busy reading. It was wholly unsuited for his personality and he normally would've left.

Quiet musings were cut short when two people came through the front door. The vaunted professor of the region looked delighted since they came, though Lane suspected that was the professor's resting expression. The gray, clean hair gave him a distinguished look when paired with the lab coat. He was almost tempted to compare the man to Blaine, which wouldn't be fair. One was an actual distinguished professor while the other lived like an enlightened hermit on an isolated island, and being part of the League obviously didn't provide enough work or money to keep them up considering that every leader had a side gig.

Red looked as though his entire day had been ruined when Lane caught his eye. A wink. A glare.

Professor Oak was brimming with energy as he bounced the pokédex between hands like a hot potato. All the papers that had piled up on the desk were neatly arranged and put away—carelessness led to lost documents and frustration—so he could access the keyboard to his computer. A wire connected the two, opening a litany of applications only used by high-tier nerds. Neither of the boys attempted making conversation as the professor went about clicking little gray boxes with numbers on them.

"So what's up, doc? This pokédex thing seems important but what're you doing to it?" he asked, more out of boredom than curiosity.

Professor Oak smiled at the question, always ready to answer anything. "The pokédex has a feature that I didn't exactly advertise since it's only becoming a reality right now: access to an online database for every pokémon that we know of. It will include all the basic information that anyone, trainer or otherwise, would need to deal with a wild pokémon. It'll be updated with new information and keep everyone's pokédex up to our current best understanding, so that even offline you can make use of the scanning function. Due to memory constraints we weren't able to include every feature we wanted, which I'm hoping we can solve with further tweaking."

Red nearly choked on his saliva. Lane just shrugged to pretend that he was somewhat impressed. "That's gonna be a big deal."

"It will be," Professor Oak said confidently. "Regions have long been locked out of information from each other, and even within regions it's very hard to find reliable information on pokémon that aren't seen from day to day. Do either of you know what Ghastly tend to do? Many don't know that there's evolutions for common pokémon that we see everyday. This will go a long way in educating trainers on how to deal with wild pokémon they've never seen before, rangers to have detailed pictures on unfamiliar tracks they've found in the forest, civilians buying it to learn more about the world around them."

The professor's voice became more fervent the more that he talked about it. No matter how gray his hair was, the youthful passion had Lane bouncing on his heels too.

"You sound so excited that I can't wait for this to be finished too!" Lane exclaimed.

Oak managed to flash back a smile without his typing pace slowing a single character.

"This was a team project. Though it was my vision to realize, I couldn't have done it without Red, Blue, and all my assistants who are working here. It was through their efforts that we will have the first public version of the pokédex released once we integrate this data with the information that we already had on these pokémon. And, I still can't believe it, we have two confirmed data entires for the Winged Mirages after all this time! Confirmed sightings! Thank you, Red, for making his pokédex as complete as we possibly could!" Professor Oak said, even more excited than before.

"Thank you for giving me the chance. It really made me think about why I was a trainer. I wouldn't have thought about looking for so many pokémon otherwise," Red said, slightly bashful.

"You're welcome, and I'll say thank you again. It's all of you who I'm thanking! With just a little more work we will revolutionize the world!"

Weak cheers came from the other scientists.

Lane got bored just watching a cursor click buttons that did things he didn't know, leaving him with free reign over the laboratory. Sitting inside a cylinder, rebuffing jealous gazes, were pokéballs sitting in plush pillows. Little sticky notes on the side confirmed that they were starters, little scrawls of the trainers who were slated to receive them. A table with empty pokéballs was barren of anything except notes on various pokémon around the region. A closer look and sharp mind would realize that the normal notes based on current knowledge were written in black while the corrections that the scientists had found were written in red; Lane couldn't keep his eyes still and he rarely wanted to use his mind. Behind the lab was a small field that led to a much larger property where all the pokémon were kept. Glancing out the window on the back wall would allow him to see a Weezing sticking out the front of a Grimer.

The computer completed the transfer with a happy ding. Professor Oak pushed away from the desk and handed the pokédex to Red.

"Thank you for everything, Red. Now go on. You've got a Champion's position to win."

Red tipped his hat down and walked out. Before Lane could follow, he was stopped by a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"I believe that we have some things to talk about."

Lane acquiesced with a shrug. "Sure. What's on your mind?"

"I've heard a little about you. We're quite a traditional region, so it's not often that you see modern technology used often. It's why the League still hasn't made it standard to use computers for all our work." Professor Oak gained a wistful tone as he stared at nothing. "So many wasted hours that could've been cut down if we went digital."

"That sucks, man."

Oak was taken into another world of letters, of progress reports towards League-funded projects, of hours that he spent away from the work that he was truly passionate about. Decades ago he'd been complaining as much as anybody else about the aches that came with doing that much extra writing. Age and repetition had dulled the hatred into routine. Yet thinking about all the time that he could've saved sending reports through emails rather than the Slowpoke service was enough to nearly make him cry.

"We're used to it. The point that I'm trying to make is that communication between League members is more sparse compared to other regions. We're behind on some things, but well enough that we can still talk around. Blaine said you had a great mind for riddles. Erika said you were a pleasant personality from what she knew of you." That was a bit of a white lie since her exact words were saying that Lane thought himself a comedian, but Oak wasn't about to start a teenager war. "I believe that your stunt in Fuschia has given you the position of town pariah."

Before Lane could make a sarcastic remark, he sneezed. Waving off the professor's concern, he said, "ah! That's the consequences of sticking around an ice cave for a few hours. You were saying?"

"My point is that you seem to be a fine lad and a fine trainer who's friendly enough that you'll talk with others during your journey. That's not universal! Many slide by towns with only their teams as their friends, not remembering the human side of this world we share. You're also one of the only foreigners who currently know of the pokédex's existence. In the light of this being completed soon, I'd like for you to have one of your own."

The machine traded hands. Lane hefted it around. The build was slightly clunky. Its red, plastic surface was a bit too big for his hands when the keyboard part unfolded. The buttons to scroll through the interface were a bit too clunky and unconventional. Still, he was holding a piece of history in his hands. It was slid into his bag.

"Thanks. This'll be helpful," Lane said. Another white lie slid in since Lane already had most of what he needed to know memorized. Remembering tiny details didn't seem too impressive, but it was better to have one than not. It could be a collector's item in the coming years too.

"Let me explain in a little more detail: many complications already exist, such as the issue with distant regions connecting with a database that we're currently only hosting here, but we've managed to finagle a solution so that they aren't completely out to dry while we work on a permanent solution. Along with that is an advanced AI that can recognize pokémon through the camera. Its ability isn't to be underestimated, as we've worked on it for years at this point and are holding it past our original deadline to fine tune the problems. Does this sound impressive?"

Technology that bordered on magic and AI when he'd seen more horseshoe poles than computers. Impressive was a word that could be used interchangeably with nonsensical and more insulting words that Lane didn't have the vocabulary to say.

"Sure."

"And that if the effects weren't useful, then at the very least the individual parts like the AI are?"

"Yeah."

"And have you heard a single person excited that it's coming out?"

This was implying the same thing as if normal people would be excited about a new GPU being released on the market. Cool, for the hyper-niche audience that'd know about it, whereas others wouldn't know that the GPU has a pluggy bit that goes into the computer with the other pluggy bit.

This time Oak didn't wait for an answer. "What we're focused on at the moment is exposure. We need people willing to spread the word outside of science circles."

"You want me to be a walking advertisement," Lane said wryly.

"Essentially, yes. At the moment, nobody except those in the academic world truly know the capabilities of the pokédex. If you could use it often enough that curiosity spreads, then I'll be grateful."

"You got it. It'll be a worldwide sensation if I've got anything to say about it." Without further stalling, Lane ran off. "Thanks for the thingie! I've got to catch up with Red!"

The last words of the professor were drowned out as he ran out the door. To his surprise, Red was standing in front of the lab. His hands were casually hanging at his sides. The entirety of Pallet Town could be seen behind him. A rush of air rustled through their hair. The whole scene had Lane chuckling.

"I can beat you now," Red said.

It took a bit before Lane swallowed the last bits of humor.

"Meaning you want to fight," Lane said.

"Yes."

Red reached for his pokéballs. Lane called it off with a single wave of his hand.

"You don't have to battle. Look at us, Red. You had already surpassed me during our last fight. If you stuck with it, I wouldn't have won."

Red didn't like that answer, a genuine frown splitting his face as if that were the worst news he'd ever been given.

"Are you sad we're—" Lane's sentence was ripped by a heavy sneeze. He ignored the look and continued, sniffling, "that we're no longer gonna be traveling together?"

"No. I'm sad because I feel cheated out of a fight," he said.

Lane laughed again. "Go whet your appetite on the Elite Four instead! They're waiting for you! I'm sure that beating all of them will be more exciting than beating a trainer with only three pokémon. But before you go, want some last bits of advice? Since I won't be going to Victory Road with you, you can consider this a parting gift from yours truly."

Red intensely stared at the person in front of him. He wanted to say something that encapsulated all his feelings from wasting his time down in Fuschia, filling the blissful silence with annoying conversation that even Lane didn't care about when they walked between cities, and all the tiny things that had gotten on his nerves from when the boy's mask came off. He wanted to say that he was beyond help. It wasn't merely people saying things anymore; with a team that he'd trained from the ground up strapped to his side, Red had fought against legendary pokémon without instantly losing. He was beyond accepting help from two-bit trainers that were around the five badge level. He wanted to be proud.

It had to slide out through his clenching throat and shuddering teeth. "Tell me."

Lane, not understanding the internal dilemma at all, laughed. It was meant to show how casual he was. It dug in the ignominy deeper.

"I've got a few for you: your little Pikachu looked like he was going to blow his top off last time I saw him. I think that he's been holding back his evolution for a while. Either get that sorted out or buy yourself an eviolite. Next, uh, you can evolve your Eevee into something or hold onto it until the pokémon evolves by itself. There'll be a little surprise if you do that. Your team ain't too good against steel and poison-types, but it's not like Eevee's going to get ground-type coverage either way. And if you're looking to see rare pokémon then there's another guy who you might want to meet. I'd search around Victory Road for a while to find him before going off to become champion, hero. You'll instantly know what I'm talking about when you see it."

It was meant to be a last info dump before the end. Red took the initiative by poking out across the forests and mountains.

"Do you know what's the deal with the pink pokémon that's over in the cave next to Cerulean? I'm not sure exactly what it was. The pokédex and Professor Oak didn't know either," Red said.

Or Oak was lying for some reason, Lane thought to himself. Or he genuinely didn't know. Or some secret third thing. He didn't pretend to be an expert with his scrambled memories. All he could confirm were the familiar names, enough to go on that he wasn't surprised.

"If you're not meant to know, then you're not meant to know. Try asking Professor Oak again once you're champion." Lane shuffled, looking around warily, trying to speak as fast as he could. "I'm sorry. Not gonna say what I'm sorry for. Go get your Champion's spot, hero! I'm rooting for you!"

As he said that, he ran off in some direction that wasn't exactly the route and just outside the town. Bewildered, Red watched as the thorn in his side left, hopefully for the final time. Already having time to catch up with the people back home, Red started off for his goal so close ahead.

Nearby, Lane nervously hid behind a tree, letting the newfound freedom sink in. He had made sure that he couldn't see the reaction to his apology and just wanted to shut the book on that era of his life. His mind ran through the checklists. All the towns he was interested in were visited. Stupid things had been done aplenty. The whole Team Rocket debacle was about to be solved, kinda. It felt like Kanto was done. There was the whole tournament that was coming soon, but knowing the result really took all the excitement out of it—as if he liked watching fights anyways. There were a few loose ends that he wanted to tie up. One of them was leaving an actual bomb in Fuschia just to mess with Koga before deeming that too stupid. Another was finding Marley again to mess with her. Then came the issue of money that he'd been putting off for a long while: traveling wasn't cheap! The care package that had been left at home was mostly gone, spent on the relatively meagre supplies he needed to survive. Basically only food was purchased yet his pockets still ran dry.

The checklist was divided and conquered by how far each location was. He summoned Lulu. She started stretching while he talked.

"And that's that. You feel like Kanto was boring? I almost feel like we should've skipped it for Johto." When she gave no opinion, he just grinned to the air. "You're right. Having an OG pokédex is pretty cool, and I got a chance to see the Red himself. But where to go? Where to go? Hm hm hm~."

When the humming descended into whistling, she smacked his legs until he stopped. The first thing to do, after an entire month of nothing, was to relax, lay on one of the hills with all of his pokémon enjoying the skywatching. He personally didn't see much appeal, but Fomantis loved the sun and Lurantis absolutely loved pointing out clouds to her kid. Dunsparce seemed to have blissed out the most as he laid uncurled on the grass. When the afternoon was over he recalled everyone except Lulu and walked off route.

Pallet Town had a certain rustic charm only replicated by being isolated from the rest of the region by being situated on the end of a peninsula, then being further divided from the heart of Johto by a mountain range, then being relatively richer as an unimportant blip on a map because of the important people that lived in the area, then making Lane recognize that he'd added so many determining factors that it literally couldn't be replicated anywhere else; and certainly it'd never happen again with a literal force of good, jolly scientists, living across from the force of evil, a gym leader with dubious motivations. Verdant green gems of hills rolled near the entire area that easily hid the few buildings that made up the sleepy town. Being off route wasn't comparable to the forests that had continuously tried eating him whole. Herds of docile pokémon would warily watch the pair as they walked, long gone when they approached. Good weather and the fields of flowers made them walk at a sedate pace, taking an entire day before finding the coastline. Then it was a matter of traveling up at the border where the grass was substituted with plants of thicker leaves, mulchy dirt with gray earth that clumped up when you stuck your hand in it.

By the second day he was looking for a secondary transport. Roughing it on terrain that would only become flat-ish became tiring. Hooting at pokémon didn't work. Waving them down didn't either. Sticking out his thumb turned out not to be a universal gesture either.

So he chose the normal option of calling them when there was a good distance delineating 'my territory' from 'your territory'. Lulu was behind his leg instead of menacingly staring at them with her widdle pink eyes, and oran berries were presented to whoever he was yelling to. Unsurprisingly, this mostly didn't work and led to short fights with pokémon trying to take the berries for themselves. Going off route made the pokémon nearly strong enough to take a simple, single smack from the back of Lulu's bladed limb, as this was a true paradise, where low-level trainers could make a mistake with the worst move they could encounter being poison sting.

It was a trio of Tauros who finally stopped a wary distance away from the pair. Lane tried offsetting Lulu's tense posture with a disarming smile and arms spread wide. Was that meant for intimidation? He couldn't remember. Did oxen (oxes? Oxelopes?) not like when teeth were bared? Definitely didn't remember that either.

"Hey, we need a ride up north. If any of you are up to it, then there's a lot more berries in it for you." He pressed his hands together, letting the berries roll inside his palms. "Please? You can choose the pace if it's that much of an issue. I'm just sooo tired of walking."

With a huff of breath through its nose, the largest Tauros lowered down until it was only slightly awkward to climb on. His little arms still struggled to reach for something he could grab, and wrapping his leg around its back ended up making him feel like he was straddling a car. Lulu refused to go back into her ball and ended up in front of him. Her little blades were lightly curled on his arms that were gripping the bull pokémon's fur. Unexpectedly soft for being mud brown. Wary glances at the sharp horns made him see the scratches that originated from the tip and traveled down to the base, sharp disjunctions made of a pale yellow.

Little time was given for them to readjust before the Tauros took off into a sprint. His vision became like those scenes in horror movies filmed on personal cameras. Bouncing up and down made streaks of light a permanent fixture on his vision. The blurring of the world got better while his legs got worse with every bound. It never looked like riding was very active. Riders were just bouncing on their saddles while the animals pumped their limbs into a furious sprint, muscles unburdened by clothing, revealing every flex that went into their run. Not having a saddle turned out not to be anymore 'natural', or at least smart, as his butt started sliding from the first bound. It was a constant effort keeping himself centered rather than falling onto the horns or falling backwards into the threshing hooves of its herdmates. That meant his grip was constantly pulling on the Tauros' fluffy mane, making his joints start protesting with how tightly he was holding.

Far past the point of no return when the mountains started coming into view, his legs started hurting. That made sense. They were pounding against the animal's side. What didn't make sense was when his bent back started hurting—he was a teenager, for goodness sakes!—which was quickly followed by his hips of all things. When his chest joined in the cacophony, he resolved himself to send flowers to the professional riders on television that he had mocked. How any of that made sense could only be understood by muscle-ologists. Every so often one of the three tails would whip against his back, every time getting a squeak in response. A ranger in the distance watched as he rode by. Sucking up the pain and risking falling off was completely worth waving at the bewildered look.

They made it to the northernmost point of the plains by the day's end. The Tauros left happy with an entire bag of oran berries while he tried not collapsing into sludge. Their journey wasn't over, but it had cut such a burdensome part that he had no choice but to be thankful.

From the time of leaving Pallet Town, it took three days for them to make it to Cerulean City. He paid for his stuff with the last of his money, acted polite-like, and got a ride across the tiny lake north of town by making conversation with an older trainer. Being a nice kid wasn't too hard, but Lane could admit that acting cheeky got him into more fun situations. What point was there to being a trainer and not having fun? That was the exact thought process that led to him burying a sign in front of the Cerulean Cave—some of the last pocket change he had left turned wooden.

Cerulean Cave was renamed 'Lover's Cove' in a terminology change that hadn't been tracked down to a single person. The older folk in Cerulean claimed that one day a sign appeared dug in next to the entrance without an indication that it was a prank or anything with ill-intent. It was so close to the romantic coastline at the end of Route 25 that the name was wholly accepted by the teens. It became the edgier spot for couples, those that were confident enough in their abilities to stand within the entrance's light. Nearly everyone knew that going into the cave was tantamount to suicide and thus dared each other to walk past the entrance of inflated gray balls of popcorn laying around the gaping opening. Not much else came from it other than plenty of spooky stories; apparently even the dumbest, most hormonally addled teenagers had enough sense not to venture too far into the cave that had spiraling teeth gaping back at you. Whatever good rep that young people gained was immediately ruined the month later, as a trend had passed around that dipping a little paralysis heal into your soda made it get an extra kick.

It was a brilliant wordplay on his part that for some reason didn't similarly wow Lurantis. She had concerns about 'people taking it wrong' and 'accidentally leading people to their death' far into the future—boring things like that, which he could not infer and thought her chittering was out of approval. For yet another time she wished that her trainer could understand her, even if her concerns against his bad ideas would be brushed aside anyways.

These bad ideas included entering the cave. She couldn't do much except stick to her trainer's side as they sidled past the engorged rocks.

For once he gave the situation its full respect as Dunsparce came out as insurance. He knew that the cave was dangerous, and knew that coming during the witching hour was probably not a great idea either. An inflatable float that had cost the actual last of his money bounced against the still water, experimentally nudged forward with his toe before he boarded. Was it dangerous since there could be pokémon lying in wait for prey to touch the water? Yes. But technically it was already suicidal for him to be inside the cave in the first place, so taking additional risks wouldn't be too bad. What was past suicidal—super-suicidal?

Lulu took the other side as they paddled with their bare limbs. As they floated deeper inside, he held the can of repel closer. There was a list of disclaimers in small print that lined the entire backside. It wasn't because the company was trying to squirm out of people using their product but rather there were so many disclaimers and rules on proper use that it needed to be fit on the glossy surface. It became a mini-essay that most people never bothered to read, and it was a mini-essay that he could barely read in the dim lighting of his pokédex shining in their raft's center. Technically that made them a bigger target since they were a literal sun in the vastness infinitude of a cave. Past super-suicidal became megalo-suicidal.

"Could make pokémon more aggressive if they're used to the smell, have a certain personality, or are a certain species. And then it says that I can accidentally damage your guys' noses if I use it too much. What does this word even mean? Ol-factory? Am I pronouncing that right?"

The raft bounced against the edge of the pond. It was a pain deflating it for every use, but Lane wasn't about to climb onto his cowardly pokémon's back hoping that it would swim.

Deeper parts of the cave had crystals growing, first in the natural way that he recognized as the flaky bits that collected together like snowflakes, becoming more geometrical. Crystals either lit up or reflected a light source that he couldn't discern. They seemed to be getting brighter the longer he traveled, as if the core were waiting within a tepid afternoon's run. Far inside was a platform surrounded by a wall of crystals. This part was fully lit up, the unknown light source near with an amphitheater's lights. Wreathed in green was a bedraggled girl, looking as if she climbed in every hovel that had been presented to her along the way. The thick mat of hair provided a cape that hung over her shoulders and made her seem warmer than his own bare forearms. She was looking into the crystals, just as confused as Lane.

"Hello, valued customer," Lane greeted.

Green turned around, throwing a pokéball. Lane was barely able to duck underneath it. It scared off an Arbok that was getting too curious.

"Oh! It's you, shorty." Green's expression lightened up from the menacing frown that she had—and it was menacing. Lane personally thought she was the most intimidating girl he's ever met. "Sorry about the confusion. Thought you were a pokémon since it's so dark in here."

The light made a person perfectly able to see the walls around them. Lane could outline the dimples on Green's face. He glanced down at the can of repel and could easily read it.

"Do I look like a pokémon?"

"You're short enough to be a Clefable."

"That's ridiculous. I'm not nearly fat enough." To emphasize, Lane held out his arms to mimic how big they were. "You see this? I'm nowhere near this!"

Green nodded along. Some atmosphere shift made the pendulum swing. "Y'know, it's weird how you just happened to run into me two times. Do we have some kind of bond? A red string of fate? Something...?"

"If the red is more like blood, then we do," Lane said. "You're not really going to fight me again here. I'm on a schedule and it's, uh, a little dangerous."

"Of course not!" Green said, holding a hand against her chest. "I'd never do something like that. That would be harming somebody who I'm relying on to get a powerful foreign pokémon. I'm just pointing out that you're obviously stalking me and it's very flattering."

"Flattering? I'm a ten year old or some odds. The only flattering thing I can do is give my mom chocolates for her birthday," Lane said.

"Really? You look more like a fifteen year old."

There was a sound of something thumping in the cave. Both trainers stopped their banter and stood at attention, Lane's hand instinctively reaching for a pokéball even though both his fighting partners were already released. Whatever made the sound realized that it was being watched and hissed as it slithered into the pitch black. Green took longer to relax, still glancing at the dark drapes laying behind the jade walls.

"Anyways, I've been looking for a rare pokémon here. Know where he is?" she asked.

With absolutely no sympathy nor need for clarification, Lane gave a shrug. "Scared off if you haven't found him. The current champion has cleaned house on this entire region of anything you're thinking of. Wait, that's wrong. He's about to become the champion. The legendary part isn't wrong. He totally has scared them all off. Sorry."

Green looked like her heart was crushed. "Aw, man! You're saying that every single rare pokémon in the region has been caught by a single guy? How is that fair?"

"Not caught. And it isn't, really. I beat him in a battle and within a single month he got strong enough to fight against giant birds and uh," he wanted to clarify what happened with Mewtwo, but Red was so vague that he didn't know how to answer that, "whatever happened with Mewtwo. It's not fair at all."

They nodded in companionable silence, the silence of being surpassed.

"Then I don't need all of this stuff. What a waste of time," Green said.

Valuable items that most wouldn't see in their entire lives dropped from her bag like candy. Lane watched as she casually got rid of things that would most likely send a pokémon professor to the moon if they found out about their existence. He decided that showing interest in them in front of Green would most likely cause him to be another tally in the lives the cave has claimed, so he kept his eyes locked above the 'man line', an invisible line that he thought men were supposed to look above else they were perving or floor-staring morose people. The reaction at seeing one of her bracelets being replaced couldn't be fully suppressed, as his eyes nearly bugged out from his skull. Inside a new silver bracelet was a tiny stone that most wouldn't recognize.

She caught where he was staring and frowned. "You even know what this is, don't you? You're one dangerous kid."

"I should say the same thing about you. I'm not even sure where you can get a mega stone in Kanto of all places. And you're the one who used a master ball to catch a Ninetales. I don't think you can be calling other people scary," Lane said.

"She was a Vulpix when I caught her!"

"...that's even worse."

Green made sure to properly show how offended she was by walking up and poking her finger into his chest. "Look, bud. Let's cut to the chase. As much as I like being in dank, dark places in my free time, this cave has been wearing on my nerves. I haven't even seen another human being in a week and then you come in to tell me that the Champion has stolen the pokémon I want. You came to the cave for a reason and if you're telling the truth, then it's not for Mewtwo. Are you actually stalking me?"

The terrifying visage had slipped back on. Lulu prepared to strike from behind if the girl made any threatening moves towards her trainer while Dunsparce managed to dredge up a rock the size of his head.

"Of course not. I don't have the capability to stalk people yet." His arms crossed behind his back to try to present himself as innocent. "I've heard a rumor on the grapevine that there's something interesting in this cave. It's kind of my thing to be looking for stuff like that."

She seemed to take the answer by its face value and backed off. Lane let out a breath of relief as the silly Green came back. Categorization kicked in. There were three Greens: silly, scary, and battle. The only problem was the whiplash between them made him wonder if she needed to be diagnosed.

"You'd be disappointed. Of course there's rumors about this place having something cool, 'cause it's the strongest area that the weak trainers can see. It's not like they're wrong, but they weren't right enough—mega stones for pokémon I don't have and whatever this is," Green said, kicking the vial on the ground.

A green liquid inside of the glass sloshed around as it rolled down the floor. Inside was something more valuable than all the gold in the world. Probably. He wasn't entirely clear on the details.

Despite the girl's face falling to a level where she was genuinely morose, he couldn't bring himself to pretend that he was empathizing with her. She was violent and unpredictable. If Red was lying, then Lane would've walked into an angry legendary's arms; and if the pokémon actually had come back at some point and fallen to Green, then he'd be walking into a baby armed with a nuke. Mewtwo either way would've wiped him off the face of the planet. "Thought I might as well check it out. I'm a historian, after all."

"A historian?" Green asked.

"I make history. We're making history right now," Lane said.

The joke took a second before it was untangled from the calcium in her head. She started laughing. Green laughed so hard that she bent down, clutching her stomach. Lane knew that he was the funniest guy in a room at any given time but it still seemed excessive. "That's right! We're both historians because we've made the discovery of our lifetimes! That there's ab-so-lutely nothing here!"

He brought out the pokédex and pretended to use it for something. There weren't any pokémon in the area so all that he did was press buttons randomly. Already he saw the deficiencies that the machine had, little UI quirks like having to back out and reenter an adjacent pokémon's page. There wasn't even a notes tab! Those features were repeated in his head to make sure to bring those up next time he saw Professor Oak.

"Want to head back? You said that there's nothing else here, so no reason to hang around."

"I was hoping that Mewtwo was just shy and would come if he got used to me. Ugh. I feel stupid now that somebody else came and stole my thunder. That's supposed to be what I do. I should go and teach that jerk a lesson." She was about to squeeze past before realizing that he had something in his hands. "What's that?"

"Oh, this? It's a pokédex. Some new device that has all the pokémon that we know about registered in it." Lane double-checked and grimaced when he realized that all the typings weren't added into it. The good samaritan flared up again, thinking that he should talk about that too. "It's got everything. Their typing, the moves they learn, shows what abilities they have, their stats—er, nevermind 'bout that last one, and the second to last one."

"What!? That sounds super useful!"

"It is," Lane said. "Walk and talk. I'm sick of being down here too."

Lane gestured to his pokémon. Both of them started shoving the vial and mega stones into a bag that he'd given Lulu. That was the main reason he came, after all.

"So why are you visiting all these places?" Green asked, lips reaching out to take a sip of her milkshake. Mint. Her favorite flavor. Lane personally thought that a milkshake outside of the three flavors (vanilla, chocolate, and strawberry) was an affront to mankind and sensibility, but was unwilling to start a fight. The girl had a mega stone. She'd surpassed him the second that she scrounged up the ring.

His own flavor that made sense, vanilla, was good enough that Lurantis had started bugging him for another one. He ignored the desperate prodding. She already drank through her entire glass.

"Curiosity mostly, since I've got a strong trainer who's coming along that lets me be a little more foolhardy, and trying to find a girl. I want to seem like I wasn't purposely trying to find them, so we're trying to act casual. The real question is why you're stalking me now," Lane said.

"Am I not wanted?" she asked, fluttering her eyelashes.

Lurantis gave the girl a side-eye before continuing to morosely look into her glass. She started licking the sides of it to get as much sugar as she could.

"Nah, I don't care either way. Just weird that I'm the one who's being stalked now. That's, like, backwards. I'm supposed to be the funny hanger-on that you just can't get rid of while you're—I'm not sure what you do."

"If you really want to know, then I'm hoping that you'd take me to Professor Oak's and put in a good word for me," Green said. She pressed her palms together and started bowing. "Please, please, please, Lane-san! I want a pokédex! I really want a pokédex!"

A shudder passed. Something irregular. Something unwanted. Something that he absolutely needed to stamp down.

"Okay, first, you need to never call me that again. Second, only if you tell me why you seem to be afraid of the professor of all people," Lane said. Green turned into paper that slid underneath the table, as if the professor was watching them at that moment.

Two sides of Kanto existed: barren rurality that forced a methodical pace, everything squeezed through a thin tube of toothpaste, and supercities that were projected to become the most populated in the entire world. Vermillion was in the former category, with its traditional houses and construction that took months since only a single team did all the construction. The ice cream place that they were at served every dessert known to Kanto in a valiant compression. Tables being set out next to the cobbled street afforded them a view over the ocean, which wasn't too special in the city considering that most of the buildings were built within a minute's walk from the coastline. Lane was also getting sick of seeing the giant body of water. Spending a few weeks on Cinnabar had really taken all the enchantment out of it. The pink tables that had metal legs fashioned as if they were plants growing out of the ground were far more interesting.

"So you think that she's gonna be here?"

A clear way to dodge the conversation. He let it go. Too much effort doing something that may just make the other person mad.

"I have no way of knowing. She just said that she was visiting the area, and the last time that I met her she spent most of her time diving. She could be literally anywhere. She could also be lying and be in, I don't know, Fuschia." He finally relented and slid the shake into Lulu's waiting arms. They weren't that good. "Hope she ain't over there. They've kind of got a grudge with me."

She rose from the slump in a flash, holding both her elbows on the table. "What'd you do?"

"Made them arrest town heroes 'cause it turned out that they were Team Rocket." A realization made him smirk. "I've also gotten more from there arrested since then. Soon enough I'll have half the town in jail."

"Excuse me."

Someone had snuck up on them. Lane blinked at the girl who looked as if she were around their ages with eyes like she'd snorted catnip. They didn't flick around. He could trace as they slowly sailed along to gently becoming beached; that pattern was even more prominent when they'd flick between the two of them, a train on a schedule, or electricity—more accurate as her landing times would be considered in violation of labor laws. A sketchbook that was nearly the size of her torso hung loosely in her grip. The overalls, holes ripped from use rather than style, didn't do any good at catching the paint that she worked with as each body part had at least one splatter. Lane would almost believe that she was the canvas with how many streaks of color were scarred across her body. Meshes of chemicals were mingled into her hair.

Gym leaders, or your region's equivalent, were super celebrities that transcended the fields that they touched. Whether politician, trainer, or a profession past that, a gym leader's presence preceded them and amplified their already strange personalities, because it was insane for a normal person to willingly continue training pokémon past the part when it was free and they had infinite energy.

"S'up?" Green greeted. The realization came, making her milkshake shake so hard that a little had tipped onto the table when she tried leaning over it. One hand slammed the base of the glass down while the other hid her mouth from the new arrival. She whispered, "is this the girl?'

The renaissance men usually only had pull within their own regions though. "No, she's not the girl that we're stalking."

"You like to throw that word out a lot…"

The girl wasn't bothered by any of their actions. Her hand rose slowly, like everything else she did. Lane was reminded of a horrible movie that threw slow-mo everywhere.

"Mina. Painter."

Green took her hand enthusiastically. Despite the hardy shaking, neither were gripping the other very hard. "Green! Uh, trainer!"

"Lane. Historian."

"Names. Good." Mina gestured over to the crowd inside the dessert shop. "Not interested in the Championship battle?"

On the screen was a familiar Charizard ripping through the air much faster even back during the last gym fight he'd seen—the wonders of cramming—effortlessly weaving between the beams of light that were blasting from the ground. It was an image so incredible that it had to be shown everywhere. Across from the shop had a person drag their television out to their window so that everybody gathered at the patio could see the fight. Cheers resounded whenever the Elite Four member scored a hit—home field advantage. Through the entire town was a unified ruckus whenever either trainer made a play that tilted the battle in their favor, whether that be cheers or boos. The cameras struggled to take in the entire battlefield since both pokémon constantly shifted it to their own advantage, though most didn't care much about the specifics. Those too busy working tuned into the radio to keep on track.

"I hate him. He stole my pokémon," Green said bitterly. She crossed her arms, looking at the screen in the ice cream store. Charizard had to back off from his assault to avoid a thunderbolt. The clerk had stopped mid scoop so he could watch. The mom, with a blonde bob, didn't bother criticizing the teen as she was also enraptured. "Look at that. He has some of the strongest pokémon in the world and this is how he uses them. What a waste! This would've already been wrapped up if he sent out Mewtwo. Does he even have a mega stone? Arrgh! He makes me mad and I've never even met him!"

Lane interrupted before Green could really get into a rant. "He hates me. Plus I already know he's going to win, so I don't really care about watching the battles. All that stuff about strength is so whatever to me. Hold on. Lulu! Get over here."

Lurantis dropped the glass to reveal a beard of ice cream around her mouth. Lane dipped the napkin into Green's glass of water and gently dabbed.

"You two seem confident that he's going to win," Mina said.

"Psh, you see that? He's strong enough that I'd be wary of him even with all the tricks up my sleeves," Green said.

"He's pretty much been destined for championship since I'd first seen him." Lane turned the napkin to its dry side so excess moisture wouldn't do plant-things to her mouth. He's pretty sure that's a problem. "Now what're you here for, Ms. Trial Captain?"

Her eyebrow rose. "Guessed that you were from Alola with a pokémon like that. I'm not a trial captain yet."

"You wouldn't find me on any government databases if you looked," Lane said. Lurantis rolled her eyes when he said that, getting an aggressive pat on the head in retaliation.

"That sounds shady," she said.

Green waved her hand between the two. "Hello? Person that isn't worldly over here? What's a trial captain?"

"Think gym leader except for Alola. They want to be special so they didn't go into the whole gym business fully. The way that they handle the whole thing is different." Lane stopped fussing over his pokémon, though he slid the glass away from her. "I'm not from there, by the by. I'm way more mysterious than that. No background at all, like a ghost."

"It's a little more complicated than that, but the gist is close enough. I was just curious about you two. You kind of stick out with your foreign pokémon and lack of interest in the championship battle."

"I have half the mind to go there and stop the whole thing myself. No wait! I can come in immediately after and take the Champion's seat myself. There! Show him what it feels like to lose all the progress that you've been working towards," Green mumbled to herself.

Mina continued speaking without showing any indication of acknowledgement. "Thought it'd be a good way to pass the time. The ocean here is so beautiful that I couldn't stop looking at it. It's just a unique color. But I was so distracted that the cruise ship took off without me. How rude is that?'

"Super."

"Practically evil."

"Right? So now I'm waiting for the next one."

"Were you here on business?" Lane asked.

"I was painting the ocean back home but I felt like the scene needed something extra. So I went to my daddy's books and got a reference of how Lapras looks. But then I wondered how Kanto looked so I got a ticket and came over. And when I got here, well, I forgot why I was even here in the first place, but that didn't matter 'cause there were so many different things that I could paint. So I was walking around the entire region getting stuff to paint and selling it so I could get more paint supplies 'cause I only brought enough for a few paintings and wasn't expecting to make the amount that I did. I did a bunch of paintings. One of the mountains, two of the mountains actually, the ocean, three of the ocean actually, the sky, the cities that I visited, some portraits of pokémon, and probably a few others that I forgot about. I like painting a lot but some of them have way more work than the others, but I want to remember the paintings that did in a short time too since there's usually stuff that I could learn from them, so I have a journal that documents all the different paintings that I've done with their names and what the subject was about. Usually that's enough to jog my memory but my luggage was also on the cruise ship so I can't show it to you, but if I could there'd be a whole lot of paintings in it, so I needed to get another notebook for the Kanto paintings that I've painted and I could show you that instead but it only has the paintings that I've done here. I've saved a few but not very many, and they're on the cruise ship. I wasn't intending on any of them to be my better stuff. Oh, I mean that paintings that I spend a long time on I like to hang in my gallery back home before selling them—if I ever sell them. I think I sold them now that I think about it." She turned around to appreciate the scenery again. "The ocean is pretty."

A familiar device slipped out of Lane's pocket into his hand. He made sure to clearly be fiddling with it as he double-checked the helpful entry on type matchups and grimaced. There were some resistances left out. That could lead to really bad situations. Green watched, now knowing that he'd been hired to advertise it, trying to see what secrets the master salesman had.

"What's that?" Mina asked.

He glanced at Green, who wasn't even hiding how shocked she was. The entire trip he was practically shoving it into everyone's faces and it was working! She considered getting into sales later in her life if it were really that easy. Lie—check—and be obnoxious—check. She thought herself too young to know the skills, yet Lane looked younger than her while also having the skills. She wondered if Lane was a long lost brother. Or clone! Clones were cooler. Mewtwo was a clone.

"It's a pokédex. It has entries on every pokémon in Kanto. Stuff like who they can breed with, their tracks, practical things. You can look them up and everything," he said.

She leaned down to get a better look at the screen, shoving her head right next to his. "Wow. That's in-depth."

"Right? They're talking about getting the pokémon of other regions added into it. I was asked if I could scan ones that I see. Hey, do you have your team? What if we do a few battles so I can scan them?"

Green slammed the table, standing up with a manic grin. "That sounds awesome! I got annoyed seeing the thief, so I need to work off this tension."

"Sure. I only train fairy-types, so be prepared."

"What's a fairy-type?"

Mina blinked once. Normally, a person who was processing information they couldn't believe would take a moment to themselves as their brain tried producing a response for a situation they couldn't believe. Mina was not normal. So when she blinked, it became a long-suffering silence where Green was left confused when the other girl stopped speaking.

Mina's finger rose in the air. "Oh, right. Kanto doesn't know about fairy-types. Forgot about that. Uh, a fairy-type is a type."

"So, what is it? Happy? Cute?" Green waved her arms around. "And how come there aren't any here?"

"There are. Wigglytuff is a fairy-type," Mina said. Like it was fact.

"No it isn't. It's a normal-type," Green said. Like it was fact.

"No, it isn't. It's a fairy-type," Lane said. Cheekily.

Green crossed her arms. "If Wigglytuff was a fairy-type, then we'd know. No way."

Mina didn't cross her arms. "Not sure why Kanto hasn't recognized them."

"That's because nobody on this continent recognizes fairy-types," Lane said casually. He smirked when her pupils went to the side of her eyes, then entire head moved until she could bring him to the center of her vision. "It's true. I don't blame them. When would you ever think to bring out a Wigglytuff against a dragon?"

"I do it all the time," Mina mumbled.

"You two are messin' with me. There's no such thing as fairy-types," Green said.

"Yes there is," Mina said.

"No there isn't!"

"Yes there is."

"No there isn't!"

As they argued, Green was the only one getting progressively louder while Mina kept the same lazy tone. Lulu tried sneaking the little bit of milkshake that Green had left while the table was distracted.

Their shouting started overtaking the nearby programs of the championship battle. Annoyed glances were thrown at the teenage girl who was shrieking at the top of her lungs. An air raid siren, begging for attention. It wasn't assumed that Green was genuinely getting mad and wanted to rip into Mina's team. It was inevitable that somebody would investigate, if only to tell the girls to shut up. It was also likely that a person predisposed towards walking into conflict would be the first to do so.

"Excuse me, but did you know that everyone in town can hear you?"

"What!?" Green screeched at the same volume.

Lane already was grinning from ear to ear while Green's chest was heaving. He yanked on her sleeve. "Green, Green! You're a genius!"

That made her confused enough that the wild eyes of a predator snapped to Lane. "What?"

"You attracted big sis over with your embarrassing screaming match! Good job!"

In Marley's defense, Lane wasn't very recognizable. A shrub of brown hair and a cute face that hadn't grown out of its youngness (youngness contrasted with youth, which usually started being shed in your early or late 20s) didn't make him stand out. Even the weird clothes that were picked out specifically for being weird weren't too weird, showing that he had some conscience in there. Lurantis though was indefensible. She was a bright pink pokémon of which only a single person in the entirety of Kanto owned. How many bright pink pokémon were even in Kanto anyways? Jigglypuff, Wigglytuff, Slowpoke, Slowbro, Exeggute…the thought process behind Marley's mind wasn't mistaken and her eyesight wasn't bad—she was just not very observant. The most detail that she focused on was a girl screaming like a caveman.

Her thought process rebooted when Lane spoke. Only a single thought ran through her head: would his friends be just as weird?

"Big," Green's eyes flitted between the two, "sis?"

"Taller," was all that Mina said.

Lane waved them off. "Oh, she isn't really big sis. I just call her big sis because she's got the sisterly energy."

Both girls looked at the third, who hadn't discovered that there's another color a person can wear except black and white.

"Y'sure?" Mina asked.

"She's got kind of…" Green trailed off.

"Is this what they're talking about when they say that girls are meaner than boys?" Lane asked, nudging an elbow into Lulu. It was that moment when he realized that she had a new green beard. "Lulu!"

Marley raised her hands. "Look, you're no longer yelling, so there's—"

"Marley! Stop edging away!" Lane gestured to the seat next to him. "It's a good thing that we're all here. Take a seat and we can get to business."

There was a war inside of her head. Saying that an angel and devil were perched on her shoulders would've been an exaggeration; either option was a bit more morally gray, making those little creatures perched on her shoulders take the shape of her mom and dad. Her mom said that running away from the trouble was smarter. Her dad was much more boisterous, shouting in her ear that she'd already taken the plunge and should stick with her guns (most said pokémon, but her dad was a gun enthusiast). There was also a tiny moral thing that Lane had run into danger while at Cinnabar. Perhaps there was another serious problem that needed to be dealt with? It'd be bad of her to leave when she was confident being the strongest trainer in their group.

Smoothing the bottom of her skirt, she slid onto a chair. Green was already giving her a stink eye while Mina was staring into the distance.

"That house…" Mina mumbled.

Marley turned around. It was a square house, painted yellow, eyelids half-lowered. A Staryu was squirting water on the roses that were planted in a box next to the front door.

"Yeah?" Marley prompted.

Mina didn't respond except by putting her sketchbook against the table and taking out colored pencils from her pocket. Each flick of her wrist created the horizons of reality, the boundaries of the house made with practiced ease. Little imperfections divorced from the real house were created within the silhouettes, though Marley had to admit that the drawing was impeccably done. Even the very frame of it created within a minute had a beauty to it only achievable from days of practice.

On the other end was Green, a girl who hadn't stopped glaring at Marley since she interrupted the screaming match. Besides her rather basic clothes, there were tiny clues that Marley could pick out. Being out on the road burdened girls who wanted to look their best. Some routes were so long that they were forced to camp somewhere, and unless you were willing to find a pack pokémon to carry your stuff, there was also a limit to the amount of things you could carry. Basically, keeping clean was next to impossible if you were on your journey. Marley compounded the problem by sticking her nose into places that most didn't, but even she had standards. Green had twigs acting like scrunchies in her hair! And patches of dirt camouflaged as birth marks! Elbows gray because they hadn't been moisturized in weeks, if ever!

The girls, save Mina, were drawn to Lane when he knocked on the table.

"It's good that we could all gather here. Let's have ourselves a little competition."

"A competition?" Marley asked.

"Who drank my milkshake?" Green asked sourly. Lulu crossed her arms around her back and looked around. Green muttered, "bet it was this mall goth girl."

Pieces of paper slapped down. Categories above long lines read name, favorite pokémon, address, and phone number.

"Here's my genius method of spreading engagement about the pokédex! Since Professor Oak has graciously hired me to spread the word about it, I created these! They'll put themselves on a list that Professor Oak can sort out on his own." He nervously played with the corners of the papers. "I, uh, didn't know their price, or when they're done, but I think that a pokédex will have enough appeal that people will put up with the mystery no matter what."

"What's a pokédex?" Marley asked.

Another paper slid towards her that, unlike the papers asking for a signature which were lovingly detailed with a ruler and legible handwriting, instead was scribbled out in pencil. That didn't stop Lane from making explosive outlines and little thumbs up to emphasize certain parts. Everything that he considered important about it was written on the paper as if it were an advertisement, especially repeating that it would contain all known pokémon. A tiny disclaimer stated that the pokémon of Johto, Sinnoh, Hoenn, and all other regions weren't listed yet.

"So what's the reward?" Green asked hungrily.

He dully looked at her. "You're s'posed to ask what the competition is 'fore the reward."

"We're busy people here! I'm only going to do this if the reward's worth it!" Green said, huffing.

Lane gave her a moment to take it back before pointing around the table. "Busy? You've now just had your raison d'etre get captured by the champion, she's been doing something undisclosed and would probably like a moment to rest, and she's waiting for another boat ride."

"Raison wha'?" Green asked. When only a smug smile was returned, she circled her hand around. "Alright, fine. What's the competition?"

"I'm glad you asked! The competition is whoever gets the most signatures pledging that they have interest in the pokédex! Whoever gets the most signatures gets a rare stone!"

No gasps. In fact, it was like he didn't say anything at all.

Chapter Text

"You're all supposed to at least act surprised!" Lane fumed.

"Rare stone," Marley simply said.

"Yeah, dude, I don't know who's gonna be jumping up and down for a rare stone. Like, is it an evolutionary stone? Some kind of gem?" Green leaned on the table, trying to look innocent. "Maybe you should show us. Real slow like."

Mina looked up from her sketch. "I'm sorry, what were we talking about?"

"It's a rare stone and that's all you're gonna get from me. Just know that it really is rare for this region and you probably would never see another one around here if you don't get this one from me. We're gonna be attracting people to sign this document pledging to get a pokédex. Think of this like a—" he tapped his lips with increasing vigor. While he was unused to the campaigns there, the ones he was familiar with broke language on their backs and changed casual lingo forever. It would've been silly to think that pokémon exempted humans from being affected by an advertisement. "Have you guys ever heard of 'Just Do It'?"

"Oh, that's the Nike ad. Right?"

Lane stared blankly at Green before addressing the group as a whole again. "This is my—our marketing campaign. No cool slogan. We're gonna be selling these pokédexes like hotcakes regardless. They've got instant appeal with all the worrywarts and nerds, with even more features promised down the line. All we've got to do is connect people! Professor Oak can't do it 'cause he's an old scientist and scientists got the charisma of a rock."

"Wait, it's Professor Oak who you're working for?" Marley interjected.

"Yeah? Yeah. I—yeah." He looked around at the other girls. "I said that before, yeah?"

"Professor Oak," Marley repeated, as if in a dream. "You're advertising for him? I suppose I misjudged you."

"I'm not even going to ask what that means!"

Mina lazily tilted her sketch around, taking a look at different angles. "So we're doing this? Sounds fun. I can pretty easily win this."

Their casual atmosphere chilled. Suddenly the infectious cheers seemed to be waving through them and the scraps of ice cream forgotten, because it's impossible to have a conflict when there's supple niceness with extra bits of sugar that perfectly compliment the churned loveliness—chocolate syrup and, Lane's favorite, that fake caramel that you drizzle over on sundaes if you're feeling nice and normal cones if you're not. Green's eyebrows danced as she processed the words, not expecting a tiny girl being so boisterous. Of all the people, even Marley actually seemed to be offended from the one-off comment.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Marley asked. Her quiet voice had turned rough like sandpaper.

Mina looked back up from her sketchbook with a confused frown. "I'm used to promoting my own work. Spreading awareness about a thingy that looks useful will be easy for me."

"Oh? I'm a pretty memorable person. That's all advertising is. Making the whole thing memorable," Green said.

"There's more to it than that," Marley responded.

Lane decided interjecting instead of waiting for the girls to tear their throats out. He expected that trainers were more competitive than normal people, but the ferocity was working too well. They were supposed to be working thankless hours, not battling! "Okay! Let's, uh, put that behind us and think about the future. Most signatures win! And I'm competing too, so don't get too complacent. I'm literally the best advertiser this side of the universe."

Already their competition was dulled by his words. Every girl was staring at him and making him feel embarrassed when he shouldn't. He was the organizer, darn it! They should be groveling so he's tempted to fudge the counting on their behalf!

Green was the one to put her chips down. "Fine. I'm in. What's the time limit?"

Four fingers were held up. "Three hours!"

"Three hours," Marley repeated. She smiled. "Easy enough."

Lane spun his hand around. "The timer has started! Go, go, go!"

Despite the hesitant start, they'd gotten into the competition. The girls spread out throughout the town. He looked to the only one who wasn't moving. She had stood up to start bouncing on her heels, giving him a meaningful look.

"S'up? You know that you're giving them extra time." He leaned over, hand over his mouth like he was hiding his words even if it was on the opposite side from their only audience, Lulu. "I think you've got a pretty good chance. Neither of them are very salesman-y. You? You're a salesman-lite."

She pushed his shoulder playfully. "C'mon, I'm actually asking something here. You took the mega stone that I left behind, right? Can I see it again?"

Without really thinking about the request, he set the backpack onto the table and fished out the stone. Describing what exactly was in his hand was easy—it was a stone. Cool, smoothed to the point of feeling unnatural, hard. Turning it around was when the supernatural malarkey happened. No matter which direction you stared, the design floating in the center glared back. It looked like a figure standing at the precipice of a fog bank, just barely peeking out with his backside fading. This particular one had a green and pink pattern. Otherwise the rock was mostly transparent, though opaque, slightly sickly-colored skin wrapped around the other side of it as seen through the blue-tinted glass.

Lulu had hopped onto his shoulder, blades hanging on as she poked over to get a closer look. The stone had immense power and showed that by hitting the uncanny valley of reality. It was convincing enough that sediments had been naturally pressed down through the years, if the symbol weren't a slitted eye glaring back at them. Lane took it that he was holding the equivalent of a poké-nuke. It was more dangerous than a measly pipe bomb, surely.

Green had leaned into it, squinting, before pulling back with a smile. "Huh. Didn't really get a good look since I was in the cave but that looks different from mine, doesn't it?"

Her mega stone was normally pointing at the inner side of her wrist instead of flaunting to the world, hiding in plain sight. Lane himself had to admit that it was only by chance that he recognized it. From a certain perspective it looked like a novelty bracelet instead of the accessory that made the person you're talking to about ten times more dangerous. Hiding that innocuous thing was immensely easy, meaning the future of customs was forever ruined when a gumball-sized nuke that slid by metal detectors could be held by anyone.

Lane shook his head to clear the mystique. Yes, it was interesting, but Lulu was cuter than any stupid mega pokémon. "It definitely does. I think they all have different appearances."

"I betcha they do. Not many people can say they've seen a mega stone, much less two, but we're both different, obviously."

"I didn't need a dumb rock to tell me that."

Just to show he wasn't commanded by a rock, he stuffed it back into his backpack and zipped it up.

"S'pose not. I guess I should get going, huh?" Green asked. She pointed into the horizon. "Tally ho! That sounds like something you'd say."

"How'd we talk long enough for you to know that? Regardless, you're right. Best of luck and tally ho! God save the queen and thanks for the fish and chips!"

There was only a single strategy in Marley's mind that could lead her to victory: getting the most prominent people in town to use the pokédex. If she were to convince community leaders that the pokédex was useful, then it'd follow that the people who looked to them for guidance would also be convinced. It was a bit more of a complicated process than what it sounded like on its face. Three hours wasn't the best for convincing somebody to convince another person, as for that to happen, patient zero would have one of two motivations: material or genuine interest. Cultivating a genuine interest usually didn't happen within a single conversation, and Marley knew the limits that her charisma could take her. Material interest was entirely different yet was also abusable. Ruining the spirit of competition by bribing people felt sick to her, also being entirely impractical considering that this 'rare stone' probably couldn't pay back the price for bribing people.

It wasn't lost on her that this group had been caught by material interest, with both a prize and their pride on the line. She conceded that Lane may have had a point about being a great salesman.

So of the two, she needed a way to get the community leaders interested. She took inspiration from herself: it was Professor Oak's device which he wholeheartedly recommended—the spiel that she'd give the community leaders in the area, which would be used as the foot in the door. Then the only matter would be finding people faster than the others to mention that their beloved gym leader personally approved of the device by tapping his signature as proof.

It brought her to the front doors of the gym. Standing in front of the plain glass reinforced her general antipathy for the region that had a stock gym, customized inside yet standing out like an ugly hospital outside. Tradition—so comforting back home, so stifling in Kanto. Art was wrapped in a noose with how constricted she felt. Buildings which should have so much more personality stood lifeless as if it were robots constructing and managing them. Soulless, the only word that came to mind with the four walls that housed the electric-type gym. Some memories of staying up late to research Kanto came to mind. A veteran from the war that shook the two Leagues was housed there, less than a decade away from the military and bringing the same attitude for any trainer who dared challenge him; in short, he roughed them up much harder than any other gym leader to try scaring them away from fighting further. A disproportionate number of trainers gave up on the circuit in his gym, only surpassed by the sheer girth of broken hearts at whichever first gym was tackled that filtered out those who had no talent for training.

From the descriptions, Marley found the man distasteful. She genuinely believed that battling was one of the primary ways that people grew closer to their pokémon, and personally advocated for gyms to become easier so most trainers can at least beat a few. But that was a thought she wasn't going to entertain when a macho military man was brought into vision immediately upon entering the gym.

The inside was extraordinarily simple. A front lobby had a single chair sitting across from a desk. Ahead were trash cans equidistant from each other, filling up the entire room. Some complicated mechanism with coils lining the walls and pylons jutting outwards laid dormant between her and the arena, a room that wasn't nearly as big as some of the ones she'd seen. Must not use fast pokémon, she mused, or he was that confident in his strength to maneuver in such a small space. Technically you could look up the favored strategies of the gym leaders online, but she personally never exploited that resource, especially since it'd be a casual battle if she actually roped Surge into it. Researching the person you're going to fight for fun was slimy behavior.

The only people present were standing at the far end of the arena. She noted the lack of gym trainers, wondering if she should even bother, before steeling her nerves. For the prize, she charged on. For her pride, she repeated, and repeated, and repeated, skipping across her head with each step that made her more nervous.

Getting closer made that thought disappear with a loud pop as three different sets of eyes turned. Surge was there, with his impeccably styled hair and crisp uniform that fit his body like a glove. The man's version of a friendly smile had jagged edges that would scare away the typical city-goer, so he'd say. Surge happily acted as one of the many capillaries for Kanto and would loudly denounce those who questioned his region. It was a machine with purpose: live for the region, live for his job, and always stay in movement. The whole existence was foreign to her.

The other two were still familiar figures. Contra-Surge was the darker skinned man with a messier hairstyle, a curly black that was styled into manageable spikes. Marley could see that they were clearly different people yet couldn't remove the idea that they were some kind of doppelgangers. The muscular arms, clothing made to be roughhoused, and strong stances all suggested they were men down to the thoughts on washing machines and working out. It was the more easy going smile on Brock that made her relax. Technically the gyms could be done in whatever order but most went all the way over to his gym because of its reputation of being encouraging towards new trainers. Many hundreds had at least gone to their second badge thanks to his advice (for further statistics, drawn from the Kanto and Johto Bureau of Our Shared Future, known as JOHOSF for those who are outside as it mostly works in Johto, BOSF for those who interact with it often within the government, named so whimsically because the Champion who pushed it at the time had a flair for the dramatic, the disparity is even starker; a startling 88% of trainers who fight Brock first manage to gain a second badge afterwards, above the Johto median of 45% of trainers getting a second badge, Kanto median of 51%, and still above the surprising next gym that manages to make it's trainers competent enough for a second badge, Koga's, with a 74% success rate; with the full list going Brock, Koga, Sabrina, Misty, Erika, Surge, Blaine, capping it off with Giovanni refusing trainers with no badges.).

The final one was a twist that literally twisted her mind to a halt. Purple hair that clumped together and his short stature made him a bit recognizable, a forever young appearance that clung to his sweet fourteen. A Johto resident being over in Kanto wasn't unheard of, but Marley's understanding was that the sister regions did their absolute best in remaining separate when they could. There was a war or something; she didn't like war, she didn't like history, her parents had instilled the Sinnoh value of keeping your nose out of the southern part of the continent's business, and Sinnoh as a whole was trying to pretend that it never happened.

So she waffled at the edge of the arena. To do or not to do? Important or not important? So many different suggestions flung around her mind that she stood paralyzed there. It made her way too obvious to be ignored.

"Hey!"

She leapt in surprise. Surge was waving her over. With only another thought lambasting herself (look at what you did, idiot, interrupting the gym leaders for their important meeting for a rock that probably isn't that cool), she shuffled over awkwardly at the three gym leaders that were standing there. Surge looked pissed, Brock tried looking welcoming, and Bugsy seemed like he was soaking up some of her awkwardness.

Surge was, obviously, the one who bulldozed the conversation into existence. "Did you get lost? This is the gym. To be even clearer, this is my gym, the electric gym. Only people who have a clear path forward are allowed here. You don't seem to fit that description."

"No need to be rude. If she didn't have anything to say, then she wouldn't be here." Brock kept his tone as welcoming as possible, making up for any ambiguity with the clear smile he presented. "What are you here for? If your business is solely for Surge, then can we ask for a minute to wrap up here?"

Many sorts of thoughts came to mind that would've been great to say. Her mouth opened and said, "why is he here?"

She snapped it back shut so hard that her teeth clicked together. Bugsy actually seemed amused with the question and butted ahead before Surge could say anything. "Are you talking about me? It's nothing private, else we wouldn't have called you over here. Ever since the Orange League has been formed, travel between our regions has been escalating towards heights never before seen. Initially our scientists predicted the dissolution of the border wouldn't impact the ecosystems, since pokémon don't care about human borders and we're rather similar in the first place, but—"

"We've got Togetic eating the same food that our Caterpie do and if that isn't the most ridiculous statement then we've got plenty more," Surge said.

Brock broke his cheery demeanor with a rare sigh. "Not too many people have given their support since it's not that big of a problem yet. Pretty much all the people in the Orange League who care about this are standing here right now. We're hoping that another joint statement will get people to care about pokémon being displaced into habitats that they're not meant to be in. I still have high hopes that this'll get Erika on board. She's quite passionate about plants which is adjacent to what we're doing."

"Girl cares more about playing with her manicured garden than real world issues," Surge said.

Neither of the others contradicted that.

"We're mostly hoping to rope in an even more renowned person than ourselves. Somebody like Professor Oak," Bugsy said.

Marley's pupils dilated.

Chance.

"Speaking of!" She interrupted, trying not to cringe at the cool glare. "Um, what I mean is that I've got right here something that Professor Oak condones—made!"

Brock gave a sympathetic smile. It hurt her to look at. It was exactly the type that you gave your niece after she just face planted during her dance routine at the school talent show. "Are you talking about the pokédex?"

"Yes!" She held out her little paper that she was given. "I'm advertising these right now. I'd appreciate it if all of you would show your interest in the pokédex."

"I'm sorry, but I think that I'm missing some context here," Bugsy said.

"Me too," Surge groused.

Thankfully, Brock didn't even question it. The paper was taken from her hands. Slinging off his backpack by twisting his body, he used it as a hard surface to write down his signature. It was passed around to the others. Even Surge jotted down his signature after making sure there wasn't any fine print, double-checking the back of the page and twisting it around for any cryptography.

"It's a device that he's been working on for the past year or so. It's meant to do everything: be a pokémon database that updates whenever we discover new pokémon, have little doodads that make everyday life easier, and a bunch of other features that went straight over my head." Brock swung his hand over his head. "I don't know the whole science for it. Oak's been excited about it though and he just won't stop talking about it. Hey! Is it done if you're spreading it around?"

Therein lay a good question. Was it done? Marley wasn't sure either. It wasn't like she had been hired directly by the man.

Taking the paper back, she glanced over all their signatures. Recognizable, of course. These were the written representations of the men that moved their cities and ran the region. Brock's was stoic, blocky, not exactly cursive yet still connecting all the letters. The one below it was done with meek pen strokes that didn't dare take up the entirety of the given space. The final one had sharp movements, sleek, making good use of the space beyond the given line and violating the other signature's sovereignty.

"Why don't you ask him? I'm sure that he'd be happy giving you a copy of it. You could also talk about getting him aboard your initiative," she said.

Brock brightened. "Hey, that's an idea! It's even on the way home so we don't have to go too far."

"I wouldn't mind meeting Professor Oak himself," Bugsy said. His eyes were elsewhere, which is exactly how Marley imagined herself if she ever met the man.

"You two can go yourselves," Surge said with finality. "I'm currently dealing with a wave of trainers. Which, speaking of, I've got an appointment in twenty minutes. I'll visit him later."

Marley shook hands with a bunch of strong, famous trainers.

An artist saw something different with the landscape. It's what made them artists. A poet saw the emotion, felt in the moment, and was concerned with putting down his heart onto the page, which gave them an unfortunate tendency to party—either living in the moment or trying to smother their unbearable, unique sorrow that needed to be uniquely expressed. Then came the writer, who was a persnickety individual who sat in the corner of their room with bent fingers and swollen knuckles from rewriting the same paragraph for an entire day, agonizing over whether their specific word fit that situation in a unique, interesting, proper way; just as sad, not nearly as fun to be around. Then came the photographer who would become one with the frame as they sat in a single place waiting for their single moment that would be seared into eternity, or constantly looking around in unimagined corners of the world where they could rip a space out of its context to make it look vastly more interesting than it'd ever achieve by itself. A musician was more concerned with themselves than anything around them.

"Is that so? Then what does a painter see?"

A painter saw everything—that's what made them the best. Encapsulated within every brushstroke was the anger in the hardness, the passion in the controlled motions, the sadness in the palette, everything that a person could feel in the visible and invisible spectrum of colors and movements which was perfectly translated to the greatest neophyte and smallest child. Not only was the frame as a whole unique but each of their muscle twitches put down onto palette making every single effort interesting in its own way; not good, as some would think, but having merit in giving it at least a glance. It was a smear of eternity given life as she sat watching the horizon, with the emphasis that it was a smear. Every single breath of air changed the winds as her eyes adjusted to the dimming sky. Each moment giving life to a new part of the painting readjusting her expectations of the final product. It wasn't a single moment she painted but a whole event given life; take that directors!

"Then what do you see here?"

An ocean. A coast like any other. Yet she could easily dispute that being a painter of many coasts. Each one she could remember down to the specific decisions that she made at any one moment. No rocks were there. A Krabby wandering into frame wasn't immortalized. There was something about the Kanto water, unlike her home, that constantly glared into her eyes. Never had she redone a painting. Every mountain is its own mountain, every street its own, and every coast its own. She never painted on the same ground, never visited the same restaurant. The river moves, and who was she to fight that? Her job was to capture it.

"What's this paper?"

She didn't even glance back at the person asking. "Some device. pokédex. Sign it if you want. In my opinion, it's going to be the greatest invention that humans have ever made. Because technology's purpose is to bridge what humans lacked. We didn't have a method of understanding what's outside and inside us so we made art. We didn't know how to tear down the borders of knowledge so we made the computer. I have a personal experience with that. It was really hot at my home when I was young. I can remember that I was sticky all the time and it made playing really annoying. Every kid that I played with only ran when we needed to. It was around that time that the islands started talking about opening up to the rest of the world. I guess a lot of people didn't want to do that for some reason but I've never really gotten that. I've traveled a bit and I really like other people. They're cool, I guess. Kanto is cool and it has air conditioning in some places. It has a lot of stuff that I like and I feel like there's people that I never would've seen if I didn't leave home and a bunch of landscapes that I'd never be able to paint. That's the thing about painting…"

She barely stopped to breathe.

Marley was clutching her paper to her chest with a self-satisfied smirk. 26 people had pledged to get their own pokédex when they were released. It was an immensely satisfying feeling that her plan had ended up working.

Walking around town had gotten her most of the signatures. She avoided going door to door, thinking that most of them were at work anyways. It let her run into a rather peculiar sight. There was a playground next to a construction site where Machop were patting down the ground into a firm flatness. It was about the most simple construction that she'd ever seen; only a single swing and a little roundabout laid dormant on a bed of sand. The metal pipes were slavishly painted black and green—Surge's favorite colors. Surrounding a flustered figure was an entire class of older kids, mostly boys but with a few girls standing as the outer ring.

"Shouldn't you be in school?" one of them asked. He had a bandage on his jaw that made the wound look puffier than it actually was.

"Where do you go, kid? I'll walk you there myself." His oversized jersey was completely at odds with his scratchy voice and earnest attitude. He sniffed, a disgusting one that sounded like it actually sucked something in. "Educations 'portant."

"S'why you ditched the study group we had, Marvin?" one of the girls asked. It looked as if she raided her mom's makeup drawer for the first time in her life.

Marvin's cheeks flared into a furious blush. "I told ya. I gotta date."

"Yeah right! Like Yukiko would date you!" another boy said. Marley considered him the most boring of the group with the look of a manga protagonist. Black hair, near-black eyes, a blank t-shirt created a background character. "Can we go? Who cares if the kid's playing salesman?"

"I'm not playing salesman! I'm no Honey Boo Boo or Maddie Ziegler or whatever thing you're thinking of! I'm grown like a successful stock investment! There's no crashing around here!"

"He's talking nonsense."

"Kids tend to do that when they're lying."

"Yeah, it's obvious that you don't have any siblings."

Lulu watched, swinging herself gently. Eventually one of the girls got bored and went over to the pretty pokémon. Another left, then another, until the swings were fully occupied. One girl, the only blonde, had taken the job of pushing Lulu to heights that she couldn't achieve by herself. Soon enough she had to grip tightly on the chains so she wasn't sent like a trebuchet shot.

It took them actually approaching for her to finally intervene. She forced herself in between all of them and quickly forgot what she was going to say.

The bandaged boy tilted his head. "What's wrong? We're just getting him to school."

"Kids need to be in school!" Marvin insisted.

"I'm at school! In the streets!" Lane hooked his thumbs together and flared out his fingers separate from each other. He mimed a little flap. "Caw caw!"

"Ain't South Port's pokémon a Pidgeot? Maybe he's from there," one of them suggested.

She decided to improvise since it had been working so well. With arms forming an 'x', she said, "no can do. He's actually selling pokédexes for Professor Oak. Speaking of, sign my petition to show your support for Professor Oak's newest invention."

"Aw sick, it's real? I've heard of it! I'm fo' sure gonna get one myself!"

"I love Professor Oak! You remember when he came down to give a lecture at school? He's the greatest!"

"So humble! Gotta get me one of them pokéthings!"

Lane was left fuming as the older kids slowly departed after signing her petition without even an apology. Lulu walked up to his side, nudging an elbow into him, just at the same time when Marley's self-satisfied smirk had turned onto him. There wasn't any easy way to salvage his dignity after an incident like that.

He threw his hands up into the air. "Fine! You're right! I should've battled them instead of standing passively aside. I thought that a battle would just annoy them, which is the worst time to sell things. Sue me that I didn't want to force them to sign it after beating them!"

She gestured to the paper that had been wrinkled in his tight grip. "How many do you have?"
"A big fat two! I've been having such great luck 'till I've come to this town. Guess since big sis has gotten that many, I should just hang up my hat."

With a sigh, he opened his backpack and shoved the paper inside of it. A strange expression came onto his face as he began digging around the bottom of it.

"What?" she asked.

Lane's attention snapped back to her. The pack was reslung. "Nothing. Well! Gotta go see how the others are doing."

She didn't get the opportunity to ask another question before he started speed walking away with a confused Lulu at his heels.

With a shrug, she walked towards the closest neighborhood. It didn't matter what she did from then on. Despite what Mina thought, she was too slow to reel in a catch and Green was much too aggressive. People liked the demure lady that she was, Marley thought to herself with a self-satisfied blush. Thoughts of what her prize could be filled her head as she wrapped up her signatures.

Green fumed as she circled back inside of town. Sure, she could've jumped the fence, but a litany of problems including 'getting caught when she was doing a relatively minor crime' was included amongst those. Included too was that she didn't want to trek through the wilderness after crawling around a cave that had forced her to her knees one too many times to be pleasant. Even the least delicate girls wanted a break, and that's her excuse for walking through the town rather than diving straight back into the forest.

So instead of arguing with the corrupt cop who wanted a drink if she was going to pass, she walked to the other gate. The small town was mostly boring with a few highlights. There was a pokémon fan club that she'd been kicked out of for stealing somebody's shiny, thankfully never reported. Aside from the few other sights was an empty landscape not considerate at all for the young and the frugal. Relatively few parks were built alongside being the lamest places she'd ever seen and businesses weren't exactly attracted there for the average naysayer—nayseaer?—as much as for a sailor's own amusement. Being a major port city that serviced the larger cities inland had given the town an attractive seaside-centric commercial center. It was amusing walking around once. The second time Green realized she didn't have the money to do anything.

There was a constant presence of ships that overlooked the city. Off the coast she could see a cruise ship leaving. One day she'd shanghai herself a ticket and deal with the motherlode that certainly made up the clientele.

Unfortunately her pathing had been messed up by being in a mostly unfamiliar town. Instead of hanging around the outskirts, she walked into one of the most bustling parts of the city. The entrance to the dock had a modern cobbled pathway and metal archway above it. Not a step outside their rented property was allowed, leaving the shops to have colorful exteriors and amusing gimmicks to attract people. Still none of them competed with the girl that had set up an easel facing the docks.

Green blinked in shock at the girl who was sitting in front of the half-completed painting. Almost lost in the crowd that she'd gathered, Mina chatted while keeping her attention squared into the work that laid in front of her. It was almost mesmerizing enough that she approached. Each movement of her hand was gentle, the brush a sixth finger tapping against her environment. Flicking eyes kept track of both what laid behind her depiction and the simile itself. Green couldn't see the details, but from a distance it almost looked like a smaller, blurrier version of the scene that was happening in front of her. All the while Mina's mouth lazily spat out words at a constant pace. Obviously the girl had no mind for the questions that were coming from behind her. That didn't seem to perturb the onlookers. Whenever one left, another took their place, giving her a solid pillar in front of a fish and chips shop.

The people thinned. The businesses became less tourist-y. Near the edge of the town, she appreciated the close-hauled movement that carried her towards the eastern exit. Down the main street was a dead land, curtains that hadn't been bothered to be drawn peering into families watching television together. Nobody stared back. A long shadow stretched down between her legs. She stopped, feeling the first pokéball she could think of. A glimmer of the sun hit the mega stone. Standing at the center of the street was a Lurantis. Her legs were spread wide, head tilted down underneath the cowboy hat that was slightly oversized.

They breathed deep. Both sides faltered, started, then relaxed. Green licked her lips.

"Now if that isn't an admission of guilt then never let me pass the Bar."

"Eek!"

She whipped around and threw an empty pokéball. Lane tilted his head to let it fly past him.

"You really should not have that as your go-to reaction," he dully said.

"Lane!" She patted down her body to quell the anxious prickling of sweat. "What are you doing here?"

"Tracking down a Rattata. Have you seen any around here? I was thinking that it might've slipped me 'till I laid down a trap," he said.

Without beating around the bush, she pointed to Lulu. "Did the trap have to include a cowboy hat?"

"Yes."

He held his hands out. The jig was up. Without so much as a twitch, she fished out the rocks that she hid in her waistband. One was shaped like those gems she'd seen only on television, with the pointy ends and flat top, rainbows glinting onto the ground as it passed ownership. The other was the other mega stone that he'd taken in the cave. It'd been easy to pilfer them. With Lane and Lulu transfixed by his own gem, she'd sidled around and taken the first hard things that were floating freely in the pack. She guessed that he wasn't pretending, meaning that he'd only noticed because of bad luck.

Only once they were secured back in his bag did he speak again. "So?"

"So what?" she asked. Her head was turned away from him.

"C'mon, you were being straight with me. Let's keep it up. Why did you take these?"

Her lips pursed. "Dunno."

"Yooooooooou dooooooooooon't knooooooooooooow," he slowly said. Each word was dragged on long enough that it became obnoxious even for him.

That did the trick. She finally stopped avoiding his gaze.

"Ugh, what do you want to hear, man? You said that you had some kind of rare stone and I assumed that you weren't talking about the mega stones. I wanted it for myself. What's the big difference here?" she asked with a growl.

"Because you waited for me to say that instead of, I don't know, taking the much more valuable mega stones back in the cave. In fact," he jiggled his pack, "you took that back. What's the deal?"

Crossing her arms and rolling her eyes, tilting her head away and screwing her mouth into a scowl, everything made her the picture of an obstinate teenager.

She finally spoke when he transitioned from a tapping foot to a stomping one, to make sure that she heard it. "Ugh, come on! Are you stupid? I dug into your pack without looking and took what I needed until I found the gem you were talking about. It's pretty easy to understand if you're not an idiot."

"Okay, I'm an idiot. You need money and you decided to rob," his landing gear slowly rose until fingers popped out towards his chin, "the literal child instead of selling those mega stones yourself."

That managed to slip out a blush. "Yeah!? What's the problem? You're the one who gets into weird areas and, I don't know, loots them like you're a pirate or whatever. So what if I played up the quirky traits and made you feel more comfortable around me? Is there a problem with that? Does it make you uncomfortable?"

"And you're playing up the anger right now, 'cause I don't think you'd be this angry for getting caught," he said. It was meant to be a casual statement but her mouth immediately puckered. Apparently that was a sore spot. "In fact, weren't you quirky back when we first met? I think that's more you than, uh, whatever the heck this is. Or were you playing that up to hide that you were being aggressive? Hm. Come on, don't leave me hanging over here. I need clues if Sherlock's gonna find anything."

"Why aren't you angry?"

She whispered, trying to hide behind her thick mat of hair as she asked that. It made him embarrassed. Touchy feely heart to heart!? Him!? Truly it'd be better to pin googly eyes on a pineapple, call it George, and vent your feelings to its soft heart. But he was trying to be better. Not great—better. Didn't he say that? Didn't he realize that someone else wasn't going to take control of him and make his mouth work in words that weren't stupid?

"Because," he rubbed his elbow, now the one to look away, "I kinda understand? If you were stealing Lulu or Dunsparce or li'l Fomantis, then we'd have a problem, but you didn't. And, uh, I kind of understand, and you probably need the money which I also get. So, yeah, uh huh. I also don't really need anything other than my pokémon. Everything's fine, see? So, uh, yeah. I don't really care, basically. Plus you're a client. Can't antagonize the person who's gonna give me money, y'know? Haha, that wasn't that funny."

A predator's eyes poked through the brush of the wild forest.

"You don't understand. It wasn't only about stealing from you. I genuinely had to keep myself from fighting you since we met in that cave because it was maddening seeing you come to someplace that was mine. I feel the exact same way about that Champion." Claws raked against the vines as her eyes turned vicious. "I need to steal or fight him. There's no question either way. He's taken what's mine."

Some distant memory tickled the back of his head that stopped the questioning. The language was throwing him off—need. The only things that he needed were a good time and the essentials, such food and water and petting his cute little Lulu. It would've been rude to say straight to her face that he already trusted her as far as he could throw her, as he would to anyone whose first reaction upon seeing an unfamiliar person was to threaten them.

"Sure, don't poke the sleeping bear. Got it. I'll keep that in mind in the future. We're cool, right? Now that you've attempted to steal from me?"

She wasn't working at full efficiency. Sticking a hand in her face made her stare in confusion. "Uh, yeah? I don't feel like I need to anymore, if that's what you're asking."

Raising his hand in an attempt to be nonchalant, he started walking back. "Good! Welp, I'm going back to the ice cream place. Did we say that we're meeting there? Either way, you should get moving. Marley and Mina've got a huge head start over you. Might as well earn the stone legitimately, yeah?"

Lulu clapped her blades together and ran up to his side.

"You're forgiving me!?"

He threw his arms up, not bothering to turn around. "Yes! Whatever, water under the bridge and all that stuff. Come or don't! I've got things to do!"

She was left behind, dumbfounded. Usually this was the point where she ran away from the police, fought against them and then ran away from the police, got caught in a screaming match. It wasn't meant to end like this. There wasn't supposed to be a person who accepted her, as she understood that it wasn't normal to think this way, weird logic. With only a single hitch in her step, Green joined too. She bumped shoulders against his own, nearly knocking him over.

"I owe you one," she whispered.

"Mhm."

"And, like, are you really okay with it?"

"Mhm."

"...thanks. I, haha, I haven't really talked about it before because you just don't tell people about this. You're kind of weird for being okay with it, aren't you?"

"Keep talking about it and I'll second-guess my decision."

"Haha! Yeah. I'd do that too. Hehe. That's—" she shook off her lingering doubt, a brilliant smile taking over. "What do you think of that Marley person? I know you call her big sis or whatever, and that's weird too, but…"

A one sided conversation continued until she offhandedly mentioned that fairy-types weren't real again.

By the time that he had made his way back to Pallet Town, they had a new champion. Lane knocked on the door to the lab. It had barely turned light but the clamoring inside spoke of either extremely late nights or extremely early mornings, which he assumed was the latter given the Professor's advanced age. Professor Oak's face expressed clear surprise at the little cabal that he had made.

"What in the world?" Oak said, stunned.

The youngest came up first with her hand already raised. "Hello. My name is Mina. I'm from Poni Island, over in Alola. I heard that you made this pokédex thing and I was wondering if you had any on hand. We have problems with kids not knowing what typing Oricorio is and this thing would probably cut down on incidents out on the road if they could just scan 'em. Can I come in?'

"By all means," Oak said.

The next person walked up with their arms crossed out of discomfort. "Hello. I'm Marley. I'm from Sinnoh. I can spread the pokédex and I-I guess I want one. Yeah."

"An aspiring trainer!" Ninjask took that moment to appear from behind Nana, doing spirals around her head. "How presumptuous of me. It looks as if you're already a fine trainer. Please, come in. I would love to help out anybody with a passion for pokémon."

She bowed graciously and walked inside. The next person walked up with their hand already extended, making Oak squeak in surprise when their handshake emphasized the 'shake'.

"Hey, I'm Green! Best trainer in the entire region on the hunt for strong pokémon. This pokédex thing sounds super neat. It'll make it way easier to find strong pokémon. Can I pretty please have one? I'll pay even!"

Oak's smile was brittle. "Green. Yes, I remember you. You used to live across town before your parents moved, didn't you? But the time that you 'visited' last year was much more memorable. I believe a person who, once she was scot free from stealing our only Gyrados, had yelled back to brag that 'Green was here'. Maybe that was a different Green? Maybe there were three different Greens."

She froze, smile locked still. It took a long time to formulate a sentence that wouldn't get her arrested.

"Uh, oops? My mistake."

Oak sighed, letting go of her hand. "If you're trying to clean up your behavior, then I see no reason not to give you a pokédex. Knowing you, I'd be missing one regardless of my response."

Lane had unfortunately started to piece together the life of an unfortunate person: somewhere in the region, there were people wailing about their stolen mega bracelet and blastoisinite. He doubted the master ball was gifted, or at least the money used for it didn't come from innocent sources.

Green walked inside. Another person walked up with their arms spread.

"Professor Oak! When were you going to tell me that your project was finally done? I had to hear about it from some trainer that barged in the middle of a meeting!"

Oak laughed, clapping his friend on the back. "Brock! I thought that I sent you mail explaining that it was done. Maybe it's still traveling?'

"I hope so. I'm only two cities over and you're already forgetting about your old pal."

Oak shook his head, moving aside. "I assure you that's not the case. Take comfort that you'll be the first person working for the League that will have a pokédex."

Brock brightened up with that tidbit. "That's a good first step. If this thing is as amazing as you say it is, then I'll consider it water under the bridge. Hey, maybe we can set up my trainers with it too? Let's put a pin in that and talk about it when there's less people waiting."

The next person that came forwards meekly, trying and failing to smile good-naturedly. Professor Oak had a much easier time giving a genial smile.

"Hi," Bugsy greeted, giving a small bow. "I know that our regions don't have—well, we're trying to be better, but—"

"I won't begrudge you for wanting a pokédex, Bugsy," Oak said. "This was made for all of humanity. You can get one and tell all the League over there that they're free to get ones also."

Bugsy brightened, walking inside with the rest of them. Finally came the papers proving the existence of over three hundred interested parties.

"And though they can't be here, the people of Vermillion would like to say that they can't wait for their own pokédexes either."

Oak couldn't help it. He gave a belly laugh.

"Lane, my boy! When I said that you needed to spread the word, I wasn't expecting all of this! So many regions! You've guaranteed that three regions will have the word spread. This will go a long way towards making these standard issues to every new trainer!"

"I didn't do it entirely out of philanthropy, if you need to know," Lane said. He reached forwards, rubbing his fingers. "This is a taste at the sheer advertising power that is held within this mortal form. It happens that I'm going to Hoenn within the year too. Accept me as part of your cadre, with pay, and I'll spread it to all corners of that region."

Oak appraised the boy. Within two weeks he'd been able to catch the attention of so many important people. If that same magic were worked in another region, along with concerted effort on his own part, then it wasn't fantasy to think that the technology would spread to every profession that dealt with pokémon within a year. The hurdle was the people who doubted that it could be that useful. Seeing hands-on demonstrations of the practical side of the machine should make the supporters spread the word. Even two regions serving complimentary pokédexes would have vast international consequences that could lead to the worldwide adoption of them within all Leagues.

Carefully, the professor said, "I should have a contract with a manufacturing company finalized by the end of this month. Bulk shipments of the pokédex should be possible by the end of the year. If you're willing, then we can work something out. This is way beyond what I was expecting you to do."

Lane could already taste, feel, smell the money. Traveling wasn't cheap. His entire bank account had been relying on Green since they'd been traveling together—which made her earlier behavior even more bizarre. He genuinely tried not thinking about that situation too hard. Not only was he afraid that sudden hurt feelings would sprout from nowhere, but it was also very strange. Usually he liked strange. Apparently this particular flavor of strange was disagreeable with his gut.

With the next leg of his journey funded, Lane started to think about practical concerns such as not being able to pay for his continued existence at that moment. An idea came to mind. His fingers played against themselves deviously.

"You're acting weird again," Green said from the entrance. She didn't go any further, leaning against the wall and keeping her head towards him. He wondered how the compulsion worked and if that was rude to ask about. Was she worried about it activating if she stared into the lab?

He charged inside, waving the papers around. "Never you mind that. With the audience of the brightest minds of Kanto and the greatest battlers of the Orange League and me, the most awesomest person, I present the winner of our contest with a whopping 162 signatures!"

He took broad strides towards Mina. Polite clapping came from all gathered except a single scientist who looked like he pulled two all-nighters.

Marley crossed her arms and shook her head. "Only three signatures off."

Green wanted to taunt her but held off to keep conversation between them at a minimum.

Out came a cut rock that had the color of a pearl, yet the opacity of a gem thousands of times more expensive than it. The gem exchanged hands. She held it at multiple angles trying to find what was unique about it. Realization set in as those sleepy eyes turned to him.

"This is a normal gem. These are everywhere."

That choked the last remnants of clapping out of the lab. Even if nobody else was familiar with it, they were willing to believe more in the gym leader than the kid who organized the event. Only Oak still had interest in the prize as he circled around it and took notes on a clipboard.

Lane shamelessly made an 'ok' symbol with his hand.

"I did say rare specifically for Kanto. So long, and thanks for the fish!"

Chapter Text

"Well, this is where we part ways," Lane said, tipping an invisible hat. "You were pretty good company—for a thief."

Green groaned in annoyance. "I said I was sorry and you said you were okay with it! It should be illegal for you to keep bringing it up!"

"Back home we busted kneecaps for stealing. Well, that's not true. Don't think that was done for a long time. Maybe? I don't remember. Either way, I think that you got off pretty lightly because I'm such a good guy."

"This is the real reason that we have to part. You're too much of a goody two shoes for a little bit of thievery." Green couldn't keep a serious face before she burst out laughing. "Nah, I think carrying around bombs is worse than anything I've done."

In front of the gate into Celadon, their shoes were stained with the grass and dust from the backroads that they took, making them stand out amongst the bright morning's denizens of daily walkers, younger trainers, and those who prefer walking their Growlithes where natural light shined, and whole groups passionate about current events who didn't recognize the little kid swinging his arms around in boredom. She spun around, hands clasped behind her back.

"So you're going to Johto sometime in the future?" A slow wink made Lane's body involuntarily shudder. "Interesting. Maybe we'll see each other again."

Lane knocked against the checkpoint's wall. "In the future I'm going to be rooted here. If you're talking about the far future then I'm going to actually call you a stalker."

Lane mused that a girl's laugh has been compared to bells, birdsong, the sound of the ocean, a symphony; hers should've been nice and melodious frequently descended into cackles, ruining any melodious aspect that could've been in there. "Let's just say that you've stoked my adventuring spirit. All this talk about other regions and typings that I don't know makes me curious. And hey! You still have to get me a Fomantis. We're going to meet up again regardless."

"Oh, right. I'll have one for you the next time that we meet. Li'l Fomantis here already has a destiny, so…"

"You better! I'm going home for now, but I'll be out on the road again soon enough," she said, running off to the treeline. Just before she barged ahead, she spun on her heel and shouted. "You better be stronger the next time that we meet! I'm going to be stronger too! We'll see about your legendary destroying Lurantis when I've beaten the Champion."

Lane waved. Fomantis nearly knocked himself off as he enthusiastically waved.

"What is she even talking about being stronger? She already has a fully evolved team and a mega evolution. Is she going to have a team of mythics or something? Actually catch Mewtwo? Steal a Phione?" A beat, Fomantis sneezing. "Oh, jeez. Hope I'm wrong."

Celadon wasn't much different since he visited last. Cities didn't change overnight, especially ones built in Kanto that had invisible strands of red tape creating a web over the town, tying down the buildings that dared against the height of the department store; yet cities were always changing overnight, with year long construction projects finishing while demographic change in the hundreds shifted, and the tiniest details which were subsumed beneath the great monuments. A fountain that was under construction next to the entrance had taken five years to start with a piece of paper into the half-finished stone structure that didn't even have the piping started yet, standing across a person's garden, having been neglected for years, starting to bloom with the help of a Bellsprout flooding the soil with nutrients.

Visiting the duo's greatest escapade took him to the center of town where a chain fence perimeter staked around the ruins, a fake tear being rubbed off as he saw that little sidestory still hadn't concluded. Signs promoted the company who bought it, a clean 'DE' logo declaring that the site would be developed within the next quarter. Officials in suits stood with their backs to the fence, discussing the possibilities of the property. Former walls were rended into bits by metal claws. The noise of wood and stone falling into the metal containers rang like church bells across the street. Passerby were long used to the constant clanging; Fomantis wasn't, and Lane could admit that he didn't like loudness either, so they retreated pretty quickly. Past Lane's ability to hear was a complicated debate about what to do about the Team Rocket base that was built underneath the entire city. Backfilling the entire place was too costly, collapsing too risky. Then came the provided questionable buyout in the first place, where they were debating whether selling the property to something 'good' like a kindergarten would cleanse the bad reputation or corrupt the current reputation; was a multi-story basement underneath a company that makes gambling houses really evil in essence? The argument raged on—civilly. No raised voices or insults were exchanged.

Lane knew none of this, and most likely wouldn't have cared if he did.

Business came after, before, preferably during pleasure, in Lane's words. Tea could be surprisingly good when you've only had water for weeks out on the road. Walking into the tea store, getting enthusiastically waved over by the lady who scolded him, got him a hero's welcome. He'd only had about three cups in his life so he still let the lady order for him. Lulu and Fomantis enjoyed their herbal blends (not tea, according to the menu) that the shopkeeper said were reminiscent of Kanto's plains in summer.

It was around midday when he walked into the grass-gym. Opening the doors released a floral smell that couldn't be replicated by having a single flower sitting on an apartment's balcony. It was a common project between the pokémon and humans to keep the atmosphere, women of all ages manicuring those plants that wouldn't get them too dirty whereas their pokémon were working at their feet. Trimmings fell down that an Oddish picked up with its mouth. A horde of Bellsprouts greedily fought over a pile of fertilizer that an older woman poured, rolling around in it for a few moments before spreading it around the bed. Working in a gym dulled their senses, as Lane would be the only one to flinch when a jet of fire soared over their heads.

The hedges that acted as railings gave him plenty of time to appreciate the absolute stomp that was happening on the other end of the building. Those bleachers which were set up for Red's fight were gone, since most battles didn't have a wow factor to draw in spectators. Petals and leaves absorbed most of the sound inside the fight, though the challenger's voice managed to snake through the leaves. Brushing past a small opening at the side, Lane collapsed on a dent on the grass where the bleachers must've been placed. He was the only witness to the ending.

Despite having two pokémon who still hadn't been summoned, her eyes didn't leave the paralyzed Raticate that was having trouble turning over. The Raticate was finished off by a storm of leaves that sent him soaring. His trainer dramatically fell to his knees in despair, managing to catch his pokémon before it fell. Erika was walking slowly so he could finish whispering into his fainted pokémon's ear. Polite clapping came from Fomantis.

Erika's soft voice made the trainer jump. She'd crossed the distance with measured, confident steps.

"That was a good effort. Your pokémon admirably followed your orders to their last breath, and it was impressive watching you constantly adapt. However, I'd instantly noticed that you seem to rely on your starter, as there's a noticeable gap in power between him and your other pokémon. I'd recommend getting your other pokémon nearer to his power before challenging me again, or at least working at their power."

The trainer's eyes widened until they were little saucers. "What? None of them are good enough?"

She tried looking sympathetic, though Lane personally thought it was more mocking. "I'm afraid so. What could possibly be the problem if you're secure in everything? I'm hardly one to advocate for overwhelming power, but there comes a point where your attacks just aren't doing enough damage. Your super effective attacks hardly fazed most of my pokémon even though they always landed, strategies faithfully carried, and so much more that I can praise. Whatever your current training is, I would discard it momentarily to focus on output. A Charmeleon shouldn't be relying on Ember at this point."

The boy looked more and more beaten down as she continued talking. Grass parted as his fist slammed into the ground, not sticking around after that. Many gardeners had seen the ending, more interested in a losing trainer's reactions than the battles themselves, and at least had the decency to wait until the boy was out of earshot before tittering.

Erika brushed off her kimono with a sigh. Lane thought that it was more to do with mentally wiping off the battle mindset than getting rid of any excess dirt. He chose that moment to cross onto the field. He could at least see where her complaints came from; compared to Red's fight, this had merely been a summer's breeze, with only a single blade being glazed black.

"Makes hero's rise to champion a little more auspicious, eh? His pokémon were little loyal powerhouses that he empowered within three months or so. So so? Eh, I never kept a calendar."

It was her turn to jump. "Lane! What are you doing here?"

Keeping his act as an omnipotent being came with certain standards. All those time wasting maneuvers were carefully chosen so that he was standing there at that exact time. With an eye on his pokédex, he opened his mouth just as another person entered the clearing. Her paint-crusted finger wiggled in greeting.

"Hey, Lane. Hello, gym leader," she greeted. Professionalism took over in the same vein that it did with Oak, her tone less lazy. That didn't hide the way that her pupils still had a travel time. "The name's Mina. I'm a trial leader over in Alola."

Blinking rapidly at the new arrival, Erika shook her hand. "Oh my! I've only heard of Alola through second hand. My name is Erika. To what do I owe the pleasure? Surely there's more interesting things in Kanto than a grass gym if you're coming all this way."

"Well, there was a specific reason that I came here. I was over in—where was it again? Ah, that's right. I was at the beach over in Alola and—mmm mm mmm."

A hand had coincidentally found itself in front of her mouth. It took an entire sentence until she got the hint and stopped talking. Erika just curiously looked on as Lane tried flicking off the little droplets of spit.

"I'm sure that Erika would love to hear about that later, but let's get the business out of the way first." Lane put away the pokédex and made sure to slightly angle his body so that Fomantis, on his shoulder, was in front. Always show your better side. "I was wondering if you'd take me up as a gym employee for the rest of my stay in Kanto. I could show you how to take care of the grass-types that I know of and test out some ideas that you could spread around in Kanto."

Erika gave a bashful smile. "I'm sorry, but what ideas are these? You certainly showed potential to be a good grass-type trainer when we battled, but…"

There was an idea in the back of her head not to finish the sentence. His initial performance had impressed her so much that she raised the suggestion of hiring him with her secretary, getting a big fat 'no' slammed down. Technically the only-women pseudo-policy of her gym was never officiated, a technicality that broke down when you looked around.

"This is where I come in, huh?" Mina said, pulling out a pokéball. "I still think that the whole pokédex thing is a little more important than trading this little guy. I just picked him up when they flew over the islands. It's not like they're rare or anything."

"It's more of a time thing. Think about how much you're saving me by trading this guy. I would've had to go all the way across the world just for a single Cottonee or hoped that one floated over here."

The pokéball opened. A tiny ball of cotton revealed, its eyes barely visible past the fluff. Lane was pretty sure that Erika's pupils widened enough that a cop would've stopped her for a drug test. She didn't bother kneeling properly, getting her clothes knotted and stained as her arms sank into its body. Clumps of cotton caught on her sleeves that dug into the living cloud.

The pokémon adored the attention. His little leaves patted against her arms in glee.

"What is this? It's so cute!" she asked, voice about half an octave higher.

"A Cottonee. They're a pretty big problem on my side of the world. Random flights will have to be stopped since they like to fly together; you haven't seen a disaster if you haven't seen a plane's engines after running into them. They're pretty beautiful when against a cloudy day since their bright white cotton stands out against the stormy skies. I've made plenty of paintings with them as the main subjects, as they're an image of a cloud without being sullied by all the imperfections of being a cloud," Mina said.

"You're both one-track minds, aren't you? Don't get too touchy-feely with that one, by the way. It's mine," Lane said.

Erika pulled away with her entire body covered. Wagging her arms didn't do much more than make them seep through the fabric, getting even more stuck. She stood back up with as much dignity as possible—very hard when there were hundreds of little needles pressing against her skin. Itching wasn't womanly. She was not going to pick out cotton from her clothes in front of guests.

"Are you trying to bribe me with foreign grass-types?" Erika said.

'Because it's working' went unsaid.

"Let's make this sound as altruistic as possible: this is a joint Kanto-Alolan education initiative trying to modernize the region's understanding of typings and abilities." He had to work to find the smuggest Lane that existed in his heart, who could create a smirk modeled after every punchable face in the world. "More succinctly, I'm so tired of people losing to me because they don't actually know how to battle."

"I hope that you aren't talking about me. If I remember correctly, you were the one to run away," Erika said dryly.

"I just approached you because you're the only gym leader in the region who would be willing to hear me out without asking something stupid like if I know how to battle," Lane said. He picked up Fomantis and presented him. "Look at this guy. Imagine if you knew what the ability 'Contrary' did when we fought. Then there would be no way that you could ever lose to him. Well, Lulu's another story. She'd still beat you."

"More importantly," Mina interrupted, warily watching as Erika's hands clenched shut, "you could learn more about the typings that my region knows and then teach the other people in Kanto about them. We thought that you would be the best to learn since…"

Lane had no care of offending anybody. "The rest of the leaders don't have the personalities for this kind of stuff. Since you're kind of region-renowned for your proper gentle lady persona, we thought that you would get along with them the best. Now, gift time! From me, it's the state-of-the-art pokédex that was invented by Professor Oak. This isn't a bribe; when I mentioned that I'd be going over here, he gave me one specifically for you. What totally is a bribe is that we can collect the data from these typings and then we can then present it to the good professor. You look smarter, are smarter, get in the professor's good graces, and help out humanity. It's a win-win-win-win-win."

Which would then further endear Lane to the professor who would be more lenient whenever dealing with Lane, which then could be exploited into a longer joint tenure that would pay for traveling, which would also be both ethical and self-interested because he was getting tired of hearing silly questions and responses—"that's not a real typing," and "what's that?" and various other statements that had wound up his nerves in a way that surprised even him, making it yet another win-win-win-win-win-win.

Erika turned the device over and over again as if she were making a pancake. It was sometimes hard for Lane to remember that some people in Kanto legitimately didn't even know how to use a cell phone. When she folded her hands at her waist with the device still held, it was also a reminder how she didn't have pockets either.

"And for you, I've got another," Mina said, giving Erika a pokéball. The gym leader took it with her other hand, nearly dropping the pokédex as it became slack in her grip. "That one is also from Alola. Morelull are usually well-behaved when they're caught so he shouldn't give you much trouble."

"So you want me to do what exactly?" Erika said. She couldn't stop staring at the ball.

Lane grinned. "Want to catch up Kanto with the international understanding of typings?"

"International? That's not true," Mina said.

Lane's mouth sucked in. He wasn't used to having him be contradicted when he was talking genuinely. "What?"

"Only Kalos and Alola acknowledge the existence of fairy-types at the moment. Hoenn doesn't acknowledge the existence of steel-types either."

Erika looked lost— not in the bad way. There was an all too obvious hunger in her eyes that demanded more.

Lane was a little disappointed by how the meeting turned out. He actually wanted her to protest being bribed.

"I'm not sure what we're trying to do here," Erika said.

They stood behind the gym, in the little niche that had nothing except dirt. Cars occasionally rumbled by. Passerby watched curiously as their gym leader whispered seriously with a boy her own age behind her gym, on the clock. Tabloids salivated at such easy prey.

"Do you have any pokémon that know fighting moves?" Lane asked.

"No."

"Dragon?"

"No! Of course not!"

"Dark?"

"I'm not sure what that is." She didn't want to sound overly dismissive, but the looks that the pair were getting started turning embarrassing. "Is this going somewhere?"

Lane flicked two finger guns. "Sure is, beansprout. You surely have a bug move somewhere there, right?"

One of the balls rumbled when her fingers passed by it. A mushroom that nearly eclipsed the two in height came out, tiny pincers feeling around the grass for its bearings. Lane leaned down to get a better view of the Parasect. She hadn't brought the bug out during their fiasco at the game corner, but he could clearly see the marks of an experienced battler from the scars on its claws. Compare that to the measly ball of fluff that was having trouble floating against the wind (though seemed to be making a game of trying to fly in place against its biology's wishes) and it became a goliath-style puzzle without the goliath-style ending.

"Is there a weaker bug pokémon that you have? One that won't send a newbie sky-high? Mina specifically said that she just caught the Cottonee. Not sure it could do much else but cleave my poor guy in two," he said as slowly as he could. A glance was afforded to his newest member. "No offense, Cottonee."

Erika continued staring at him with the grace, respect, tolerance, that was required for a lady of her station.

"I'm a grass-type leader," she said.

"Right. Grass leader. Right. No coverage moves is fine. It's fine because I predicted that something like this could happen so—"

Finger guns redirected towards the sky. Erika followed their path before turning back to him.

Checking his pokédex one more time, Lane realized that his prediction was entirely on the mark. Chaos principle struck. He was disappointed but didn't let it get to him that badly. Nobody could be exactly on time everytime. But it had left them no longer as two battlers—now they were two kids with their pokémon out. Above all, the sun shifted so that the light colors of the gym started reflecting harshly against the two. Erika wore her ceremonial clothes everywhere and they were stiflingly hot in a way that she quickly had grown used to from the high-intensity fights that'd commonly happen in her gym, making her nearly impervious to heat; Lane wasn't.

He also wasn't used to being quiet. And the judgmental stare didn't feel nice. He'd rather get one that was for something intentionally dumb than for someone else being late.

"So how do you like being a gym leader? Since we're waiting here and all," Lane said.

Though she didn't let it show, she appreciated that the conversation strayed from such ambitious, region-shaking topics. "I'm in love with my position. At the moment the full brunt of the inner workings have been left to my secretary and family members, which gives me more time to focus on battling. It's indescribable what I feel during battles against strong opponents. Do you not feel the same?"

"Eh. I'm not huge into battling. Being around magic monsters is enough for me," Lane said, watching as Cottonee lost the battle for a moment as it was carried into his chest. The pokémon was the affectionate sort, giving him a nuzzle before pushing off into its drifting state again. Bits of cotton stuck to his faux-suit jacket like grenades on a soldier's bandolier.

"Oh! I apologize for making it sound like I only cared for their battling abilities. Learning how to bring out the best qualities in them is just as fulfilling as taking care of the indoor garden. My mother taught me everything that I know and I caught on to it quickly—almost as quickly as battling. Within a year of learning I could take any pokémon and use it to beat my parents. How about you? You must've taken to it easily yourself considering Lulu's skill," she said.

"Pretty much instantly," Lane said with a shrug. "That's why my title is 'lazy genius'. I can pretty much do anything."

"Who gave you the title?"

"Me."

"...I see."

He nudged his head backwards. "So your whole gym shtick is set up by you or someone else?"

"It's mostly me!" Dismissed before it even got a chance to rise out of her brain, an idea so horrible that she didn't want to remember: telling him about where the design came from. Her father still had the notebooks that she marked in crayon about all the things that she wanted if she ever became a real gym leader. The best/worst part? Most became reality. It was her greatest joy. She'd never let that secret leave her inner circle. "Many people had to be in the loop during the whole process, but nearly all my designs had enough merit that they were introduced into the gym at some point. The girls and I like to make a few changes with the type of flowers that we have depending on the season, which is the greatest design change that it's had since building it two years ago. I'd like to say that I've done a fine job."

"That include the whole gender-skewed hiring ratio or what?"

She smiled sheepishly. "It's an agreement between my secretary and family. She said that my reputation preceded me and that a lot of boys my age may use the position to get closer to me because they're 'that age'. I agreed just because women are better gardeners. As time has weaned on, fewer men have even tried. I'd like to say that this won't be considered against you. I've never really personally stepped into the hiring process so I'm sure that will convince everyone to let it happen, and I can't imagine you being the romantic type."

Lane had been struck speechless, not reacting when Erika started laughing at her own joke. He tried to get any sort of sign from her that she was merely pretending, waiting, nothing. Just the same proper woman who believed that women had natural green thumbs more than men. There were plenty of farms in Kanto—it was an autonomous region that hardly traded with its neighbors because of the natural obstacles in the way—and Lane was pretty sure that those farmers were nearly all men.

It brought up an entire questioning of what exactly a green thumb meant. Obviously it didn't mean actual growing, unless Erika thought that the guys only hauled things around while the women really worked the magic on the soil. There must've been an aesthetic part of it that men were worse at determining the 'feel', 'vibe', 'aura', however topical or spiritual a term that you wanted to pin on it. This further raised the question of what that meant for those who worked within the arts; did men who designed buildings and paint and sculpt all have different brains—that a green thumb was an entirely different set of aesthetic judgements which only women understood?—or that there was some strange claim within that even men weren't good at art, a strange sort of discrimination that he couldn't fathom the reasoning for?

A cloud of dust erupted, finally making Cottonee lose the battle as he was sent spiraling. A burly man wearing a karate gi dismounted from the Fearow that landed (not done because he was a fighting-type gym leader, but that fast methods of reliable travel were limited towards the few flying pokémon that could carry heavy burdens or skilled psychic-types; most trusted the ever-reliable Fearow, including Erika herself), walking up to the kids without the same swagger that Lane could feel from the actual gym leaders. The wingspan that shadowed the kids could keep any load aloft, an exaggeration, from one end of the region to the other.

Lane stumbled as a big fist pounded into his little chest.

"So you're the little man who called me out here? Hah! I would've ignored you if I didn't recognize your name. You're lucky that I check my mail often," the man said. His big hand landed on Lane's little shoulder to help balance.

"I would've asked Sabrina to give you a heads-up but I've never met her. Lane Rand, if you remember," Lane said, straightening up his jacket.

Erika didn't interject until she was sure that the man's name had come to mind. "You're the fighting specialist Kiyo in Saffron."

The man scowled at her, making the girl recoil back. "And it'd be gym leader Kiyo if I weren't put in the same city with a psychic-type specialist. Now what did you want? All that I received in the mail was a promise of some tech from Professor Oak in return for a favor."

"This is the tech in question." Lane traded the pokédex. Another set of hands manhandled the device, though the rippling muscles and lack of decorum made the fiddling much more nerve-wracking. "Meet your new pokédex. It'll soon have a database on every pokémon that's known. If you want to know more, then just call the professor yourself 'cause we're on a schedule. I needed you here to see if you had a fighting-type that could be used against new trainers."

Just like Erika, the man's uniform didn't have any pockets. The pokédex was just stuffed behind the man's black belt as he nodded.

"I've got a new runt right here. He's newly hatched and just started battling, so any kid who has some experience should be able to beat him."

Tyrogue came out of the ball screeching to the sky before taking a low stance. Cottonee took his sweet time to rejoin the group as it had to float against the breeze. When it finally made it back, it settled onto Lane's shoe. Lane kicked out.

The pokémon went flying. It went higher, higher until nearly reaching beyond the gym's roof. Before any sense of tension could build the pokémon started floating down like a paper. Back and forth, like it was on a swing, the fluff floated back until it landed. Lane backed up first which prompted everyone else to follow suit. A few residents stopped to watch the fight. Most didn't recognize who either of the men were but they were sure that a fight that had attracted Erika was going to be good. Cheers came supporting either side, coming down to which trainer and pokémon looked the coolest.

"We're going to do a test. Cottenee here can resist fighting-type moves, so I want to prove that with your little guy here," Lane said.

"Is it a flying-type? That'd make sense why it flew into the air like that," Kiyo said.

It took a few seconds for Lane to comprehend the sentence before he broke out into mutters. "Right. It would even look like a flying-type even if I used fairy wind. That makes sense and it's fine because I think that Tyrogue can learn a dark-type move, right? Hey, Kiyo! Does your Tyrogue know any dark-type moves?"

"What's a dark-type?" Kiyo asked with a frown. "Did you call me all the way out here for a prank?"

Erika jumped at the sudden thump. Another cloud of dust, meager in comparison, flew in a circle around the bag that was just thrown on the ground. Lane casually picked it up as if nothing even happened and started pacing around. Finally he turned back to the fight to return his pokémon.

"Tell me the nearest person who has a dragon-type," Lane said.

"Dragon-type?" Kiyo repeated, rubbing his chin. "Lance actually came down to Saffron. Took some time to himself because of the loss, I imagine. Probably spending some time over here so his family doesn't harass him!"

"Cool. Champion or Elite Four. Whatever. Right. Take me to a phone and then take me to him and—you know what?—nevermind what I just said, instead circle around here so we can pick somebody up before going to Saffron. You're about to watch me get scientific up in here, or magician. Whichever one suits me better," Lane said.

Erika was horrified at the suggestion. She had a sturdy enough sense of self to peacefully accept that the world was vastly larger than she was, along with the threats that came with it. It's partially why the gyms were generally held in 'tiers' from the weaker to the stronger. Unofficial 'tiers' existed as a barely kept secret to encourage trainers to take their journey as a step by step basis. Fighting against Blaine as your first one was susceptible to giving your pokémon life-threatening injuries compared to any other one, and he was a mere gym leader! Holding against her wasn't even on the same planet as fighting against an Elite Four member who firmly held their position until Red and Blue came barging through the entire circuit.

She didn't want to be the one to interject. Yet, to her horror, the man whose arms were wider than her torso laughed at the suggestion, as the heckling from the crowd around them got louder. Every word was heard, and her city (to her shame) had never grown past petty rivalries of all sorts, which surged on these two boys who hadn't grown past their childish want to have their ego stroked. As the intensity increased, those two trainers seemed to be getting more confident. Shouts of the younger generation becoming the new one and Saffron vs Celadon and many more incoherent beliefs that appealed to the primal part of their brains.

"You want to fight Lance? Now this I've got to see! Magician or science doesn't get you around the pure power needed to train a dragon-type," Kiyo said.

"I've got more than power or science or magic: I've got moxie. I've got grit. There is a lot of swag inside of me. And the indomitable force of being in the right place at the right time cannot be triumphed. Now let's get down to the brass tacks. That giant bird can carry both of us, right?"

"Easily! Fearow may not be trained for fighting, but no pokémon that I have can get away from strength training!"

The last straw was Lane actually hiking up on the bird's back.

Erika tried shouting them down. "Now hold on a second! You cannot be serious!"

"Sorry that you're not going to be in the paper Erika. But hey, you still got a pokédex and two foreign pokémon out of this deal. That's got to count for something. When you read the article that I've done the impossible, we can talk about my employment if I haven't been snatched up by then. Now git!" Lane yelled, slapping the bird's behind.

Spearow rolled its eyes at the callous slap and took off just a little more violently than normal. Everyone on the ground shielded their eyes from the sudden gust. Erika felt herself very annoyed, an emotion that seemed reserved for Lane visiting her city and people with bikes taking up the sidewalks. Her usually immaculate appearance had been disheveled by hugging a cotton ball followed by being on the wrong end of a typhoon. Smoothing out the wrinkles and dust didn't do anything except smudge her hands. Dirt was an acceptable circumstance of interacting with plants and pokémon, neither of which she did while being dragged out of her gym for nothing.

It was infuriating actually! Getting dragged out for no reason! A random boy acting like he controlled the whole universe walked through her doors and kept pointing around as if he were a conductor. Then when she was promised a battle, had that broken, promised to be able to at least watch a battle, had that broken too, she was left wanting more—more, being anything but an Elite Four member tangibly having a reason to blame her for interrupting his vacation!

On precise steps she went back into her gym. One of her girls was at the front door.

"Help me get dressed quickly. I need to be somewhere."

Thankfully she didn't have any appointments that day. Otherwise she wouldn't have been able to clean up the mess that she was partially complicit with.

"Fighting a big fish is kind of more in line with what I was expecting. This pokédex seems like it's going to be super useful and I don't see Alola getting their hands on it anytime soon, so when you just wanted some pokémon that could be found by any kid walking outside, I was like, 'what?' This is way more of a favor," Mina said. She was trying to talk while still imprinting the scenery into her head. "Not that I mind. I'm not going to be a trial leader for nothing. I think we're making it a bit too much like a League though. First the gyms and then the badges and then we're gonna have our own Champion. They're really dragging their feet on everything though. We still don't have a real Champion chosen, nor the theming of our gym leaders that aren't gym leaders. Oh! What's that city?"

Lane had to lean far back to hear the relaxed voice over the wind. Not that it was especially hard to do so since she had to wrap her arms around his stomach, but it led to an uncomfortable position where her mouth was pressed against his ear. 'Uncomfortable' was the best way to describe the flight. High winds made it near-freezing without long-sleeved clothes. Even with your body fully covered, it felt as though the wind's frigid fingers were tearing through any opening they could find. Being sandwiched between pure muscle and a little girl who could turn into a kite if her grip loosened wasn't exactly the same as a leather seat with a stewardess handing out cocktails either. He felt flying was a thing that he could say that he's done before and leave it at that. There was undoubtedly a thrill to being stories up into the air, aloft with only the wind, and it was certainly smoother than riding the back of a Tauros without a saddle, though it tasted like a bad trip of nostalgia as he simply reminisced on the thrills that were hundreds of feathers below.

She repeated the question. Neither of them were great conversationalists when there was an entire region on display. From the great sapphire to the shrinking jade to the gems that didn't gleam yet still were cherished, all was visible on the back of the bird. Lane couldn't really see why people liked the place so much. Being stuck in a mountainous region with no hope of escaping was the plot to a horror book.

She repeated the question again. Lane looked to where her finger was pointed. Squat buildings. Triangle roofs. Very western.

"I have no idea!" he said.

They landed at the edge of Saffron, inside the city walls while being at a place Lane thought must've been specifically made for fliers. Nobody seemed surprised as they touched down next to the pokémon center, neither from their landing or components; two unrecognizable kids and a not-gym leader weren't exactly cutthroat in Kanto's largest city. The largest of them led the group into a part of town that Lane never got to explore: large buildings, large wallets, anything that superseded the size of a singular person was allowed in the only place where Kanto's traditional views faded. Up to date infrastructure and the newest technology were hand-in-hand inside all the hi-tech corporations that made the heart of the city their homes. International shops were what most people were interested in and made up most of the city's tourist traffic, as the department store only had everything a person could need rather than want.

They were bumping shoulders, literally at times, with the higher society, a people who were physically present yet were of a different cloth. Out of all of them, Lane was most surprised that Mina had no qualms with pushing people that got too near. Her shoulders were rock solid concepts that bluffed against men twice her height without worry. He didn't bother asking if Kiyo knew where they were going since you weren't supposed to ask a question you weren't ready to hear the answer to. An unspoken question was answered when Kiyo exclaimed in surprise when they'd been walking next to an open-patio restaurant.

The beret and peacoat nearly made Lance unrecognizable, as was the relatively invisible presence that he carried being another person in another restaurant. Press was limited to an undercover man drinking coffee behind them and the only fawning was done by the waiter, attempting to contain his excitement with a near-illegible order that had been scrawled on his notepad. Kiyo dragged the kids directly to Lance's table.

Lane didn't need any prompting. Despite having a much shorter stride, he put enough power to be in front. The other person at the table didn't matter. They didn't matter so much that Lane didn't acknowledge their existence as he stuck his hand out in front of their face, getting an annoyed glare from Sabrina. Above drinks not for kids, Lane's arm wiggled around.

"Mr. Lance. My name is Lane, allegedly. Historian, scientist, magician. I would like to battle against you. Don't matter if you have your weakest team or strongest."

Lance had to look between all the people who were now gathered at his table, swallow, before looking at Sabrina—raised eyebrow telling of her opinion. He wasn't going to get any help.

"Why did you let a kid interrupt me in the middle of lunch, Kiyo?" Lance asked. He started eating his avocado toast again. Say what you will about the thing making no sense, it was good.

A heavy hand fell on the kids' shoulders. "These ain't normal kids, Lance. The one next to me knew the Champion and the other is from another region—Aloma, or something. They're insisting there's something big they discovered."

"Many kids have crazy theories. So far I haven't seen a Golbat able to challenge a meteor," Lance said dismissively. "I'm in the middle of something. Let them go play at your dojo instead."

"Then let me sweeten the deal." Lane pulled out a pokédex from his bag. "See this? It's Professor Oak's new invention. I'll give you one for free if you battle us. Sure, you might get one eventually, but isn't the cost of opportunity in waiting for this thing way too enormous for you to ignore?"

Lance stared at the brick of plastic in disinterest. He shook his head, making a show of adjusting his chair. "I've heard of it. The dex or something or the other. I have no need for it. All of pokémon that I need to know the details of are from the clan. No piece of technology is going to substitute generations of experience."

"Sure, until the new typings, moves, and abilities are implemented into this. Then you're constantly going to be playing catch up with everyone else. Because, level with me on this, you know that everybody is going to scramble for this just as I do. The general knowledge and experience of the general trainer is going to skyrocket when they don't have to rely on their close friends and experimentation. Why not get ahead early?"

Lance rolled his eyes, though the slight quaking of his lips was visible enough that even Mina could tell he was starting to enjoy himself. "Tell me, what does this matter to someone of my position? It's no exaggeration to call me one of the strongest trainers in the world. The general public's ability doesn't change that most don't have the talent or grit to ascend far enough to give me a good fight. Therefore, it's useless to worry about how the general public is doing. Far as their ability goes, they'll never catch up."

"You shouldn't only be thinking about their ability. Your experience may be in dragon-types and you may think that your experience has taught you everything about pokémon, but au contraire! Can you draw by memory every pokémon's tracks?"

After a moment of contemplation, Lance conceded, "no, I can't. What situation would I ever need to know that?"

"Don't underestimate the power of imaginative thinking!" Lane knew that he was onto something, and let his smirk fully turn mocking. "Consider this, if you will: a strange, aggressive pokémon has been sighted and you're tasked with dealing with it. How do you proceed? Without a pokédex, you're forced to actually fight against it before learning about it. With a pokédex, you'll know that it's a Seismitoad from Unova that's a water, ground-type. Besides, how can you say no to good information?"

It took a moment of contemplation before Lance took the napkin off his lap and threw it on the table. "I can pick up my own pokédex, but you've earned yourself a fight. Let me at least finish my meal."

Mina didn't even think of asking when she slid herself into one of the free chairs. Her finger jabbed over to a plate next to Sabrina, holding shrimp in some kind of sauce. "Can I have a bite of that?"

When Erika finally arrived, she could already see the crowd that gathered from the sky. Dismounting quickly, she ran up and, even though it caused her great shame, used her status as a gym leader to shove through the wall of reporters then a wall of children then a wall of businessmen playing hooky until she made it to the front row of brave idiots who wanted to see the action up close. Between the multiple public arenas that were in the city, Kiyo's dojo was chosen as a popularity boost and an apology for using him as a taxi. Nearly all the people who were in earshot to the argument had followed them. Diffusing from those original people were those wondering why so many were gathering around the usually empty building. Once the message hit the streets, an exponential effect had begun.

An indescribable smell to anyone not familiar with dojos overwhelmed even the crowd of humans clamoring for their seats. No bleachers or mats were present which made the young stand as the older ones sat on their knees. Some locals who were quick to react had been able to bring lawn chairs to stretch on as the combatants got their pokémon ready, quickly pushed out as they were taking up valuable space. The students of the dojo acted as security and didn't protest as she walked into the group discussing the upcoming match. Sabrina's trainers gave her a short nod as their pokémon worked at constructing a barrier to protect the spectators.

Inside the translucent purple wall were the two sides chatting. Lance and Sabrina were talking about how to sell the fight afterwards. Lane and Mina were sitting on the wooden floors discussing how best to paint the mountains.

He was taken out of it by a sudden yanking on his ear. It was gentle, sapping any effect it could've had. "While I admire your tenacity, do you not think that challenging an Elite Four member makes your claim more the work of a madman than an inspired genius?"

Mina willingly turned away from the adults. "Hey, Erika. Long time no see."

Lane tapped Erika's hand that was holding him. "See this? This is the rage that comes from the lack of knowledge. It's an anger of not knowing. Unknowing. Lack of knowing?"

"Dumbness. Like that Green lady," Mina said.

"Yeah. Look, it was cute when people thought that fairy-types weren't real. Then I learned that people don't know what a steel-type or dark-type was and that's like, wow, okay. Then I learned how there's a genuine gap of knowledge with abilities which was just silly. Some of these things are known in Johto! Do you even know what a Bellossom is? And yet you have a Tangrowth, which apparently isn't common knowledge on how to evolve it! Abilities are just basic pokémon!"

"It kind of is," Mina said, nodding.

There was a very slight twisting to the grip. She gave special care to not let her nails get caught against his skin.

"I am not afraid of inflicting harm upon you if you continue casually insulting me."

"What insults? I'm just saying that the whole region is kind of stupid because—"

A harsh yank finally made the hand a danger, making his body shudder in anticipation that a delicate part was held under threat of violence. She leaned down into the ear that was held open.

"Do you understand how rude that you're being? It's one thing to claim that I don't understand a part of pokémon, another to act as though I don't deserve my position."

"Well, it's more that the region as a whole—" he yelped when another tug came. "Okay, it's more that the knowledge hasn't spread, which makes you people definitionally—" another yank made his jaw shudder. "There's nothing wrong with being ignorant!"

She gave it the firmest yank yet, frustrated grunts eating her sneer. "I was hoping that this was your off switch, but it appears that your nasty language is simply built in. Do you have no idea how saying these kinds of things makes it harder to convince people?"

"Um, no?" He held his hands up when she started clenching harder. "I'm not good at those words stuff! Please let me go!"

"I'm not sure. Perhaps some old-fashioned training can teach you to keep your mouth shut whenever an insult would come out," she said.

"Please don't. I need that ear to focus on the battle," Lane said. He tried eyeing Mina for help, the girl whose attention had already drifted off to a couple who was standing at the opposite end of the room, the girl berating the man in a scene that emphasized their distinct features, the girl's sketching hand twitching in anticipation. "Look, um, I'm sorry for insulting you? My mouth is stupid and even if I mean it, I don't really mean it to be this mean? And, well, uh, I don't know. Are you apologized to yet?"

Erika sighed, finally letting go of his ear. "It was not a good apology, if that's what you were asking. I'll accept it, if for no reason other than Lance looks as though he's ready to begin."

Cordoned off from the others by the dojo's disciples was a pseudo-VIP area that had anybody notable sitting in two rows. She sat down in the front, hands trying to stay folded in her lap and quickly devolving into nervous habits, then returning to nervous habits that were less harmful since various important people made a scary ensemble of the region's power: herself, Sabrina, various supermassive reporters, the mayor, a media mogul who'd been eating at the same restaurant, and the dad of an important villain who didn't exist yet and would only become important 83 years from then.

Cameras hung up on sturdy beams to give multiple angles on the fight. Networks hurriedly cleared up slots to show the first fight Lance was participating in since his loss, along with being the first fight of any Elite Four member since their loss, along with an Elite Four member descending from their place in the high castle to participate in what could be called a street match. Everybody who couldn't fit inside were ushered out to watch the match through their televisions. Still some hung around outside the door just to hear the announcements.

A rowdy crowd of women, children, and men whose weekdays were cleared and those whose weekdays weren't cleared were already chatting loud enough that individual conversations were shouted. No speaker system was set up inside of the dojo. Thus the announcer, a thirty-so year old man who worked as maintenance and coincidentally had a silky voice, had to shout his croon above the din of excitement.

"You heard it here, folks! This is the first match that Lance has ever been a part of since being dethroned from being the unbeatable draconid! Being challenged by a pair of complete nobodies, ladies and gents. Trainers like you and me. If you asked them for their badges, they'd ask if beating Lance would give 'em all the badges! This is going to be one for the history books folks. We're here live in Kiyo's dojo on..."

Nobody could hear Lance's quiet, "not a draconid," over the announcer's yells.

Mina sat with her legs spread wide, shoulders being massaged. Lane leaned down next to her head. He assumed a surly, swarthy voice as if he were huffing with each syllable. Next to her Lulu was offering a towel and water bottle that were denied.

"Do you think we can win?" Lane whispered.

"Nah. I'm good enough to become a trial leader but not enough to beat everyone—that's what being Elite Four means if I'm not mistaken." She leaned backwards slightly. "Do you think we can win?"

"I win everything. That's why I'm the lazy genius."

Mina nodded. "People call me that too. Usually my dad when he gets mad that I didn't do my chores."

They walked to the center of the impromptu stage when Lance did. The man flared his cape out just for dramatic effect, which made most of the crowd swoon. Nobody at the front was moved. Erika started chewing her cheek, imagining if she was put in the same embarrassing situation, while Sabrina was wondering what day the taxes for her gym were due.

"I hope that dex is mine no matter the outcome of this battle," Lance said.

"And I hope that you throw your strongest dragon moves out just for show," Lane said. "So this is a two versus one, three pokémon each person, and no substitutions?"

"Two versus one, each combatant can use three pokémon, and there will be no substitutions!" the announcer yelled. From his slight perch on three mats stacked on each other, the man gesticulated wildly as he shouted. "Three! Two! One! Send out your pokémon!"

The crowd roared. None of the battlers were too anxious over what amounted to a back alley scrap. Three different pokémon were chosen with only a bare amount of strategy behind them. A tiny worm-like pokémon growled cutely at the opposing Cottonee and Wigglytuff. Lance huffed at the strange choices that looked as if they could be found next to Route 3.

There was always a kid inside of him, that preened from the attention, that always begged to be let out, guiding him to raise his hand dramatically to give out a command, no matter if his opponents were way over their heads.

"Target the grass-type with Dragon Rage!" Lance yelled.

The blue flames blew into the air at a speed belying the pokémon's size. Powerful and relentless, there was no opportunity that Cottonee could've been able to dodge the flames. Each mote of fire impacted with its cotton and dissipated within its fluff. The pokémon flapped its leaves around merrily just to rub in its lack of pain.

Lance gaped. Erika paused with her teeth hovering just over her nails. Sabrina didn't show any outward reaction save for her jaw jutting forwards. Reporters dropped their pads of paper.

Mina took advantage of the lull in combat as even the Dratini was too shocked to react. "Hit 'em with a Dazzling Gleam."

Touching down was the first instance of pink floating from that specific pokémon's body, nobody knowing to shield their eyes when a bright flash took over nearly half the room. Those that resisted the light better could see that it undulated between the colors of the rainbow, sparkles shot shooting out from the main body that had the intensity of a flashbang. They seemed utterly repulsive to the young dragon who could barely keep itself upright when under their influence, screeching when the pain became too much. It was over in a moment, much too long for the dragon-type. Its noodle body slumped.

Lance took a long time to recenter himself to reality. Reality was the place where he had recently lost to a few kids, went on break to avoid being yelled at by his family, then took up a challenge only to end up in the exact same situation. The same reporter who was in the stands during the fight for the champion's spot was hungrily watching another beatdown of the region's most vaunted celebrities, and Lance could feel the sleazy gazes thinking of how best to dismantle his hard-earned reputation. Unhooking another pokéball, he decided that any farce would be broken down before silly ideas could be spread.

"Dragonair! Send a Thunder Wave to the grass-type and Dragon Rage the Wigglytuff!"

"Stun Spore him first," Lane said.

The lazy order had gotten an immediate reaction from the Cottonee. Its spores that were shaken from the fluffy body sped ahead like predator missiles. The thin wave of electricity that briefly connected the two pokémon weaved between the yellow balls that flung into Dragonair's face, causing it to sneeze as its body unwittingly started coiling into itself. Flickers of embers shot out, as the rumbling torrents in its throat didn't stop just because its neck muscles were locking up.

Another stream of blue fire followed, cutting across the remaining spores and lighting up the room. Even the amateurs in the audience could recognize the sheer difference in power between Lance's two pokémon, a fire that burned brighter and sliced across like a knife, which only further drove in the point when the Wigglytuff was able to block the flames just by poking out its gut. The pokémon slammed its stomach and sent another blast of light over the field.

This time the psychics were ready. The barrier dimmed to protect the eyes of the humans so they could get a full view of the writhing snake. It slammed against the floor as unfamiliar energy bathed over it, sometimes spasming as the effects of paralysis still worked away at its body. Even through the pain it still reveled in being above the normal crop. The pokémon lifted its head the moment the light faded away and opened its tiny mouth. Little bundles of fire wrapped into each other bounced out in a shotgun spread that sputtered against any surface. Lazily aimed, only a single one managed to shred through the ball of cotton.

Cottonee never stood a chance against an attack from a pokémon multiple leagues above him. Purple motes of light sizzled as the fire, without anything to sustain it, evaporated into the air—Cottonee evaporated too. Lane held out the pokéball and withdrew the pokémon so her body of tinder didn't get turned into a campfire.

Another flash of light covered the battlefield as Lane easily sent out Lulu. No more worries about proving his 'theory', now focusing on ending the battle after giving a token effort. Lulu seemed to understand that, recognizing the man across from her from pictures. Her head kept whipping back and forth as if there were any escape.

Before his pokémon even fainted, Lance called it back. Without any expression, he threw his last pokéball. A giant figure replaced it. The pudgy belly didn't seem to give it any extra weight as its limbs moved around nimbly. The tiny wings were able to easily keep it aloft, each flap nearly hitting its head against the ceiling.

Its form blurred. In an impossible movement, an orange streak impacted with the pokémon who'd been flexing towards the crowd. The Wigglytuff bounced against the wall, ceiling, then ground before rolling to a stop. Its fat made it look disturbingly like a tennis ball with each impact. An orange foot landed on its face as Dragonite blasted blue fire onto the pokémon's face. Its huge nostrils expanded as it snorted in disbelief. Even its own Dragon Rage that could melt steel slid off the pokémon's sides like it was taking a shower. One last kick made it bounce around like a pinball, knocking it out somewhere during the fight.

All Lulu was able to manage was glancing back at her trainer in betrayal before being picked up by a biological hydraulic press. Little hexagons were the only thing separating a stapler's razors from shredding her paper-thin body. Protect was a handy move, and he was glad to watch the shield stand up even as Dragonite thrashed her around like a chew toy.

"Aim for the eyes! It'll totally let go of you!" Lane yelled.

Lurantis tried smacking the beast's eyes only for it to clench down harder. Lane decided to withdraw her before Protect even ran out. Unwilling to give up, Mina took out her next pokémon as Lane reluctantly brought out his last.

Hail started falling. Children raised up their hands to catch the tiny ice particles that sank into the ground, dissipated against their skin without leaving water. A glorious mane of pale blue hair graduated into white, flowing without any force keeping it aloft. The fox pokémon's snout seemed like it was smiling as it took to the field with each step almost being a prance. It leapt to the side as a rock tried splitting the floorboards and lowered its snout through the blue fire. The brief opportunity it was afforded allowed it to howl, causing a screen of distorted light to form. Looking through it gave the same effect as looking through a soap bubble. The Dragonite's snout, now with a little bit of rainbow mixed in with its furious orange, scrunched as it flew forwards to continue the brawl close ranged.

Kneeling next to the shivering form, Lane talked casually as if they weren't in a fight. "Come on, Dunsparce, it's just a dragon. Nevermind that you're not suited for these big fights. Just throw a rock or two and it'll be over with! Just divert attention and you'll have done a great job."

Just to taunt him, a streak of orange sped across the field and splayed Dunsparce against the invisible wall. The pokémon only managed a pitiful whine before he was also recalled. Without any reason to be there, he moseyed over to the line of important people that were in the front row. He ignored the questions and the microphone pushed into his face. Inching his butt into position, he only gave the man a few seconds to respond to the sudden rump that forced itself into the reporter's former seat. The already cramped spectators grumbled as they pressed against each other.

"So how'd you think? Pretty convincing that there's a fairy-type when multiple pokémon shrug off Dragon Rages," Lane said to Erika.

A microphone touched his cheek. "So the reason that Lance's Dragon Rages were ineffective during this match was because of a, as you call it, fairy-typing?"

Erika had trouble coming up with an appropriate response. For a second she forgot that multiple other gym leaders, political leaders, and microphones were able to hear her. If only she were a little older, two years at least, then she'd have a mature enough brain to skillfully dance through the ball of interaction. Unfortunately the wiles of the young weren't nearly comparable to those who had a lifetime to learn to hold their tongues and she was due for learning about the reach of a single easy to misunderstand statement.

"The way that you two presented it made it look stronger than even dragon-types," Erika breathed. "It's obvious that neither of you are comparable to Lance's team and yet you were able to bring him down to his last pokémon without taking a scratch."

"It was mostly the element of surprise, but yeah. If my Cottonee was evolved then we would've had a more impressive showing. Probably would've been able to even beat this Dragonite with a little coordination."

"Really?" Erika shrieked. Nobody paid attention in lieu of Ninetales being used in a one-man basketball game, a blue ball that was being dribbled across the field. Active, sure, she'd occasionally leap out of the way of an attack, before being caught again and flipped sports with a stray strike. Already Dragonite had adapted to only relying on basic moves rather than those with dragon energy, as they would strangely glide off the pokémon's cool fur.

"Sure. We bring out Whimsicott and Wigglytuff. Her Wigglytuff sets up screens while Whimsicott uses Follow Me. If Whimsicott is still able, then we Stun spore or Leech seed depending on the situation. She brings out her Ninetales and then we win. Simple, prolly." Lane nudged her shoulder. "So is that job still open? I'm willing to teach you about the pokémon that I know about. Maybe your gym will get a sudden donation of Lurantis if I'm added to the staff."

Erika imagined what the foreign boy carrying miracles could do. A field of cotton. A field of striped pokémon that shone in the sun. Maybe even more incredible pokémon that were also green. She could imagine the indoor gym becoming a paradise with flowers from all over the world growing in vines up to the ceiling and self-sufficient trees growing fruits nobody had heard of before and glowing stalks that provided light so the building would have to rely less on artificial lighting. Who knew what was possible? She didn't consider herself the type to ask that. She dreamed big and found ways to make her dreams a reality.

They shook hands as Ninetales was laid out on its back, tongue lolled out onto the floor.

Chapter Text

Erika took a while to come to her senses. It was early morning. That's what the sun angrily rubbing against her eyes was saying. Not a time she'd be awake if there weren't duties to be done, which meant that there was no time to be entertaining random events on the street. Whether it be a man who was making a fool of himself or kids that weren't supposed to be out that late, she tried ignoring the city. This mindset only came from lacking enough sleep; she'd turn normal after her first nap of the day. The only unavoidable obstacle that morning came in the form of a slumped dark figure at the back of her gym, the same place where she'd first been introduced to fairy-types.

Very few distractions would be considered pressing enough for her to interrupt the morning commute. Experience tempered the heights of her awareness, the pinpricks she'd get from a gambler singing to himself in the street in glee or a blatant member of Team Rocket skulking at the mouth of an alleyway. It was pleasurable, realizing that horrible night had improved the city. Since the destruction of the game corner, vagabondery and roguish behaviors, the antisocial and smelly, had been reigned in. Most actually started working on the habit. Some transferred towards other legal betting options like battle bets (the Championship fight coincidentally had an unprecedented surge in money betted). All said, there was a sudden lack of people wandering the streets at strange times mourning their losses, which reignited the debate if gambling was acceptable if the main distributor disappearing had made the city better.

This person sleeping at the back of her gym had become abnormal. That was a good thing. It made it more noticeable, and thus harder to ignore. That was bad. She had wanted the last wisps of sleep to keep hold until she staggered to a napping spot.

Dawn crept over the building, excluding the two of them in a pitch black shadow. The light posts that were supposed to be on flicked off minutes after she left the front door. Unsure of how to approach him, she leaned down to get a better view of the man's face. The closer she got, the more boyish his features became.

"Excuse me, sir. This is the gym, not—"

She screamed as the man leapt up to his feet, just barely reaching up to her height. He tried hiding the fact that he was sleeping but the slight slur to his words wouldn't fool anybody.

"Hey, boss! Good to see you! Didn't know that my first shift was going to be this early, but I'll do anything that ya need!" Lane said.

Breathing shallowly, it took her physically holding her chest still to finally calm down the frantic heartbeat.

"What are you doing?" she asked, calmly. As calmly as possible. Ignore the frantic arrhythmic leaps of her voice and slightly sharp tone.

Lane brightened up and smacked the building. "I wanted to sign up for a room at the pokémon center, but I forgot that my pass for being allowed in Kanto had expired about a week ago. So all those services that I'd been getting are now no longer free unless I present a good reason to renew my whatchamacallit, breeder's permit or whatever. I don't got one though."

Thinking deeper about it, Erika wasn't sure how Lane got one in the first place. You needed to be actively distributing pokémon—which she didn't see—or breeding them—which he couldn't do with how much traveling he was doing. A mystery that she was going to find out later.

"That doesn't explain why you're at the back of my gym," Erika said.

"Of course it does. I no longer have free rooms. I also have no money. Ergo, I have to sleep outside. It's fine, isn't it? What? Am I not allowed to sleep outside once I'm in a city?"

"Yes!" Erika said.

"Why?"

"Because it isn't right!"

"Then why can I sleep outside when I'm not in a city?"

"Because there aren't buildings that you can sleep in!"

Lane put a finger to his chin, thinking through the sentence as if a philosopher had said it.

"But if I don't own any of the buildings, then there's these things called 'property rights' that I can't infringe or Officer Jenny's gonna come and lock me up."

"Then buy a room! There's cheaper ones around the pokémon center for people in your exact situation!"

"But do the buildings really morally call us to sleep in them?" At her aggrieved look, he gave a shrug. "Fine then. I'm sleeping outside because I don't care about what rules that society has in place. I'm not going to use the rest of my money on a stupid hotel room or apartment complex. Not that an apartment would take a kid anyways, so here we are! You can't force me to do anything!"

"I can let the pokémon center open its doors for you as long as you're working here. Please drop the subject and—" Erika accidentally took too deep of a whiff. There was pine somewhere deep beneath a moldy smell mixed with dry dirt. Human sweat had long lost precedence in the concoction. "You will need a shower if you're to enter my gym."

Confused, Lane took a sniff at his armpit and hummed.

"That's pretty bad. Does that free pass to the pokémon center start now?"

The rest of the employees had arrived by the time that Lane was fully groomed—a new man who smelled like a man with the smell of 'grit and determination', so proclaimed the shampoo bottle, walked through the gardens. Over the hedges was Erika taking her place in between the trees already on the first nap of the day. Without wanting to deal with whatever reaction his new boss would have for waking her up, Lane decided that familiarizing all of his pokémon with their new workplace would be the best use of time. Lurantis and Fomantis both enjoyed snuggling among the new plants of the area while Dunsparce enjoyed how the bushes easily hid him from the employees. The girls who started their gardening work would greet him, a how you do, watering the planters and gushing over his foreign pokémon, giving legitimate advice as to what being a member of Erika's little piece of the world would be like.

A few girls approached, wary about a kid being added to the roster before he dramatically retold the story. For once he had a legitimate counter to when people thought he was invading a place. It felt strange.

That atmosphere of serenity was ruined as a suited woman made her way through the maze, fully visible to everybody in the room. A black dome sailed above the leaves like a sailboat. They locked eyes when she rounded the last hedge. A pale finger beat down on the air in front of his nose.

"I'll deal with you later," the woman said.

"You're not my mom," Lane immediately retorted.

"I wouldn't want my child to suffer what you will have to go through," she said over her shoulder, walking into Erika's impromptu bed.

Some of the other girls had taken positions around the trees as if their bodies were hidden at all. The older ladies dissuaded the younger ones from being too near, having the memory of the previous times she'd gotten this angry. Fomantis crawled onto his head, Lurantis on his shoulder, Cottonee on the other, and Dunsparce on his back, as they could read the room wonderfully. There was a moment when everybody thought that nothing would happen as the woman paused in front of Erika to appreciate her sleeping face.

Her mighty hand rose and descended. Gasps rang out. Lane flinched. Just before it impacted her cheek, its arc curved to slap Erika's shoulder. Another hand grabbed her other shoulder. Erika was jolted awake from the impact just in time to be shaken around like a smoothie.

"Sometimes I wish that you were wearing normal clothes because I want nothing more than to lift you up by the collar. What were you thinking?"

"About wha? Who?" Erika mumbled.

The woman stuck out her hand that had an entire stack of papers clenched down into a mesh of black and white and read all over. Newspapers and their less reputable cousins fluttered down onto the grass. The first coincidentally landed on a full page article about the fight from the previous day. Most were more professional than the smaller pamphlets that had angry faces plastered on their front pages—most. Erika picked up one of the most popular of the visible bunch, the Eight City Circuit (est. four of her lifetimes ago, 60 years, by a prospector who originally had been a man of letters that heard of Hypno who taught each other the English language at a cave that today was paved over by Fuschia, of which upon finding the Hypno he suddenly decided that he didn't want to trek back across the Johto-Kanto border, making use of his literacy and biting applications of said literacy; historians argue if the man himself or the Hypno were the true CEO of Eight City Circuit). Grayscale lines creating a picture of Lane whispering into her ear nestled between the previous article of a Mankey who built a bridge by himself over the course of ten years and bold words declaring "TREASON WITHIN THE KANTO GYM CIRCUIT!?" Opening up to the page had a full story from a freelance reporter that had snuck in a seat against the wall. Most of it was a normal recounting of events from the battle until it came to the very end when Erika had made a comment about how 'weak' Lance was.

Closer inspection on the papers revealed a bizarre fixation on an offhand comment that could barely be heard over the fight, with four witnesses within hearing distance if she were being generous. Even the tamest of them said that the grass gym leader noted how the fairy-typing could be even stronger than dragons, while the seedier publications outright said that she declared the typing to have surpassed dragons. Again, four witnesses, ones that she could list on her hand. The 'eyewitness' who heard her say that she'd 'compromised national security by saying that common pokémon could even beat Lance' was the surly business mogul of Saffron who sat at the other end of their row.

It was nearly amusing how her image was being used to fit whatever these people fantasized about. She dug through the pile to find the most incredible accusations. "It must be a pretty slow week if they're so focused on this."

"Is it? This is supposedly a brand new typing that just had its debut in the region. Lance had already suffered some reputation hits since those two kids had beaten him, and tried gracefully recovering by calling them prodigies; now we have kids from the side of the street picking up pokémon that have been perceived as weak beating him down. Doesn't matter the details. The fact that Lance almost lost is scaring people." She scanned the treeline before locking eyes with Lane. "You! Get in here right now. I don't remember your name but we're going to be very familiar by the end of this."

Lane strutted around the gawking girls with his pokémon at his heels. Though Dunsparce wasn't in the spotlight exactly, he was shivering underneath the intense glare of the woman. Lurantis was trying her best to match the stare while Lane killed her with a winning smile. His other pokémon did the good PR by looking as cute as possible. His hand extended.

"Name's Lane if you want. Historian, though I'm deciding on my job title at the moment. You can think of me as a scientist and a salesman, magician and historian, if you want the full breadth of my potential."

"I'm Erika's secretary, Yoko. Think of me as a manager, secretary, and public relations all wrapped into a single position. Yesterday Erika said that we were going to hire a boy who claimed to have region-wide findings that could increase our gym's prestige. Naturally I was skeptical and if I were a more cautious woman, I would kick you out without thanking you, especially since she went ahead without consulting me." A quick glare was returned by serene acceptance. "This does present an opportunity however, and I doubt that we can back out of this now that Erika made these boneheaded comments."

"It does? I thought that you would've been angry about bringing so much negative attention to the gym," Erika said.

Yoko allowed herself to smile slightly. "Oh, I am angry. We're a public institution. The maxim, 'any attention is good attention' doesn't apply to us. We need good attention. Your comment was wholly negative. That we're currently hosting a person who has knowledge from outside has potential, on the other hand. I believe we have the ability to take it by the horns, subvert it so this'll be better for the long run. Welcoming this new change while apologizing about the comment towards Lance, along with clarifying that you believe fairy-types will bolster our region's strength, will spruce up your image as a classical lady by showing that you have an interest in the sciences and are willing to open up to good change. Older folk will still be mollified by you abiding by all the rules that a lady should follow while the younger ones will look up to you for being so progressive."

"And if we fail?" Erika asked.

"Then you lose the trust of the older generation while the newer ones don't focus on you being the drive behind this change. This is why I would've kicked this kid out if you didn't make that comment. What's done is done! That's why we need to push this hard." She lightly smacked the top of Erika's head with a paper. "To reiterate: while normally we could've ducked out of this, your callous comment has put us under the spotlight. So today, we strike. The mayor is organizing a press conference on this issue and I pushed him into including you. You're going to show that we're working on learning about this typing, and you're going to apologize for that comment you made against Lance. Lane, was it? You're hired. Come along. We're going to work on your image. Are those three grass-types in your possession? Good. That's a great place to start from."

She had no problem that Lane was too slow on the uptake to follow as unlike Erika, he was polite enough to wear a collar. The back of his shirt was grabbed, yanking him off his feet and dragging him along. He tried to yell commands but the pressure against his trachea was too great. His pokémon collapsed off into a train, the caboose trying to fight against the tight grip while his partners genially followed behind. Trimming hedges and picking up stray leaves were always tables over which the girls gossiped over, but now they had something substantial to chew on. Erika got plenty of congratulations, questions, even suspicious looks from her trainers as she walked out too.

Lane would be dragged through the wringer, she knew, and she couldn't let herself be the scruffy one between them. Outfits flitted through her mind as she called two of the girls to help her.

Lane never regained control of his own legs meanwhile. He was dragged to a nearby building, a place that he wasn't entirely sure about its function. The building seemed to be a beauty parlor, a mysterious one, with dark back rooms and private areas that had latches on the doors. Reflected on the wall were clothing racks full of tinsel clothes and prim suits that lined from one to the other like soldiers standing at attention, freshly dry cleaned. Photos of celebrities, Erika being in the largest photograph in the center bowing to the camera, wrapped the room at around the height of an adult's kneecaps, sparing only the door and mirror stretching from wall to wall. On the door was a motivational poster with a flexing Meowth saying, "you can do it!"

Plush red stools were scattered around the room, overseeing a giant counter with every kind of makeup that a man doesn't know about. Wands and grimoires laid around with no sense of order. His pokémon took seats on the stools as the crazy woman got a good look around him. 'Around' meant from every angle, even below, and it took Lane a second to realize that she had already picked up one of the potion vats. The switch next to the mirror flipped. Lights from every angle flashed alight with a buzzing like a mandolin.

"So in that job description, you never said anything about being a stylist," Lane said.

It wasn't as if the woman had any standout style of her own. She wore a simple, black business suit and kept her black hair in a hime cut. Hardly stylish, in Lane's opinion.

She put scissors right beneath his chin and lifted slightly. "It's a matter of doing what needs to be done. I'm only here to make you look presentable to the cameras. A professional stylist would only be necessary for somebody who intends to remain in the public eye. Do you?"

"Not really. I'd rather that this whole situation didn't happen but," Lane just shrugged as if that were an answer.

"Yet you fought against an Elite Four member in a public setting with a new typing. I have no sympathy for you," Yoko said. The scissors flicked, clipping a stray hair. Lane watched as it floated onto his leg. "Let's think about a plan. We'll need responses to every question that a reporter can throw your way."

"When is this press conference exactly?"

"Two hours from now. If Erika is going to capitalize on this opportunity, then we have to get a statement out as fast and forcefully as possible. Let's get talking. First question: why did you break into the game corner?" she asked.

Thus began the torture. Torture was never just physical. Little bits of his hair had given way to a short, basic haircut that looked like the hull of a ship bravely cleaving into the air after a helping of gel. Answer this, answer that. Question from here, ignore that question, never answer that question. The traitors of his pokémon had quickly learned that most weren't going to be present during the meeting and checked out. Lulu had taken the little Fomantis into her lap, grooming the pokémon by lightly dragging her blades wherever there were imperfections. Lightly bouncing like a tumbleweed, Cottonee was content with flitting around the room wherever the air conditioning took her. Dunsparce had started sleeping before he got confirmation that the pokémon weren't expected to be there.

And the discipline! What he'd learned is that he'd forgotten what a 'rule' was, that abstract word that meant pain would descend from an angle he couldn't see if he broached a line that hadn't been explained, or a line that had been explained an hour ago yet was apparently essential.

"Could've you beaten Lance?"

"Well, if we had a little time to prepare rather than walking in with a half-baked plan, then—"

Thwack! Thwack! Thwack! He was 90% sure that every civilized country had banned this sort of teaching; he was also 95% sure that he'd get a harsher smack if he brought that up, and 99% sure Kanto was not one of these civilized places. Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!

Getting dragged out of the dressing room came a different person. The outfit was chosen to emphasize his 'trainer-ness'. He pinched the material, uncomfortable with how much it looked like Red's, with the brown and beige color scheme being the only appreciable difference. A touch of makeup didn't help the feeling that he wasn't even wearing his own skin. The transition from artificial light towards the true world was equally traumatic. Bright little suns bounced around his vision from how long she had him staring into the mirror, exploding into supernovas when greeting sunlight after burrowing in a dark room, enveloping his whole vision soon after because there was radiance. Not brightness—brightness wasn't radiant. Radiance was different. Incomparable. Brightness didn't have all the positive stuff attached to it, and it could sometimes be bad. What made those purple splotches, that just wouldn't go away no matter how much he blinked, good?

There was always an unapproachable feeling when he stood next to her, the same way that people got uncomfortable inside of courts, empty schools, an abandoned building, the name of that specific fear where you've entered a place not meant for you. It was a common feeling that he had, yet it wasn't comparable when it was magnified by her. Standing across from him was the same person who he'd been poking fun at, criticizing her battling, the exact same person down to the way that she stood with her hands crossed together (because it was an expression of meekness, chafing against her slightly mocking smirk meant to prod the wild trainer being forced into a suave outfit, making his knees a little wobbly) to the straight back (through years of discipline, lacking in his whole life); and standing against her was the same person who would walk through a whole region to annoy someone to the point of being abandoned, who acted without thinking about tomorrow. Everything was too immense: who was this person, and why was this happening now? So he broke things down to what he knew:

She was wearing makeup. And it looked very nice. There was some new kimono or whatever that he could intellectually see but that didn't take nearly as much mental space as her face seeming to pop from the surroundings. Looking away broke him out of the spell, though his eyes kept gravitating to the same place before flinging out into the vastness of the rest of the world. Simpler, easier, than trying to process that one instance during that one time.

Thankfully for him, the breakdown had only lasted four seconds; one second to see it, another for his brain to freeze, a third to look away, and a fourth to plaster a mocking smirk.

"Well look at you. Two girls? I only had the one helping me and I'm looking slick. Maybe slicker than you." He ran two hands down his chest. "I think I could pull off that kimono better."

Yoko leaned down to hiss in his ear. "Yes, yes, get cocky because you got an hour's worth of PR training. Are you ready, Erika?"

"Ready as I'll ever be." She took a few calming breaths, bowing to the girls. "Thank you for your help. Please send your good wishes."

Yoko hurriedly ushered them towards the conference, fifteen minutes left to spare. The small platform was set up with the destruction of the game corner as a backdrop as if it were a shining example of Lane's abilities, or a wry condemnation. Crawling down the middle was a long table with a white cloth draped over it; Lane likened it to a giant coffin where his anonymity went to die. Tripods held cameras like thrones which made walking around the great wall of expensive equipment a challenge without accidentally knocking something down. Metal chairs, mostly occupied, fanned out from the center.

Tarps hung down from hangers at the sides, giving some privacy for the guests to prepare. A very short window happened where the crowd couldn't see, other guests too far to hear. The hand reached out and yanked him back as he was about to step into the public eye.

"Excuse us for a moment. I need to make sure that my lessons imprinted correctly. Go take your place," Yoko said to a curious Erika.

He was left alone, with nails that were slightly digging into his shoulder. It was uncomfortable which meant that she was being serious. Adults did that when they were serious. So said experience that he couldn't recall. So also said experience that he couldn't recall that adults who frequently resorted to pain were not good.

"I'm not going to have to worry about," her eyes flung up towards the stage, where the radiance had consigned itself to sipping on a water bottle, "that, am I?" Waiting didn't get a response. "This is where you're supposed to immediately respond instead of continuing to stare." Her eyes pinched together. "Hey."

Snapping fingers swung around his face like fireflies. Rapid blinks slowly found where the annoyed woman was glaring at him.

"Were you saying something? I'm kinda distracted. I can't really…"

He started looking back past the curtain. He'd most likely be the least important member there. I'll be fine, he repeated, trying to keep his eyes from spinning around the centers of gravity like an errant meteor. Erika caught his gaze and waved, nudging her head towards the irate secretary.

"Look at me." She made sure that she had his full attention before continuing to talk. "You cannot do that on stage."

He blinked. "Do what?"

"Stare."

"Stare." He frowned, crossing his arms. "Then what are my eyes supposed to do?"

"Look above the crowd. Look around it. Heck, look straight towards the cameras if you have to. You absolutely cannot stare."

"This feels like way too important of a lesson for it to be last second," he griped.

"Circumstances change. Also, you're allowed to stare whenever a person is talking, but it's not absolutely necessary considering you're going to be a bit player compared to the names that are up there." His attention was starting to wander again, making her give a slight tug on his arm. "And whatever you do, don't stare at any member of the panel who isn't talking. Not a single one. The cameras are recording your every action and the people watching will notice little things like that. Understand? A glance is fine, not a stare, and not a bunch of glances either."

Lane's eyes narrowed. "Heeeey. This is starting to feel targeted."

"Call it a hunch," she replied dully. With a few light tugs, he was guided towards the short flight of stairs.

Important smells, those that sniffed like money, mixed together as he scooted towards the bare seat next to Erika. Fomantis was allowed on Lane's shoulder just to 'reinforce the image of the grass gym in his appearance'—Yoko's last words before they left the dressing room. His knees nervously bounced, hidden away from the cameras. All that Erika could afford him was a sympathetic glance.

The whole setup made Lane feel uncomfortable enough that half his water bottle was downed before they even started speaking. Flashes from cameras came from all angles; since many networks had lost their opportunity to film the initial battle, they certainly weren't going to miss their second chance. Single, simple microphones were set in front of each speaker, along with a placard that had each of their names and a title. Erika, grass gym leader. Issei, head of League operations within Saffron City limits. Shinji, expert on abnormal typings. Lane.

He placed his pokédex next to the placard.

The conference started with a man counting down from three for the cameras. The last curious people were ushered by the security Machamp, marked so with a black hat reading 'SECURITY', into the few empty seats that remained. Crews went to work on last minute adjustments as the mayor gave a dry intro. There was a man next to Lane, some League official, who leaned down to whisper.

"Where is the girl who fought with you yesterday?" he asked.

"Probably halfway to Alola by now," Lane said. He was joking, of course. He had no idea how far Alola was from Kanto. She could've only been a tenth of the way there. And he didn't even know if she even left Kanto. They said their goodbyes and went separate ways.

The man mouthed 'Alola' to himself as he sat back straight. A mediator in a turtleneck sweater stood at the far end of the table. He tapped the microphone before giving a gentle smile that swiveled to make sure everybody got it.

"Welcome. For those who don't know me, I'm Professor Cato from Celadon University. This conference was sponsored by the Celadon University but is a joint effort between the best and brightest that we have in the region. Gym leaders, professors, rangers, and various other experts are gathered here today to weigh in on the new typings that we've recently learned about. Before we begin, I'd like for us to thank the Celadons for giving us the opportunity to speak on this issue that will affect Kanto for generations."

Lane's brow furrowed as the crowd joined in with the clapping. Everybody, programmed into them, had started giving enthusiastic but not too enthusiastic celebrations—except Erika. Pieces started falling into place, disturbing pieces.

"Starting us off will be Professor Blackthorn whose research focuses on dragon-types. For those who have questions, please save them for when the Professor is done answering my own."

The whole conference was a lot less nerve-wracking than Lane was expecting. Apparently the random kid who fought Lance wasn't being trusted as an authoritative source despite bringing the new typing in a battle. Instead he was there to look pretty and be pointed to when people had to throw some muck around.

And, oh boy, was muck thrown around. It was a gradual process over the first thirty minutes when all the factual details were being covered. Snide comments and throwaway lines were occasionally heard, festering underneath the polite language. It only became a problem when Erika was finally called. By this time, there was a large crowd gathered blocking the street, who only weren't behind the stage because officials ushered them out of the camera shots.

This was the main attraction. They'd transitioned from boring facts to the implications. Predictions were fun because anybody could say them.

"Ms. Celadon," he started, which made Lane's world freeze up again. Celadon? Their family name is Celadon? That sounded unwieldy. Pretentious. Stupid! Mr. Celadon! My name is Bob Celadon! Worse still, an actual Japanese name like Yuki Celadon. Celadon-san! Celadon-san! "Separate from these events that were already described, may you please give your own account of how the day went? How did you end up sitting at the front row of Lance's fight?"

Her retelling was droll and ignorable. So Lane let his attention drift and think about whatever came to mind. Vibrant skin cut out a piece of the sky. Emerald, as most would call them, but he'd rather liken the hard-set eyes as the many thousands of fermenting moss floors that he'd trampled over while traveling across the region. He waited, and didn't listen. It felt like the story had ended too quickly. At the capstone of her retelling, she sat down as the orator turned to the crowd.

"Here's probably the most anticipated member we have on the panel. You may begin your questions." Over the field of hungry hands, he pointed out a single one. "You. With the brown hair and fedora."

The professor's Mr. Mime floated the microphone over. One of the reporters for the Saffron Times stood up to take it.

"Miss Erika, is it true that you have hired the boy from yesterday's fight for further research on this new typing?" the man asked.

Erika's lips nearly pressed against the microphone. She spoke softly but evenly, her voice coming out clearly. "I did. Since we have met before, he thought that I would be more willing to hear his ideas. His employment wasn't definite until I had confirmed myself that the typing existed, and he is now part of the grass gym's staffing."

Lane was surprised how many grumbles were coming from the cheap seats.

"So you believe that the fairy-type exists?" the reporter continued.

"Yes. Along with other evidence that he showed me privately, I believe that the fairy-typing exists," she said.

"Yesterday during the fight between Lance and the two kids, my colleague reported that you said, and I quote, 'The way that you two presented it made it look stronger than even dragon-types'. Are you implying that this new typing is the strongest pokémon typing that exists?" the man asked.

"She doesn't know what she's talking about!" yelled someone from the crowd. A few others threw in their own words.

It was confusing enough that he finally broke away from looking at her, staring out to the crowd with a contrite pout. Who cared that much about pokémon typing? Most people he'd met hadn't been involved with battling. Why would there be people passionate enough about typing that they'd scream at gym leaders?

Erika seemed unmoved by the hecklers. "It seems true on the face. As we saw in the fight yesterday, fairy-types are immune to any dragon move that is used against them. However, anybody who has been a battler for a long time knows that isn't the end-all-be-all of any fight. Secondary typings, common weaknesses, and good strategy can overcome any type advantage. We saw that yesterday with Lance. His skill showed through that even past the type advantage from two competent trainers surprising him, outnumbering him, and being unfamiliar in dealing with this typing."

"But do you think that in a battle between a fairy trainer and dragon trainer of equal skill that the fairy trainer has the advantage?" the man asked.

"Of equal skill? What situation would that arise? The two battling yesterday were a foreign gym leader and another young prodigy who knows our new Champion. They faced against Johto's very own Blackthorn, who's a generational talent inside and outside his family. No, sir, it's an issue implying that there's any such thing as equal skill, for a battle isn't only about skill. It's about preparation, knowledge, the innate power of your pokémon and trust amongst your teammates—it's the tiny things such as diet and the conditions of the room that you're fighting in, the strategies that have been practiced and the willpower of the battlers. This is not golf, sir; we are pokémon battlers, and typing is merely another part of the equation. Otherwise you'd be implying that I would lose every time to a poison, fire or flying-type specialist who's of comparable strength." Thin lips spread into a manicured smile. "I've taught many of those trainers lessons they'll never forget."

Tapping from the speakers overcame the rest of her response. A swarthy man from further down the table had manhandled the microphone until it was pressed against his mouth. His placard read, 'Dean of Celadon University'. The mediator was shocked enough that he let the man start speaking.

"We're taking this advice from a group of kids. The kid yesterday used a Wigglytuff against a dragon. What you, and the rest of the madman supporting this gesture, are suggesting is that there's an unknown typing that has always been in this region and never noticed before. That is the height of absurdity and an insult to the intelligence of every person gathered here today. That we need a news conference to assure the public of anything just shows everything wrong ever since our Champion was overcome by a kid. You want news? Here's some: there is no fairy-typing. It's a fantasy," the man said.

A scrawny man who represented a research facility tapped his own microphone. "If I may interject here, it's actually possible for new typings to be discovered. Though it flew underneath the radar of most of Kanto, we have published a paper on our findings in the Johto area of their own pokémon typings. It's considered common knowledge in some areas of the region that there is a 'dark' and 'steel' typing. They even have a steel-type gym in one of their cities for those who didn't know."

"Just because some people think that there are different typings doesn't make it true, doctor," the dean said. "Our typings are common sense and have been rigorously tested. Has anybody been able to confirm the 'dark' and 'steel' typing, much less this new mythical 'fairy' typing?"

"We have had no reports, scientific or otherwise, of a fairy-type move," another scientist affirmed. "I believe this to be a hoax and nothing more. We rightly don't give credence to Johto's insistence on a steel and dark-type."

Claps came from the crowd. The people on the stage didn't wait as another scientist spoke over the riff raff. "Furthermore, these typings that have been reported in the Johto region don't have a solid understanding themselves. What types are weak and strong against them hasn't even been confirmed by the locals. Can anybody here name the attributes of dark and steel?"

Lane licked his lips. He made sure that he was in the same position as Erika, nearly kissing the microphone as he spoke. There wasn't the same evening of his tone. The s's hissed and p's popped.

"Steel resists dragon, grass, normal, flying, rock, psychic, ice, and fairy. It is weak to fire, ground, and fighting and immune to poison. It is super effective against rock, ice, and fairy while not being effective against itself, fire, water, and electric. Dark-type resists ghost and dark. It is weak to fighting, bug, and fairy. It is immune to psychic. It is strong against ghost and psychic. It is not very effective against fighting, dark, and fairy."

There was a moment of silence on the stage as everybody was looking towards him. One of the scientists slammed his hands on the table and stood up.

"This kid is a foreigner!" he yelled.

Lane decided then and there that some fights aren't worth taking. Rubbing his head in frustration was all that could be managed as the mediator tried getting ahold of the conference while so many men were shouting.

The conference ended without anything productive having happened. All that it did was make Lane feel less faith in the mental capacity of anybody living in Kanto. There were those that believed more research could reveal that all the typings were real, the most anyone gave a kid's testimony. Then came the ones who believed that dark and steel-types most likely existed since Johto saw them, but thought that the battle against Lance was a fluke that couldn't be replicated. Then came the most baffling of people who believed in fairy-types but didn't think that anyone from Johto could be trusted and thus didn't believe in the other typings. The most morally consistent were those who didn't believe any of the typings existed. Lane admired them the most because he liked imagining everyone who disagreed with him as a stodgy old man, of which this group was wholly made of.

Along with these logically consistent positions were many more quacks deciding that the adage of chefs and broths was absurd, throwing in their own theories that sound-types had existed all along and that fairy-typing was actually ice-typing which proved that dragon-types were weak to ice moves. Slowly the quality of the conference deteriorated. The only winners were the reporters.

None of them were taken aside for more questioning, whether because of their status or the lameness of carrying facts around instead of insults. The cobbled path that led through a small garden was virtually clear of all life, save for a flock of Pidgey snapping at each other on the power lines above them.

"You seem to be fine with this," Lane said.

"I expected this to turn out unpleasant. What matters is that we've clearly stated our position which will be vindicated in the coming weeks. Now what matters is making visible moves that we're researching and supporting this newfound typing." Yoko closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. "The hostility was in our minds too. Had you not an eye on Erika? She never was taken off guard because she expected this. Typings are more than simple labels that guide us on weaknesses in battle and the habitats they roam: they're vibrant symbols. Have you heard of the human typing theory?"

"Sounds like a load of malarkey," Lane said.

Yoko plucked out a shard of grass and held it to Lane's eye level. "It's thought that we all have typings ourselves that make up how a person acts, thinks, and believes. It's thought that the typings of pokémon can be found everywhere in nature, even in human beings. I'm surprised that you think it's weird. Most people I've met believe in some variation of that."

"Pokémon are pokémon. We're us," Lane said.

Erika didn't agree with that at all. The kinship that she felt with her team was inexplicable if there weren't typings inherent inside of humans. Many magazines, those that were commonly referred to as 'guilty pleasures' yet referred as 'great reading material' in her home, were piled underneath her bed on rare days when she had an hour to herself. They talked about the titillating dynamics that worked between different types of people and were by far one of her favorite things to read.

Because it was a manner of belief though, she knew well enough to hold her tongue.

"Well, the point is that adding new typings makes a lot of people wary. It feels as if there's something fundamental that they missed. Soon enough we'll have enterprising fortune tellers debating on what traits a fairy-typed person has and cookies named after fairy moves." Yoko paused and looked up to the Pidgey flying overhead. "It really is strange how nobody has ever used a dragon move against a Jigglypuff. Are there any other fairy-types in the region that we don't know of?"

"Clefairy, Mr. Mime, and, uh, have either of you ever seen an Azumarill?" Lane held out a hand to guesstimate how big it was. "About yay big, blue, got a ball on its tail? That's a fairy and water-type."

For just a second, Lane could see the battlers in both the girls. They had expressions of pure wonder. That something so fundamental could be unlearned for so long lit up the parts that were usually carefully maintained. Surely Erika had never gained a sparkle in her eye when there was a bloated man screaming about fairy-type believers being traitors to Kanto's morals. It reflected with the way that she leaned forwards, invading his personal space and making it harder to ignore the radiance.

"I was not expecting the steel and dark-type advocates to have their day in the sun also. You confidently affirmed their existence. That's," she thankfully leaned back to excitedly beat her fists together, "wonderful! I've heard of it but never paid much mind. It seemed to be an issue beyond my reach. To hear that it very well—ah!"

He pointedly turned his entire head to appreciate a fountain trickling water down its stone bowls. Blue tiles lined the floor. He could see the coins flickering like lighthouses in the distance. "Not entirely sure what that means. Not sure why you guys don't have pokémon with those typings when…"

Incoherent parts. Connection. Threading. Idea. Idea, idea, great idea. Want: visit Johto. Have: duty to Oak to spread around the pokédex. Don't have: money.

Everything fell into place, like a dream. Because he knew that the world didn't move for singular people like this, slot into place for the average person. Things simply weren't like that for an average person.

"...you know what? I've got an idea that doesn't have anything to do with a bomb. Did I mention that there's steel and dark grass-types? They're pretty easy to nab if you know where to look. You gotta go outside the region to get 'em though. I can go getcha a few 'cause I know where they are 'cause I know these things, y'know?"

Erika's mind went to the new pokéball that was hidden in her kimono. An entire new universe had been opened up with just a single pokémon from a faraway chain of islands she couldn't even imagine. Beside herself, the urge to act took over. Lane suddenly found two hands clenching down on his shoulders. It was more the urgency with the owner's emotions seeping through her skin that made the grip feel harsher than it actually was. Fomantis curiously tapped the hand that nearly knocked him off.

"Describe them," Erika said evenly. An intensity burrowed through him like miners trying to excavate his thoughts. It certainly made it a little less awkward that he was currently being bathed in light.

"Uh, well, there's, uh," a glance at Yoko's unamused stare made him shape up, "Ferroseed, which is a little steel guy who's shaped like a seed with spikes. It evolves into a big 'ol UFO-looking guy that can actually walk around, and is really hard to take down because it's hard as, y'know, steel and stuff. Then there's, mm, Shiftry, I guess. It's a dark-type that evolves from a normal grass acorn guy and he's got like, I dunno, a beard? And he fires leaves and stuff. Cacturne, he's a cactus-y guy and stuff and, er, he's got a, a, yeah. C-Can you get off me now?"

She backed away, hands crossed behind her back as she started pacing around the little pathway that they'd been provided. Even the bare descriptions were constructing whole pokémon in her mind that weren't anywhere close to their actual shapes.

Normally this would've been the time where Yoko would act out—and sometimes not pretend—that her dear gym leader's hidden quirks were exasperating, making her eyes roll good-naturedly when they were alone and giving slight hisses between her teeth when they weren't. These were the good-hearted times and not the great, when her eyes were similarly shining. Normally she'd fret that Erika's kimono was getting too near the bushes planted at both ends of the quaint walkway, not directing her attention towards the boy who couldn't stop staring.

"You would go to another region to capture pokémon that we haven't seen before?" she asked. There was a tilt of excitement to her voice that smothered the professionalism dead.

"Why not? I was already planning to travel around," Lane said.

"When can you leave?"

"Anytime."

The reasons that she had been hired were manifold. An obvious reason was the sharp mind and perfect memory that recalled Erika's scheduled upcoming 120 hours.

"Erika-sama. Please stop fantasizing so we can work."

While Lane's mind was doing twists again, the gym leader stopped her musings and walked up. Her excitement had lowered to a simmer, hands crossed behind her back and slight smile hiding the fireworks that were happening in her mind.

"Good. Erika, you'll have an extra hour of sleep to cut off your napping time. We need clear, uninterrupted sessions where you're going to stay awake and learn from our new hire. I want you to be able to refit the gym into a fairy-type gym if you'd be called to by the end of this. Learn about this typing inside and out, alongside steel and dark-types. This is what you'll do for the next week before we send off Lane to pick up these pokémon for us. In the meantime I'll see if there's any more chances for you to flex your knowledge, to show that you're making a genuine effort to learn about them, hopefully to the point where you're going to be the region's expert amongst the gym leaders if we move fast enough."

There were two entirely different reactions. More pressing was the bouncy nature of Lane (fast to bounce from sadness or stress, and fast to bounce between topics) had hardened into uncertainty. Everything that he'd been roped into within a single day was starting to catch up. He did his normal thing, walk in and fight a person, and here he was: forced to teach, forced to take lessons, forced to sit still because of another person telling him so, now forced to leave the region instead of doing it by his own volition.

Lane felt dread overtake him. These weren't his normal shenanigans. It was meant to be a week of jail time, a goofy kid that people forgot about within a year's time. What was this meant to be? Getting shipped off on a mission and changing the whole region? Sitting next to important titled people as if he were in any way equal?

"I think you're overestimating how good of a teacher I am," Lane said.

"Read a book. Ask. Teach Erika about the basics or else you're fired," Yoko said.

That wasn't encouragement. That just made Lane feel stressed.

Chapter Text

'Teaching 4 Dummies' was splayed open, the teacher on the page watching as Lane guided Erika on the grooming routine he had with each of his pokémon. Their teams were wandering around that section of the gym freely. Fomantis was watching the grooming process with its leaves fully tucked in due to there being no sunlight inside. Dunsparce had reserved a bush to rest inside, sharing it with a Weepinbell. Somewhere Cottonee was playing with the vents in the same way that a child played with the filtered water pushed into a pool, and it's not like he had a routine anyhow. Lane knew a lot of niche, useless information and the grooming routines of every pokémon was not made effortlessly. He'd be mad if anyone suggested that figuring out a Lurantis' routine was effortless. It took a lot of trial and error to figure out the specific steps.

The mainstay of his team took the crown of team princess because he'd only ever figured out how to groom her well enough to be the centerpiece of his team. Dunsparce was his little angel but he'd never be winning awards. Caring for plants was easier than living things that had a tendency to coat themselves in dirt.

"Why does the water have to be at a specific pH?"

Lane scratched the back of his head, not caring that the clippers nearly shaved off the back of his collar. "It's 'cause the water over at Alola ain't that acidic. I think it's because they've got volcanos over there that lower it, or something like that. Things get used to things like that and it really shows when you bring a Lurantis outside of the region. Without giving them water closer to their habitat, it turns their colors way less vibrant. Look at Lulu and Fomantis. You can tell that she's better taken care of with a good eye."

There was a noticeable difference between mother and child past evolution. The pink of Lurantis was brighter, colors more distinct. Lines melded together in Fomantis. Paler colors let him blend in better with the plants around him. Erika wondered why the pokémon wanted to be more visible rather than less without coming to a good answer.

"That makes sense." Erika nodded over to the bushes of hydrangeas, glowing pink. "The biggest challenge was designing the gym so it had around the year blooming. It now takes a long amount of training before any of my girls has memorized the whole building's gardening. Each section here has their own unique needs."

With a sharp eye, one could see that there were miniscule pieces of wood that served as divisors between two species of plants in the same planters. Within the same beds there'd be bushes that shared the same needs as others yet bloomed at a different time of year laying dormant behind more eye-catching flowers. Arches followed a similar pattern. Spaced out between a fully manicured structure with spectacular green leaves and fuzzy petals were vines sleeping until their time had come, blooming into a season's greetings. Lane took a closer look at the wall that tended to escape notice when it could barely be seen beneath the man-made habitat. Paint splattered into indistinct shapes that seemed to suggest clouds against a blue sky.

"Planty," Lane said.

"I'd rather you gave my gym the proper compliment that it deserved, but we'll work on that when time isn't so tight."

"Give me a break. I've been serious all week and that's the longest that I've been serious my entire life, unlike you who apparently can't keep your attention on a single subject for seven minutes. Stop stalling, missy. Answer the question," Lane said.

She had to repress some kind of sassy stare. It was hard to resist, considering that her teacher had to visibly stop himself from constantly doling out jabs like a lowbrow comedian. 'Missy'. The only way she'd normally be given contact with that word would be reading a novel, an exceedingly rare occurrence that last happened a summer ago when Lorelei gave a recommendation—'The Tales of Kingler in His Gold Kingdom', a pseudo-fairytale that poked fun at an old Kanto myth about a heroic crustacean helping a princess, with many aspects modernized (she could still remember hearing the original myth, not sure if she should feel scandalized or disgusted or confused with the story's ending). The novel was fine.

"They're weak to steel and poison while being strong against fighting and bug. They're immune to dragon." Her face puckered when Lane crossed his arms. "They're also strong against other fairies?"

"Dark. It resists dark."

Erika sighed. "I know that it's expected of me, but remembering a typing that officially doesn't exist in Kanto yet feels unfair."

"Careful now. You're going to sound like one of those old beldams talking like that."

"You know it isn't like that. I'm making an effort. I've simply been given an extraordinary workload with barely any extra sleeping time as compensation," she said.

Lane was giving her a flat look, completely unsympathetic. "It really shouldn't be this hard to memorize a bunch of words in collection with themselves, y'know. How'dya think that kids do it? How did you do it the first time round?"

"Studying like so," she dryly responded.

"Then study as so!"

"And study I shall continue doing. Though we've already been at it for three hours. Must we continue? What about we break for lunch? A nap?" She tried gliding past that as if it were another option on the list, though Lane had already clued in with a cat-like smile. "We could also inquire with Yoko about your continued employment. I'd heard that your payment hadn't been finalized yet. Speaking of, where were you searching for these new grass-types? Johto?"

He decided to let it lie. "Hoenn, actually."

Hoenn, a loaded word. A distant shore. Cities of small populations. It was a denser place. Imaginations filled in the scarce details, artificially kept scarce because of their reluctance towards fully embracing their much more well-traveled sister region with a much less embarrassing 43% of the population that'd visit another region once in their lives. Vivid descriptions from 50 years ago constructed bubbling pools erupting from beneath their prominent volcano, dug up for the residents' pleasure; beaches of ankle-high water that stretches out its silt fingers into the moderate water, half-submerged coves where you could see the viridian waters reflected the thin pillars of iron salted rock; and the jewel of the region, of which her grandfather claimed was greater than any of Kanto's landmarks, represented by a single sentence: "Mt. Pyre, beautiful. Massive. Trekked for a week. If only you could be here."

For her, it was a place slightly nearer than the other names. Her father had visited and came back without anything nice to say about it.

"And the pokémon?"

"They'll be there. Mostly. I'll need to get creative with some of them but," he shrugged without having a better answer. Because he's not made to think that far ahead.

"'But'?" Erika asked, because he was made to think that far ahead.

Planning was too stodgy. It meant ignoring the things that'd happen in the future, and also put him on the spot when inconvenient questions were asked. Aggressively petting Lulu got a glare. She knew he was stalling. Despite talking with him just shy of a week, Erika knew he was stalling. But she couldn't question the process. This was the person who had fought her back for a crucial moment and traveled along with the Champion. Surely there was a mind without parallel behind the quickly smug, constantly duplicitous expression.

When an answer came it looked more as if he had eaten something delicious. A swirl of his tongue worked around his mouth to savor the taste of sarcasm.

"Dunno. Probably gonna play it by ear~."

"If you'd be so kind, provide some sort of assurance that you know of these pokémon past their existence or else you'll have to become creative with your future housing and showering opportunities," Erika said.

"Creative insult. Nice! The execution could use some work because you have the same proper lady voice with its cutesy pronunciations and everything—maybe that actually improves the delivery though? A contrast of an insult without the spite? Hm, I'll give it a B- at the moment. You're definitely getting better."

"I hope that you're not implying that you've been hired to train my banter. It's immaculate for the situations that necessitate it—rarely, mind." Then her expression drooped into a pointed glare. "What do you mean about the 'cutesy' pronunciations? What of yourself? Do you think that your approximations have slipped by anyone's careful ear?"

This was a turn that Lane genuinely didn't expect. His eyes turned wide, guttural sounds slipping out that made Lulu look up with satisfaction. "H-Huh? What do you mean by that? My language is perfect!"

"No, it most certainly is not! You replace your w's with v's! It sounds as if you can't decide which words should have which vowels too! How else did you think that they instantly recognized you a foreigner when you spoke? Your frivolous abuse of replacing every other vowel with 'ow' would out you with even the most lowborn of speakers. Tell me I'm wrong."

"W-Wait, you're suddenly—"

"Did you think me a babe who'd sit still when you're insulting something as base as my accent?" She tilted her head a little, serenely closing her eyes. Argument closed. "Now say that about my accent again. Please give it a better description than merely calling it 'cute'. Are you calling the entirety of Kanto's accent cute?"

He felt like he'd been grinded down to the point of not speaking. It was weird, hearing insults back, enough that he was just staring at her for a while. There were a few false starts where he tried thinking of something to respond with. Maybe a joke if anything came to mind—nothing, his muse leaving his body.

So he attacked from a different angle: dumbfounded compliance. It wasn't an attack. He fooled himself into thinking that it was one.

"Um, you have difficulties with l's. It's a little bit more heavy than other people so I noticed it."

"Did you feel good when I insulted your own peculiarities?" she asked.

"No."

"Then why did you say it to me? If you were to insult my pokémon, would you like it if I insulted your own? Expecting reciprocal action should be the baseline if you're to brazenly insult someone as you do, otherwise you become hardly better than a bully. Do you understand?"

Lane nodded dumbly. "Um, so insult people in stuff that I don't care about? Guess I'd have to get creative."

"Because you have a lot to be offended about?" Erika pouted in thought, tilting her head. "Speaking of, you don't talk about yourself overly much. I've told you a good amount of my personal life while you've been relatively private. Why is that?"

"'Cause you haven't asked." He tapped the book before she could press. "Are we officially calling a break? We've been just sitting around and talking for a little bit now. Might as well say that we're breaking for lunch rather than wasting what's supposed to be your study time."

She stood up and stretched, managing to press her palms against the floor and arch her back in a way that made Lane sympathetically ache as he watched the full routine. Lulu elbowed him lightly (which barely had the strength of a fly landing on his skin) when he was still sitting by the time that she'd finished stretching.

He scrambled up to his feet as she began talking. Lulu leapt down and brushed off her lap. "At least it's been productive. We can continue afterwards. Would you join me for lunch? You can continue talking about the Tropius, the one that you mentioned, the one that's gigantic. It sounds wonderful. I've been thinking about it lately—"

"And that's why you can't remember that fairy-type resists dark-types?"

Her chin imperiously tilted upwards.

"It is not any business of yours what I imagine in my free time. If I think of the fossil research culminating in new grass-types that have been long extinct rather than an entire species of low-down tricksters, then it's well within my rights to do so. It's more entertaining than simply thinking of my schedule the next day, anyhow." There was a shudder barely suppressed. Her eyes turned to distant lands and possibilities. "How am I not going to imagine? These past few months have felt so fast. New regions, new opportunities, new tournaments, new typings all seem to have been heralded with Red becoming the Champion."

"No love for me? I literally am the one teaching you, ya know."

"Hardly!" She smiled. "Genuinely speaking, thank you for your work. I feel more equipped to deal with the changes working alongside you, even if your sour personality occasionally becomes a bit too much. Perhaps you'd be genuinely bolstering my gym if we were to work beyond this crisis."

He turned away, flicking away a bundle of hair. "Of course we would. Y'know that I'm a pretty booked guy though? I've got talents out the wazoo. I'm partially responsible for Team Rocket's collapse."

"Quite right. Their branding of an illegal organization may have been impossible without you and Red striking fatal blows against their infrastructure."

"Criminal organization, not illegal one. That just sounds awkward."

"It's an illegal organization because it's been made illegal to join."

"It's a criminal organization because you become a criminal if you join it."

"By the books it's an illegal organization, therefore it's an illegal organization."

"It's a—you know what? This is stupid. Point is that maybe I can be convinced if my schedule doesn't look like this 'cause this is way, way too much work for me. I've had to," he stuck his hip out and counted down his fingers, "wake up, eat the mediocre free meals, read to make sure that I'm not teaching nothin', teach ya, eat again, teach you some more, and then make sure that my team s'all good. And the freetime! Usually I had dawn to dusk myself! This is tyranny! I'm a bluebird that needs to be free! Responsibility is like a shackle."

Erika waggled her finger at him. "Eventually you'll have to see that work isn't a shackle. Creating this gym and working with pokémon is when I feel the greatest. I'm not saying that you need to become enchanted with working as I do but the whimsical trainer lifestyle won't last forever. It's only when we're introduced to responsibility that we learn how to deal with it."

Looking at that finger brought back exactly a week ago. Flash, like a flood, swelling down from the crown into the rest of his body, causing a horrible shudder to work through him. It was like he had been literally dragged back to that moment. The feeling was cold, unfamiliar. He didn't like it. It forced him to turn away until that faint blush had receded.

"Y'know that I'm a kid, y'know? I've got some time left."

She gave a hum. "And usually people our age are in school, putting down the trainer lifestyle and learning how to become proper citizens."

"Good thing that I'm not!" he happily said, getting an eye roll from her. "Otherwise I wouldn't have the time to make Lulu the greatest that she can be. She'd be a much punier Lurantis, unable to send your Tangrowth's behind packing."

"And last I checked, you hadn't won the fight definitively. Haven't you admitted that it wasn't a definite victory on your part?"

"Technical victories are my favorite, and my favorite thing to do is call things technically a victory." While he was speaking, an idea had started fermenting. It was a much better idea than his previous one. This didn't shackle him with responsibility for the immediate future. "Heeeey. I have a better idea than food."

"Am I supposed to be scared?"

"Excited. It's excitement. Can you feel it in the air?"

She crossed her arms behind her back and closed her eyes to play along. "Summer transitions into fall. The air turns crisp, yet retains the typical moisture endemic to its end—a soft farewell. Change is on the horizon and it's not confined to the leaves."

"Two fated individuals lock eyes. The lazy day turns tense. What should be the break time for the offices becomes a spectacle."

"Because when two meteors cross paths, it could only mean one thing."

"Only one survives."

"Or do either? If the winner is only determined by whoever keeps the most of their mass, then it's a losing proposition for both sides."

"But pride determines it must happen."

"And that is?"

"A pokémon battle."

She hummed, cracking open an eye. "To settle the score?"

"To close this case."

"To wile away the afternoon."

"And prove my worth." He slammed his knuckles together, lightly. "You game?"

"Here I thought you didn't like battling."

"Here I thought that you didn't like me saying that I won our fight back at the game corner. If you don't fight me, then I'm going to continue bringing it up." He flicked a thumb across his nose. "I think that it's inarguable. I completed my objective and you failed at yours. My pokémon had been able to adapt to the situation well enough to fight against your little squad. Lulu and Dunsparce managed to escape without a scratch. And we demonstrated the huge knowledge gap between us. I bet that you don't even know how Tangrowth evolved."

Normally she would've brushed off the admission, a lifetime of training not to put her foot in her mouth. It required every sentence to undergo revision in her head, analyzing the person across from her, never wantonly wasting language as Lane was so frequently doing. It's why she could remember a similar question that she'd been posed back during the dojo. Uncertainty, who was this person, what was happening, was this typing real? Calculations were thrown out and that's how she'd said something so crass.

She could hardly lie and say that she hated the mistake. Their brief working relationship wasn't nearly at the level that she may have been imagining yet, but she wasn't an adult. She didn't know that broaching across the line of genuine emotion, sharing more than their friendship currently should, was a faux pas. Some part of her body reacted to it however, as she scratched her cheeks that had started glowing red.

"No, you're correct in saying that."

His smile turned smarmy, hands locked onto his hips. "Then we've got ourselves a barter. You versus me. I get the grass badge if I win since I've surmounted a challenge greater than the no-name trainers that come in here; you get to know how your Tangrowth evolved and, as a combo deal, I'll give you a few tips about pokémon that I know you already have."

Hiding the blatant interest she had was done by having her hands retreat into her sleeves. "But I already have a fight scheduled later today."

"It won't require your Tangrowth."

"That it won't. I'm still not sure however. We would skip lunch in all likelihood."

"I'm not sure it'll be that long at all."

The words being said no longer mattered as they'd already started backing away.

Her head tilted. Though her expression didn't change, there was a difference. Hunting—those eyes were locked with the pokémon who was already standing in front of her trainer. "It'd be a massive disappointment if you were that weak."

Quickly the materials were cleaned up. Girls who'd been previously fanned out doing their work started congregating, the nearest first, and the shouting runner spreading the word gathering those at the farthest reaches and in the breakroom. Pokémon generally were of the shorter variety and thus would stand nearer to the white lines painted into the grass, the girls who genuinely had barely left high school intermingling with the (hardly taller) older ladies.

Normally these types of fights wouldn't attract nearly as many people. This was a momentous change however, and it being improvised was the only reason half of Celadon wasn't scrambling to watch. Erika wasn't wrong in saying that the region was changing; from the bottom to the top, Blaine to Misty, everyone had an opinion about the new typings and the mysterious trainer that was nested in the grass gym. One of them knew. The other didn't. Lane instinctively knew that he'd gone over his head. Erika heard it personally from the influx of letters and calls that the gym was receiving. Blaine's full-hearted support and Brock's personal recommendation despite not knowing the boy personally. Koga's trainers had visited to give warnings about the shady personality she was hosting alongside citizens privately giving their support with well-wishes and increased donations. Inside her own gym was a single resignation and new applications to sift through. And change? Change was everywhere. Change was the League releasing statements about their position, colleges starting entire commissions to figure out their own truths, gym leaders pledging to work with the experts and new regions being discovered, the world moving and her moving alongside it.

On that gym floor was a person who injected change, personally changed the course of their region while barely being able to seriously teach her. She was a person who hungered for more; not fame, riches, but of what she genuinely cared about. She loved her gym and believed in the creed that they were meant to be the guardians of knowledge. She wanted more, to know, to be strong. Everything culminated in this showdown. In these trainers' minds this was the region itself: tradition versus progress. In her mind, she was personally confronting the future.

In his mind, this was going to be a good time, with stakes that he couldn't fully comprehend. He absolutely couldn't lose this and he couldn't imagine a world where he lost. He couldn't lose to her, in front of her in such an embarrassing way. He couldn't fully put it into words besides the thought being uniquely repulsive.

Lulu's ears flicked. Her teammates had gathered around the sides and were cheering her name loudly. Many of the fanclub that she'd acquired, brilliant colors outstanding, were cheering her name too. Those who were caught up in the hype joined along. An entire line of grass-types were bouncing up and down, loudly making nonsense noises and spraying non-harmful moves up like fireworks. Across was another contingent who were trying to cheer louder than their opponents and explosively goading those on the other sides; Tangrowth's fan club grew out of personal loyalty to Erika.

From these moves fluttered down leaves of all shades. Fall's, the browns of a dying tree, a vibrant spring's green, fluttering down like confetti.

"One versus one. No holds barred. Ready?" she yelled. Up came a pokéball, covering her mouth that had stretched into a lupine grin. Teeth bared, eyes wide, breaths heavy on the back of her hand. Exaggerated, her shoulders raised and lowered as she started hunching down.

She didn't wait for a response. Across the field created an unfinished duel. Tangrowth raised his hands high, approaching with massive strides.

Lulu was slicing her hooked scythes in tiny movements, letting out little threatening chirps. She was getting caught in the excitement too. That absolutely did not translate to being an ace pokémon. Standing across from her was a pokémon that they'd revealed a majority of her tricks, beguiled by the arena that had quickly turned to her own advantage. This was a flat grassland. Even back in their homeland, it was the brush which her kind skulked around with their bright colors easily spotted in an open area. Each of Tangrowth's steps could crush her like a can. And standing against him were puny saw blades that needed time to set up.

She'd been briefed about the pokémon too. When they were laying awake together on Cinnabar, Lane would think out loud about things they'd done and things he hoped they'd do. Included in this was Tangrowth having a very interesting move called 'Psych Up' that copies the 'changes in stats' (his words—she took those to be a synonym for strengthening) that she did herself. Meaning that the gap in strength and durability between the two of them couldn't be closed.

Improvise. That's what her trainer would say, laughing afterwards like he'd said a joke.

"Bulldoze!"

Thus the fight started with the bed of grass upending itself. Soil flipped over as little pieces of earth jutted upwards. From where the foot stomped down came out a shotgun of quakes that quickly gained on Lulu's side of the field. Dodging wasn't possible when border to border the arena was being destroyed, the quaking becoming more violent as it approached. What once was mere tilling became pillars of dirt splashing upwards, leaving behind a mixture of mulched grass and dirt clumps.

She didn't need an order. Crossing her arms created a barrier in front of her that shimmered as dirt splashed onto it—a buffer of perfect grass in a field that had been stirred into a milk chocolate brown. To her confusion, the Tangrowth immediately followed up by turning around and Bulldozing the other side of the arena. It gave her an opportunity to approach, no matter how it was taken. Most would be surprised by the suddenly loamy ground that seemed to come away like taffy; her grass-type nature sang with each contact, bringing up little clumps of the ground like droplets as she ran ahead. Closer and closer she came, blades risen as the golem slowly spun around. It was way too suspicious. Coattails cut into the liquidated dirt as her limbs swung around like rotary cutters.

There was a shouted order that she gladly followed. Green, edging to the shade of yellow that a sycamore's bark would turn, ran down like flames from the tips of her blades as she continued to run headlong towards her opponent. Vines, two more sets emerging from behind, bent around so they became the shape of a ribcage in preparation. One blade obviously rose up to slice through the Tangrowth's face. Evenly raised, it would've been a clean horizontal slice straight through its body. She knew better however. She knew before the purple bubbles had started seeping from the vines like an egg white.

She abandoned the attack to slide underneath the lowest vine. Acrobatically bounding forwards, form like a dolphin's, she landed harshly yet nimbly. Immediately her momentum was redirected to the side, foot sinking into the ground as she pushed off to zig-zag. With barely inches off from her eyes were sudden projectiles. Vines shot out from the greater mass, slamming down like bullets; whatever care that Tangrowth had with holding back in private property had been fully upended. While keeping the tension of iron girders, Tangrowth was still able to spin around with the same grace as he did back during their first fight.

The fully formed Sludge Bomb was more healthy than Lane had seen from even the poison-types he'd fought against. Around the size of his head, its exterior gurgled and bubbled in the way that you'd expected toxic waste in a cartoon to reply. Last second additions started dribbling down the glob like sweat. Only a second to aim. Forward it went, fast as a bullet, twirling into a pinched tip and barrel-shaped body. Lulu barely had a split second to react by sliding down to her back once again. The projectile skidded against the ground and splashed against the wall. The older grass-types who were more battle-attuned had long dragged the humans away from its trajectory.

Before she could breathe out a sigh of relief, a sudden strike came from behind. Questions couldn't come as the pain wrought havoc. First came the one from below, then came another strike that sent her tumbling across the entire field. The dirt's turf-esque quality absorbed enough of the impact that she'd skidded to a stop quickly, but the questions remained that couldn't be answered. Immediately she leapt to the side as another Sludge Bomb smashed where she'd been standing.

Lane had seen the whole thing though.

"Dodge again!"

She didn't question the order. Leaping into a forward roll barely made her avoid the vine that sprouted from the ground. At the end of the roll she leapt forwards, pushing out with her blades midway to carry her further. Landing, knees bent, the impact was absorbed as she started leaning backwards. A final leap had her slightly push off slightly off her original course. Jabbing out of the ground straight ahead vindicated the whole effort, as another wriggling vine stuck out with trails of dirt still trickling from its top.

Lane looked back at Tangrowth, whose vines that had originally seemed to be for protection had transitioned into deadly weapons. The same vines that initially shot towards her were still buried into the ground. The whole plan now made sense: soften up the soil with Bulldoze and use it to create a little exclusionary zone. Obviously there wasn't enough vine to stretch across the entire field, yet there didn't need to be. The strategy seemed to be made specifically for them with how hard it handicapped Lulu's typical battling: since Lulu was generally a close-ranged fighter, it shut off approaching without taking some serious risks since Tangrowth could multitask with both Sludge Bomb and the vines. Fighting from a distance would be embarrassingly weak since all of Lulu's options were grass-type moves. Playing it safe and buffing up her stats to empower her Solar Beams would simply have Erika respond with Psych Up.

It wasn't simple, and Lane couldn't imagine that Tangrowth was having an easy time considering that only two of the four vines that dug into the ground actually attacked. It was damn effective though and he knew that Toxic was their only way to win in this position, and Lulu understood that was probably only one way they'd win, and Erika fully understood there was only one way they'd win. Now it was simply a game of outsmarting the person who had a field entirely made in their favor.

"You understand what sort of fluke that you managed to pull off!?" Erika taunted. "Brilliant dodges, but you lack the ability to take victory! With even ground there's no chance to mistake us as equals!"

Lane didn't fall into taunting because he was genuinely trying to work around a plan that Lulu could carry out without him shouting out the details. And he couldn't figure one out. Everything hinged on his pokémon being creative enough to outsmart Tangrowth once they engaged.

He had no problem with that. The utmost faith was put on his partner.

"Lulu! You've got no choice! Approach!"

Saying it was easy. She had gotten to her feet and stalled while waiting for orders. The second that it left his lips, a single bound took her over a vine that smashed into the ground. They were hardly a great distance away from each other, yet each step that she took was measured. Zig-zags were alternated with back steps as explosions echoed around her, dirt splattering next to her unblinking eyes that made sure the Sludge Bombs weren't getting near—she feared a single one would stop her dead. Vines would erupt from the ground and slam haphazardly in an attempt to cut her off from approaching. Whoever would hit the other was entirely up to chance. A single wrong step or a lucky swing would kick Lulu from her positioning. Both sides swelled in cheers as the game of hopscotch continued. One leap, another vine, another vine, crisscrossing like barbed wire to rebuff her approaches.

But it was never a perfect defense. Since the vines were rather uncoordinated, there were plenty of gaps that she exploited. Too little firepower, too little vines could keep her away from slowly approaching. The lithe body was just too small to be kept from wriggling between the tiny gaps. She had approached until she was under its shadow. Two vines were behind her, already slammed down in a vain attempt to stop her. The purple blob had impacted the grass far behind. There were two more that she had to be wary of. Nervous energy made her blades shake.

They locked eyes. The battlefield stalled for a moment. Neither moved. And then, contact.

She backflipped away from the vine that nearly shot straight between her legs and charged ahead. The final vine washed fresh dirt against her back as it expected her to continue backflipping. Hasty punches were thrown, the first arm slamming onto the bare ground as she ducked underneath it and the other sliding against the scythe that wrapped itself in bug-type energy. She could feel each inch of skin that split open as it ran down her blade. In her other hand was the birth of a purple light, glowing like the tip of a spear. Bare skin was next to her, an open wound, aching for the payload.

She leapt at the very last second before a vine attacked her. Alarmed, she was barely able to glance behind the hulking pokémon to see one of its smaller vines had dug into the ground behind, out of her sight—a last second defense that worked perfectly. She was too near. Crossing her blades together didn't bring up Protect in time for the other vines to splurt out from the earth.

Though a physical attack, it was still wreathed with the same typing as the both of them. Like a pinball spring it sent her flying despite barely hurting even her arms. She controlled her flight with careful modulations of her body, quick glances behind to make sure to orient herself correctly. At the last moment her blade stuck out above. The sound of a chainsaw's teeth rending flesh spun around the branch for a moment before the momentum had died an acceptable amount. On the way up, she drew back her claw and did a few flips as a show that she was still able to fight. Landing in a bow didn't draw claps except from Fomantis.

The white line was far away from the trees. The cheering had died. Everyone, pokémon and humans alike, were looking amongst themselves for some kind of ruling. There wasn't a coach. There was nobody, except the two combatants. Wobbling knees betrayed the brave face that Erika had put on. She was openly staring at the perfectly healthy Lurantis who was waving back at her, at the whole battlefield that she'd manipulated, at her own fingernails that were digging into her palms. Her head bowed as the hunger left by the second.

"Hey! Why'd you stop fighting?"

Everyone looked to the boy whose thumbs were hooked in his belt hooks, bending from the waist down to fully convey that he knew—he knew that he commanded the room's attention.

"Did you forget? Remember what you said? The rules are N-O H-O-L-D-S B-A-R-R-E-D, no holds barred! Absolutely none! Are you thinking that the fight is over after we collectively got five hits in?" He tried leaning down further and found that he was extremely inflexible when she didn't respond. "What is everyone doing pretending this is some exhibition match? We're showing who would win back at the game corner! Far as I remember, there weren't any lines drawn in the sand! No coaches or judges! So stop stalling! Fight back or else me and Lulu will take this ourselves!"

Erika let her head hang. It felt like a strike against her temple: no holds barred. She could let the defeat lay still.

She could. But she didn't want to. There wasn't any rationalizing here. No hesitation. The dilation in her eyes spoke of a mad fervor that whipped her into a hurricane.

"Growth! She still needs to approach you!" she bellowed.

Which Lulu wasn't about to let happen. Once the battle was back on, she leapt for the largest branch that still looked bendable. It bounced like a diving board and let her sail far above where any of the vines could snap. Of course, that didn't count for when she was falling. The Growth immediately stopped upon her shadow coming across Tangrowth. Vines, no longer needing to dig underneath for the surprise, started shooting upwards like a counter-missile system, plumes of green trailing behind the wiggling tips shooting for her. She was spinning around, letting her blades twirl like an auger.

The first one didn't attempt to do anything other than impale her face. She suddenly flipped, digging into the writhing limb as she twirled down its length. Peels of green were left behind, the shape of a macabre candy cane. A sharp whip of its body sent her towards another one, barely dodged by her flipping above it and using it as a platform to dodge another vine. Digging her blade into it slowed her momentum enough that she could leap out of it right as a tangle wrapped around her former position.

The second that her feet landed, the room's enthusiasm had recovered from the previous lull. A megastructure had appeared in the center of the field, a frustrated bundle of vines that was slowly receding back into Tangrowth's general body. Already there were the same four that jutted into the ground in preparation to stall her from getting near. She wasn't exactly confident that her trainer had figured something out, which is why she visibly relaxed when there was a confident shout above the din.

"Lulu! Sunny Day, and use Growth until you're strong!"

Heat washed over the arena. More celebratory leaves had started raining down since the proclamation, nearly annoying both fighters as it was getting to the point of genuinely blocking their visions. Through the slight cover came down a buffeting heat that had the humans sweating and fighters squinting to keep alert. Glowing started in Lulu's chest and worked alongside her body. A green veil that shimmered like a mirage became brighter by the second until it was the unavoidable beacon on the field.

Erika was bemused but didn't want to waste the opportunity. Growth took a lot of focus from the pokémon, which gave the Tangrowth plenty of time to respond. Using Swords Dance to achieve the same results would most likely take too long however, so she did what she'd promised long ago. There was intrigue, ready to see how the battle escalated from this point when both of them were stronger.

"Psych Up!"

From the clearing where Tangrowth's eyes poked out came a purple aura that fell over its head like a cloak. Immediately he knew there was something wrong, giving a worried glance back at his trainer to try and convey that. Their opponents already knew their plan had worked and didn't want her to notice. Lulu ran ahead with the exact same grace as before. Another dance that got the crowd roaring was initiated, continuing with the same maneuvers and same outcome. A final effort came with the vine exploding out of the ground mid-swing was done, merely managing to flick mud over a good portion of the spectators. She vaulted it with the same form as a long-distance runner, landing in a crouch that ducked underneath one of the arms that swung for her.

It was already decided, in their minds. Tangrowth had locked eyes with the vicious glee in the other set. The arm that was on course to smack her away found itself stalled by a simple blade without any move summoned. Erika gasped in confusion. Feeling the battle progressing, the crowd became the loudest it had yet.

Once again the glare came from beneath her blade. A spot of purple, menacing, reaching up without an attempt to hide it. Tangrowth knew that he couldn't wait for Erika to get with the program. Underneath the fake sun's steely glare, two different pokémon impaled another with a bit of poison. Quickly it caught in their systems, causing two sets of groans. But Lulu knew, and she kept her red eyes locked with the tiny pupils that could be seen within the bush. A fresh scent flew through the air—reserved for herself. Whatever the vines that had wrapped around her legs could do or the arms that were now free to wail upon her, there was one that had been poisoned and another that hadn't. Even then the arms and vines weren't strong enough to send her flying like a golf ball anymore.

It took Erika a moment to clue in: a side of the crowd weeping, the pokémon still as if posing for a painting, Lane pumping his fist in the air. Everyone knew that the battle was at its apex—and she didn't have an answer. Make him Rest and Lurantis would be given full reign to wail on her pokémon's prone body. Any stalling would be for naught when one of them could cure themselves. Beating down Lurantis even in its prone position within the time limit given would be absurdly difficult considering that it had consistently managed to avoid the vines.

Her brow furrowed. She thought. And what he did quickly sank in. Her palm smashed the center of her forehead. It slammed down again and again.

"Contrary. It always makes the pokémon's strength increase or decrease the opposite of what would happen with other pokémon." She started laughing, throwing her head back. "Contrary! Contrary! Psych Up copies any such changes in strength! I'm such a fool! You've won! The challenger has won!"

Finally came those who were unsure. Belting out at the top of their lungs were the yeasayers and the naysayers. A cacophony, with everyone trying to have themselves heard, rang on both sides of Lane's ears as he ran ahead to scoop up his pokémon. Putting her on his shoulder let her arms raise high, the one and only, who got a respectful nod by Tangrowth as he was recalled. Spinning around let her jump up and absorb the attention: from her child that was wildly yanking on Cottonee's fluff, from the humans who never believed that this trainer was anything special. Even Dunsparce was joining in with the noise making as an uncertain warble was smothered within two young girl's full-chested screams.

They ran down the field. Erika slowly picked her head back up to stare at the two, the partners who had beaten her.

"You two…" she lost her words.

Sunny Day hadn't expired, so he could see from every angle, pressed against her face yet coming from within it, perhaps a mere arrangement of pleasurable parts, something greater, something less; what he learned was that he'd been mistaken—the makeup had been his training wheels, a teacher's telescopic stick to guide a student's eyes—in thinking that it was due to a mere change in style, that the feeling of being inadequate could come from a façade. Nothing could be false with her, not what he was feeling nor what she was trying to convey. It wasn't from her face or what she chose to don herself with; the radiance was inside the person that held her soul, a place that wasn't a place. He couldn't tear himself from the green that enveloped him whole as it transported him where the cheers didn't matter and his victory seemed so tiny.

He had started piecing together why he felt like he couldn't lose.

From another place hidden in her clothes. Her fingers had been smooth, warm. Pressed into his palm was a glittering set of rainbow petals sticking out from a white center. Running his thumb across the front caught his skin on the gleaming steel ridges, proof that belonged to thousands of people—but this was his, and those were theirs. He gave it to Lulu so she could see it closer.

"We spent so much more time than I expected," she laughed. "Yoko will be so angry."

Of course she couldn't know that the temperamental woman was watching in the far back, hidden behind the little clique of the oldest women who she knew. Standing amongst them nearly made her look like another employee, and surely the secretary with a steel spine wasn't pinching her nose with pride. A whisper, lost to the wind, "you've grown up so much," allowed to slip out when there were shouts coating the whole room.

The next day, Erika remembered fairy's weaknesses and strengths. Lane divulged how Tangrowth evolved along with other tips as an apology for winning after bending the rules a bit. So the days went until the boat pulled into the port, horn calling for passengers to come aboard.

Chapter Text

"Are you sure that you're okay with leaving?" Erika asked, concerned.

He pressed a thumb into his chest, grinning like a devil. "Don't go worrying about me. I ain't gonna say that Hoenn's completely safe, but what are the chances of another evil team trying to take them over? And either way, I'm a certified badge-carrying member of the grass gym. That means that I've got the grass gym leader's approval that my training skill's better than dirt, right? Right."

Coughing drew him out of the conversation. Tiny docks fit for skippers and ferries were built alongside Route 16, the one directly west from Celadon. Unlike most of the roads in the rest of the region, there were plenty of settlements which were interspersed through the dirt path that mostly made up the route. It was somewhat of an artificial settlement in the sense that most of the buildings were built alongside the cycling road. It had been a simple fishing village without note. Multi-storied buildings and docks for ferrying travelers across the bay lorded over the quaint cottages which weren't even facing the road. Most of the new buildings proudly had Celadon somewhere on them, whether that be their name or slogans. The newest dock had hewn into its railing, "In memory of Waka Celadon".

It made Lane a little more wary about what he'd done since entering the region. There was more going behind the scenes than he ever cared to look. As much as he wanted to say nothing held power over him as long as he didn't take anything seriously, there was a suspiciously large amount of events that went straight over his head. Families which had cities named after them? The rabid defense of typings? Gym leaders not having the exact same teams that he remembered?

And he brushed it off. He was beginning to think that he was above reproach, a theory that'd be tested with the trip he was going on.

She still didn't look eased. Lane had noticed sometime during the week that all of her emotions seemed to be centered around her nose. Displeasure? It would scrunch. Excitement actually made that little bridge between the nostrils raise. It was strange enough, as he'd never seen a person's nose be that expressive. Talking about that seemed awkward, so he never brought it up. That didn't stop him from openly staring when it happened.

"I still don't like it," she said.

His fingers shuffled around his collar. "That why you came out here to see me off?"

"I came out to see you off since you're an employee who's going to be gone for two months in another region. I know that you're rather blasé with this sort of situation, but it's extraordinary that something like this is happening." Nostalgia coated her tongue. It tasted sweet, making her smile. "It was actually back when you first came into the city that I was talking with Yoko. I think we both knew that change was coming in some fashion. Too many things were happening at once. Now we're getting more security than ever, there's a new Champion, the regions are getting closer, and there's brand new typings that are shaking the public to their core."

That was a bit of a surprise. Not that Lane was trying to sound pretentious—even in his own head—but for there to be change outside of what he was doing shocked him, even more that Red wasn't involved either.

"More security?"

Erika smiled a bit. "Ah, you wouldn't have heard since it's a mostly internal process. With the disaster that this whole Team Rocket fiasco has been, it's shocked enough people that they're working on implementing real change. More checks, more consistent oversight, more everything. Soon enough there'll be changes that the average citizen will witness."

"So, like what, background checks?"

"All sorts of things! A little more police oversight inside the cities, more things requiring IDs. I've even heard that they're going to start monitoring problematic individuals too," she said.

The happiness was usually reserved for a little cousin getting an award for a music contest rather than casually talking about surveillance.

"Sounds sketchy," he admitted. With a shrug, he continued, "but it ain't my region. And it was a little egregious that so many Team Rocket members were in—you know what? I shouldn't talk politics. Politics are stupid."

"Politics are necessary. Through doing politics, we're making people's lives better," Erika stressed.

"Agree to disagree. Like oil and water, I'm more about living in the moment. Like good times and weak men, I'm just trying to get by. And like cilantro and onions, I spoil fast. No time to get involved with all that politics stuff when I've got things to do."

"Not entirely sure what any of that means, but your boat is here," she said.

A red and white ferry bounced on the waves as it came to a halt next to the dock. Being closer gave them a better view of its condition. The hull had become of barnacles after having survived without cleaning for around a decade. Green lines of something living ran down from the many crevices, making it look akin to the veins of a living vessel. That was to say nothing about the windows that were fogged over, or the red eyes that were blinking from some of the portholes.

Few left. Even fewer got on. Besides Lane, there were only four other men who were boarding. A Slowking with an anchor necklace took their tickets without complaint as the sailors got out to stretch their legs. A clipper maneuvering around with skill unable to be mimicked by hands quickly snapped off half the paper's worth of holes through the tickets before handing the mangled papers back.

"...this was the only ferry to Hoenn?" he asked.

"That we could get in any reasonable amount of time," Erika said.

That was a lie. Another boat was taking travelers. It was a cruise however, meaning that they were paying more over a longer period of time. Both Erika and Yoko agreed to get the cheaper boat while Lane was none the wiser.

He let an easy smile take over. "Well, at least it'll be an interesting experience. This is goodbye for now. I'll send back the pokémon that I can get and be back within two months. Remember to train Morelull! Eat your veggies and the like."

With a roll of her eyes, Erika pushed his shoulder lightly. "You're much too irreverent to me considering that I'm your boss. Do a good job here and you might still have your job when you come back."

"Righty-o, boss lady!"

"Oh, and make sure that you get Tangela a good home! I won't settle for anybody but one of the best trainers that you can find taking him along," Erika interrupted.

He swiveled on his foot and gave a salute. "Okie dokie, boss lady!"

He was about to move again when she said, "and are you sure that you have enough money? Yoko said no, but I brought a bit with me. It isn't much, but it'll make you—"

He held out his hands without touching her. Normally he was the personal space disruptor; without experimentation however, he didn't know if the radiance would burn him to a crisp like standing next to a nuclear reactor. "Alright, Erika! I'm sure everything'll be alrighty. If you want to give me the money I wouldn't refuse, but you're micromanaging! Or spiraling! Whatever! You're doing something! I'm leaving! Go spend that worry on your gym if you've got that much energy."

"Oh, fine." She puckered her lips, opened her mouth, then closed it again, then spoke. "Then stay safe. I'd be beside myself if one of my employees was hurt doing something for me."

"No promises!"

With the last word, Lane went and boarded the boat. The inside was just as filthy as the outside and Lane was perfectly fine with leaving that as its only description. He sat at one of the many stools built into the floor that were pressed against a counter overlooking the edge of the ship, waiting for it to start moving. Erika was still watching from the dock. With one last wave exchanged, she finally left.

That was going to turn into a nap at the same exact place she always did. He learned her schedule. Always a midday nap would be partaken no matter what. Seemed pointless to him. Sleeping left you out from experiencing things more. If he were able to control his sleep, then he'd make it so he never had to.

"Friendly with a gym leader? I've heard that this Kanto folk are allergic to anybody from out region."

He turned to see a man who looked like he belonged as a member of the Dutchman's crew himself. Crooked grin and yellow teeth were the greatest of the man's problems among a whole outfit trying to reinforce the sketchy backdealer ensemble. It was the trenchcoat and tech pants that really sold the back alley feeling, rough skin rubbing against the clothes in a way that made anyone watching feel dirty.

Another reason that he was suspicious, Lane groused in his head. Leave the region of backwards weirdos and you immediately run into the arms of a new type of weirdo.

"Sorry, but I wasn't fished from the bottom of the sea like you were. I come from a civilized foreign country, the middle of the wilderness." Lane pumped his arm in the air. "Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum. What 'x marks the spot' did you come from?"

"You're trying to be funny and it's not working. Unova, if you need to know. This is one of the only boats that goes between all the regions that we know of, and so I hopped on the chance. Not everyday you see the world at a good rate," the man said.

"Really?"

"Yep." The man pointed up at the Wingull. "Let me tell you: not much different all these places are, even the birds. They try to tell you that there's 'regional bird'. Pidgey are still festering in Sinnoh's cities and Tranquil're up north in Kanto. Bunch of scam talk."

"If you say so."

"I do." The man checked behind them before whispering, "you a trainer? I've actually picked up pokémon as I've been traveling. You seem open to the idea of a boost, unlike all of the Kanto people that I've met. Y'see, traveling's hard, as I'm sure you know. You've got to be open with any money that you can get. If there's pokémon that look like they wanna see the world, take 'em, and find 'em a good trainer that's willing to shell out money—like the one that I'm looking at right now."

Lane raised an eyebrow. "Do you only not like Kanto 'cause they didn't want to buy from you?"

"Yes."

It was supposed to be a point of criticism, but Lane retracted his statements before he could speak. Being a hypocrite wasn't cool. He'd been thinking that Kanto people were dumb since trying to convince them a new typing existed. It was likely (though he doubted it) that Kanto weren't the most exceptionally dumb people in the whole world, rather just the first that he'd met.

He really doubted it though.

"What do you have? And what do you want for it?" Lane asked.

Something clicked in Lane's head when the man spread his trenchcoat wide; he put a pin on it and focused on the present. Pokéballs were held inside little straps that were specifically made for them, easy to deduce that the man made some kind of living from selling pokémon. There was a puzzle on how the man could actually make a living with a job requiring charisma. Besides the look of some back-alley merchant, Lane could smell him over the must of the boat and salt of the sea.

"I've got an Alolan Rattata, Tynamo, Vanillite, and Trubbish." The man gave a crooked grin that clearly showed the cavities in his teeth. "If you even know what those're. Just some money or an equal trade. Either or."

"An equal trade would be a Rattata for most of those, man. None of those are exactly powerhouses, gems in the rough even," Lane said.

"If that's what you believe. Now, are you interested?"

Lane held up a finger and walked off slightly away for some privacy. The back deck of the ferry only had a single man who looked wholly out of place in his suit, hunched over with his eyes closed. A flash of color briefly overtook the deck as Dunsparce took shape. Lane kneeled down and patted the pokémon's back.

"Dunsparce," he greeted. The pokémon mewled as Lane scratched the back of his head. "I've just found a guy who's been funding his trips around the world by selling pokémon. He's also willing to trade too."

He stopped there, continuing to scratch. A sigh at the confused look. His head lolled backwards before snapping straight. He needed to be serious. If being serious meant pretending, then he'd pretend as hard as he normally did.

"To be honest, I don't like considering this. I thought that since you'd come with me back there, you were going to be one of the main characters, you know? But you're you. You don't like getting in silly situations where your life is at stake. I love it. It's just…" He tried grappling with the words, unable to finish the sentence. "I'm going to continue getting myself into trouble. I live for it. You're not a battling pokémon and you've never made yourself out to be one. I'm sure that this guy will get you a home that's more your speed than, uh, my speed."

The whimpers that were coming from underneath his hand made him feel bad. The yellow skin that ran between his fingers felt smooth, little bristles of hair catching in his fingernails. Made to keep as much dirt from sticking as possible.

"Now I'm not doing this 'cause I want to abandon you or something stupid like that. It's just that you obviously don't like facing against criminals or being forced to dive into rivers, and I'm half-expecting to be forced into doing both of those again. This is your out. Otherwise, we'll stick together. I'd appreciate the help!" Lane gently put his hand underneath Dunsparce's jaw, guiding around the horns that were there, and lifted it so they were making eye contact. "So do you want to go with him? I can't promise that he's going to be the greatest ride ever, but it sounds like he's going to travel far and wide. I'm sure that you'll find—" Lane stopped. "Sorry, just realized this sounds like I'm trying to convince you. I'll let you decide."

Its bulbous head burrowed itself deeper into the nails that it was getting scratched with. Lane was the type to be overly affectionate, but that trait had fallen by the wayside since they started traveling. The person who had gotten them into life-threatening situations wasn't the same who was settled down. The choice wasn't that hard to make outside of sentimentality. Was Lane a good enough person to stick with even if they were going to be constantly sticking their noses where they didn't belong? Did Dunsparce really feel like going back home where he'd see the same tract of land for the rest of his life?

Dunsparce nodded. With one last hug, Lane recalled his pokémon.

That was the last that trainer and pokémon had ever seen each other. With his status of a vagrant, it would've been easy to trade abused pokémon then disappear into the sunset of another region yet, despite appearances, the seedy merchant had a big heart for all kinds of pokémon. He taught the pokémon under him. He fed them. Let them stretch their legs. And he did that for as long as the pokémon needed to finally get chosen.

They traveled between all the regions—Hoenn, Sinnoh, Unova, Kalos, Alola—before heading back to Kanto since the merchant wanted to see how the region had improved since he last was there. Since arriving, it had become trendy for the younger generation to have at least one foreign pokémon in their repertoire—a consequence of Kanto becoming more ingrained with the international world while still not having the interest to become a world-class destination. He traded Dunsparce for a shiny Rattata, which the merchant ended up keeping for the rest of his life.

The person who traded for Dunsparce was one Chase, a trainer who was taking his time exploring all of Kanto. That meant the backroads. That meant the cities. His journey had already taken months when he'd received his third badge, when Dunsparce was added to his team. The pace that they kept was much more reasonable for him. Once realizing that the feeble pokémon wasn't cool with battling, he'd been left behind for the serious battles. But that was okay. Dunsparce wanted it to be like that. He got scratches, care, and bonded with the other pokémon on his team, so much so that Lane had become a distant memory. But he never forgot the experiences that they shared together. Sometimes he wished that he could ask his trainer to find where Lane had gone to show how much he'd grown.

He was also the first Dunsparce in the known world to evolve. That had sent the Johto press into a frenzy. Lane had read in the paper clear across the region about a pokémon known for years evolving for the first time, and chose to believe it was his own to make it a feel-good story.

Lane leaned on the counter and took a deep whiff. Nope. No matter how long he stayed next to the man, that smell was impossible to get used to.

"So how'd you know that I was a foreigner?" Lane asked.

Just as he asked that, the boat finally lurched forwards. Even the movement felt sluggish like a car with defective spark plugs. Chug, chug, like each wave would break the hull. Their conversation kept them awake late into the night.

A large clearing, partially manmade and partially natural, connected with many similar clearings in a chain generally heading in one direction, going on for so long that it had at some point been deemed as a route. The warm climate that seemed never to tire over the long, hot and humid days made all living things complacent about their lives, working beneath the mops of hair fashionable in the region. Not as if living near the equator was exactly heaven, mind. Many in the region could point to the world-shattering hurricanes that had permanently changed maps over the decades. Broad segments of the population theorized that a hurricane that would create a crisis happened once a generation. Meteorologists begged people to stay in their lane and leave predictions about the weather to themselves—even with many in their own profession silently holding their own superstitions.

Evergreen were the primary trees that lived in the region. Oceans of green competed with the vast blue surface that stretched just beyond the heavy brush of civilization. Incomprehensible to outsiders, it was not a place of thick forests with inhospitable pokémon laying in wait. The island only had so much space, and there wasn't anymore virgin land unsoiled by human boots. Professions of all persuasions loitered around without much care of human or pokémon territory; for them, there was hardly any difference, and it wasn't so rare that wild pokémon would nap next to picnickers.

Most of the nearby cities hadn't much to boast in entertainment, leaving people with the option of taking walks when they got tired of the same three restaurants. Many space-cutting measures were ingeniously thought up in response to there always being space constraints, the pokémon a constant threat to civilization as they'd rampage if too much wild land was stolen. No roads between cities, therefore no cars, which gave the pokémon just that much extra acreage to graze. At some point a genius had suggested building vertically, then another building with the intention of making it seem as if the buildings were part of the environment themselves, and older than all suggestions was the idea to sacrifice some conveniences enjoyed in other regions. Thus movies trickle slowly; movies, plays, fashion, and all the beauty that made life worth living took time to pierce into the slow veins of Hoenn. It made the tastes just as lethargic.

Everything was lethargic underneath the Hoenn sun. The heat would work underneath your hair and burn your ideas.

Kids played in the grass as he walked by. Wild grasses and pokémon droppings laid at the feet of a neglected disc golf cage. All the way there was a respect for the wild pokémon that would scurry across the dirt path that cut straight through the forest, all the way, leaving no litter or trampled plants. He'd already seen plenty of people he'd met passing by. They gave greetings and congratulations on starting his journey, stalling just a little to give him their favorite stories from back in the day.

Tall grass next to the path were typical places for smaller pokémon to hide from predators. It was an easy place to catch another pokémon if you searched for them. He readjusted the strap against his chest. Hesitating walking into battles was a normal thing, he reassured himself. Pokémon were practically made to fight against each other. He was on a journey. That meant fighting in gyms. He didn't want to do that either. He didn't want to interrupt the people who were grooming their pokémon. He traveled without having stopped for a single battle.

Southern Hoenn's cities were clustered together close enough that a dedicated person could walk through routes to make a day trip. Dedicated he was not, smelling the roses by letting people talk to him and appreciating the feeling of freedom as reading lights flicked on behind the windows ahead. Atmosphere thinned. Eyes poked beneath the knots of grass. Flowers faded as the tree's gnarls dug into the dark with malicious intent. The large cleavage above the road let a breadcrumb of stars guide him to Oldale without being accosted.

The punny name wasn't an exaggeration; most of the city's buildings were sequestered deep into the forest alongside paths only they knew, lumber mills and wooden weaving factories—repurposed houses, or literally in a person's living room—making baskets that were sold in the bigger cities, near unchanged for the centuries that it'd been established. Lit windows gladly beckoned travelers in, especially a kid who'd introduced himself the previous week. His fingers worked down the crease on the bag's strap. They'd ask things like what his starter was, how far he was planning to go and questions that he didn't have a good answer to. How could he answer when even he didn't know?

He recognized that it was hard calling the place a proper town. The differences between his homes stood out in the way that a favorite ice cream bar never would have an equal to its fantastic nutty goodness; he noticed with barely much attention put between the better and the lesser, yet still noticing, such as the way that besides the haphazard organization were great leaps between each of the buildings. Where he stood was a concentration of homes and they still had nearly an acreage of space between them. Like the rest of the region he'd seen, it was hard to differentiate where the forest began and city ended.

Black emerged from black. A figure shambled forth in a cloak that dragged on the grass. He squinted, trying to make out the edges from the forest behind them. It was only when the person had crossed in front of a house that he realized he'd been imagining things. Not a cloak, but a leather trench coat ballooned up the figure's form. Walking beyond the town limits had revealed the ridges of his clothes that shrouded a much smaller figure. A fedora blocked the person's face. He wasn't scared despite the shady disposition—it was Oldale. A city that was tiny constantly dealt with wild pokémon, meaning they taught their children how to battle. It was the balancing effect; large cities certainly attracted more talent while necessity bred skill in the smaller ones. A single scream would have everyone within hearing distance dogpile a would-be thief.

The figure didn't raise the hat. He wondered if they even could see where they were going until they turned to face him.

"Oy, gov'na," the figure said. It sounded like they were trying to rasp out breath from the bottom of their lungs, their vowels breathed towards the back of their throat. "Would you care to see my wares?"

Somebody had pulled aside their curtain to watch the interaction behind the figure's back.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"You don't ask the identity of a travelin' merchant, gov'na. If you must know, call me Kane. Now onto business! I've got rare things from other regions if you care," Kane said.

Childish curiosity took over. "What do you have?"

The figure flared out their hand. The inside of their coat had straps and hoops to hold various items inside; he recognized that the little red stitches clearly distinct from the leather made these rather poorly done additions to the poor outfit's initial purpose. Revealing their squishy underbelly, the light material of the nice shirt wouldn't protect against the crisp nights.

He muttered "out of region" as he looked through the wares. Pokéballs, pokédexes, berries, a vial, and brochures compacted together efficiently enough that nearly no free space was left. Two hoops conspicuously hung limply. Either Kane ran out of things to stuff in there or things were actually being sold.

He pointed to the pokéballs. "What're those?"

"Exotic pokémon! Some you can't even find in this region! We've got a Tangela straight from Kanto, bred from the best grass-type trainer there. In another we've got a Fomantis hailing from the Alola region. Give this one the proper care and it'll be the brightest pokémon you've seen. We've got a special Rattata that you can't get anywhere in the known world. Finally, we've got a Tynamo, a li'l electric-type. But may I direct your attention to these devices?"

"Isn't that a pokédex? I've already got one."

He pulled out his own to show it off. It was a chunk of plastic that he couldn't see the use of. Meeting enough pokémon that he needed a whole list on command felt impossible.

Kane's eyes spun between the pokédexes.

"They're already over here?"

"I was told that this was brand new technology. The professor said that he was personally giving them out. Um, that's all I know," he said.

More calculations ran behind Kane's pupils. His hand did a flourish as he flared out his coat.

"My mistake then! It's good that you've gotten yourself a pokédex! They're a valuable resource that will eventually become used by everybody if I've got anything to say about it. I've got a contract." Kane winked. The boyish face underneath the fedora completely stood at odds against the clothing.

He didn't know how to respond, so he changed the subject. "What are those papers?"

"Little brochures that are full of information about Kanto. You'll have cool landmarks that are further from the beaten path, certain pokémon paths, and a lot of fun facts, such as the famous Silence Bridge being 80 whole kilometers! They're really cheap 'cause they're easy to make. Take one! Check their quality for yourself!"

The paper crinkled. Neither lamination or a thicker paper was afforded for the handwritten guides, surprisingly accurate sketches against a plain white background. Its two creases unfolded into a wide panorama. Just as Kane said, there were detailed descriptions of landmarks that the author insisted were bucket list options. If even half of them were true then he was interested. Former villain bases in various states of destruction sounded awesome if there were no villains inside.

A hand stuck itself in front of the page. "Hey, words ain't free! I had to make all these myself!"

"How much?" he asked.

"Fifteen pokédollars." Kane shrugged at the look. "C'mon, gov'na. Ain't trying to run a scam operation here. It only takes me around ten minutes and a slight creep towards carpal tunnel to make 'em."

He paid and slid it into his backpack. With a flick of Kane's thumb, the fedora was over his face again. He wondered if Kane could see past it.

"Thanks for the sale, gov'na. I might see you on the road."

Kane walked into the pokémon center with a mysterious gait. Slow down, speed up, slow down, repeat the process until the masses get confused. He entered the sliding door and looked around for any modern conveniences. No staircase led to a new area. Only a young Nurse Joy had her feet kicked up behind the counter with her Chansey sleeping on top of a table. The building didn't even have a back room which led to a mysterious dilemma of where exactly all the medicine was stored (safes hidden behind the counter).

A magazine blocked a clear view of her face. She had the decency to lower it when he walked up.

"Does Hoenn not have rooms provided by the pokémon centers?" Kane asked.

"Why would they? We're here for healing, not to be a budget hotel. If you need somewhere to sleep then I'd try for somebody to take you in. But hey, I'm not all that comfortable asking random people to give me stuff either. Literal worst part of my journey, seriously. You can sleep in here tonight if you're not a snorer. Hate snoring."

The trenchcoat was delicately draped against the top of the only table. Thinking better of it, he laid it on the floor like a carpet. Then he decided that getting it dirtier was stupid and laid it back on the table. Finally two chairs were shoved together so only people's butt stink would get on the cheap leather. The great outdoors were the greatest equalizer for smells. Nearly nothing in the world could beat matted body oil mixed with grass stains, except for the butt stench of thousands of butts. Using the jacket for protection against the gross seats also prevented anybody from stealing the vial inside. The thing was worth his entire existence along with the next generation of relatives and a few of the stars in the sky—probably—which gave him rightful reason to be paranoid against thieves.

He ignored the stress from having an actual mission and the question of where he'd shower. It was what he was best at: ignoring the implications of everything and just doing what he thought would be fun. Dollar signs leapt over fences as he relaxed. One sale, two sales, three sales, melding into a continuous line of profit until the sun rose.

Route 102 was much wider and had more lineated borders between path and not, though in Hoenn that distinction hardly mattered when people casually fed Hoppips from the hand. Straight paths to larger cities tended to be larger to allow all kinds of traffic alongside the normal walkers which made the route even more crowded.

Certain qualities seemed to be missing out of the rugged adventure that his parents were constantly lecturing him about, perhaps missed out when they left Johto behind. Having a person always in sight made it feel as if he were walking around a nature-themed amusement park rather than roughing it in the wild. His feet weren't even getting sore since he'd always been an active child. The only difference was a new little guy who was dutifully trailing at his heels, prancing from being free from his pokéball. Treecko curiously sniffed at everything new that they passed, which was nearly everything since he spent most his life inside a lab's controlled environment. Every now and then the pokémon would give his trainer a nod to show that he was still paying attention before continuing to be excited by nothing in particular.

It was well down the path that he saw the same trench coat from Oldale. Whatever intimidation that the boy originally commanded had disappeared under the revealing light, showing his scrawny limb and nerd-ish look. Hands on a crying kid would normally be cause for concern if said kid wasn't halfway sunk into the ground. Kane's head was barely visible over the thick glades, blown up like a balloon and glowing red.

The shout came out with only a few sputters. "Oi! Popcorn seat number one over there? Could you come over and give me a hand?"

He jumped, checked around—nobody other than him. The whole situation made a little more sense when he waded into the grass. There was a hole that had trapped one leg, the other leg feebly trying to push it out. Dirt pressed against the bare skin. It was so interesting that he stalled in actually helping just to get better views of just how stuck the kid's leg was. It made sense why the young kid was panicking so bad.

"Oh, it's you gov'na. Thought that you'd be a little more proactive than this," Kane grumbled. His hands were hooked underneath the kid's armpits, giving an experimental tug when he could. "This is why there should be classes directly about the Q and A's about a journey. Like, I don't know, don't actually walk through grass that you can't see through? Think about how pissed a Geodude would've been if it were—"

Kane was interrupted as a hand flew out and smacked him across the jaw.

With one person clearing the grass so they could get a better view and another instructing, they went through the laborious process that reminded him of a keyhole. Turn the shoe, find the tumbler, click! Repeat the process until the kid was scurrying back to town forfeiting the chance to ever become a trainer again; he'd be out again two days later, getting thrashed by the kids from his school who had more experience.

Smacking his hands together as if that'd free them of the sticky beads of sweat from the warmest part of a person's body, Kane recomposed himself into the same personality that he had the previous day. A grin attempting to be roguish was attempted. A voice attempting to be from down under was attempted too. Somehow both were working.

"Thanks for the assistance, gov'na. Brat got himself stuck in there and nobody was stopping to help so, y'know! Got to be the hero in some stories. Hero. Hero? Hero! That's who you are!"

He pointed a finger to his chest. "Hero? My name's Brendan."

"Good to finally get a name to the face, hero!" Brendan turned his shoulders inward as Kane slapped his back. Way too familiar way too fast. "You've already heard my name. I'm the traveling merchant Kane. One foot in the buyer's market and the other in the seller's."

"Brendan. Pokémon trainer." He said the next part much quieter, "or I'm trying to be."

"That's why you're out and about? I've never been much for training myself. Call me an anti-trainer, and that ain't cause I hate trainers." Kane's eyes squinted brow furrowed as if he were thinking. "Hey, you know about what 'timeline' means?"

Brendan leaned backwards from the sudden intensity. "Um, a line of things that happen?"

Kane kept up the facade before cracking back into that stupid smile. "Yeah, about what I expected. Not that you traveling around changes nothing. Just says a lot. Like, what if there's some kind of thing going over in Unova, you know? Right now? Not that it matters much to me. So! We're both going over to Petalburg, yeah? Let me tag along, gov'na!"

Brendan took a second to realize that the topic shifted. "What? Why would you want to travel with me?"

"Because I'm not a trainer so I don't have any way to defend myself if I'm attacked!" Kane yelled, putting his hands to his hips.

Brendan had to remind himself what part of the region that they were in: the southern part. The southern part of the region which had a reputation of being temperate and safe, amazing combinations for tourists allegedly. It was always bragged about even in the boonie towns that didn't see any of these tourists. There was a literal negative amount of human-pokémon incidents, since the pokémon would occasionally help a fledgling trainer from a bad situation and save their life.

Eyes trailed down Kane's figure. Nothing really jumped out to him from a second inspection. People in real life weren't detectives and sometimes the grease stain underneath Kane's collar was just a grease stain.

There was no reason to dismiss the offer. Traveling with another person may help his confidence, Brendan reasoned, seeing somebody who was even less familiar with pokémon than he was. Confidence boosts could come from a genuine desire to help along with comparing yourself with the absolute rock bottom. Brendan saw somebody who could be helped by his minute, shallow pool of pokémon knowledge.

"Sure," Brendan said.

He wasn't expecting for Kane to grab his wrist and start dragging him along. "Great! I've got a lot of product to sell, so let's-a go, gov'na! Daylight's a-burning!"

Despite him wishing for an opportunity to prove himself, the reputation of southern Hoenn prevailed. What was he really expecting in a heavily populated route? The absolute worst thing to happen was the two watching a new trainer getting destroyed by a person with a single gym badge. Brendan picked up the pace so his new companion wouldn't see the same situation happen with him.

The relative closeness of towns allowed them to arrive at Petalburg when the sun started to set. The town was metaphysically rural, its borders between civilization and nature constantly flexing. Kane was especially unimpressed by the tiny strip of grass that interrupted the path as if declaring 'here be city' from the entirely similar dirt path that continued into town. Trees broached into the town proper with barely a care of the branches that hung over the squat buildings. None of this was helped by the complete lack of public pavement. A shore of water that had pooled near the town's edge made Kane shiver, thinking of the mosquitoes that the place must've had during the height of summer. Deeper within were buildings that from a higher vantage point were still indistinguishable from the forest when they were still surrounded by trees, though had the decency to be actual 'city buildings' that were more than 3 stories.

A girl stopped them just before they entered the town proper. "Welcome to Petalburg!" read a wooden sign staked into the ground just next to her, hidden behind her red shirt that hung off her shoulders with thin straps. The giant bow on the girl's head made Kane just think about how impractical that was, though conceded that he was the one walking around in a trenchcoat; most days felt as if he were stuck into an oven, while making him feel like he wasn't wearing anything at all when the sun went down. Her smile would've been infectious if her audience wasn't the most irreverent boy coupled with the most morose one.

"May!" Brendan yelled.

"Me!" she yelled back. Her hands gestured to the addon. "Who's this? Are you finally going out and making friends?"

"I-I don't know?" Brendan said.

"I think that we're a little more casual than that, gov'na," Kane said wryly, sticking out his hand. "The name's Kane. Traveling merchant. Would you happen to have a pokédex?"

"Of course! My dad's giving them out to every trainer who comes by his lab! What d'ya need them for?" she asked. She flaunted the pink-colored one that was in her pocket before stuffing it back in.

"Just need you to use it often enough that people see them." Kane's voice started losing the deliberately rough edges as it turned nearly into bubbly wonder. "But, uh, what's with the custom design? It's all girly and stuff."

"It's great, isn't it?"

"I meant how that's even practical. They've literally just started being made."

May's grin turned wider. "Oh my gosh, you're totally plugged in. So you know how the scientists are part of some whole group? Like the scientist group? Of scientists? My dad knows Professor Oak and…"

Brendan trailed behind them with a pout. Who cared if he was making friends or not? He could make friends at his own pace. Moving into a new region where he didn't know a single person was cause for at least a little moping, which he was not doing because it was perfectly normal to be down when you left behind your friends and it was normal to be sad without moping. The two were talking perfectly normally—Kane mostly listening but pitching in with equally enthusiastic responses—as if they were lifelong friends. Brendan felt as if his chest was burning up.

Pokémon centers were standardized across the region. The only influence that local owners had over its existence were the drinks, kept inside the secret refrigerator underneath the counter, and the paintings. Even the books were curated to be about specific pokémon, talking about the dangers of Rattata or common mistakes trainers made since this was the normal gym. She handed her pokémon to the nurse as Kane showed the items that he was lugging around.

An elbow was driven into his ribs when she realized that Brendan had been left behind.

"Why are you so quiet? I'd think that you'd be jumping at a chance to see your father again!" May said.

"It's not like I didn't see him earlier this week," Brendan mumbled, "and that's kind of the problem. I'm going to see him in his gym."

Kane snickered, leaning on the table. "Big shoes to fill, hero?"

"Hero?" May asked.

Before Brendan could give a sober account, the unsober one between them spoke up. "You should've seen it. I was stuck in the tall grass because this kid got his foot stuck into a hole. You should've seen it. I swear that there was a ground-type down there giving us grief by making the dirt clamp down onto his leg. And then, you should've seen it, Brendan saw what was happening and came to help. He calmed the kid down and pulled the grass back so we could see his foot. All of that pretty much his doing. If it weren't for him then we could've gotten attacked by a wild pokémon! I'm pretty defenseless, y'know, since I ain't a trainer."

May repeated the word. She rolled the word around in her mouth, gnawed on it a little, before lighting up like a firework. An explosion of exuberance made her words a little hard to understand with how much emphasis pushed them out.

"Hero! That's awesome! I can't believe that the boy who moved into town is so heroic!"

Brendan rubbed the back of his head, chuckling nervously. That was definitely not how he would've told the story.

"But, hero! You didn't tell me that your dad's a gym leader. Why are we wasting our time here when there's stuff to do?" Kane turned to May with a smirk. "Speaking of, why don't you come along with us? Your personality's fun, which is great to show that my products are used by good people."

"I've heard that a journey is supposed to be private though," May said.

That was what Brendan heard too. Granted, there were a lot of things that he heard about the journey in Hoenn that was completely different from Johto. Take the beliefs between the regions (so he was told by his dad): the former thought that the journey connected you with the long line of trainers that came before while the latter believed that the journey taught children the importance of living amongst nature. Brendan heard that Kanto perverted the origin of the journey and taught their children it was about getting stronger, creating an army of soldiers that would one day dominate Johto; his dad said that was a schoolyard rumor that was completely false, and he remembered that night his parents doing dishes side by side, his dad repeating it to his mom and both of them overpowering the radio with laughter. Hoenn definitely (still according to his dad) also was more lax on those who couldn't get far. Brendan remembered some kid back home being made fun of because the dad hadn't been able to get his first badge. One of the men back in his (new) home was proud to talk about how badly he'd gotten thrashed at the second gym before calling it quits.

All of this was a little too much for Brendan's undeveloped mind to comprehend. Brendan believed that kids, and especially himself, weren't meant to be talking about stupid stuff like good and evil, the complexities of stuff and stupid stuff. He liked when things were yes/no or good/evil. Walking alone good. Walking with others evil.

Just repeating the concept in his head sounded stupid. He'd get bored if it was just him and Treecko for the entire trip. It wasn't his job to convince her though. Apparently Kane had taken it upon himself, hunching low, hands moving around as if narrating a great fable of knights and dragon-types.

"Think about this closer! Trainers are always told that they get stronger through fighting each other—but is that a good lesson? Is it the real lesson? Why do you have a 'team' and not a group of pokémon that are under you? It's because you're all working together, which is what makes all of you strong! When you're congratulated, it's about having a good pokémon and training it well. We're always told that two heads are better than one. So what's wrong with there being two people? Two people make each of their journey safer because they can fight off wild pokémon better and collaborate for stuff. Therefore, the people who do their journey alone are dumb, fo' real."

Brendan and May looked as if their entire worldview was thrown into the waves.

"My dad hasn't ever said that I need to go alone and he's the smartest person that I know," May said.

"Exactly! Trainers are actually meant to travel together and it's just people who don't have friends jealous of those who do," Kane said.

Brendan stiffened up as his hands were grabbed and shaken. "Do you hear that? We can travel together!"

Something dumb inside of Brendan awoke. He knew that it was dumb, and if it were real then it'd probably have a slimy black skin with red eyes just because nothing so dumb and malicious could look nice.

"I didn't agree to having you two follow me. And are we even friends?" Brendan said.

Her hands slid from his as the enthusiastic expression melted into a disappointed one. Kane was looking at him trying to convey an entire page of his thoughts into a single stare. His chest burned, hands still held aloft where she was holding them.

"But it's fine. It sounds good. We can travel together. Yeah," he quickly added.

May bounced back as if nothing happened. "Cool! I'm going to get my pokémon!"

She ran off to the counter. Kane winked.

"Don't worry. I didn't notice any slip up. Though next time don't be like that with her. She seems like she genuinely wants to be your friend. Then again, she seems like the type who would make a friend with a rock if it looked nice enough."

Didn't that feel nice? The only person in town who took to him was the girl who would make friends with rocks. She came back and went back to talking Kane's ear off. He only spoke up to say that they should visit the gym. Better get it out of the way earlier than later.

Down the street were doors that he was expected to become familiar with. Whatever teen angst that he felt slid off the closer that they got to the gym, replaced with pure anxiety. Under the quickly darkening night it became harder to differentiate the foreground from the front. That was the reason they didn't notice there were two people talking outside the gym's entrance until there was no going back. Brendan saw his dad glance over to their group even as he continued talking to the kid half his height. It would've been hard to take the kid seriously if you didn't notice the six pokéballs on his side, at the very least an indication that a trainer had some sort of skill. No trainer could maintain that many pokémon without having something behind them, whether that be skill or money.

It was easy to see past the transparent sliding door Norman was blocking. A single desk was all the formalities afforded before the first barren room, tatami mats on the far end and wooden planks on the closer one. 'ENTRANCE', a sign on the wall boldly read in another language. About the simplest design for a gym that Kane had ever seen. Though, when he thought about it longer, he'd only seen four gyms. Erika's was far and away the best, and he wasn't paid to say that. Blaine's was awesome. Koga's was stupid. Norman's wasn't good or bad. Was that an in-joke or were Norman's aesthetic sensibilities that poor?

"Thank you for the fight, Mr. Norman!" the kid said before running off.

Norman waved a goodbye before turning to the group with a wide smile. There were some traces of Brendan in the older man. Puberty hadn't yet revealed the broad jaw that would echo his dad's, and the severe gaze lost impact from being attached to his gangly limbs. May's head kept snapping between the two.

"Welcome to Petalburg, Brendan. You settling in all right? Haven't had any major problems with your journey?"

"Yeah, dad," Brendan said.

Norman glanced at the other two. "Are you going to introduce me to your friends?"

That dark ugly thing came up unbidden again—why was everybody introduced as his friend like he needed playdates to talk?—and was shoved back inside when May pushed herself up front.

"May Birch, sir, the girl who will take your badge within a few months time!" she yelled, pointing a finger to his face.

He laughed deeply, throwing back his head at the direct challenge. "I'd like to see you try! It's easier for you to say such a thing when you're at the start of your journey. That kid you saw? It took him a year to get to where he was. Between you lot and I, if I wasn't tired from the move, then I would've beaten him and made him have to work for even longer. Tame your expectations. Maybe you'll be at my level in a decade."

The finger pointed to the sky, another joining it. She looked like one of the coordinators that Brendan had seen advertised on the television. "Two months! That's all that we need! We'll be fighting you in two months and both of us will walk away with a badge. Heck, you could even say that we'll storm the whole League within two months."

"I like you! You've got guts to say all of that. I'll be eagerly awaiting both of your challenges in a reasonable time frame." He turned to Kane, eyeing the little trenchcoat. "So are you not a trainer or do you just have more realistic expectations?"

"Kane, sir, a traveling merchant. Would you happen to have a pokédex? If not, then we can come to an arrangement."

"A pokédex? You're talking about that machine that the professor is trying to give out to everybody," Norman said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Were you sent by the professor to bother me into taking one?"

"A professor sent me, but not the one you're thinking of. Professor Oak wants to have the word of the pokédex spread far and wide, so here I am. If I can get every gym leader to use one then I think that'll be the greatest advertisement that I could get," Kane said.

"What use could I have for one? I know enough about pokémon," he said.

May jumped into the conversation, bounding forward on one foot. "Oh! I can answer that! With a database that will contain every known pokémon, you'll never be blindsided by strange abilities and typings even if you're dealing with a wild one that you're unfamiliar with! They're going to include all kinds of apps that'll make it easier for you to—"

"Alright, alright, you've convinced me. I would've taken up the professor on his offer earlier if I knew he was going to send kids as salesmen," Norman said. He glared into the sky as if he were offended by the sun leaving. "Looks like we don't have any time for more challengers. I'll close up the gym. Want to come back with me, kids?"

"Dad! We're not going to be able to keep up!" Brendan complained.

May tilted her head. "Keep up?"

Norman looked around as if somebody would be listening in. It was a fake act that made him seem like he was divulging a great secret—and it worked, with both May and Kane leaning forwards like they were one of the few he was privy towards. He got on one knee and whispered.

"I told the press that I can make the walk between my house and back in thirty minutes. It's more like an hour, but now I've already established myself as a fast walker," he said.

It took May and Brendan a day to make the same trip. Sure, May had spent most of the time looking at the pokémon in the routes and creating extravagant lunches that were shared with a nice couple of cyclists who forgot their own, whereas Brendan was both metaphorically and literally dragging his feet, and Kane meandered in everything he did, but the sheer difference in time made the man seem even more gigantic. The duo couldn't stop their jaws from lowering in awe from the man's pace.

"Fast walker," Kane said. He wasn't so impressed. Red had forced him into an army pace at times.

"I strive to keep discipline in every part of my life. I can show you my route home and then treat you to dinner," Norman said.

"This sounds fun. We should do it, you two," Kane said.

May did a double-take, making a face so shocked that Kane doubted it was real. "What what what!? We did all this walking and you want to undo all that progress?"

"It's a journey, not a business. You're trying to get all the badges so you can challenge the elite four, which is a nice goalpost, but the journey has about the least deadlines you're gonna worry about in your life. Enjoy your worry-free time, gov'na," Kane said.

"Everything that he said is right. There's no problem in worrying about expending extra effort, but you can make this trip within two hours even with your little legs. I'll teach you proper walking techniques so you can walk most efficiently," Norman said.

"But this is going to cut into the two month deadline!" May complained.

Norman took it in good humor. "Then why don't we consider this day a cheat day? Two months from tomorrow."

They ended up walking back. May only pouted for half the trip. Norman also turned out to have vastly estimated the kids' stamina and made the trip take about two and a half hours instead.

He stood outside the house, staring into the trees as if another 'friend' would reveal itself. Treecko was relaxing against the wall, staring in the same place trying to figure out what his trainer was looking at.

The day was exhausting in multiple ways. The part that hurt the most were his calves, abused from the insane pace that his dad considered relaxed. The second hurt was about every part of his personality having a different issue with a different part of the day. Getting to see his dad in his working environment was both aweing and crippling. Just to imagine the person who he was expected to become, a person so prestigious that a foreign region asked him to take over the duties of a gym. Seeing the gym in person had made it seem more like a cathedral. It made him feel smaller than normal.

All these feelings were way too complicated for him to comprehend. He considered that might've been the point of going on a journey—something about connecting with nature, or being alone, or being forced to rely on your pokémon for survival (even when there were generally rangers less than a stone's throw away), or just getting to beat the crud out of other trainers' pokémon made you more mature somehow. Brendan certainly didn't feel more mature standing out in the chilly night and he didn't feel more mature asking around Oldale for lodgings. He didn't feel as if a spark awoke within him watching other people battle, and he didn't recognize his battling as significant when all the wild encounters he had so far nearly led to Treecko fainting.

The worst part was his dad bantering with May. His dad humoring the bold declaration by constantly prodding May's side made him ill. It took Norman himself a little over a year and a half to blow through all the badges and beat multiple elite four members. After that he went to Kanto to train there, almost beat all the elite four again, before keeping active within the battling community after he went back to school. 'More reasonable time frame' his dad said. What did that mean? If his dad thought that a few months wasn't realistic, then was his own dad's time frame in mind, or did his dad think that he was like the trainer who was going to have his energy go kaput when he tried the fourth gym badge an eighth time?

The front door flew open, startling the two. The makings of a grass move dissipated in Treecko's hands as May walked up, stretching.

"Your dad's a great cook! I was thinking that your mom was going to be doing everything since she looks like a stay-at-home mom, but your dad broke out that pink apron and went to work! I hope that my future husband will be like that." May sighed dreamily, starry eyes unfocusing into an alternate reality. "He's going to be handsome and great at cooking. Oh! He also won't mind getting dirty so we can play sports together. They're so much fun. Since he doesn't mind getting dirty then I think that it'd also be good if he knew how to garden because gardening is a good skill that makes the house look better and I don't know how to do it. Maybe he could teach me, which would mean he'd have to be a good teacher too…"

All that took the wind out of Brendan's sails. He was further reattached to reality as her ramblings started to detach.

"They say that there's a Magikarp for every Magikarp in the sea, but I think that you're starting to describe a Gyrados instead," Brendan said.

May halted mid-rant, blinking. "Did you just finally make a joke? And it was at my expense? How dare you! I'm only going to accept the cream da cream of men. I deserve the very best, especially since I'm going to be the Champion. You understand, right? Your dad's a gym leader so you get being the best that you could possibly be. No, not even that. Being better than you could've been! Being Champion! It's not like the kids who say that they're going to be Champion and get stuck on a single gym leader. We're going straight to the top. On our own we would've merely been elite four level, but we're going to be the greatest Champion duo of all time! Is that how it works? Ah, whatever! We'll be the first!"

Brendan felt his fingers curling inwards. He was getting doubts before his journey really even started (and that image reinforced itself considering that he was spending another night at home). Not even a single minute had been spent on training. Did he even really understand what training was? No, but there was a person who did.

He couldn't say that he liked the responsibility. Yet even more than that, he hated how he was feeling.

"Let's train," Brendan said. "You said two months, right? We don't have that much time. We need to be as active as possible."

At the mention of a battle, Treecko leapt to his feet and bounded over in a few steps. His toes kicked against the ground like he was a soccer player getting ready.

They were at each other's throats seconds later. The battle wasn't as grand as those that would be had by experienced trainers as neither had much strategy past hitting the opponent. Kane watched impassively through the living room window where it would've been devilishly easy to be noticed if the people he was watching weren't the least observant dullards around. Any details past the figures were impossible to see thanks to the light difference, making him finally back off into the cozy din of artificial lighting. It was a quaint place where most of the house-y functions were kept inside of the gigantic single room on the first floor. Brendan's mom was working in the kitchen on the other side of the room while Norman laid on the couch.

Kane's skeleton did its best to leap out of his body when he realized that the man had been watching him. It was spy on spy on spy action. The intense gaze almost felt incriminating, and Kane couldn't discern if that was his guilty conscience talking or not. He decided to approach the situation as if the man didn't know about the hidden bomb in his coat.

"S'up, gov'na?" Kane asked.

The couch creaked as Norman shifted on it. The thing had been trusty back at their old home and Norman wasn't the type to leave anything behind just because. It took the television's power button falling out with smoke spilling from its opening before he reluctantly bought a new one.

"Just trying to figure you out. You're not one of those Team Rocket people running from Kanto, are you?" Norman asked.

It was hard not to break out laughing from that. "Not at all, sir. You could say that I was a witness to their ignominious fall."

"See, that's one of the problems that I'm having. I don't think my kid could explain what an 'economy' is. You're using words like that while claiming to be working for Professor Oak." Norman shook his head. "What am I even talking about? You probably have proof if you're making such an absurd claim."

The only response to such a poorly disguised question was taking out the documentation that Oak made to prove that he was acting under the professor's guidance—which also gave him the opportunity to show it off for the first time. It was a simple laminated card that had all the relevant, personal info on it while providing stuff that the professor mysteriously claimed would quell any doubts. Kane couldn't know that international professors had a system kept purposely quiet where their symbols had material built in; those symbols, unique for each professor, were glossy only when held at an angle against the light. Scanning these would prove that they were legitimate but most would be convinced just by the symbol being there, and most skeptics if it used the correct material. Very rarely did that curved pokéball in the center of a magnifying glass get scanned.

Norman spun it around before handing it back.

"So you are. Sorry for doubting you. It's not everyday that somebody from Kanto comes down here, much less somebody working for a famous professor."

"Ain't that yourself?" Kane asked cheekily.

Norman thought about that before chuckling. "I'm not working for a professor, but I see your point. You want to spread the pokédexes around? My advice would be to try and convince Roxanne to teach a class on its use. I haven't been around here long but Roxanne was the first to reach out to me and," he blew air out of his mouth before continuing, "I think that she's going to go crazy over these if I've judged her right. I wouldn't be surprised if she already knew about it and was pestering the good professor for one. No way that her whole class knows about it though, and I doubt there's more than ten pokédexes in the whole region."

He played with the device that laid on the table. The man's hands easily fit over the smaller buttons, working through the menus with pleased hums.

"Devious. Indoctrinate the kids before corrupting the adults. You're a real businessman, Norman," Kane said.

"It's statements like those that make me worry. It sounds like you three are traveling together for a bit, so please don't corrupt my kid," Norman said.

Twisted fingers slipped behind Kane's back. "I promise."

"I can see those."

"You were supposed to."

Chapter Text

The computer flickered to life. The weekly meetings of the gym leaders were counting one, two, three, five, seven. The eighth and ninth were twenty seconds late exactly. That was a tolerable time frame for Norman. Waiting for multiple minutes was beyond unprofessional when even the kids had grasped how to be on time for meetings.

'New' could not be emphasized more when referring to the Hoenn League. He had barely moved into the region when they put him to work. Norman didn't mind being immediately immersed, though he was slightly annoyed at the greater implications that came with it. Two other gyms had leaders with less than a year of experience. Whatever happened in the area led to them barely being prepared for the next surge of trainers. It made him curious but he refrained from prying in respect to his position as the new guy who was more than double the age of the psychic gym's leaders.

The first part of the meeting was going over both regional problems and problems that the specific gyms ran into. Requests for equipment or trainers, along with a new criminal group that had been sighted around the region were discussed in excruciating detail that left the younger leaders yawning. Norman could admit that even his attention drifted. Behind his computer the bare walls of his new house could only be seen by the others. Flannery was having the meeting in her room with a poster of Lisia plastered behind her, lending a comedic air when she was describing a robbery in detail underneath the idol's beaming smile. Wallace was having the meeting somewhere that had a view over the entire city, a strong wind sometimes tussling his hair. The rest had the decency to be present in the meetings somewhere professional; blank walls—that's what professional meant. Bookshelves were acceptable too, though nobody had them. A shame. Norman would have to gush about books outside of the gym leader circle.

Norman couldn't wait for the monthly meeting that required them to be in person. At least that one would require Brawly to get dressed in something other than a pair of PJs with Makuhita on them.

The second, and shorter, part of the meeting was much more informal than the first. Good battlers, pokémon, training tips, anything brought up during a time when anyone could leave if they needed to, but generally stuck around for the opportunity to let loose around people who understood the stresses of the job. Norman nodded to his wife who was at the door. The tea slid onto the table before she hurried out of the room. She still thought that the meetings were top secret no matter how many times Norman assured her they weren't.

"I've heard that somebody's kid is going through the circuit right now," Winona said, smiling at the camera.

"Really!? That's awesome!" Flannery yelled. All the enthusiasm dropped in a second. "Who?"

"It ain't mine, if that's what you're all wondering. Wahaha!"

He decided that letting the conversation develop wouldn't have been too amusing. "It's my child. Brendan is currently challenging the League, traveling alongside Professor Birch's child."

That herded everyone's attention. The child of a gym leader was usually interesting. A famous professor's child turned heads. Both being together had the potential to be region-defining. With the experience of a professor and a gym leader behind them, they were known to always do good when going through the circuit alone.

"Sounds interesting. They'd already be menaces by themselves. I can't wait for them to reach me," Wallace said. His voice was nearly drowned out by the swish and swoosh of the breeze.

"If I believe them, then the kids say that they're going to be at the end of the circuit within two months," Norman said. He cracked the first smile in the meeting at the range of shocked responses. "They're currently heading to Rustboro right now. Give them a harder fight if you could, Roxanne. I want to make sure that Brendan realizes what kind of promise he gave."

"Are you sure? I can give them the normal challenge that I usually do," Roxanne said uneasily.

"According to another kid who's traveling alongside them, they're ready to deal with you. I bet that they're relying on their type advantages, so I'd like to make sure that they're disabused of the notion that type decides a match early in their career," he said.

Flannery nervously chuckled. "Normal-type dad is scary."

"What kind of authority does this kid have over a gym leader's son and professor's daughter?" Brawly asked.

Norman's smile flattened as he thought about those shoes which didn't wipe off at their welcome mat. "I'm not sure. He's a bit of a mystery. He claims that he's not a trainer yet he's given me hints that he is one. Don't misunderstand. I don't think that he's doing it out of ill will. There's certainly an odd circumstance behind him."

The group relaxed with the clarification. The new criminal groups had everybody on edge. The activities of Team Rocket over in Kanto weren't widely known at that moment, but the hints of a criminal group that was involved across regions was enough to spark anxieties.

"How do you know he's lying?" Brawly asked.

"Three things: he was confident enough that Brendan and May, the professor's daughter, were strong enough to fight Roxanne," Norman said.

"Sounds like the typical confidence that a young child has! Is he the same age as your kid? He's probably just trying to blow them up!" Wattson said.

"That could well be the case. Many youthful trainers think they have the ability to see others' fighting styles before they've developed the ability to," Roxanne said.

Norman conceded to those points. "Perhaps. He also wasn't afraid to take roads that weren't connected to routes. I know that back in Johto it's forbidden for anyone without a pokémon to travel outside the route, though it's not illegal per se, and I believe that Kanto has the same policy. I assume that it's the same here."

"Not exactly. There're plenty of areas that are perfectly safe to go wandering outside the routes. Only northern routes are enforced against wandering and have rangers patrolling to make sure nobody leaves, but it isn't illegal," Wallace said.

Flannery waved her hand around lazily. "So he's a little confident. No reason that he's not good with pokémon without being a trainer too. Or, hey! Maybe he's just overconfident in himself. Thinks that he's invincible. That's why he also gave his opinion on their battling abilities."

"That's a worthy explanation too. If you read comments on trainer's videos, you will notice how many become experts in battling without ever interacting with pokémon outside the internet," Roxanne said.

"Oh! A bunch of people totally are like that with us! They think that they can give us tips just 'cause we're young," Liza said.

"Mm. All good explanations. He also works for Professor Oak," Norman said.

Let it never be said that he doesn't have a sense of humor. The slight shiver of his grin was suppressed as the bombshell landed. All the easy explanations withered away. Working for the most popular professor in the known world made everyone reevaluate the kid, all without even knowing what he looked like. Roxanne looked like she had stars in her eyes and Wallace had sucked his lips shut.

Flannery broke the silence. "Screw it. Looks like we're in it for the long haul. How about a few friendly bets between gym leaders?"

Wattson laughed that strange laugh that made his belly convulse. "Wahaha! You always know how to spice up these meetings, Flannery! What do you have in mind?"

"We're not supposed to be gambling as the moral centers of the region," Roxanna said tartly.

"It's also been a while since we've had one. Might as well get the new leaders used to it," Brawly said, smiling.

"Nobody has to know. 'Sides, it'll get us more invested in this. A professor's kid, a gym leader's kid, and an aide for Professor Oak all working together has prolly never happened before," Flannery easily dismissed. "Let's bet on how much time it takes Norman's kid to beat all the gym leaders and if this kid is a trainer or not. Ten thousand pokédollars for each, winner is who guesses both right, or gets it the most right. Norman's kid is gonna beat everyone, right? He's the son of a gym leader and traveling with a professor's kid. He's got it in the bag. Let's be positive and assume that'll happen. Two months and I don't think that this kid is a trainer."

"Five months and the kid is not a trainer," Winona said. "You have to think about travel time. Most of the time in a journey is spent on distractions. While they say they'll go straight through the circuit now—ah! I can imagine the regret that I would've felt if I merely stuck to the main goal."

"His name is Kane, the trainer. Two months and Kane is a trainer," Norman said.

"Even you, Norman?" Roxanne groaned.

Wallace smiled, a tiny thing that was almost mocking. "There's that love from a father, wanting to drag his son through the wringer yet believing that he'll do the best. Six months and Kane is not a trainer. I haven't met a kid who's traveling that correctly estimates their own experience. If he's confident enough to give advice, then it's because he vastly overestimates his own skill."

"That was going to be mine!" Liza whined. "Poo! Fine! Three months and Kane is a trainer! He's fishy!"

"You're complaining about stealing and then you steal from me," Tate said sourly. "Five months and Kane is a trainer."

Brawly grinned at the camera. "Y'know what? I'll be the only one to say that it'll take over a year and this Kane will not be a trainer. I'm willing to be wrong, but if all of us are wrong? I'm taking home that payday."

"Four months and Kane is a trainer," Wattson said.

Roxanne put a hand against her forehead. "You are all incorrigible—but fine! I'll be the reasonable one and say that they will take seven months, the same amount of time that it took Steven to beat his gym circuit, and that Kane is a trainer."

Flannery wrote all their names on a spreadsheet. Great blackmail material, if anyone ever got their hands on it.

In the middle of the forest there was a trio of humans waddling around what was supposed to be a day-long path that turned into a winding bin of time where hours stuffed inside of hours until night fell early. Kane double-checked the time then the map then back to his pokédex's clock. Not helping was the same-y environment that blended into a mess of green and black camouflage the later that it got, making it impossible to distinguish where they came from.

Went unsaid was that the trail had multiple routes with clearly defined names on signs staked into forks, with names cutely referencing the most common pokémon that would be found on route (most of which are no longer accurate). Fake paths had been carved by experienced hikers over the years, that hadn't gotten a name yet tangled together with the real paths without even a line sketched into the floor for posterity. By the time they had walked for thirty minutes without seeing a sign, they knew they were lost. The twilight area of existence: somewhere on a map yet without a name.

Just a single line of marker represented the many points where they could possibly be, though it was thick so that could mean they were still on path, and that's the lie that Kane kept repeating to himself. Rubbing in his stupidity was the complete lack of other people anywhere. No campers or hikers to be seen and definitely not any light or smoke from a campfire. The sky was full of stars being so far from any light pollution. As Kane believed, stars in one place were stars in another. No reason to get excited over something so static.

"We're lost," Brendan said dully.

They were on a slight incline that would've given a good view if there were a bit of light. None of the pokémon at their feet had great night vision either, bumping against their legs and tripping on roots.

"We're lost," Kane agreed.

"You admitted that pretty fast," May said.

"I'm willing to admit when I've done an oopsie, gov'na."

As usual there was a backup plan that was in effect. Around the second choice in divergent paths Kane realized that they were going to be lost, making him release Cottonee when he was supposed to be taking a pee break. It wasn't the most foolproof plan. Their line were known to be carefree, going along with the wind flow. At that moment Cottonee could've found the town and was being dragged into the ocean. They had done the very basics of training on how to fight against the wind, but he didn't expect the pokémon to be able to find them without some kind of flare.

Brendan's face was scrunched in focus, making Kane grin in anticipation.

"Do you have some kind of idea, hero?"

It took Brendan a moment to remember that was his new nickname. "Please stop calling me that, but yeah. I have an idea. I was part of the Bayleef Recruits. It taught us everything about how to survive out in nature. It was supposed to get me prepared for my journey, but I never thought I'd have to use the stuff I learned there."

"That's so cool! You know how to rough it out in the wild! I always wanted my dad to teach me stuff like that but he always made me learn boring stuff like pokémon biology," May said. Her fists pumped in anticipation to see the magic work.

But Kane recognized the way that Brendan was grimacing—it was when you promised to be able to do something but actually had no clue how to do it. Brendan looked around as if his camp master was going to pop out of the night with a torch, map, and tour guide to take them by the hand and explore the region together.

Brendan's eyes flitted to May's exuberance being caught short by shivers. Being out in the middle of the night, lost, seemed to make the night's chill a bit more bracing. He felt it too thanks to the short-sleeved vest.

He walked up to a tree. A giant eye of blue pierced down through the thin layer of leaves, arcs of light dripping down through the thick layer of dust that was in the area. It revealed the carpet of moss that covered the tree from its highest branches to the exposed roots, so thick that your hand could sink into the fluff. Dots of black peppered it too which made Brendan wonder if moss went through the same process of rot that cheese did. Whatever method he used was going to be an approximation at best as though the moss preferred one side of the tree, it had grown around its girth in a great hug.

"I think that this way is east," Brendan said, pointing away from the greatest concentration of the moss.

"Can you give us an explanation, hero? Not doubting you! Just thinking that the moss didn't have a whole silent conversation with you," Kane said.

"It's because the moss wants to grow where it's moist and dark. Since we're on an island, it'll probably grow where the wind and rain comes in from, so it'll be coming that way." He added a quick, "I think. It's called the Wingull Wind since that's what they use to cross the ocean."

"That means all we have to do is walk that way and we'll make it to the route!" May said.

"Let's not be so hasty," Kane interrupted. "Walking in the dark through a forest? That's dangerous. If we just start walking we'll be easy prey for any nocturnal predator that wants to make us its food. Let's stake camp out here tonight and then we'll just take the next path that goes down towards the ocean."

Something ugly once again crawled out of Brendan's chest into his throat. It was a burning feeling that made him want to repent. This time he didn't fight against the feeling.

"You don't think that I'm right, do you?" Brendan said.

Kane shrugged, already starting to slump against a tree. "It's not that I don't trust you, hero, just have no reason to not play it safe. If you're wrong, then at least it'll be in the daytime when we can see something we should avoid. Besides, walking off route is stupid in the first place."

"Isn't that what you did?" May asked, getting angry herself.

"This was different! At least we're still somewhere that humans have been before, meaning this place is at least somewhat safe. Walking off path is asking for trouble. I should know," Kane said. His eyes drooped closed. "Leave it for the morning. We can find somewhere where the sun is visible and see if Brendan was right."

Brendan glanced between the two of them, gaze hardening as his mind became steeled.

"No, we're not going to do that. We're the trainers here and we both know what we're talking about. Why are you even bossing us around when you're the one that got us in this mess?"

"Yeah! We're trying to fix what you did!" May agreed. Mudkip seemed to be bewildered that things even got this far, tugging at his trainer's pant legs, increasingly desperate.

When it was obvious that Kane wasn't going to open his eyes, only one path became clear. The first foot that stepped off the clear dirt crunched underneath the layers of leaves that stubbornly refused to decompose. Treecko took the charge as he was the most comfortable stepping into his stomping ground. Dead fauna mixed with moist dirt was what his feet were made for. The increasingly uncertain footsteps of the trainers followed right behind, with Mudkip feeling as if he was marching into enemy territory.

The dark seemed to close in even further. Whether it was due to them being down a person or carving their own route, they couldn't say. Bushes that once seemed so obvious now would suddenly pop into existence, Treecko doing his best to guide them through the path of least resistance normally prevailed, but he couldn't account for every branch that his taller trainers would walk into. The kids would sometimes be smacked in the face by a sudden sassy tree or accosted by leaves that would stick down their collars with firm grips.

Walking without the assurance of thousands of previous hikes seemed like a bad idea ten minutes in. They didn't even think of walking back when there was a howl in the distance, or a bug's fluttering wings that would zoom behind them. Landmarks couldn't be seen. At some point the ground flattened as they left the light incline of the area before. Even if they did want to go back, it wasn't likely that they'd find Kane. Yawns were suppressed. They didn't seem so tired when they were angrier.

A yelp from behind Brendan made him whip around, a command to Treecko at the tip of his tongue. Even with his eyes fully adjusted to the dark he couldn't see anything.

"May! Are you okay?" he yelled.

There was the sound of a struggle. "I'm fine! I just tripped into this hole."

Brendan cautiously walked forwards until a tiny hand stopped him. Calling the tiny niche dug into the ground a hole was generous. Barely deep enough to bury a time capsule, it was wide enough that May's entire body nearly fit in it with her feet kicked up slightly higher. The real problem was the numerous plants that had grown over it. May had somehow missed all the bushes that would most likely have supported her weight, and were now keeping her locked down into the ground.

"C-Can you stop staring and help?" May shouted.

Pulling all the plants aside gave her the leeway needed to pick herself up, the pokémon doing their best by pulling aside single branches. The exact details were lost, though her body fading into the background was indication in itself of how much mud clung to her body. Patting down her clothes didn't get any of it out, making her whine.

"This is why my dad told me to pack extra clothes," she said. The tone was intended to be light even if it came out strained.

He still managed to laugh. "Yeah. I've only got one pair in here 'cause my parents wouldn't let me leave without them. Never thought that we'd be doing something like this."

"Same here," she said.

Forgetting momentarily where they were, they stood around without doing anything for a moment.

"Do you hear that?" May asked.

He held his ear up to the air. Crunching. Thumping. Treecko hissed towards the treeline while Mudkip held his flippers up like a boxer. Eventually they were so persistent and loud that it'd take a deaf person to be unaware. The kids turned to where they came from—the thumps of something heavy and the crunches of tree branches being torn out. Nothing was visible for the longest time. The jackhammer continued.

Its figure was pieced together by the varying colors that it blocked. In the pure darkness, colors faded into varying shades of black and gray. Through these being overshadowed they could see an image lumbering forwards, each step causing its hulking figure sway to one side. Only when it was a breath away did they clearly see its lazy eyes and bulging belly. It was a behemoth that could step on them without even knowing it. Each muscle group on its arm had more power than the entire group's whole bodies. Instinctive fears whirred to life instead of defiance, and Treecko would kill anybody who suggested that a tear slipped out at that moment. Brendan would be too embarrassed to admit that he nearly peed.

May was the only one who moved. It came up by instinct.

The machine beeped when it downloaded the data.

"Slaking, the world's laziest pokémon. If it eats all the grass within reach, it moves to another spot."

They glanced around at the area they were standing in. With a little renovation, the clearing would be large enough for the pokémon to lay inside. They started backing up without a word. Treecko got the message and followed them. Nobody wanted to take their eyes from the hulking beast.

Mudkip didn't get the memo. Water soaked the monster's leg thoroughly. Slaking didn't even look at the pitiful stream as it backhanded the source.

The kids screamed. Mudkip's shattered body was recalled, the only stop as they ran screaming. If they actually checked then they would've seen the Slaking only cared about having the first snack of the night

Their panic didn't bother keeping track of the direction they headed in. Even the path of least resistance was forgotten as the priority became keeping as much space between them and the monster. Scratches tore on their arms and legs. Leaves got caught in May's hair while Brendan had his pants get a few tears from obstinate weapons that wouldn't get out of the way. The desperate sprint had fueled itself entirely on adrenaline and found itself lacking once those little crystals traveled into the backroads of the body. It stopped when May coughed, nearly bowling over. Both were left heaving on their knees. Brendan leaned against a tree. Clouded by fear and exhaustion, foggy eyes took stock of the situation. Treecko was keeping watch from any more aggressive pokémon. May was hacking a lung out. None of the trees in sight had moss on them, Brendan noted.

May staggered to her feet. It wasn't as if she had a better grip on the horizon than her friend as she nearly tripped on her own feet like a drunk. An unladylike drip of drool fell to the ground. Being more in-shape than urbanites didn't make them fit enough to finish a day of hiking off with a sprint, a fact driven home when Brendan fell back onto his butt after releasing the tree.

"Is—" Brendan gulped in another gasp of air before speaking again. "Is it following us?"

Treecko shook his head. He walked in a perimeter to make sure that no other pokémon were around.

"That's good," Brendan said.

May bent down to pick up the pokéball. Thick lines of sweat clung to its shiny surface.

A sob broke the atmosphere and all that Brendan wanted at that moment was to be anywhere else. Treecko agreed with his trainer, though he at least pretended that the mass of green and black was more interesting.

"I'm fine. I'm fine," she repeated. The back of her arm wiped her eyes. Another sob broke out that interrupted her sentence. "Where do—do we go now? I lost track of which way was which."

Brendan didn't know but that was fine. He would prefer admitting to being lost than dealing with a crying girl.

"I did too. Right now we should focus on finding some kind of shelter. It's not—"

Treecko peeking up into the dark made him stand at attention. Still edgy from the last encounter, May scrambled to stand behind the pokémon.

It was silent for a second. A click of a tongue. The figure stepped forwards.

"You kids look like you're having a rough go of it," the man said. He was in a hoodie, most details obscured as he refused to get too near. The horns and giant 'M' on his chest were unmistakable however, though Brendan personally thought that they looked a bit like pajamas. "Mind if I help you out?"

Brendan immediately relaxed upon seeing another person. "Thank goodness we saw you. We've been lost in the forest for hours!"

She was much less forgiving. There was something aggressive in his voice that she didn't trust, though she could admit that it was due to the paranoia riding high from the Slaking.

"Where are we? We've been walking around for a long time so I doubt we're on Route 104," Brendan continued without realizing May was creeping backwards.

The man gave an incredulous laugh. "You kids have gone a long way off track. Nobody would know you're out here."

"What's your name?" May asked. Her eyes trailed down. His hand was angled slightly so that it reached behind his back. The pose sent alarm bells in her mind.

"You're a little aways from Rustboro. Just take it down a little thataways and you'll be there. I can lead you down there if you want," the man said.

Brendan sagged in relief. At some point the stubbornness wore off enough for him to realize maybe it was a bad idea walking into the middle of a forest at night. "Yes! Yes. We will. We're coming. We're coming along."

"Maybe you should give your Treecko a rest? It's pretty safe on this side of the forest. You won't be attacked by anything out there and I'm sure he's feeling the burn from a run like that."

Though Treecko protested, he couldn't disagree. Whatever edge he had on the kids had worn away from the natural difference in leg-length. Getting into a fight at that moment would most likely lead to their loss anyways. A red arc absorbed the pokémon.

The pokéball withdrew from the man's back in an utterly predictable manner. Still, neither the kids reacted even when the Poochyena was sent out. It growled, dropping down to its front paws. There was a distinct lack of fear in the night and, if anything, the kids felt more assured that the man could protect them with such a strong pokémon. He struck a pose. His elbow raised to the air and face turned into the meanest scowl he could manage. He dropped it and smashed the pokéball into the palm of his other hand. He pointed.

He nearly threw down the pokéball in frustration.

"For the love of—I'm robbing you! Drop all your stuff!"

May dramatically jumped back onto one foot, crossing her arms around herself. "Why is there a thief this far out!? I wanted you to be nice but of course somebody with a fashion sense like yours is evil."

He pinched the jacket's clothing. "This? It's—"

"And you have such an ugly face that it looked like it got punched in by a Slaking!"

"Hey now…"

"Your voice definitely sounds like a bad guy's," Brendan joined in.

"I have a girlfriend!" he finally yelled. Poochyena had given up on being aggressive and was staring at his trainer with a tilted head.

"Not even a wife at your age?" May asked.

"We've been together for three years and she thinks that my voice is—"

Brendan held his hands over his ears as he definitely didn't want to know what adults thought of each other. The few times that he'd caught such talk in those heavy voices—blegh! Every now and then those memories would rise unbidden, triggering his gag reflex. Girls didn't have cooties. Guys and girls mixed together made cooties. It was chemistry. He was going to skip that when he went back to school.

May heard it all. It wasn't anything new to her.

The guy eventually recognized that they weren't convinced. "Whatever! Why am I justifying myself to you? Drop all your stuff real slow like in front of Poochyena. Don't even think about doing something funny."

Brendan recognized the feeling that was welling up and didn't fight against it. Defiant against being ordered around by a lowlife in the middle of a forest, like bile it worked through his throat until his entire mouth was coated in it. Ideas sprung. They weren't great ideas. They were ideas borne of desperation, a tired mind that couldn't rein in the darker side. So he held his hand out to May.

"Give me your stuff. We'll have to give it all up. There's no choice," Brendan said.

Without even a grumble, May handed over her bag. He hefted it around as if there was a lot inside. The man rubbed his palms together as they neared. The steps were softened by the dew that was gathering on the grass. Each breath was measured. All that he could muster up was gathered just an inch away from the man's fingers brushing against May's bag. His leg raising wasn't even registered as a threat in either of the villain's minds. It reminded May of the experiment that her father showed her, where the iron ball would stop just at the point of where it was let go. Instead of a cool physics demonstration, the hound's nose was punted into the air.

His pokémon was whimpering, skittering away until it was behind his trainer. The man was so shocked that he didn't immediately respond, giving Brendan the chance to turn tail. Thankfully they'd been given at least a little break or else they would've collapsed after the first second. May allowed herself to be dragged along when he grabbed her hand, disappearing into the general direction that the man said Rustboro was.

It took a crucial moment for the man to recover from his shock, another to debate whether to give chase himself or look after his pokémon, then another to actually lean down to his whimpering pup. The pokémon's fur was barely even disturbed. Its cowardly nature turned against it from the tap.

"Come on, Poochyena! We've got to go! They're going to get away!"

Green missiles erupted from the dark. The man was knocked onto his butt from the first barrage while Poochyena suffered through the entire attack. It howled in pain, ducking low to the ground, not knowing that it became easier to hit. Treecko flew from the treeline with the last bit of energy left in it. No fancy moves or maneuvers were behind the solid punch that flipped Poochyena onto its back. The man shuffled away as his fainted pokémon landed next to his feet, two kids approaching with their arms crossed.

The man beat a hand against the ground. "You're a cheat! You're not supposed to hit a pokémon! That's something only villains do!"

"Who are we talking to exactly?" May asked, exasperated. "And that's not really correct either. Aggressive pokémon are absolutely liable to be attacked, which your Poochyena would fall under since you were trying to use him against unarmed people during a robbery. The rules about attacking pokémon are already lax since there's a bunch of situations where you need to protect yourself. My dad doesn't let me work with them a lot, but the lab pokémon can easily hurt me, and there was one time when I needed to tackle a small Treecko because it was throwing moves around the lab. I felt so bad! It was so cute."

"They're also a gray area once any pokémon has been drawn explicitly for battle. During a fight nearly all injuries are absolved since there's not a great way to prove that any injury was done maliciously. Even serious injuries aren't always blamed on the other trainer and could be pinned on anybody's head. Heck, my dad once blamed a challenger for getting his pokémon hurt because the kid pushed it too far. Basically it's your word against our words that I intentionally wanted to cause your pokémon undue harm," Brendan said.

They locked eyes. That was the experience of having dads who were intimately familiar with the pokémon world talking. Some kind of camaraderie was forged.

"When you say all that to justify your actions it makes you sound like psychopaths!" the man yelled.

"Yeah, like you can say anything, buttface. Have fun out here being evil and ugly and without a pokémon," May said with a scoff.

They walked away, Treecko giving one last dismissive snort before being sucked back into the pokéball. It took many steps before either of them felt safe enough to keep up the tense silence. Finally it came, heralded by their limbs sinking down until both were slumped inwards next to each other. Walking didn't feel real, nor did all the small aches that blended into a general not-good feeling.

"I can't believe you kicked his Poochyena," she muttered. The first snort came silently, before erupting into full blown laughter. Shoulders undulating were all she could manage aside from a slight smile. "What were you thinking!?"

"I don't know! It worked, didn't it?"

"Yeah, but, but…"

She couldn't finish the sentence because she started laughing again. When it was finished, she leaned her head back all the way it could until her neck was sore.

"If our dads hear about us doing this, we're going to be in so much trouble," she said.

"So we don't tell them," he said.

"Yeah."

Her fingers dug into the dirt. He pounded a fist against his aching leg.

That ugly feeling hadn't disappeared. Deep inside his chest he could feel the scary pressure. Was he having a heart attack? What did a heart attack even feel like? Toxic, physical, and gnawing like it kept moving whenever he was almost used to it. Everything on that day seemed to want to prove him incompetent. For some reason, he didn't feel nearly as down as he normally would.

One thing he wasn't going to screw up with was the girl who was having trouble getting to her feet. He picked himself up. A hand extended.

"This night sucks. Wanna make it to Rustboro?"

No hesitation. Their hands joined.

"We haven't made enough bad decisions tonight. Let's do it!'

Bleary figures greeted him as he opened his eyes. Blue shapes gathered together in a big enough clump that he couldn't see much distinction between them. The air fluttered with light calls between birds. Rubbing away the last layer of sleep from his eyes didn't help clarify the sight. So he took his time. Yawning, scratching, stretching and pretending that there wasn't a bird perched on the branch right next to him. Thankfully they had the decency to respect his belongings. All the white splotches were spread out in a perfect circle around his personal space.

Shapes started becoming clearer with another eye rub. The random place that he chose to rest had been overrun with Taillow. A good amount had started staring at their waking comrade while others resumed doing things that a flock would do. Some would take the moment as magical, but he was immediately wary at the complete circle that they made around him. None rested on the ground, yet every branch that was around the height of his head was taken up, convenient places for plucking out an aggressive human child's hair. Another chirp right beside his ear made him realize that they'd nested on the tree that he was laying on too.

And nobody was in sight.

A distant flurry of movement made some of the birds ruffle in worry. Most had their eyes on the greater form that descended from the ceiling of leaves, its individual wings bigger than their entire wingspans. Kane supposed that the bird could lift him off a cliff if it put in enough effort. The Swellow's tail feathers stood alert, the surest sign of its health. It had no problem roosting on the ground unlike the rest of the flock. Its wicked talons dug down, wings placing themselves at its sides in a sharp movement.

Kane's hands worked down his jacket. Unknowable amounts of items had been stuffed wherever there was room. Many that hadn't yet been officially revealed and others that were for private consumption. Green gold retreated from the pocket on his right hidden breast pocket that wouldn't be seen by the layman. Unwrapping the plastic coat stripped down delicious honey-flavored oats packed together in a bar. The pokémon leaned forwards and plucked it straight out of his hand. Some of the smaller birds protested only to be shut up by a single glare.

"Alright. It's not like I was hungry or anything," Kane said. "Would you happen to know where Rustboro is?"

The bird's wing extended behind. They had actually walked further than Rustboro due to taking multiple wrong turns.

The rustling got closer. Feathers started preemptively flapping. The smallest members of the flock took to the sky while the larger ones looked to the Swellow for support. It took its time to fling its head back and swallow the bar whole. Its wings flew up in a salute before it disappeared in a single flap. Many offered similar salutes as they followed their leader. Within seconds it was as if no pokémon had ever been there, save for the few blue feathers that were quickly swept up by the breeze.

The rustling broke through the brush with its claws raised high. Kane barely leapt out of the way before the tree he was resting on got two new cuts gouged into it. The monster whipped around wildly, screeching. Kane couldn't decide if its jaw dropping to its breast was more scary than the two pairs of claws that were raised in the air.

"Holy h-e double hockey sticks!" Kane yelled, reaching for the pokéballs. None of his main team was on him, which meant that he had to rely on the few pokémon on hand—untrained babies against a raging second-evolution.

Tangela and Tynamo gave battle cries as they were called. Tynamo flopped uselessly on the ground as Tangela immediately flew by Kane's head. The rest of the pokéballs impacted, letting a black Ratata and Fomantis take form. Both threw themselves bodily out of the way as the Vigoroth closed in with its claws aimed at their throats. He jabbed those wicked blades into the ground to stop his momentum and screeched.

They really had no chance of surviving without some kind of help.

"Tynamo! Release electricity up into the sky!"

The burst of power behind him didn't halt the Vigoroth from charging with its arms poised to hug Fomantis. The difference in height worked against it as the smaller pokémon just rolled underneath his arms, swiping its blades against the vulnerable Vigoroth's back. His roar of rage was more out of shock than actual pain. It immediately turned around and leapt again. Fomantis squeaked in terror. With barely a split second to spare, he slid down on the ground to let the claws rip where his head used to be. Just before he could breathe a sigh of relief, Vigoroth leapt backwards and landed on top of the vulnerable grass-type.

Stronger, and faster. The first claws that descended had already sliced off fresh peels ready for eating.

The Rattata's charged with its head against the side of the Vigoroth only to uselessly bounce backwards. It stared in horror as its ally was ripped into little morsels. Only a red beam that withdrew the pokémon saved it from worse injuries. Rattata shook even harder as the Vigoroth now was focused on the pokémon that dared to try injuring it.

Seeds landed on its back, sticking to its fur easily. The pokémon's claws tried their best to rip them off, leaving behind tiny cuts. Tangela was waddling back, one step at a time, firing more of the leech seeds as it retreated. It didn't get the memo that it had already seeded its target; behind those vines was a haze of terror that made its wavering pupils barely comprehend what was in front of it, only a good lineage stopping it from completely shutting down.

Vigoroth wasn't a fan of those itchy seeds covering it. With two leaps, it landed on top of Tangela's head. The wild shaking didn't knock Vigoroth off, last resort vines that would've smacked into its head getting grabbed like reins. Vigoroth slammed his knee into the pokémon, landing on the ground as its prey flew into the treeline.

"Tynamo! Thunder wave!"

Sprinklings of green seeds sticking to its fur and its muscles freezing up made the fight look much more even than it actually was. The actual damage was limited to the self-inflicted red lines on its back. It swiped at the air and bellowed in rage. Rattata hunkered into the ground in fear.

Tynamo was withdrawn into the pokéball. Kane pumped his fist. "Rattata! We just need to hold out! Keep it—"

Kane rolled out of the way as the Vigoroth leapt, arms stretched high, brief paralysis giving Kane the crucial moment required to react. His shoulder took the brunt of the impact from the sloppy roll just as the Vigoroth landed. The pokémon continued asserting its dominance through screeching into the air.

"Ratata! Tackle it! Pound! Do something!" Kane yelled, finding his feet and running away. The Vigoroth tried chasing before its legs seized up and caused it to trip. Any celebration was halted as he ran full tilt, breath stolen with each pump. It felt uncomfortably close to the last time he ran for his life.

Kane's eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets when he saw Rattata keeping pace right next to him.

"What're you doing!? We need somebody to distract the Vigoroth!"

Ratata knew that the trainer wouldn't understand, but his squeaks could be roughly translated to, "I never wanted to be a battling pokémon!"

Kane pretended that he knew what the pokémon said. "Well one of us has to and I'm the squishy human! We're going—gah!"

They both flung themselves off the path into the waiting cushion of a bush as the Vigoroth charged down the path with its head held low like a battering ram and arms spread wide. It skidded to a stop, pounding the ground in frustration.

Before it could leap again, leaves descended from above like missiles. Instead of the sloppy rain that Fomantis used, these were laser guided straight into the weak spots of the pokémon's body. It screamed in pain for the first time in the fight as its knees were especially targeted. Once kneeling, the paralysis prevented it from standing back up.

Cottonee floated down from its hiding place. It gave a salute with its leaf as a wave of pink energy cut across the air. The Vigoroth was knocked off its knees into the brush, paralyzed body victim to the laws of gravity. Its frustrated screaming was the last hurrah, the last remnant of the fight the many claw marks that now peppered the path. Hikers in the coming days would recognize the destruction and would start a semi-informal meeting between the major outdoorsmen of Southern Hoenn; Norman attended the meeting to solidify himself as a community leader. They agreed to name the previously unnamed path 'Vigoroth's Gullet' and would stake signs warning travelers about the dangerous pokémon that made that place their home. Some blamed the industry that had been built further inland, scaring the normally docile pokémon. Others blamed cocksure trainers agitating the ecosystem. A conspiracy theory floated around that the hikers themselves left scraps that attracted more dangerous pokémon in the first place.

Kane extracted himself from the bush with a satisfied expression. Pretending that he wasn't turned into a constellation map made the pain a little less noticeable. "Excellent work everybody. Good work Tangela and Tynamo for giving it statuses that probably ended up saving our butts. You did your best, Fomantis. You lasted as long as you could and it gave everyone else the time to do their thing. Good job, Cottonee, on saving us before a super dramatic life-threatening moment happened. And good job Rattata on being the most useless of us all!"

The pokémon rolled its eyes as it retreated into its ball. Kane let his main pokémon rest on his head even if it would get cotton stuck into his mangy locks.

"Now let's get back to civilization. Can't believe they left me when I was sleeping, geeze."

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Snow flung. Meteors caressed the blanket that laid over the blackened tops, bereft of sunlight for around six sevenths of the year and usually slept with a layer of frigid cold besides. Splashes appeared and tiny craters were dug. The process repeated, creating a barren field pockmarked by signs of movement. Elsewhere was a wonderland. Untouched by humans or wilds, it was a range of white left as its dull self with the curtain pulled over the sky, as far as the eye allowed until the slate cut off the view. Valleys and alternate peaks ignored, it could've been assumed that the mushy white extended off into infinity, across the currents of space and lines of the planet's orbits.

Spots of fire sank downwards. Tips of the flames peeked over the soft packaging as its orange core petered to red, smothered to nothing before reaching the bottom. Meteor showers ran across swathes of the landscape as dozens of ruins created smoking impacts. Trails of smoke created skyscrapers heading towards the smogline as they became lost in the snowstorm. Slashes through the air interrupted the cityscape. For a brief second there was a bright white star that was born as thousands of icicles burned, trailing behind the main bridge of fire that swung wildly searching for its opponent. Tentacles broke off from the monster's belly in equally monstrous slopes, drizzling down onto newly revealed patches of ashy black that were charred darker from the extreme heat. The main body still twirled around itself like a drill that pierced into the heavenly brightness.

Then, from an unexpected angle, a flash. Lazy eyes wouldn't catch a thing; acclimated ones would suddenly experience a comet, a garrote wire with a metallic sheen that differentiated itself from equally pale surroundings. It came from nowhere, appearing from the horizon without a centering point to differentiate it from the empty plains. Neither could there be seen a place where the line definitively ended. Bisecting the sky one mysterious point to another was a silver point that slashed against Charizard's thick hide. One of his wings failed mid-flap, causing a splash greater than any attempted cannonball to dust fresh snow onto the previously seared places. Discipline kept the fire flowing from his mouth. Shock made him a little sloppier than he otherwise would've been however, and the wild slinging of his neck ran around himself like a sprinkler.

To sharp eyes, there was a shade of black mixed amongst the line. Red tried wiping off the sweat gathering on his palms. Letting any kind of water build onto your body in such a cold climate elevated it from annoying to dangerous. Idle brushes did little else than smear it as his whole focus was on the battlefield that was fully controlled by the wild pokémon. With the thick blizzard covering its engages and disengages, along with being acclimated to the environment where Charizard was huffing deep breaths to keep himself warm, they'd been pinned down the whole fight without looking better than amateurs. For the entire time Charizard had been relying on instinct rather than his senses—because for lazy eyes, there was hardly a flash before a new cut was opened.

It's not as if there weren't context clues: little palms on the snow opened, and every so often there'd be a small fleck of snow kicked up in his peripherals. It had to maneuver. Normally he'd then question if Lapras would've been the better choice so they could've frozen the ground—too late. Charizard was out. A speedster running laps around them simply meant that their power wasn't enough. Another docket was being compiled for faults that could be hammered out.

Another flash. Red nearly shut his eyes for how clenched they were. See past the busy landscape, the horrible brightness as the fire cast a glamor over the mountaintop, where any point could become necessary, where any chance peekaboo could turn the tables. He wasn't entirely sure what to be doing—roving about like a prey animal's glances or fixed in place like a CCTV camera. Nobody told you how to fight. There was a level where you had to trust yourself, and so he kept Charizard centered in his vision while remaining hyper aware of the streaks of fire leaving aching bruises on his eyes.

A flash. Black to black, a curve on a graph that dipped below Charizard's belly to slash underneath it.

"Charizard! On my 10, scorch the earth!"

There wasn't any hesitation or confusion. They'd worked together for too long. Newly minted snowflakes joined the flurry in the air as a gust of air created a geyser underneath his glossy wings. With a single flap, Charizard created a shadow over the earth, nearly becoming a facsimile of a dragon to Red's eyes. Quickly he created an impromptu blindfold. Leaking between the cracks of his fingers was an orange moat. Hairs stood on end as they were blow dried. The backs of his palms hurt.

Slowly pulling his fingers away let him see the clear form of his pokémon wreathed in a second pair of wings that ascended from his mouth. Firing in a clear cone in front of him at that specific height created a spread so wide that it seemed to be a static wall of fire. Seemingly the blizzard was equally scared of him, as the storm's cover that had so thickly battered against their skins lessened. He could see further as his pokémon slit the landscape, and he could see the black pokémon falling into a hasty roll, barely dodging the edges of the fire unscathed. Its strange red head dress stuck out even more than its darker body that Red wondered how it had ever hid amongst the snow. With how conspicuous its escape was, Red didn't need to shout out an order. A jerk of Charizard's neck barely scraped the pokémon's knee.

It wailed and fell to the ground. Waiting for a second left Red awkwardly shuffling. Charizard landed next to it and snorted. They'd beaten it. What had caused them an annoying five minute diversion had fallen to a single hit. Between the pokémon being naturally frail or that to be a weaker member of its species, Red chose to believe the former instead of thinking silly things like getting circles run around them by a fresh evolution.

Charizard blew out a little plume of flame from his nostrils as they walked by the shuddering body.

Walking in a seemingly random direction—no paths, natural, pokémon, nor humanmade existed up there—eventually brought them to an actual landmark in the stolid illusion. From one cardinal direction to the other, even underneath their oblong rock, was an indiscernible snowy mush. Even on clearer days when the wind didn't bite against his bare elbows, Red could forget that it was hardly a five hour walk down south to the Indigo Plateau, or Blackthorn City, or the Lake of Rage; not having a working GPS made his directions a little wobbly, but he was pretty sure, or somewhat sure, or kind of sure, one of those three, that down south was something.

Their shelter was a collection of rocks. When you'd been sludging through ankle-high snow for hours, any sort of reprieve was welcomed. A pile of wood lit by Charizard swiping its tail above it was constantly kept, protected against the wind by another rock around the length of a flatscreen television, tapered end reaching above a bus' height in a slight curl. The second rock created an overhang where the snow was mostly kept out from its innards, then a third shaped like a missile mid-launch staked as another bit of cover. Bending his head let Red fully slide beneath the motherly rock. Blastoise, laying on his belly, gave them a greeting before continuing to doze. Charizard sat on the last remaining piece of dry land. All of his pokémon couldn't be out at the same time since there was only so much space free of snow, unless Red was going to fix up the rocks towards a long-term shelter. It would be something to do. He didn't want to do that.

His hands readjusted to find the horizon where the highest fans of the flames wouldn't lick against his palms. It was some kind of entertainment. Training during the snowstorm would be uncomfortable and unreasonable for the routine that most of his pokémon needed. Searching for food and wood? Apparently his pokémon became bored of sitting around and fighting, as they would willingly leave the shelter to search for supplies that they were running low on; knowing that his traps worked felt good, not great since he didn't get the opportunity to use them for a practical reason, having fresh meat and vegetables thanks to his team. Water wasn't needed because the mountain generously gave thousands of grams every week. Building up the shelter felt superfluous when Red wanted to continue moving inwards. That was the goal: explore each sector of the mountains for cool things and determine where the strongest pokémon were. Already they had the strength to fight a legendary, so Red had started shifting the goal. Do it with five pokémon, then four, at the moment he was reasonably confident that they could beat Zapdos with three.

He barely flinched when a whip of heat ran between his fingers. Charizard let out a yawn. Blastoise smacked, tired of the taste of frigid air.

He started running out of excuses. There was a fact that couldn't be brushed off conveniently: "oh, I just need to get used to it," transitioning into, "oh, it's because we haven't found anything cool like down in Kanto," transforming when he'd found a ruins site into, "oh, it's because I haven't seen the results yet," slinging back when his pokémon started to become used to the snow into, "oh, I just need to get used to it."

It was starting to become too obvious for him to ignore.

He was getting bored.

T-Minus 1 Month and 1 Week and 4 Days

Two hands played bongos on the wide desk. It was a simple beat, still having mistakes, yet it was enough to have Lulu bob her head side to side in the chair that she commandeered for herself. His own was a simple stool that he'd dragged over.

Both of them were looking fresh compared to when they first were trudging around the region. Lulu's coat had gone back to a gem-like luster. Kane's trench coat had gone through two baths alongside him and then furiously scrubbed with a brush so he could stop feeling humiliated standing next to normal people. Looking in the mirror had made him realize that he was barely any better than the trenchcoat's beaten leather. Both had made a full morning of cleaning on one of his off days. Sitting behind him on the bathtub's ridge, Lulu's blades chopped the bundles of hair that were beyond salvation while he scraped off the birthmarks made out of dirt.

It was slightly disappointing that stepping out of the bathtub made him look even younger.

"I think I'll give this one an 'A' for effort," Kane said. He slid the paper a mile down the desk. "What do you think about it, assistant professor?"

One of the proactive students had asked if he could make an essay about the potentialities of the pokédex hitting commercial shelves, apparently since he could remember the lectures better if there was some kind of assignment. Kane had agreed out of curiosity and received it five days later. Most of it was legalistic mumbo jumbo that he couldn't parse through until the ending musings came about, summarizing most the information, suggesting that trainers were going to only become marginally better because the information that was compiled inside of the pokédex was already available, meaning that it was a problem based on effort rather than ignorance. He disagreed. Laziness could never be discounted. When information was slightly beyond a person's fingertips, they'd rather another person give it the final nudge so it could be grabbed without having to tippy-toe.

She slid the paper back over to him so he could give a clean 94% on it. The real problems were implying that a Spearow could ever beat a Rhyhorn and clear misspelling.

The door opening twenty minutes before class made Kane perk up. A familiar dress daintily walked in with the automatic hinge hissing shut behind her.

"A week passes and you're still hard at work. That's good! I was worried about you at first glance," Roxanne said. She openly stared at the feet that were propped on the desk. "Not sure if I can fix your attitude within your tenure here, but I'll try my best."

"Give it a rest," Kane said with a groan. "The students love me and I'm teaching the pokédex well enough that they're throwing essays at me. Everything that a teacher is supposed to do I'm doing. You don't think that you should be spending time on Mr. Rorty next door eating sweets during class or Mrs. Barnell taking naps on the grass?"

Roxanne didn't have to hide embarrassment. In fact, she had a superior smile like she'd just sipped the most delicious wine. "They're colleagues. It would be impolite for me to nitpick over their behavior."

"I'm a colleague too."

"A junior that I helped get hired. It's the duty of a senpai to be the guiding light for their juniors," Roxanne said.

"'Sen-pai'? 'Jun-iors'?" Kane repeated slowly, putting extra emphasis on pronouncing their second syllable wrong. "Sorry, you may as well be speaking French."

"Then plainly spoken? I see it as my duty to help the younger generations to become the greatest versions of themselves possible. I became a gym leader and teacher to further those goals. When I see you, working for such a prestigious professor at such a young age and ably teaching, I see somebody whose greatest heights still haven't been reached," Roxanne said.

Kane waved that off, though he did take his feet down from the desk. "Pah! What's 'better' than this? A better battler? A smarter person? Everybody's got their own definition of better that I'm not too interested in. Y'know what I'm interested in? Talking. Keeping Lulu's coat clean. Look at it right now!"

He held up his pokémon from her arm, letting her slightly dangle from the tight grip on her wrist. She almost looked like a retired marionette, head even rolling around as her trainer slightly shook her.

"I think the first area of improvement would be honesty, or the ability to talk straight when others are doing the same," Roxanne said.

Kane let his pokémon fall back on her feet as he relaxed again. "What's there to be honest about?"

"Well, the first thing would be what school you went to." At his curious look, she shrugged. "I asked in the dean's office and you made a joke out of it. I'd like to know. If it helps, then I actually graduated from here. It's part of why I put so much effort into maintaining the school."

Suddenly the drafts of wind became more prominent on the droplets of moisture building on his body. He uncomfortably shifted around in the seat. It felt as though the thing was jamming straight into his spine, punishing his poor posture.

"Well?" she broached.

"Is this such a big deal?" Kane asked.

Though he was reading her tone aggressive, there was a concerned curve of her brow. Maybe he would've known if his head didn't tuck inwards and point towards the ground. "I'm not sure why you're avoiding it. You're making it a big deal when you're avoiding such an innocuous question. I'm just genuinely curious, especially since you seem to not want to share."

If one waited inside that classroom as those two were, they could hear a rhythmic tapping that came from outside. Plenty of students used the campus' many rooms and resources when not being taught. These were even used for the lighter side of life, laughter occasionally trickling through the open windows near the ceiling. Past it all was a rhythmic thumping, not like a heartbeat as it was too syncopated, not like a drum because the tone was too long. It'd climb then disappear. Climb then disappear. The sound made his eyes wildly jerk around, as if the origin would be somewhere on the floor. Lulu was one more question from intervening, already half-standing up.

"If you need to know, then I was sick a lot as a kid. I went to a few schools, but I was mostly kept in bed. I've done a lot of reading myself through 'cause I didn't want to get too behind."

"Oh," Roxanne said quietly, giving a bow. "I'm sorry if that brought up any bad memories."

The beeping receded as footsteps started thumping against the walkway. It didn't take long for the first student to walk in, using her butt to open the door as her hands were full with books. The Politoed happily bounding behind was nearly reaching higher than her head with the bounds that he was using for movement.

"Hello, Professor Redgrave!" the girl greeted.

It wasn't exactly like there was a switch. His head rose, letting Roxanne glimpse the antonym of his normal diffidence, confidence in himself that got him sitting in a teacher's position. The fake accent had disappeared, no matter how badly he was trying to keep it up. From her angle the crown of sweat that peeked from beneath his bangs was overly noticeable. Glancing at Lulu showed that the pokémon was at high alert and utterly unsurprised. Roxanne didn't think that she could read the pokémon's emotions too well, but the pink eyes that locked with hers didn't seem incriminating—supportive?

She considered herself even more curious than before.

"Still ain't a professa', gov'na Lily. I'm going over the same material that I was yesterday. You sure you want to sit through that again?" Kane asked.

"Yep! I didn't get to take notes yesterday and you'll probably talk about different stuff anyways." Only when Lily set all her books down on a front desk did she turn around and wave to the other person. "Hello, assistant professor Lulu! Hello, Professor Roxanne!"

Lulu gave a wave. At some point she slipped on low-lying glasses that barely covered her eyes, leaning into her chair while she moved to watching the trees move outside.

"Hello, Lily." Roxanne briefly glanced at the Lurantis. "Looks like you're doing well for yourself if students actually recognize your name. I'm surprised."

"That I could tell such enthralling stories?"

Roxanne smiled again. "Yes. Consider me impressed."

"Ouch. You've hurt me right here in the funny bone. It's the bone that thinks I'm funny."

He pressed against the little connector thingy that was in the center of your chest. That was the funny bone, not where you got hit and you were no longer laughing. The bone in the center of your chest did a lot. It protected the organs that allowed you to breathe to laugh. It protected the organ that allowed you to feel emotions, thus allowing you to laugh. It gave support to your entire chest region, which was famously known to be the seat of where all the body's energies started. It gave expression to those strange feelings in your stomach that worked themselves up to your mouth and brain, or could rather be seen as the bridge between the two. Even so-called scientists had to admit that the nerve-y guys had to travel up from the stomach, the place where the deep belly laugh originated, up towards the brain so it could understand what to do with these feelings. And who allowed safe passage? That's why Kane had always thought the sternum was in reality the funny bone.

She walked over to the seat next to Lily. After patting down her dress and smoothing out the bottom, Roxanne lowered herself to the position of a common student.

"You're going to be in this class too, Ms. Roxanne?" Lily asked. She sounded as if she were a helium dispenser about to blow.

"Of course. I haven't heard one of his lectures for myself. I, just like the rest of you, am dealing with this new technology and would like an accredited source to be helping me with the process." She turned up to the front. The smile had its corners gently turned, the normal wildfire of passion turned down to a pleasant hearth. "Please teach us well, Professor Redgrave."

Introducing himself as Kane Redgrave for fun in one of his classes was one of the worst decisions ever.

"Please don't call me that. If you're going to stick with it, then stick with Professor Kane," he said tightly.

Students from all sorts of fields filled the rest of the seats. Because of his status as an 'extra' class, more were willing to be late than if he were an official class. Roxanne picked up on this too as she was sharply glowering at the extras walking in when he'd already begun talking. What did he care that they didn't hear the intro? The only one who genuinely annoyed him was the guy who came in when there weren't any seats, ten minutes when the lecture had already begun, before shuffling awkwardly to sit at the front of class—on the floor. Kane couldn't stop himself from staring. What the heck? Stand up! Sit at the back! Anything except being an odd hanger-on! Otherwise, no problems, surprisingly not from a celebrity being in class either. Kane supposed that having celebrities as guest speakers semi-commonly made people's skin a little thicker than most.

He felt so official. Dismissing the students ("the bell doesn't excuse you, I do," he said when there wasn't any bell) and answering after class questions had made his heart palpitate. Both legs were propped up against the teacher's desk—his desk. A teacher's desk. A litany of satisfied students. Getting the authority of someone who knows more than other people. He'd just taught students essential information that would make their lives better. It felt different than with Erika because the money was distant, intangible. It nearly felt like he was doing something out of philanthropy rather than a paycheck. Lulu got to be his cute little secretary who was pretending to be useful reading the papers with her eyes closed and softly snoring.

Did she actually know how to read? Yes. Did she learn from him? Also yes. One of his burning questions was that pokémon could obviously learn human speech, but did that translate over to learning human language as a whole? The experiment went ahead with Lulu, a Fomantis, and a wild Exeggcute that agreed to be part of the experiment. They all learned with no problems. Now that Kane thought about it, that was another step in his teaching career that he didn't even know about.

Kane tapped the teacher's pen—his pen—against his lips in thought. Roxanne walked up primly. She picked up his pants with the tips of her fingers, more for show rather than actually lifting them, and tossed them to the side. His shoes made a meaty thwap against the floor.

"So strong, Ms. Gym leader!" Kane said.

She ignored him, holding out her fingers. "Though your voice could've been projected better, and your lesson a little more cohesive, and you could've slowed down at key points so your students could catch up on their notes, that was an adequate performance for somebody who's never taught before."

"That's why my title is 'the lazy genius'!" Kane said.

"Who would give such a mundane title?" Roxanne asked.

"Myself!"

"...ignoring that, we finally pinned down a good time for your term to end: three weeks from the day that you started. That gives you twelve more days to make sure that our students are experts with the pokédex. With how filled your classes are, it is assumed that every student will have had the chance to attend within fifteen days. We added a few at the end in case some miss a lecture, if there's a sudden public interest, or if you are forced to miss a day." Roxanne pointed a finger up. It was meant to show she had a point that needed to be emphasized, though because nobody else made the gesture, it became a signature 'her' mannerism. "Now, you're free to leave your obligation if there's some kind of emergency. Since you're a guest professor, your classes are supplementary. That means even if you were to cancel at the minute before a class, we wouldn't have the ability to hold you there. Try not to abuse this. I'd like if all your classes were taught during your tenure here."

"Cross my heart and everything," Kane said, crossing his heart with his thumb.

She rolled her eyes, though Kane wasn't getting the same sense of hostility from earlier. Perhaps she valued competence above all else? He never would imply that he understood the heart of a woman.

The rest of the day, and the next morning, felt like he was floating. Teaching was surprisingly fun. It seemed that everything was going great.

Until he walked through the front gates of the school and saw Roxanne glaring.

"You didn't organize this just to spite me after yesterday, right?" she asked.

He blinked owlishly. "What?"

His wrist was seized as he started to get dragged. "Nevermind. Come along. There was a call for you."

T-Minus 1 Month and 1 Week and 3 Days

Seeing the entire island from the sky gave everything a sense of smallness. When the forests became stalks of broccoli and people unknowable underneath their own constructions, it made a sense of wonder impossible to shake off and overtake his normal emotions. Those prevented him from making fun of the girl who was fidgeting from his tight grip around her waist. She was only a year above him yet had taken time out of her lunches to come bother him. That made her the perfect person to manipulate into dropping one of their classes to give him a ride.

It really wasn't as sinister as Kane worded it in his head. The dean excused her from class to transport him to the distress call: a tiny house by a riverside. It looked as if it had been deposited in the center of the otherwise completely natural plainside, with grasses that nearly reached up to his chest of different varieties. Green, dark green, yellow-ish green all mixed together like a calico cat. There was a freeing aspect to being released from his responsibilities and letting loose where evil happened, even if there was a strange alien feeling of missing a day off teaching, bizarre enough that he tried suppressing that; there was rabble-rousing with a Lulu strapped to his hip that needed to be done.

Like the other routes, people were relaxing in the area. A duo of girls were hyping each other up over nothing. There was a boy on his hands and knees scrounging around the thinner patches of grass. A Lotad curiously squawked at him before sliding back into the water. Next to the house was a fluffy-haired woman who was visibly panicking, nearly pulling out her hair as she paced around the front door.

"Thanks for the ride, Lily!" he called back.

"Y-You too," Lily muttered before taking off into the air. The grasses flattened momentarily, revealing a pack of Zangoose who'd been surrounding the girls.

"That was my—okay. Guess classes for the rest of today are canceled," Kane muttered. The distress call had come from a place and there was only one place in the area—landline, that is.

She didn't improve any when he got nearer. Unless Kane was getting jet lag from the thirty minute flight, she seemed to be panicking even more. It took her a moment to realize that he was directly staring at her.

He saluted. "Kane reporting. Responding to an SOS."

"Oh, dear. This is the backup that they were talking about? You're just a child!"

"A child with a degree and pedigree." He extended his hand. "Kane. Merchant. Currently a teacher. Now what's this panicked message about?"

Around thirty minutes ago the principal had called him up to the office because of a message that was pleading for his help. Some 'suspicious people' had taken one of the professors in a nearby town according to the best cryptologists at the university. Decoding the garbled, "pls help kane : 0 prof gone! Get here ASAP r 114 lanetttes house. Me n bren r goin in rn," had nearly given Roxanne an aneurysm until they pulled in a more literate (illiterate?) member of the faculty. Another call came from a landline that clarified that there was a kidnapping near her house, though lacking many essential details since she'd been nearly sobbing the whole call.

The pokémon that he had for sale were with their new owners. That left Seedot, Cottonee, Lurantis, Tangela and Fomantis at his disposal. One of those was battle ready. Two definitely were not. If the distress signal was about Team Magma then he was a monotype grass trainer against fire-types. If the distress signal was about Team Aqua then he was a monotype grass trainer who'd need to sandbag so he didn't wipe them out too fast, too trainer-like.

Though semi-worrying was that he was called for help as a first choice—the non-trainer—when they were within flying distance of Roxanne, Winona, and Flannery. He was a teacher. That meant his duty was to teach them why that was foolhardy. You didn't call a janitor when your spleen exploded (though you probably still had to, he acquiesced to himself).

"Are you sure that you're strong enough to beat them!?" she screeched.

He rolled his eyes at the worry wart. A whistle caught in the area. "Oy! I saw you things! Any Zangoose want a fight?"

The Roserade and Azumarill that the girls were playing with were hugging each other tightly, nearly crying when a pokémon bigger than both of them stalked out of the grass. Past the lumbering steps was pure muscle that could cleave through steel. It got up on its hind legs when it was near, waiting for its opponent.

"Not me. There's some people nearby that are doing some bad stuff or something. Figure that you'd want a good fight. I get your help. It's a win-win! I won't catch you or nothing if you don't want to be, promise," Kane said.

The Zangoose got back on all fours and walked over to his side. That was an agreement if Kane ever saw it.

"See? We're fine. Now, where did the two goofballs run off to?"

Even if she still looked like her eyes were crinkling into themselves, she pointed down the route. "They went into Meteor Falls. Be careful! The higher levels are fine for new trainers, but sometimes stronger pokémon wander outside their territory. It's not uncommon for a Bagon to have gotten lost."

"Sure thing, lady. Thanks for the advice!"

She was reverting back to her childhood habit of chewing on her collar out of stress as Kane strode out of sight. Words slid between her gnashing teeth. "Please be safe. Please be safe. Please be safe."

Grass converted to rough rock after walking past the house. The coarse dirt that dusted over the hard bed crunched as the two speed walked. Many hikers were either taking breaks or enjoying their leisurely travel, waving at him as he passed by. Craters made the otherwise boring landscape into a bleak one, making it seem like a great battle happened long ago, or that he was staring at the exact place where the dinosaurs met their end. The slight slant upwards eventually gave him a view over the trees of the surroundings. More mountains blocked sight deeper into the island. On the left, more trees—yawn! On the right, that's right, trees. On the opposite was glimmering lines washing over the other. Cresting over the river was the ocean, blinding stalks coming from the sun hanging over it.

The pokémon grunting next to him was a curt reminder they weren't there to sightsee. He continued plodding along even if the pace was wreaking kisses of lactic acid all over his calves. Eventually the slope evened out just as they got in front of the biggest mountain in the area. A wooden sign drooped slightly to the side, reading 'Meteor Falls' right next to a coincidental 'DANGER' sign. Why were convenient holes that were just the height a human could walk through punched through mountains? What process would even erode them that way? Zangoose walked in first as Kane was inspecting the cave's entrance, forever carrying that question.

Peeking gave the picture of a natural wonderland. Walking past gave him an overwhelming presence. Everything kerchunked together. The machine felt like a whole, and Kane couldn't help shuddering. Sound bounced off the perfectly reflective walls in a beautiful display of natural acoustics. The active waterfall that was inside created a roar that could already be heard from the entrance. Something, the emptiness itself, rolled around like a gumball kicked from one end of the mouth to the other, ominously providing the brass. It all created an obnoxious monologue which overrode anything not shouted. The river spread out to the size of greater width than a two lane street, which was absurd existing underneath a mountain. Normal rivers didn't create a sense of power, danger, that this did when surrounded by jagged rocks.

Peeking over the edge made dread prickle along his skin. For one, the lack of light made it impossible to see past the veil's surface. All that he could notice were the ripples like fabric indicating a current's constant movement. The rocks at the sides were rounded in shapes so strange that it was hard to imagine they were natural, lumps sticking outside of lumps into discs with holes staring back at him. A few stalagmites rose from inside the river to further supply that imposition quality.

Perhaps the worst part was the exceedingly moist atmosphere that assaulted them the second they passed the entrance's threshold. Even Zangoose gagged as it felt like it was being dumped inside a pool. Only the sudden drop in temperature made the dampness bearable; having to wade through an enclosed space in tropical heat was analogous to being boiled alive. Zubat hanging off the ceiling looked entirely unbothered, though he was unsure how their echolocation could work under such conditions.

Overwhelming stimuli nearly distracted him from the actors that had gathered on the bridge. The scene was perfectly dramatic: a basic bridge over an active flow led to a pillar of rock that everybody was gathered on. People in stupid costumes surrounded the two kids.

Everything came together to give him ideas. The river in the cave, however it worked through the thousand year process, had sanded down most of the rocks into domed surfaces that were unsteady to walk on. This worked with the higher pathways too, though not nearly as dramatically as those next to the rapids. Zangoose stumbled more than he did, claws sliding down without great friction against the ground. It was an entirely different floor just outside the cave's threshold. Many ideas were coming together. Devious ones.

Lulu yawned when she came out. Zangoose bristled at the new pokémon before calming down when Lane pointed at the group.

"We're going to take the attention of the guys in red. Zangoose? I don't know what you know, so focus on the pokémon that Lulu isn't attacking. Just let her do her thing. Lulu? Follow my orders to the dot. Don't look confused or hesitate or else our chance will leave. Now let's go before they notice us."

They both fell into step when Kane took point. Walking over the bridge peppered them with flakes of water. Thanks to the tense situation and overwhelming noise, it was easy to sneak into a position where the Magma grunts wouldn't expect a sneak attack. Just his luck that the adults were sharp enough to realize that the kids glancing towards the bridge could be a problem. Apparently the stupid outfits didn't translate into stupid minds.

They were close enough to fight when everybody realized there was a fourth group. All different colors stood in a square standoff with each other. The roar of the waterfall drowned out the quiet breathing of everyone as they waited for the first move. Two people in red, two people in blue, two kids guarding a scientist standing precariously near the edge of the pillar, and a kid with his two pokémon already out.

"Another kid? Did the sign outside call this a playground?" the woman dressed in blue said.

Across from her, the fat man wearing a red hoodie threw his head back and laughed. "Then that sign would be right on the mark! Go home, aqua children, and leave the work to the adults!"

"You're in the playground too, mister. Does that mean you're a child like us or a creep skulking around children?" Kane asked.

"Kane! These guys are bad guys!" Brendan yelled.

There was a fat man wearing red, dismissively scoffing when he finished scoping out the competition. "I'd rather not waste my time trying to convince people that wouldn't understand why Team Magma's goals are for the good of mankind. We're trying to deal with the gutter rats over there, so it'd be appreciated if you kids scurry back to your mamas."

"Nobody can understand because only criminals think like you do!" the woman yelled back.

"How dare you! Our leader's goals are for the betterment of humankind!" the grunt wearing a red hoodie yelled back.

"...they're gonna be at it all day if we don't intervene. Are all evil teams like this? I guess you have to be that kind of guy to join an 'evil' team." Kane's eye started twitching as the banter continued uninterrupted. It was so juvenile, uncreative, and about everything bad he could call it. "Oy! Get your pokémon out so I can deal with 'em!"

His pokémon ran in front of him. The man's grin turned sinister as his pokéball unhooked.

"Didn't you hear? This ain't a playground! If you play with adults too much then you're going to get burned! Tell the police that it was Tabitha who sent you running to your mommy!"

Tabitha struck a pose with one elbow sticking out into the air and the other hand angled downwards with the pokéball in hand. The nondescript woman that he was with did the same pose mirrored. Flashes blinked in his peripherals as Brendan started fighting against the Team Aqua grunts.

"You guys are so lame, know that?" Kane said.

The pokéballs flew out without an answer. Sleek black fur took shape into a dog, growling as its snout was held high. Right next to it a purple ball puffing out smoke from the pores all around its body floated slightly above the ground with a dopey grin. Immediately it was put on the defensive as an impatient Zangoose leapt into the air with its claws raised wide. Gas blew out of certain pores to propel itself away from the relentless attacks, slowly making the area smell like a sulfur leak.

On the other end were two pokémon circling around each other, waiting for orders from their masters. Kane waited as they shuffled. One nipped at the air. The other lightly swung its blades around. Tabitha coughed. Mightyena had the blue guys behind him, the other battle, Zangoose got in the way, then him. It was a simple reason why Tabitha didn't escalate the battle: their opponents were between a small pokémon that looked pre-evolution and one that was only following feral swipe with feral swipe, easily dodged by the Koffing. Behind them was a fight between stronger pokémon they'd have to deal with after the current fight, both sides wearing themselves down.

Kane ruefully shook his head, letting a smirk take over. Once again proof that Kanto was full of idiots. Both were teams who followed kooky ideas yet those were influenced by real thinking—real thought was put into these insane plans! Everyone who joined Team Rocket had done so for the same reason that anyone joined a gang, whereas these were the insane people that had real know-how. Expecting them to be anywhere near the grunts that he'd fought back in Kanto felt offensive.

All that said, he still wasn't expecting much.

"Tackle, Lulu! Put your all into it!" Kane said with conviction.

Her whole body was put into a sudden leap. Mightyena didn't need guidance on the dodge, letting her run past him and skid to a stop next to the edge. The bumpy ground forced her to kneel when she whipped around too fast.

"Bite her!" Tabitha yelled.

It was the perfect plan. Even with a foreign pokémon, using tackle just made you look weak. It was a beginner move on a pokémon that was obviously not a normal-type. That gave the impression that Lulu was weak, which was the correct assumption when dealing with a kid like himself.

As already said, he wasn't expecting much.

"Knock it off the platform with Superpower!"

It turned around so fast that Tabitha had no time to control his expression of horror. "Stop!"

Stopping brought Mightyena to the same problem that Lulu had. Even with his claws digging into the ground, the Mightyena yelped as it got much closer to the edge than it would've liked. Those extra seconds of trying to find purchase gave Lulu the chance to carefully slip behind him. Her claw winded up and flew. Super effective, on an unstable target, and right on the butt. All of that added up into a physic's defying blow that sent the Mightyena flipping. The dog continuously yelped as it did its gymnastics routine, arcing through the air straight over the stalagmites, before bouncing on the ground far below them.

Pleased that she'd managed to angle the hit so that it didn't fall into the water, she rubbed her blades against each other. They made a sound like a knife rubbing against a whetstone. Without another order she dashed towards the Wheezing. The purple ball was obviously panicking as it started ignoring its trainers commands, blowing as much gas as possible to escape the two pokémon chasing him. Visible purple clouds coated half the arena as his desperate dodging expelled more gas than necessary. The high had made Kane a little less observant to the puffy red cheeks, the eyes full of hate of his opponent who reached for his next weapon.

"Numel!" Tabitha yelled without his pokéball having fully opened yet. "Flame Burst into the Koffing!"

"Sir!?"

"You crazy—"

"Get down!"

Other similar warnings were drowned out by the blast. Comparing it to the waterfall was foolish; there was nothing that could drown out the all-encompassing noise made by an explosion. An explosion was the demolition of reality itself. Those caught in it ceased to exist; those outside were momentarily stunned out of what was real. Loud, so loud that for a second all that Kane could think about was the sudden lack of feeling in his head. The pokémon that were near it survived much better just because of their hardier physiology, but the humans had to contend with a shuddering world. Their balance was shot. Kane's legs wobbled like jelly until he realized that his body was moving without any prompting.

The slick surface of the cave had worked against him. With the feeling of standing's vertigo, he numbly realized that the ceiling was getting further away. His hands feebly swiped in front of him towards handholds that didn't exist. His back smashed against something that eagerly punched back yet enveloped him whole. A weight pushed down against his chest as the world turned dark.

Chapter Text

Reality didn't come in with a snap, nor faded back in, as that would imply he was conscious enough to distinguish between everyday blackness and waking. It only happened that at some point, he realized that a severe amount of pain had overtaken his senses. Every molecule of water seemed to be carving a knife through the ridges of skin he didn't know existed previously. Multiple muscles that he didn't even know the name for were undulating from the splash. His eyes were burning from being kept open underwater.

Most importantly, he recognized the burning. An animal in his head thrashed. Something was moving and he wasn't the one doing it. Recognition came in stages, completely unordered: after the pain was an itch underneath his tailbone, then the uncomfortable feeling of water budging down his ears, to his body moving without prompting. Finally control came with his fingers clenching down into his palm.

Jolting his head above the current took an agonizing flex, but he was able to wrest it from the heavy hand that had been grappling him, vindictively scooping in one last cup of water before letting him breathe. His chest had been converted into a waterskin. As he floated down deeper into the cave, he alternated between trying to replace all the air that he missed out on and coughing out the pin pricks. Sliding around in sudden movements yanked his awareness. He recognized that every second was a fight to keep conscious.

The pull blanked out the cave. The next waking moment, there was a feeling that was choking out whatever air that managed to slide down the ocean that he'd swallowed. Sloshing made him recognize that his neck wasn't working right. One way to the other it was pulled along from something that wrapped around his neck. Waving his hands around didn't produce enough force to raise from the water.

He recognized the energy leaving as his legs, previously kicking, slowed down like a propeller that had been turned off. His chest decompressed. Everything dulled—emotions, color. Floating above the water was keeping him up but he didn't think that any salvation would be in himself. The lights on the paths became subdued as the ceiling, chiseled as a stormy ocean's frothy wake, became dimmer. Worse still was the awful familiarity; time ceased to exist as he was trapped in a reincarnating loop of bitter nostalgia. Caresses against his cheek felt like a soft farewell.

Another pull reminded his trachea that it regretted existing. Soft chittering came from behind. The recognition brought back details. The skin that pressed against his neck. The shallowest necks of the river rubbing against his heel. Suddenly everything became brighter.

The scythe that carved into his clothes hooked into the back like a clothespin. Though her strength could contest body builders during her good days, it was hardly enough to awkwardly drag around a weight that quickly sank into itself. She didn't have the supernatural strength to guide them back to the nearest shore. All that she could manage was keeping them afloat.

Saving another person that he was quite fond of (because no matter what, there was a faith she was no less than an equal) unlocked the last bit of energy that was still stored in the back room of his body. Another bout of flailing fought against the aggressive current. Blindly he guided the boat, too tired to spin around. Generally they moved into a direction, until the muscle hanging onto his shirt turned taut. They anchored on a stalagmite that poked above the dark fabric. Her claw fiercely stabbed into the rock. A yank, and they were still. Not long from the shore, she pushed off, the momentum carrying them towards a rocky quilt that substituted for a sandy beach. Crevices like the pit of an apricot ran along the edge—thousands of years cleaved over as she deeply dug inside.

From there though was unknown to her. She didn't have the strength to pull him up and he didn't have the strength to pull himself up. That's what she believed before his hand stretched out. His fingers slid around until they found dry rock. With a deep breath preparing for the pain, he pushed against the rock and felt sparks dancing around his brain. Gasping sloshed the water still stuck down his throat. After resting his head for a moment, he hoisted them up. It was somehow colder than the water.

The few weak sputters that reignited the hearth lit in his chest made him lean back and forth like a turtle. He eventually had enough momentum to hike himself onto his shoulder. Gravity carried his leaning weight the rest of the path. Slightly burrowing his knees and elbows into the rock brought him to an arch, and his lungs took that as permission to turn inside out. Lulu gently patted his back as he coughed out everything that had snaked down into his airways. While the pain took its time to subside, he glanced around at the new situation that they'd gotten themselves into: black. It was all black. Even the deceptively stolid water was barely louder than a leaky tap and seemed just as solid as the rock; their brief excursion may have exceeded the average decibels that violated the cave's innards over an entire week. The pokédex fumbled out of his pocket, clattering against the hard surface. It took a little shaking before it started booting up.

Blinding white enveloped his face and cleaned some of the cavern's murkiness. The river they'd been following led into a sump, which made him even more grateful that Lulu got lost alongside him. Any later and he would've been dragged beneath the rapids. The first steps up were staggered, each twist of his sole obviously his balance recentering as his wobbling vision tried centering on a horizon. One of his hands reluctantly pulled away from a wall that he'd used to brace himself to cup around his mouth.

"HEY! I LIVED! YOU BETTER BE GONE BY THE TIME I GET BACK OR YOUR JACKET WON'T BE THE ONLY THING THAT'S RED!" Kane whooped, coughed, jumped around, circled around Lulu, who was holding a blade over her eyes in embarrassment. One cough led to him sucking in more saliva, starting a whole coughing fit.

He fell down on his butt. The pain that lanced through his body actually created a whirlwind of spots that cycled around his whole vision. Dizzy, he closed his eyes until the world started making sense again. Yellow and purple textures swimming behind his eyelids gave a vague topography of the riverbed, a place of millenia-old scars hidden beneath a deadly current that created new tragedies. The sum of his spelunking skills (none) worked together to determine that screaming wasn't the smartest thing to do in hindsight since it told every Zubat where he was standing—so he ignored that he did that. Didn't happen. Nothing happened and anybody who heard a voice was the crazy one.

Fight left through lukewarm droplets that ran down from his lips to his butt. Bloody taste tests pooled around his teeth. It was another reminder. Eyes clenched shut, wondering if the world was mocking him. Again the sensation of another person there with him reminded there was a mountain, there was a floor, there were the cuts on his skin and his blood in the river, there were the people around him and the thing that resided in himself, there was radiance which couldn't fool even the most incredulous critic—"sacre bleu, this place came out half-cooked! The gooey flesh and crusty skin comes apart from the lightest prodding of my fork. Audiences would find sniffing their seat to provide a more palatable experience. It's raw! Send it back to the butcher, chop it up and then get a priest for its last rites because this meat has been wasted!" they'd say, which made him laugh as he thought about it.

"Lulu. Did you get knocked down too?" A thumb reached up to feel her head shaking. "You jumped?"

Without finishing the nod, lips pressed against the back of her head. If he had more energy then she would've spun around. If he had more energy then he would've spoken louder. Calming down made the pain fade into the background. Resting made his knees shake. Everything shook. Coldness took hold as a reminder there was still yet more strength to lose.

"Don't you understand? There's nothing there. If I opened my eyes there'd be an illusion of a mountain and an illusion of the cold. Your cute little head isn't the horizon, nor is my nose; my eyes aren't the horizon either, as absurd as that sounds." His lips pressed against the back of her head again, though she was much less thrilled this time. "Every rock was avoided when I fell, and we had escaped the second that the river would've swallowed me whole. I would've died instantly otherwise, you know. I want—I don't know what I want. But it's fine. I'll learn. Maybe I'll—I don't know, make friends with Anabel; I always thought she looked cool. Maybe Red will come back and forgive me. No, he'd apologize for freaking out over things that weren't that serious. I-I don't know anything about that kind of thing, but maybe she'll—you think that she'll eventually—she'd have to take the lead but since my own mistakes don't matter? They're not mistakes then…"

He grew too embarrassed to continue. Maybe it was his own reluctance to admit it out loud or maybe it was the eyes that peered over her shoulder. They were worried, and he couldn't help but plant another kiss at the center of her forehead. She was worried because she would leap over a cliff to save him. From the beginning to the end, Kane truly believed that she was his little pink guardian angel.

Light snaps from the cavern soothed him back into action. Eventually he hobbled onto his legs with a worried Lulu herding him with her blades when he tried standing at the river's edge. An adult would've been forced to bend down to climb around with the ceiling being so low. As it was, the very tip of Kane's head bumped against the tiny stalactite teeth. Mounds of silt made the cramped conditions even worse.

The rest of the cavern wasn't all that interesting compared to the well-traveled parts. There were multiple branches, little valleys carved into the ground that used to have tiny rivers themselves that declined at an almost vertical angle. The walls were so tight in some that he would've fit like a puzzle piece in them; in Kane's opinion, that was the most terrifying thing in the world and he'd never be convinced to climb down one of those. Pillars narrowed and widened around the river, working in tandem with the aforementioned silt mounds to make traveling back upstream a difficult process. Straying from the river didn't seem to be a great idea either as his pokédex gave a good view of his shoes and not much further.

Walking by the river kept making him nearly slip, each time getting saved by Lulu. After checking himself over with the pokédex out of curiosity, he considered himself pretty lucky considering that he'd been probably a yay bit off from splattering. The worst feelings were in his lungs (no duh) and his ankle, which felt like it was slightly off kilter. Everything else remained a body-shaped bruising that would fade with time that he wished would fast-forward. Somehow worse than himself was his clothes that had been shredded by some combination of sharp rocks and Lulu's claws. The trenchcoat was a goner, as were the remaining maps that he hadn't sold yet. Double-checking the pockets made him sigh in relief when he felt the familiar bumps of his merchandise still there.

At some point the walls actually did close fully around the river so that he had to sidle past them. The walls closed around the river so that going past it was physically impossible. Thankfully it was barely the thickness of a normal dividing wall that served to individuate rooms. He knew that it was easy. The worst that could happen was slipping and falling back into the river. With his body shuddering from the pain and cold, he assumed that would just instantly kill him, so basically the worst thing that could happen is that he instantly dies; not too bad.

It took a second to hype himself up before walking forwards. Both palms brushed against the surface. Harsh, slightly grainy like the fake handholds in a rock climbing place. Shining the light on the other side showed that there were indeed things on the other side. A flashlight mode, he noted to himself, would be mentioned as a suggestion.

"Grab my leg," he said. Lulu complied, holding onto his foreleg and crouching low.

He hugged the wall, chest pressing against the bumpiest part of it. Awkwardly his leg looked around. It was a game of surgery, bumping his poor toe against slick surfaces until it finally found purchase. Putting pressure down made it stick. His other hand started searching around for somewhere to grab onto.

Something flew out of the water and smacked against his leg before splashing back down. He curiously looked down as if he could see through the dark marble. Dismissing it, he went back to straddling the rock.

Another thing smacked his back. Lurantis made distressed noises, almost sounding pleading. Kane tried ignoring it because that usually worked with things that were uncomfortable. Finally he found a place where three fingers (the center ones, the center of power) could latch onto. It felt like grooves were purposely shaped to yank on a hidden lever.

It smacked against the back of his head, forcing him forwards against the wall he was lovingly holding. It sounded like stepping on a snail. Blood trickled into the water as just another ache joined in with the symphony.

"...okay," Kane said slowly, somewhat nasally, unwrapping himself from the wall and backing away from shore. Something warm was running down his lips.

Furious at her trainer's injury, Lulu swiped her claws into the water. One splashed first, nearly reaching the ceiling. Another showed up its brother by smashing into the ceiling. Then an entire school turned the cave momentarily orange. Their combined weight upended what must've been enough water to coat a field, soaking the two of them just as they were getting dry. One landed next to his feet, flapping about uselessly. A Magikarp.

"...okay," Kane said. He kicked the fish back into the water and looked to Lulu. "So remember those people that I just screamed a threat to? Think they're gone now? 'Cause it'd look really pathetic if I was screaming for help after being all cool and stuff."

All the Magikarp in the river jumped again. Many of them bumped against each other. They collided with the rocks. A few landed on the shore. Most of the image was unknowable to the two as they relied on the pokédex's light to reveal just a scant portion of the river. Lulu could tell that an army marched from the blast beats of their bodies drumming against the water. The splash zone was indiscriminate. All over them, the pokédex (waterproof! he'd promised when selling it, and the device loyally continued running), and the already moist rocks surrounding the river got another healthy smattering of water. If the wall they needed to get around wasn't soaked before, it was now, and he wasn't about to try climbing around it. Lurantis shook her entire body like a dog while the human just sighed in resignation.

"It's not often that people are this deep within the mountain. I assume that it's not entirely willing that you've found yourselves here."

Both of them jumped from the sudden voice and spun around. A lady was hunched so far that she had lost a few inches of her height. Garbed in a white robe, the sputtering light of the pokédex gave her an ethereal quality compared to the layers of dust and dirty water that surrounded them.

Kane stuck a pinkie in his ear to dig out whatever was blocking his hearing. "Heh?"

"The explosion has made the dragons restless." The woman walked to the water's edge. A cane hanging by a leather strap was unstrung, its tip poking into the river. "Your screaming hasn't done it any favors. Fortunately for you, I'm here. They won't attack you as long as I do not permit it."

"You need to stop talking so quietly," Kane yelled.

The woman glanced down at his pokémon before nodding. With a snap, a shade popped out from behind her. Neither of the two had time to react before a powerful limb picked them up. Coarse scales rubbed roughly on Kane's raw skin. He could feel the pokémon's grip tightening as they spun down the tunnel.

To avoid anybody from colliding at mach one and creating the world's first underground crater, they had to spin around to avoid all the intersections where they'd be turned into fish food. Kane felt his stomach wobbling as they did an unnecessary 360 to avoid a small outcropping rock. Wind battered against his face and g-forces battled against his extraneous parts that weren't clamped down by the chubby limb. Lulu wasn't much better, though at least she was much smaller to avoid her organs feeling like they were spaghettifying. Smacking her blades against the orange skin did nothing. By the end of their flight, her pride was the thing that ached the most.

No ceremony was prepared when both of them were dropped. They skidded on a soft patch of dirt that was exposed to sunlight. Lulu picked herself up and spun around, trying to catch a glance at their ride, only to see a hint of orange diluted into the cave's dusk. She huffed in irritation, trying to ignore her trainer barfing next to the exit.

Kane unsteadily raised up, deep breaths making his throat convulse in sympathy for his flooded nostrils.

"Does the school give insurance you think?" he asked, then thought about it. "Erika?" He thought better. "Oak?"

Another round of puke made Lurantis once again turn her attention away.

Feet kicked against the desk lightly. He bobbed to an invisible beat in his head. Sitting down next to the receptionist's fortress allowed him to be more of a pill than he'd normally have the opportunity to do. Lulu ignored the faux pas as she was much too focused on the petaya berry held gently between both scythes. Delicious bitterness flowed through her tongue much stronger than the most burnt coffee.

Finally, as a reprieve, the receptionist said, "your call should be ready over in booth 4."

"Thanks!" Kane said, walking over to the booth.

The world just wasn't on the level of technology that he was spoiled with. Paying a toll to connect with systems barely present in Kanto felt horrible. Initially he'd been expecting that it would be a literal rotary phone provided, but rejoice! A full system without the wall of plugs and levers thumb-shaped, sticking out giving you the hardest choice of your life: to casually flick or to delicately hold between two fingers and pull; and the lady herself didn't have the poofy hair with a dress that ended in a flowing, modesty-preserving lampshade or a tighter tube that he thought clenched the lady's legs too tightly. The woman instead wore a blouse and skirt made of the same material, blues so pastel that they belonged in a children's cartoon subtly tracing out waves from a traditional Japanese painting across her body.

Looking closer would give a person smarter than him a migraine, he decided. There he was in an international call center with monitors that seemed decades ahead of the dinky LED screens that he remembered, a girl dressed in clothing modern decades ago that evoked a past that may have not been so distant from these people. Voila! There it was, a mostly sound-proof line of cute, pink cubicles that looked like bathroom stalls. He was short enough that feet poked out from beneath the other doors. His own tiny ones shuffled past the number 4 and shut the door behind him.

"Good thing that we have something a little more classy, eh? I was thinking that we'd be talking into a stone. Hehe! I'm glad!"

She didn't answer. Each bite of the berry sent her to another world.

Thankfully the initial impression that most of the injuries were superficial was correct. First was the sting of the vomit that faded with a good R&R session with the same river that tried to devour him; then at some point he realized that the muted world was slowly returning sound, which was the best news of the day; and finally the nosebleed clotted which meant that it was a simple injury rather than being a fracture, probably. He didn't have the money nor time to wait around for a surgery. He felt like a voodoo doll with stitches running across his entire body like webbing, barely being held together by the stakes that were being driven through his heart. Of course he had to repeatedly reassure people who thought that Frankenstein was visiting out of season that he was fine, which only worked after he bought another thrifted trenchcoat to replace his old tattered one.

When he sat down on the comfortable stool (yet kept at that uncanny region of just-uncomfortable-enough where it still felt like hell had opened to poke at his butt with pitchforks), shapes were already being transmitted. The monitor in front of him was large enough that he could soak in more details than normal on Professor Oak's grainy camera, which made Kane want to applaud the scientist. True admiration came easy when the man had surpassed aspects which most wouldn't comprehend.

"Lane! Are you okay!?"

The various sources of pain receding didn't mean they looked any better. A shiny purple patchwork of what was supposed to be skin wrapped around his head. The nose was especially bad, making Kane feel as though he wouldn't be able to fit it through a motorcycle helmet with how ballooned it was.

"Lane? Oh, right! Lane. Yeah, Lane is okay. Just got on the wrong end of a scuffle. You should see the other guys, though. Sent them packing," Lane said.

It was also heartening to see how much things didn't change with certain people—the older, he'd say if so inclined, though didn't have the capability to scorn the scientists and authors whose jobs were to tread new ground—as the exact same collection of books lining his shelves and same junior scientists who want to seem busy by acting busy were scurrying in the lab.

"You're sure? I wouldn't blame you if you wanted to go home," Oak said.

"Definitely not. I've got a pretty good thing going here. All sorts have seen the pokédex. For example, has the dean called you?"

Oak put aside his reservations, enthusiasm taking over. "She has! Lane, I'm not sure how you've done it, but I've already got orders coming in from all over Hoenn! It started with the school, then private businesses, and now we've got orders coming from Mossdeep! We can successfully call this endeavor fulfilled. The League has already contacted me on how we can distribute these to every new trainer."

Lane gave a sly wink. "Just what happens when you snag a deal with one of the most influential places in the entire region. I've gotten the ear of their celebrities and businessmen."

"You've succeeded beyond what we've expected of you. If there's a favor that we can fulfill then just say the word and I'll endeavor to see it done." Oak gained a pensive look, taking a moment to glance off the screen before staring straight into Lane's eyes. "To make this abundantly clear, I'll have to make it clear that this is in no way a permanent arrangement. Since you've been involved in some way with the project, I also believe that it's only fair if you hear about this: we are not going to patent the pokédex."

"Patent," Lane repeated, tasting the word. It tasted familiar, like money.

"Yes." Recognizing the confusion, Oak said, "patenting is a process where we'd claim the pokédex as our own invention so that we can make royalties, money, from any other person who uses our idea. The pokédex will be an invention for the entirety of mankind to improve rather than only incentivizing the original developers to improve on its design."

"Ah," Lane said. "Why?"

Oak's smile got wider. "I'm not nearly vain enough to think that it's going to be the final design. Concurrent companies, governments, and teams will find ways to jump over the hurdles that we had during the development. We have already succeeded with our goal: to create a device that will better enable the laymen and to further encourage those who already consider themselves masters to continue learning."

Lane hit a fist into his palm. "Okay, I get it. You're saying that you wanted the pokédex to be spread around out 'cause it would be better for humanity rather than trying to advertise a product. I get it, I think."

"Precisely so."

"Which is why you don't need me as a permanent advertiser for other regions and niche businesses and stuff. I was only meant to spread it around until the League itself would take notice. Since that's been done, most likely other regions are going to follow suit. Kanto setting precedent is one thing, but Hoenn, an island that's far out from the home of the pokédex, adopting it shows that there's something legit about it," Lane continued.

"Brilliantly deduced. Yes, that is correct," Oak praised.

Though he was a little conflicted on the inside. Sure, he was currently working three different jobs that were all giving him a little bit of payment so losing a single one wasn't the end of the world, but that's not what it felt like to the boy who barely was making enough money to break even from the trip. The life of a trainer: to barely be hanging by a thread between 'trainer' and 'homeless person with a pokémon'.

"Then to reiterate, you are to still work on spreading the pokédex as far as you can. Send anybody interested in acquiring their own to me. You still have a month before our contract runs out, but considering how good you've been doing, I'd consider giving you a bonus when you come back." Oak pretended that he didn't see the fist pump that was supposed to be underneath the camera. "Now that we've finished with business, is there anything else? Don't hold back. I'd love to hear about your trip!"

"Later, maybe. I've got to make another call after this. A few things before I go though: I was wondering if you could get me in contact with somebody who sells pokémon from other regions. Doesn't matter if they're a traveling merchant or somebody who ships them out. I've got a few requests for pokémon that I need to get before going back to Kanto. No trouble if you can't. I'm just fishing around. I'm sure that someone like Roxanne or Norman knows somebody if you don't," Lane said.

"Which pokémon are you looking for?"

He pulled out a notebook from one of his inner pockets. All the notes from his previous one were destroyed by the river, which made that whole debacle rankle against his nerves more than it already did. Rewriting everything down took the better part of the morning since he forgot a lot of the stuff inside. After the smoking pencil was lifted, he still missed out on many details that were the reason he committed the thoughts to written word in the first place.

"Scrafty, Ferrothorn, a male Salandit, Fennekin, Fomantis, Druddigon, Reshiram, Comfey, Darmanitan, Stakataka, Alolan Raichu, two Lapras, and a healing pokémon." Lane looked into the camera. "I can also give you a list of people that these are for if you want."

"I trust that they're of the decent sort, but I wouldn't mind listening," Oak said.

"Scrafty is for Kiyo so he can put up a fight against Sabrina, Ferrothron is for Erika, Salandit is a joke gift to Koga 'cause I'll tell him that it can evolve when it can't, then Fennekin is for Blaine, Fomantis for Green 'cause I don't want to give her a Fomantis that I bred since she's weird, Druddigon as a bribe for Lance, Reshiram for the funny, Comfey for Erika because it'll be funny when she finds out it's not a grass-type, Darmanitan as a joke for Red 'cause he's totally like a Darmanitan, Stakataka for general chaos, Alolan Raichu for you, two Lapras so I can breed them, and a healing pokémon for," Lane pointed to his face, "since I think that this will be a common occurrence."

"I haven't even heard of most of those pokémon! You're in luck, however. Professor Birch's current research prioritizes a few pokémon that're out of region, which makes him well-connected with traders of that like. I'll have a message for you in the near future after a long chat! We haven't had the opportunity for a long while!" Oak laughed at his own joke. "You said there was something else?"

"Please include a flashlight mode with the next iteration. I'm not going to explain why."

Oak nodded, understanding. "Alright then. I'll send a message over to the school when it's ready. Don't hold out on me forever, Lane! I'd love to hear how you managed to get a position as a teacher."

"Yeah, yeah. Then if you'll excuse me, I need to make another call."

"By all means! Thanks again for all your help, Lane."

After a few more parting words, the screen turned black. It reflected the sign that he didn't even read when first entering, a proto-guide to proper netiquette. You're still speaking to the person, don't get too close to the camera, and other things not immediately known to people who just invented the portable video call.

He poked his head out the stall to update the call. It took a bit before the black screen got a spinning pokéball, reading 'CONNECTING' above it. Listening closely made him able to hear the phone calls of the people next to him. One was talking to a doctor about his Jigglypuff's inflation problem. The man on the other side was laughing at a bad joke told by a girl. The complete invasion of privacy was another reason that the future had been invented: having to do things without the invention of the roof motivated people into creating abundant housing, having to eat with others created the fast food which could be scarfed down in whatever atmosphere you found to your liking, and Lane was getting annoyed that the laughter next door was so smarmy, so high-pitched, that he was craving for everyone to have cell phones already.

The screen flicked to a beige room that was obnoxiously bright thanks to the lights being turned on during the daytime. A woman wearing those glasses with the pointed ends squinted into the screen slightly, a permanent crooked bent to her neck. The suit that she wore was crisp and official.

"Celadon League offices. Who's calling?" she asked. She was focused on her other screen, continuing typing even as she spoke.

"Lane Rand. I called earlier this week to set up a meeting." He checked the clock that silently moved above the computer. "Not exactly on time, but I was taking care of my own end."

The woman squinted back at the screen, taking in all his injuries, without stopping the typing. "Hmph. I can at least appreciate the dedication to your work. Erika-sama been waiting for three minutes. I'll send them up right now."

'ON HOLD' blinked slowly on the screen as a Pikachu waved cutely. The whole setup smelled fishy to Lane. Calling the region backwards had gotten old, but what other word was there for a place where there wasn't a reliable private way to contact people in other regions? Instead he had to call the central League office since they had inter-region contact out of necessity, get explained to him that all their city offices could set up a meeting, talk with the same stern woman who told him that she'd tell the gym leader, do a game of telephone where they set a date, and hope that both of them were on time. Needlessly complicated and annoying. He absolutely was going to convince Erika to get her own communications system installed.

And then there was that little non-sequitur. 'Erika-sama'. Nobody spoke Japanese. Nobody had ever mentioned any of the other honorifics. He was sure as heck not speaking in another language. What gives? Why wasn't anybody calling him 'Kane-kun'? If they did, then he would've started calling himself ridiculous names. Billy-kun. Obama-sama. Weezer-san. Somewhere in himself was a bit of restraint, self-control (whether through the processes of shame that made his head swirl or through some unknown belief that he forgot) or self-preservation he wasn't sure, sure of nothing other than the steadfast belief that slipping any sort of honorific through his mouth would be like a camel speaking French. Hon hon, I spit on you.

It flickered back to life with another room, this time with a green-striped wallpaper, with a familiar secretary's face pensively waiting. Surprised, her eyes searched around the screen for something to look at before staring into the camera: 'stare into the other person's eyes on the screen if you don't know where to look,' so said the rules posted up on the wall behind him.

"Holy moomoo, Lane! What happened to your face?"

He tapped his nose and winced. "Oh, you know. Trainer things. Turns out they've got villains running about over here too. Believe it or not, the nose was from a Magikarp."

"What's wrong?" asked a voice off screen. Erika walked into the picture and gasped, holding both hands on her mouth. "Oh gosh! What happened to you?"

"Ad nauseum, nauseous to my stomach. My face ain't that important. I've got some news that you'll wanna hear. I've arranged for transportation for the Seedot. It'll arrive there later in the week through some shipping company." Learning that the box didn't work over regions was immensely disappointing and made him want to find Bill himself to interrogate the man. What do you mean the magic transfer of pokémon into data wasn't magical enough for them to transport over regions? Did the magical data get a patriot bug snapped onto its rear end? "You'll be getting him soon. Alongside that, I think that I've gotten a lead on how to get the other pokémon. You'll be receiving them, oh, let's say two weeks from now, maybe maybe. I'll send over the dates and exact stuff when I get more confirmation on that front."

Erika pressed herself into the camera, obscuring her secretary's impressed face. "That's nice, but not important at the moment! What happened that injured you so bad? Are you sure that you should even be working on this if you're so injured?"

"It looks worse than it actually is, seriously," Lane said with an eye roll. "Look, let's leave the whole injured face thing alone."

"I think not! Have you even gotten your wounds looked at?" Erika was gobsmacked when he didn't respond. Her voice became shrill, restrained only by keeping each word clearly enunciated. "Do you know how serious a nose injury can be?"

Lane let out a grunt of annoyance. "If you want me to get it looked at, I want to get this meeting over with. So let's focus on the topic and get it over with as fast as possible so I can go see a doctor or whatever."

"You're not going to do that."

"No, I'm not. Can we move on?"

"Your health is important. How am I supposed to talk business when you're practically still bleeding? You should never sacrifice your health for my sake, especially when this meeting doesn't need to happen at this moment. Go to a doctor!" Erika pleaded.

Another silence where they mutually listened over one another. His ears closed as had hers. When Yoko realized things were going nowhere, she decided to interject.

"Erika, I understand how you feel, but this is genuinely urgent. We have set out a realistic time frame to get these pokémon and it'd behoove us to make sure that he's keeping his schedule tidy. If you're so distressed, then maybe it's better if you didn't see him like this," she said.

Rage blanketed her body with the same suddenness as the atmosphere burning in sudden conflagration, the necessary components for survival being eaten alongside any hope for the future—and in the same way, she was left without the tinder to continue. Realizing that she was getting kicked out, there was a smaller her that wanted to fight back. Then came the more adult version of that: putting her foot down and coming with an argument that would shut down any disagreements. The part that was her in totality took over. Without acknowledging them, she spun around and walked out. The door clicked shut behind her.

"Ooh, that's not good," Yoko said with a wince. "I wish that the girl did anything a normal kid would do. Complain or be vindictive and not talk with me. Doing this makes me feel like I'm doing wrong."

Lane stayed silent, partially because he forgot the secretary's name.

She turned back to the camera with a smile. "Despite the circumstances, it's great to see that you're able to get a job done. I was worried by your personality initially. I'm always happy to be proven wrong like this."

When Kane thought about it, Roxanne had practically said the same thing. It must've been something with that specific personality type. "Don't go praising me yet. Save that for when all the pokémon are safe and sound over there. Speaking of, I'm also going to send a write-up that'll explain how to care for the pokémon you're receiving. Maybe you can tell Erika that to cheer her up."

"Nothing will help with that front other than you admitting that she was right and getting yourself checked up. Was there anything else?"

Other than setting up a proper communication center that Erika could use so she wasn't insulated from the rest of the world? "Nothing that I can think of."

"Alright. Thanks, Lane. Continue the good work."

The screen turned off. Once again he had to stick out and tell the person at the counter to connect him with another call. Lulu had finished her berry and was using all the self-control in her little pink body to stop herself from pleading for more. Lane boredly watched the Pikachu waving as he recalled all the hoops that had to be done to transport the pokémon, because of course they would monitor that. Invasive species were a real thing and trafficking was Team Rocket's gig. Barriers were put in place as best they could, taking the form of a wall of paperwork and manpower. Before you could even place the pokéball on a region-approved trader's boat, who had to verify that the pokéball contained the pokémon that you confirmed, then there was a process to confirm that it was a real person on the other end who was receiving them, yadayada legalese. Thankfully having a gym leader on dial had smoothed the process over. Lane, if anything, was offended that a singular Seedot had tightened their britches. The proposition was absurd: the only thing that a Seedot threatened was making the flying-types or bug-types or steel-types or fire-types in the area they were 'invading' too plump.

The screen flickered onto another room. This time it was definitely due to poor connection that he could barely see the details of an active kitchen behind the man. His distinctive green hair and eyes were the only features that stuck out from him that Lane would be able to identify.

"Hello? Who is this?" the man asked. Even his voice sounded like it was bitcrushed during the journey. It barely was able to carry over the clattering pans.

"Yo. Sorry about contacting you this way, suddenness and suddenly stuff like that, but it's hard talking to people over this side of the globe. Name's Lane. I work for the grass gym in Kanto and am calling from Hoenn," Lane said. He flashed the card that Professor Oak had given him, even if the man probably could make out even less details.

"Kanto? What a surprise! We don't hear much news from over there. I'm Cilan. Pleasure to meet you," Cilan said.

"Yeah, I know. You see, I've been contracted in getting certain pokémon for Erika, and I should be getting a Ferrothorn soon 'nough. Thing is that I've got no idea how to care for the things. Thought that a grass gym leader like yourself would know and I was really hoping that you'd have some kind of guide that I could send her."

The man glanced behind when his name was called before nodding. "Just that? I've actually been asked those kinds of questions so many times that I already have papers written up. I think that I should have them on my home computer. I can send those over by the end of today."

"What do I owe you?"

"Nothing!"

"Nothing?"

"I'd hope to call Erika myself at some point so we can exchange tidbits on our respective positions." It was a hunger that was present in every battler, no matter time or place or origin, Lane decided, somewhat intrigued as determination carried through about sixteen pixels of pupils. "I wonder what kind of insights a Kanto trainer could have?"

Nothing much, he wanted to snark.

"You'll have to organize that with her. I'd recommend calling the Celadon League building and getting all that sorted with the person there. Remember that? Ce-la-don. I'm trying to get her to get an international communication majiggy herself, but until that happens, you'll have to deal with the League office and—you know what? I'm sending over the number right now. Not sure if you can hop between Unova and Kanto's majiggy but, eh. That stuff's for the nerds," Lane said.

"Will do! Thanks for this opportunity! I'll be one of the only people in my town who have spoken to someone from Kanto. This is so exciting!" he said.

"The pleasure is all yours. Ciao," Lane said, turning the screen off for the last time. He pumped his fist a few times before holding open the door.

A blade interrupted his path out. He looked down, amused hums playing in sync with the monitor.

"20 questions? Maybe 10? Could be 30? Alrighty~. Let's see: you want me to call Erika back and apologize."

Lurantis see-sawed her blade.

"Alright, so you kind of want me to but that's not what you stopped me for. Hm, hm, hm, hmmmm, perhaps you want me to double check that Oak is getting the pokémon?"

She shook her head.

"Huuuh? Alrighty-o then, maybe you're saying that I should've been more polite to Cilan and should apologize-o."

She shook her head.

"Wow, you're putting me in a corner, friend! Then let's see: with my great, eruditious knowledge, so forth I proclaim that you're saying I should call Erika and set the time for our next meeting."

She shook her head.

"Maybe you're saying that I should call Birch myself and ask?"

She shook her head.

"That I should call and tell somebody that I'm okay? Oh! Blaine! That's it, right?"

She see-sawed her blade.

"Somewhat correct? Are you saying that I should update my status with Blaine?"

She shook her head.

"Call him just to have fun?'

She shook her head.

"Okay, so it isn't about Blaine. But it's about, what? I don't know. Call Norman?"

She shook her head.

"I'm actually confused now! Maybe it'll be better if we work backwards. You obviously want me to call someone. Is it somebody back in Kanto?"

She shook her head.

"So it's somebody here in Hoenn."

She nodded.

"And it's somebody that we know and have met before."

She nodded.

"Have you met them?"

She seesawed her blade.

"Norman?"

She shook her head.

"Um, the professor? I forget his name."

She shook her head.

"...Brendan?" She nodded, making him sigh in relief. "Thank goodness I finally got it, but what do you mean? Why would I—crackers!" Though it was a silly exclamation, it was loud and panicked enough to make the people in the other stalls all jolt in surprise. "Shame all over me! They might've not heard my voice when I was down there! They could totally think I'm dead!"

He stuck his head out and yelled another number to the receptionist. Nervousness couldn't exactly describe how he felt. It was certainly negative. Faking his death was a level of callousness that he felt would be hard to dredge up. It made him a little more unbalanced once he'd sussed out the best place to call, and made him a little less prepared when a perfectly crisp image responded. The ridges were true ridges and red vibrant as freshly launched fireworks. Posters proudly announced themselves as badges of true fandom. Lisia joyously sang in a microphone with a glittering series of spotlights leading towards the girl's open mouth.

"Woah! What happened to you?"

Lane groaned, not wanting to go through another song and dance. "I don't mean to be the butt here, but I'm the butt who needs to butt into your schedule, miss gym leader, since you're the nearest to these guys. Over in a cave that has a name there was a fight between some trainers and mean ol' criminal adults. Have you heard of it?"

Whispers passed as he wondered if she had even processed the words before there was a creaky cog that turned over a new tooth.

"You're Kane!"

"Or at least some person like him," he said. A peace sign further reinforced his Kaneness.

She was already halfway up, words jumbling together like sheep hurrying away from an angry cane, "hold on right a second I'll go get somebody that'll want to see you!"

Crickets could've been stuffed down the tiny holes with how much buzzing came from the silent room. It reminded him of the way that microphones would reflect static onto themselves, static onto static, static turning into static, until it was an unbearable wave that sang alongside the brainwaves and created floaters around his cerebrospinal fluid that made their existence very noticeable—or the physical manifestation of his injuries that were transmorgifying into man-eating sprites that were devouring him from the inside out. Kane couldn't see inside his body and wouldn't want to. That'd require him to lay out and trust a doctor to stick their titanium dowsing rods down an important hole.

Hustling around the screen came two familiar, equally concerned faces.

He made a show of counting through his fingers. "One, two, three, four—nope! Not wrong! It's been days and you're already in Lavaridge!"

"What are you talking about!? You got thrown off a cliff, look like that, and you're talking about us!?" May screeched.

"Yep!" It caught the two flatfooted, letting him charge ahead. "I had no worries, gov'na. I'm a slippery one. This ain't the first side of the law that wants my head and it won't be the last. You two weren't a worry either 'cause I already knew you're a power duo."

"You weren't worried? How?" Brendan asked.

"Trust," Kane said simply. He made sure to put twisted fingers behind his back as a joke. "I trusted in you and my pokémon to make sure we got out of that safely."

"Trust," Brendan repeated.

Kane didn't know if the boy was listening anymore, but felt like hammering it in. "Trust! Like I'm sure you've learned to trust May! You two have already gone through some things together, it seems, especially since you're still standing."
The pair exchanged glances. There was none of the blushing, stammered refusals that he was somewhat expecting (hoping for) rather than a secret shared between smiles.

"You can say that," May said. Her entire demeanor was shaved off with a shake of her head. "Hey, wait! You can't do this!"

"Do what?"

"Shove off our concerns by acting like this!"

"Acting like what?"

"Giving us all that advice and stuff." She jabbed her finger into the camera and then back at Brendan. "Look at him! I've got to shake him down for any kind of emotion whereas you can come and give some kind of big hero speech and he's taking it like gospel!"

"So you think it was a good speech? Thanks so much!"

"Wha-What!? Wait a—" she put a finger to her mouth for a moment's thought. "It's true, but I want to be the one to teach him to trust. You can't be left behind and still be giving all this kind of advice."

Brendan's head lowered, a disgruntled grunt sliding out.

May spun around and waved her hands wildly. "Ah! I'm sorry! I know that you hate being talked about when you're here! Sorry, sorry!"

"It's fine," he mumbled. Brendan glanced at the camera, flicking back to his lap. "You really trusted us? Even though we're new trainers?"

"New trainers who are already this far. Like I said, hero, when you first helped me back there, I could tell that you're somebody different." Kane made sure his whole camera was focused on his face. "Don't worry about me. These injuries are mostly cosmetic. Now, why don't you tell me how the heck you two have gotten so far in so little time. Heck, I was expecting you guys to be at Lava Ridge within two weeks! How the heck are you guys traveling so fast!?"

Serious time over, May took the center stage as she butted Brendan out of frame. "We're focusing on the wrong thing right now: I was picked out by Lisia herself to become a coordinator!"

He was given a series of events that he would never believe if they weren't being said by protagonists. From nice people giving flights when they heard about the heroic journey, to single digit hours of training that boosted them to levels where they could tackle gym leaders that were underestimating them, to strange gangsters that were fought, to strong pokémon being caught that boosted their power, it was an auspicious rise that Red didn't match—though Kane was wondering how much it was due to Red having to walk between each of the gyms. He wondered how much he really did when pairing the two together. He wondered about a lot of things, but was convinced that nothing new happened under the sun the more that the protagonists talked about how the world bent backwards for their unrealistic goal.

Stretching after sitting down for an hour straight felt amazing. Especially with the stool meant to discourage long calls, he had been put through a mini torture chamber through that partial interrogation.

When you considered the amount of work that he'd done within such a short time frame, it became almost magical how everything lined up. It made him think. Who was he to be talking about anybody else not being modernized when he was a normal trainer roughing it with the dirt and bugs? He had to walk into the equivalent of a public telephone, even if it was much fancier. Phones existed. They were much more limited, true, but they still existed. Who was he to call anybody from being backwards when he only owned the clothes on his back?

Rustboro was known to be the center of technology in the entire region with the Devon headquarters centered there and an entire danged academy doing its own research on the other end of town. Calling Devon Corp just a building was like calling the ocean a pond. Within those brick walls was cutting edge research with teams of scientists; none of them as brilliant as Oak, yet with resources that he could only balk in jealousy at. White smoke clouds flew up into the air from the factories behind the main building with hints of purple intermixed with the puffs—Weezing, eating away the leftover pollution. Lane frowned at the implication. Wouldn't energy be cleaner if they could use electric and fire pokémon as sources? Obviously not, since there were still purple guys hanging around, a faint whiff of something chemical in the air as he walked up to the front doors.

Phones usually didn't express any sort of individuality—or at least that was how Kane remembered them. There was just too much centralization. You either had a normal phone, the normal phone for people who wanted to pretend they knew about technology, a dated piece of junk either for hipsters or old people, and one that didn't even try hiding that it was put together in a sweatshop. What sort of personality could be gleaned from these? How much could the human soul really be gleaned just by looking over all the customizations? That a person went through the effort of hacking into their hardware, just so they could uninstall the apps that were previously considered 'too important' to remove, and that they actually thought that buying a sticker of their favorite band and plonking it right on the back really reflected an important compartment to their life, or perhaps that their entire phone's storage was taken up by games that they'd cycle through rather than superfluous family photos they didn't even remember taking.

Not in Hoenn. With the function of technology being much more niche, much less globalized yet just as advanced, it allowed for much more diversity to exist. His own block of circuits was cumbersome, about the size of his whole hand despite having a screen size about half of it. That was traded off with the sheer amount of benefits that was underneath the plastic cover. Hard, sturdy, made with a daily trainer's life in mind as it wouldn't short circuit when he was inevitably dragged into a river again. There was some science-y gobblygook that he couldn't understand which was helpfully explained by the salesperson: thing connected with other thing when underneath thing to other regions. That thing was usually inside the big cities, which made it so that he didn't have to be caught inside a public phone booth like a caveman. Its case was pure white, the buttons bigger than his thumbprint, and had pong on it. Previously, it could combine many apps together to act like a pseudo pokédex. In a few years many trainer-centric phones would nearly be phased out as the pokédex ate their user base, barely clinging on by spending a startling amount of money on celebrity ads.

Walking back to the school felt like much more time had passed. That sort of thing happens when you're forced to beg for a ride from the trainers once you remembered that all the appointments you made were later that day. Students who he'd taught gawked as he walked onto campus. Nobody was brash enough to ask where the wounds came from—a shame. He already had a whole story concocted.

"Kane!"

The only person who bothered to come up and ask was the only one who would eventually suss out that there was something going on.

"Who? Oh! Kane. Right, Kane. I am Kane. Kane is fine," Kane said.

Roxanne didn't have to shoulder past the students in the hallway as they spread out for her. She stood in front of Kane, staring him down.

"What happened up there?" He was about to speak before his hand was seized. "Nevermind. You're going to the infirmary right now. No classes for today! We'll reschedule them later."

He sighed. From the arms of one overly-concerned busybody into another.

Chapter Text

The first time that he appeared, historically speaking, was outside of the Pewter city gym on a particularly hot summer day. After Ash had gotten his final badge, he was walking back to the pokécenter with his backpack hanging off the tips of his fingers. The heat made him pause, looking across the city that he'd barely spent any time in. Memories of the past day were catching up alongside the exhaustion. Pausing gave him a moment to appreciate the view above the river that he was walking alongside. Viridian Forest stood as a wall of nature between the southwestern part of the region, his hometown, and them. Only a few houses treaded towards the bulky area, though most left plenty of room between them and the treeline. Everything had a good distance between them until you made it to the center of town where real paved streets and concrete ruled.

Few people walked around as the sun slid beneath the horizon. The smaller towns in Kanto were renowned, sometimes mocked, for their dead nightlife. Nine o' clock spelled the end of any grand activities. Technically gyms ran off the will of the gym leader but Brock had a very strict time when people could challenge him—most likely because of his brothers and sisters at home, now that Ash had perspective. Growing up in an isolated town made him used to the placid flow of life. Even the pokémon seemed to get the hint as the only one milling around the town was a curious Jigglypuff who sniffed around the gardens. She wanted to find an audience among those already fluffing their pillows.

Ahead of the path was a boy who hadn't shed the baby fat from his cheeks yet. Roving blue eyes seemed to be taking in the entirety of the scenery before focusing on him. The pokéballs attached to a belt on his waist jangled as he walked up with all the swagger new trainers had when looking for a challenge. His puny thumbs hooked around the loose belt loops. Ash curiously watched as the boy seemed to be faking himself out, thinking that he was going ahead then stumbling around until he nearly tripped down the ramp falling towards the water. Eventually those traveling eyes found their port and headed straight down towards him.

"Did I see that you got your badge from Brock himself!? Oh my gosh, that's so cool!"

Ash relaxed. For a second there, he was thinking that he was going to be challenged by yet another fight when his pokémon had already been stretched to their limits. Pikachu was rubbing his belly in hunger. He figured that wasting time when they'd been through a lot through the day would eventually have them crash and burn.

Didn't mean that he couldn't gloat a little though. Who else could he do it with? Brock was apparently coming alongside them and knew that he only won off a technicality, and he really wished that Misty wasn't around.

He jabbed a finger to his chest. "Yeah, that's right. It was me and Pikachu who won that fight! It was close, but we did it!"

"Pika-pi!" Pikachu agreed.

"Can I see your badge?"

He'd been playing with it in the palm of his hand. Unrolling it revealed the angular edges of the metal, a shiny piece that absorbed everything into its gray gem luster. Ash felt unduly proud about the accomplishment. Though he wanted to proudly say that he could easily win a fight against Brock one day, everything working out for the guy was enough to satisfy him. As far as he saw it, the badge was merely a placeholder for when he truly won. It wasn't just him; Pikachu had leapt onto his shoulder to get a better view and was actively, excitedly gasping where it was barely audible.

"Shiny!" the boy said. "That's so cool! Can I have your autograph? You look super strong! I bet that you're going allll the way!"

"All the way!?" Ash recovered from the excitement to pump his fist in my face. "You bet I am! I'm gonna be the best pokémon trainer who's ever lived! And Pikachu will be the greatest Pikachu in the whole world!"

"Pika-pika!" the pokémon yelled.

The boy waited patiently. Then not so patiently. "So, autograph."

"Oh, yeah."

The boy provided the materials. Ash tapped the back of the pen against his lips. What did he want his signature to be? Would it be cool and confident, or would it be classy and refined?

Ah, what the heck am I stressing over!? Ash thought to himself, thwacking the pen around the page with wild abandon. Those weren't words at all and he'd forget what pattern he sketched out the next hour.

The boy took the paper, leaning as far into the tippy toe as he could without falling. Everything there reminded Ash of the long-ago time (a week or so ago) when he was excitedly bouncing from his room's walls imagining the day when he'd finally be let loose upon the world. Even still he couldn't stop himself from letting out gasps and leaning in when seeing an interesting battle. Everything pokémon was awesome! He loved to see that in other people!

"Are you being honest? That you think I'm going all the way?" Ash asked excitedly.

"Oh, sure, sure!" the kid younger than Ash reassured. "You're definitely going allll the way! That Pikachu looks suuuper strong and you beat Brock! He's super difficult! He's got an Onyx, you know!"

"Hahahaha! That's right!" Ash smacked a hand against his arm. "Don't forget you said that when I make it to the Ever Grande Conference!"

He ran off, Pikachu making it a game of bouncing around his trainer as they both went to the hotel room.

The boy waited until the pair were far away, then out of sight. He pivoted on his heel and took out the paper with nonsense scribbled on it. Waffling in his head whether to throw it away or not, he eventually decided on tucking it in his pocket in a careless ball. If it had any value in the far flung future, they wouldn't mind how much the paper had been abused. Walking over to the path's edge made him squint as the canal seemed to shine brighter than the day.

Chuckles moved his whole shoulder. Letting his head hang back felt great. Sweat that had swam beneath his hairs swiftly became a solid gel—gathered from having to run when he was trying to set up the scene. Finding the emotional moment between Brock and his dad made him hurriedly have to use his puny legs to locate himself where the duo wouldn't spot him early. He still had a script in mind for that, but he liked the 'happen upon' script better than the 'urgent fanboy' one.

"Well, well, well. Now that we've got a canon confirmed, we've got a bunch of things to do. Hopefully nothing throws off my predictions. With this…hm, hm, hm~! Ah, the possibilities! Where to next? Where to next? I've been waiting so long that I've got too many things that I want to do! Being too annoying would have the others probably work together to kick me out so I have to plan around that. What am I going to do…"

He walked in the opposite direction, smile never leaving his face.

The second time was inside Cerulean City. Admittedly, Ash didn't notice him at first. Never let it be said that Ash was a very observant person, or overly kind, or sharp, or witty, or any words that went over his head because he'd assume you're offending him; in this situation it was hard to lay the blame at his feet however, as it was a particularly clever spot wedged between a sign and bush that was close enough to the path that passerby wouldn't assume the boy was there for nefarious reasons. Was greeting an old friend nefarious anyways?

Ash was a little off balance too. The day started weird with Misty acting weird, then a robbery that nearly got him and Brock thrown into the pound, and then Brock left for his own devices that weren't explained. Holding up the map to the sun didn't make it any easier to discern either. It was a tangle of roads with no sort of rational explanation that could hold why the houses appeared where they did. Looking around also made him appreciate how much effort Cerulean made in beautifying while acknowledging that having raised platforms and constant greenery made it a pain seeing anywhere.

Thus far it was also the biggest city that he'd visited during his travels yet, with a respectable suburb at the northern end while the southern half had a commercial district where the robbery happened. A straight split—Main St., which Ash appreciated the easily remembered names so he didn't get more lost—went down the center of town that qualified each district. Still, the old fashioned Kanto pace of life still persisted. Most of the roads were still made of packed dirt and the paint on cheaper buildings was chipping off from the sea breeze that was filtered through the hills that laid along the coast. Families walked the streets alongside pokémon that were hauling boxes around.

He nearly walked past the kid who had popped out from his hiding place. Ash was too busy reading the map and Pikachu didn't really care too much. After realizing that he'd been ignored, the kid ran ahead until he was standing in front of Ash.

"Hi again! It's so strange that we meet again so soon!" the boy said.

Ash slowly lifted himself from the map. He blinked a few times. The sound of the motor thrumming to life could practically be heard with each heavy lift of his eyelids.

"Oh, it's you! The fan," Ash said as a greeting.

"And a hello to you too! I'm going to assume that you're here for a full tour? I know the area! I can tell you everything there is to know about Cerulean."

Ash held up his hand. "Just the gym."

Shakily, the boy tippy-toed as his pout dragged down the corners of his lips. "Are you telling me that you don't want to know anything about Cerulean? It's a really interesting town!"

Ash looked around again. It looked like any normal town to him.

Taking that as an answer, the boy shook his head in exasperation. "Alright, you win! You're a one-track mind, aren't you, mister Ketchum? I guess it's how you've gotten so good at battling. If you really want to know where the gym is and only the gym, then follow along. You've got a badge to win!"

"And you'll get to see one of my fights!" Ash yelled, pumping his fists.

"Pika-pika!" Pikachu echoed.

Just when the boy had started walking, he stalled. A guilty smile was thrown back. "I can't stick around for your full fight. I've got things that I need to do, unfortunately. I already know that you're going to win so there's no reason to watch anyways. Promise you're not angry?"

"Not at all. Cheer me on outside and I'll be just as motivated! I won't let my first fan down!" Ash said.

The boy was very nearly inspired by that and the "pikaaaa!" that followed—'nearly'. He turned around to hide the devilish grin that was trying its hardest to clench down on the giggles. In the end he decided that speaking would let something loose. He trailed at the edges of the paths while the duo followed behind him. It wasn't an especially hard thing to find, in the boy's opinion, as the colors of the roof were fairly recognizable when you knew what you were looking for. The 'oohs' that came from behind didn't sway him to stop before the goofy building. He walked ahead, hands locked behind his back, and pushed ahead of the glass doors that led into a lobby. Then he pushed again, into the dark room where the people in the back glared at the distraction.

Ash was right behind, making sure that each new thing that entered his vision got its due admiration by letting out, "woah," or, "oooh," and the like. The boy was impressed with how the whole stadium had its seats filled, showing the superpower of not asking people for tickets to see the show. If there were free entertainment in his town then surely he'd be amongst the stadium crowd too surely. The women standing on a pedestal in the center of the olympic pool almost seemed menacing, being the only things visible, consumed by the dark when they leapt down. Spotlights danced around until converging on the legs that were sticking above the water.

"There's your targets," he whispered, pointing down to the trio. From the distance they were standing, barely the hair colors were obvious. The boy still smirked at the jolt that came from Ash. "Yep, it's true. If you want to see them, then go to the aquarium; they usually dry off while looking at the water-types. Can you make it there yourself?"

"I can! Thanks for the help," Ash said, immediately making it out to where he thought the aquarium could be.

The boy's interlocked hands swung. Gleefully he watched the full swim routine from the top of the steps and was the first out when the lights gradually turned on.

"No. Thank you."

The third time that they met, Lane really felt that he might've screwed the pooch.

"So, uh," his hand came up to rub down the whole of his face, "really don't know how I got wrapped up into this."

The guy next to him chuckled in a mysterious way, except Lane knew everything about this guy and knew nothing about him was mysterious.

"Why, what sort of question is that? You helped us in a time of need and proceeded our villainous plans. What else could've we done except support you with all our hearts?" he asked.

The next person was the type to do a haughty laugh instead, reserving her voice for the velvety malice entangled in her general speech. He'd seen the quirk dropped too many times for him to feel intimidated by it.

"There's no such thing as an unpaid debt. Everything comes back around, no matter the costs." Her curled hair bounced as she whipped around. "That's what we believe! You scratched our backs, now it's time for yours to be scratched!"

The last member of the dynamic trio bounded high enough that he could've vaulted over Lane's head. "Meowth! Dat's right! And it won't be with mine! Dat'll hurt!"

"Yeah, it'd hurt, right," Lane agreed lamely.

The villains shared a laugh together where he weakly added a few ha's so they wouldn't get suspicious.

So he initially thought that gently helping them out of the net trap was going to be fun. They were the dynamic trio! Inserting himself into that sounded like oodles of fun! It's only when he was already knee-deep in the action that he realised something: they didn't have an off switch. These weren't acts that they put up for the cameras; all of them were genuinely like that 24/7. From that time that they'd been thanking him, concocting a plan to steal a bunch of pokémon and then carrying it out, there was the constant byplay that felt like it should've been scripted but wasn't. Initially he'd been thinking of sticking with the guys long-term. But, and this was only thought of when he'd stepped foot on the chrome UFO that they made, he had started to think that it was a horrible idea.

For one, he wasn't going to get 'blasted off'. Heck no! That looked like it hurt!

Second of all, he wasn't sure that their personalities would be anything but intolerable after mundane things, such as waking up in the middle of the night because they were plotting with those same voices that probably didn't have indoor versions. Imagining the quips that'd come if he was using the bathroom and they needed to use it too was making him annoyed already.

Thirdly, they were kind of criminals—funny criminals, but still criminals. Not that he was against crime per se, but kidnapping kind of sentient beings didn't make him feel nice. The fantasy of being in the pokémon universe in his opinion was as follows: being a strong trainer, interacting with pokémon, messing with people in novel ways, then everything else. Sights and the like were boring. What use was seeing the poké-Notre Dame? Even lower on the priority scale was being a huge jerk who blows up things for a living. He wanted that kind of thing to be more of a side gig.

Standing as the ironclad counterpoint was that he'd already stepped on the gigantic disc that was kept aloft with a few balloons. Inside he could hear the machinery clunking as the slapdash repairs kept it doing something. Whatever pseudoscientific gobbleygook they could think of. Lane felt trapped, and felt that maybe he deserved it. He could've just walked to the village (he was lost, but it was possible) or waited on the path back or waited until later to mess with Ash.

James lowered down to his height. "You see those specks? That's the twerp and his friends. They've consistently interfered with our flawless plans."

"Sounds like you should avoid them."

"Tsk, tsk, tsk," Jessie chastised. "You've got a long way to go with dull reasoning like that. For people like that brat, they're dangerous, but also provide the greatest reward if they're bested."

"A single bounty that kid is protecting and we're set for life!" Meowth said.

James was proud, chin raised high as we started lowering. "And it's bound to happen. We're the genius Jessie and James."

"And Meowth!"

"Genius, dashing, beautiful, and smart. What more could you ask for? A catchphrase? We have those too!" She raised her arm high as James did the same next to her. "To protect the world from devastation!"

"To unite all peoples within our nation!"

"To denounce the evils of truth and love!"

"To extend our reach to the stars above!"

"Team Rocket! Blasts off at the speed of light!"

"Surrender now! Or prepare to fight!"

"That's right!"

"Uh, and I'm here too, I guess," Lane said unconfidently.

Far below he could imagine what it looked like as the dark spot glided over the cute little cottage. It was another reason that he felt bad: normally doing something like this (threatening a normally idyllic countryside with some strange contraption) would be funny if it weren't built for the express purpose of kidnapping pokémon. Realizing what was happening early, he laid flat on his belly and hoped that the physics of the pokémon world wouldn't leave him splattered like a bug. What a way to go! Lane could see himself getting split in two and the whole Team Rocket operation becoming a little awkward because there was blood, and then James would talk in his same voice about how that wasn't supposed to happen—which is where the fantasy cut off, annoyed that even in his head their voices were cemented.

The balloons simultaneously deflated. They fell down multiple stories. Without any handles Lane closed his eyes until impact rocked his body. The dizziness that immediately followed made him tilt when trying to get up, rolling straight off the roof until he had hit a grassy floor. Whatever that followed happened too fast for him to follow, horrible position to see besides. Eventually he staggered back up to his feet (wouldn't that UFO be stuck there since the girl only had single evolutions in the village? he asked as he used it as a fancy cane.) and started working towards where the group should've been. If they didn't see him then no harm, no foul. He'd back out and pretend it never happened. Team Rocket had already been blasted off so it also wasn't sure they'd connected him with the villains even if he was caught.

"Hey! Aren't you my fan!?"

Suppressing a groan, Lane spun around and immediately regretted it as shapes started repeating themselves in a continuous line like an 80s music video. The four people alongside a bunch of smaller pokémon were all facing him down as if he were an enemy—which was an entirely valid assumption to make, but he considered it very rude that he was thrown into that category without asking about his deep backstory.

Normally he would be more willing to banter and beguile if every opening of his mouth didn't bring in spiky cool air and let out undulations of his muscles. Clamping a palm down barely saved him from tilting over the edge. Eventually he was able to palm down the pokéball that held Lulu, maybe; his pokéballs were kept in loose spots because he couldn't be bothered actually making an order to them and memorizing each ball.

"What do you mean, 'fan'?" Misty asked.

"I mean that he's been following me around and saying how he hopes that I win my fights! And he was totally just with Team Rocket!" Ash threw out his finger. "Well!? Are you going to say anything?"

Two words managed to get coughed out without chucking up a piece of nearly-digested food. "Nah. Battle."

"Alright, if it's battle you want, then it's a battle you're gonna get!" Ash swung back an arm as he partially turned around. "Pikachu, I choose you!"

"Pika-pi!" Pikachu said in determination, running in front of his trainer. Arcs leapt between his red dots for cheeks as the pokémon started visibly glowing. Power incarnate, the Pikachu was ready to let loose on whatever pokémon came as its opponent.

Lane could hardly contain both his guts and his excitement. This was the chosen moment: Ash Ketchum, the protagonist, in a fated battle against the random schmuck who chose poorly and trained in the middle of the wilderness. This may not be the person who Lane knew later in life, as this was before the many character-defining moments that questionably carried over to a new region. He still was a monument characterizing his early childhood and the anticipation had nearly boiled over; it was why he'd done such a boneheaded thing earlier, after all.

Tossing out the pokéball brought out his partner. Which Lane was coming out had taken some thought: it could've been obviously sandbagging Lane who played around with Dunsparce before giving up, it could've been secretly sandbagging Lane who tried with Dunsparce and pretended not to have other pokémon, it could've been wise Lane who used Lulu to teach a life lesson, it could've been evil Lane who sneak attacked them, it could've been non-trainer Lane who didn't have any pokémon but secretly did, it could've been smart Lane who devised a complicated trap to weaken them enough that his supposedly 'weak' Lulu who only knew tackle could win, and it could've been the many more that he'd sketched out complete with scripts and general attitudes that he was meant to take; yet he'd decided on the simplistic Lane, as he was too frazzled to salvage the horrific entrance.

Lulu came out, rubbing her blades over her face. A pokédex came out and scanned his partner.

There were four gasps—Ash, Brock, Misty, and the girl who Lane forgot the name of who was sticking around for a single episode.

"An error!? What does that mean?" Brock asked.

"That's never happened before," Misty said.

"Probably that its so weak the pokédex doesn't even know about it," Ash said. Switching his ballcap so that it was facing backwards, he let out a cocky grin. "We've got this, Pikachu!"

Brock reached out without grabbing anything. "Careful, Ash. Appearances don't mean much with pokémon. Even the smallest can be strong if the trainer knows what they're doing!"

"Like Goldeen! She's unstoppable in the water!" Misty yelled, getting three flat looks from her friends and Pikachu.

Meanwhile, Lane was rubbing his arm on the other side of the field while Lulu started tracing circles in the grass with her claw.

"Um, are we starting? Did they forget?" he whispered to Lulu, getting a shrug. He repeated louder, "are we starting?"

Ash leapt a bit. "Oh, right. Pikachu! Thunderbolt!"

"Lulu, blast 'em away!"

Two attacks fired simultaneously. One had the sense to dodge before starting to manipulate the leaves around her while the other casually let their three second long charge time root them in place. A quiet mumble escaped the mouse's lips before it was blasted off its feet by a wall of leaves. A few bounces later and Pikachu was knocked out, drool escaping from the edges of his mouth. Ash immediately was by his friend's side, cradling his pokémon's head.

"Pikachu!"

The clearing was silent. Evil chuckles erupted, quickly ramping up in intensity.

"Mwahahaha! What a fool you were, Ash Ketchum! This whole time you really thought that a dinky one badge trainer would have a fan!? Nay!" His arm outstretched, then whipped back over his face so that most of it was covered by his palm. His other hand pulled at the lapel of his shirt. Lulu read the room. She faced away from them and leaned back, holding the blade at the lower part of her face so she could still see them. "It is I, Dane Marlon! I am Team Rocket's secret operative! I'm so secretive that nobody within the organization knows who I am! Those fools I hitched a ride with thought I was a normal kid!"

"He lied about his name too? What kind of guy are we dealing with here!?" Brock yelled.

"What're you even here for? You better tell us or we're going to beat you up!" Misty yelled.

"What am I here for?" he repeated quietly. The short glance from Lulu made him plaster a wider smile. "Ahah! Ahaha! Ahaha! Ha! What am I here for!? You think that I'm going to tell you? I'm not a secret operative for nothing! I've already completed my goal! Coming here was merely a whim!"

"So," the last girl said, hands tightly clenching her clothes, "you're not here to steal the pokémon?"

Dane narrowed his eyes. "You can keep your dinky pokémon. Far as I see it, if those goons continue wasting their time with small targets like this, they'll be at it for the rest of their lives. That goes for the rest of you. I'm not here to fight or steal your pokémon. Really, I just wanted to see how heroic Ash was being. Heroic? Hero! You're now the hero!"

Ash was at the brink of crying, so frustrated that he smashed a fist against the ground. His head whipped up.

"What do you want from us!?"

This time Dane was prepared, peeling back his palm to reveal an evil smile.

"I want you to grow, hero. If you're going to continue going out of your way to adventure and help people, this power level is pathetic. It's pathetic for all of you!" Dane whipped out his hand, making the others flinch. "I can excuse Brock, but Misty is meant to become a great pokémon trainer too! This power level is simply unacceptable! I want to see your growth! I want to see your heroic story and maybe you'll have the power to interfere with my plans! As it is, this is merely a glimpse of the power held within Dane Marlon! You're not worth it! You'll only see the person who is Lane Rand for the rest of your life if you continue with this meagre growth! I'd pack up and return to Pallet Town unless you find some guts, all of you!"

He scooped up Lulu and started running. From behind he could hear Ash's promise.

"I'm not giving up! I'll become the greatest pokémon trainer in the world and beat you! Just you wait, Dane!"

He continued running until he was sure that they were out of sight. Depositing Lulu on a rock gave him some time to breathe, looking up with manic eyes.

"Holy crud, we absolutely cannot meet that kid once this year is over or he's going to smoke us," Dane said warily, to an unamused Lulu. Then he rethought his statement. "Well, we'll probably be fine when he randomly gives away his pokémon when going to a new region. Oh, he's also a chronic choker so we probably can take him when he's in the tournament itself. I feel like we could win during the Orange Islands? Definitely Unova too. Oh, and he's probably also going to be dumb enough to walk into traps that skew our chances no matter how much time passes. And…"

He continued debating about a boy's future power level to an uninterested conversation partner.

Chapter Text

"Thanks for the battle! Thanks for the battle!" the young boy was yelling, bowing, generally being a nuisance.

She didn't mind the attitude. Eagerness, that was never to be punished. Even insubordination or breaking propriety didn't matter overly much to her when it was done with a genuine sense of enthusiasm; as that kind of positive emotion which could break through the normal routine was rare, it was to be cherished.

That didn't mean she wanted to hear it too often. When somebody was that excitable, it rather looked to be artificial. She gestured for him to rise.

"You're welcome! Please rise! It was a great fight, but surely I don't deserve this type of treatment."

They did rise, with a fist clenched and eyes to the future. "Of course you do! With your advice I came back stronger, and I'll continue to do so! With my pokémon by my side, I'll become just as strong as Red! Isn't that right, Golduck?"

While the kid was snuggling with his pokémon, Erika got the opportunity to let her serene smile waver. Red had done a number on the region. Being the youngest champion, prodigy in how strong his pokémon got in an absurdly short time, and most likely being the strongest trainer bar none that Kanto has ever produced, it naturally followed that he'd have fans. These fans ranged from the normal to the strange. They all said similar: at the same level as Red?

It had turned into a traumatic memory. The one who was the lodestone of the region, Johto's most powerful trainer that she'd secretly admired even when he was still persona non grata on the other side of the border, a person who managed to wrest control of both the region and his own family with a combination of traits which were the descriptors of legends: charismatic, powerful, politically savvy, popular, educated, and objective towards the sister region. Everything about him was as if he'd been granted as a gift to mend the break between the two regions.

Her childhood ended when during an interview, the question thrown out being, "how long until you're confident that you can beat Champion Red in a battle?" there was a split second reaction of him grimacing.

The enthusiasm wasn't anything to be discouraged, even if she wanted to gently shatter the boy's dreams.

Once the challenger left she was sitting there. Alone. Under the tree. It was the perfect time for a nap just as she had done hundreds of times before. She'd been drifting into hypnagogia when one of her girls was running with a piece of paper clutched to her chest.

"Erika-senpai!" she yelled. Skidding to a stop just above her, the letter was shoved down into her face. "The League offices said that this was for you!"

Blinking away the last remnants of the nap, she gently took the paper. It was no longer warm. Thanking her, Erika quickly read down the document.

"Dear Grass Gym Leader Erika Celadon,

I had no idea how to start this so I decided that being straight was the best way to say this: I'm sorry. I'm not really sure what I'm saying sorry for. Maybe it's all the way back to the game corner thing. I bet that you would've been right next to us if we told you our suspicions first, but neither of us were thinking about that and I'm not even sure if I have something to apologize for? That wouldn't make sense, apologizing for something that I'm not even sure about. That makes it kind of bad, right?

So I'll just apologize for the thing that I think I did wrong. I'm sorry for acting really nonchalant when you were trying to be concerned. All the injuries that I got didn't seem that bad to me, but if you were acting that they were a big deal, then I should've at least not brushed it off. I'll try not acting like this in the future, but I'm still learning, I guess? The only reason that I know I'm in the wrong is because I got set straight in an entirely different issue…I won't take your time by explaining it here.

Sorry. That's basically what I wanted to say.

Regards, Lane"

She held the page closer to her.

"Oh," she muttered. Her fingers trailed alongside the creases where it had been folded. "This was thoughtful. More than I thought he could be."

It was folded up and stored in her sash. Vague shapes danced along with fake grass-types in her dreams.

Chapter Text

There weren't very many opportunities for her to say that her time was truly free. Being a public figure meant keeping the persona up in public—not too hard, as the road left uncrossed by her birthed demeanor had been surpassed by being raised rightly. Equally respecting her superiors, peers, and the common folk gave her gigantic strides in seeming untouchable while behind a genial smile could be equally vitriolic disagreement, and even that was exaggerated because she could count on her fingers the amount of opinions that had her frothing mad, most of them implying that anyone deserved violence. Not that she was a pacifist per se rather than believing in the inviolability of laws: until you have broken them, you enjoyed the full protections guaranteed by them.

Periods of time that'd be considered as a break for said common man was a time when they believed to be free of responsibility—a thought that Erika found silly considering that many jobs could cut into it if needed and nobody was ever truly free from their responsibility as a son, a father, a person in society—which didn't really apply to her when the job description specified that as long as there were eyes, she was on call. Eating lunch and walking home from the gym were both work of their own considering that her posture, her polite conversation topics, the building blocks which made her a communicative being were all manicured. It was a life that she couldn't recommend for everyone and would rather be thrown into a cement mixer than admit it was within everyone's reach (for once not simply sniping at Surge, also including Blaine who secluded himself on an island, the hot-tempered May who got the edge over her sisters because the League liked her spunk compared to their addiction to hair products, and Giovanni who turned out to be the Team Rocket's boss—whoops!), yet she wouldn't trade it for the world. It wouldn't be apt to say that she was born for the role because for every inch of conscious effort, it was matched by the work to transition genuine effort into unconscious processes.

Something always needed doing too. She could spend time with her pokémon, train her pokémon, train with her gym leaders, make sure that her gym leaders were working together well, spend time with her gym leaders to further get a pulse on the ground, experiment with plants, work on the garden, talk a walk so the public knows they're protected, coordinate with other public institutions to make sure that her city was safe, do a PR campaign, make sure that her schedule was organized, read the news, help out with her local conservation efforts, help out with her local trash clean up, give tourists a bang by leading a tour, researching, and still so many other tasks which were technically not expected of a gym leader yet would be seen as a personal failing if she weren't to keep up. Nothing was superfluous. When you were a public figure, inaction itself was action, and she liked to be thought of as a dynamic person. A bare minimum of nine hours of sleep was needed to function too, so it could be considered that napping itself was part of her work.

With all these caveats true 'free time' meant privacy. Not a pokémon, not a coworker, not a family member, and not a common person around to tell her what to do. Not an expectation to match. It would further behoove her to plead for understanding against people who misinterpreted her actions. Naturally talented? Motivated? Passionate? All of the above. Obsessed?—tarnish the word, for it describes a person from another time! As said, the road was mostly crossed, bits of fatal character flaws that would've sunk her in the long term getting ironed out. One, embarrassingly, was the expected consequence of beating the entirety of your family when you'd barely passed your eleventh birthday. Losing afterwards to a trainer she saw as an inferior (socially, intellectually) hadn't brought a pretty reaction; the road crossed was of mindset too, as she no longer had a sore spot in her brain when losing. Another flaw was that pernicious mindset of being the youngest in her region (at that time) having to stand out amongst the giants that weren't expecting the world of the child prodigy. A single, perhaps a few, overtimes and she'd had the idea violently beaten in her head to excise and isolate work from no work.

She recognized that there was always work. It's just that she was better at pretending there wasn't. And the power of relaxation was like no other. Meditation, the beauty of silence, and the beauty of not thinking. Times necessitated that movement didn't have thought. It was like the forced compliance of reigning in an active mind while trying to fall asleep, without the dread that minutes were ticking away and you'd be expected to put in a full workday tomorrow. Emptiness begets fertile ground. Going back would have her refreshed as it always did, as a single taste of emptiness felt freeing when normally your next 24 hours were already determined as if you'd already lived through them.

So she used her tactics towards separating her worklife from her non-worklife (hardly could be called 'normal' or 'daily' if it were so rare). She wore a simple black t-shirt and brown shorts that were so breathable its material should've been adopted by the whole world already. She inelegantly ate a bag of crackers in her room. She laid on her stomach with her legs absent-mindedly kicking in the air. Splayed out on her pillow was the newest edition of Weird Kanto that she was flipping through. If a best friend could be an inanimate object then she'd found her soulmate. The covers creased with every little adjustment as she kept trying to find a cool spot that'd last for more than a few minutes. It was an automatic process that didn't stop her from slowly consuming the articles.

In truth, she didn't believe in most of it. 'Theosophy' and 'hermetic' principles sounded like made up words whereas ideas such as the 'noumena' and 'egregore' made her want to see Sabrina's reaction—so it went when you read the minor articles of Weird Kanto. How the magazine was able to place articles written by part-time secretaries for schools, with the topic of how to bring out the greatest spiritual power from your pokémon's relationships, next to articles written by an unemployed 31 year old mystic, claiming that it's been scientifically proven that the Ninetales' chakra centers could be connected with the world body alongside your own, was a thing of mystery. She consumed both all the same. Some had fully entered her belief. Something about the inevitable epoch of the good-ish times trickling into the bad—'kali yuga'—tickled her fancy despite her unerring optimism for the future, as did the idea that there was a world beyond the psychics which was colored by the power contained within thinking itself. Fun, fun, fun!

It had already been claimed that she reads everything, though there were a few exceptions. One of those were the horoscope explanations; not necessarily the horoscopes themselves, but the explanations which had become stale to reread when nothing had changed. There were a few reasons that she stopped at the long paragraphs however: chiefly it was due to the 'science' (quote on quote, because she wasn't sure what validated these beliefs past the 'universal principles' which were perceived differently by the different magazines, then justified by the eristic and aneristic principles merely creating the illusion of unity/disunity—not unity and disunity, which would imply that they're separate) advancing with the acceptance of new typings. On her nightstand that only had a cup of water and lamp the size of her head was Principled Observer which took a staunchly anti-anarchic-typing position, claiming they were aberrations within the cosmotechnic sphere's irruptions of forcing the spiritually pure Kanto to link with the abominable morality of Johto. Great stuff! But she wanted a little bit more positivity and to feel like she was making a real difference. Seeing the efforts of her and Lane coming to fruition in such a minor way made her feel happy.

Plus she'd met a few people she wanted to know the typings of. Opening up to the page brought her to Doctor Sara Krishnamaruti's culmination of her research after an extended trip to other regions to learn about the typings. Skipping past the glorified travelogue brought her to the part that she wanted to see.

"FIRST and MOST IMPORTANTLY, it is essential to remember that whatever insights that come with this essay are not meant to override the teachings from a mystic in your area. They are specifically attuned to the energies and specific circumstances which make the universal principles manifest in a time and place rather than what you can get from any mass-produced written word. Though I write in Kanto and would like to say I've glimpsed the UNIVERSAL TRUTH which underlies it, a local mystic would have more specific insights. There are false mystics and many do not have the means to visit one; being made for those who don't have reliable sages was always the purpose of these writings, not acting as a substitute for one. Furthermore there are many more factors which determine a person's typing which become more obvious when a trained mystic can personally see you.

SECONDLY it is by peering into the UNIVERSAL TRUTH that I've determined the newest typings are REAL. Other regions, including our sister region (may she be blessed) Johto, and others which we have only whispers of their existence, acknowledge that there's more typings than we currently recognize here in Kanto. Not only should the enlightened person be outraged because that means we're a step behind having the capability of reaching into the UNIVERSAL TRUTH, but that also means that we've been WRONG this entire time! Entire generations of people were given the incorrect horoscopes because we haven't acknowledged that our system needs to be changed to further match with the UNIVERSAL truth. Therefore we also gather behind the illustrious and gentle Kanto grass-gym leader Erika Celadon, who has revealed the truth for everyone instead of jealously keeping hold of it.

For these reasons it has been deemed necessary amongst the editors of Weird Kanto that, in collaboration with the best creatives and enlightened individuals of Kanto and Johto and the Orange Islands, that we restructure the Houses. If you keep reading then we have THE NEWEST and CUTTING EDGE research from renowned scientific sages.

This is tentative. While it pains me to have to write this, it would be best for the readers of Weird Kanto to take these recent horoscopes as more of a light hearted provision rather than the UNIVERSAL TRUTH that we typically attempt to peer into. The reason being that these typings are new! While the best creatives, enlightened individuals, the editing team, and myself have all been hard at work trying to find the true structures of the Houses, it has merely been months for us to adapt. With each edition we'll keep you up to date and fully explain our provisional reasoning. It may be best that if you have a bad memory or are otherwise easily offended by any version of the UNIVERSAL TRUTH being claimed to be provisional, it may be best to give us time to create the most proper horoscopes that we are able. Give us six months and it's most likely that even the hard liners against so-called 'anarchic-typings' will have ceded to the position of the UNIVERSAL TRUTH.

So underneath the light of knowledge and heart culminating within a single being, I would like to present our research:

For the lower centering point of HARMONY, STEADFASTNESS, and the PAST is our humble Lady Normal, representing the 0th position. It is the solid center of which the Houses orbit around.

For the lowest of the ladder yet no less important spiritually, for even the humble house requires its foundation, is the House of Earth: Water in the 1st position, Ground in the 2nd position, Grass in the 3rd position, and Rock in the 4th position. The House of Earth is represented by a dot. It is simultaneously the lowest yet the highest numbers, the lowest yet the closest to our lady Normal, for that is the truth of the House of Earth.

For the second step above the ladder, representing the processes which unlocks the soul and allows for the Houses to interact with one another, is the House of Abundance: Ice in the 5th position, Poison in the 6th position, Bug in the 7th position, and Fire in the 8th position. The House of Abundance is represented by an arrow. It is the processes that allows the houses to interact with one another and is the hardest for amateur soothsayers to comprehend.

For the third step on the ladder as where humanity found their humblest beginnings is the House of Industry: Electricity in the 9th position, Fighting in the 10th position, Psychic in the 11th Position, and Steel in the 12th Position. The House of Industry is represented by a plus or minus sign. It is here that humanity has found their success creating their own environment (whether that be positive or negative) amongst our living world that has allowed us life.

For the fourth step on the ladder is what generally comes to the Great Thinkers of all ages when their inner eye is opened, the House of White: Fairy in the 13th Position, Flying in the 14th Position, Dark in the 15th Position, Dragon in the 16th Position. The House of White is represented by an empty circle that will one day be filled. It is the greatest of houses, yet the least of them. It does exist, yet it does not. Understanding this contradiction allows the mystic to become truly enlightened.

For the highest centering point of VIRILITY, ADAPTABILITY, and the FUTURE is our great Sire Ghost, representing any number that it so pleases. It is simultaneously outside the orbit of the Houses yet everywhere, for it is the inevitable end that the Houses work towards.

As a longtime reader can see, the newest typings actually BALANCE the Houses in a numerically pleasing way, proving our Lady Drachna's theory. So she said: "we'll one day…find the crannies which the devilish Ghost has been hiding them."

STEEL allowed humanity to build their TOOLS. It is part of the House of Industry.

FAIRY is MIRACLE, it is mischief, it is the part of the world that refuses to be captured, it taunts the strong and helps the weak. It is the House of White.

DARK is that too which refuses to be captured, including those parts in our own MINDS, laughing at the strong and laughing at the weak alike. It is also the House of White.

So says the research that our teams have come up with. Further experimentation will prove if our initial Houses are correct as our mystics will use the tools and learn from their mistakes.

Now for the calculation of a person's typing:

DISCLAIMER: REMEMBER that in-person is always better. This process is much more complicated and in-depth than can be captured in the written form. "The spoken word is paramount and has energy in itself," -so said Madame Bedroque.

FOR THE HOUSE OF A PERSON take a map of your region and cut one line vertically down the center, then cut one line horizontally down the center. This will make four quarters of your region: top left the House of Earth, top right the House of Abundance, bottom right the House of Industry, the bottom left the House of White.

First stake out where they live. If you are unsure about where a city falls because it is around a line, then it is more likely this person is Normal or Ghost.

If they have lived in the same place all their life, it is most likely that they belong to the House of the quadrant we've divided them into.

If they have lived an equal amount of time between the place they've come from and the place they're currently at, it is more likely that they belong to the House of the quadrant they're currently in OR the quadrant they've come from. If they moved from a city on a dividing line, then they could be Normal/Ghost.

If they have only recently moved from a place they've lived in a long time, then they are from the House of the quadrant they moved from.

If they move often, it depends on the reasoning. If they move often because of forces outside their control, then they are part of the House of White. If they move often because of their own choices, then they are part of the House of Industry. If they've specifically moved between every quadrant no matter the reason, they are a Ghost-type.

THIS is your House. IF you are Ghost or Normal then you are more likely to be a Ghost or Normal Typing."

That was a little less obvious to her. She was pretty sure that dividing the quadrants with the current borders put her in the House of Earth, but many used the older borders before the war that were slightly different and made her possibly within the dividing line. She didn't like being in the dividing line. Normal and ghost-type people seemed fine, but she liked her typing.

For Red, there was some part thrown into question. Red himself was from Pallet Town, and though she wanted to call him a vagrant for abandoning his position, he was more likely part of the House of Earth; it was dicey however, because if he was still traveling then his entire independent life could be seen as movement. House of Earth or House of Industry—it felt a little wrong sharing a House with a person who'd abandoned their duty but that was sometimes how it worked. Considering Giovanni was definitely in the same quadrant too made her feel a little less proud of her typing.

For the last one however, she had no idea. With how much he'd been moving around for months without any break, she wanted to say that Lane was the House of Industry but she also didn't know his circumstances. Calling him a vagrant felt wrong. Where was he from? If he'd gotten the Lurantis from Alola then was she meant to fully disqualify him as too foreign? Was his home in Johto or Sinnoh? Or was she overthinking it and he indeed had a home somewhere in Kanto? Perhaps he'd always been hiding a psychic-type that could teleport back home. It seemed in character enough that she started giggling about the possibility.

"To find the RANKING within the House,

If your skin is rough (whether by birth or circumstance), then you are of the first typing.

If your hair is a color other than black or brown, then you are of the second typing.

If your skin is fair and hair black/brown, then you are of the third typing.

If your skin is dusky, then you are of the fourth typing.

If you're not mentioned here or you have a very visible birthmark on your face, then you are Ghost, of an unknown position.

If your skin is perfect, or near-perfect, then you are of Normal. If you have a prominent birthmark or freckles, then you are of Ghost. If you have an unusually bright eye color, then you are Normal. If you apply to multiple of these, then you are of Ghost.

Foreigners tend to confound the typings here, and generally shouldn't be assumed to have a typing as we do anyhow."

She'd heard there's been a fight trying to replace the 'dusky skin' and 'foreigners' lines that have created massive battle lines invisible to the layman. Fortunately, she didn't put much stock into it, and those who'd been lumped into the fourth position were of reputable typings anyways: rock, fire, steel, and dragon. Red was questionably the first or third typing depending on the boy's skin—something she wasn't rushing to figure out—whereas she was clearly the archetype imagined for the third position.

What was he though? she asked herself, trying to remember.

Closing her eyes brought back the time they spent together. He was a bit of a peculiar-looking boy; she occasionally had the guilty thought that if you stuck him in a ragged cloak and put a flat cap on him, he'd make a marvelous extra as a poor orphan. It was something about his eternally youthful cheekbones sliding down into a gentle arc, his eyes recessed into a cozy corner of bone and skin that seemed incapable of filling out. Despite his small face further making his features seem more young, there was a definite square outline that stretched from his forehead, bright and wide as a mirror as he generally slicked his bangs away, leading down to his jaw flaring outwards in the shape of a boat's hull—another reason that he looked funny since it didn't seem to match with his relatively genial chin. Once, they were reaching for the same book, and hands too pale, too delicate, accidentally intertwined.

They weren't rough. Yet there was one other thing, noticed only because the women of the region always wanted to maintain that flicker when they burned the brightest: at the roots was a peek at a different person. She wasn't sure why he did it or how it had lasted for so long. Perhaps that was the reason that the fire had started eating away at its fake tinder. She thought he'd look better if he let himself be fully blonde anyways.

"IF YOU ARE YET UNSURE OF YOUR TYPING, then use the following:

If they were born in January to March, they are the FIRST typing, or of the House of Earth.

If they were born in April to June, they are part of the SECOND typing, or of the House of Abundance.

If they were born in July to September, they are part of the THIRD typing, or of the House of Industry.

If they were born in October to December, they are part of the FOURTH typing, or of the House of White.

The following are for confirming if you are a Ghost or Normal typing:

If they were under a new moon, then they can be Ghost or Normal, leaning on Ghost.

If they were under a full moon, then they can be Normal or Ghost, leaning on Normal.

If they are a twin, had a traumatic event on the day of their birth, or had a strange birth, then they are absolutely NOT any typing in this House and more likely Ghost or Normal, for the House attempted to eject them."

February fourth—easily the House of Earth. From an interview that she read through, she knew that Red was August 8th, the House of Industry! She felt good pinning him down there because being an electric or fighting-type would make too much sense. What she couldn't say was what his birthday was because of his relative reclusiveness and, heck, she didn't even know his exact age! With only her wits as her guide, she felt as though the best hint was that his birthday hadn't been mentioned since she'd first seen him, cutting off the House of Abundance; furthermore, he hadn't complained about being sent off to a foreign region, which maybe cut off the House of Industry. It was weak reasoning but she stuck with him either being the House of Earth or House of White.

Earth, third position, earth—she was quite literally the archetypical grass-type, and she'd known that for her entire life.

Red was a little bit harder however. It felt right saying that he was the House of Industry while the House of Earth remains an open possibility, personally leaning on the House of Industry because of her slight vendetta; the second was the first or third again; the third was definitely Industry unless she was mistaken. She wanted to believe that Red getting down and dirty in the wilderness necessitated that he had calloused hands, though she could also admit that a slight bias may exist in pigeon-holing Red into an electric-type. It sounded too perfect!

Lane? Absolutely no definite answer.

It was around then that she realized there was a solution. Going outside her room brought her to the landline phone. Picking it up made her feel a little silly about what she was about to do, but who cared? She was off the clock.

The other side picked up.

"This is the grass gym. How can I help you?" a deep voice asked.

"Hey, this is Erika. I realized that I had incorrect paperwork in the pile that was supposed to be sent out over here. Can you double-check the form that we had Lane fill out? I need his birthday and place of residence." She was absent-mindedly twirling the cord around her finger, effortlessly sounding casual. "Can you get it done right now? I'd like to quickly finish this since it's meant to be my day off."

There was a really long pause. "Yeah, aren't you supposed to be off, Celadon-sama? I thought that Yoko-san kicked you out."

The twirling became a little more violent. She held a finger up on her lips as if they could see one another. "Let's keep this as a little secret between us."

Rifling came from the other side.

"Got it here. Not sure you're going to like it though. There's December 24th with a little note next to it claiming, 'maybe,' and the only designation that we have for his place of residence is Good Home. Are we allowed to give suggestions, Celadon-sama? Because I think that he should be severely reprimanded until he understands the woe of being a desk jockey—better yet, you think that he's a good fit for these dangerous missions? I think that rounding out his talents would be just as well. Caution comes first, as they say."

"Thank you, Lily, though it seems you have gone ahead and told me your opinion before I asked for it," Erika said wryly.

"You're welcome. Please enjoy your time off. You work too much."

"Thank you for your continued unsolicited advice, Lily," Erika said in amusement.

"At your service, Celadon-sama."

The click at the end of the line didn't come with any greater answers. Really, it was bad on her for assuming that everyone had normal town names like their corner of the world; Good Home, Alola, could be one of the most common addresses for that corner of the world opposite to their corner of the world. The birthday being questionably fabricated grit against her nerves, yet still provided a clue that felt correct: House of White, especially for a person so wan. Yet it would still be better that she have definite confirmation. There had to be a person in the world who knew where the boy had come from other than Red's deadpan, "hell, I'd assume," from a talk that she'd had before the two had left.

Tapping on her head was meant to get the blood up there flowing. She was a gym leader who helped the police occasionally, for goodness sakes! She should have an idea or two about sleuthing! Calling upon her memories brought a realization that she knew an awful lot about him otherwise: he'd been an instrument of Red's meteoric rise, traveled across with the boy until they separated down in Fuschia for reasons she wasn't sure of, spent quite a few weeks with Blaine, got a contract from Oak to sell the pokédexes (which she honestly still didn't see too much use for besides teaching people of the updated typings), and then…there! She definitely couldn't say that she knew the past few months of any other of her girls' lives. It was a bit of a quaint revelation that had been shoved aside when another connection was made. She only had to hope that the man picked up.

Waiting, waiting, redialing, waiting, eventually bore fruit with the satisfying sound of an opposing click as the call connected with a landline far away.

"Hello?" there came a groggy voice.

"Blaine? This is Erika." She hesitated, before broaching, "is this a good time?"

"Completely fine!" he yelled. She could hear clattering and boiling on the other side, all those sounds which belonged in a lab. "Sorry, sorry! I've been running myself ragged over—ah, I'm not going to talk your ear off when you called for a reason—nobody calls old Blaine without a reason. What do you need?"

She kind of felt like she should try to reassure him but felt that it would've been more insulting considering she did have a reason to speak. "Did you know that I hired Lane? I've heard that he spent quite some time over in Cinnabar."

"Was I one of his references?" Blaine asked.

Erika wryly noted the pride that seeped from his voice. It was a weird question anyhow. They'd been going through a region-changing shift and it sounded as if Blaine didn't know the people who created the maelstrom in the first place.

"Goodness, Blaine, I knew that you were rather disconnected with mainland news, but this is ridiculous. Are you aware that we have a new Champion who's ditched his position?" she joked.

"Don't treat me like I'm decrepit! Of course I have! I'll have you know that I'm the one primarily bearing the brunt of the paperwork that needs a Champion's approval! And before you ask, this is not flubbing the paperwork for ease of use. There is a provision that the strongest gym leader by vote can fill in the Champion's position if there's any great need during a transition and, I don't know if you heard, that's me! Don't get snappy with me, Erika!"

She bowed lightly, legitimately. "My deepest apologies, Blaine. Having a day off must've loosened my tongue far more than it should've."

There was a grunt on the other side. "You said that you hired Lane? Sounds like his brand of teasing that edges on acceptability—all you're missing is the nonsensical references that are intentionally made for nobody to recognize. Say, you haven't been spending time with him, have you?"

The question was pointed enough that she had to pull away from the phone for a moment to clear her throat.

"Um, you see," a sigh was her capitulation, "yes, I have. I confess that maybe we've been talking a bit more than proper between a boss and her subordinate, but I wouldn't think that any of his habits would rub off on me within such a short time."

"Never underestimate that sort of thing. Within any amount of time, you can see how much another person being nearby changes how you act. Ah, hosting him and Marley was the most fun I've had in a while! It also helped that they didn't have any reason to visit! They came and would talk for talking's sake!" There was a bit of silence. "I accept your apology, Erika. Here's some advice: I assume that you're relatively isolated because of your position, because of how much you work, because—is it true that your gym only hires women? I'll take it as true—and that shows something: you need to change."

This was the part where in a counter apology for getting angry in the first place, he was going to impart some wisdom that he'd otherwise keep close to his chest. She frowned, wedging the phone between her cheek and shoulder. "I don't understand."

"It's like I said: here comes along a boy who's a little bit off, which probably seems like the world to you. I know how he acts. He doesn't care about your position, he's a boy and I think that I remember your family doesn't even have any men close to your age, he's different from the archetype that you look for in your gym, and probably quite strange from anyone that you've met before! You're people-starved, Erika! You're young! Live a little! And in that living a little, don't be afraid to have workplace relationships! Let me be the first to tell you that having a huge fight with people you're forced to work with isn't very fun, but are you going to trudge to work everyday with people that you hardly know?"

"I know my girls," she defended.

"And do you commonly get into the same kind of conversations that you had with Lane, that apparently are enjoyable enough for you to pick up on his habits?" It was a smug pause that allowed her to scowl. "So like I said: enjoy your time with him and get some more friends that are around your age! Doesn't matter if they're your position or not, as long as you can talk to them like friends. And one last piece of advice: you're not Lane. He's a vagrant child. You're a gym leader of a respected family. Act like one, as you have much further to fall. Now what did you call for? I don't want to waste even more time jabbering your ear off."

"Oh, it's no trouble. You've given me something to think of, at the very least. I was actually asking if Lane had given you any sort of personal details—age, birthday, residence, anything. He's apparently been playing hooky with the paperwork and we have a bunch of intentionally inaccurate details here."

"Why don't you just ask him?" he asked.

Surprisingly there was yet another sassy retort that she needed to snip out. "He's in another region right now. I can tell you later if you're interested, or tell him to call you. Do you have the capability of having interregion calls?"

"Those are extremely expensive to install so I put a pin on it. Should've listened to Oak…" he mumbled. "You're saying anything definite that could be put on a sheet? I remember that he mentioned how he's very far out of region and right now is living somewhere near to Kanto. I believe that he's changed his age a few times when talking to Marley too—aggravating, truly. I'm never sure when he's talking genuinely or not."

"I think that he said that he wasn't from Alola either when he was talking to Mina. It sounds as if he's honest with that at least. Thanks, Blaine." She yanked on the cord a few times. Apparently she wasn't meant to do that because the wires getting pulled could extend the amount of distance that the call had to travel through, creating connection issues. "This isn't normal, is it?"

"Are you referring to his avoidance of talking straight in general, or more specifically that he hasn't divulged anything substantial about himself? Because either or are signs of an interesting life. Like I said, I got a good feeling about the kid when he was over here. I'm willing to believe that he's doing it for much less serious reasons than you can be thinking of. Trust me with that. People have interesting lives they sometimes don't want others to know about."

With a few more farewells the call disconnected with new hints gathered: he may be living near Kanto currently but comes from out of region. Thinking of that brought another thread that made her trawl back to her closet where multiple shoeboxes were hidden behind her casual set of clothes: organized issues, from her favorites to the ones just barely saved from the recycling bin. Digging around in them took about an hour before she found the excerpt that she wanted, coincidentally from the woman's sister who wrote for the same magazine before founding her own (failing) newspaper company.

"To, Weird Kanto

I've been happily married for years but have recently become worried about my children's relationships because they've finally entered that age where these things become more serious, and I want a steady hand in making sure they get nice boys and girls. This has been a big help in soothing my worries and weeding out potential candidates but has made me aware of so many more issues that I hadn't even known about. Chiefly, typings! The local practitioner has been a big help with the process of getting a good partner for my kids but has become really stubborn with my husband.

You see, he's not from around here. I don't mean to say Johto, Sinnoh, Hoenn, the Orange Island—really far. And when she found out that I had married a person away from Kanto, she hasn't let go that my husband doesn't have a typing because he isn't blessed by the purview of the birds of our region. I understand that they're essential parts to our spiritual life and bestow upon us the boons that make our people so great, but she's been pushy! She's gone so far as to say that our marriage is annulled because I haven't married a person with a full soul!

I don't know what to do! She's still helping but won't let that part go! Is she correct? Do people away from the birds not have real souls? I'm not sure what to do!

Sincerely,

a concerned housewife.

To, a concerned housewife.

I understand the frustration that can come from a disagreement like this. I'll be the first to tell you that if you're no longer vibing with whatever spiritual conduit that's in your life, drop them. This is no longer the age where we're dependent on a singular authority for matters as important as these. We've always known that the Universal Truth includes the ability of our minds to manipulate the physical world, which thus means that when there's a conflict in your ideas, there will soon be a conflict in your life. Avoid such a fate by cutting off this person! Your ability to reach out and ask for a new path shows you as able to feel out a more reputable person who more closely matches your enlightenment.

As for your husband, here is what the general consensus is: we do, as a matter of fact, have fuller souls than those born out of region, but it's a misconception to treat them as less than human. What it could rather be seen as is being born underneath the birds' auspices awakens the potential that exists in every single soul. Your husband isn't less human; his soul certainly is less powerful than your own however, and that's the reason that those outside the region struggle so much with the spiritual power our region provides. Even the greatest approaches have disagreements fermenting within them, as that's the problem of peering into the Ultimate Truth: one side started by the venerable Dr. Jingo Star is that through the osmosis of being around greater souls, the long-term visitor of Kanto can hope to awaken their own potential; the other side, and this is where the common history gets wrong assuming this came first, is generally represented by the giant Zen Zepparin, who says that while equal in most matters, the outsider can never hope to fully become one with Kanto.

The ABSOLUTE most recent position that this author endorses is that the vast majority of those outside our chain of regions are the House of White, for they are lost children in every sense of the word. Remember: the Earth is the eternal foundation, White the eternal principles. Though some have advocated that the savageness makes the foreigner part of the Earth, that makes the implication that the foreigner can only access the House of Earth and is forever locked from higher existence, which we know isn't true: for it is only through the existence of the soul that the Earth interacts with eternal principles. Yet as many venerable sages have noted since we've made contact with these regions, they have powers lesser than our own, yet just as strange to us as ours are for them. Therefore, it is better to assume that they're part of the House of White than the House of Earth. They have the ability to discern forms beyond their heads without the other Houses which ground them, leaving us under the auspices of the birds as the truest, most rounded group of people in the world.

There is no worry with your kids and with your husband. Best case scenario, he has woken up to his hidden potential. Worst case, he'll always be disconnected from the Universal Truth, which is fine in most matters with you there to guide him. Don't expect him to understand the spiritual dimension however. Don't be surprised if talking about the Universal Truth around him seems to be a more effective sleep aid than his sleeping pills!

Hoping for the best,

Dr. Krystal Krishnamaruti"

The reason that she'd saved the issue was that the original palm reader also read Weird Kanto and instantly recognized herself. Within fifteen issues a region-wide drama continued as she defended her position and reignited a simmering debate about the role of outsiders (because it'd eventually drifted away from their status as souled and into why they existed in the first place), which only ended when the editors finally put their foot down to firmly state Weird Kanto's advanced metaphysics on the issue. Erika wanted to reread the whole drama again. She would like to believe that outsiders could gain a full soul too, and that they had a reason to exist other than being background dressing.

It also read romantically, where the parent was trying so hard to get a better future for her kids by having an arranged marriage, trying hard to eliminate as much friction as she could, enough that this irruption that shook the mystical world could be caused by a seemingly innocuous cause, as if caring for your children could be so mild! The subtext also read to her like the husband was a great counterpart who stood firm despite being part of the House of White, with a wife who connected him with the spiritual dimension—along with being a handsome foreigner! Lovingly delightful, enough that she found herself rooting for this woman and swooning every time that she remembered the drama.

The point is that there was actually an assumption she could make: Lane most likely being a foreigner made him House of White.

"Flying," she muttered to herself, fingers rubbing the edge of the page. Flipping it made her start excitedly digging her toes into the bed.

"Before we start with our listing of the typings, it is to bear in mind that these are not whole character reviews. Though Normal sounds virtuous and Dark sounds evil, it is important to remind people that these are your SOULS, the START of your existence. They are what your world is built upon. A Normal scoundrel will know that he's doing wrong and revel in it. A Dark hero will uncover a conspiracy that a well-regarded figure has been entangled within. Every part of the Houses are meant to compliment one another.

NORMAL: Our Lady, the monolith, who is all things yet certainly herself. She is the reason that humans can feel the differences between the typings by giving an archetypal foreground for differences to be felt. She is the past, which gives us the area where we can expect the future.

Those of Normal-typing are stalwartly moral. They have a very strong good/evil axis that is unbendable. Their idea of morals underlies everything they do.

WATER: The 1st position of the House of Earth, and the 1st typing. The basis of life.

Those of Water-typing are the nurturers, who embrace others and make them better.

GROUND: The 2nd position of the House of Earth, and the 2nd typing. The basis of which everything is built upon.

Those of Ground-typing are steadfast, of which a person who you haven't seen in 18 years can be the exact same in another 18.

GRASS: The 3rd position of the House of Earth, and the 3rd typing. That which provides food for the whole world.

Those of Grass-typing understand they are part of a community and value it above all else.

ROCK: The 4th position of the House of Earth, and the 4th typing. That which gives the ground beneath us character.

Those of Rock-typing are imposing figures which seem a supernatural presence in themself. Their personalities seem immutable, because nothing can make a mountain move other than the mountain's will.

ICE: The 1st position of the House of Abundance, and the 5th typing. That which gives the world an important dynamic, the cold that can and will destroy.

Those of Ice-typing love the past and forcefully work towards destroying the future—whether it is harmful or not.

POISON: The 2nd position of the House of Abundance, and the 6th typing. That which clears the excesses of life and darkens the ground.

Those of Poison-typing understand the limits of humans and fight against their excesses. They can at times see life itself as anathema.

BUG: The 3rd position of the House of Abundance, and the 7th typing. That which is the essential link between higher beings and the lower ones.

Those of Bug-typing love the small. They are obsessed with details, what usually slips underneath people's attentions.

FIRE: The 4th position of the House of Abundance, and the 8th typing. That which gives the world an important dynamic, a heat that can and will destroy.

Those of Fire-typing love the future and forcefully work towards destroying the past—whether it is harmful or not.

ELECTRICITY: The 1st position of the House of Industry, and the 9th typing. Harnessing it had spurred on the discovery of the House of Industry.

Those of Electric-typing are always moving. The essence of movement. If they are not moving then it is antithetical to their existence.

FIGHTING: The 2nd position of the House of Industry, and the 10th typing. The essence of fighting back. Argued to be in the 9th typing instead.

Those of Fighting-typing are hope itself. To say that they can lay down in defeat is a contradiction.

PSYCHIC: The 3rd position of the House of Industry, and the 11th typing. The essence of thought. Argued to be in the 12th typing instead.

Those of Psychic-typing conceptualize the world. They acknowledge and embrace that they are seeing the world as metaphors.

STEEL: The 4th position of the House of Industry, and the 12th typing. The essence of artificial creation. Solidifying what isn't solid.

Those of Steel-typing create. What doesn't exist, they make exist.

FAIRY: The 1st position of the House of White, and the 13th typing. Imagination, mania, weakness, faith.

Those of Fairy-typing feel connected with something beyond them.

FLYING: The 2nd position of the House of White, and the 14th typing. Freedom, neuroticism, weakness, self-assuredness.

Those of Flying-typing cannot imagine a world where they are not free.

DARK: The 3rd position of the House of White, and the 15th typing. Subversion, suppression, strength, willful ignorance.

Those of Dark-typing see contradictions where others see wholes.

DRAGON: The 4th position of the House of White, and the 16th typing. Kingliness, oppression, strength, full actualization.

Those of Dragon-typing are masters of this world, yet will most likely fail to see beyond the veil, because in their mastery is an obsession with the physical.

GHOST: Our Great Sire, he who subsumes everything, for there is not a concept or soul that can escape from his grasp, who is everything and questionably himself. Our Great Sire is the ultimate of all typings as is Normal.

Those of Ghost-typing see little purpose in the physical world, because they can feel there's something beyond the veil."

Erika spent a good amount of time rereading the new definitions before flipping to the next page. She read through the horoscopes with a smile, already knowing the sentence that'd be at the start of the page:

"Those typings which have a weakness to another have more potential for a strong relationship, though that is due to the volatility of their bond. It is through the bond having potential that it can sour or turn envelop one another very easily. In the opposite principle, those which are strong to one another have little chance for a strong relationship to take root."

"Is that so?" she mumbled to herself. At some point she started humming, reading down with her legs absently kicking.

"AS WE ENTER THE HOROSCOPES, what we are certain about is the discovery of the new typings (our strongest argument for the so-called anarchic-typings to be real) has further given credit towards the PROGENITOR'S CALENDAR, created an unknown dating ago replicated in the various ruins that can be found across Kanto, alongside Johto and Sinnoh. If one remembers, our old interpretation was that the sages had intended for there to be blank spots remaining for the discovery/creation of new typings. At the time we'd expected for there to be a new House that'd be discovered. It's with great pleasure that thanks to the cutting edge research of the Three Initiates (Dr. Uriamu W. Atkonison, Dr. Seron Q. Dyumon, and Yogi Ramacharaka have this author's highest recommendation for the forerunners of the esoteric arts) that we've tentatively linked the new typings to the Progenitor's Calendar!

This is NEW, EXCLUSIVE information of the next epoch, which previously we had too little information to predict. Thanks to the Progenitor's Calendar, these may be the most accurate horoscopes that we'll ever create. Remember that this epoch ends in the next ten years, and the important dates are March 20th (the pinnacle of Ice), May 20th (the pinnacle of Poison), August 20th (the Pinnacle of Bug) and December 20th when the Calendar ends and a new epoch begins.

NORMAL: According to the calendar, it is soon the epoch of the strong. The strong will rule and the weak will retreat. What was once thought of as safe retreats will become maws of spitting fire. Above all will reign a single being, an idea, a living thing, a great sceptre, which will break the back of the meek and hard-minded. Normal will be destroyed and in its place will be a new Normal.

For those of Normal typing, you may face many dilemmas that you will be unfamiliar with. It is at times like these that it should be reminded that thinking yourself as a moral being doesn't make you understand morals as a whole; you will be faced with novel situations that nobody in Kanto has faced before. It would be wise to find flexibility. Learn, keep wary, keep your loved ones close, prepare for turbulent times, but not necessarily bad ones. Those who can keep themselves above the tides will find a new city waiting for them, a throne that will assure a happy future for you and your progeny.

Those who are the greatest will carve out their name on the throne. Those who are wise will lift those who cannot rise above the waves, yet drown themselves. Those who are strong will lift themselves, watching as those they love are devastated. Those who are too rigid or unprepared will find the world they once loved washed away. It doesn't merely take a wise person, nor a strong one, nor preparation, but everything that you can muster to find riches that only the greatest people can taste.

WATER: For your lips to be clean of lies, it is now the time to learn. Kanto, because we are birthed with a sign and underneath the grace of the birds, has understood the role that learning has with improving our land and made it open to everyone long ago. You are already of the most flexible typings. Use it positively by linking yourself with a less dynamic typing such as Ground, Rock, even Dragon at this moment. Grass and Steel are uniquely opportune typings to become acquainted with at this moment.

GROUND: No matter what, you are still the bedrock of the world. If a civilization would get swept away, you would still remain. It does not hurt to prepare yourself however; dirt just as often gets tamped down. Take special effort to guard your belongings and you will be rewarded. As is often the case, it would be best not to expect praise. Be wary of Normal, Fire, and Flying types during this time. Avoid Electric at all costs. The former are not of your mindset. The latter actively is attacking you to your detriment.

GRASS: You are in the unique position where you're unsteady yet graceful. Like Normal, this is both an opportunity for great change and great loss. Uniquely, you are not in a zero-sum situation, and can equally protect your position if you so desire. As you more than likely aren't an ambitious person, don't worry! It's easy to maintain yourself and those you've spread your roots towards. For those rare ambitious grass-types, you need a counterpart if you want to spread out while retaining your roots. Fire and Flying are your friends. AVOID Ice and Bug at all costs. They will lift you up while gnawing on your roots."

She wanted to continue pretending. She wanted to read through every single one and pretend that she wasn't digging her toes deeper into the sheets with each second of wait. It was too much! Anticipation made the payoff better, but she was dying to see it. Her eyes even flicked past the other horoscope that she was curious about. Skip the fat, then go back to the fat because the fat tasted good, and nobody was there to judge it slipping from the sides of your lips anyhow.

"FLYING: The new world is made for you. More nooks and crannies than ever existed before will breed the Bugs, more perches will be created; yet so too your familiar environments will be usurped. Take care in the incoming future to keep your talons from becoming tangled in barbed wire. To do this, you have three options: now may be a good time to move if you were considering it; pair with more like-minded typings (Fighting, Fairy, Dark, Electric) who will become your flock; and/or find yourself in the embrace of your typical opposites (Rock, Grass, Ice) where your pasts will become one. AVOID at all costs Steel and Psychic, as they are actively working against your mission."

The magazine was shoved underneath her bed as she stuffed her face into its fluff. When she released herself, blinks of spots were trailing across her eyes.

Opening it again felt a little too brazen. She skipped ahead, then stopped, then tried going back, then went over to get another edition so she could read through the old drama again. The rest of the horoscopes were interesting, yet she was telling herself that it'd be better if she could focus on something, despite it being a day off. Then she made herself a cup of tea and went back to reading the current edition.

That magazine was added to her pile of saved ones. It was a historic watershed. And for the rest of her day she fully enjoyed the hours of privacy before she walked outside, assuming the guise of perfection.

Chapter Text

T-Minus 1 Month and 5 Days​

"Alright, I get it. Big ol' Ha—nah, saying that sounds weird even if nobody is listening; big ol' Lane, or Kane, is a big, stupid idiot who continuously walks into interesting places which are 'interesting' because they're also 'dangerous'. How was I supposed to know that this was going to happen? We're in the middle of the city for goodness sake! People don't randomly get attacked by pokémon like this unless, I don't know, they're interesting! I'm literally in the middle of the city! I get that you were trying to warn me, Lulu, but how was I supposed to know that there were danged pokémon ready to spring a trap on me? I was just getting kind of bored sitting around and what better way was I supposed to use my off-time? Ugh, don't look at me like that. This is not my fault for once! I'll take the blame for a lot of other stuff but this is blatantly not my fault! Look, Roxanne was right about a lot of other things but you can't blame me for this!"

Kane thumped his head against the wall that he was leaning on. At least the place he was sitting had a good view, clouds rolling high above through the little slit that he could see them through. Lulu was on his lap giving a judgemental stare.

"Uggh, I should've brought more pokémon but it feels really awkward carting them around when we're gonna say goodbye pretty soon. Speaking of, what're we gonna do with Quagsire? Do I add him to the team?" Lulu chittered her agreement, getting a small frown from him. "I don't really see the point though? I'm willing to defer to your judgement, but I don't see the point of getting a full team if I'm not going to use it. Not going to lie, I kind of neglect the other guys on my team. Heck, I still don't know Cottonee's full moveset. Is it a he? Or a she? Nod for he and shake your head for she." She nodded. "Okay, he's he. Got it. Point is that I kind of also don't know how to take care of him and don't feel like I have the time to figure it out like I did with you. Adding another member on my plate feels like a bad idea. Ugh."

His heels bounced against the chipped tiles.

"You know what? Trap or not, this is getting boring. Waiting for you to be ready to Knock Off again will just waste time. What say you to making good on her offer?"

T-Minus 1 Month and 5 Days​

Roxanne did not consider herself the ways that acquaintances saw her, those did not consider her the same way that the public saw her, coworkers amongst her gym did not see her the same way that fellow archeologists saw her, and close friends did not see her the same that she saw herself—not a strange situation, as the vast majority of interactions contains only a glimpse of a single set of behaviors within a certain set of situations which begs for certain interactions anyhow ("can I get a number 5?" she'd ask, because breaking the script in a fast food simply should be illegal) and making it so even the most observant won't have a handle of a person's personality so much as they'd otherwise think; however, it must bear stating if there was a person who had 'too many' in their panoply of interpretations, then it'd be Roxanne. Part of this was because of how many cameras she allowed at so many angles. There was the graceful erudite woman who stalked through the halls of the school with purpose and would always keep an ear open despite her booked schedule, past which most of the students' only interactions would be her impressive lectures; there was the sharp, tactful woman who'd gladly pull up a teacher if they were of the right mind and gladly give you a flat glare if she considered your reasoning as to why you needed a substitute for a meeting superfluous; there was the strong gym leader who made sure everyone who fought against her left with a lesson, win or lose; there were the many subordinates who were left crying because of how harsh she could be. It wasn't uncommon for a conversation between two people was referring to different women both with the name of Roxanne.

It was less of a conscious effort on her part (better put as no effort at all, as it's conscious effort which unifies all the different personalities in the same way that people like Erika and Lance do—it's a much more common trait back on the mainland) than the result of consciously acquiring duties in lieu of accepting them. No gym leader had to work beyond their main job. It was passion and a hands-on drive that led her to fully immerse herself into the archeological community, and it was a long-winded philosophy that nobody knew the entirety of which made her want to pass down knowledge to the next generation, and it was a protective instinct which made her dote—as much as that word could apply to scolding—on whoever found themselves underneath her wing, and it was a combination of her work ethic and a peculiar lack of empathy which made it hard for her to understand how others could do less than her. This could go thousands of layers wide and shifting as the ocean's, deep as the darkest trenches, either of the greatest or laziest detail to produce an imperfect picture of the woman who was leaning forwards with her attention fully captured by the television.

She still had time to herself somehow. Being a gym leader was not a casual obligation. Neither were her 'hobbies' considered as such by most people, rather fully-fledged jobs themselves. For this reason, shortly, her usual year has to be considered: after the first burst of trainers when the gyms open for another season, the only trainers that come by are those that need advice for later fights, shyer ones that finally nibble at the hook of pokémon, and the handful that were delayed for whatever reason. Archeology wasn't a casual hobby! Going out and finding fossils required staking out a dig site and then making the preparations to practically disappear for a month. School itself had seasons too, along with her not being a fully-fledged teacher—'guest lecturer' was her full title and reneged her obligation to create homework.

Thus you could segment her year pretty neatly as thus: two months at most of consistent, constant gym battles from dawn past dusk until her duties cooled down. Then, if there were enough sites, she'd spend ideally three months (generally it was only one, as she specifically was interested in pokémon fossils) traveling to a dig so she wouldn't have to wait for her magazine, Archeologists' Conservancy, to give her the 'latest' discoveries a few months down the line. Around another three to five months would be dedicated to various lectures which were dedicated either to interesting work that she'd done or a topic she'd grown fond of.

It sounded like a lot, but tallying up her weeks of straight off time would leave her with multiple months of vacation by the end of the year. The only rough part was that there'd pretty much be around three (optimistically) to five (still optimistically, as she would never scorn work) months where a day off would be rare.

With that season's gym battles starting to peter out, she was given a rare moment where no pressing matters required her attention. Busybody some may think, there were activities that she enjoyed yet rarely had the ability to partake. 'Lowbrow' may be one way to explain them. She hated the term. She didn't like dividing one activity from the other. Either it was or wasn't socially acceptable, and if it wasn't wasn't then it was socially acceptable and therefore fine. Lazing around on the couch was only bad if you grew addicted to the feeling and reneged on duties somewhere else.

"Get him! Get him! No! Don't let him slip past you!" she roared, pumping her fists with each of the muscular man's whiffed grabs. Equally enthusiastic pokémon were making a cacophony which could only be tolerated because her neighbors were out working. "Get him! Get him! Yes? Yes! Yes yes yes!

The piledrive had amped up the noise to intolerable levels for those who weren't used to it. Golem rolled onto his back while Aggron's hands slapped his belly while grating laughter scraped the walls.

Making modifications to her house was essential when rock-types were her speciality. Instead of a living room with creatures comforts laid a place that could've been mistaken for an insane asylum if it weren't for the hanging photographs—black and white pictures of buildings from strange angles, asking of which'll get you a brief history of the constructivist movement along with gushing why parallel staircases working opposite to each other was genius. Smoothed concrete and furniture that could be used as cover against bullets were the main decorations that dotted around the place, with a clear wooden line where you can and cannot be rowdy denoting the rest of the house. Built into the walls was a tougher material too, as she liked to be equally prepared for off-chance scenarios—clumsiness, anger and the like. It wasn't sympathy that made her prepare for such inevitabilities: it was that she knew perfection could never be attained. If she couldn't reach it, then she shouldn't expect it from others.

It gave her pokémon plenty of opportunity to get equally invested in the cage fight that was slowly playing into Macho N's plan. Pokémon stomped and howled, smashed their fists against the floor dramatically as they cried in sympathetic pain. She always believed in him, especially over his opponent, one step removed from the ape's evolution. So far her thesis worked: whoever trained under Chuck became a prodigy. Either it was the man's touch or a heavy self-selection effect that gave each of his students the talent to succeed.

The ringtone was nearly lost underneath all the noise. It was only because of the buzzing against her hip that she noticed there was an incoming call. Debating on pausing the show or stepping outside, she decided that her pokémon didn't deserve to lose the opportunity to see art happen on screen—that, and she was still a bit offended that any of her pokémon weren't Macho N fans, deserving to watch as their own idol was broken over his knee. The biting air reminded of Fall raising its haunches. Raising the phone up to her ear brought it above the screaming pokémon that were still clearly audible.

She really wasn't expecting him to already be in trouble, which made her present-self scold her past-self; within a single month he'd gotten in nearly as much trouble as the dynamic duo of gym leader-boy and scientist-girl. Interesting trainers forcibly inserted themselves into interesting situations. She remembered her own follies. She remembered all the foolish vigilantism and exploration that conveniently were never brought up around impressionable kids.

"Kane? Are you okay?" she asked, assuming that something had gone wrong.

The assumption was a bit offensive but he considered himself in a dire enough situation that some offense could be taken. "I'm not sure? I know that I'm currently being trapped by a pokémon but I'm not really sure to what end yet. Felt that it'd be better that I be safe than not so, ta-dah~. Please don't scold me. I literally was minding my own business taking my, my, myself for a walk and got trapped in here."

"Where?"

"You know that poison site next to the school?" Her silence was oppressive, felt through the speakers. "Eh heh, yeah. Um, maybe not the best idea to take a walk here? I swear that this is serious though. I'm pretty sure it's a psychic-type pokémon that's messing with me."

Which shouldn't be at a site notorious for its poison-types.

"I'm coming over. Don't get yourself more involved. And when you're out, we're going to talk about what areas are and are not walkable," she said. The retort was cut out as she jabbed down on the disconnect button. With a deep breath she went back inside to be the bearer of bad news. Most were actually okay with it, knowing that the rest of the fight would be their idol getting beaten down.

Flying cut through the immense amount of stoplights that littered Rustboro in a confusing mess of traffic—too much considering that only 20% of their population owned a car. Landing at the curb gave her a moment to fully embrace the situation.

The ruin was once a police station, though she wouldn't think less of those who couldn't believe the truth. The first layer stood as an impressive wall complete with its portcullis of an iron gate, meant to be locked at all times. Of course it had been hatched, and vandals had cut through the chains so many times that the authorities had practically given up; once on a moonlit night there'd be a rookie officer trusted with wrapping a new cheap chain around its massive bars, slick with rust that they seemed dripping with magma, with a padlock engraved with the name of the most generous donor that year. It eventually would join the many others that had been nabbed by the local teenagers. Past that wall would be a sandy path that worked around the building's circumference, usually used by children walking to school (Puffton, named after a man obsessed with Jigglypuff, a nickname rather than his actual name, whose good will and hearty laugh was distinctly remembered by two generations who only saw his picture) during the mornings when the remaining towers' skeletons would cast groggy shadows across the street.

It was a historical oddity where old pictures would depict it with rose bushes and desert roses freely growing as if there were no gardeners to manicure them. Past the path that crunched underneath her soles were clumps of dirt that pinched together in little mesas, clay-like, with spots of texture coating the surface like mold, a pervasive smell that asserted itself above the stuffy factories that were nearby. They would press against the walls like tsunamis, crowds bustling over a catwalk to have a touch of their favorite celebrity. It was a historical and modern conspiracy; perhaps it was the factories illegally dumping, perhaps it was such and so gang which took revenge once the police had already left, with Roxanne's personal theory being years of dumping back when the exultation of efficiency had overtaken the region (when the laws were more loose, as if the smelly glowing barrels would act as an efficient fertilizer) and left pockets of poison as gifts for future generations, with her best evidence being the continued saga of underground pipes piercing through some new mineral that eviscerated livers or brain tissues. And so consequences ran against the pipes transmitting water according to principles that'd disturb the native ground-types the least, slipping beneath and penetrating the whole of human accomplishments in the region—not small in the slightest, not to the people who created them nor the phone calls that transmitted between the hospital to their patients, nor to those who maintained the skeletal system, and even to those who didn't understand the thousands of transvascular operations that happened beneath their feet.

Either way, the previously lush gardens—which had previously, a previously long ago, been a field attached to a hamlet, a favorite to confess your feelings over a picnic—had been sanded down to their base materials, into a permanent sludgy feeling that belonged to the runoff of a gutter. Past that was the castle's second wall, turned as such when the ceiling had collapsed. The structural integrity of the central rooms that looked like a panopticon were judged sturdy enough to leave them alone, leaving an imposing tower that had different interpretations: a modern castle, a coliseum, a blight that should've been sold to a private developer already, a tasteful public art piece. All of the fixtures had been stripped too, leaving an open doorway for her to carefully step past.

Circling around the central compound were rooms and hallways of various sizes, none having doors. It was only the built-in metal slabs that protected the inner part and generally found itself as the nest of whatever pokémon could nudge their way inside. The poison had worked its way inside the building too as no weeds had risen. It felt ominous to her being in a room without a ceiling. Scuttles came from deeper inside as a reminder that there was an audience once you entered their home.

She glanced at the floor plan inscribed in a plastic monolith. It made the area look like a necklace with beads laced through it, hanging off the neck of a gigantic head. Any of the rooms denoting 'break room' and 'sector c' had long lost prominence.

Assuming that her junior wasn't moronic enough to try entering the center area, she circled around until there was the familiar boy, squatting down with his back leaning on the wall. He boredly double-checked that his phone didn't only have Tetris installed.

Finally seeing another face made him happily wave.

"Hey-o. Situation: I have a pokémon that knows dark-type moves that I was using to carve through a bunch of psychic walls before realizing that something was wrong, 'cause by the fifth one it definitely was intentional. I then," the tile that he threw shattered when trying to ascend past the walls, "did that and then I called you. And now you're here!"

She absorbed the information without reacting. Knocking on the air behind herself made physical contact. There wasn't a sound when her nail scratched against the air. She'd been trapped too. Walking ahead joined them together. They'd lowered the wall just to trap her, she mused to herself.

"Kane, I need you to be honest: how many potentially life-threatening situations have you gotten involved in?" she asked.

"Pokémon related?" Her stoic glare upkept, making him grin. "Not that many, honest. I tried doing a shortcut back home and got in a pickle. Um, there was a girl who kind of seemed scary, but I'm not sure if she was actually going to hurt me? And I fell off a boat but it's not like those were Gyrados-infested waters, and there was a strong pokémon, and I technically fought against Team Rocket once, and there was that time they could've fought me but I talked them out of it. Most of these are kind of reaches though."

Her leer had turned icier the more he talked. "I was meaning to talk about how you have an eerily good sense for when something is wrong, especially for one so young. I almost don't believe that you've been in so little danger."

"The lazy genius strikes again~."

"You know that we're going to need another talk after this, yes? The more that you walk into the maw of death, the more vicious the teeth will snap."

"Poetic. They'll be snapping for a while though because I've got such great backup, eh? So what's our plan?"

A shadow fell over the hallway. Kane looked up to the metal maw that turned into a savage grin. Aggrons fell into that category of fully living up to their hype. Too many pokémon had dorky heights or proportions that failed to make them seem threatening. This hulking monstrosity fully deserved his metal instruments of doom.

"It's simple, we," she interrupted herself with a yawn, "we, we…"

Kane felt as though it were familiar—the stinging sensation that grinded against his breathing holes. Making up an excuse would come later. Now that he was certain, with another person who he'd dragged into the mess, no holds were being held back.

He'd mocked the Team Rocket grunts back in Cinnabar because their plan was weaksauce. This was more like it.

"Lulu! Knock Off in front of us!"

Thankfully the woman trusted him enough to move with the weak pull along her midsection. The little grass-type was slicing through the field that none of them could see as she was forming out of the ball. Both ducked as Aggron landed, shoving ahead the cloud that they'd barely escaped from. Being outside of the immediate danger zone made Kane much more conscious about the particles that were flying around like gnats. A violent shiver ruined his posture. It became the hobbling Roxanne equally supporting him as she allowed her blurring sight to be guided.

Lulu hadn't fully caught up with what was happening yet. Thus she followed her instincts. With one swing came another, and another, until she was getting tired from constantly keeping up the dark energy wreathed around her blades. It sank down like fishing hooks beneath her skin, digging down and warbling. Eventually the dark energy dissipated without her volition, leaving behind trembling limbs that felt as though multiple pressure points started spinning around like whirlpools. Jabbing the tip of her blade against another invisible wall spread the sensation down her arm.

They'd managed to get nearer to the next room, though Kane knew that complacency would get them killed. As long as they were still in the trap, it could be sprung again and again. Standing outside the cloud let him clearly see the purple that was fermenting around behind them. Aggron was laying against the wall, pink tongue lolled out over the silver mantle. That very well could've been them. Inspiration needed to hit. A muse needed to visit him. Smacking his lips and spelling out vowels created words that may get something moving. Roxanne was trying to wake herself up with repeated vocalizations, pinches on her skin, that wasn't working quick as the color continued creeping closer.

"Lulu! Check if the wall covers the whole hallway! Cottonee! Buy us time by using Fairy Wind down the hallway!" He regretted not coming out with his full team. The last ball that was hooked to his waist merely hadn't left his side out of a feeling of obligation that he had to treat it better than the others. "Tangela! Gather up pieces of debris for me!"

All of the pokémon were similarly confused, yet could get a feel that their trainer had gotten in a bit more serious of situation than normal. Lulu used his shoulder as a launching pad only for her head to bonk against the invisible ceiling and blade to scratch against the invisible wall. Faintly pink air replaced the purple tint in front of them. The place with a few solid seconds of blowing turned mostly clear, where they didn't have to worry about the oncoming clouds of miasma. The foamy clouds that lingered around ground level were avoided by the vines scooping up little chunks of tile. Those with blunted edges were carried, wound up, then thrown ahead. Far enough where the spores were buffeting against it with the power of thousands of years of erosion was another wall. It was a good distance away from Aggron, though far enough that he was confident whatever psychic-type was creating them could create an equally thick defense as on their side.

Lining on the long openings beneath where the ceiling once sat was metal mesh, colored a dirty bronze, that certainly had no function if there weren't a replacement surface floating above them. Most likely their culprits were funnelling in spores from the other side and, considering there were no doors besides those on each end, Kane decided that the adjacent room connected to the central area instead of the outer. He assumed that both going deeper into the ruins and trying to leave would find them lined with more traps; most of the grunts that he'd met were stupider than rocks, but these must've been a cut above the usual ones with how good the trap was.

"Goodness! I've been the worst backup that you could've asked for." Roxanne said, smothering her coughs into her sleeve. "It's bad form for me to have ignored a crisis and acted nonchalant during another one. I won't stand by and leave you to do all the work. I'm intending to keep that promise! Go, Probopass! Clear out the spores!"

The pokémon had barely let out its strange sound of affirmation when those watching saw the disaster forming: a face, snickering, expanding from the wall like a midden. It twisted within itself as if knowing that those watching would be the most disgusted. Multiple commands and first reactions followed. None were able to stop the ball of shadow from smashing into Probopass' ear before the shade disappeared inside the wall again. Multiple attacks glanced off the decades-old brickwork.

"Gengar!" Roxanne bellowed. "If he's doing hit and run, he'll be emerging from the shadows! Aim for those!"

But what were they to do when each new pokémon that could retaliate created a shadow? From Lulu's feet came a Shadow Ball, underneath Cottonee's roving circle a noxious wind, all aimed at the only pokémon that could reliably fight back against the spores. Probopass was spinning around wildly with attacks, each missing and getting a laugh for the trouble. Nobody had the mind to think when the game was apparent. Roxanne fiddled with the balls on her waist, knowing that none of her pokémon could reasonably fit and do anything while they were in a cramped hallway. None of Kane's pokémon were fast enough, literally chasing shadows as the Gengar would appear at the multiple places that supported him. Combine that with the tight space making friendly fire absurdly easy and Probopass continued to get battered by Shadow Balls at an unsustainable rate.

A sound that could be interpreted as a groan of pain slid from the pokémon that started faltering in the air. Kane dug his fingers into his scalp. They weren't fast enough for a pokémon that was literally teleporting. It was a Gengar! Gengars usually used shadows to move around. Maybe they weren't bound to them, but that was an idea. Anything was better than waiting around.

"Flash! Anyone! Does anyone know Flash?"

Unfortunately he wasn't sure about his own pokémon's moveset since he hadn't taken the time to figure that out. The light that started to emit from Tangela made his heart soar, blinking away at the last second before a light so bright that there was a warmth pressing through his eyelids. Past his blocked vision, the various pokémon who were expecting it had to endure opening their eyes moments past the whiteness faded. Gengar stuck out of the wall with an irritated frown, halfway through like an ugly wart.

Its last moment was extending its arm out, creating a section of the hallway turned black. Psychic waves made its body waver until it popped out of the wall, slumping down.

Everything was happening so fast that nobody was getting a proper moment to fully comprehend the situation. Kane wasn't entirely sure why arms wrapped around him as he was forced to hunker down with an entire woman's weight pressing on his back. Her sleeve was forcefully put over his nostrils and mouth, quiet urges to, "close your eyes, close your eyes," making him nuzzle deeper into the warm ball that they found themselves in. It was a suffocating few moments before he heard the chimes that he'd started to associate with fairy moves.

Slowly unwrapping himself from the bundle gave a view of an entirely flipped battlefield: the spores were nearly encroached upon their safe space again, Gengar's unconscious body was sinking into the floor, Nosepass was sleeping, and the grass-types were obviously freaking out as most didn't have a method of pushing away the spores.. Roxanne herself was still hunched over him, one arm worriedly rubbing down a pokéball.

She was speaking, half to him and half to herself.

"Ominous Wind, brought the spores over to us again. Can't move. Any ground-type will destroy the walls and potentially harm us even if we could bring them out. No way to know if there's yet more pokémon surrounding us. Grass-type pokémon much too weak to drag around the dead weight of my own pokémon. Multiple barriers, either multiple pokémon or an extremely strong psychic-type. Spores drift, so unless there's an influence, they've been preparing this for a while. Takes a while for them to drift around." She made it obvious that she was finally addressing him by crouching down, wrapping an arm around his head. "Do any of your pokémon know Aromatherapy?"

He blinked owlishly. "Um, yes, but—"

"Good," she said. It was the assumption that they were running out of time, that their captors would press them more the longer that they remained in the room, that made her undo the bow that twirled in the back of her hair and pressed it onto her mouth. Running straight into the cloud made everyone screech in surprise.

With her eyes barely open, she navigated around her own pokémon and allowed herself a singular breath. Surely spores still slipped past the thin cloth. She could feel the corners of her eyes already turning heavy as she dug her feet fiercely into the grainiest parts of the tile. Her shoulder braced against her pokémon. The entirety of her weight and muscle worked in tandem, pressing against its bare side. Its strange shape worked to her advantage, only needing to influence weight on its lopsided top half. Still it was barely budging.

Suddenly the load became lighter. She couldn't open her eyes fully through the focus but knew that Lulu had joined in with the pushing besides her, the little blades working their darndest as she tried matching the output of a grown woman. Vines entangled whatever notch existed as the final helper was adding their meagre strength to the mix. Kane knew that yanking on Tangela was more liable to hurting the pokémon, and Cottonee barely had the strength to influence a pin. The two of them nervously watched as the rock-type teetered, teetered, until finally rolling wholly over.

Suddenly losing her support made Roxanne stumble, catching herself neatly and using the momentum to make another push. The nose pressed against her stomach. Lulu used it as a better vantage point and put all her strength underneath it. Another roll. Roxanne felt her body burning. Finally her clenched eyes crossed the distance. No matter the begging in her head, the sleepiness wasn't being banished, and the begging forgot what it was even asking. Another stumble made her fan out on her own pokémon. In her head there was an attempt to blink, as though she were still staring, as her mind started traveling irrespective of the place they were in.

Barely three rolls had happened before she had fallen asleep on her own pokémon. The others were obviously panicking, Lulu trying to manifest black energy around her blades again and cringing each time it was summoned, whereas Tangela kept trying to budge the pokémon 200 times its own weight.

Only one of them felt their head screwed on tighter than ever. There barely was a step's distance from the safe spot in the spores. Each second they were making that gap wider. It was mostly Roxanne's work, he could acknowledge, by implying that the spores needed time to travel. It was her effort that inspired him. He wanted to say something cool but felt that it was too cheesy talking to her unconscious body.

Instead, he chose action. Raising his hand didn't catch their attention. Speaking did.

"Sunny Day, Lulu! Cottonee! Use your fluff to block the grates! Help me drag Roxanne back, Tangela!"

There could only be one place the spores were coming from if they were still spreading and, like an idiot, he wasn't using the full potential of his pokémon. The lost cotton growing back faster under Sunny Day may have been nonsense science, but he wanted Lulu to feel that she was doing something while the others were working.

It took Cottonee himself a second to realize what the plan was before twirling in place out of glee. Watching the process would prove that despite Whimsicott being the one known for crawling into devious places, Cottonee equally had an ability to slim down its deceptively bulky mass down to the size of a nugget. The gratings which were meant to filter would-be criminals (mostly mosquitos) from crawling between the rooms were freely used to catch clumps, quickly overtaking entire lengths of the metal. Kane watched as the natural material stitched together like insulation. Very quickly a hulking worm was laying against where the spores used to be coming from. The damage was already done when poison attacks tried eating away at the cotton.

Part one done. Dragging his senior towards the wall let Lulu waft a blade underneath the woman's nose. Already her eyes were blinking when the next phase of the plan was being carried out—casting Fairy Wind. That was it. A constant breeze combined with the spores no longer flooding above them cleared out the area better than before. Soon enough, the distance Roxanne cleared had put her pokémon in a safe place where the strong scent of flowers carried over. Both of them started waking up at around the same time, Roxanne a little more violently as her hand nearly slapped the blurry face next to her.

"Kane? What're ya—" she slurred, voice hardly reforming when her equally imprecise hands started brushing past her holstered pokéballs. Disparate pieces were taken in at a speed where she couldn't definitely say so, but assumed that he'd pushed back the spores. A certain one slipped in her hands. Golem formed with his stubby hands beating against his rock, their wrecking ball ready to slam ahead.

He'd already recognized what was happening however. When Roxanne was going to give the order, he reached out and tugged on the crook of her arm.

But she knew already. The impassive stare down to him made the pokémon nervously shift around, save for the groggy Probopass. "I know why you called me here. Why there aren't sirens and why you didn't use that dark-type attack to immediately escape."

"To be fair, they layered a bunch of barriers on top of themselves pretty much instantly. She's good at using dark-type attacks, but not that good."

Roxanne didn't budge. "You want me to break the inner wall. You want to go attack the pokémon who did this. Not out of vindictiveness or paranoia, but out of curiosity. No, you're a moth to a flame; you know that it'll be interesting, whether that be the answer or the process of getting the answer, and that's why you called me over."

"I kind of don't like how you have me pegged already," Kane complained.

"Do you think that you have me pegged? You think that you already know what I'm going to do since I've already seen through your tricks. You thought that I wouldn't work alongside you, and that it was fitting to trick me instead of talking honestly."

They kept the staredown steady. Roxanne made a gesture with her hand. The way that rock-type pokémon move around made it obvious that their steps moulded mountains, swipes of their limbs broke apart thousand-year old artifacts, even if most didn't recognize them as such. Flexes of their muscles made sounds like rubber bands and the harder parts of their bodies (callouses, literal rocks depending) would grind against other stones, creating a sound that would herald their hunt in the wild.

Without instinct or knowledge, the way that a Golem would maneuver may seem goofy. Their bodies are so bulky that it takes a few wide steps for them to turn around; one of the greatest hurdles in high-level trainers was figuring out ways to circumvent this biological gap. Stubby arms preferred to hold themselves out in an airplane formation, giving them a crucial bit of balance when their feet felt unsteady. The pokémon's wide body made it impossible for them to see behind themselves also, thus its feet would stomp down with the strength of a piston to smash down any imperfection that could make it trip. It's not as if a Golem on its back was disarmed though. Without instinct or knowledge nobody could understand how the pokémon leaning its weight back, nearly so far that it tripped backwards, was one of the deadliest common scenarios out in the wild.

Kane blinked in surprise as the pokémon flew forwards. Probopass' psychic power held the shower of rocks in place, the barrier's borders made evident from the clear line where dust couldn't trespass. The wall itself valiantly held for seconds after the hole was punched into its center before it started crumbling. It was too fast to make anything of it, and their surroundings became too chaotic to give out any orders. What Kane could make out were spores flitting around like plankton on the sea floor, skirting in and out from the immense dust clouds in the same way, giving color to an otherwise musky brown explosion; there was a legion of Vileplume who were stumbling backwards in shock, those few who'd kept their heads rocketing out purple projectiles from the center of their flowers; and above him was Roxanne once again, holding her arm above him despite the psychic barrier.

Waiting for the dust to completely settle would've been foolish. Once the last of the structure hit the ground, the psychic barrier was lowered to the consternation of the human's lungs behind it. Three grass-types and a rock-type were the exact matchup that couldn't touch Vileplume, leaving the blasts of psychic energy as their most potent offensive option. She finally raised herself up, letting the showers of purple clogged by a cliff face of dust be the backdrop of her declaration.

"You're wrong, Kane. Do you think of me as against risk? Let me say clearly that being against risk is against being human. No, continue risking, continue being brave, but do so safely." Her lips quivered when she got a genuine confused grunt. "Climbing a cliff face without the tools doesn't make you greater than other people. Do not be a fool and go into a dangerous situation unprepared. You're precious, meaning that those moments with the greatest risks depend on the greatest preparations; in the same way, I came along with my strongest pokémon, called the police to hold their response for ten minutes so we can clean up the area and have plenty of medicine on-hand in case you were hurt."

"Bwuh?" Kane said, now completely lost.

In lieu of an answer, she moseyed ahead with her hands primly behind her back. Lost on Kane was how her shoulder brushed into the air where previously there was a psychic wall. Traversing above the pile of rubble was done with the greatest care to avoid needing a tetanus shot, then transitioning into avoiding stepping on the unconscious pokémon. Fielding the room was a carpet of knocked out Vileplumes, many piled up on the metal doorway as they'd tried to escape. Levitation cleared the way for Roxanne to reach out and grasp the metal handle. The latch was undone. Pushing ahead made the age-old door creak into the empty space.

What laid ahead didn't matter as much as the fact that it was empty. Seconds ago there was a circle as if a seance were happening; the only evidence that Roxanne considered was the creamy layer of dust had streaks around the center of the room. Kane's brain was finally catching up, as he clicked his tongue when looking inside.

"They must've had Teleport or another escape plan. Nah, it has to be Teleport, right?"

Roxanne chuffed out a few laughs at the wide-eyed expression she'd seen a thousand times. This one felt particularly precious, as she imagined there weren't many opportunities to witness the beguiling boy to genuinely feel his age. "Teleport would be my best guess, though it'd be better if we left the investigation to the police. We've won. Is that good enough for you?"

"Kind of wished that I got to do more," Kane said tartly.

Because when he looked back at the whole fight, he had his pivotal moment. That was it. Past that, Roxanne could've dealt with the Gengar, she'd been the one to break down the wall, she'd dealt handily with the Vileplume, she'd done the sacrifice to put Probopass in a better position, and outsmarted him in the first place by not making the battle have any stakes. The whole thing was unsatisfying. It left a bitter taste in his mouth and he wasn't sure why. He wasn't important. He'd been saved. What's the problem?

His brooding was interrupted by the hand that settled on his shoulder.

"I understand the feeling, but especially for someone who isn't a trainer, you did amazing. Many of your off the cuff tactics were genius with what you were working with." She turned to address Kane's pokémon who'd scattered around the room. Since none of them could touch the Vileplume, they'd worked together to be skittering targets in an attempt to draw fire, now breathing heavily from the many near-misses. "Ah, I don't mean that you're weak or anything of the sort, but for a coordinated attack such as that, not many reach the level of pokémon who were trained to do so. Apologies if it sounded as if I were implying you three did anything but fantastic."

Lulu didn't feel like she needed to defend herself (it was only her beauty that she took great pride in, after all), two of Tangela's vines reached out to give his best approximation of a shrug, and Cottonee seemed as if he was too busy enjoying bouncing around based on the breeze.

Kane, of all of them, felt his hackles rising, before sucking it in. Emotional!—again! Again he felt as though he'd lost control of the situation, mostly because she'd barged in. Did he need the help? Maybe! But he was disorientated, both from her actions and words, feeling as though any quips wouldn't really say what he wanted to say.

In that silence it was Roxanne that took up the mantle. She didn't recognize that Kane was unusually quiet.

"I say though, this was a fully coordinated attack between two different types of pokémon. Poison and ghost-types love this area, but I haven't seen a single psychic-type, especially one so strong. No, with that amount of coordination and strength, it's hard to come to any conclusion other than this was a coordinated attack made by trainers." She worriedly checked him over. "Have you made any enemies? If these were water or fire-types, then I'd guess it was one of those recent psychopaths who are using our region as their base. I've heard that they use other types too yet it feels wrong that they have this much coordination when they're relatively new."

"Enemies?" Kane repeated, thinking of Red. "No, I'm not that important."

She hummed. Then she maintained a presence. Kane couldn't understand how it worked. Without a change in her stance or expression he could tell that there was something different about her. Unconscious tells that changed her from the woman who protected him with her body into the person of the first day of school.

"Is that so? I would've thought of yourself as important considering that the dean asked you to survey the land here for demolition."

"What are you talking about? She didn't ask for that."

"That's interesting." She leaned down until they were eye level. Kane only realized how he messed up when her smile turned brittle. "So then why were you snooping around a well-known dangerous spot, Ser non-trainer? Surely you had a plan for when said dangerous pokémon would find you. Speaking of, isn't it interesting how they had a trap conveniently in this spot as if they knew you were coming here?"

He looked back to Lulu. She looked like she was brimming with positivity. Tangela had started using Probopass as a latch for him to swing on. Cottonee still wasn't paying attention.

"I saw a pretty light and wanted to investigate."

"You were lured as if by a Lanturn!?"

Hours later, a dark corner of her house. Vacation time was aplenty. Vacation time was never solely vacation, not for anyone. Roxanne saw it as the time when you were given the breathing room to focus on your hobbies rather than a clear time where you didn't work; Aggron had tried helping with dishes once and ended up breaking her favorite plate. All her fields required her to put in a little extra time even on off-days so she wasn't left behind too. Finding a good dig site required her to keep in touch with colleagues and keep an ear open for newer sites that were being discovered, or finally slid through the net of paperwork. Training her team—duh!—took up many hours of her week unconditionally. Writing and memorizing her lectures was done weeks in advance.

Flicking on the lamplight gave her a view of the papers that she'd drafted up about finally doing a concerted effort on getting that decrepit police station torn down and fully cleaned up. It was absurd that it'd lasted so long (many organizations carried the torch that needed to be carried through the ages: the ex-officers who didn't want the memories to fade, the locals in the neighborhood who noticed that tearing it down was bundled with many other policies they found disagreeable, CFC—Center For Culture—fully dedicated towards keeping 'historic' landmarks of Rustboro intact, then when the oldest officials who'd been wanting to destroy the 'blighted knuckle that has bedeviled our land' for years thought it would've been over when CFC disbanded, thus comes various pokémon advocates who say that destroying the ghost and poison-type's habitat would spread them out and harm the ecosystem) and Roxanne was finally going to use the pretext of its crumbling foundation being a hazard to the pokémon for it to be replaced with literally anything else.

Intermittently she'd jab the call button. It was more out of glee annoying her friend than anything else. Eventually the call picked up, in which she immediately added their third wheel.

"Roxanne," she simply greeted. An insufferable breathing sounded as though it were tearing the microphone from the inside out. "Is there a reason that you thought it's fine to call me twenty times in a row? Have you finally found yourself a man? Have you found a relief for your cramps that lasts past a single hour?"

"...should I be listening to this?" Norman grumbled.

Roxanne ignored them, forging ahead with her ears closed. "Are you on top of a tower again?"

"Yes."

Norman figured that asking anything wouldn't get a response and resigned himself to listening.

"I've just seen the darndest thing. You see, Kane and I were battling today—I'll tell you all more about that during the meeting—and you won't believe what I saw! He had three grass-types out of varying ability. One of those is the pokémon that he has out as an assistant during the class but the others were new. You figured out that he's definitely employed by someone other than Professor Oak, Norman?"

"He's working for the grass-type—aha."

"Though I'm working on a better method to confirm, I think that we now can assume which people have lost the bet."

She smiled wider when there was a muttered curse that somehow could be heard above the violent winds.

T-Minus 1 Month and 4 Days​

"...and that's the reason you would not want to use Calm Mind in that situation," Kane said, feeling as though he was being dragged through the wringer. "Come on, there's a bunch of strengthening skills, people. Did you really think that Calm Mind, Nasty Plot, and Bulk Up all do the same thing? They don't! They literally don't! You can go outside and see it yourselves! Stack up Bulk Up until you're ready to pop and give a pokémon a hit!"

"Well, yeah, but you're really telling me that my Pelipper's Hydro Pump isn't going to do more damage?" a student in the back asked doubtfully.

"No! And Pelipper doesn't learn Bulk Up!" Deciding that he wasn't going to assume everything was the same, he quickly added, "I think! Okay! If people want to get into silly arguments with me some more, then I'll probably be free tomorrow! Hope that all of you get your pokédexes sometime near in the future! So long and thanks for the fish! Go! You're free! If you want the write-up then assistant professor Lulu will be waiting by the door!"

The students started moseying out, talking about the last twenty minutes of class where he argued with them about which moves were physical and which were special. Plucking the phone from its stand, he quickly inputted a few commands as he walked towards the front. The monsters at the front desk gave him a mere twenty minute break between two of his classes, which made him not have much else to do but mess around until the students started coming in. Already there were those brushing shoulders with those that were leaving. Ripping down the taped paper that said, "this class being recorded," he crumpled it and tossed the ball across the room into the trashcan. The early students were given a front row seat as Kane jammed a plug in and started a call.

Apparently interregional calls were a thing, Kane had learned when he complained about it to Roxanne. Convenience wasn't invented yet; attach your phone with a special cable to a blue block that was a little bit bigger than his phone itself, then attach another special cable to a little doohickey shaped like a mouse with an extendable antenna (very easily broken) and voila! Within so many meters of a broadcast tower there was the capability of having conversations past the regional reach.

"Yo," Kane said.

Granted, it was spotty, and Kane nearly thought that hearing his boss' intonation through reading letters would be better than watching her approximate form respond with crunchy words.

"Lane! Is this from your phone?"

"Yeppers," he said, giving a peace sign. He could understand if the other side could barely see two flesh-colored antennas sticking out from a general circle. "I sent over the footage also. Not sure why you want to see that, weirdo, but you've got it."

"Because I want to know how you teach." Whatever was on her face couldn't really be seen, but he was pretty sure that there was a grin considering her tone. "With this much practice I'd hope that you've gotten better."

They talked about their days for a while.

"..and that's how I'm standing to tell the story! Without," he gave a full body view even if her picture would be as murky as his side, "any injuries, as you can see! The worst that happened was inhaling a bunch of dust! Look at Lulu! She's doing well too!"

She'd immediately fallen asleep once sitting in it. He thought it was too cute how she'd sleep with perfect posture, so he didn't want to wake her up.

There was a slight delay to the call.

"Lane, I'm not sure how—" her picture finally caught up to Lulu—"awww. Wait, don't distract me! I was saying that, how, how are you getting injured so much!? Between working at that school and finding my pokémon, you shouldn't have the time to get injured!"

"What can I say? I'm just really good at getting myself into crazy things."

"Crazy things are not dangerous, Lane. That term hardly makes sense when you look deeper into ii. There are things that happen, some pressing and some that wouldn't affect our lives if we didn't get involved. For them to be stupid, you're probably referring to how you're approaching them."

"Are you calling me stupid?"

"I'm calling you careless." She kept a straight face that could be told through the screen. "Do you know how this sounds? I've finished retelling my work of an absolutely lovely garden being opened for the public; meanwhile your own day is full of violence and yelling."

"S'how the real world works. I'll teach you how to live a little! Let's go out on an adventure sometime."

There was a strange hitch in her words as she spoke. "I th-think not! If your adventures always end up with mortal danger, then you can consider me a happy gardener!"

With class quickly approaching, the intermittent students started picking up until there were entire swathes walking through. Just when he was about to think of a witty reply, danger itself kicked down the door.

"Hellooooooo! It is I, Lisia, and I am here for a favor!"

The class descended into pandemonium. Lane felt like choking the girl. Few weeks in and a teacher's rigidity had already taken over.

Chapter Text