Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Foreword

At its heart, this is a story about a young woman having her first experience with sex. As such, there will be plenty of indelicate language, and, eventually, lemons. Take this as fair warning. Do note, however, that I wanted to treat the subject with a certain amount of respect and realism. It's the same experiences and issues I, and so many others, have had to deal with as we mature into adults.

This is my own canon, but it's more or less based off the games (as opposed to the anime or manga). The naming scheme is a little inconsistent I admit (e.g. Red is the hero from the R/B/Y, but Ethan is the hero from G/S/C); despite that, I hope you can follow without too much confusion.

With that said, I politely ask for any criticisms or reviews, and hope you enjoy reading.

Part I - The Gym Leader Summit

"I'm sorry if I misled you, but I have no interest in being anything but friends." I watched the proverbial knife dig deep, deep, deep into his heart, and my only emotion was anger. Anger at him, for forcing me into this situation. Anger at myself, for inviting it. The world makes me angry, and this drama is one of the bigger reasons for it. But I'm shy, so I can't go ballistic on his ass, like I so dearly want to right now. That would be improper, and I'm terrified silly what others would think of me then. So I just give him a half-hearted smile and say - nothing.

My name is Jasmine, by the way. I'm the leader of the Olivine City Pokémon Gym. I'm twenty-one and five-foot-four and happily single. Okay, maybe not happily, but I am single by choice. It's no big deal, to me, but for everyone else I know…

"I'm sorry," said Volkner. "It's just, well… Is there someone else?"

"No," I answered.

"So, it's just… you don't want to see anybody."

"More or less."

I sounded so much chipper and calm than I really was. Volkner certainly sounds more upbeat than he must be inside. His lips are smiling, but his eyes are welling up. Best to get out of here before the waterworks start.

He stepped away, shoulders held high. Don't kid yourself, Volksy, I bet you feel like a Metagross meteor-mashed your heart right now! Don't beat yourself up over it, either, because it's me, not you. Well, okay, it's you.  I don't know how my brain works, but it has no interest in you, romantically, whatsoever. It was good chatting with you!

His tall, lanky form hung limp as it disappeared through the lobby doors. I wonder if this one will forget me, or fawn over me for awhile. By recent trends, probably the latter, maybe to the point of stalking. Unrequited love is such a Ghastly thing, forgive the pun. At least I won't have to entertain his awkward conversations about his Pokemon prowess anymore. Thank God!

With that out of the way, I'm well able to enjoy the rest of my day. Which means lunch with my friends at the Café le Rei.

I didn't especially like Café le Rei. It was too average and un-notable, from its white-washed walls to its generic menu. It had but one thing going for it: it was right across the street from the Battle Tower, and not some miles up the hills of Olivine City. So, while I'm working in this part of town, and while this September is unusually, disgustingly humid, convenience trumps taste.

Below my nose lay a merely-edible, half-eaten panini. To my left sat the gym leader of Goldenrod, Whitney. To my right, Celadon's gym leader Erika. Across the table from me was Lyra. They all hadn't known each other very well for very long, but since they all knew me, we formed a group and began hanging out. Lyra was the newest member of our troop, and Whitney and Erika were initiating her into the complex social web that was the Gym Leader Summit.

"There are dozens of regions, each with their own official gym systems. All of them have to be certified by the Pokémon League, which means they have to follow certain rules and guidelines. This summit helps us keep current on the rules, and helps us become stronger, since gym leaders have to maintain competitiveness." Erika explained this in her usual placid, gentle tone.

"Yeah, not anyone can be a gym leader! They wouldn't let us run a gym if we lost to too many pip-squeaks!" Whitney chimed in.

"Uhuh. Uhuh." Lyra nodded along, hopefully not just pretending to understand. "But, wait," she interrupted. "If you guys are so strong, how'd I beat you all?" Lyra had recently become the Johto League Champion. It was a surprise she had come this far in Pokémon-battling without understanding anything about the organization behind it.

"Because that Typhlosion of yours is absurdly strong!" exclaimed Whitney. True, she had basically leveled the entire Johto League, including me, with Typhlosion's Overheat attack. Thanks, Whitney, no need to remind me about it.

"Well, I just let my Pokémon do what they like." I had learned that her Pokémon actually love her, a lot, and were so strong because they wanted to protect her. She really needed it, too. She can be a complete ditz at times, like when she mistook a human hotel for a pokecenter (and freaked out when the bellhop took her pokeballs).

"How do you manage?"

"Oh, I trust my Pokémon!"

"I mean, in everyday affairs. Your Pokémon can't help you with your bank account."

"Oh," smiled Lyra cheerfully, "my boyfriend helps me with the math stuff."

"Boyfriend?!?!" was shouted in unison, including me. Whitney, having known Lyra the longest, was the most shocked.

"When did you get a boyfriend? Who?"

"Oh it shouldn't be a big surprise! Me and Ethan figured out we liked each other this summer."

"Congratulations!"

"Wow!" squealed Whitney, piercing my eardrums. I winced, then slouched back into my chair, attempting to not be a part of this conversation. Lyra was a newcomer, she could be forgiven the quaint look she threw me when I divested myself of the celebrations. Whitney and Erika, however, should have known better.

"I'm in-between boyfriends," said Whitney, exasperated.

"But you're always in-between boyfriends. When are you going to settle on one?"

"Never, dating is too much fun! Hey Lyra, did Ethan ever figure out how to dress?"

"Yeah, I go shopping with him, no worries there anymore."

"Good, because those were an awful set of shorts, they ought to be burned and buried."

"Don't mock him! He doesn't deserve that."

So on and so forth, the banal twittering of young women and their obsessions. I was getting bored, until Erika tugged my sleeve.

"So, Jasmine, has there been anyone to catch your eye?"

"Not interested," I responded succinctly.

"Oh, come come! Tell us."

"Yeah, there has to be one?"

"None."

"What about that guy who you've been talking to lately?"

"Hmph." I'm not going to repeat myself.

…

"It's okay if you don't have someone special yet. You'll meet him, someday," Lyra added, hopefully and starry-eyed.

Whitney rolled her eyes. "You don't know Jasmine that well."

"Can you just tell us why? You're always so uptight over dating, is there a reason?" I wanted them to think I was 'just not ready', but Erika saw through my poorly built facade.

"It's because… I'm a lesbian." I tried sounding sincere. Lyra and Whitney covered their mouths and stood back in awe and shock. Erika patted my head playfully.

"Don't be silly," she advised, even though she was stifling a smile. Whitney and Lyra relaxed, now thinking themselves fools for being duped so easily. That goes to show the overblown importance they put on others' sexual-orientation. Lyra recovered faster from the embarrassment.

"If you don't want to tell us, we can drop it," offered Lyra. I mustered a petty smile for her kind suggestion. Whitney and Erika would have loved to have pursued this, since they never let up any other time. Not today, though. Either in consideration for me, or at the behest of our new friend, I was let off the hook. Finally- a minute is too long to be retreading this subject.

Except Erika couldn't resist one last barb before immediately switching topics, cutting off even a come-back:

"You're such a shrew, Jasmine. Speaking of Sandshrews…"

We ended the meal and broke off to our various functions around 2:00 P.M.

They were holding practice battles at the open-air arenas, ostensibly to foster casual competition and friendship between gym leaders and other prominent trainers. I was not really up for a fight, so I stood by in the shade and watched. There were three or four other like-minded spectators nearby, and a few dozen more at various points around the field. A pool of ten or so trainers took turns challenging each other.

Nobody expected anything spectacular here; it was, after all, unwise for a trainer to show off their special tactics before official tournaments. In fact, there was supposed to be a championship tournament after the gym leader qualifications were over. I knew I wouldn't even be considered for competition, though. My mind was focused on the qualifying matches; those determined if I could keep my job as Olivine's gym leader. Anything beyond that was unimportant.

 Whitney was also present, but in the trainer line-up. She came back from a close-cut victory, sweating from the summer heat. She tried to stand next to me, but I couldn't help but step one foot leftwards after taking in her body odor.

"How come we have to qualify for gym leadership? Seems bossy to me, each gym should be run by whoever wants to do it most!" Whitney exclaimed/whined.

"Because gym leaders get a salary from the Pokemon League, remember? They want their money's worth."

Whitney was referring to the fact that we were forced to take a graded three match course against League representatives, and another six matches against fellow Gym Leaders. Failing the grade meant no more title and a trip to the unemployment office. There were degrees of failure. Lower-scoring individuals would have to put in extra effort to avoid forced-resignation, such as community service or Pokemon fitness programs or trainer strategy courses. The best scorers get pay raises.

"I sure hope mine are easy," she went on, referring to her opponents.

"They scale your grade against your opponent's skill level. Don't you pay attention? Where's Erika?"

"I pay attention! And Erika's inside with the Kanto crew throwing a bridal shower? I think."

"What?"

"One of the guys is getting married next month, his fiancé is being welcomed into the Kanto club. Sounds fun, but she said it was invite-only. Party-pooper."

"I hope she's ready for the gala tonight."

"Oh, don't worry about that. I worry about you, though, you like to skip parties without telling anyone."

"Hey, good idea!" I tried sounding sarcastic, but maybe I sounded too enthusiastic. That was always a problem of mine, miscommunicating my intended emotion. I just don't see any reason to work on it, though.

"Woah! Watch this!" Whitney pointed at the spiffy black-dressed indigo-head coming onto the field. "She's really good. Watch her fight."

The lady's opponent was a little kid, by comparison, a teen in a yellow jacket. I wondered how the brat avoided baking up in that thing. He was eager and loud, once the action started.

"Go, Charizard!" The dragon-like lizard burst from its pokeball, letting off blasts of Flamethrower into the air. "Let's mash em!" he screamed. Really? 'Mash em'? I looked to Whitney's favorite, as the cool-colored lady summoned an Umbreon out. The little black mammal looked weak compared to the Charizard, but it stood its ground none-the-less. The lady pushed a hand through her indigo-dyed hair, also looking confident.

"Umbreon, huh? That means it has strong defenses! But that's no match for Seismic Toss!" This brat was kind of smart, but not really. I think his Charizard had more brains, because it took off and rapidly gained altitude. That'd been my move as well, to avoid the nasty, annoying arsenal Umbreons are known for.

"And go, do it Charizard!" The Pokemon seemed reluctant, but dove anyways.

"Defense Curl!" was all I heard from the other side of the court. Umbreon crouched into a ball. Charizard tried to tackle the creature and grab it, but instead it was as if it had rammed into a rock. Charizard flapped back a few steps, clutching its head.

"Just fly in and grab Umbreon, like we trained, Charizard! Charizard?" The kid didn't even notice the Confuse Ray Umbreon had fired immediately after, sending Charizard into a dizzy status.

"Argh! Okay, stay cool… no, heat it up!" I was angry again, I wanted this kid to stop belching lame puns with every breath! "Use Fireblast!" Charizard stomped itself straight, and then let loose a pentagram-shaped fireball. Umbreon took the attack head on, flinching as it did so. The Dark-type wasn't down, but it was hurting.

"Like to play with fire?" the lady asked, returning his lame puns for another. She retreated her Umbreon and sent a new pokeball out. Out came an evil Pokemon, not to be trifled with: Houndoom.

"My fire against yours! Charizard, Fireblast!" Yet this Fireblast missed as Houndoom dodged to the side, then charged in for its own attack. "Bite!" came the command, which Houndoom executed almost instantly. It was too fast for reaction; I thought perhaps the trainer and Pokemon had a psychic link. The Houndoom locked onto Charizard's throat, taking it down in one stroke.

"Wah?! No way! Awwww!" The whining did not cease as he was forced to take his Pokemon back. He fiddled with his other two Pokeballs, stunned.

"I told you she's awesome!" Whitney chided me (even though I never argued that point). At that moment a profile picture from the faint reaches of memory floated back. I recognized the woman, or thought I did. I could be wrong about the face, but what other high-level dark-type specialist would be hanging around Johto? 

"That's Karen. She was in the Elite Four a few years ago. Of course she's good."

"She's okay," chipped in a voice beside me. A guy stood there, watching the match intently. He looked my age, maybe a few years older; I couldn't tell much else from his dress or demeanor. Who was he? Why was he listening to our conversation? Why did he look a little familiar?

"Say what?" I asked. He glanced sideways, barely, as if surprised someone actually addressed him.

"Karen, she's ranked 14^th in the region right now. Decent." That was all he said.

"You are?" I asked him, annoyed. He seemed more annoyed, and inched away without replying.

"That's rude," I said. Yet another example of the depraved masculine half of the human race. Was it any wonder I didn't want to be associated with them?

"Woah!" Whitney blurted. I turned to see the smoking remains of a Venusaur disappearing into a Pokeball. The kid cursed under his breath, and threw out his last comrade, a Wartortle. I bet he's regretting slacking on training it, compared to his other fighters.

"Water Gun!" It was pointless. Houndoom simply took the wimpy stream of water, and counterattacked with a Solarbeam. How a Houndoom could know Solarbeam was beyond me, but it was super-effective and Wartortle was 1HKO'd.

"Thanks for the breather," Karen said, laughing at the puddle of misery that was her challenger.

"Well I'm beat. Let's go get ready for the party."

"Sure…" I said, looking back over my shoulder at the rude, mysterious young man as he stared off into space. "Men," I muttered under my breath with disdain.

Chapter Text

"Jasmine, you're not serious, are you?"

"What's wrong with it?" They were the best I had!

"Those are church clothes, Jasmine, this is a gala. You have to have something more... festive, right?" Erika acted like the de facto big sister of our group. Normally polite and reserved, even on the gym floor, put her in a formal dress and she could always be counted on for her socialite aptitude and assertiveness. By far the most mature female in my circle of friends. By contrast, I must look like a spoiled brat right now.

"No!" I answered. Despite my undying respect for Erika, her frequent mommy-attitude caused a lot of squabbling and inane arguments.

"Come here!" she dragged me into her hotel closet and began rummaging through her dresses.

"That's so like you, Jasmine, always the modest one."

"I like how I dress."

"Yes, but you'll stick out like a weed in a rose garden! Come come!" She rough-housed a jet-black backless halter dress onto me. I struggled the whole way.

"Quit it!" My protests were useless.

"See? That looks good! Dare I say - sexy?"

"Don't be so coarse!"

"Lighten up, you're twenty-one, not a little girl."

"Thanks for pointing that out," I said with lava-like sarcasm. Everyone else made fun of how young and childish I looked.

"What's with that reaction? Maybe if you actually ate something…." She eyed my scrawny figure over with a disdainful eye. "I haven't fit into that since high school. Oh well, can't be helped for tonight. You'll look splendid- but let down your hair."

"No!" It was too late, my hair clips were snatched away and my mini-tails fell out.

"Much better."

"I regret coming here."

"Oh do cheer up. Maybe you'll meet a cute boy tonight."

My mood right now? In a word: RARGH!

Minutes later…

"WOW!" A double squeal of joy could only mean Lyra and Whitney have arrived. They ogled at me in Erika's dress.

"Never seen you actually dress up, Ms. Jasmine!"

"Hmph."

They, for their part, were impeccably dressed for gaiety. Erika was in a long green sleeveless cheongsam. Whitney was in a short skirt and strapless top. Lyra was similar, except with spaghetti straps. Between the four of us, there was a little too much bare skin for my liking. Not that my opinion on the matter was heeded in the least.

"Don't be a baby."

"Lighten up, have fun!"

"They're right. Relax, and enjoy it. You don't have to flirt with the boys; just say no if they try to pick up on you. Goodness, you have enough practice doing that."

Whitney, Lyra, and Erika's answers, in turn, upon hearing my protests. I looked down at myself, gripping the tissue-thin fabric by the hem.

"Let's hurry, the bus might leave without us," Whitney motioned.

"No need, I already made arrangements." The three of us stared at Erika with quizzical expressions. What exactly did she mean by that?

Five minutes later, we got our answer.

"Wonderful!"

"Awesome!"

"Neat!"

"Hmm."

Erika, Whitney, Lyra, and my own reaction, in that order, when a sleek limousine pulled up the drive. We were currently out in front of the Solace Hotel and in ten minutes we wanted to be at the Calloway Room at the Pokemon Battle Tower. The gala had already started, but Erika insisted we arrive "fashionably late". It's so "Everyone will notice us when we enter!" as she had put it. This was the only part of the plan I agreed with, as it reduced the time period I would be forced to stay at the party. The driver ushered us into the cabin (not without checking us out!), and we were on our way. The three of them chatted non-stop the entire way. In the middle of the conversation:

"Where's Ethan? Is he coming?"

"Not tonight. He's on the boat coming from Kanto right now, he'll be in late."

"That's unfortunate. I had wanted to meet him properly," Erika said.

"Haven't you? He was the Kanto Champion, I would have thought-"

"Sadly, no."

"What's this about Ethan being a Champion?" asked Whitney.

"Oh, funny story. He's not anymore, but after I took the Johto Championship last January, he didn't want to fight me for the title, so he took off and cleaned up the Kanto League. I thought he was scared of me at the time, but it turns out he liked me too much to battle me seriously."

"Jeez, and you're dating him?"

"Well, yeah, he was beaten like two weeks after, so he came running home tail between his legs. But at least he got up the courage to confess the next day. Ha! The dork! I would have said yes a long time ago if he had just asked!"

"Hehehe!" Whitney laughed.

"I see." Erika nodded.

I said nothing, but rolled my eyes.

"Eh, I wish he could be here tonight, the Johto crew wouldn't mind a rematch," Whitney said.

"So all the Johto League Gym Leaders will be there?" Lyra asked.

"Naturally, it's being held here after all. At least a hundred Gym Leaders have shown up for the conference, and then there's hundreds more officials, trainers, and other wealthy fans. It's a real who's-who in the Pokemon-competition world," Erika answered.

"Sweet! Maybe I'll see Silver there!"

"Hey, that means Morty will be there too!" Whitney became excited recalling this fact. Her eyes opened wide and I swear they were reflecting stars.

"Whitney!" I tried to shush her.

"What's that?" asked Lyra and Erika simultaneously.

"Morty, the Ecruteak Gym Leader. I had a huge crush on him when I was younger. So did Jasmi-" Too late, I clamped her mouth shut. She flailed at my face until I let go.

"Oh really?! Maybe we can get him and Jasmine to hook up!"

I slumped into my seat, thinking. These friends of mine loved me, so why did they always make fun of me and bother me about going out and having fun and boys? They knew it irritated me, they knew it, and they still do it, every single day! It made me mad and I wanted to just get this over with and go to the lighthouse and cuddle with Amphy.

"Oh, guess who else might be there."

"I don't know. Wait, is it a guy?"

"Yes, but don't get your hopes up, he's married."

"Who?"

"Well, I heard from my professor that they're having to prep security for the convention tomorrow, personal bodyguards and stuff. That probably means we're getting a visit by the Man himself."

"Wait, you don't mean…."

Even I perked up at this- "HE's here?" I said, genuinely surprised, and shocked.

"Yep, Steven Stone, in the flesh."

Let me give you a short history lesson. The Pokemon League World Championship was founded 98 years ago, and is held once every four years. The best of the best of the best compete for the top spot on the globe. Any given trainer has a one-in-ten-thousand chance of even qualifying; to even make it to the 2^nd round twice in one's lifetime was a divine miracle.

Steven Stone won the World Championship three times. His official league record does not contain a single defeat. He is not merely a champion, nor a legend, he is a God, a Myth, among trainers. And currently, he is also the Chief Executive Officer of the Pokemon League. That's not even considering his other achievements, like his tenure on the Hoenn Elite Four, president of the Devon Corporation, and a world-renowned geologist, paleontologist, and archeologist.

A momentary silence occupied the limo cabin. When we came to, the conversation turned to Pokemon affairs. Lyra, being the only non-gym leader, was now being poked fun at for her ignorance. Among League employees, the in-joke treasure trove was endless. The topics and humor broiled on- I even found something to add every so often- until another interesting bit came up.

"When was the last time Stone won?"

"Um… '04 I think. Though it was kind of a bum championship that year, everyone else had given up. Oh, right, that was the year…"

She paused, and we hung our heads in silent penance for a moment. No one likes remembering such an awful tragedy.

"Speaking of championships, the current champion should also be here," Erika observed, pushing us past the difficult topic.

That was a given, the current champion was socially obligated to attend the summit. Still, anyone who won that title was awe-inspiring in the extreme and created a buzz wherever they went.

"Um, that'd be Red, now."

"Awesome! I still remember when he came to my gym."

"Me too! He's soooo handsome."

"And kind!"

"Don't remind me."

And there they go, boys, boys, and more boys. Besides having learned of the suspected presence of three males who may or may not become important to me in the near future, I heard little of value in that limousine ride. Come to think of it, I couldn't wait to get to the gala, if for no other reason than to go off alone.

The ball was in full swing by the time we arrived. Once we got past check-in, we moved into a chaotic sea of bodies and noise. The center floor was already filled with dancers, the best getting urged to the front and the mediocre flowing in and out of the crowd like microbial proteins. The four corners of the enormous room were filled with tables, each catering to a different taste in atmosphere.

"Oooo!" Whitney squealed and jolted off towards one such area. It looked like it was the hip, neo-metro look. In the far corner they were playing classical music and pretending they were in the Victorian era; this was my destination. I successfully gave my friends the slip and floated away. A nook opened into a windowed vista, overlooking the coastline. I sat down here and enjoyed the relative quiet of the place. En route I had found an itinerary and began reading it. There wasn't much scheduled. The idea was for people to mingle and create their own fun; programs might spoil the mood. We missed the welcoming ceremonies, and the only other major events were a band and an address by the Pokémon League Chief Human Resources Officer. Not interesting, unless he announces pay hikes for us. I leaned back and sighed.

"How were the practice matches?"

"I didn't join them."

"Why not?"

"Meh."

I found myself listening to the next table over, where two men had taken up seating.

"If you weren't going to fight you could have helped the staff prepare."

"You mean I could have helped you," came the reply.

"Not just me. Everyone's working here, even the gym leaders partying out there have to wake up for seminars tomorrow. It's the least you could do for an old friend."

"Well then, forgive me. No one here is worth sparring with anyways."

"How can you be sure about that?"

"Karen showed up to the practice matches and rolled over everyone else. If they can't put up a fight against her, I don't need to bother."

"Doubtful. The best are probably keeping their Pokemon fresh for the reviews."

"Then why should I go and bust their teams up before then?"

"You are right, you shouldn't, and that is why I wanted you to help run admin."

"Meh."

Sounds like they don't get along. I tipped my head back, for the first time seeing four men dressed in black suits standing around. One was eyeing me, and not in the lustful sense- he gave me an ice-cold stare. I jolted round to see who exactly needed bodyguards, and had two big shocks at once.

"Oh, did we startle you? You don't have to move."

"It's okay," I answered to the elder of the pair. There was no mistake, this was the same picture featured on political magazines and  competition annals; this was Steven Stone. My mind raced, searching for something appropriate to say and not make an ass of myself in front of the CEO of the Pokemon League.

And beside him? None other than the youth who had so rudely brushed me off at the practice matches. He didn't even bother looking at me this time. But now that I look at him again- he seemed too familiar, as if I'd met him somewhere else, but I couldn't place him…

"Good evening," I bowed my head. "My name is Jasmine."

"Pleased to meet you. I'm Mr. Stone, of course, and this is my young friend, Red. Where are you from?"

Red? The world champion?!

"I'm this city's gym leader," I managed to sputter out.

"Oh, I see. That's convenient for you. Are you enjoying yourself?"

"A little."

"Well, I hope that changes for the better."

That's funny, he's so much nicer to me than to his friend. I guess the same could be said of me and my friends too.

"Well, thank you. I won't intrude any longer; besides, I could use a pick-me-up." I rose, bowed, and lilted off. Stone waved goodbye as I exited the veranda.

A few minutes later:

"No way! You met Stone! The Stone?!"

"Yeah, turns out he's kinda nice to strangers, too. But I guess it was a bad time, he was with someone and they weren't getting along."

"Do you know who?" I didn't want to tell them it was a personal feud with the current world champion, so I waved my head in the negative. "That's too bad."

I wandered off again, having run into the group out of accident and still not wanting to hang around them. I couldn't return to the veranda, and there was no where else private and quiet to hide out at, so I just drifted.

The crowd was still on their feet, mostly hanging around and chatting. I tried recognizing as many of them as possible: fellow gym leaders, famous trainers, politicians, businessmen, random associates and a few acquaintances. It felt awkward, though, as I never felt in the mood to join in or talk to anyone. The conversation was mostly pointless, affairs and interests that were inane or out of my field of knowledge. Silly things came up, often, such as jokes about the latest pop-sensations. Prattling about past victories and losses, but so few were exciting these days.

Blah blah blah, that's all I heard, and the more I dwelled on it, the worse my boredom got, the more irritated I became, and the more flustered my emotions got. Was I having a panic attack? What was there to panic about? I needed something to distract me!

A group of trainers were showing off their contest Pokemon, including a cute one I'd never heard of. It looked like a Treecko, but that wasn't quite what it was- too spiky, less lizard-like and more snakish. My feet followed my eyes, and soon enough I had attained some measure of calm watching this curious little grass Pokemon do somersaults.

After a particularly difficult set, the Pokemon gave a dramatic flourish, I forgot where I was, and laughed aloud. Ten seconds later my phone buzzed with a text message.

"You're cute," it read.

I didn't recognize the phone number. It could be Whitney or Erika playing a prank, but where would they get a hold of a stranger's cell phone? No way- I bolted upright, rotating around, looking for spies. Someone was stalking me. No one was paying attention to me though; they were all enthralled by the acrobatic grass Pokemon.

The phone buzzed with another text message.

"And you're cuter when you're upset."

"Who are you?" I tapped into the phone and mashed the send button. Who was spying on me? Who was teasing me? I wanted to know, and when I found them, introduce them to my fist.

"Would you like to know?" came the answer.

I didn't bother replying this time. I was wading through the ballroom, eyes darting from one face to the next.

"Wrong way." Now the mystery texter is taunting me! How ignoble!

An idea popped into my head. It wasn't surefire, but it was worth trying. The phone was back open and the unidentified caller's number was highlighted, but instead of hitting 'message', I pressed 'dial'.

Through the din and gentle roaring of the collective host, I heard what I was searching for: a ringtone, the theme to the Ghost Eraser movies. My feet stealthily carried me in that direction. Being my height, it wasn't too hard to slip beneath the human foliage. If I could only catch them off-guard…

Another message: "That was clever, but it won't work twice. Keep trying, though."

 I called again, but now no Ghost-Eraser tune sounded out. They must have silenced their phone. My ears did catch something, though, the buzzing of a silent ringer. Gotcha!

I sprinted towards the noise, now within mere feet. My heart leapt, then fell through my ribcage. There was the phone, sitting on a table, there was my number buzzing in its display. But no culprit was in sight. A message was typed out on the inner display: "Told ya." They'd used the old dump-the-tracking-device trick. My shoulders slumped, embarrassed and frustrated. It took a few moments to figure out who the real smartass was here, though, as another idea lit up in my mind. I grabbed the phone and looked in its directory. 'Dad' was near the top. I dialed that.

"Hello," said an old geezery voice. I coughed in reply.

"Morty, what's up, have a cold?"

"My apologies," I hung up.

Checkmate!

It took some time searching the ballroom, and then more time sneaking up on my target-

"This belongs to you."

He stared blankly at his cell phone. The surprise gave me enough time to slap the bastard across the cheek. I called him that.

"Cheeky bastard."

"You are cute when you're upset."

"Morty, you're twenty-two, act your age."

"I would ask you the same thing, but then you wouldn't be half so adorable." I slapped him again. By now everyone was staring at us. Morty rubbed his cheek, where it had turned bright red.

"Jeez, you still hit like a karate pro." I had nothing to say to that, the pain could speak for me.

Morty smiled despite the sting, clearly enjoying himself. His blonde hair was rumpled, probably from being held up by a headband most other times. His body was athletic, probably because he still biked, hiked, and swam when not pursuing his myth-hunting hobby. His eyes were tired and deep, like outer space, and I could sense that underneath the jokes he was thinking of something completely different.

You see, we had a history. It could be summed up in a line: I was pragmatic and he was idealistic, and never the twain shall meet. Or they did meet, but violently and catastrophically.

"I've gone three years without having to put up with your antics, I'd as soon make that four. Do not play games with me."

"So I take it you're doing well?" he asked.

"Yes, I was doing well."

"What do you mean, 'was'? I hope you're not implying I'm the reason for your interrupted bliss."

"I never respected you, never liked you. But, at the very least, I expected you would have grown out of such childish behavior when we left middle school, but you know what? The entire Indigo charade proved you'll never be anything more than a nuisance and a scoundrel. So, yes, your very existence is a blot upon my life."

"I'm sorry, I really am. However, when throwing accusations of "childish behavior" around, just keep in mind I'm only trying to be your friend. You could stand to take a joke."

"Friends don't send provocative texts to each other! Friends don't bully and tease each other!"

"Oh? That's not what I hear. You seem to be in plenty of hot water with your own acquaintances these days." He began circling me, making me uneasy by walking to my periphery.

"Where did you hear that?" I demanded, turning to keep him in my sight.

"Sources."

"Tell me!"

"Maybe I'm only guessing. Maybe I have spies. Maybe I'm psychic."

"No mind games, tell me who it is."

"Ah, can't. It would be a great unkindness to them, especially given your violent tendencies." He began strafing again.

"Tell me!" I grabbed him by the collar to hold him still.

"Temper, temper, you don't want to dig the Battle Tower's grave, do you?"

Those listening perked up, perhaps irked by the weak come-back. Or rather, it sounded weak to them, but I was fuming. Some context is necessary.

October 5^th, 2003

Let's go back nine years. I was twelve, entering Ecruteak Middle School. My family had temporarily moved to Ecruteak due to a complication in my parents' careers. It wasn't that I hated Ecruteak specifically, merely that the town was somewhere not-named-Olivine. I missed my city by the sea, and said so, vocally (read: twelve-year-old balling their lungs out), before eventually being dragged to a dingy townhome and thence thrown into a new school system with a new dress and a pat on the back.

"My name is Jasmine *mumblemumblemumble*" and my surname was lost amongst inaudible stammering. Before me was a class of strangers who all seemed bigger and older than me. Of course I was nervous and embarrassed, and self-conscious to a degree that my cheeks were fire truck red. My head came down in a deep bow to hide my shame. There was a modicum of understanding by my new teacher as she ushered me to a remote corner of the classroom.

"Psst." From the next row over came a hushed plea for attention. I turned and surveyed my caller.

"Huh?" 'It' was a 'he', and he had messy blonde hair that he didn't care for at all, and a smug smirk on his mouth that eschewed an averagely handsome face. Not that I was going to give him any credit for his good looks. "What?" I whispered back, hoping no one else heard.

"Are you a Pokemon trainer?" he asked, pointing to the Pokeballs poking out of my backpack.

"Shhh!" I didn't want to get in trouble for talking in class. My cheeks were already red from the fear of it, and I bolted my eyes to the book to make sure I was keeping up.

A minute passed, and I took a momentary glance to look at the boy. He was busy looking like he was paying attention, but in reality was juggling a pair of Pokeballs behind his back. Impressive dexterity skills, but I stifled any sign of being impressed. Besides, there was something wrong with this picture. My own hand crept to my backpack pocket.

"Hey!" I whispered, angry at realizing that I'd been robbed.

"Hmm?" He was slightly grinning, and just giving me a sideways glance.

"Those are mine! Give them back!" I held out my hand under desk level. The boy refused.

"Don't you want to know my name?" he said.

In answer, I grabbed his hand, and the Pokeballs fell to the floor with a loud plastic thud. Every pair of eyes in the room turned towards us, most prominent of them was our instructor's. I swore I was done for. My eyes closed and I held my breath.

"Morty! Don't you dare corrupt the newcomer on the very first day. Leave her alone," she said sternly. My eyes opened, I began to breath, but only slightly; I was a little surprised when she automatically went for the boy.

Did he have that bad a reputation? I wondered. I stooped over to collect my Pokeballs, and got a wet finger stuck in my ear for it. A whisper was passed into the offended orifice.

"Meet us at the gym during lunch, it'll be worth it!"

Curiosity, accursed curiosity, tis the only explanation for sneaking off to the gym during lunch period. Inside were six or seven guys and two girls. They were all chattering excitedly and waiting. Not even wanting to be seen, I hid behind the bleachers and watched the proceedings.

They were just mulling around, though. Nothing organized happened. It felt like they were waiting for someone, their leader, probably the guy who had embarrassed me in class. At the thought of the prankster my temper rose.

"Boo!"

I didn't jump in fright, I whirled around and slapped the perpetrator in the cheek. He stumbled a bit, shocked at the counterattack.

"Jeez, sorry." Morty strolled out onto the floor, or strutted, to be accurate. He acted like he owned the place.

"'Kay guys, we've got half an hour! Let's get working!"

"D'ya have it?" Eager, expectant faces turned to him.

Morty grinned and unzipped his backpack. Inside was an old binder of some sort. The edges were stained in crimson; at the time I thought it was blood. The boys babbled, the girls squealed.

"Hey, new girl! You're a trainer, right? Come help us!" Morty waved me over from my hiding spot. Reluctantly, I tip-toed forward.  

"What's this about?" I asked, sounding angry to hide my unease.

"Don't you know?" one boy asked.

"Hey, don't pick on her, she's not from around here, remember?"

"What's going on?"

The blonde boy waved behind him, towards the far set of bleachers. Specifically, at a narrow gap between the bleachers.

"Jon found a break in the wall while snooping around the bleachers last week. It looks like it leads to the old basement, the one they sealed off."

"Why go down there?" I never should have asked.

"Because…" Morty looked side-to-side, conspiratorial eyes and grin and all, with his minions nodding eagerly in anticipation, "…it's haunted."

"OoooOOOOooooOOOOoooo!" Sound effect courtesy of the gaggle of students.

"It's not haunted," I insisted, rather dourly and feeling cheated out of a lunch period.

"Oh, you have no idea," Morty said. "You haven't heard the stories…"

"Like the cheerleader who went crying to the locker room because her boyfriend broke up with her. They found her body stuffed into a tiny air duct, all twisted and broken and ugly!" piqued in one of Morty's buddies.

"And the teacher who went crazy! No one ever got the whole story, but her last words before running out were 'the paper-cutter, why? WHY?' And they said she never took her left hand out of her pocket…"

"And the message written on the kitchen wall- in blood! And no matter how many times the janitor whitewashed it, it always came back the next morning!" added a third.

"It's still there, behind the freezer," Morty finished looking smug. "And the best is right here." He pointed to the gap in the wall with one hand and held out the binder with the other. Inside were jammed all manner of papers, clippings, collages, and artworks.

"Every game night the janitors have to clear off the bleachers beforehand, and they dump all the trash into one bin. I had to do this for detention last year, and when I actually looked at the trash, I found this!"

He lifted a page showing a crude crayon drawing of a teacher being chased by a paper cutter, clutching a stump of a hand.

"There's lots more… the piano player who was found hung with his piano strings, there's a short story about the bully who got lost in the basement for three days, the Magikarp heads found in the beef stew, on and on. Someone's recording these stories, predicting them, maybe even causing them. But no one has ever seen them leave behind the scraps… they just appear."

They seriously went googly-eyed in admiration of Morty's knowledge. He stood and exalted in the attention. Then he motioned towards the hole.

"I bet you whatever's writing these ghost stories lives down there, and we're gonna find it!"

"Um…"

The other guys backed off, giving Morty three good steps of distance.

"Yeah… so… by 'we' I meant me and you," said Morty.

"Why me?" I asked.

"'Cause you have Pokemon."

"Why does that matter?"

"It might be dangerous…"

"This is silly," I declared.

"Is not!" he yelled back.

"Is too, and I'll prove it!" I marched towards the hole in the wall and jumped in.

"Wait up!" Morty hurried to follow me inside.

It was dark. It was cold. It was damp. It smelled.

It was not haunted.

I firmly believed this and marched forward.

"Tell me you at least have a flashlight!"

"Here."

Cht cht, fwoosh!

A flickering flame lit up, creating a blob of light in the darkness. Morty handed the lighter over to me.

"What are you doing with a lighter? Do you smoke?!"

"No! Lighters are important for occult rituals, any ghost-hunter will tell you that!" I stared him down. "How do you think they light all those candles?" Not impressed, but I wasn't going to waste any more time down here.

We were pretty deep in now, and I couldn't be 100% sure which direction led back to the opening. Nor did I realize how cold it was going to be down here. I had to hold myself with one arm to keep from shivering. Something loomed up ahead.

"Morty what is that?"

"Hehehe."

A hand reached under my dress and flipped the hem up, exposing my panties.

"Eeek!" I screamed, whirled around, and tried punching the pervert. To my shock, no one was there.

"Morty I'm going to kill you!"

If this entire ordeal was a hoax to get me down here, well nice going pig! I'll make you pay for this!

"Morty!!!"

There was no sight nor sound of the teen.

"Morty this is not funny, come here and take it like a man!"

In reply, nothing.

I stumbled along, trying to find my way back. No good; I must have lost my orientation, and only ended up by an old pumping unit.

"Ehehehe…"

"Ha!" I dashed ahead, chasing the giggle. Nada.

Something tugged at my dress again, I whirled to get them, but my dress was stuck. I fell face-first onto the mucky floor.

Something light fell on my face. I reached up and grabbed it with an iron grip, hoping to catch Morty. It wasn't Morty, it wasn't even sentient.

"EEEEEEKKKKKK!!!!!" It was my panties, my bottom was suddenly exposed and I was screaming and furious and felt over-the-top violated!

"That's enough!" I screamed. I chucked my first pokeball. "Magnemite, go! Flash!"

The little ball-of-steel pokemon burst out and immediately obeyed. The electrical sparks fused, lighting up the entire basement at once.

"Wah!?!?"

"Haunt haunt haunt haunt! Hehe haunthaunt!" Before me floated a jaggedy blob of ectoplasm, laughing its non-existent ass off. Otherwise known as a Haunter.

"A Haunter?!" My face grew red. Behind the Haunter, Morty stood in a trance, victim of the Pokemon's Hypnosis. "Dang it! Magnemite, Thundershock it! Thundershock it dead!"

Haunter laughed and disappeared into the cement floor, letting the Thundershock fly over it and hit Morty.

"YOUCH! Huh? Wah? Jasmine, are those what I think they are?"

Eh? Noooo! I realized I was still holding my panties. I dashed behind a support stud to put them on.

"Your stupid ghost is just a stupid Haunter, idiot!"

"Oh… That makes sense."

"Don't just stand there!"

"Buhboo!" Haunter's face appeared out of the support stud inches from my own. I fell back in shock, flailing.

"Get away you dirty perverted ghost!"

Magnemite floated over to help me. Haunter's eyes lit up, staring Magnemite down. Magnemite stopped, confused.

"Haunt haunt! Larllrlrl." Haunter released convoluted streams of nether, enveloping my Pokemon. Twas a Nightshade, and the confused Magnemite dropped to the cement.

"No!"

"Hehehe!"

"Jasmine, what's wrong? Where's the Haunter?"

"Over here doofus!"

Haunter appeared behind my neck and put his big, slimy tongue all over it. I screamed again. Morty was by my dropped backpack, rummaging around.

"No more!" I chucked my second pokeball. The basement suddenly became much more crowded.

"ONIIIIIIX!" My twenty-seven foot rock snake circled around, eager to fight. You can bet he was gonna fight, and kick ghostly tail!

"Rock Throw!" I ordered. Haunter sensed the danger and flew away. The debris hit the wall right as it phased through the surface.

Magnemite's Flash faded as the Pokemon fainted. We only had Morty's dim lighter now.

"Hmm…" What would this thing do now… oh. Right.

"Onix, Rock Throw at me!"

"Oni?"

"Do it!"

More debris hurled straight at me. I jumped, just in time to see Haunter appear under me, trying to grab my panties again. He got a face full of rubble instead, knocking the ghost silly.

"You know, I'm going to catch you, so I can beat you up over and over and over…" I declared, just as a red and white thing flew past my head. The pokeball hit Haunter straight on, flashed, wiggled a bit, and then lay still. Morty sprinted over and scooped it up.

"Alright, my first Pokemon!" he declared with an excited glee.

"Hey!"

"Yeah?"

"That was my pokeball!"

"So?"

"That was my fight! My Onix beat it!"

"But I really wanted a ghost Pokemon! You wouldn't be a good trainer to it."

"Give it back!"

"No!"

"I said give it!" I screeched. Morty stuck his tongue out and clung to it the tighter. He snatched the lighter too, and made off with our only light source.

"I've had it with boys today! Onix, Earthquake them all!"

"Onix!" The ground rumbled and tossed and broke apart, and it seemed like the whole world fell to dust.

Chapter Text

As it turns out, the old basement was not sealed because it was haunted, but because it was unstable. Onix's Earthquake triggered a collapse beneath the gym that left behind a hundred-foot-wide sinkhole. It slowly swallowed the entire gym and part of the rest of the school. Thankfully no one was hurt and no one found out who caused it. To this day, though, Morty refuses to apologize and refuses to let up about it. Worse, every time he brings that stupid ghost out (now a Gengar and the leader of his team) I light up red remembering what it did to me.

"Love your dress, by the way," he said casually.

"Shut up, I never wanted to so much as hear about you ever again!"

"Oh that's funny, since I've been hearing a lot about you recently."

A figure in the background inched away. I recognized him.

"Volkner?"

The young man flipped around without a word and departed.

"Guess you didn't know, me and Volkner are buddies. Now what's this about you being a misandristic little shrew?"

"You're… Volkner's buddy?"

"Jasmine, don't you know anything?" Morty sidled up to me, closing the gap between us, and making me uncomfortable.

"Don't touch me."

"Why not? What's there to touch, anyways?" he said, pretending to rub a pair of invisible boobs. I fumed. By now the girls had found me, and so did Morty's crowd, and quite a few others.

"This is sexual harassment!"

"Hey, are these your friends?"

"Morty!" Whitney shouted, and promptly hugged the guy. Then head-locked him. Typical of her. Morty took it good-naturedly.

"Whitney, been awhile! Oh, Lyra too! Congrats on the League Title! Oh, and this one's a stranger, but lovely nonetheless. I gotta say, you've found quite the company Jazz!"

"Do not call me that!" I retorted.

"But the music is about to start! Hey, let's all sit down together!"

"Yeah!" Whitney chipped in. Erika and another lady from Morty's group began chatting amicably.

"Sure," said another. The others nodded and I was left behind to stutter, lip trembling. Morty patted me on the head.

"Lighten up."

He tailed them to a seat while the band began playing. The head singer was speaking in the mike.

"It's been hard times, I know, for everyone, but especially hard on our gov. workers, our soldiers and firemen and aide workers. They're fighting the terrorists, and the madmen, and the hurricanes, and wildfires, and hunger; and way overseas they're alone and away from their families. So before we get this party in gear, I just want a slow melody, to honor the hardworking men, women, and Pokemon putting their lives on the line for all of us. This song is for them, it's called 'Lonely Bones'."

Just what I need. A song about missing your special someone.

This gala was getting worse and worse.

I couldn't stand there being sour, with the lyrics whispering on:

"Heart's gone cold,

So far from home,

No one to call my own,

Fillin the hole,

Where is my soul?

She's on the line,

A voice on the phone…"

I hate this.

I slipped into an empty seat, hopefully unnoticed.

"Missed ya."

Morty smiled.

Everyone else stared at me awkwardly.

I needed to divert attention. How?

"What were you talking about?"

"Oh, yeah, the music." The chatting resumed.

I listened, of course. I didn't add anything either. You know how these conversations go. Blah blah hey you blah blah this is so funny blah blah blah. One thing leads to another and by the end everyone is confused as to how they arrived at the strangest of subjects. It's even worse on one's sanity to suddenly pay attention in the midst of things. For instance:

"I like to lick it really hard for a minute or so."

"What?!" I snapped-to hearing this tidbit. "Did I just hear that right?"

"Yes, Jazz, it's exactly what you're thinking."

What a pervert! Oh wait… That face he's making…

"Jerk."

"We were talking about sewing. What did you think we were talking about?"

"Jerkass," I reiterated. Besides, why would a guy get into a conversation about sewing? This smells like a trap.

"Seriously, Jasmine, what were you thinking? You strike me as the type."

"What type?"

"The one who over-reacts at the mention of anything the tiniest bit sexy because you're actually thinking about it 24/7 and embarrassed about the fact."

"I am not a disgusting perverted male!" I shouted, throwing a dirty napkin in his face. He wasn't the least bit fazed, or dissuaded.

"You're saying you don't have the least bit of interest in that stuff? Mmm? Or maybe…"

I glared at him, fuming.

I'll strangle you! With barbed wire! I tried to telepathically drill the message into his head. It did not work.

"Jasmine is too shy, she'd never say one way or the other how she feels about it," Erika offered.

"But sometimes you can read between the lines."

"And what are you reading right now?" Erika asked.

"Well, sometimes when you say one thing, it means another. And sometimes, when you hate something with a passion, it's more like a fascination. Which leads me-"

"Oh stop bugging her, it's not so important," another lady chided.

"Really? I was pretty sure it's the norm, at least."

"Not everyone is like us, bro," another of Morty's friends said sternly.

By now, I had an inkling as to what they were at, but I didn't want to say it aloud. How could anyone say that aloud? It's improper! And gross! And-

"He means sex, Jasmine," Whitney explained.

"I know what he means!" I screamed loud enough to startle the musicians up front, and gained an audience equaling the population of this ballroom.

"Ehe." Not funny. I shrank into my chair. The music resumed and most people turned back to their own business.

"Really, I find that hard to believe," Morty chipped in again. "There's a difference between knowing and knowing."

"Shut up Morty. Everyone's different when it comes to this."

"Really?" Morty leaned forward in his seat, grinning and glancing about the table.

I wanted to stop him. I wanted to tell him to shut up, or physically stop his jaw from moving. But, something stopped me, held me back. Dread?

"Who here's done it? Come'on, show your hands!" Morty looked round the table, encouraging them with wild waving. No one offered, till he raised his own hand high towards the ceiling. "Come on. Jeff, I know you." Jeff raised his up, not looking particularly happy about it. Then the next guy. Then one of Morty's lady friends. Then- oh God- Whitney's appeared in the air. One by one the rest of the table raised their hands, till only two others were left. I looked to Lyra and Erika.

"Tell me we're not all animals," I begged.

Erika slowly raised hers. "We're adults, Jasmine, you should expect this," she said gently. My teary eyes turned to Lyra.

And, wilting, but achingly, her hand crept skyward as well.

"Lyra? Lyra?!"

"Well, me and Ethan… you know… we like each other a lot."

I'm going to cry.

I'm serious. I'm crying. These are tears blurring up my vision.

"It's not like it's a big deal." Whitney came to my side.

"Don't cry!" Erika took my other arm. I couldn't help but bury myself in the proffered arm. This was not me. This pitiable weeping creature was not the same ironclad gym leader of this very city. That girl had guts, resolve, nothing shook her ego. That girl and this one couldn't be the same.

Pull yourself together you brat!

After a few minutes, the sniffling stopped. My emotional high passed into glumness. The aftermath of that little disaster passed by, forgotten for the moment by the others. As for myself…

Why?

Why'd they have to pick on me? More accurately, where'd my youth go? My innocence?! How was it possible that everyone had grown up except me?

No, that's not the way to phrase it. I was the mature one. I can keep my head high, my virtue intact. It's everyone else, as soon as this imaginary barrier called "adulthood" had been breached they forget everything about what they were taught and chuck themselves headlong towards hedonism. It's not like this was the first time I'd thought about the subject.

There were times when I was shocked by the stories of my old schoolmates; upstanding kids who ended up smoking, or on drugs, or partying wild, tattooing their bodies, in the dumps, or gambling-addicts, or worse. That's not just it, either. Everyone moves on, everyone grows up. Sometimes it's not so repulsive, sometimes it's as happy as it is shocking; my cousin joined the military, Beth moved overseas, Aron got married at 22. I'm happy for them, really, proud even, but to me, when I knew them, these are all things that only existed in the future, always in the future. The fact that it was happening, this becoming an adult thing, stressed me out; it was coming too fast.

They didn't need to make it worse by shoving the issue in my face like that.

 What am I going to do?

"Jazz." The perpetrator's voice floated over the table.

Ignore him.

"Jazz."

Ignoring you, leave me alone.

"Jasmine."

"What?!"

"Seriously, relax. It's nothing to be ashamed of."

"I'm not ashamed of being a virgin, I'm proud!"

"Of sex, Jasmine, of sex. It's not a cardinal sin."

"Morty, please."

"Tell you what, I'll make a bet." He raised his voice.

"Huh?"

Morty tapped his glass, gaining the table's attention again.

"Hear ye, hear ye, ladies and gentlemen, as I make this solemn prophecy. By the tick of New Year's Day, some three months far, our dearest Jasmine and her virginity shall part, and she will be made the happiest woman in Johto."

Some laughed, some cheered. I wanted to start crying again, but held back, barely.

"Seriously?" Whitney ejaculated.

"That sounds ostentatious, Morty," said Erika. "And who do you think will do the honors? You?"

Morty was taken aback, but only feigningly so.

"Me?! Well now that you mention it- but alas, only if the wind blows so; I merely state she needs to be laid, and will be, by next year. Count on it."

"I'm sick."

I got up and left. No goodbyes, no tantrums, nothing. Just left.

Need I explain? Need I?! Must I justify myself before all these buffoons, these cretins, these bastards, these PERVERTS?!?!

 My head and my feet were storming. I felt well within my rights to create the drama-equivalent of an F5 tornado and God save the soul who tries to stop me! I should strangle them! All of them! Not just Morty, who deserves it ten times and more for all he's ever done to me… but Erika! And Whitney too! Why didn't they defend me? Why'd they take Morty's side? What is wrong with everyone! Why is everyone against me?! I hate them! I hate I hate I hate I hate I hate I hate I hate HATE HATE HATE THEM!!!…

Wow… Take a deep breath. Calm down a little. Think.

Why me, huh? Don't just rage on and on, vent your rage. Answer your own question; get mad but be productive about it!

So think! What is wrong here? Why are you being ganged up on?

I was a virgin, in a world full of non-virgins. How was I going to come to terms with that? Give in, and accept the inevitable? Was such a thing even possible? Could I ever, even in my fantasies, sleep with a boy? Or should I close myself off, become a hermitess and grow old without ever seeing my body invaded? I'd be the gnarled, batty witch of Olivine City, all alone, but at least then I'd be innocent…

NO!

I deserve better! I deserve to be happy! I deserve to live my life on my own terms! There is nothing wrong with being single, with being untouched, inviolate! Even in this modern world I refuse to believe I am not a proper human, cannot live a normal, healthy human life, without giving into lustful urges, urges I don't even possess! I will live how I want! I will be as sexual or asexual as I want, and not let anyone, not Morty, not my friends, and- God smite me if they even try- my own parents tell me otherwise! That is my solemn vow!

But…

If I believe in these words so strongly, and I do, I know I do…

Why am I crying?

I'm alone, on a slick wet bench, looking out onto the starry night sky above a black ocean, and I'm in tears. I thought I promised myself, so long ago, I would never cry again, but there's something wet puddling in my palms and it's not the ocean spray. I want to stop. I want to be stronger than this. I want to be that woman I'd promised I'd be when I took up the gym leader job. So why can't I stop?

Why?!

It's as if…

There's something there, just out of reach. A memory I can't remember, and even though it stays in the dim regions of the mind, it still haunts me from so long ago. It's like a dark cloud- as I'm searching for it, dashing from one memory to the next, bringing to surface every misfortunate, miserable experience of the past ten years, it's there, torturing me, causing me to break into a fresh set of tears. Those memories, those cursed memories…

…

…for every time that Morty humiliated me in middle school. Calling me names, picking on my childish looks, preying on my temper and stubbornness. How he corrupted every friendship I tried to create with the opposite gender- poisoning their minds with thoughts of a "relationship", and not the innocent kind: insinuating into their male minds they could "have" me if they tried hard enough.

…

…of Volkner, and Kyle, and Peter, and Troy, and Terrence, and the hundred other boys and men who thought they could have me. The better ones, like Volkner, so shy and modest it was disgusting, but at least they respected me, or at the very least respected my wish to remain single. But then there are the others: Kyle, who stalked me for weeks until I called the police. Percy, who had it in his mind I should have been drooling at the prospect of being asked out by him. Edward, who when rejected, went into a rage, called me obscenities and spread lies about me. The bitter, soul-draining feeling of warding off so many unwanted advances has been taking its toll on me for a long time now.

…

…the frequent heckling of my Mother, who always asks about my relationship status. And although she means well, there's this hint in her voice that I'm doomed without a man in my life. Innocently vicious remarks about my career, what others think of my status, and how if I don't pick a good man soon, I'll fall prey to a bad one. And as for Father, he's no better- not because of what he says or does, but the way in which he never, ever defends me, or shushes Mother, and acts like my personal troubles don't matter.

…

…getting left behind during couple's night. Being a third wheel when another friend brings her boyfriend. Being the ignoble subject of blind dates, or signed up to dating websites without my consent. Being pushed away from social groups, not actively, not out of maliciousness, but purely by the way I just didn't fit in. It's at a point now, if Erika and Whitney abandon me, if I can't even keep their friendship, I might never reach out for human contact ever again.

…

…and memories of being called out for being a virgin, at a public gala, by a so-called "friend", in front of everyone.

…

Over it all there's a pall, a dark cloud, a miasma that poisons my life. A reason why this one issue, this "boy" issue, has to be my greatest fear and woe. But in my present distraught mental state- I just can't remember it. I can't get at the heart of the matter. And realizing that, I broke down and cried. Not softly, not to vent my anger anymore, nor channel my sadness, no longer caring to remember, or think, or feel rage or sorrow or any other emotion; I just wanted to let it all out and sob till the end of time.

At some point I simply ran out of tears. I was tired, and achy, and didn't care about anything or anyone or even my own immediate situation. I was just relieved when sleep finally came over me, because it meant an end to this miserable night.

Chapter Text

Bzzzt.

Bzzzt.

Bzzzt.

I say goway! I toired!

Despite my mumbling protests, the buzzing noise continued. After a further minute of incessant aural irritation I was finally aware enough and irked enough to do something about it. My hand flailed around for the source of the sleep-murdering vibration.

It was in my handbag. Of course, it would've been my cellphone buzzing. Who wants to talk with me, anyways? I don't want to talk with them. I'll just tell them to shove off and return to snoozing.

I fumbled around, blindly trying to get the electronic device into an operable position. Seriously, I should invest in voice mail. -Grr, which end is this? It's so hard to tell with groggy eyes!- That's one more thing people can pick on me for, no voice-mail. It makes me look relatively pre-historic in this age of techno-gadgets. Isn't text messaging good enough though? I would think, with texting being newer and hipper and more convenient, voice mail would just go the way of the Kabutops. Anyways, pre-waking babbling aside, I finally got the phone right-side up.

"Hewwo? Who idis?"

"Jasmine! It's Erika!"

"Why you call me? You mean last night. You side with fwat boy."

"Jasmine, oh my gosh, what happened to you? We were so worried, we couldn't find you anywhere!"

"Meh. Not happy with you. Shush, lemme sleep."

"Where are you?! Jasmine! Please don't hang up!"

"Blah!"

"Jasmine, it's 10:08! You're late for the certification exams!"

"OUCH!"

"Fuck!"

Oh, I know I shouldn't swear and at any other time it would be extremely uncharacteristic of me, but- "fuck!"

There I go again! But what else am I supposed to say after realizing my tardiness, flailing about, forgetting I was on a bench out in the open, and falling over onto my face! At least the grass muffled my language; I would die if Erika heard that word out of my mouth.

"Are you okay?!"

"Yesh. I t'ink. I just slept on a bench, that's all. Urgh, I'm all a mess." More thanks to sleeping on a park bench in front of the beach than falling over, but still. My hair was frazzled and even my scalp felt soggy. There was sand in my shoes, and the grimy feeling of sea-mist all over my skin. My eyes were still refusing to open fully, and didn't like the glaring eat-straight-through-the-eyelids sunlight. My gala dress was in relative ruin, having not been made for lying down in, let alone sleeping in the elements in.

"Don't fuss, just hurry! When you get here, I'll have stuff to wash yourself-"

"Erika," I interrupted her.

"What is it?"

"I don't want to see you today. At all."

And I hung up on her.

I suppose one night was not enough to get over what had happened. Hopefully, sooner than later, I can forgive them, and we can be friends again. Not today, though.

"Ouch!"

My back hurts… and Battle Tower is still a mile away!

I tried running, stopped for want of breath, started again, nearly tripped over myself, and ground to a halt. My little lungs begged for air.

Must… keep… GOING!

Ten minutes later:

"How late … am I?" Ellipses there for the giant inhalation needed. I had tried to run, but the dress shoes hurt my feet and threatened to trip me over. I tried to take the shoes off and then run, but my bare feet hurt even more: my soles seemed masochistically determined to find every rock and pebble on the road from there to here.

Nonetheless, I had arrived.

"You're so late you're lucky, little girl." Blue hair, blue eyes, outlandish fantasy skinsuit, breasts the size of my head- it could only be one person.

"Clair."

"If you sign up in the next, oh, ninety-seconds, you might just get into the K-block. You should know that Lance is supposed to be judging those fights-"

"Thanks!" I gave her the most curt bow and continued sprinting towards registration. For whatever speed it would give me, I took my pokeballs out and flung my handbag away. Nothing but the bare necessities…

"Registration is now CLOS-"

"Wait!" Without thinking I chucked my pokeball onto the desk. Magnemite appeared in a flash and landed with a thump on the table. The staff member was not amused. I huffed and puffed the final few yards, whereupon I collapsed on top of the table alongside Magnemite.

"I need to register."

Mr. Preston looked down on me in obvious agitation. He ran the Pokemon Center here in Olivine; they must have drafted him for the exams.

"I see. Do you have your I.D.?"

"Wah?"

Of course I have my I.D.? It's right… here… in my non-existent handbag…

"I don't have it," I said, bitterly smiling.

"I can't sign you up with no identification."

"For God's sake, you know who I am!"

"Eh. Rules are rules… Miss Jasmine."

"There, you just said my name! Can't you let it slip?"

"Nope." Was he enjoying this? No, by his expression, he's just a natural-born hard-ass.

"Please? Can you just hold registration open while I go get it?"

"Maybe… if you hurry."

"Thank you!"

For the third time in this young morning I found myself dashing away, without the real energy needed to do so.

"No!" My handbag wasn't where I tossed it. My vision darted to every corner and direction, scanning the ground, hoping I had just misplaced its landing. It was useless, there was no sign of it.

"Jasmine! I think you dropped this."

"Oh thank goodness!"

It was Lyra, carrying my bag in her arms. I reached out to take it, but she only half-offered it to me.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"Well, Erika and Whitney are really worried about you. She told me how you hung up on her. Is everything going to be alright?"

"Yes, yes, only if you give me my bag. Tell them I need more alone-time, 'kay?"

"Okay. And Jasmine, I'm sorry for what happened."

"Oh no!" I put my hand on her fore-arm, trying to reassure her. "There's a history behind this; Erika should've known better, but I can't blame you for not knowing."

"Still…"

"Can't talk now, sorry, bye!"

Truthfully, I didn't want to talk to Lyra. Of course I didn't blame her, but she was still involved in last night's debacle, however tangentially, and that wasn't a subject I could afford to revisit. Not while my career was on the line.

Just my luck today- as I ran back towards the registration, hopefully the last sprint required of me this morning, my sole found the lone loose carpet-staple in the floor.

"EEEEEK!" I screeched from the pain pulsing up my leg.

"Eeek! Eeek! Eeek! Ouch! Ouch! Owww!" Oh yes, I continued to screech and yelp, one exclamation for each step it took to get back to registration. Pain is not that big a deal when my future was on this line. Still…

"Oww! Oww! Oww! Oww! Ouch! Ouch! Owwiieee!!!"

I slapped my state I.D. on the table. Mr. Preston simply shrugged in resignation.

"Put me in!"

I ought to be preparing for the exam. I ought to be going over notes, memorizing league rules, planning for the live-battles, checking on my pokemon. Instead I am massaging my feet in the lobby fountain. Of course it's wasting precious minutes before testing starts. Of course it's unsanitary in the extreme. And of course I would be lectured if caught by the staff. But it FEELS. SO. GOOD!

 Please understand, Mr. hypothetical public-health-nazi, I NEED this. My feet are in excruciating pain. They are torturing me, practically begging for a reprise. If they don't get the relief of a cool, pain-numbing bath, I might as well become an invalid. How can I take the exams if I can't even walk? I'd rather die than be bound to a wheelchair for the rest of my life.

Fine, fine, I admit: I'm nervous and frazzled. Ranting is merely a way to channel my frustration away from the real issue. Or rather, "issues", plural. The anthropomorphized catastrophe that is Morty and everything surrounding him; and the more immediate issue of how to keep my job.

Nine pokemon battles awaited me today. Three against league officials, six against my fellow gym leaders. Depending on how well I do, I could get a pay raise, or lose my gym leader title. In my current state, I expected the latter, depressing as the thought was.

"Attention. K-Block participants should now report to Battle Hall Sixteen." The announcement repeated again. It was time.

I entered Battle Hall Sixteen with an unhealthy dose of apprehension. The other gym leaders of the block were milling around, waiting for the proctor to arrive. Some glared at their competition, others stared into the ground. Only a few were tending to their pokemon. The gloom in the air was palpable, and became self-reinforcing- my own mood was plummeting.

Let me explain.

A-Block was reserved for the top tier of gym leaders. They were strong enough and competent enough to need special testing in order to challenge them. They also partook in special training, because they were expected to represent the Pokemon League in more than the ordinary capacity. One would need to be as strong as Clair, for example, in order to qualify for A-Block.

B through I-Blocks were more ordinary, and assigned strictly on a first-come, first-serve basis.

J-Block was our special-needs/equal-opportunity (read: handicapped) block, as required by national regulations.

And then there was K-Block.

K-Block existed solely to make subpar trainers even more miserable. It's where all the rejects, outcasts, lowlifes, and baddies of the Pokemon League end up during the summits.

Miss your battle quotas for two straight years? K-Block.

Third-time probation? K-Block.

Your gym doesn't meet upkeep codes? K-Block.

Register late for exams (like me)? K-Block.

Break League rules? K-Block.

Stage protests accusing the League of corporate corruption? K-Block for you!

As part of the punitive measures included in K-Block, the battle exams begin almost immediately, with no time to prepare, and typically against a notoriously tough proctor. Some crazy gym leaders relish the prospect, and intentionally come to K-Block for the fights. Looking around, I'm sure I can spot a few fitting that description. That one guy wrapped in a parka, for instance, and is that Lt. Surge? Sometimes, they didn't just want to fight a tough proctor, these kinds of thugs enjoyed beating up the weaker gym leaders that make up K-Block. I hope I don't have to battle anyone like that.

"Listen up, mongrels, you're here for a reason! Do as I say and maybe a fraction of you will get away with a pay cut! Now line up against the wall!"

With the voice of a drill sergeant, our proctor arrived. As Clair promised, as I should have expected of K-Block, it was none other than the former League CEO and Elite Four leader, Lance the Dragon Master. Our grades are supposed to be scaled against the skill of our opponent, but nonetheless, I couldn't help but audibly gulp.

Lance motioned to two assistants, also Dragon Masters by their apparel, as they set up the battle floor.

I fumbled towards the wall, trying my best to get into the middle of the line. Being first or last was never a good idea here, and everyone seemed to know that too. They pushed and tugged, vying for the center while trying not to attract attention from Lance.

"Stop diddling with each other! Just take a spot!" Lance's outburst spooked the group. The mass of bodies quickly solidified into an orderly line. In the bluster, I found myself second to last; hardly a fun place to be.

 The battles began. Lance and his subordinates took one gym leader each, allowing three battles to be fought at a time. Each round was 3v3, and we'd be fighting 3 rounds in a row.

"I hope I don't get Lance," said a stranger in front of me. The first testee saw her Tangrowth blown away by Lance's Dragonite in a single hit. Lance smirked with satisfaction, before shouting for a new round. The Tangrowth user reluctantly healed her pokemon. A few minutes later, and lasting barely longer than the first round, the Tangrowth was again wiped out. By the third go-around, the gym leader looked broken, and Lance seemed almost happy about it. By contrast, the other Dragon Masters didn't seem so keen on destroying their foe's confidence.

"Please not him," I prayed.

This state of affairs continued as the line wound down. What had been gloom and apprehension before was quickly turning to panic. I gained a new appreciation for why the last few spots in the line were feared: being at the end allows you to witness everybody else go down in flames beforehand.

"Next!" Lance shouted.

My turn.

"Go, Magnemite!" My first Pokémon, who I knew desperately needed to be leveled. I cursed myself for even considering bringing it. It was the junior of my two Electric/Steel Pokémon: my middle-school Magnemite had long since evolved into Magneton. Magneton was also here, though, and my Steelix, of course. Still, the redundancy was going to hurt me, especially if…

"Dragonite, Earthquake!" Magnemite didn't even get to move, let alone defend itself, let alone attack. The seismic waves ripped through the ground, disjointing and fainting my Pokémon.

"Magneton, go!" I prayed and hoped Magneton's greater defenses would hold up. "Use-"

"Earthquake!" The attack that preyed on the common weakness of both Magneton's types- yeah, it was an instant knock-out. Not even its Sturdy ability could save it, such was the difference in power. My knees were shaking.

"This is some really pathetic defense for a Steel-type trainer!" Lance exclaimed. Did he get off on torturing gym leaders? Is he a sadist?

"Steelix!" My last Pokémon, and he was also weak to Earthquake. Never mind he carried the move himself, it would be useless against the flying Dragonite. The best I could hope for is… Rock Slide?

"Steelix, Rock Slide!"

"Earthquake, once more!"

The seismic waves arced out yet again, hitting Steelix. Even from where I stood outside the arena, I could feel the vibrations shaking me. At Steelix's range, even a normal attack like that would be painful. Even through my own despair, I felt my heart going out for my Pokémon.

Steelix survived, barely, and pounded the ground with his tail. It was fortunate that these floors were purposely made up of dirt and clay, like in my own gym. In moments it was broken up into debris. Steelix launched a wave of it in Dragonite's direction.

"Dodge and Earthquake again!" Dragonite flickered to the ceiling, avoiding most of Steelix's attack.

"No way!" I whispered, fearing.

Dragonite slammed to the ground, causing a fourth and final Earthquake to ripple outwards. Steelix collapsed, momentarily fainted and officially out.

"The battle is over. I win," Lance declared, the opponent and judge at the same time. The bastard. "That was terrible. You'll have to do better if you want to avoid consequences to your Leadership status."

I had only one reserve Pokémon, a Graveler. I had been neglecting her for a long time, and wondered if she would even obey me. Besides, she still held that terrible ground weakness. I bit my lip in frustration.

Even though it wouldn't be any help at all, I switched her in for Magnemite.

"Round two!"

"Graveler!"

"Earthquake!" was all I heard. Graveler rolled over a few times, stopping in front of me.

"Magneton?"

"Earthquake!"

It was hopeless. Yesterday I had been crying over my social life. It was unfair, I had spent all my tears back then! I can't handle my career dive-bombing too! And yet, here I was, down to Steelix, again.

"Use Rock Slide, but aim higher!" The first Earthquake hit, predictably, weakening Steelix to near-critical. This time, Dragonite was prepared for the Rock Slide, and immediately hugged the ceiling. The debris' aim was better, now, however, and clipped its wing.

"Rock Slide again, quickly!" I implored.

"Extreme Speed!"

Dragonite's wings stretched fully out, then shattered the air. The hefty Pokémon skittered around the edge of the arena in the blink of an eye, catching Steelix from behind. Steelix's Rock Slide churned the ground but was nowhere near the mark.

"Rock Slide! Behind you!"

"Earthquake!"

Steelix's tail thrashed the ground, breaking it apart. It tried to launch the rocky conglomerate towards its rear, but Dragonite wasn't even there anymore. The dragon thumped the ground once, on Steelix's flank. The seismic waves arced, and the battle was over.

"One more round. Heal up." As I turned to take my pokeballs to the healing machine, I caught Lance in the corner of my vision. He wasn't smiling or gloating, though. He was shaking his head, and frowning.

The usual tone indicated the machine was finished. It always pained me, these things. I felt like it was unnatural, forcing my Pokémon to be healed through them. Nature made healing a slow, smooth process. This was a forced, artificial recovery. It was worse now. I was making my Pokémon fight a battle they couldn't win, taking damage they shouldn't have to. It was all unfair!

No challenger ever came in with something as obscenely powerful as that Dragonite! Why should my Pokémon have to be on par with it?!

Quit whining! Think about Steelix!

My gaze wavered between my pokeball, with Steelix inside; the arena, chewed to rubble; and Lance- who had not even bothered to recall Dragonite yet. Things began clicking into place for me. It wasn't a way to win. But I didn't have to win, so much as…

"Let's get this over with. Round three!" Lance shouted, now again wearing that big, evil, piss-worthy grin on his face.

"I'll be wearing that stupid grin in a moment," I muttered.

"Go, Graveler!" Graveler came out, looking worse despite the healing.

"Earthquake!"

"Endure!"

"Gavvva." She didn't even obey me. She tried to tuck herself in, I suppose to Rollout, but that was pointless. The Earthquake wracked the ground around her, fainting her.

I'm not done, yet- I thought, even though I probably was. I sent out Magneton.

"Haa!" Lance cried out from the opposite line. "Don't you have anything new? Dragonite, you know what to do."

Dragonite slammed the ground, and the waves arced, and-

Did nothing. Magneton stood by.

"Oh? What's this?" I wasn't about to tell Lance that his constant Earthquaking, and my Steelix's tearing up the landscape for its Rock Slide attacks, had crumbled the surface down to a find dust. It was the consistency of sand, now, and sand doesn't transmit seismic waves as efficiently as compacted dirt. Lance was a Dragon-type user, his Pokémon probably borrowed all kinds of tactics, moves, and abilities. His knowledge of all the different types would be shallow, however. I wouldn't expect him to know the fine details of Ground-type attacks.

"Flash Cannon!" Magneton charged up a shot. Its metallic surface shimmered, using its own skin like a mirror to focus light energy. It fired.

Dragonite took it on the wing. The force was such that it whipped around a half-circle. I had finally got a hit in!

"Fire Punch."

Dragonite continued its circle into a large arcing motion, and suddenly it was right next to Magneton.

"Dodge!" Useless. Damn useless. The heat-enhanced punch went straight through Magneton's defenses. It fainted, a searing dent visible on one of its heads.

"I'm sorry." I retreated Magneton back to its pokeball. "Steelix, this is it. I'm sorry."

"Fire Punch," Lance commanded. Dragonite used Extreme Speed on its own to close the gap in a blink; it was a sign of expert training for a Pokémon to compliment its master's orders with its own moves. Just seeing it nail Steelix with an ultra-fast Fire Punch brought home the difference between me and the elites of the Pokémon League. At this point, even considering what would happen, I wasn't really in the fight. I was adrift somewhere, contemplating a life after being a Gym Leader.

"Rock Slide!"

"Dodge."

Dragonite whipped out of range of Steelix's Rock Slide. It swooped around for another Fire Punch.

"Get out of there!" I shouted, tepidly, to my Pokémon. Steelix did so.

"It's out of the rubble, use Earthquake now!" Dragonite slammed the ground.

"Magnitude, 7." Steelix's Magnitude sent its own waves throughout the arena. Dragonite instinctively lifted off, avoiding the attack. Yet, it wasn't useless. The Magnitude and the Earthquake cancelled out, saving Steelix from being knocked out.

"Steelix, get back on the loose dirt."

"Fire Punch, keep up the pressure!"

"Dragon Tail!" Dragonite ran right into it. It didn't even know what happened, nor did it have time to figure it out. My behemoth metal snake flattened its foe's noggin with his tail, hurting the dragon and sending it back to Lance. Its pokeball blinked rapidly several times, then dimmed.

"Well, that's new," Lance commented. He tried chucking the ball out again, but it refused to open.

"Dragon Tail knocks them out of the battle for a short while, you should know this," I said, with a faint sense of hope.

"Oh I do… but Dragonite should be able to resist it. He really is that strong. I wonder why not now?" Lance's grin was gone. In fact, his entire demented tone was gone. He sounded more thoughtful than gloating. I had expected- what, shock?- out of him when I turned the tables. Not even that. He just stood still in thought. I still had yet to actually faint any of his Pokémon.

"It can't be helped." He shrugged his shoulders. "Charizard, go!" And the fiery lizard appeared. And before I could react, Steelix was staring down a Fire Blast and its entire upper body was glowing crimson.

"This round and set are over. I am the victor." Lance trotted over to me, staring me eye to eye. His demeanor completely changed again. He was no longer thoughtful, nor maniacal. His voice had the sound of calm seriousness, a tone fitting of a League Champion. "You can wait for the summary near the end, and you're still going to have to fight the six matches against your fellow Gym Leaders, but I can tell you this right now- that was completely underwhelming. You'll not be able to keep your job."

"That's not fair!" I screamed at him.

"Fair? Fair?! If you wanted a fair match you should have avoided the mistakes that brought you to K-Block! This is not fair for a reason, it's punishment for your failings!"

"What failings!" I screeched. He refused to answer. I lurched off, holding myself tight, to keep from shaking apart.

The sidelines came into my field of consciousness, promising a brief respite from the emotional violence of the defeat. I sulked over to them and took a seat, knees tucked into my chest. Some Gym Leaders were already beginning their matches with each other. Some looked happy, some looked gloomier than me. I recognized Bugsy in the crowd. He seemed oddly sad and happy at the same time. After he lost his match, he saw me and took a seat at my side.

"Tough day, isn't it?"

"Yeah." I nodded in agreement.

"Lance ran you over too?" he asked.

I nodded again.

"That's fine. I think it'll all work out. A girl like yourself, you'll do okay, right?"

I nodded, but now reservedly. I hope he's not trying to come on to me. I can't deal with men in general, let alone weepy losers trying to use me to soften the burden of their own failings. Besides, how was I supposed to cheer someone up, with me being in my own sorry state? Damn it, Bugsy, go away!

"You're getting fired too?" I asked.

"It looks that way. But it's okay. I'm happy."

"Why?"

"Do you know Kris?"

"I remember her."

"She just confessed to me yesterday. She's going on a tour of Kanto, and I want to go with her. I was going to have to put my position at the Gym on hold, so… this works out. I can always come back and fight to get my job back, right?"

"Mmm."

"I really want to see Celadon. You're friends with, Erika, right? I wonder-" and he went on without seeing if I was paying any attention.

He wasn't interested in me. He had his own girlfriend. They sounded happy together. He'd even throw away his job for her. Was love worth that?

And what he said, could he come back? Or really, could I come back, reclaim my Gym after this? Was it possible? Did I want to?

At that moment, a crack and a collective gasp  sounded throughout the room. The light of a dying Thunder faded from the air. In its wake, a decimated Dragonite lay fainted. Above it stood a Raichu.

"Well, whadya know!" Lt. Surge stood laughing his butt off.

"That's impossible," Bugsy said. Lance stood agape at the scene, obviously thinking the same sentiment.  The Raichu proceeded to quickly chew through Altaria and Charizard, and the so-called "Lightning Lieutenant" became the first Gym Leader to defeat Lance today. I believe the popular terminology for this kind of occurrence is: "curb-stomp!".

"What was that?!"

"I saw it," said a stranger. "Dragonite wasn't looking too well before the match. Maybe it's sick?"

I would have pondered this further, disbelieving the notion that a Raichu could defeat the monstrous Dragonite, but my name was called out. A middle-aged guy in a sweat-suit wanted to battle. I obliged, if only because I wanted my mutual matches over quickly.

Six rounds later, I stood at 2 wins, 3 losses, 1 draw. The draw came courtesy of a Graveler Self-Destruct, used against my will and almost certainly out of spite. Steelix carried me through in my two victories, but he wasn't enough for the rest. This portion of the exam counted as far less than the official matches, anyways, so I was doubtful that a flawless win streak would salvage me from Lance's prediction. When finished, I took the seat nearest the commissary desk. I only wanted out of there as quickly as possible.

Someone tapped my shoulder.

"Pryce!" An unexpected face in a sea of gloom. I actually smiled. Here, finally, someone's company who I could enjoy. A man, no less, the only one I trusted.

"How are you doing, Jasmine?" He took a seat beside me.

"Terrible."

"That's a bother." The white-haired veteran's smile turned to a slight frown. He saw me shivering (partly from my emotional state, partly from the excessive air conditioning) and without a word, spread his blaze-blue long coat across my back. I snuggled into the wooly interior, not wanting to say so, but deeply appreciative.

"I… I don't want to be a bother to you, Mr. Pryce. I'm not a decent person to be around at the moment, so I understand if you just wanted to say hi and-"

"Nonsense." He took my hand and gripped it.

"You're much too lovely a young lady to be saying such things. There is more for you to achieve in life than what a few lost battles could overturn; these are only setbacks."

"Thank you." From a man, or a boy, this would be flattering, and therefore, flirting. I wouldn't be able to tolerate it. But I knew Pryce and what he had been through, and I couldn't fault the old man for anything. It kind of put my own suffering in perspective.

"How-w-w did you do?" I asked him. Even in his old age, he still insisted on leading Mahogany Town's Gym.

"It was tough, but in the end I passed with flying colors!" He smiled jestingly. "It was over quick. I heard about you and Bugsy being stuck in K-Block so I came to see how you two faired."

"Hehe. Bugsy."

"I'm glad you think it's funny, but love is not a game- it's truly sublime."

"So you know already?"

"I do."

"About me," I clarified.

"Ah? I wasn't aware you had fallen for anyone. It would be quite uncharacteristic of you, to say the least."

"Oh, so you don't… you were just talking about Bugsy. I see."

"Why, did something happen?"

"Not really," I lied.

"Mmm?" Wrinkled old mentor used Inquisitive Eyes on me. I deflected it with Steely Gaze. Inquisitive Eyes are not-very-effective. My silent little inner dialogue brought a slight grin to the corners of my mouth. Pryce took that as a sign to allow him to get to business.

"So, well, I took the liberty of picking up your exam results. I have them here." He unveiled a stack of folders and shuffled them till the sought-for file came on top. "Not pretty, I must say so myself. But it's not the end of the world."

"Meh."

He opened the folder and read aloud.

"Trainer: Jasmine Mikan. Gym Leader of Olivine City Gym. Rating: Sub-par. Oh. Hmm. Well that's terrible. This- Results: Needs substantial improvement in battle technique and Pokémon strength. Must learn to adapt to new environments and battle conditions. Pokémon need fundamental training for strength, reflexes, and tactics. Needs to assure discipline and obedience from entire roster. Must bring tardiness issue under control. Action: Gym Leader License-"

"-revoked, I know-"

"-put on probation. Must demonstrate improvement in all categories by December 10^th or else forfeiture of Gym Leader License will be enacted."

"Pr-pr-probation…?" I stuttered the word, several times.

"You may not have seen this, but I was watching your matches, and the one right after. Did you not notice Lance never, not once, healed his Pokémon today? His Dragonite defeated all comers, until Steelix. Steelix put up a bigger fight than anyone else, and eventually forced Dragonite to retreat, even. Your Steelix was the reason he subsequently lost to the Lieutenant. You should have seen Lance's face when he approached the desk. He was dumbfounded! He personally told the grading officials to not revoke your license."

"I'm… still a Gym Leader?"

"Jasmine, I've known you since you were a child. You were such a sweet child, too. Then one day you changed, and I don't know why. But I wouldn't say for the worst. You became colder, but also more… hmm… determined. It's refreshing to see a lady with some resolve in her, these days. I know you have both traits in there, the resolve to see this through, and the happiness to sustain it. Let me see them both once again, eh?"

"I'll try," I said, embracing the geezer tightly.

Chapter Text

Considering the previous night, I think I can be excused for going straight home that afternoon and flopping into bed. I woke up around 2:00 in the morning, long enough to attend to necessities and set my alarm. I remember dreaming something, but can't remember what it was. At 7:30 I was up, and by 8:30 I stepped into the Battle Tower facility once again. Today was reserved for written exams.

"What Pokémon makes use of a Sun Stone for evolving?" I read. That's easy, it's Bellossom.

"What is the minimum required Pokémon per challenger during a federated qualification match?" That's not so easy. I guessed three, as I vaguely remember federated tournament matches also requiring three Pokémon per side.

"Explain in detail what situations a trainer may receive a Gym Badge despite not defeating the Gym Leader." I believe that if a Gym Leader is unable or refuses to discharge their functions, a trainer may request a substitute Gym Leader for battle. A trainer is also eligible for a Gym Badge if the match was interrupted, if the match involved external factors that biased the match towards the Gym Leader, if the trainer performs acts of service to the community that demonstrates their mastery of Pokémon, or if the trainer successfully completes a challenge under the statutes of section… 5… I think, of the Gym Leader rulebook. Eligibility is determined solely by the Gym Leader, and complaints and violations of section 5 should be registered with the regional Pokémon League's Ethics and Internal Affairs department.

"What is the maximum distance a Pokémon Gym may be located in relation to a Pokémon Center or other facility capable of handling emergency treatment and healing of Pokémon?" I remember my gym being about halfway to the maximum distance to our Pokémon Center, so… two miles times two is four. Four miles.

Thus went the exams, one question after another, after another after a mind-numbing another. Some were open ended, others multiple-choice, others requiring short essay answers. Only a third of them really dealt with Pokémon themselves, most were concerned with the statutes and rules governing competition. The hardest were the gym facilities requirements- I never bothered with the intricate setups many gym leaders use, so I didn't have half the rules governing that kind of stuff memorized.

This intellectual marathon lasted, barring some short recesses, for eight hours. My brain throbbed unremittingly from the pounding it had received. Tired, exhausted, relieved, I slumped over the desk after turning my answer booklet in. Inwardly I thanked my mother for nagging me to study during the previous week. I was going to put it off till after the gala, but given what happened there, her forced study-sessions had proved to be a god-send.

Ugh- Mother.

Despite her well-meaning, and as seen here, occasionally useful advice, I couldn't stand to live with her again. If I lost my job at the gym, I wouldn't be able to pay for that cramped prison I called an apartment. Then I would be forced to stay home, and would be under her thumb 24/7.

Chores, every day. Not merely house-keeping; dishes, laundry, vacuuming and the like. I despised un-cleanliness- one of the reasons I switched to Steel-types was because they were much cleaner to keep than my Rock-type Pokémon. So, those kinds of chores were not a bother. It was the superfluous stuff that got on my nerves. For example, weeding her vegetable garden. And organizing and cleaning for her book clubs. And delivering goods for her catering service (shouldn't I get paid for that?)

"Ugh."

I needed to get past this probation, fast. 

"What's the matter?" Bugsy sat beside me again.

"Nothing," I replied.

"How do you think you did?"

"I passed, probably."

"That's good. I mean, did you also pass your battle exams?"

"Not quite. They put me on probation."

"Ha, me too!" he said with a quiet laugh. "Doesn't matter. I already told them I'm quitting. Wonder who they'll pick in my place."

"Do you think they'll go for another Bug-type specialist?"

"Yeah, probably. I told them they could look into the National Park Bug-Catching Society, they have a lot of good trainers in there who'd like the job."

"That's good."

"Yeah. I'd hate to leave it in the hands of some punk who wanted to change the gym. There's a history, there, you know? With the Ilex Forest nearby, Bugs have always had a place in that town."

"Mmhmm."

He sighed.

"I miss her."

"Kris?"

"Yeah."

"She's not here?"

"She had family business to take care of before the trip. But she'll be here tonight."

"That's good."

He sighed again. We talked for another ten minutes, mostly about Pokémon, and then saw each other off. I was left with a strange feeling. It was just a normal conversation, so why did it unsettle me?

I couldn't puzzle it out.

Time ticked away as I contemplated the daunting task of overcoming probation. There would be extra work to do, certainly. That was expected, and my life wasn't so busy that it'd be a great impediment. On the other hand, probation also carried stricter standards for my gym leadership. I'd have to keep the gym maintenance score perfect, and bring my win ratio up. That latter requirement was my primary fear. My ratio had been dropping like a rock in the past year. It felt like the trainers were getting much better, the battles that much harder. I don't know if I have the confidence to do it anymore.

"Results for the written and battle exams will be assessed and sent to you via e-mail within two weeks. This includes any additional information such as pay raise notifications or remedial action instructions, so please be patient until then."

"And remember, the Gym Leader Tournament will be hosted tomorrow starting at twelve noon. Be sure to visit registration in the main lobby and sign up by no later than ten o'clock if you are interested. Instructions and rules can also be found in the lobby."

"Enjoy the rest of the summit, and see you next year!"

The closing announcements for exam day faded from the intercom. The remnants of K-Block sat around, inwardly distraught or weeping in relief. The area was slowly being vacated. I wanted to stay, though.

What I wanted was to not socialize. I haven't had any alone time for myself in the past 48 hours. I haven't visited Amphy at all. I haven't even had time for my Pokémon team. Like I said, those healing machines are unnatural. They do their job, but the Pokémon don't get the rest they need.

A yellow sliver caught my eye. Erika was patrolling the hallway outside. She was wearing a sun-colored yukata with maple-colored floral print. My first reaction was to admire the garb; my second was the sudden and horrific realization that I was still wearing Erika's dress from the gala; my third was the compounded horror of how I must have appeared to the many young adult males in the room today:

-this dress shows off my entire bare back!

-and the hem's less than halfway to my knees!

-And it's all wrinkled and crap!

-I look like a little slut!

-Noooo!

My final reaction was to dive for cover behind the media desk, not out of shame, but to hide from Erika. The bob of black hair poked its way through the door, pivoted about for a few seconds, then retreated.

"She's gonna kill me. I ruined her dress and now she's going to kill me. She's going to get me while I'm sleeping and pour poison down my ear. I don't want to die!" This was my panicked excuse for hiding from her. Truthfully, I still hadn't come to terms with what happened the other night. I didn't want to come to terms with it. I wanted Amphy.

Amphy is simple. Amphy is loving and undemanding. Amphy has no aspirations on my virginity (and damn that bastard of a man-child Edward for spreading that bestiality rumor!). I'm like a little child who needs their pillow when they've had a nightmare, and Amphy is my pillow.

Thoughts of snuggling with Amphy motivated me to motion. I got up, patted down the dress, and walked out of the classroom, though not before checking for Erika.

The lobby was semi-crowded, and the sun flared on the horizon, hazing the room in red light. I tensed a little, because I spotted both Erika and Morty, at the same time. The former was stalking the main entrance. The latter was waiting in line for tomorrow's tournament. Whitney was by his side, and the two were chatting lividly. I was pondering how to slip by, when opportunity presented itself in a gift-wrapped box. A large crowd burst from the hallways, making a ruckus and disturbing the peace of the lobby. By the looks of the trainers, it must be A-Block. Perhaps they were just told of new pay raises, or how special and powerful they were, or something obscene like that. Whatever, they put the room into momentary chaos and gave me an avenue for escape.

I dipped into their midst, and began heading for a side-door.

"Jazz! Jazz it's really you!"

NO! I ducked, swiveled, and tried to identify my accoster. A large, burly man in a cowboy hat was barreling down the lanes.

"Clay!" Another voice shouted from behind me. A woman dressed in punk fashion and white-dyed hair ran out to embrace the man.

"How yer doing? How's your sis? Roxie doing a'ight?"

I face-faulted.

Literally. Face met floor, and my nose hurt for it. I will say it was mainly due to losing my balance out of panic and not the sheer surprise factor like in anime.

But still- WHO NAMES THEIR CHILD JAZZ?!

Yes, "I mad".

I caught a glimpse of Erika drifting my way, probably hearing my middle-school moniker and coming to investigate. Thankfully she hadn't spotted me. A convenient wall of people formed, so I darted for the side-door and was out.

"Free," I sighed.

In twenty minutes I could be feeding Amphy, playing paw-paw with him, holding his nuzzle in my hand. Rubbing my hand through the yellow-and-black, fine-haired fur. Amphy would want to snuggle, and then play cards. He was smart enough for Go-Fish, and always wanted to play once-a-visit. Thinking about it considerably lightened my mood. Not that I felt completely better, but- I wanted to try being happy, for at least a minute. I tried skipping.

"Hehehe." I giggled.

This dress was actually pretty comfortable. If only no one had to see me in it!

"I'm home!" I announced.

"Amphy?" I lowered my voice. The Pokémon might have just woken up. He has to sleep through the day, of course.

"Amphy?" No reply.

The lighthouse was essentially an elevator/staircase with a two-floor suite situated on the top. I was now roaming the first of these floors, searching for my most beloved (and occasionally most troublesome) Pokémon. To my consternation, he was nowhere immediately to be seen, and the floor was quiet.

I checked Amphy's bed, but it was vacant. I put my hand to the fabric. It was warm, and crackled with light static electricity. Amphy had recently woken up, then. My search continued onto the second landing. The mast where the Pokémon kept vigil during the night was also vacant. The automated machines that directed Amphy's Flash into the sky were still on standby. The windows were closed, keeping the room stifling hot. I opened them to let the evening sea breeze flow in. The sun was clipping the western horizon, casting the ocean in ever-darkening shades of rouge.

I spotted a bulbous tail, like a Christmas ornament, swishing back and forth. Amphy was sitting at the railing outside, staring off into the sea. He looked preoccupied; I decided not to disturb him for the moment, but just watch.

He wasn't doing or watching anything in particular. It was like he was contemplating something.

I don't understand Pokémon psyche too well- obviously they're smart enough to follow commands, and they have their personalities and emotions. But, do they think the same way we do? Do they philosophize? Do they become depressed and try to reflect on it?

Was something bothering Amphy?

An itch assaulted my throat, prompting a small cough. Amphy's long ear twitched.

"Ampha ampha ampho! Aooouuu!" The creature perked up and found me. "Pharooo!" I smiled. No, most Pokémon couldn't speak in the human language, but I imagine these random utterances had a real meaning.

"Come here," I motioned. Amphy shook his head.

"Amp!" He thumped his tail on the floor twice in succession. That was his way of saying "no, you come here!". I obliged. I was worried about my sandals so I took them off first, then sat on the edge, dangling my legs through the railing. The ocean waves broke on the rocks some one-hundred feet below us.

"What's the matter?" I started stroking his long neck. Usually he arches into it, wanting me to scratch or massage. Or when he's annoyed, he jerks away. This time, neither. He sat still and was silent.

"Something the matter?" I repeated.

"Rooo." A low coo, nothing else.

"I'm sorry," I said, as if I understood him. "It's okay. I'm having a bad time too."

"Roo."

"I can tell you about my life and you can tell me about yours. How's that?"

"Roo."

"Well, there's this guy, I've known him since middle school, and he has been, since the very first day, an irredeemable ass. He plays pranks on people, preys on their fears and insecurities. He always goes on and on about others, making jokes at their expense, but never takes a joke on himself. He has no humility or consideration! What's worst, a good deal of it is crass jokes about sex. The man has no shame, either, an unrepentant pervert. And now he made an ass out of me! Me!"

"Roo."

"What kind of world do we live in? Does it really revolve around who's poking who in which hole? I mean, what's left there for love? I can't understand men at all. I wish there was something to their logic beyond what their dick tells them, but I can't see it."

"Roo."

"He wanted to have sex with me."

"Roo."

"There are men who can, at least, keep what they really want private. Boys like Morty, who shove it out into the open? It's more than being perverted. Men are men, they can't help it. But they can and should control the way they express it! What Morty did was just wrong. That goes beyond deviancy, that was designed to get under my skin. That kind of crap really sickens me."

"Roo."

"I don't want to open myself to just anyone. It should be special, sacred, even. I don't know. I don't know."

"Roo."

"At this rate, I don't think I'll ever give it up. Certainly not to him."

"Roo."

"And to think, he had the gall to claim he'd bed me by New Years!"

"Boys!" I muttered. The rant left me exasperated. "You're the only one I can trust." I hugged Amphy tightly.

"Ampha."

"The world is a terrible place, Amphy. Be glad you don't have to deal with it."

"Ampharoo." The boy Pokémon nuzzled my arm.

"Do you want to play cards?" I asked. Amphy dislodged himself and pitter-pattered inside.

"Okay." But instead of his quarters, Amphy alighted on the  mast.

"But it's not that dark yet," I protested.

"Koouu!" He shook his head. He pawed the lever to manually start the machinery. Humming noises emanated from within the walls and ceiling.

"What's the matter?" I asked. Did my bad mood infect him too? I tried holding him, but he pushed me away, little paws smacking my hands down.

"Fine."

"Muuu." He tapped both his ears with his paws. I stood staring. He repeated the gesture thrice, before I realized he wanted me to put on music. I took out the radio and set it beside the mast. Tunes from the Goldenrod Tower filled the room. It started with hop-hop.

"Mu." Amphy tapped me, making me change the station until we landed on a modern orchestrated piece. "Aoo."

"Are you going to be alright?"

"Kaaooo!" I barely understood this utterance in time, turning my back. Amphy took up his customary posture, lying down with tail held up. His Flash lighted. What had been a dim, late-evening-shaded room instantly turned brighter than the midday desert sun. I couldn't even look in Amphy's general direction. The whirring noises indicated mirrored lenses sliding into place. They focused the light into a beam, then sent it rotating out into the sky.

"You sure you'll be fine?"

"Rooo! Ampha!" It might not mean anything, but, and I realized it was the same with humans, it's the tone, not the words, that conveys real meaning. Amphy's cry had a "leave me alone" tone to it. There wasn't anything I could do. I departed, carrying out the same glum mood I came here to dispel.

"What's wrong with him?" I wondered.

A few minutes later I was down on the streets. It was fairly dark without the extra height of the tower- the sun was below the horizon down here- and the streets lamps hadn't turned on yet. I found myself groping along and having a hard time of it. That is, until, for a moment, the rotating beacon swept through the street, lighting it up.

"Hmm." Amphy was guiding me home. I smiled, but only faintly.

I pay 72,000P a month for this. My nose is wrinkling. Three days ago I had given the room a cursory cleaning. The organization did not survive the interim. My last breakfast lay on the desk, a bowl filled with stagnant milk. By its side lay my little netbook computer, which was opened and out of battery. Laundry and sheets lay strewn everywhere, the result of a frenzied search to find clean underwear. Dust had built up on every surface.

Beneath my own mess, the apartment itself was not particularly high-quality: Cheap carpet, easily stained. Power outlet covers coming unscrewed. Dents, scuffs, scratches appearing on plain white walls, slightly soiled. Internet access: profanity-worthy. Toilet jams infrequently, but usually with terrible luck of timing. Mildew building up in hard-to-reach corners of the bathroom. Hot-water lasts for exactly six minutes, twenty seconds, give or take four seconds.

"Ugh." Erika's dress was added to the great pile of laundry. I'm not taking care of that tonight, it can be done tomorrow.

I don't want to go to sleep. Or rather, I can't, I'm too agitated. Morty, exams, probation, Amphy, I have too many worries and stresses at the moment to find slumber, even when unconscious bliss sounds exquisitely welcoming to me right now.

What to do?

I'm hungry.

What's there to eat? I opened my fridge.

"Eww." Milk, past due. Salad and sandwich dressings. A single tortilla. Celery sticks.

How about the pantry? No cereal. No soup. Rice, but the jar is near-empty. Flour-  no eggs in the pantry. Waffles? No syrup.

"So, tortilla. Where are you? There you are." I plopped into my twin-sized bed, tortilla roll in mouth. It's late, so I don't want to go for groceries. Tomorrow.

Everything's tomorrow.

The Summit ends tomorrow. I'll have to be there to do some paperwork. While I'm there I might as well watch the battles. It's going to be difficult or impossible to avoid Erika, so I'll have to make up with her. I'll root for Whitney in the tournament. I'll go grocery shopping in the afternoon, and put my dirty clothes into the washer before I leave. I'll have to throw on something dirty while it runs, unless… I got up for a moment to check my closet.

"Um… no." I had one outfit that was still clean: my high school uniform. The gala dress was bad enough, I couldn't go out in the uniform if there was the slightest chance Morty could spot me in it. Morty. I hope he loses, badly, tomorrow. Back to laundry; I wanted my summer dresses cleaned before the work-week, which means I'll go out in shorts and… ugh- T-shirt.

I slid back into my bed. Sheets went over my head. I moaned out of frustration. I buried my head into my pillow.

These are the motions of an ordinary, empty life. Without friends, without hopes and goals, life just devolves into a matter of survival. It's an endless accumulation of small, tedious chores to keep us clean, fed, watered, facilitied, and rested. It's a routine that creates loneliness and nihilism. I don't like it.

I thought that maybe that was the reason so many girls dove into a relationship. But if that's the case, I don't like that either. Where were my options?

Suicide. That'd get rid of the tedium real quick.

Hell no!

I hit myself over the head with a fist in reprobation. That was no way to think. I would gladly join the military, much as I loath it, before I went down that path.

But still-

"Oh woe is me!" I chanted several dozen times.

It was a long while I spent staring at the cover of my pillow. My clock read 10:32, but I still wasn't tired enough to fall asleep, nor motivated enough to get up. I crawled out of bed only long enough to use the facilities and grab my netbook. The tournament wouldn't kick into gear until one o'clock. I set my alarm for eleven. Make that eleven-fifteen. Sleeping in is a guilty pleasure for me, but tomorrow I'll indulge. I think I deserve it.

The next four hours were spent mindlessly playing SimKingdom. I don't remember falling asleep.

Chapter Text

The alarm was preemptively snuffed out, and I continued into dreamless bliss. It was 1:00 P.M. before I woke up. By the time I snacked on the celery sticks for breakfast, threw the clothes into the wash, showered, dressed, and ran out the door it was already 2:10.

Battle Tower was remarkably quiet. There wasn't a single Gym Leader in the lobby, just the staff and a pair of regular trainers. I thought most people had already left. I asked the receptionist about the vacancy, but she ignored me at first.

"Excuse me!"

The receptionist seemed resistant to pulling her eyes from her computer screen.

"I'm so sorry. Do you need help?"

"Where is everyone?" I asked.

She pointed towards her monitor. "Oh, yeah! Everyone's on Floor 3. The tourney just got hot! No one's missing out on it."

"Really? Where is the tourney?"

"Floor 3, Battle Halls 1 and 2. Better hurry, they're already on the quarter finals!"

I gave her a short bow in thanks and ran off.

The elevator was too slow, so I took the stairs, two steps at a time. The upper landing was crowded, even skinny-me had trouble weaving through the excitable trainers. Still, before long I had pushed my way through into Hall 1.

The crowd was gathered around the arena, but no one was fighting. I tugged at the sleeve of a by-stander.

"Excuse me, what's going on?"

"They're seeding the next round."

"So you're waiting for them to announce the match-ups?"

"Right."

"Thank you very much." She nodded and dove back into the fray. Like her, they were all jostling for a better view of the arena before the match started. Battle Tower had mentioned how problematic spectator seating, or rather, the complete lack thereof, was. I wasn't about to put my frail body into the mosh pit, so instead I began circling the exterior. I was torn between finding a seat, and finding my friends. I wanted to see them, but at the same time I didn't want to confront them over my recent behavior. The thought of it distracted me as I picked my way through the forest of bodies.

"Woah!"

"Oh, hey." I nearly bumped into him, and it took a second to recognize him.

"You're Lyra's friend, right?" he asked.

"Yeah… Ethan?" I conjured up the image of a high-school youth in cargo shorts, hoodie, and ballcap, with spiky, overgrown hair and doofy grin plastered onto his face.

"You remember!" he said. The years-old image did not match with the person standing before me. He hadn't grown, really, but rather, aged. That, and he was in a business casual suit, and his hair, still dark, had a more conservative cut to it. What's more, his expression was different. He looked much more tense and serious now. Mature, that was the right word.

People change, I reminded myself. I guess it can be a good thing.

"How've you been?" he asked.

"Good enough," I replied. "I heard you and Lyra are dating?"

"Yeah… Since June."

"Ah. I hope you treat her well." It was difficult trying to remember events from six years ago; I'll blame the stress and lack of sleep. What I can recall is a hot-headed youth throwing himself at my Pokémon team five straight times, losing every time against my Onix. Then Lyra showed up. The pair had been touring Johto somewhat in tandem, sometimes journeying and camping together, sometimes racing off in different directions. After she arrived and understood Ethan's predicament, she helped him calm down and think up a decent battle plan. The next attempt Ethan earned my badge without much trouble.

"That's an interesting way of putting it," he said with an ever so slight gesture of amusement. "I beg your pardon, but have you seen Lyra? I was looking for her."

"I was looking for her too. I haven't seen anyone," I answered.

"Ah."

It was pure coincidence that, not three seconds later, a piercing voice rang over the din.

"Morty you're such a derp! A true derp-a-derp's derp!"

"That's Whitney. Follow me." I took Ethan by the hand without explaining to him that Lyra was probably in close proximity to the name caller.

"Screw your ghosts! As if my Normal-types care about your Shadowballs! Don't treat me like a ditz just because I'm a woman!"

"No, I treat you like a child because you act like a child."

"I am not a child!"

"I've yet to see the proof, honey."

"I'm twenty-one years old, old enough to know that you don't have to act like a too-cool-for-you dickwad to be mature."

"I'm waiting for a rebuttal that doesn't involve name-calling."

Whitney and Morty stood up against each other's faces, brows sweating from a heated argument.

"This isn't about Pokemon, is it? Jasmine was right, you only think with your dick."

"Still resorting to baseless ad hominem. Listen, there's no need to keep arguing the point."

"No, there is! I'm not letting you trample over me!"

They continued on.

"What's this about?" I asked.

"Morty was trying to get Whitney to take a bet based on their next battle. He took to insulting her Pokémon to try to goad her into it."

"Hey!" I turned my head, in surprise. "Erika!"

"Good afternoon," she said. Her manner of greeting had no trace of worry or anger or confrontation. If anything, she sounded relieved, and amicable. Perhaps I'll get lucky after all and avoid revisiting the gala disaster.

"Have you seen Lyra?"

"Right here!" She announced her presence by throwing herself bodily onto Ethan's back. Ethan nearly crumpled under the tackle, but somehow managed to hold up.

"Missed you. Where have you been?"

"Looking for a drink machine. Here you go." He pulled out a bottle of water and handed it to her.

"Thank you!" She smooched him on the lips. I winced. PDA, good miss! Learn the meaning of it!

"So what was this about a bet?" I asked.

"Apparently many of the competitors made bets among themselves. Morty has been fairly aggressive with his."

"What are they betting?"

"Various things. Mostly money, but I've seen a few Pokémon, rare items, a nerf gun, and a bike voucher pass hands." I nodded and turned my attention back to the quarrel.

"Quite frankly, I don't think you're capable of beating anyone still left in the tourney." Morty patted Whitney's head. She immediately slapped his hand away.

"I don't need your assessment or your bet, I don't care about how good you think I am or what I'm capable of, and I certainly don't give a frick about your money. Take your bet and screw off."

"Really?" Morty grinned, mischievously. "What if I offered 100,000P?"

Whitney had been in the middle of stomping away, but she froze mid-step. "There's no way you have that much," she exclaimed.

"True, but…" and Morty tossed something into her hands. "That's worth 150,000P, minimum, let alone what's inside of it."

"This really what I think it is?" she uttered.

I struggled to break in between two other spectators to see what exactly he had tossed to her.

"Yes, it's a Master Ball."

"That's worth a fortune!"

"Not even. That's not just a Master Ball. That has a Darkrai inside."

"There's no way." She clicked the button and chucked it to the ground.

"Draki! Dovani!"

"But- it's supposed to be a legend! They don't really exist!" Yet, quite contrary to Whitney's claim, the jagged shadow-bodied form of a real, living Darkrai floated before us.

"Where'd you get it?"

Morty shrugged in answer. "He's yours if you beat me."

"I don't have anything to match that," Whitney uttered. She stood dumbfounded, but obviously hooked. Understandable, it was a flesh-and-blood legendary Pokémon, who wouldn't want it? I couldn't even conceive of how Morty came into possession of the thing. Certainly not by catching it. He must have some back-alley contacts. Team Rocket, maybe? They had resorted to illegal Pokémon trade just to stay afloat. But if that was the case… Morty, what exactly are you up to?

"Is that a Darkrai?"

Several more figures pushed their way into the arena. The onlookers were already agape at its appearance, but these new arrivals were positively marveled. Erika recognized the foremost.

"Sabrina!"

The woman ignored Erika completely, and pointed at the Darkrai.

"Whose is that?"

"Mine. Sort of." Morty shrugged again. "I'm its owner, for now."

"What's it doing here? How'd you get a hold of it? Do you intend on using it in the tournament?" Sabrina threw out questions rapid-fire, sounding more as if she were discharging commands.

"I was about to offer Whitney the Darkrai if she beat me in the tournament."

"How do you know if Whitney will face you? Have they announced the seeds?"

"No. It's just a what-if kind of bet, only valid if we face each other."

Sabrina bit her lip.

"I'd take that bet, if you don't mind," she said forcefully.

"Oh?"

"Me too," said another, a man with an incredible beard shaped like a shark jaw.

"Everyone wants my Darkrai, do they?"

"No one can afford that, you idiot," Whitney pitched in. Her gaze kept gravitating to the Pokémon, and it was obvious she wanted it just as badly. "I mean, what kind of money would you want in return?"

"Oh, 500,000P. But, you should know, it doesn't have to be money I get." Morty said this carefully, deliberately, as if he had planned for it.

"Like what?" "What is that?" "That is?" said the three other Gym Leaders in unison.

Morty leaned into Whitney's ears and whispered something. Whitney's eyes bloomed.

"What did you say to her?" Sabrina demanded.

"That's typical of you, so typical," Whitney told Morty.

"Of course, I'd offer the same to Sabrina. And that other girl, I saw her win earlier so she should be in the running. Sorry, mister, but this offer's only good for girls."

"I have the money," the shark-beard said. He was completely serious, and by his answer, must be fairly rich.

"What did you want?" Sabrina demanded again. Whitney whispered into her ear briefly, and then Sabrina's eyes opened wide too.

"You're not serious."

"You're a psychic, read his mind."

"I don't use my powers for such things," Sabrina said. She stared down Morty, who made an earnest gesture in the affirmative.

"Fine. It's not like he'll win, anyways," Sabrina said.

"I don't want to," Whitney whined.

"Do you not have any confidence?" Sabrina scolded her. "Do you have any idea what a Darkrai is worth, what one can do with it? 500,000P is a dirt cheap price to wager against it, let alone his demands."

"But…"

"I don't care about you, but I don't intend to lose, and therefore, whatever I have to put up is meaningless."

Whitney's eyes darted from herself, to Sabrina, to Morty, to herself, and finally came to rest on the Darkrai. The Pokémon turned in slow circles, taking in the crowd, completely disinterested in the debate over its eventual owner. Whitney shut her eyes and shook her head.

"Fine, fine, I give."

She turned to stare down Morty, her expression that of a simmering Gyarados. "You're right, it doesn't even matter. You're a lazy sob who doesn't train his Pokémon properly, there's no way I'm going to lose."

"Well then, let's just see how the seeding goes," Morty smiled, victorious.

Despite her decision, Whitney seemed off-kilter and very angry. She saw me and Erika and huffed her way over.

"Hi Jasmine," she said, but not really looking at or heeding me.

"What happened? What did he want?" Erika asked first, because I was afraid I didn't want to know. Whitney fumed silently for a moment, then answered.

"He wants me to be his fuck-buddy for a night," she said flatly.

We waited impatiently for the seeding announcement.

"Who's left in the tournament?" Lyra dashed off and came back with a bracket. "Have a pen?" she asked Ethan, who proffered a pencil for her use. She began eliminating names, until she arrived at the final eight.

"Morty, you (Whitney), Sabrina, I think that grandpa was Drayden, Calvin, Volkner, Fiora, and Maylene."

Whitney instantly flew into a pitched tantrum. "THAT BITCH?!?!"

I would have winced, had I not reflexively steeled myself the instant I heard that name called out.

"No fucking way! How the fuck did she make it to the quarter finals!?!"

"Whitney, language!" Erika cautioned.

"No! That is the one person I won't hold back on! She's worse than Morty!"

As you may guess, there is a history here, and even I, Whitney's childhood friend, was not privy to all the details. I do know that Whitney was badly defeated by Maylene during an important league tournament. And by "badly" I mean a humiliating 6-0 affair, Maylene's Lucario treating her team like a puppy with its first chew toy. Still, the worst of defeats doesn't warrant holding a lifelong vendetta. Whitney has made me to understand that something personal happened between the two of them after that match.

"Well, you've only got a 1 in 7 chance of facing her," I said, hoping to assuage her.

"Fuck, I want to fight her!"

"But what about Morty?" Personally I was hoping Whitney wouldn't see either. Fighting Maylene could only end in reigniting their feud, while Morty had that grossly uncivil bet to take into consideration.

"Oh, hell, I could beat him… But… fuck, I don't know. Damn. Morty first. He'll lose that Darkrai to someone else if I don't face him. Maylene can come later… Fuck a damn fuck!"

"Whitney, it's bad enough to be cursing, but be careful with that particular word," I advised.

"What? Oh."

"And seriously, don't do this. Morty could get lucky and then you'd be on the hook for…" I couldn't bring myself to say it. "I'm not even sure betting is legal," I added.

"But it's a Darkrai. Do you have any idea how strong that thing is?"

"Yes. A little. No."

"He could rick-roll this entire tourney with just it, if they let him! And it has mind control! Think about it, we could get discount day every day of the year!"

"Now that's illegal. As in, against the law illegal," I warned.

"Sorry, just saying. We could play a good prank on Morty, too, that'd show him up. I wonder, if I won the Darkrai, if I could use it in the next round against Maylene…" We took another look at the Darkrai, who had yet to be recalled. It floated serenely, monitoring its multitude of spectators.

"Looks like you don't get a choice; sorry Whitney." Whitney pivoted towards Lyra, then in the direction Lyra's finger was pointing.

The large video screen hanging from the ceiling displayed the match-ups for the next round.

Hall 2:

Volkner v Calvin

Morty v Sabrina

Hall 1:

Drayden v Fiora

Whitney v Maylene

"Awww whatever! At least I get payback." Whitney took to circling me and Erika, tennis-shoes beating the floor much harder than was necessary. Was she more mad or happy?

"Hey Morty!" she belted out.

Morty and Sabrina were eyeing each other fiercely. They each were already anticipating their own battle.

An announcement- "Would participants please report to the judges. Would spectators please vacate the arena. I repeat-" came over the intercom. Morty and Sabrina began walking off in tandem.

"Morty, I was talking to you!" Whitney stopped him by planting herself in his path.

"What is it?"

"Don't you dare lose before I get to you."

"You want the Darkrai that badly?"

"No, not that badly. I'll take it, but the real pleasure's going to be mopping that pretty grin off your face!"

"Well, then, the bet's on?" he asked, unfazed by her threats.

"Yeah, it's on!" Whitney stood defiantly, forcing Morty to walk around her as he left. They say there are seven sins, and Whitney's greatest was easily discerned: Pride. This outcome did not surprise me.

"Darkrai, come back." The legendary Pokémon disappeared in the usual sheen of digitized light. Morty continued holding the Master Ball aloft as he exited, saying this: "Be careful, you might just lose, and I'll hold you to it."

I glared after him. Is he serious? Did Whitney seriously just accept that bet? Why were they suckered so easily? And to think of my best friend getting in bed with him… no! No! No! No! NO! NO! NO! NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!

The unwanted imagery rebounded against my mental and moral bastions, causing me to feel dizzy. My stomach sank, feeling too heavy for having eaten next to nothing today.

"I don't feel well," I said aloud.

"Are you sick?" Lyra asked.

"No, just this atmosphere."

This wasn't what I had in mind by wanting to watch the Gym Leader Tournament. It had gone so far beyond competition. To think they were putting their Pokémon into harms way for, what? Sex? Trophy Pokémon? Revenge? When someone puts their Pokémon out onto the field the Pokémon need to trust that their trainer is doing it for all of them; that they do so for the fun of competition, to see who can excel and win, and have some thrills doing it. This isn't that. This is wrong.

And I felt powerless to stop it.

Erika led me to a stage so that we could watch Whitney and Maylene battle without being packed like Magikarp. Lyra followed slowly, or rather, took her time chatting and sight-seeing. A few of the Johto crew got a hold of her and they started up conversations, leaving me alone with Erika.

"Are you really alright?" Erika looked concerned for me. I gestured towards the arena.

"I'm sick of people acting like kids."

"Why do you say that? It's within their rights, they're grown enough to make decisions for themselves."

"Why is that? Why is it suddenly okay to be hedonist weaklings after you turn eighteen?" I slumped against the podium. "I feel terrible for their Pokémon."

"The Pokémon don't know any better. To them it's just a battle, the same as always. It doesn't matter why their trainers send them out, because they fight for themselves too. They want to compete too."

"That doesn't excuse the trainers."

"You're right," Erika said. She patted my shoulder, the image of a big sister. I wonder if actual big sisters are like this, or if we'd end up fighting more often than supporting one another. I couldn't tell, being an only child.

"Hey Erika, do you have siblings?"

"I do, a little brother. Why do you ask?"

"No reason."

"Hmm?"

"It's nothing."

I understand, Erika, why you give me that look. You want to address the night of the gala, the hostile phone call the next morning, my emotions and the rift that erupted over them. But you're holding back, because you don't want to tread on me. What am I supposed to do with that?

How much courage is it going to take to say "I'm sorry"? More than I can ever muster? When was the last time I apologized? Really apologized, not just an automated excuse? Have I ever? Am I that selfish, that stubborn? I thought I promised not to apologize after that incident. My actions aren't my own, they're the end product of Morty's manipulations, take your guilt-tripping and accusations out on him!

"It will be alright," Erika said.

"Sure," I said.

"It will, trust me."

"How can it be alright? Why do men do these things? Why are women okay with it?"

"Why? I suppose why anyone does anything is one of those questions that you and I can't answer. Maybe a philosopher could, or a neurobiologist. I don't have an easy answer for you, so I can only say 'it just is'. But, Jasmine, I'm concerned for you."

"Don't go there," I warned. She was going to go there. She was going to say it, point it out and put me to shame, for not fitting in, for not growing up.

She was staring at me, making me uncomfortable. I averted my eyes, not wanting to face her.

"Go where? What's bothering you?"

"You!" I huffed.

"Jasmine, if I've done something wrong, just tell me about it."

"No." There were no sins in the catalogue for being stubborn, were there?

"I only want to help you, nothing more. I don't want to force you into anything, or change you into someone you're not. I only want to help."

"Honest?" It's not that I don't trust your intentions, Erika, but that I don't trust what you're trying to do will help. There's a disconnect between what you think is good for me and what I want for myself!

"I promise," she said.

"Still, no."

"Is it Morty?" she asked.

"Don't push me."

"I'm not trying to accuse you of anything!"

"Good, I don't like that."

"Please! Will you at least listen?"

"I can't exactly shut my ears off," I said sarcastically.

"Then please listen. I want to say I'm sorry. I mistreated you during the gala."

What is she apologizing for? The nerve of her!

"I knew those kinds of subjects made you uncomfortable, but I pushed too hard anyways. I let Morty have his way with your feelings, I did nothing to stop him and I didn't follow you out to make sure you were okay or safe. I'm deeply sorry for everything."

"You don't have to apologize."

"But I want to."

"You shouldn't," I reiterated.

"Hush! I'm not done," she took up a more commanding tone. "I'm not saying that Morty was right, far from it. He is every bit the perverted, womanizing moron you believe him to be, and a discredit to his gender. But you and I are adults now, and grown up. Not to the extent that Morty exemplifies, but many men, and yes, even women, are becoming sexual. It's normal, it's how life begins and continues. You don't have to be a part of it, either, I won't ever fault you for not wanting to take part in it. I just want to know how you feel about it, to talk openly, to say something other than 'damn it all!' and stay silent otherwise."

"Why isn't that enough?" I demanded. "You know well enough how I feel on the matter, so why not let me in peace?"

"Because, I want you to be happy, but I don't think you'll be happy so long as you refuse to acknowledge that this side of humanity exists and can't learn to co-exist with it, at least."

"Co-exist? With what? Wagering sex for Pokémon? If that's what sex is supposed to be, no, I won’t accept that kind of stuff. It's demeaning to everyone involved."

"No, Jasmine, I'm not saying you have to condone that."

"Then what?"

"That's Morty, that's the outliers, most people aren't like him."

"Hard to believe when all the others jumped aboard for a chance at that Darkrai."

"Well…" She didn't reply right away.

I know, I know. It's a Darkrai. Everyone has their price and a Pokémon straight out of mythology isn't cheap. Erika was put off balance by my point. I got the feeling even she wanted the Darkrai, and would have taken up the offer had she been in the tournament.

"It's… it's still an outlier, I think. It is, after all, a legendary. And remember, we're Gym Leaders, we didn't get to this position unless Pokémon meant that much more to us," Erika said.

"Hmph."

"That's still besides the point. I wish you could be comfortable around the subject, so you could enjoy people's company, even if they start joking about sex or the like. I think if you and I talked about it, you'd find it's not such an abhorrent subject, and you'd feel more comfortable around others. I'm not saying you should get laid like Morty claims. You're not a bad person for wanting to stay a virgin; on the contrary I think it's rather admirable. But if you let your fear of sex get in the way of interacting with others-"

"I'm not afraid," I said defensively.

"Oh sorry, I mean, your dislike of sex-"

"I don't dislike it," I added.

Erika was taken aback.

"Really?"

"Just shut up. You don't know what you're talking about." I threw this out without thinking, and immediately regretted doing so. Erika drew back, emotionally pained.

"I don't want to explain, but could you please stop prattling on about sex? It's not the real issue here."

"What is?"

I just told you I didn't want to explain! I'm about to hit something! Where's something soft and non-sentient I can pummel?!

"Yo, what are you two doing sitting, they're about to start!" We were interrupted by a familiar voice. Lyra popped into view, dragging Ethan in tow.

I don't want to apologize to Erika; that's just my nature. But it didn't feel right leaving her worried about me either.

"Can we just talk later? This whole summit has put me on edge. I don't feel up to this heart-to-heart stuff."

Erika nodded. "Then let's cheer Whitney on."

Chapter Text

"You're not serious? Are you trying to cop my style?" Maylene held a hand in the air, palm-skyward, looking bemused and politely aggressive.

"I'm the natural red-head, you dye-jobbing twat!" Whitney threw back at her, looking hostile and impatiently aggressive. Her statement was true: Maylene's hair matched Whitney's fire truck veneer.

"Boo hoo, so be it. I only dyed it this color because he's got a thing for red-heads, you know that. Maybe that's why he was into you in the first place?" Maylene shrugged. "But, then again, it must have been a fluke lapse of judgment," she broke into an evil grin, "considering I've had him for the past four years, and you had him for all of, what, one? Less? How many boyfriends have you gone through in that period?"

"Ten, bitch, and every one of them was a better lay than that cardboard cutout you're humping at night!" Whitney fired.

"There's only so much one can do when your partner's got the abs of a wet pancake." Maylene flexed her perfectly toned body for contrast.

Whitney fumed.

"This is exactly what I meant," I told Erika.

"No, I'm sure it's all in good fun," Lyra said, waving my accusation aside. She's much too naïve. If these two had knives instead of Pokeballs, we'd be skipping the police and medics and just be dialing the morgue.

"Contestants, if you please," the judge said in a gentle tone. Obviously, he was a man of infinite patience to bear the opponents' bickering without flinching. His hand went down, signaling for the match to begin.

"It's not like a Pokémon battle has any bearing on your sad love-life, but, I can't let you take any kind of consolation from a fluke victory here. I'm going all out and winning this," Maylene taunted, drawing her pokeball.

"You're a fake in everything you do do. I would say you think only with that imaginary johny-john between your legs, but that wouldn't even make up half a defective brain in your case. You've got no style, no tactics, no brains, and no chance!" Whitney readied her pokeball.

On a certain level, I had to admire the pure theatre these two put into their mutual hostilities. It's a rare talent to come up with that level of vitriol on the spot.

Eyes glaring daggers, the two unleashed their first Pokémon. Whitney's Porygon-Z appeared, followed by Maylene's Machamp. -The latter never saw it coming.

"Machamp is unable to battle!"

Maylene peeked out between her raised arms, raised out of reflex as the backwash of an explosion died down. She carried an expression of shock, to put it mildly. "What the hell was that?!?!" she cried.

I hadn't seen it very clearly either, but I had a good guess as to what had happened. Whitney had made sure to summon her Pokémon out as quickly as possible. The Pokemon, a Porygon-Z, instantly attacks, using the flash created by the unsealing Pokeballs to cover its actions. A single Hyper Beam from the artificial Pokémon and nearly anything would be one-hit KO'd. From Whitney chucking her Pokeball to Machamp hitting the floor took all of 2.75 seconds.

Whitney was beaming, if in a devilish, maniacal sort of way.

"See what I mean? You just assume you can Close-Combat steamroll through my normal-types, so you send out your strongest Pokémon first. Well look what that gets ya now!!!"

Maylene recovered her poise.

"So what. It's not like I don't have five more who can do the same thing. And look, wickle Pory-poo is just about fainted and it's not even been hit, yet," she countered. She sent out her second Pokémon, Medicham, which quickly finished the dazed Porygon-Z with a High Jump Kick. Whitney recalled her Pokémon, not looking concerned in the least.

"Go, Clefable!"

An explosion rang out, not a second after the pokeball unfurled. Medicham hit the side of the arena's force-field, cleanly KO'd.

"How many times do I have to drill it into your head? You don't think! You never think about anything but brute force!"

Does Whitney realize she's pretty much relying on the same thing? Maylene looked angry but not scared in the least.

"Go, Hitmontop! Triple Kick!" Every kick landed, KO'ing the Clefable before it could recover. "Wasting Pokémon on kamikaze attacks seems shameful, if you ask me. You have a different plan?" Maylene asked.

"Nope!"

And for the third time, the flash of the pokeball gave way to the much brighter flash of a Hyper Beam. Hitmontop looked as if it would bear it, continually spinning on the spot it landed… but on closer inspection, it had fainted while still rotating. A beaming Lickilicky sat on its hind, exhausted but triumphant.

"You're fucking with me… THREE HYPER BEAMS IN A ROW?!?!" The look of fear Whitney had been seeking finally crept into Maylene face. At about the same time, I realized Whitney's strategy: her normal types couldn't stand up to Maylene's fighters in straight combat. But if she could knock them down instantly with Hyper Beams, she could trade Pokémon. And considering she got off the first strike… oh muh gosh, she's one up! She could win!

"I don't even need everyone to be super-able to use Hyper Beam, either," Whitney added. "As long as you sent out your toughest Pokémon from the start, I could counter it with my strongest. Then my second strongest Hyper Beam, then my third, and so on down the line."

With mounting horror, Maylene watched her Croagunk fall to the exact same pattern. Whitney now stood tall, almost rife with anticipation. Even Girafarig, drained by the Hyper Beam and fully expecting to fall in the course of Whitney's strategy, appeared excited.

"Lucario!"

"Finally got it out," Whitney muttered. Lucario moved in to finish off Girafarig.

"Wait!" Lucario hesitated. "Sword Dance!" Lucario complied, performing an artful display of martial maneuvers. Its muscles and nerves strained, increasing their tension, buffing Lucario's considerable power.

"What, you're going to give me room to breath? My strategy was already full-proof without you giving me some slack!" Whitney shouted.

"I think you forgot what Lucario did to your team. Don't you dare underestimate us!" Maylene shouted back.

A peel of laughter ripped through the spectators. Even I couldn't help but giggle. I'm sorry, but watching a professional like Maylene come unhinged and belt off hammy, clichéd one-liners like that is too funny! Maylene glared at us, the crowd. Don't be that way, Maylene, you're too funny! And no, you can't take it out on us. If you're mad, take it out on Whitney! If you can…

"Girafarig, Thunder Wave!" An almost invisible shell of electricity burst through the arena. Lucario tried defending- but it was pretty useless, it was hit with paralysis. Its movements became choppy and twitchy.

"Close Combat!" Lucario pulled itself together, executing a leap into the air, closing the gap between itself and Girafarig. Girafarig's horns glowed, preparing a Psychic. Too slow, however. Lucario's fisted paw flew in directly at Girafarig's head. The latter flinched, expecting a deluge of punches. It didn't come. Lucario stood motionless, overcome with paralysis.

"Hyper Beam, fast!" Whitney exclaimed. Her Pokémon heaved its head aloft, charging the shot and firing. The floor before it blew apart, a cloud of dust billowing up and enfolding the pair.

"What happened?" Whitney asked.

Lucario's form stood, still motionless, still standing.

"Is he fainted?"

But, as the dust cleared, the figure evaporated.

"Double Team!" It was an after-image, an illusion. "Girafarig, find him, fast!" Girafarig couldn't, it had fired off its second Hyper Beam and was far too sluggish.

Lucario, paralysis and all, blinked into existence behind Girafarig. The first blow was a downward hammer-blow. The second, an upper-cut, the third and fourth were consecutive horizontal chops, and from there sixteen or seventeen more blows landed consecutively. Close Combat, indeed.

"Girafarig is unable to battle."

"Good work, you did more than enough," Whitney whispered to her Pokémon. She looked up to Maylene and Lucario, and raised her voice to them. "No, I didn't forget about Lucario. Four years and I've never forgotten about that battle!" She tossed her fifth pokeball.

"Extreme Speed!"

Miltank appeared, firing its Hyper Beam the moment it came out. The beam attack was instantly met by Lucario. The Pokémon pierced through the beam, hurtling forward, then running, then inching its way through the energy. The force of the two's attack cancelled each other out, and the yellow flash dispersed. Lucario, hurt though it was, still stood.

"Close Combat!" Miltank didn't stand a chance. Whitney looked pained, as her favorite Pokémon went down in a flurry of blows.

"Two against one," Erika muttered. I glanced at her, sharing in her nervousness.

Whitney, don't you know your Hyper Beam-spamming strategy was inherently nerve-wrecking? It all but guaranteed a close fight till the end! What are you going to do now, after that slip-up?

"What're you so worried about? She's got this!" Lyra exclaimed happily.

Indeed, Whitney was all grins. Her whole figure radiated confidence. She fingered her last pokeball, as if savoring in the moment.

"Whitney, please enter your last Pokémon." She chucked the ball.

"Go, Togekiss!"

Whitney has a Togekiss?! Since when?! I've known her since middle school and she's hidden this Pokémon from me?

"Lucario's part Steel? Ironic, you're so proud of your Fighting types but your favorite one is weak to itself! Togekiss, Aura Sphere!" Togekiss fired off a concentrated burst of chi energy.

"Dodge!" Lucario rolled out of the way.

"Again!"

"Extreme Speed!" Lucario sprinted around the arena's edge- unusually, slow enough to follow with the eye, but still too fast to react to.

"Go airborne!" Togekiss flapped itself near the ceiling.

"Come on! Close Combat!" Maylene shouted. Lucario leapt into the air, but couldn't connect. Normally it was so agile it could fairly walk across the ceiling if it wanted to, but the damage and paralysis were critically slowing it down. Yet, every time Togekiss aimed an Aura Sphere for the kill, Lucario would suddenly disappear, either using Double Team or Extreme Speed.

"Aura Sphere!" This was Maylene's command. Lucario let loose its own chi-energy ball. Togekiss wasn't expecting a ranged attack, and took the attack in its abdomen.

"Hmm." Whitney stood in thought.

"Close Combat!"

Lucario tried, again, but its jump simply wasn't high enough.

"Damn it, get down here!"

"Fine! Togekiss, special Roost number two!"

"Oitah!" Togekiss landed and tucked itself in, attempting to regain health.

"Bullet Punch!" Lucario disappeared, forcibly exerting its nerves into action.

"Gotcha."

Lucario stood, its fisted paw an inch from Togekiss. The Bullet Punch had backfired, straining its nerves too much and causing its muscles to lock up again. Togekiss, in turn, was not even fazed. The Roost was merely a ruse, Togekiss was preparing its own attack. In less than a moment, an Aura Sphere appeared in Lucario's face. There was no dodging this one. The Aura Sphere erupted.

Lucario spun across the floor, flopping end over end, then lay still.

"Lucario is unable to battle. Contestant, please send out your last Pokémon."

Whitney smiled.

"So her real strategy was to corner Maylene into only a few Pokémon. As long as Togekiss doesn't have to win an endurance battle, it has the upper hand over almost any fighting type." Erika made this assessment.

"I knew it," Lyra chipped in.

Maylene picked herself off the ground, from where she had dashed out to check on Lucario.

"Well, played, bitch," she said, quietly. She retreated the fainted Lucario back into its Pokeball. She handled her final pokeball with care, then, grudgingly, let it onto the floor.

"Togekiss, Hyper Beam!" The beam of light energy lanced across the arena, blasting Maylene's Pokémon the moment it was unsealed.

"No sell," Maylene uttered, her face morphing from despair to fiendish triumph. "Golurk, Dynamic Punch!" A Pokémon burst from the dust cloud, hurtling itself towards Togekiss with reckless abandon. Togekiss lay on the ground, attempting to recover the energy lost from its last attack. Even if it were mobile, this Pokémon was far too explosive to dodge. It smashed its fist into Togekiss' wing, pulverizing it.

"What is that Pokémon?" Whitney exclaimed. I could ask the same. It was nothing like anything I had ever seen. It resembled a Grecian colossus crossed with a robot. I'm five-foot four, standing on a stage that gave me an extra four feet above the arena floor, and this Pokémon still stood up to eye-level with me. The gargantuan figure held back, waiting for its next order.

"Togekiss, can you move? Aura Sphere!"

"Hahaha!" Maylene laughed. Togekiss picked itself up into the air, gathered its remaining reservoir of strength, and launched another Aura Sphere. The energy bounced harmlessly off the chest of the opponent.

"What was that?!" Whitney exclaimed.

"It's a Pokémon, obviously," replied Maylene. "Golurk, Stone Edge! Dynamic Punch! Ice Punch!" She belted off a long series of straight-forward attacks. Every time she opened her mouth, the Pokémon barreled forward, disregarding its own defense to land another blow on Togekiss. Togekiss, at the desperate beckoning of Whitney, launched Aura Sphere after Aura Sphere, attempting to find a weak point in the armor-like shell of the foe. Nothing worked, every last attack bounced off, and was soon met by a flaming, or ghostly, or rock-covered fist. It was all Togekiss could do to duck away and Roost its health back.

"Gah! Air Slash!" It struck me she should have tried that from the start- Aura Sphere was not inherently super effective against fighting types. A flying attack would be, however. Togekiss swept its wings forward as it dive-bombed this "Golurk" Pokémon. Vacuum energy clung to the leading edge of its wings, and as it swept through the foe, the massive colossus lurched backwards, finally registering some damage.

"Dynamic Punch!" The Air Slash wasn't enough, not nearly enough. The giant merely turned around and smashed Togekiss before it could swoop away. Its other wing took the beating, permanently grounding the Pokémon.

"Grounded. Finally, finish it off with Earthquake!"

The opposing Pokemon pounded the ground with both fists, sending seismic waves across the arena floor, shaking the room and pulverizing Togekiss's entire body.

"Togekiss is unable to battle! Whitney has run out of eligible Pokémon, Maylene is declared the winner. Thank you for your participation. Challengers, please meet in the middle to shake hands."

Whitney disregarded the request completely, instead opting to rush to Togekiss' side. Tears were streaming down her face.

"What kind of Pokémon was that?!" she cried. Maylene approached her.

"That's a Golurk. You should broaden your horizons a little more, then maybe you'd know about Pokémon from beyond this rink-a-dink region of yours."

"How?!" How?! Why did nothing work?! Why?!"

"Because it's a Ghost-Ground type, silly girl."

"But…"

I thought Maylene was a fighting type specialist? Whitney thought so as well.

"That's not a Fighting type!"

"Since when are gym leaders restricted to one type of Pokémon? We're perfectly entitled to bringing in other types to cover weaknesses. Hell, you halfway understood that yourself, bringing in that Togekiss. What's there to complain about?"

"It's not fair!" Whitney cried, and cried tears too.

"Shut up! You're becoming unsightly. Go cry in a restroom."

"That's too harsh," I said. A victory and a defeat were one thing, but these pair made it personal and now the one side was carrying it over into crass insults. It made my blood boil, and worse, because as much as she might deserve this, Whitney was my friend and I hated seeing her being bullied like this.

"See, I'm just better. Now go suck up to your girlfriends, I've got a date with that boy with the Darkrai. I heard it was up for grabs? That'll be a sweet gift for Brawly-boo. Not that you'd know, whoring selfish pit that you are. Seriously, stop crying out here, it's disgusting. Go blubber in your friends' arms or something."

"That's it, I'm killing her," I said, popping off the stage.

"Jasmine, stop!" I shook off Erika and made it halfway to the arena. My head was throbbing and my hands were shaking, and I was fairly sure I was about to use violence as a first resort against this girl.

"Lyra, help me!" My advance was halted by four hands grabbing me about the arms and shoulders. I struggled, unable to march any farther. Gaining just a bit of leeway, I whipped around to face my friends.

"Do you want to stand there while that woman gangs up on Whitney?! While she insults her and insults her and then goes out of her way to insult her friends too, us?! You want to abandon Whitney just like you abandoned me?!"

Erika flinched. Lyra spoke up.

"Of course not! But…"

Erika gathered herself:

"You'll get into much more trouble if you don't calm down! Please, think of yourself!"

"I can't calm down!"

"Lyra?"

Lyra paused, thinking. Her attention was caught by something on the video display, which caused her to yank me by the arm. She was surprisingly strong. I was dragged several yards before realizing what was going on.

"Morty's match is still going on, we'll go watch that while you blow off steam, kay?"

"I'm not leaving Whitney to that vixen!" I said.

"Leave Whitney and Maylene to me. Please?" Erika begged.

I pretended not to listen, but deep down, I didn't want to cause trouble, not really; and I couldn't stand being judged for that either. I had already overplayed my social standing with the outbursts at the gala. So, even though I couldn't apologize or accept her overtures, outwardly, and I still desperately wanted to avenge Whitney, I slacked, and let myself be dragged away by Lyra.

"She'll rescue our Whitney, trust her," Lyra said.

"Meh."

"That can't be good." The crowd in Hall 1 was downright tame compared to the human hurricane that was Hall 2. I couldn't tell if the roars were cheers or jeers, it all melded together into a perfect cacophony of ear-splittingness. I tried grabbing a random spectator.

"What's going on?" I asked.

"Hey, get off." He shrugged me off and returned to roaring in the general direction of the arena. Men- ugh!

I tapped a woman, who was also riveted to the scene. "Excuse me, what happened? What's going on?"

She answered without taking her eyes away.

"Sabrina's Alakazam just took down Darkrai."

"You're kidding!"

"No way. It's true."

How is that possible? That Alakazam must be something entirely uncompetitive!

I struggled to get a view of the arena, but there were too many people, and they were practically jumping over themselves to get a decent view. Flashes of energy erupted like a firework show's finale, indicating something was going on beyond the wall of bodies.

"Jasmine," someone caught my shoulder. It was Lyra. She pointed to the video display mounted on the wall. It wasn't particularly large or high-definition, but at least I could see what was happening.

And what was happening was an Alakazam, hovering in the air, in deep concentration. Tendrils of psychic energy lashed outward from it in every direction, striking the perimeter, the ceiling, the dirt floor, everything but its opponent.

"Keep it up!" I heard Sabrina shout through the video.

"Keep sniping! One at a time!" came the voice of Morty.

"Gar!" Gengar popped out of the ceiling, unleashing a Shadow Ball attack. It zigzagged across the distance, before meeting the psychic barrier surrounding Alakazam. The shadowy miasma burst apart, washing over the barrier. Alakazam was unhurt, but I could guess how much concentration and stamina was being used up maintaining that kind of defense- hint: lots. Alakazam retaliated with a Psychic, cracking the ceiling tiles apart where Gengar had been a moment before. However, the ghost Pokémon itself had phased back into the structure.

"Alakazam, concentrate!"   

"Gengar, wait for the opening!" The battle settled down, turning into a tense waiting duel. While Gengar hid in the walls, the video feed showed replays from earlier in the fight. An oft-repeated scene was Alakazam, taking numerous special attacks from the almighty Darkrai. However, in a split-second opening, it launched a Focus Blast, that not only nailed the Darkrai for super-effective damage, but also blasted the legendary dead in the face for critical effect. So that's how it managed such an incredible feat: Alakazam wasn't just strong, it was also extremely lucky.

Even so, that meant it was already weak by the time Gengar showed up. Which means a single Shadow Ball might drop it…

The clock ticked off minutes, second by second by second by second by second...

Sabrina sensed it first.

"Psywave!" The tendrils surrounding Alakazam coalesced into a solid bubble, which then radiated across the entire arena. A loud "snap!" sound indicated a hit, but where? Sabrina and Alakazam both searched frantically for their target.

"It's below," I uttered, remembering my own experience.

"Garrararara!" Alakazam's shadow shivered, then morphed into the three dimensional form of the ghost. Gengar leapt up, grabbed Alakazam about the waste, and dragged it inside its own shadow. A flat blob of darkness was all that was left of the Pokémon. It was one of the most surreal things I've ever seen.

In the sub-window showing Sabrina, she could be seen mouthing off multiple silent utterances, in what I could only assume were family-unfriendly phrases. She closed her eyes, concentrating. She must have been attempting to communicate with her Pokémon telepathically. It didn't appear to be working. Time passed, the female human growing anxious, the other human wiping his brow, also anxious.

"Phah!" Like corks off champagne bottles, the pair of Pokémon popped out of the shadow.

"Nice Shadow Sneak, Gengar," Morty complimented his Pokémon.

"Not like any Shadow Sneak I'd ever seen," said a nearby spectator. For myself, I've seen Gengar- well, it was a Haunter back then- pull it off plenty of times. It'll attach itself to its victims' shadow, then attack them from it. Morty would use it to play pranks on the girls in 7^th grade. However, this was the first time I've seen Shadow Sneak being used to pull the foe into its own shadow. That's… kind of cool, I have to admit. To think of a strategy like that, and teach your Pokémon to pull it off too; it's just too cool not to admire- Damn it, I hate giving Morty any credit!

"Alakazam is unable to battle. Please send out your next Pokémon." The board indicated this would be Sabrina's last. The same was already true of Morty's Gengar.

"This is too ironic. I take down a freaking Darkrai but lose Alakazam in the process, and now the final is a mirror-match?" Sabrina said. She face-palmed for a moment, before tossing her final pokeball.

It was a Gengar.

"Gengah!"

A non-psychic type on a psychic team? Just like Maylene! How many gym leaders were forsaking their type specializations these days?

"Shadow Ball!"

"Icy Wind!"

"Shadow Sneak!"

"Thunderbolt!"

"Shadow Ball!"

"Shadow Sneak!"

The battle became frenetic, as the trainer pairs belted off command after command. Even so, the Gengars were flying around the arena, phasing in and out of the ceilings, floors, columns, even spectators. They were acting and reacting much too fast, constantly using attacks of their own volition without waiting for orders.

"The floor!" Sabrina shouted. Apparently her Gengar knew what she meant, and sprayed the ground with a Sludge bomb.

"Get out of the floor!" Morty shouted.

Was it to avoid the poison seeping into the ground? No-

"Garr!" A Thunderbolt arced through the air. The sludge drew in the electricity, conducting it directly into the ground. Morty's Gengar attempted to rise into the air, passing through the electrified sludge and taking damage as a result.

"Garrah garrah!" It made a weird face, an unsettling projection that hit the opposing Gengar with an unseen force.

"Thunderbolt! Aim high!" Sabrina was trying to force Morty's Gengar back down into the sludge. Her own Pokémon lit up, but just as quickly, fizzled.

"When did you get off a Spite?" she wondered aloud.

"Just now. Icy Wind!" Morty said.

"Confuse Ray!"

It was like Lance two days ago. The Pokémon were acting on their own. Whether through their own creativity, or from training and preparation done in advance, they were acting beyond the simple commands they received from their trainers. They were adapting to the moment-to-moment situation of the battle, using attacks in novel ways, combining them, reacting instinctively and attempting to counter with terrain and abilities.

Thinking back to the battle with Lance, and the time my Steelix countered his Dragonite's Earthquake twice, once with Magnitude, and once by pulverizing the ground- But those were strategies I got from experience, and I had to relay them to Steelix. If I were as good as these two, Steelix would already know how to counter Earthquake on his own, and would have done so without my command. That would have shaved off critical seconds to his reaction time.

"Shadow Ball ice!" one yelled out. A dark explosion tore through a sheet of ice clinging to the ceiling. Shards of ice rained across the arena, forcing the opposing Gengar to back off and creating breathing room for the former. The latter tried to regain the momentum with its own Shadow Ball, and the first fired off a second. The Shadow Balls crossed each other's path without colliding, and both Pokémon strafed out of the way. They circle-strafed each other, firing four more pairs of Shadow Balls, all missing. They finally settled down on their respective sides of the arena. And not one word had come from the trainers since that first command.

This was what it meant to be a great Pokémon trainer, I realized. This is what separated K-Block and A-Block members. This is the kind of level of competition I needed to aspire to if I was going to keep my Gym Leader position. But it seemed so impossible to keep up…

"Icy Wind!"

"Shadow Ball!"

The gust of hail-imbued air washed over Sabrina's Gengar, draping it with ice. Its own Shadow Ball had already been launched, clipping Morty's Gengar in the back as it tried to dodge. It fell to the ground, vulnerable for an instant. Sabrina's Gengar was unable to capitalize in time; both Gengars recovered and floated into the air, awaiting their next command- but not just waiting, I realized, they were already mentally preparing themselves, thinking how to best carry out whatever command their trainer issued.

"Shadow Ball!" "Shadow Ball!" Both trainers ordered their Pokémon to attack at the same time. As before, the Gengars attempted to strafe aside. Yet, the cumulative slowing of the Icy Wind took its toll on Sabrina's Pokémon. Morty's Gengar dodged clean. Sabrina's took the blast full force in its chest. It staggered to the ground.

Morty's Gengar wasted no time. A hand signal from Morty told it exactly what to do- A traditional Shadow Sneak, his shadow lashing out at the foe, inflicting damage. Simultaneously, it connected their shadows, giving the Gengar a fast lane to his foe's position. Sabrina's ghost tried one last Shadow Ball, but Morty's Gengar was already zooming along the Shadow Sneak, gaining the foe's backside. From there it was a mere full-power, point-blank Shadow Ball from dropping Sabrina's Gengar to the ground for good.

"Gengar is unable to battle, Sabrina is out of eligible Pokémon, Morty is the victor!"

The quarter-finals were over.

The crowd erupted. Morty himself hunched over, more relieved than exuberant. It wasn't a momentary gesture either; his Gengar, beat up though it was, looked to be in better condition than him. The Pokémon floated over to check on his trainer. He lightly tapped his shoulder. Morty's head lifted, saw his Pokémon, smiled, and hugged it.

You would think he'd be a bit more lively, considering that he had just earned a night with Sabrina's body. Great, I'm gritting my teeth at the thought of it now. I hope he really is too stressed out to carry on with the bet. Not to mention, by virtue of winning he has another match to go through. He can still lose, right? I swear someone has to stand up and give me the satisfaction of seeing that pervert put in his place!

And as for his "prize"? How was she holding up?

Predictably, nonplussed. She stormed over to confront Morty.

I was tired of craning my neck to watch the video displays, and the crowd was dissipating enough for me to edge inward. I wanted to listen to their conversation, so I forced my way through the jungle of humans, and the occasional Pokémon. I found the pair in bitter argument.

"You are such a poor sport. You wanted to win so badly you just had to bring in the Darkrai. Well- Congratulations!"

"Hey, you beat it after all; it's not like it's invincible."

"After you were down by three Pokémon! I had that match won without your filthy legendary."

"Well, gee, guess what, that's the kind of power you were playing for."

"It's still disingenuous."

"What is?"

"Bringing it into the match."

"There was nothing in the bet that said I couldn't; I wouldn't have made that bet otherwise."

"I think you're lying. You weren't going to use it, until it looked like you'd lose. It looks desperate of you. You want this that badly?" Sabrina put her hands to her hips.

"Er, well… oh, hey, Jazz!"

"Don't call me that," I said. Morty brushed past Sabrina to make his way over to me.

"I'm not done with you," the psychic gym leader yelled. Morty gave her one of his trademarked hand-waves.

"Just give me a minute." He turned back to me. "Hey, how're you holding up?"

"Better, your antics notwithstanding," I replied testily.

"Sorry you think that."

"Don't just ignore me!" Sabrina marched in between me and Morty.

"Hey! I just need to a minute I said!"

"Morty jilting a lady? That's a first."

"Hey, Morty! Are you making fun of Jasmine again?" Lyra arrived.

"No, actually, she's putting the smarmy quips over me this time."

"Morty!" Sabrina grabbed Morty's collar.

"Woah! Hey! No violence!"

"We've got a score to settle."

"Tonight, please, just give me a moment."

"No, listen to what I have to say. I'm a woman of honor, I'll settle this debt. BUT, mark my words, I won't forget this half-baked trick you pulled and I WILL get you back some day."

"Fine, but please!" He managed to separate himself from Sabrina's invasive personal contact. He again turned to address me, or rather, me and Lyra both.

"You two watched Whitney's match, right? She won, right?"

"No, she lost," I sneered. Knowing Whitney, she was probably over her crying fit by now, but that would just mean she was in full-on revenge-mode and demanding an immediate rematch. Something I doubted Maylene wanted.

"She lost?! Really? You're kidding."

"I'm not the compulsive liar here, Morty. She lost and she's upset and I would very much recommend giving her room if I were you."

"Yeah, but… damn." His hand ran through his sweaty, luxurious blonde hair. His gaze quickly ran the gamut from floor to ceiling to lala-land and back. He was flustered, as if his grand plan had gone slightly awry. Yes! But wait! What was his plan and how'd it screw up? I want to know!

"What, Sabrina isn't good enough for you, you wanted Whitney too?" I quipped.

"Well, not exactly Whitney too," he said glumly, holding his head. "You heard about that already?"

"I was there when it happened."

"Oh, right. Didn't notice you."

"Seriously, you look out of it. You've got another match in fifteen minutes. I think you're better off resting yourself and your Pokemon. Meanwhile, I think I'll go tell Maylene about your team line-up, give her a little extra nudge. I couldn't stand to see you receiving a threesome tonight."

"Hehe. That's quite a naughty mouth you got there. Got over your shyness in that department already?"

"Not really, I'm just very, very mad about something right now, and you're a convenient target." I also secretly wanted to put him down, in any way possible. I had committed the sin of actually admiring him during the battle, and I needed an excuse to shunt him back into the 'un-cool closet' part of my mind. While time and his natural dickedness would undoubtedly do the latter anyways, what I wanted was instant gratification, but popping his ego proved frustratingly impossible at the moment.

"Well, you do have a point, I ought to go rest them up. And please don't go helping Maylene," he begged, with a hint of sarcasm. I glared at him. "No, really, please don't," he repeated, sounding more sincere. "I'm kind of at my ropes end, and getting advice from someone like you is like handing the opponent a cheat sheet."

"Don't patronize me," I warned.

"I'm serious, you're way too smart. I'm wondering why you didn't enter the tourney yourself. That would have scared the crap out of me."

Shut up Morty! Obviously you hadn't heard about my humiliating loss to Lance. And I still think you're lying; after that display your Gengar put on, how can you possibly think I'm in the same league as you, let alone your better?! Get off my case!

"Ah well… My time's up," he stated, looking over to an impatiently waiting Sabrina. "Fine, fine. Sabby-darling," he called to her. "Here, walk with me to the clinic. We can talk about tonight on the way."

"I look forward to it," Sabrina said, in a strangely forceful, gleeful tone. On the one hand, I want to believe she's plotting some way to finagle the Darkrai out of Morty's possession. But… the way she acts and talks, that jeering, lustful posture- I'm getting the sense she's looking forward to it…

No way! She didn't care about who won the bet! She would have gone with him anyways! It's a straight hookup!

"What a wretch! Morty, you…!!!" I exclaimed, as the pair walked off. Lyra eyed me with a puzzled, concerned expression.

Chapter Text

"Feeling better?"

"No."

"Can you at least avoid a felony?"

"Depends."

"Need more time?"

I didn't bother looking Lyra eye to eye. I was watching the replays on the video screen. It was just like Sabrina claimed: her psychics had thoroughly outmaneuvered Morty's ghosts, putting her up five to two. Then Morty sent in Darkrai, which proceeded to devastate everything with Dark Voids, Nightmares, and Dark Pulses. It was an inelegant slaughter, unopposed until Alakazam threaded a last-ditch, miraculously aimed Focus Blast through several airborne Dark Pulses and straight into a rapidly strafing Darkrai. It was a thing of beauty.

At times like this, I question my choice of Steel specialization. They're not a weak type, by no means, no. But their strength is their endurance, toughness, and nose-to-the-grinder resiliency. Ghost and Psychic types, and the elemental types too, all had a beauty to themselves: it's the flashiness of their attacks, and also the grace of seemingly choreographed high-speed battles, where the tension hinges on the instant-to-instant actions of the contestants. Like a high-speed ballet, or a quality Wuxia martial arts film.

Maybe that's why Morty trained his Pokémon to act on their own. When the action happens in the blink of an eye, a Pokémon can't afford to wait on the orders of its trainer. If we were to use a crude sports comparison, they were playing hockey and I was trotting along playing football… Considering how much they make fun of football here- Meh, I don't like that comparison. Maybe I'm actually playing chess to their checkers? That sounds like a better analogy for me- but it doesn't take away this inferiority complex I've suddenly developed.

What did Lyra think? She's doesn't care either way. She's still smiling, as if she was disconnected from the whole proceedings. She never takes her battles seriously. She's the avatar of good fortune, the way she can slack off and still be the Johto Champion. It's all thanks to her Typhlosion. I wish Steelix was that strong. I wonder which was stronger, Morty's Darkrai or her Typhlosion? If I had to bet, I'd put money on the latter. Sorry, but Darkrai doesn't seem so legendary after getting KO'd by an Alakazam, fluke or no.

Why do some people get all the luck? Lyra and her bloody Typhlosion! Erika has the admiration and respect of the entire Kanto crew. Whitney was popular with girls and guys, making all sorts of friends and netting any boy she pleased. And Morty? He has the looks, the respect, the social circle, that suave charisma, and Pokémon prowess! And on top of all that, he acts like a jerk and gets away with it!

Ugh!

"I'm getting a milkshake." I needed something to calm me down. I never intended to sign up for the tournament because I wanted to enjoy today, not spend it fussing and fuming.

"You'll miss the semi-finals," Lyra said.

"I can do without."

"Kay."

I plucked myself up off the ground and made towards the exit. There's a cafeteria downstairs, and although their food is even worse than Café le Rei, the desserts are as good as any fast food. Fattening, to be sure, but Erika makes fun of my lack of curves anyways; I could stand a pound or two. Slippery slope logic, of course, but… ugh, I want a damn shake!

"Wait up!" Lyra caught me at the stairs.

"I thought you were going to watch the semis?"

"Yeah, well, I think Erika wanted me to keep an eye on you. You do tend to disappear."

"True."

I still have to talk to Erika. But I don't want to…

Courage!

And milkshakes! Yes, plural- multiple milkshakes! Small ones.

And I can procrastinate on it, right? At least until the evening, after the tournament. Hey, maybe if what's-his-face, king beardly, beats Morty, I'll be all happy!

"You want a milkshake too? I have some spare cash," I offered.

"Um, ok."

As we walked through hallways, Lyra piqued up, eyeing me.

"Hmm?"

"Tell me, is this usual?" Lyra asked.

"What?"

"Everyone fighting."

"Why do you ask?"

"Well, it's a little depressing, I think. I mean, friends are supposed to help you relax, right? But it seems you three have gone through a lot of trouble lately."

"It's just the summit, it's probably the most stressful time of year for our jobs," I lied- somewhat. The part about the summit being the worst part of the year was dead-on. But, I've noticed, Erika and Whitney and I had been bickering more often in the past year. Most of it was external, and I had thought we'd get over it once the stresses died down.

"Oh. Well, I hope I'm not being too blunt, but I think you all should learn to laugh. Take a joke, relax."

"I'll be fine," I replied, noting how her advice was addressed to all of us, but seemed directed at me.

"Sorry! Just my two cents. You guys are so fun and interesting, I'd hate to alienate you."

"Don't worry about it."

We arrived at the nigh-vacant cafeteria. If we hurried, we'd be able to catch the tail-end of the semis.

"What kind?" I asked.

"Choco-fudge! With oreos! And raspberries." Lyra exclaimed this before even glancing at the selection.

"I think you're thinking of an ice cream shake, and I don't think they serve those."

"Hey look, yes they do!" She skipped over to the far corner of the dessert section. So they do. Eh.

"What are you getting?"

"Vanilla."

"Teehehehe!"

"What?"

"That's too stereotypical, Jasmine."

"Seriously? Come on, it's just my favorite flavor."

"It's too much! I mean, what's next? A four-door sedan? Au natural make-up? Two kids, a Herdier, and a three bedroom house in the 'burbs?"

"So?"

"Vanilla milkshake, vanilla coke, vanilla cake, vanilla nightlife, vanilla bedlife-"

"Stop it!"

"What would you have for drinks if you threw a party? Sprite?"

"Red merlot."

"WINE!?!?! PFFFTTTTT!" Lyra could not contain herself. What the hell was wrong with wine? Alcohol is alcohol!

 "Don't laugh at me!"

"HAHAHAHAHAHA!"

"Stop!"

"I mean, really? Wine?!"

"I'm not going to pay for that if you're going to make fun of me."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she said, still clutching her laugh-wracked gut. "I'll stop… Hehehehe. Sorry. Hehe. Now! I'm done."

I locked eyes with her. She put on as straight a face as she could muster…

"PFFHAHAHAHAHA!" She burst into a new round of laughter. I ignored her and turned to the clerk.

"Two small vanilla milkshakes, and one choco-fudge raspberry creamshake."

"Ah, I see. 1950P please."

Freaking expensive!

I silently cursed corporatism as we made our way back to the third floor. Because of the condiments, we took the elevator.

"Third floor," I told Lyra, who had one free hand to my zero. She pressed the button; then, due to the sluggish pace of the elevator, lit the buttons for every floor from 4 to 16. Lyra, you prankster, that's going to creep people out.

"Bored?"

"Yep!"

As soon as the doors opened for our floor-

"It took THREE MONTHS to come up with that strategy!"

Yay! More drama.

I cautiously approached Erika and a bawling Whitney.

"Is she still crying?" I asked.

"No, not still. She became upset and tried confronting Maylene, but was rebuked, and now she's back to crying," Erika corrected.

"It was perfect! PERFECT! No way it lost, it's impossible! Imposi-no-way-not-didn't-happen-why-why-why-why-why-why-" Whitney's lament devolved into unintelligible wailing. Erika went to hug and comfort her.

"She's taking this pretty badly," Lyra said.

"Yes, worse than I expected," I said.

I joined Erika in bracketing our crying friend.   

"Milkshake?" I offered her my untouched milkshake. She took it out of reflex, the noisy slurps intermingling with sniffling and sobs.

"There there, there there," Erika said softly.

We spent five minutes gently milking the tears out, giving reassurance and comfort. The milkshake, more than anything, helped towards that end. She greedily slurped the entire thing down in less time than it took for me to finish a third of mine.

"It wasn't so bad. You put up such an awesome fight, you could have won. You'll win next time. For sure."

"No! Should've won now."

"You should have, you should have. Next time, for sure."

"He's gonna think I'm trash now. Trash! He's still with her? Four years now? Four years?!"

"Who's this?"

"Brawly!" she wailed.

"From Hoenn?"

"Brawly-boo! That was my nickname! She's taken everything from me!"

"There there," Erika and I both hugged her. She looked about to break down again, so I offered my original half-finished milkshake. It was whipped out of my hands and drained in two minutes flat.

"You can tell us. Let it out."

"He was my Brawly-boo! My Brawly-boo. Mine! I loved him, loved him so much! That-that rotten  little minx showed off some fancy pansy kung fu at a show, and he got hit like a stupid oaf by a Luvdisc arrow, and… and… buh-buh-battled for him, in the next Trainer Invitational, she swore she'd beat me at my own game and she ruined me, made me look like t-t-t-trash! Waaaaaa!!"

It's not worthwhile to recall everything she said over the next ten minutes verbatim, because it was fragmented and very frequently interrupted by fits of tears and whimpering. The sum of it was, as I understand it, that Maylene stole Brawly from her by means of showing off, first in a martial arts contest, then a Pokémon tournament, and finally in a double-date - that is, Brawly invited both of them on a date at the same time, and Maylene's flirtations won out.

"What about all the other boyfriends you've had since then?" Lyra asked innocently.

"They nothin but cwackheads! Fratty-patpinks! Fwashy monkeys with nothin worth dating! Why you think I keep findin new guys? I don wan anyone else, I want Brawly-boo!"

I tried my best to ease her, as did Erika. Inwardly, though, I was sighing and shaking my head.

THIS! This is why men, even the best of men, are a bad idea. You attach yourself to them and they let you down- it doesn't even have to be their fault, primarily, it can be work, or disasters, or family; but all too often it is their own flaws, their boorishness, arrogance, lust, gutlessness, or any other little sin that will break your heart. Whitney, Whitney, just realize that Brawly is bad a person for leaving you and isn't worth the commotion. He's the real villain, and Maylene, while also an evil woman, is not your primary antagonist.

"I hate her! I hate her!" Whitney sounded as if she might be swinging back to the anger phase. Wasn't there supposed to be seven phases of grief, and progressive, rather than cyclical?

"I hope she dies!"

"Oh! Well, would you feel any better if she was humiliated as badly as you?"

"Of course. I want her to rot in hell! Bake her guts in bad wine and all that!"

"Mmm." Lyra nodded and began fiddling with her cell phone.

"Don't say that. Don't be hateful, hatred is bad- cry it all out. We'll get you through this." Erika soothed her with her most motherly voice.

"Like this?" Lyra handed over her cellphone, a digital image set on its display.

"Yeah, just like that! That face is perfect!" Whitney said this with a mixture of vindictive glee and underlying snuffling. The picture showed Maylene, looking absolutely horrified, or utterly defeated.

"Thanks. If only it were real…"

"Yeah, if the Golurk had only been touchable, I'm sure that's the face she would be showing right now. Is it photoshopped?" I addressed that last sentence to Lyra in a whisper.

"Huh? No, I just downloaded it from the intracon. I mean, look, she just lost."

"What?"

"Aye, 0-6."

Sure enough, on the nearest video display, the semi-finals' scores scrolled by, showing a defeated Maylene and---

"God damn it!" I cried.

--- a victorious Morty.

I was playing Mother Swanna for Whitney while Erika and Lyra went off to gather tissues and information. A loud 'ding!' heralded an announcement over the intercom.

"Due to greater-than-anticipated interest, the final match has been relocated to the Main Outdoor Stadium. This match will begin in 50 minutes, at approximately 4:00 o'clock. Spectator seating is available, and as usual the match will be available for viewing on intracircuit television and the Battle Tower Live Website, under "Current Matches". We hope you have enjoyed your stay at the Johto Battle Tower Facility and wish you the best of luck in your future endeavors."

"Do you want to watch the match?" I asked the question to a pile of red hair, because her face was still buried in her arms.

"Who's in it?" came the mumbled reply.

"Morty and …" I had to check the boards, "…Volkner."

"Not Maylene?"

"Morty beat her, remember?"

"Oh. Yeah. So he still hasn't lost?"

"No."

"And his bet?"

"He'll probably be enjoying Sabrina's company tonight, possibly Maylene tomorrow, or tonight as well if they're feeling amoral enough."

"Hehe."

"What's funny?" I asked, even though her laugh wasn't at all joyous.

"She's gonna cheat on Brawly-boo. I'd never take that bet up if there was a chance I'd cheat on him. She doesn't deserve him."

We had spent an hour calming her down and cheering her up. I couldn't bring myself to scold her for putting an obviously defective character like Brawly on a pedestal. Firstly, that would have put all of our carebear efforts to waste; secondly, I genuinely felt sorry for her and didn't want to hurt her feelings.

It was strange to me, though. I had known her for nine years, almost, and never knew her to keep a crush for so long. She "dated" Morty for a week in 7^th grade, and just as quickly got bored and dumped him. Boyfriends came and went like holidays. Crushes were short and soon forgotten. As example, there was this Jon fellow, who she crushed on for a month. She would drool at his picture and obsess over the details of his social life every waking minute. But when it became apparent he wasn't interested, she got over it in two hours flat. It was that fast that she went from Wynaut-level waterworks to smacking a volleyball, laughing, and horse-playing.

Four years ago, I only had a vague sense she had been dating someone from Hoenn, didn't even know who it was. We hadn't been able to keep in touch as well as I'd liked, due to our gym leader jobs. So, it came across as just another one of her flings, and nothing serious was going to come out of it. I also knew the relationship ended around the time of the invitational three years ago, but never figured out that the Maylene confrontation and the breakup were connected.

This, however, was a shock. Four years, and she not once hinted at this latent crush of hers? Four years and she seemed perfectly fine, perfectly content to continue to run through love interests like other girls went through dirty laundry. Could she possibly have been dealing with this every day since, letting it eat and gnaw at her? It didn't seem possible. Her demeanor had been too genuinely upbeat, optimistic, happy-go-lucky, ball-of-energy- in short, her usual self. She's either a Pokewood-class actress, or else today's defeat triggered something deep inside her. But if it was the former, I was worried, deathly worried. It wasn't healthy keeping that kind of emotional strain to oneself. Let us in, let us help you!

…

Ugh… Great, I realize I'm such a hypocrite. I shut Erika off in the exact same way. I just didn't want to be judged! What's your excuse, Whitney? I won't judge you, I promise!

"Are you going?" she asked.

"No. Wait, go where?" I asked back.

"To the finals."

"Oh, no. Well, actually, only if you do. I'm going to stay by you."

"Thanks. But, if you want to see it…"

"Ha! Oh, I don't know if I could stand to see Morty win. The guy he's going against is kind of a wimp, honestly. If his Pokémon are the same way, then he doesn't stand a chance. Morty is too good."

"Yeah… Ah."

"What's that?"

"Who do you you think would win, Brawly or Morty?"

"I've never seen Brawly battle. Why do you ask that?"

"Wishful thinking."

"Tell me." Whitney turned her face away from me. Embarrassed?

"Tell me!"

"No, it's too farfetched."

"Please!"

"No!"

"Please!? I won’t be your friend if you don't tell me!" I punctuated this threat with pokes to her ribcage. This got her to chuckle, while she tried fending my assault off.

"I'll never ever ever speak to you ever again if you don't tell me now!"

"Oh don't you start!"

"Never! I'll be your sworn rival, forever!" This was Whitney's own technique for getting her way, way back in 7^th grade. The irony of me using it was causing her to giggle.

"No! No! No! I said no! No! NO!!!!!! Fine!" She gave in to the incessant barrage of pokes! "Fine, fine, I give!"

"What were you thinking?"

"I was wishing I could fall in love with Morty instead of Brawly," she turned to me, eyes still moist, but lips formed into a sheepish grin.

"Huh?"

"I know what you're going to say - 'but he's a dirty pervert who deserves nothing but a shoe up his butt' - but he's really not such a bad guy."

"No- well, yes, that is what I think of him. But I'm confused- I didn't think that would stop you from going after him. Why not?"

"Well, I don't know. I fell for Brawly, but Morty is so perfect, and he's single, and he and I get along… but my heart doesn't do what the brains tells it to. Feelings, how do they work?" She knocked her forehead and shrugged. "But…"

"But what?"

"There was one thing."

"What was it?"

"You," she said.

"Like I said, I never expected you to limit your romantic activities based on my opinions. I wouldn't even feel right by making you do that. The world would probably depopulate to extinction if I had my way," I told her.

"Jasmine, you really don't get it?"

"Get what?" I asked.

"The way Morty picks on you."

"Because he's a scoundrel."

"You truly don't get it." Whitney shifted nervously.

I stared at her, blankly. Just get out with it already!

"You're the only one he treated that way."

"Huh?"

"He likes you."

…

The first stage: Denial.

"No! No!! DO NOT SAY THAT!!!"

The second stage: Anger.

"He has the goddamn gall to treat me like that and expect me to believe he has feelings for me?! Does that fucking asshole have the goddamn brains to realize I will NEVER love him?!?!"

The third stage: Bargaining.

"I've gone through how many overtures from men I couldn't accept? Men who were still light-years better men than he is! He would need several times his natural lifespan just to make up for the crap he's put me through! And then, and then only, would I allow him the pleasure of working for the permission to like me! Maybe then, after a millennia of sucking up and playing penance, I might consider accepting so much as a love letter from that morally-defunct pigshit!"

The fourth stage: Depression.

"No! I won't accept this. I can't. It's inhuman. It's moronic. The world is warped. I hate this. I hate this! Why? Why'd you have to go and say that? Ugh! That's… Wrong. I swear if I start crying again heads will roll. No. Just no."

The fifth stage: Acceptance.

"I don't get it. Why do you think he likes me? Why does he act that way if he does like me? Why? Why?!?!?!"

Whitney's eyes were wide open and staring at me with a "shock and awe" kind of reaction. Her mouth was hanging open a little, too.

"Ten years I've known you, and I've never seen you go off like that."

"Nine years, and so? Don't tell me such a preposterous thing like "Morty likes you" and expect me to take it easily."

"You said "fuck". That's the first time I've ever heard you cuss. Is it that big of a shock?"

"YES!"

"Well I didn't mean for it to."

"Hey, if someone said to you 'Brawly likes you', how would you react?"

Her eyes brightened for a passing moment. "I'd be ecstatic!"

"No! After what he…" and I paused, remembering that, although I think she should have the same disdain for Brawly as I have for Morty, she doesn't, and still loves him. My analogy flopped apart.

"How can you be so sure?"

"Sit down, let me explain!" I had begun stomping back and forth in front of her. She grabbed me by the wrist and pulled me down beside her.

"I didn't mean to be so blunt. I've barely talked with him here, and I haven't seen him much in the past few years. So, now might be different. But, seriously Jasmine, back in middle school? He was fawning over you, big time!"

"Are you serious?"

"Like a newborn baby poké."

"No. He was teasing me, calling me names, belittling me day in and day out!"

"That's what young boys do when they like a girl."

"Why?"

"Because they're stupid!"

"Of course!"

 "It's still the truth. It was so obvious to everyone else, and we were all wondering when one of you would make a move. But neither of you ever did."

"Why would I make a move? He was just a bully in my eyes."

"You can be dense, true."

"Don't make fun of me."

"That's practically your catchphrase," Whitney said.

"Don't make fun of me?"

"Yep."

"Only because everyone does."

"You're too easy to pick on, that's why."

"Whatever. Why did Morty never confess?"

"That's the thing. We were all confused by that. You know I spent a year with him in high school before moving to Goldenrod." I nodded, vaguely remembering that. My family moved back the summer after I finished middle school. Whitney had stayed in Ecruteak for one more grade. She continued, "Well, he kept giving mixed signals to other girls. He would flirt with them and ask them out, but then he would back off. He acted like he still had a crush on you. But then he would turn right around and chase after whatever girl. You know what it felt like?"

"What?"

"Like he couldn't decide if he liked you romantically, or liked you as a friend. He did say these weird things sometimes, like how he wished he could be your older brother."

"That's creepy."

"Not the way he said it."

"How can something like that not sound creepy?"

"He had chivalrous intentions."

"Yeah right."

I tucked my knees in, adopting Whitney's fetal position.

"So you think that stupid boast at the gala was his way of coming on to me?"

"Maybe."

"What would you do, in my position?" I asked.

"Me? I'd go for it. If Brawly were acting like this to me- I'd die for that reality."

"What you were saying earlier, why you didn't want to go for Morty…"

"Because he might have feelings for you. I didn't want to screw with that."

I bit my lip. Even if it were Morty and I didn't give a damn if she pursued him, she did swear off him for my sake, not his.

"Thank you," I said.

"Mmm."

"Mm."

"Nnnh."

"Hmm?"

"I'm thinking about Brawly again."

"Oh." Her mood could sink just as quickly as it flared, and it did so now. I wanted to comfort her, but I was too busy depressing over this new revelation. It was all too easy to reject strangers and not bother myself over the consequences. There was no attachment, no history, and as soon as they left, their personal feelings had no bearing on my life. This was different. Morty had been there for almost half my life. Chances were good our lives would continue to intersect, what with our common Gym Leader career. He wasn't going away. And, until these past five minutes, I only thought of him as my personal arch-nemesis. It wasn't a simple matter of not liking him- I didn't. What I truly did not want was him liking me.

Why did that bother me so much?

The clock passed the three-quarter-hour mark, meaning fifteen minutes until the finals match. Erika finally returned, a box of tissues and more desserts in hand.

"Now why do both of you look like the apocalypse?" she wondered aloud.

Chapter Text

"Lyra is with Ethan. They're findings seats for the match- we could go too, but I doubt we'll be able to get decent seating… It's unbelievably crowded. Seriously, what's with you two?"

Whitney and I mirrored each other, knees tucked tight and heads burrowed in folded arms. Neither of us answered.

"Do you guys even want to watch the battle?"

We simultaneously shook our heads.

"What's the matter?"

"Maylene is a fat-"

"Morty is a big-"

THUMP! THUMP! THUMP! THUMP! THUMP!

Loud, distinct footsteps interrupted our replies. Our heads swiveled, following the extremely irritated figure of Sabrina as she marched by us.

"Those are quite some boots she's wearing," Erika noted. She turned back to us. "Do you think this has something to do with Morty?" she asked.

Whitney and I nodded in unison.

"Would you like to go watch the battle in order to find out what that was all about?"

Whitney and I nodded in unison.

"Then let us be off," she said, beckoning us. We clumsily got up, sore, cramped, but otherwise lively. Erika led the way, in the direction Sabrina had come from.

Psychic-type gym leader, team leader is an Alakazam with a sky-high special attack. That's about as much as I knew about her. She seemed aggressive and assertive when I met her. Did she really view the bet as a kind of sexual game, where losing was almost as good as winning? I find that hard to believe. Aside from the impropriety of it, logically, Morty offered something valuable that he didn't want to give away, while Sabrina wasn't risking any kind of loss at all. If what I suspect is true, he needn't have bothered with the bet in the first place, if getting laid was his objective.

Remember, Jasmine, boys are stupid, they don't think logically. What about girls? I can't accept Sabrina's promiscuity, but if that's what she's comfortable with, then I have to admit she went about it logically. She got something that she wanted so… but… it isn't logical to be putting one's body on the line in the first place! This is assuming that my assessment of what had transpired between her and Morty had been accurate.

"Erika, what kind of person is Sabrina?" I asked.

"She is very much like you, in personality. Very headstrong, very determined, very stubborn, and confident. Unlike you, though, she also has a mean streak, fiercely competitive, and if rumors are to be believed, your complete opposite as concerns acts of intimacy." Thought so.

"She's a slut?" Whitney inquired.

"Ohohohoho… not quite." Erika chuckled.

Whitney and I raised a brow, and eyed each other. What was that supposed to mean?

"Tell us!" Whitney pleaded.

"Please don't," I pleaded.

Erika answered anyways.

"They say she's into BDSM."

Silent pause.

"I don't think Jasmine knows what that means, Erika."

"It means she's a dominatrix," I said.

Now the raised eyebrows were directed at me.

"Where would you learn a thing like that? You hiding a porn stash from us?"

"NO!"

"Really?"

"Really!" How had I got hooked like that?! Now they think I'm a secret pervert or something! Don't they understand that it's impossible to escape this slimy subculture if one wants to use the internet in any remote capacity? "I stumbled on it on the internet," I told them, truthfully.

"You mean on a porn site."

"No! No way!" I pinched Whitney for her impudence.

"Ouch!"

"It was on a SimKingdom forum. I saw it in a thread title and thought they were talking about a resource strategy."

"That's such an old game, Jasmine. Which means, you've known about BDSM for how long? When did it come out?"

"Five years ago? Six? I don't play computer games," Erika said.

"Seven," I answered.

"Seven! Oh my! Our little Jasmine, hiding dirty secrets like this for seven years!"

"I am not hiding anything! I do not associate with that kind of stuff! I left the thread the instant, the instant, I figured out what they were talking about!"

Will I ever escape this incessant teasing?! It's not even boys and relationships anymore, it's all this irrelevant sexual stuff!

"You would have been fourteen then. Such a tender age."

"The thread was four years ago. Back on topic!" I screeched (mildly, I didn't want someone to mistake this for a rape attempt). "So, if Sabrina is a deviant woman, and she's angry, and she recently lost a bet to Morty that would result in her… oinking… him, what can we conclude?"

"Oinking?"

"Don't make fun of my euphemisms, I have to work hard to come up with them. Back on topic!"

"I'm sorry, dear, but the fact that you use creative euphemisms in the first place is quite an amusement."

"Erika!"

"Apologies, apologies! What were you saying?"

"I'm trying to figure out what made Sabrina upset."

"I see. Alright, let's go about this logically, shall we? First, don't discount the fact that it may be totally unrelated to Morty."

"Yeah, her dad could have died, or she stepped in ice-cream."

"I doubt that." Actually, there was about a 50/50 chance of it being something like that, but that sounds too boring and my intuition told me otherwise.

"What do you think?"

"She wanted that Darkrai very badly, more than anyone else. She might be peeved that she didn't win," I speculated.

"She would be over that by now, I think. Her personality lends itself to short temperamental bursts, then fades into cold, calculated rage. She'd sooner plot revenge than waste more than an hour throwing a fit, unlike certain other people," Erika said, patting Whitney.

"You know this how?"

"I've been on the receiving end of her antagonisms more than once," she said.

"Okay, so she was probably planning to steal the Darkrai, but her plan fell through. Or she was planning on humiliating Morty, but her plan fell through. Something like that."

"Perhaps."

"Maybe Morty wouldn't have sex with her?" Whitney asked.

"And maybe Morty will join the priesthood," I retorted. "Hmm. Maybe he wanted to try something so disgusting she couldn't stand it?"

"Ha! No, I don't see that happening," Erika said. "It would be the other way around. Perhaps she asked to do something so gross and Morty declined, thus abrogating the bet?"

"Ugh. I don't want to imagine that."

"Maylene… maybe he wants to do Maylene instead?" Whitney wondered.

"Sounds plausible," I said. "I also wouldn't put it past Morty to find a way to antagonize her without resorting to Nature Channel topics." The other two giggled.

"If she's a dom, maybe Morty got her to be the sub? You think that would be enough to piss her off?" Whitney said.

"Maybe. I don't know how he could convince her to do that. A new bet?"

"He coulda tricked her into it. You know Morty, he's pretty damn good at mind games."

"Very true."

"Hmm. There's a lot it could be," Whitney said.

"I know, it's frustrating," I said.

"Why do you care so much?" Erika asked the both of us.

"We're girls, we love drama!" Whitney exclaimed, to which I nodded. "I wanna know what's going to happen between Maylene and Morty, too. Maybe I can use this to get Brawly back."

"Oh, I see. And Jasmine? How about you?"

"Vengeance-minded curiosity," I offered as explanation.

"Well you are certainly more approachable concerning the subject today. Usually you would simply keep silent."

"Chalk it up to stress. It's not like I'm changing my stance towards the whole thing."

"Indeed."

The noise level increased audibly as we approached the Main Outdoor Stadium.

"How many people are here?"

"There should only be a few hundred. What's with the crowd?"

We broke through the final exit into broad sunshine.

"Jasmine, is this usual?"

"No."

The entire stadium was filled. It was the third largest venue in Johto, nominal capacity of twenty thousand, and people were jumping over each other to find standing room.

"I did notice the parking lot and buses picking up in traffic the last hour. I assumed regular trainers were just coming back after the summit ended. But this is a little much. Is some event scheduled today?" Erika asked me.

"One sec," I said, and darted off. The public computer terminals were operating, thankfully. I typed out a header. "Oh, wow. What? WHAT?!"

"What's up?"

"How come I didn't see this?"

"What is it?"

I pointed at the terminal. "Well, it's complicated. Look." On the surface was the week's schedule for the Battle Tower. The bulk of today was dedicated to the Gym Leader Summit. Most other functions had to be cancelled to make room for the summit, including the normal Trainer Challenges. It was effectively closed for business while the Pokémon League conducted its business. The summit was scheduled to be over by now, so a certain bulk of trainers would be here waiting for the Tower to reopen. What caught my eye, however, were the two highlighted topics on the schedule.

The first- "Gym Leader Tournament Finale! This year's Gym Leader Tournament has been hotter than anyone thought imaginable! The final match is a thrilling battle between Ecruteak's Morty and Sunnyshore's Volkner! Now open to the public! Free admission! Come watch the best of the Gym Leaders clash!" This was dated just over an hour ago.

The second, dated a week ago, and probably the primary reason for the overpacked stadium- "Exhibition match. Following the Gym Leader Summit, a special match has been offered by the Pokémon League for your entertainment. This once-in-a-lifetime event will feature legendary trainer and Pokémon League CEO Steven Stone against the current World Champion, Red. Open to the public, free stadium admission, or tune in on Channel 8."

"Oh!"

Mr. Stone's partner, when he was at the gala, the guy I thought was so familiar. That was Red, the World Champion! How had I missed that? Wait, never mind, Stone told me who he was, I just wasn't paying attention. And Red had also been sitting right next to me during the practice matches! The strongest non-retired trainer in the world! Right beside me! I seriously should have gotten advice from him then. Oh wait, he had been kind of rude. Scratch that. Still! I would have liked to see his Pokémon up close. I can't tell this to anyone, but I still think his Pikachu is adorable, and find it admirable that he can use an un-evolved Pokémon and win with it.

"So they came to watch Steven and Red duke it out, but got Morty and Volkner as a warm-up act. Lucky crowd."

"Hmm."

"What are you thinking, Jasmine?"

I was thinking a great deal of things, but didn't want to bother them with the deeper stuff.

"I won't be able to stay for the Red versus Steven match, I think. I need to bring Amphy food before he lights up tonight." A legitimate excuse.

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"It's okay. I have an idea."

"For what?"

"I can stay for Morty and Volkner. I think I can get us a better view. Come with me."

Back in the hallway, I scurried onward till I found what I was looking for. My head darted from left to right, making sure no one could see us.

"Here."

I led them through an unmarked door, and down a stairwell.

"What's this, Jasmine being naughty?" Erika intoned.

"Hahahahaha!" Whitney was the one who laughed.

"For your information, I am in no way against breaking rules from time to time for a little fun. As long as you use the word "naughty' by its literal definition, yes, I am a "naughty" girl. Don't giggle." They really wanted to, I could tell. "These corridors are used by medical staff, so they have to remain unlocked. Hurry uoooffff!" I rounded a corner much too fast and collided with a person going the other way.

"You!"

"Ouch, fuck, who-" she said. I shoved her away, hard enough to hurt her, which was the intention. But I didn't want her dead, exactly, so my next action was to turn around and tackle the already lunging Whitney. It took Erika's help in restraining her. Her hands were still stretched out to their maximum, aiming for the interloper's throat.

"I'll kill you!" Who else could provoke this reaction from Whitney? Maylene sat on her tush where I had shoved her over, dazed. I fully expected her to taunt Whitney, or perhaps even jump in and start a three-way catfight.

But, contrary to my expectations, she picked herself up, unsteadily, and ran away without a word.

"The hell? You get back here and take your beating! I'll show you a karate chop or ten!"

"Whitney!"

We held her until she went still.

"Unnh."

"You can't attack others like that."

"Sorry." She broke free, but remained calm. "I thought she hit Jasmine."

"No, we just ran into each other." So much violence! We're acting like a bunch of boys. I can't wait for this summit to be over so that everyone's nerves can go back to normal.

"Why was she in a hurry? She didn't even bother saying anything," I asked.

"Hey, did you guys just see- oh, hey!" And yet another figure burst into the hallway, panting and out of breath.

"What's the commotion?" And six more people walked down the hallway from the opposite direction.

"There was an accident," was all I could muster, utterly stunned.

Erika, Whitney, two body guards, Lance, Volkner, Red, and Steven stared blankly at me.

Morty, though- he just grinned.

"You're not supposed to be here," Lance said quite sternly.

Mr. Stone held up a hand. "I'll deal with this."

He approached me. "There was a young lady who rushed past us. What happened?"

"W-w-we-we ran into each- each other. It was an accident." I was stuttering, badly. My face had gone flush.

"Is that so?" Stone didn't believe me! Do they think I attacked Maylene? I did push her down... oh crap! What am I going to do? Blame it all on Whitney?

"I'm the one at fault." I turned around, to witness Morty take the blame. "I'm the reason the lady was upset. She's just an innocent bystander," he said, indicating me.

"What are they doing here? This is a restricted-"

"Lance, I told you I've got this." Mr. Stone turned to me again. "I'm terribly sorry for suspecting you. I am also sorry that I do not remember your name. You're the Gym Leader for this city, correct?"

"That's right," the words had to be forced out of my mouth. He stared at me, and it took an embarrassing second to figure out he was expecting my name.

"Mikan, Jasmine Mikan." My mother's surname.

"Pleased to meet you again, Ms. Mikan. Now about your presence here…"

"That's also my fault," Morty interjected again. "She's a friend."

"Oh! I see." Mr. Stone's demeanor turned from stern to surprise to exuberant. "You know Morty do you?"

"I do." I wish I was lying.

"Excellent! I've got an idea. How is your singing voice?"

"Terrible, sir."

"No, I won't take self-criticism. Let me hear you."

"No! Please, sir, it's really bad."

"I insist."

He is the Pokémon League CEO. One does not refuse one's head boss lightly.

"Mary and Mareep did walk,

Quietly through the snow,

And everywhere that Mary went,

The world was sure to glow."

"Quite fair. Good, very good. Come with me. Your friends may come too. Now for you, Morty, I'd like an explanation as to why a young and beautiful woman is in tears."

He passed me by to converse with Morty. I could practically feel the aura of power and prestige exuding off of him. It made me feel faint.

What did he want with my singing voice? Would I get in trouble for being down here? What did Morty do, and why are there now two girls (myself excluded) upset with him? I watched Morty and Mr. Stone converse, hoping to allay my confusion, but I couldn't make out their hushed voices.

"That's quite crude of you, Morty. I recommend you be more discerning in the future." Mr. Stone was finished with him. He turned to the rest of the group. "Let's go, the crowd is getting anxious."

I'm the one getting anxious!

As we walked along, I heard Mr. Stone talk on his cellphone.

"Change of plans. I'm not feeling up for singing today, so I found a substitute. Yes. Yes, it's a young lady. She has a good voice. No, don't be like that. I have a wife and we're quite in love, but thank you for your input. No. Well I'm terribly sorry but as you well know I've been taken for three years now. No. No! I'm going now, be sure to inform the announcers."

"Please don't hang up! Steven! Steven! Ste-" The faint shouting over his cellphone cut off abruptly. Mr. Stone pocketed the device, shaking his head.

 Another man, tall with wild blonde hair, wearing a green cloak and a fierce expression, appeared waiting for us at a juncture.

"Ah, Palmer, just the man I wanted to speak to." He and Mr. Stone fell into deep conversation, leaving the rest of us to our own whims. By our direction, I guessed we were circumventing through the stadium's lower hallway, heading towards the main entrance. In that case it would be a long walk. I wanted to stick close to Erika and Whitney, but in the shuffle of bodies I was forced to the outer edge of our trio. It wasn't long before unwelcome company fell into step with me.

"Hello again," Morty said.

I ignored him.

"Oh not the silent treatment. You know that's the worst possible punishment for me."

"Congratulations on your victory," I said, hopefully pumping the tone with enough acidity to get the point across. "There! Does that fulfill my social obligations?"

"Hardly; after receiving such a compliment, I should return it in kind. And thank you, by the way, it was easier than expected."

"Eh."

"Well, since one compliment deserves another, how should I repay your kind words? Oh I've got it: You are very beautiful today, dear Jasmine, especially with your hair down."

Considering I'm in a t-shirt and shorts and haven't properly washed-

"Touché."

"Were you watching the matches? Well, you being you, I can't expect you to be watching mine, but maybe Volkner's?"

I glanced at the blondie trailing at the tail-end of our convoy.

"No, I was comforting Whitney."

"Ah. Is she still upset?"

"Yes, but not as much since you beat Maylene."

"I thought you said you didn't watch the battle?"

"We saw the results on the board."

"Pity, pity. It was a good match. Fun, even."

"Fun? It was a 6-0. You used the Darkrai, didn't you?"

"From the start. I actually only have the six Pokémon on me. I figured since it's a dark type, and Maylene is a fighting-type specialist, I should send it out first and get its shot in, before I was cornered with it later in the match."

"Right, and you went flawless."

"What can I say? It was dumb luck."

"Liar. Sabrina is right, it's a cheap Pokémon." To this Morty shrugged. Even the way he battles is dirty. Are there no redeeming features to this guy?

"Where'd you get a Pokémon like that?" I asked.

By way of answer he mimed a zipping motion across his lips. He's not going to tell me.

"Then tell me why Maylene's upset just now."

"She lost the battle, of course."

"I don't believe you. That was an hour ago, she wouldn't still be here."

"I really can't say then."

"Did it have to do with the bet?"

He shrugged.

"I know what the terms of the bet were. You're pretty vile."

"It's not a big deal. Well, it's less than a little deal now."

"What does that mean?"

He mimed the zipped lips motion again. Over the years that had become code for something secret that nothing less than torture could extract from him. One was better off dropping the subject. But, failing that subject, I had nothing else to talk to him about.

He thought otherwise.

"So what brings you down to the catacombs?" Morty asked.

I tried ignoring him again, but the way he kept his eyes focused on me was unnerving. Several seconds passed, but he wouldn't let up.

"I was getting a better view for Erika and Whitney," I said, finally.

"So you wanted to watch me fight now?" You sound too eager!

"No!"

"You wanted to watch Volkner fight."

"Why should I care about him?"

"No reason. Unless you were reconsidering your stance towards him."

"What stance?"

"He and I are buddies, he shares everything with me. Us blond ditzes have to stick together after all."

"Blond men can't be ditzes. And what did he say about me?"

I thought back to the past week. Volkner and I had met at orientation at last year's summit, but only briefly. This year he had made one of the more awkwardly shy, yet determined efforts to court me that I had yet experienced. He had been so modest, in fact, it had taken me a few days to realize what he was getting at, which is why I suffered his company longer than I might have.

So what did he tell Morty after I rejected him?

"Nothing that I already didn't know about you," Morty answered.

"What did you tell him?" I asked.

"Quite a bit. Brother to brother talk deep into the night, if you will. But I guess the sum of it was to not take it personally. It's not his fault, it's hers. Or, yours, I should say."

"I'll smack you."

"Go ahead, a little pain is so little a price for telling the truth."

"I…" I raised my hand, not one to give threats idly. However, I was keenly aware of Mr. Stone trotting behind me. Still, Morty deserves something.

"You're such a violent little girl," Morty added. "Ooof!" My fist pounded into his soft tummy. "See?" he squeaked out.

"That's what I learned from you in middle school. Boys don't listen, they need pain to convey messages. That 'talk with our fists' shonen crap is instilled into you from birth. That's what I have to do to get across to you boys."

"That's really not a healthy attitude for a girl to have. Men won't respect you if you try taking them on with brute force."

"They respect me enough to leave me alone, after a good whack. All of them except you."

"Never mind me. Even if they leave you alone, it's not out of respect or fear. Men are boys, they will always think that, in the one area of brute force, they will always be better than a girl. They leave you alone because they dislike you."

"What are you getting at?"

"Men don't like violent girls. Because they don't like them, they don't show them the same respect and niceties they show towards other women."

This set my blood boiling.

"I don't care if they hate me. If they can't treat me the same whether I'm a female or male then I feel completely justified using force to keep them off my back."

"Funny."

"It's not funny."

"Well, how is that working for you?"

"Most men leave me alone without-" and I had fallen into his trap. Most men don't need physical reminders to keep their distance. Only one person seems to bother me repeatedly, and no matter how many times I smack, pound, and punch him, he always comes back. My time-honored method for dealing with boys has had the exact opposite effect with one boy I hate the most. Bastard!

"You see my point?" Morty asked.

"So why do you keep bothering me?" I asked.

"What can I say, I like tsundere." He smiled, and shrugged in exaggerated manner.

The… this… this… bastard! My thoughts raced back to the conversation with Whitney. Does he seriously like me? Is he attracted to me because I've been so belligerent towards him?

Boys (Morty) are stupid. They tease girls they like. Girls (me) bully them back in order to get them to shove off, because girls don't like being teased. Boys only understand teasing, bullying, pain, etc. In boy language, a girl bullying him is the same as saying she likes him.

Oh my god, it all makes sense!

The revelation hit me hard enough to freeze me mid-step. Morty stopped to stare at me.

"What's wrong?"

I regained my composure and dashed forward before we fell behind. I turned to Morty and whispered to him.

"Let me make this explicitly clear: I have no feelings for you!"

"Hahahaha! Of course not, if you say so."

He brushed me off. The nerve of him!

"Well? Don't tell me you had feelings for me."

"You're cute." He began patting my head, like a child, before I batted his hand away.

"Tell me the truth," I demanded.

"This is refreshing, hearing you so excited about the topic of love."

"Don't make fun of me. Tell me the truth!"

Without warning, he pulled me into a side passage, cornering me against the wall. I was trapped, and he stood there not a foot in front of me. What was he going to do? His eyes bore into me, deep orbs, colored in unnatural shades of brown- I felt like I was staring into twin Jupiters, with twin black holes at their core. His lips were parted, slightly.

His hands raised to my head.

"Don't you dare touch me," I warned, tensing up. The noise from the group had passed, leaving us completely alone. There was no one here to intercede. My hand fell to my last resort, Steelix's pokeball. I was shaking.

"Hold still," he commanded.

"Get off me!" To no avail, his hands grabbed at my hair, tugging, pulling, and violating. Something was extracted from his pocket and affixed to my head.

"Rapist!" I screamed.

No one heard, but Morty stepped back.

"Not to my taste, but whatever," he said, as if admiring his handiwork.

My hands delicately went up to my head. What they found there was a shock, because it was all too familiar. He had put my spiky mini-tails back in place. I hadn't set them since the gala.

"What was that? You creep! You damned creep!" I attempted to kick him in the ass but he dodged out of the way, laughing.

"Hurry up, I think Steven wants you. And ask Erika for her blouse, you don't want to go out with that ugly t-shirt on."

"Jasmine!" Erika's cries came from down the hallway. "Jasmine!"

"I'll kill you, one of these days," I spat out as I passed him by.

"Cheer for me," he retorted.

20,000 people packed the stadium benches. That's five digits. That's four times more people than I have ever seen in one place. The most I've seen in my entire life, barring television. Speaking of, some number six or even seven digits long would be watching on television too. Add in an unknown, mind-boggling number of Pokémon. A truly incomprehensible number of sentient beings. Every last one of them is staring directly at me.

And they expect me to sing.

…

How did I get into this situation?!?!

8 minutes ago:

"Right, so I'm not much of a singer, but the promoters were lazy and didn't arrange for one, so I got stuck with the job. Would you mind taking over? It's only the regional anthem, no one's going to judge you, and you have a beautiful voice."

Lying lazy lizard. He was dumping this embarrassing task on me. Even the legendary, mythical Steven Stone can't escape the stereotypes of his sex. On any other occasion, from any other person, I would tell him to shove off. But I can't. Not because he's the greatest trainer in recorded history, or that I was in awe of his presence, or that I respected him. The simple matter was, I'm on probation, and he's my boss (or my bosses' bosses' boss, but technicalities aside-). I did have a choice, I could refuse without official reprimand. But, that was not going to help my standing with the Pokémon League. Doing him this favor might. So, I chose my career over my dignity.

"Hurry over here!"

"Huh?"

As soon I assented, Erika pulled me into a side room.

"You don't want to go out in that, do you?"

I looked at myself. Yes, short-shorts and t-shirt were perfectly acceptable for a live performance before 20,000 people. If I were a 10 year old, that is.

"Do you have something extra? Oh…" I uttered. Erika was already taking off her blouse and skirt and tossing them into my arms. I took off my own clothes and handed them to Erika.

"Where's your bra?" Erika asked. Her head tilted to one side, curious.

"In the laundry."

"All of them?"

"Yes! What's wrong? Not like there's anything to hold up." Sad, but true.

"Uhuh. Take mine." She forced her B-cups onto me. They were too large, but Erika wrestled them onto me anyways.

"These are really uncomfortable."

"Hmm." She eyed my chest. "Right, yes." She bent down and removed her socks.

"What are you doing? Hey, stop it! Stop!" Too late, her socks were shoved into the bra cups.

"There, now you have boobs."

"You want me to go out there with fake boobs?!"

"It's a silk blouse; if you go braless they'll see your nipples."

/poker-face

We exited the impromptu dressing room. I tried, with all my might, to keep a straight face and dignified posture, even as I earned the entire male cast's undivided attention. Welp- better this than the alternative…

Before I realized it, we were strolling out of the main entrance and into the canyon of the stadium. The air was like a thick haze, heavy with the roars and cheers of the massive crowd.

"So many people," I said. Red glanced over at me.

"Not really. It's not that big a stadium." He was utterly calm, bored even.

"What's Indigo League's capacity?" Stone asked.

"105,000, for the main arena," Red answered.

105,000. Five times this. No wonder I'm awed at this sight and he's not even remotely fazed. Red is the global champion and Indigo isn't even the largest in the world. He's been here before; it's completely normal for him.

Knowing that didn't make me feel any less nervous.

Palmer stepped forward to begin the introductions.

"You may watch from the bench seating, over there," Mr. Stone said to Erika and Whitney. At least I kept my promise to them- front row seating, best in the house.

After a short speech and other introductions, Palmer's voice boomed out: "And now, as representative of the Battle Frontier Organization, I would like to extend my thanks to the hosts of this year's Pokémon League Gym Leader Summit. Please give a big round of applause to Johto Battle Tower Manager Dahlia!" The applause was duly given. "Mayor Adoch of Olivine City, who was not able to join us today." Polite applause given nonetheless. "And in his stead, representative of fair Olivine City and its beloved Gym Leader, Jasmine Mikan!" With this a great cheer broke out, and Palmer waved me forward.

I took the steps, one at a time, trying, with all my might, to not sweat, not hyperventilate, not stutter, and prayed fervently that I wouldn't make a total mockery of myself.

"And now, would you please stand as Jasmine leads us in the regional anthem."

This was it. There I was, at the podium, the mike a few inches from my mouth and turned on.

And the eyes of 20,000 lay on me, waiting for lyrics.

Please don't let them make fun of me.

I began.

"Oh beautiful and gracious skies,

Look down on our fair land,

To see a world of peace and love,

And all who share hand in hand,

Working for a future shining bright,

Our unity is our guiding light,

Through dark nights we take a stand.

Never forget the toils past,

Their sacrifices made to last,

The future we yearn for in ours souls,

Near as tomorrow our hope -hiccup!-  does grow.

For Johto we shed our joyous tears,

For Johto we set aside our fears,

For all of us that Johto bears,

The journey of life shines on!"

I'm gasping for air, feeling like a train wreck, nerves absolutely frayed, and I just hiccupped in the middle of the regional anthem in front of thousands of people!

I'm done for!

…

They're all applauding.

I can't believe this.

They didn't care. They had sung right along with me, ignored the hiccup, and when I finished, they broke out into wild cheering. It's enough to think that the people of Johto are really as good-willed as the anthem suggests they are. I bowed, less to receive their praise than to hide my blushing face.

"Thank you very, very much, Ms. Mikan, that was a beautiful performance. Now, who's ready for a different kind of performance? Eh?!" Palmer took control of the mike. The crowd exploded into more cheering. "Maybe a little showmanship, maybe the kind involving some white-hot Pokémon battles, do you want to see that?" Another sudden leap in the stadium's volume. I took my leave as quickly as dignity allowed. Palmer spent another minute firing up the crowd, while Volkner and Morty made their way to the stage. Morty stopped to have a few words before he went up.

"You were pretty good. Pretty voice, very nice tune."

"I'm not taking compliments," I said.

"Well that's not going to stop me from giving them. Are you going to let them rot in the air?"

"Hmph. Get on with it. Go be a cheap scum and finish this quickly. I'd rather watch Red and Mr. Stone's battle, but I'm short on time."

"You think I'll win?"

"With Darkrai? Easily."

"You're underestimating Volkner." He pulled close to me, and whispered in my ear. "Tell me, why did you become a Gym Leader?"

I pushed him away.

"Why? You've got a battle, go fight it and stop asking me stupid questions."

"Just answer me." He stood, waiting for an answer. If he doesn't get one, might he hold up the match? He would, he's not averse to that kind of impropriety. Better make up an answer.

"Because I like Pokémon."

"You could've been a breeder, or just keep Pokemon around without ever training or battling with them. I'm asking why you became a Gym Leader." He came closer again, invading my personal space.

I didn't know how to answer such an introspective question on the fly.

"I just wanted to."

"Okay, if you don't answer, let me try. I think you do appreciate a good Pokémon battle. You were always feisty, loved competitions during class and gym, loved to solve puzzles, and most of all, loved to battle. That's something you really like. Becoming a Gym Leader is proof enough how important it is to you."

"Even if that's true, what does that have to do with anything?" This impudent man! I'm not ashamed to say I like battling, nor that I'm competitive. Nonetheless, how dare he try to psychoanalyze me!

Morty bent in close, his hand reached around my shoulder, keeping me in place and from running away. His voice came across very low, seductive-like:

"Watch us. Watch us very closely. You'll be… amazed. I promise." And with that promise, he drew back, grinned, and left. Moments later he joined Volkner on the stage as Palmer prepared to introduce them.

I touched my ear, the warmth of his breath still lingering on my skin. Morty, what on earth are you playing at?

 Palmer's voice boomed out. "Let's get this show started! Trainers, forward!"

Chapter Text

Morty: handsome, arrogant, confident, manipulative, childish, perverted, conceited, blasphemous, savant idiot. Decent sense of fashion. Loves outdoor activities, myths, the occult, paranormal, and travelling. Hates being ignored, enjoys being criticized. Preys on sexual tension and innuendo. Gym leader, Ghost type specialist. Known since 7^th grade. Makes fun of me, plays pranks on me, verbally assaults me, possibly has a crush on me, or is just playing with my feelings.

Volkner: handsome, modest, meek, indecisive, boring, childish, inept, honorable, respectful, oblivious. Awful sense of fashion. Cocky when it comes to Pokémon battles, cowardly in most other areas. Enjoys technology and tinkering, hates leeks. Gym leader, Electric type specialist. Known for a few days. Definitely has a crush on me, recently rejected.

If Volkner was truly a threat to Morty, then this Pokémon battle could be a good one. But, even if it were a good match, who should I root for? Neither of the competitors appealed to me; and yes, it was precisely because of my difficult personal history with each of them. Had I known Volkner longer, or had he not made a point to hit on me, I would certainly be rooting for him. Morty had the greater share of negative experiences attached to him. But as is, Morty, for his infinite number of faults, was a fixture in my life, a known quantity. I'd trust him not to rape and murder me, at least. Volkner was a stranger, a creeper, an unknown that I couldn't trust.

So, when the two young men stepped up to the trainers' boxes, I found myself hoping both would lose. And, just to spite Morty, that they would put on a dull, mistake-filled, unwatchable match.  

"Trainers, please send out your Pokémon. Match, IGNITE!" Palmer's hand went down, signaling for them to begin.

"Go, Darkrai!"

"Go, Raichu!"

Morty started with his power house. Volkner began with his team leader. Neither side was going to waste time.

"Thunderbolt!" Raichu fired off an electric bolt. It arced through the air, cracking the ground Darkrai had occupied a moment before.

"Keep your distance, Thunderbolt!"

"Dark Void!" Darkrai let loose a sphere of pulsing black energy. Raichu scampered backwards, dodging it and unleashing its own Thunderbolt. Darkrai was hit, but shook it off.

"Thunderbolt!"

"Dark Void!"

The commands were simple, actually. The initial scene repeated several times over- A Dark Void, dodged, and a Thunderbolt, shrugged off. The trainers had little to do, under the circumstances. Each Pokémon was vying for range: Darkrai attempting to get close enough to land a Dark Void, which would, for all practical purposes, be an instant knock-out. Raichu was keeping itself at long range, trying to wear down the legendary with constant Thunderbolts. Each time it stopped to let loose, however, Darkrai gained more ground, or better field position.

"Raichu is Volkner's most seasoned and agile Pokémon. If any of Volkner's team is capable of kiting the mighty Darkrai, Raichu is it. Will it be able to pull this off?"

I looked to my left. Erika was seated next to me, then Whitney, who had her smart-phone out. She was getting a live-feed of the match, and listening to the accompanying television commentary.

She caught me looking at her.

"I'm recording it. I want to fight Morty later," she explained.

"Oh."

"Quick Attack outbound!" Volkner yelled, realizing too late that Raichu was in a bad position. The fat electric rodent picked up speed, sprinting along the arena's boundary, attempting to get around Darkrai.

"Dark Void!"

Darkrai let fly another sphere, this time leading Raichu's path. The Pokémon dropped to the dirt, knocked unconscious.

"Wake up! wake up!"

"Dark Pulse!"

Darkrai unleashed dark energy into the air. It used its preternatural powers to corral the energy, focusing it into a more powerful blob, and launched it directly at Raichu. The subsequent smack was audibly painful. Raichu was flipped into the air, then landed with a thud.

"Raichu is unable to battle!"

"That was some Dark Pulse! That's not a little ten minute KO, Volkner's Raichu is going to be out for quite some time."

"You think that was overkill, maybe?" The commentators on Whitney's phone explained how Darkrai had enhanced its attack, but I was watching the trainers' faces.

Volkner was still confident.

Morty was surprised. At what?

"Please send in your next Pokémon," the judge, a pudgy, clean-shaven middle-aged man, said to Volkner.

"You know, you're not the only one here with a legendary," Volkner shouted to his foe. The headsets each trainer were given beforehand magnified their voices, allowing the whole stadium to hear their mid-battle banter.

"Oh really?" Morty replied. "Let's see it!"

"Both trainers are firing up their language! Which legendary will Volkner bring out?"

"Zapdos, go!"

Oh wow. A Zapdos?

Sure enough, a Zapdos appeared.

Lightning fairly crackled off its wings. The legendary bird soared high into the air, gaining distance on Darkrai- just like Raichu. This must've been something his whole team trained for.

No wait, distance wasn't the only thing a Zapdos would want height for-

"Thunder!" came Volkner's command.

"Too noisy! Go after him!" Morty commanded.

The air lit up beneath Zapdos, yellow and white-hot flashes streamed down, pelting the entire arena. But in the moment it took to unleash the powerful Electric attack, Darkrai flew up to appear directly in front of Zapdos.

"Dark Void!" At point-blank range, it couldn't miss. Zapdos fell to the ground, asleep.

"Dark Pulse!" In exactly the same way, Darkrai leisurely unleashed a wave of dark energy, concentrated it, and then sent it into Zapdos' body.

"Is it done?"

"No, it's asleep, but still healthy. It is a legendary bird, after all."

"Oh what? Again!" Morty cried. Darkrai repeated its attack, but the Zapdos, unconscious but still undefeated, shook. Dark Void is an artificial form of sleep, it's not like the Pokémon can't try to power through the drowsiness and get back into the battle. Zapdos was attempting just that.

"Zap!!!!!" It did awake, electricity coursing across its wingtips.

It was futile. A third focused Dark Pulse was already ready and flying. Zapdos was hit underneath the beak, sent flying onto its back, and remained still. This time, there were no signs of heaving, shaking, or struggling. It had fainted.

"To take three of those Dark Pulses? That's one tough bird! Still, Morty's Darkrai is one unstoppable beast."

This was worse than a poor, sloppy battle, or even a good, tight battle. It was a brutal curb-stomp by that wretched blondie and his ill-gotten legendary. I bit my lip. Was this what Morty wanted me to see? Him utterly dominating his opponent? Did he think a cheap, one trick pony was going to impress me?

Volkner showed no signs of defeat, just a little consternation. Morty was all smiles. The crowd was roaring and hollering. The one-sidedness actually excited them; they were borderline giddy to see the mythical Darkrai in action.

"Electivire!"

"Virre!" I've never seen one of these before. It looked kind of odd, if you ask me, like an Electabuzz packed on too many rare candies. I suppose it's similar enough to its pre-evolution capability-wise: speedy with powerful electric bolts, but not much else.

"Electivire! Raichu is definitely Volkner's team leader and his favorite, but between you and me, Bob, I think Electivire is his strongest fighter. Let's see if it fairs any better than Raichu or Zapdos."

The television commentators- their tone bugs me. It's a kind of gleeful sarcasm. They knew as well as I did Darkrai was nigh-unstoppable. Even under the remote chance that he stopped it here and now, Morty would be at such an advantage, it'd be impossible to overcome.

"Dark Void!"

"Dodge!" Electivire took a single step back, tilting its head casually, letting the sleep-inducing sphere fly by. "Thunderbolt!" It charged up a shot and fired, striking Darkrai square in the chest. As if it cared. The bolt petered out without causing any lasting damage.

See what I mean? Not only is it cheap and powerful, look how well it's tanking those lightning attacks! Volkner's finished.

"Dark Void! Dark Void!"

"Dodge and Thunder!" Volkner called. Couldn't he come up with a better strategy? Both of them are relying on brute force and their Pokémons' reflexes and strength! Trainers exist to help their Pokémon with their brains, not set them on autopilot! With a dumbass non-strategy like that, the more powerful Pokémon always wins- and that'd be the stupid Darkrai!

Morty, you're not impressing me, you're pissing me off!

Yet each Pokémon dutifully obeyed its orders.

Darkrai fired the (relatively) slow moving Dark Void. Electivire side-stepped and charged up its nodes. Darkrai used the cover of its first Dark Void to close the gap, and launched a second at much closer range. Electivire was engulfed in the coursing tendrils of darkness. It slumped into a sitting posture, unmoving.

"Dark Pulse!"

Darkrai obeyed.

Electivire sprung to life, blitzing forward.

The echo of the Cross Chop rebounded across the arena; I could hear it loud and clear from my seat.

"Vital Spirit, asshole!" Volkner shouted. Morty watched in horror as his Darkrai went down.

"Darkrai, Dark Pulse, don't waste time focusing it! A normal one!" he cried, hoping that his Pokémon hadn't been KO'd.

"No way. Follow through Electivire!" If one Cross Chop wasn't strong enough to down a legendary Dark type, the four consecutive Cross Chops that followed certainly would. Finally, Darkrai fell.

"Vital Spirit, the ability to completely resist sleep effects. Who knew such a useful ability belonged to Electivire?" This from Whitney's smart-phone.

Morty held his face. He waited, probably deliberately, for the judge to remind him to recall Darkrai and send out another Pokémon. He spoke to Volkner as he did so.

"Well, good thing you didn't have enough money to cover the bet."

"That's the best you got?" Volkner asked, smugly.

"That's all I got," Morty replied. "This sucks. Even if I don't have to hand over Darkrai-"

"I don't want your cheap-ass legendary, Morty."

"Seriously? Go Mismagius! I think I could've swept your team if I had known about the Vital Spirit ability. Now… not sure if I can win, period."

Morty, you liar! Stop messing with him! Volkner snapped your crutch in two, oh boo-hoo! Fight for real instead of relying on that insipid legendary! I know you're perfectly capable of battling without it!

Volkner thought the same way, making a sign equivalent to 'fuck off', making sure to hide it from the cameras. "I don't need any of your leftovers," he spat out. And these guys were supposed to be friends? Seems like something's gotten between them. How many people are you going to tick off today, Morty?!

He shrugged Volkner's insult off.

"Contestants, please continue."

"Right. Considering Vital Spirit, I bet I can do this- Thunder Wave!"

Mismagius let loose an almost invisible sheet of electricity, intending to paralyze Electivire.

"Hahaha! Thunder Punch!" Because, to my utter surprise, Electivire barreled straight through the Thunder Wave, gaining speed as it did so. As if it ignored the paralyzing wave- no! It's absorbing it! The electricity was being drawn into its nodes. What the hell?

"What the hell?" Morty echoed my thoughts, word for word, as Electivire connected its lightning-primed fist with Mismagius.

"Motor Drive."

"Not even possible!" Morty declared.

"He's got Vital Spirit, how can it have two abilities?" I asked aloud. An ability to resist sleep, and an ability to turn incoming electrical attacks into speed boosts? At the same time? That's unheard of!

"You've been teaching your Pokes to combine attacks, you don't think I was going to face you without an ace of my own?" Volkner said.

"And you kept this secret? We've been friends how long?"

"Eyes front."

Electivire fairly blinked out of existence. Its speed after a Motor Drive boost was fast. Even at this distance, the eye couldn't follow. It hit Mismagius with another Thunder Punch. Mismagius's body flashed briefly, becoming paralyzed itself.

"Thunder Punch for the KO!"

"Recall! Rotom!" The digitization of Pokémon happened nigh instantly. Mismagius retreated back into her pokeball, and was replaced with Rotom. Electivire's punch sent the little electric ball flying across the arena. It was powerful enough to trigger the force fields, smashing Rotom into the invisible barriers that protected the crowd. Rotom stood still, then shook, then hovered into position, mostly unhurt.

"Will-o-Wisp!"

"Recall!"

Volkner switched his Pokémon out, copying Morty. Instead of Electivire, a new Pokémon took the burn. It was a rodent I've never seen before. It resembled a cross between Pachirisu and Sentret: really cute, but honestly out of place in a high-level battle like this.

"Emolga, Tailwind!"

"What's an Emolga?" I asked.

Whitney looked it up quickly for me. "It's an Electric Flyer, it's from the Unova Region."

"That's not even our country."

Rotom blanketed the arena with Ominous Wind, attempting to catch the tiny opponent. The natural wind had picked up suddenly and viciously- I'm guessing it had something to do with the whirlwinds the flying squirrel unleashed. The billowing air disrupted Ominous Wind, dissipating it.

"Eh, try Shadow Ball."

The Emolga was much too fast, even faster than Electivire. Every direction it wheeled and banked, the wind seemed to follow, pushing it even faster. Rotom could not turn fast enough to aim, let alone hit it.

"Fast! Rotom, try Ball Lightning!" An attack I've never heard of.

"Emolga also has Motor Drive, will an electric attack do anything?" a commentator mused.

I was expecting something new, but instead, Rotom fired a perfectly normal Thunderbolt at Emolga- or rather, Emolga's general direction, as the flying squirrel was zipping about too fast.

No, wait, this isn't a normal Thunderbolt. Rotom kept firing it, creating a continuous beam. It finally connected with Emolga, but only served to increase its speed even faster. The laser-like electrical beam danced across the arena, never letting go of Emolga. It was like a tesla-coil light show.

"Thanks for the speed boost. Emolga, Electro Ball!" An attack based on the user's speed- faster is stronger. And between the Tailwind and constant Motor Drive boosts… oh crap. Morty, are you ready for this?"

"Rotom!" the Pokémon cried in its static-ridden, synthesized voice. At the exact moment Volkner ordered the Electro Ball, Rotom unleashed a Shadow Ball, which zipped along the Thunderbolt it had  been streaming onto Emolga. The duel spheres raced towards each other. A flash erupted, the air crackled with static, and everyone in the audience was forced to shield their eyes.

"Ball Lightning is, in fact, a combination of Thunderbolt and Shadow Ball. The Shadow Ball is given a positive electrical charge, which then allows the Thunderbolt to act as a guiding wire when fired. Not simple to do, only a Rotom can pull this combo off," Morty explained.

"Why so proud? All that to survive one attack?" Volkner retorted.

"Nope. That same Shadow Ball polarized the air with a positive charge. The same air your Emolga is so happily zipping through right now. The same Emolga who uses its Motor drive to absorb the electrical charges around it."

"So?"

"So, your Emolga now has a strong electrical charge on it. If Rotom were to charge its Shadow Balls with the opposite charge…"

Rotom sparked, unleashing a flurry of Shadow Balls at Emolga. The Pokémon rode the wind high into the air, swerving and diving, to no avail. The Shadow Balls were locked on and dogged it at every turn.

"Emolga, ground yourself!" Emolga flew straight towards the ground. If it reached the ground, it could dissipate its charge…

Emolga landed, but three Shadow Balls banked into it from all directions. Ripples of mist emanated from the impact.

"Flash! Electro Ball!"

"Shadow Ball!"

Emolga climbed upwards, hurt. Sparks erupted, creating a blinding flash.

"Doesn't matter, Emolga was polarized again from the last barrage- we still have homing." More Shadow Balls, plural, flew towards the center of the light. Rotom could create multiple projectiles, but they wouldn't be as strong as the large, singular bursts that Gengar used.

The blinding light was replaced with a misted explosion. A second light lit up above us.

"What? They should've hit!" Unfortunately for Rotom, what hit was the Electro Ball, sending the light-weight Pokémon spinning. Even as it flew across the arena, Emolga was already racing in front of it.

"Shadow Ball!" Rotom fired off two, both easily dodged by Emolga. The rodent responded with another Electro Ball from above. Rotom was blasted into the ground.

"Below!"

"Pain Split!" Morty cried in desperation. Rotom made a sucking motion, drawing in vitality from Emolga and equalizing their damage- but it didn't look that effective. Emolga had been burned the entire time, and was taking steady damage from it. An Air Slash knocked Rotom skyward.

"Ominous Wind!"

"Thunder!"

Emolga was faster. A column of lightning descended from the sky, catching Rotom dead in its center. The seared light bulb fell to the ground, as the triumphant Emolga soared up high.

"Rotom is unable to battle!"

"What a hit!"

"Wow!"

"It's like speed chess!"

"The guided Shadow Balls missed, Tom!"

"It's because, Bob, Rotom forgot to switch charges; its last attack would have changed Emolga's polarity. It needs to switch the polarity of its own attacks accordingly. Positive, negative, positive, negative, like that."

"Pokémon aren't responsible for those kinds of decisions, the trainer is. That was all on Morty."

Various crowd members, the commentators on the smart-phone, and the announcer were all abuzz. I checked the score: it was 4-4. It seemed like a lot more had happened up till now, but each side still had a majority of their team up.

"Isn't this exciting?" Whitney asked me.

"Mmm," I answered, not minding her.

"Who are you rooting for?"

"I… don't know. Neither. It's boring."

"Then why're you on the edge of your seat?"

"I am not." I tried to scoot back, discreetly. In truth, only an inch of seat had been supporting my butt.

"You're such a cute liar," Erika said, shoving me playfully.

"No!"

"Admit it, you're interested."

"In the match, not the trainers," I tried excusing myself.

"As if there's a difference."

"Only so far as it's a good match, I could care less about the trainers beyond this battle." That was an understatement. This was an intense match, very well played on both sides, at least since Electivire came out. One would be lucky enough to get this kind of action at the World Tournament. On the other hand, the trainers could go scuba diving in a volcano after this, for all I cared.

"Look, Morty's sending someone out!"

"Spiritomb."

But Spiritombs are slow!

"Tailwind!"

Just as I thought. If I were in Volkner's position, I'd keep up the Tailwind. Those Electro Balls that flying rodent flings out are highly dependant on their velocity for damage- and a faster Pokémon can launch the ball at a higher initial velocity. The way that Emolga is lapping the stadium in under two seconds right now, an Electro Ball on the stationary Spiritomb would be devastating.

"Electro Ball!"

"Destiny Bond!" Morty yelled, much louder than necessary.

"Cancel, Air Slash!"

The slight purplish glow that flashed across Spiritomb's form was the indicator of Destiny Bond activating. But I'm a little confused- If he was planning on a take-you-with-me tactic to deal with Emolga, why'd he broadcast it?

Emolga performed a super-speed flyby. The wake created a razor-thin vacuum, neatly cutting Spiritomb in half. The vaporous "face" of the Pokémon was bisected. It retreated back into its keystone.

"Um… Trainer, is your Pokémon fainted?" the judge asked Morty. Spiritomb's keystone sat perfectly still. Morty smirked, waving the judge off.

"You should've gone for the kill," he told Volkner.

Volkner seemed to understand… a moment later, I did as well. As long as Destiny Bond remained in place, it was a guaranteed mutual KO to knock it out. However, while Emolga circled, the burns from earlier were getting progressively worse. Morty could afford to wait this out.

"I'm not playing your game." Volkner said. "Retreat. Lanturn, go!"

"Lanturn?"

It's a fish Pokémon! What's it going to do, Splash? How's it supposed to move around?

Just as I thought, the water-type Lanturn flopped around uselessly.

"Magnet Rise!" The bulb on the end of the Lanturn's dorsal fin lit up. After a moment, it rose freely into the air.

"Didn't think it could do that," Morty said. I remember a local group of researchers that passed through Olivine a little while ago. They were there to study the Lanturn family, since there was a large population living just offshore. During a visit to my gym, one man saw my Magnemite float using Magnet Rise. The researcher commented that they were trying to teach the same move to Chinchous, but that it was proving difficult. I suppose they succeeded after all.

Meanwhile, back in the present:

"Heal Bell!"

"Crap- Taunt!"

Spiritomb was stuck in its keystone, the moment to unfurl gave Lanturn the time to execute the Heal Bell. Its bulb shivered; a clear, almost melodic bell sounded out. Soft mist wrapped itself around Lanturn, then travelled  over to Volkner and his pokeballs. There goes Emolga's burn.

"Wait, Toxic Lanturn instead!" Morty ordered.

"Counter it!"

I thought he meant a literal Counter attack, which confused me, but instead both Pokémon hurled poisonous sludge towards each other.

"Heal Bell!"

"Now Taunt!"

"Spiriblawawawawawa!" Spiritomb's vapor shape-shifted, forming into a grotesque depiction of Lanturn. Lanturn was attempting to heal itself, but the Taunt caught its attention. It turned on the Spiritomb, lighting it up with a Thunderbolt. Spiritomb retreated into its keystone, popped out to antagonize Lanturn again, then retreated again to withstand the incoming Hydro Pump.

Taunt seems to work on Pokémon more often than not. I've tried teaching my Magneton to ignore it, to no avail. I wonder if it's something in Pokémon psychology which the opposing Pokémon exploits, or if it's a kind of psychic manipulation?

It was working all too well here.

"Argh! Hydro Pump only!" Volkner implored. True, as long as Lanturn was going to attack indiscriminately, it might as well use the more dangerous attack. Spiritomb couldn't afford the water dissipating the vapors that made up its body, so it remained stuck in its shell.

"Lanturn looks exhausted!"

"It's not built as a power-hitter, but it's been using Hydro Pump many times in a row. It'll tire out fast doing that."

"Not to mention the Toxic building up in its system."

"I bet Volkner is hoping Lanturn will calm down in time to use another Heal Bell."

"Retreat. Emolga!"

"There it goes! He'll force to it to calm down by recalling it! Smart move."

"Destiny Bond!" Morty called.

"You can't afford to sit around this time."

Morty's face contorted. The Toxic was working slower than it had for Lanturn, but it was getting there. Spiritomb's face sagged as proof.

"What are you going to do, Morty?" I whispered. The crowd was excited, but less so than me. My heart was pounding and my hands gripped the seat edge to keep from trembling. This battle had me riveted. The people in the stands… they're clapping and hooting, but aren't roaring as much. They don't understand; they don't enjoy defensive wars as much as I do. Besides, this was turning into a very strategic defensive battle, precisely the kind I aspire to perfect.

Erika kept glancing over to me. She was looking for some hint as to who I supported. It was difficult, concealing my little jumps when Morty scored a hit, and even harder to keep from wincing when his Pokémon took a blow.

"Yahoo, kick his butt Morty!" Whitney, much less ashamed to throw her support in for the man who had tried to extract sex from her.

"Electro Ball!"

Is Volkner going for the sure KO? Is he ignoring the Destiny Bond?

ZZZT! BWOOOSH!

The Electro Ball blasted the ground an inch to the side of the keystone.

"Missed!" Morty taunted. The oaf should shut up, it was a deliberate miss, Emolga is trying to provoke Spiritomb. Why should he have to do that? It's already fainting from the Toxic…

"Missed again!" A second Electro Ball seared the dirt.

"Electro Ball."

"Confuse Ray!" A beam of light shined outward from the keystone. Emolga was caught in the beam just as it hurled an Electro Ball. Morty had used the first two misses to calculate its attack pattern, and timed the Confuse Ray accordingly. The fact that Spiritomb didn't need to come out of the keystone to use Confuse Ray caught Volkner off guard.

The result? The Electro Ball veered slightly off course; instead of missing, it glanced Spiritomb's keystone.

A sharp crack sounded out. There was a momentary flash, and a thin, almost invisible beam connected Emolga and Spiritomb. Emolga froze up, crashing into the ground. Spiritomb's keystone stood still, with no energy or any other signs of activity.

The judge eyed both Pokémon carefully.

"Both Emolga and Spiritomb are unable to battle. Contestants, send out new Pokémon."

"You're way too hasty, Volkner. You could've stalled there."

"Not my style. Besides, it was toting a Leichi Berry and Sucker Punch. Couldn't let that set up."

"Now how'd you figure that out?"

"Watched your battle against Lt. Surge."

"You what? You were supposed to be on your own prelim."

"I used Zapdos to finish it quickly. Really wanted to know how you'd counter an Electric type, if we ended up facing each other down. And, here we are."

"Heh." Morty half-smiled.

"Well, who's out next?"

"Why don't we throw same time, surprise everyone?"

"Good idea!" They readied their pokeballs.

"Dusknoir!"

"Electivire!"

"Kkk! We were supposed to bring out someone new, douche!" Morty raged (feigningly- he never seriously loses his temper).

"Why should I do that? I thought I'd just scout your team, keep my ace hidden till he's needed. Your last poke is Gengar, of course, but who'd take over from Drifblim? I knew you changed out the balloon after the prelims, too weak to electricity. You were scared you'd meet me, weren't you?"

"Will-o-Wisp!"

"Luxray!" Volkner barely switched in time. Morty had tried to use Volkner's monologue to catch him off guard. For the second time, Electivire was saved from burning.

"Luxray huh. Damn it, Guts isn’t it?"

"You got it. Wild Charge!"

Dusknoir was pretty well off, as far as defenses went, but it had given a free attack boost to Luxray. The lightning lion charged at full speed. The pair collided, Dusknoir vainly trying to block. It was sent back five yards, then lifted its attacker and heaved it across the field. Luxray turned around and charged again.

"Kkk, Shadow Sneak!" Dusknoir's shadow convoluted, warping into multiple twisted arms that lunged after Luxray. Luxray nimbly dodged, weaving in, out, in, out, bolting forward suddenly to gain ground, then being forced off by the density of shadowy scythes.

"Crunch!" Luxray found its opening, darted in on Dusknoir's flank, then bit into it viciously. Dusknoir fell.

"Dusknoir doesn't appear to be as strong as the rest of Morty's team."

"That's hard to judge. A Guts boosted Luxray is quite powerful. It may have simply overwhelmed it."

"My guess is that Dusknoir is new to Morty's team. Duskulls aren't native to the Johto region, so I think this Pokémon was acquired during Morty's trip to Hoenn last year."

"You remember that?"

"Right, he put a good showing at the Lilycove Ultra-rank Smart Contest."

"I remember that," said Whitney, nodding in agreement. The TV drones recapped Morty's loss in the semifinals of the contest. Whitney and Erika followed along avidly; I didn't. Contests aren't my gig.

"Recall, Luxray." Volkner ordered his Pokémon back before Morty even had a chance to call out a new fighter.

"Hey, wait, Dusknoir's not done yet!" Indeed, Dusknoir was slowly picking itself up.

"I can fix that," Volkner said calmly. Lanturn appeared, and gave one quick Thunderbolt, finishing the greatly weakened Dusknoir off for good.

I tried thinking back. Gengar should be Morty's last healthy Pokémon. Volkner had Lanturn, Electivire, and Luxray, all were in good condition. This battle was now one-sided.

Morty, you promised me you'd show me something amazing. If that was supposed to be a good match, congratulations, I'm impressed. I would have been satisfied just with Electivire pulling the surprise Vital Spirit/Cross Chop and taking down Darkrai. But no, it's been a good, close match throughout. Now you're down in a hole, and I can't help but feel you don't consider your promise fulfilled yet. So, prove me wrong. My expectations are rock-bottom, it shouldn't be hard. Show me what you can do!

"Gengar!" Morty finally brought out his team leader.

"Gengar!!!" Ugh. "Gengah! Hasu haunta haunta haunta!"

The Pokemon spotted me sitting on the sideline. His tongue stuck out and mimicked his old evolution's cry. Obviously taunting me, bringing back many grotesque memories from middle school. I stuck my tongue out at him in response.

I've changed my mind. Beat that sick pervo Pokémon to dust, Volksy!

"So are we going to do this?" Volkner showed signs of impatience. Funny, he was so timid when he was talking to me. It's like there's a completely different personality to him during battles.

"Gengar, pay attention! We're in a clutch and I really need your all this time."

"Gar!"

Trainer and Ghost Pokémon faced their opponent with determination.

"Heal Bell!"

"Confuse Ray!"

Gengar lit Lanturn up. Despite its confusion, its bulb rang out true. The signs of Toxic disappeared, and assumedly, Luxray's burn as well.

"Shadow-five."

"Thunder Wave!"

Gengar dove into the ground. The Thunder Wave swept through the field, failing to hit its target.

"Forward!"

Lanturn levitated through the air to new a position. Gengar popped out of the ground that Lanturn had been floating over a moment before. It had a Shadow Ball in hand, which it launched at the retreating opponent.

Lanturn turned, its bulb shined, and a luminescent shield appeared before it. The Shadow Ball fizzled through, grazing the Lanturn, but not badly. Lanturn's bulb shook, and a small tidbit dropped into its mouth. It happily munched on the snack, head-bopping side to side as it did so. The bruise mark from the last attack disappeared.

Gengar fell back into the ground.

"Cold Surf!"

"Curse."

Surf. There's a rare move. I've only seen it used effectively out of water a few times before- but when it is…

Lanturn poured an incredible amount of water out of its mouth. More than could be explained by human physics, but to a Pokémon, creating excess elemental water was possible, if difficult. The arena was soon verging on becoming a swamp, and the shallow crater Lanturn was blasting around itself a swimming pool.

"What's it doing?" Whitney asked.

"I'm not sure," Erika said.

"This is how water types compete effectively on dry land- they get rid of the dry land," I explained. While Lanturn was busy trying to flood the arena, Gengar popped up at the far corner of the battlefield. He made a strange sign with his claws, then materialized a shadow-bound needle. He presented this needle to his abdomen, visibly paining himself.

At that exact moment, Lanturn flinched.

"Gengar, up high, don't hide in the ground!"

"Thunderbolt!"

Lanturn let loose several Thunderbolts at the retreating Gengar. Gengar was fast, but lightning is a tad bit faster, and Lanturn had fairly good aim. The ghost was hit several times over. He was taking on damage and wouldn't be able to sustain too many more-

"Not yet, you bastard!" I whispered. Come all this way, strut your stuff and then back it up with tactics I've never dreamed of, and you dare end it by taking a few measly Thunderbolts from a weakling like Lanturn?!

Lanturn flinched, the Curse taking effect. The pause gave Gengar an opening, not enough to counter attack, but at least enough to hide back inside the earth.

But… Lanturn continued to flood the place. And it wasn't just to create a swimming environment for itself. I hope Morty realizes the danger Gengar's in…

"Phase two!"

Lanturn cried out, building its power.

From its bulb crackling beams burst forth, targeting the terrain in every direction. Wherever the beams touched, the water froze. Ice Beams- Just as I had guessed when I heard the term "Cold Surf."

"Gengar get out!"

"Stop!" I cried aloud. My shout was completely lost in the roar of the crowd. But, whether by intuition, or his sixth sense, Morty turned to see me explode. He put a hand to his ear, showing me he was paying attention but couldn't hear. I waved at him to stop.

Too late. Gengar knew enough on his own that Lanturn's combo would reach him through the groundwater, that he would freeze if he stayed underground. The ghost popped out into the open.

Just like Volkner wanted.

"Thunder Wave!"

Gengar was halfway out of the ground, slipping through the shallow pool of water. The liquid conducted the electricity faster than the air, nailing Gengar in less than the blink of an eye. Paralysis gripped his body. It was so powerful and so sudden that Gengar locked up completely; his levitation failed and he fell into the water, stiff as a brick.

"Alright, Surf!"

Morty turned to me. I was waving frantically, warning him, berating him as best I could from 50 yards away. He put up his hands defensively, I shouted and waved my fist at him. He looked helpless. And even if he couldn't hear me, I can hear him just fine. They give the contestants a mike for a reason! Speak up!

Morty shrugged, refusing to ask what I was doing, refusing to look at the battlefield, as if he was giving up.

But then, his demeanor relaxed, made a gat-gun hand single, and pointed it at me. As if to say "Just kidding. I got this."

Lanturn gathered the whole of its artificial pond together, racing towards Gengar with all the fury of a tsunami.

"Gengar."

Lanturn was on top of it, but at that precise moment, Curse kicked in and the big fish winced. The water crashed down, blurring all view of the fighting.

"Where's Gengar?"

He was nowhere to be seen. Volkner, and pretty much the entire stadium, were left scratching their head.

"Lanturn, freeze the ground again, start with your shadow!" Lanturn proceeded to turn the entire arena into an ice rink. Yet, no matter what it turned to ice, there was no reaction. For good measure, it blasted its own shadow several times, both with water, ice, and electricity. Nothing.

"Trainer," the judge said, addressing Morty. "You're aware your Pokémon cannot leave the arena."

"I'm aware."

"That includes more than 20 yards underground, 100 yards above ground, places such as the stadium structure, light fixtures, screens, the crowd."

"Right."

"Your shadow as well. And your opponent's shadow. Off limits."

"We're good." The judge stepped back, frustrated.

Lanturn continued to tire itself out and take periodic ticks from the Curse. When it became apparent Gengar was not resurfacing, Volkner ordered it to Rest. The Sinnoh gym leader readied his pokeball immediately, expecting Gengar to strike while Lanturn was asleep. Nothing happened.

"Why would I do something like that? Lanturn has Sleep Talk, doesn't it?" Morty said.

"Tell Gengar to come out already. I can stall this out if I have to," Volkner threatened. Morty shrugged. "Seriously, it's killing the tempo."

Lanturn shook off its Rest-induced sleep, but lacking an opponent, floated aimlessly.

"So that's it, huh."

The judge approached Morty again.

"Hey, mister, if Gengar doesn't appear soon, I'm going to assume it's exited the arena and it'll be disqualified."

"Oh don't do that."

"I will if I have to. Just bring it out for a moment to confirm it's here."

Morty shook his head.

"Please! He's still in the arena, I promise."

"Thunder!"

"Lanlan?" Lanturn turned to its owner, apparently asking for more specific directions.

"Thunder the whole field!"

Oh, so Volkner thinks Gengar turned invisible, based on Morty's conversation with the judge. Lanturn proceeded to grant us a spectacular light show. The columns of lightning rang against the air, growing so intense that some hats and beverages were blown away from their owners.

Yet, when the artificial thunderstorm faded, no Gengar appeared. Lanturn flinched again, the  Curse doing its job.

"Damn it Morty stop being a stall-hack! Lanturn, Rest!"

"Finally!" As Lanturn went to sleep, Morty shouted out his order. "Nightmare!" If Curse was causing Lanturn to flinch, Nightmare instantly brought it to wild, uncontrolled spasms. Its Magnet Rise gave out, and the fish flopped to the soggy dirt.

"Where'd that come from?"

"Not even a clue."

"Is this some kind of trick?"

"Recall, Lanturn!" The Rest had completely backfired. On Whitney's smart-phone, the program showed a stats screen. One corner displayed the estimated health remaining of the battling Pokémon- 4 blanks for Morty, 3 for Volkner, and the rest various shades of the rainbow. Lanturn's was a pixel-wide sliver of red. It barely made it back to its digitized shelter before fainting.

Volkner took his pokeball, pounding the fist of his other hand into the ground.

"Gengar, say hi to Volkner." Gengar appeared.

Right in front of Volkner.

Or more accurately, it "grew" out of Lanturn's pokeball.

"Gengaaaahwhwhwhahaha!" Volkner reacted as boys do, by instinctively punching the offender in the face. His fist went right through the incorporeal Pokémon.

"Where'd you come from? Don't tell me- no way."

"Gengar was hiding inside Lanturn the entire time."

"Impossible."

"Very possible, Gengars can shape-shift."

"And the paralysis?"

"The thing that left the ground? Substitute. A fake."

Bastard! That's what Volkner was clearly mouthing.

For myself- Bastard! Magnificent bastard! I thought this to myself. I was past brimming on my seat, I was up and hopping on my toes.

This! This was the kind of battle that reached into my heart. This was just like that time I saw my first battle with…. It was exciting, the Pokémon were powerful , the trainers were brilliant!

I looked at Volkner. He still had the upper hand.

I looked at Morty. He was the underdog at the moment, but gaining momentum.

Who did I want to win?

Call me a hypocrite, call me tsundere, say I got caught up in the moment, or that I was cheering for the underdog, or the one with the cooler tricks, or the prettier face- but I was cheering for my childhood friend, the friend who had done nothing but cause trouble for me. I wanted someone I knew to win. For a moment, for this one battle, I can forget all the bad history, right? 

"Kkk. No choice then. Electivire!"

"Electivire's back."

The battle continued.

"Duck-"

"Like hell you're playing hide and seek again. Shock Wave!" The attack blinked through the air, instantly. Rather, it filled the entire space between Electivire and Gengar, all points simultaneously. An unavoidable attack. Gengar was hit, slightly hurt.

"It'll hit, but I don't think that kind of attack will slow Gengar down."

"Right, and as Volkner demonstrated, Electivire is more adept at physical combat, not these long-range pure elemental electric attacks."

Gengar shrugged off the damage and dove into the ground.

"No way you're getting away."

Rotom. The Pokémon's image popped into my mind. Damn, that was it, Volkner's a fast learner.

"Dig!" Electivire stood still for a moment, closing its eyes. It suddenly leapt into the air, cracking the surface of the ground at a spot 10 yards away. A surprised Gengar flew out of the hole, helped along by a Thunder Punch.

"So, you used the Shock Wave to put an electrical charge on Gengar? Copy-cat."

"I've done your trick one better. Electivire can use the nodes of its antennae to sense every electromagnetic field within a fifty yard radius. There's no way you can hide!"

"Gengar!" Gengar regained its posture. However, Electivire was hot on his tail. He was forced to take refuge into the air, but got a Thunderbolt for his efforts.

"Shadow Ball!" Gengar's altitude kept him safe from Electivire's punches, but also gave the latter room to dodge Shadow Balls. It dodged four, and used Thunderbolt to intercept two more. Gengar looked tired and strained.

He can't keep this up. Think of something!

"Curse? Gengar can't afford to take the kickback again. Confuse Ray?" That's what Morty tried next. Electivire was duly hit.

"Crap!" Because, in its confusion, Electivire decided it was a great idea to call down a Thunder. Gengar dodged easily, but the column crashed into Electivire, activating Motor Drive. As soon as it regained its senses, it vanished in a sizzling zap.

"Your back!"

Electivire used its speed boost to jump high into the air, bringing down a Hammer-Arm Thunder Punch combo that pounded Gengar into the ground.

"Sub!"

Electivire practically teleported, crushing the fake Gengar beneath its fist. It instantly broke apart. The decoy was not enough to slow it down for even one second. A small crater appeared in the mud, where the Electric Pokémon launched off towards the retreating Gengar. Gengar threw up several Shadow Balls. Electivire punched them out of existence. It blew in, throwing jabs left and right. Never minding the fists themselves would just phase through Gengar, the lightning coursing through said fists would cause an impact.

"Shockwave!" A flash, and Gengar was hit.

"Icy Wind!"

"Shockwave!"

Two waves raced towards each other. The Electric one was instantaneous, cutting through the slower Ice one and hitting Gengar. The icy sheen wasn't disrupted completely though, and managed to hit Electivire. It tried to close in on Gengar; the frost from Icy Wind clung to its legs and slowed it down by a crucial amount, allowing Gengar to get just out of range.

"Shockwave, again!"

"Confuse Ray!"

"Thunderbolt!"

Shockwave hit, Confuse Ray and Thunderbolt collided and cancelled each other out. Electivire burrowed into the ground, Gengar Icy Winded the surface beneath it, but had to dodge a Thunder called in from underground. The ice shattered, and out of the shards came a Thunder Punch. Gengar used Disable to seal off Electivire's Thunder and a phantasmal Substitute to block the Thunder Punch.

"Just Shockwave again!" Electivire did so, zapping Gengar for minor damage.

What's the point of using Shockwave? Gengar was already polarized enough for tracking purposes. Was it to strengthen the charge for a Thunder? But Thunder was just disabled! Wait… if my hunch was right…

"Shadow Ball!"

"Zap Cannon."

ZZZZZZZZ!!!

"ORRAAOUUU!" Electivire roared, collecting all of its energy. Pure bits of energy floated off, vaporizing into sparks, increasing the power and voltage surrounding Electivire. It held its hands out, parallel to each other, aiming directly at Gengar. Gengar attempted to strafe around, but Electivire adjusted with lightning-quick, minute adjustments.

"Delay, Shadow Ball- oh sh-"

Electivire fired. The concentrated ball of lightning, intense as a miniature sun, flew off Electivire's arms like a railgun.

"Dodge, underground!"

Pointless. Gengar tried to phase into the ground.

"Gengar has to become incorporeal to go underground, and in that case, it can’t discharge the huge electrical charge Electivire's built into it with all the Shockwaves." Explanation courtesy of Volkner, grinning. He watched with quiet glee as Gengar raced in and out of the ground, round the arena, and into the sky. The Zap Cannon projectile was slow, but relentless, and was closing the distance little by little.

"Crap! Uh- reverse-two!"

"Electivire, catch him!"

"Unreverse! Prep Shadow Claw!

It happened so fast, I had to rewatch later in slow-mo to see it all.

Electivire sprinted in front of Gengar, aiming a Thunder Punch. A Shadow Ball appeared, unfurled sometime earlier. It blew up in Electivire's face. Gengar used the opportunity to fly by, putting Electivire in the Zap Cannon's path. Electivire recovered, caught the lightning projectile between its hands, pivoted on its foot and rail-gunned it directly into a downward-slashing Gengar.

The arena lit up. The crack of electricity splintered against the force fields. The area of impact was encased in a surreal glow.

"No nap time!" Morty yelled. Was that a command or an imploration?

"It's over."

Volkner appeared triumphant.

"Gengar is… able to battle!" cried the judge.

I wanted to cry, or laugh. Gengar balanced on one foot, like a statue. Even though it survived the powerful blast, it was now paralyzed. Not the weak, inhibiting paralysis that happened to Lucario earlier today. This was a full-body lockup. Gengar shivered, very slightly, obviously fighting to move even a small inch. He couldn't. Electivire was guaranteed at least one free attack. That was all it needed.

"Thunder Cross Chop."

Oh god. Zap Cannon couldn't finish Gengar because Electivire was a brawler, not a sniper. This, on the other hand, was going to…

I closed my eyes.

"Is there anything Gengar can do in this situation?"

Electivire kicked the statue-miming Gengar over. Its fists coursed with electricity, building to a level equal to its Zap Cannon's. It raised them together, high over its head.

Morty's eyes, darting from Volkner to Electivire, back and forth, back and forth, struggling to figure something out.

"Hypnosis!"

NO!

"Vital Spirit you dimwit!" I yelled, as loud as I could.

Gengar's eyes lit up.

Electivire's hands fell down-

…

And dug into the dirt either side of Gengar's head. The electricity dissipated into the ground. Electivire slunk into Gengar's body, snoozing.

Morty jumped, fist-pumping. He threw a look towards me, taking off his headband and waving it at me.

Volkner was in full face-palm mode.

"You nerdy pain-in-the-neck, you figured it out," he said aloud.

"I always do."

"What did he figure out?" Erika asked.

I wanted to know too.

How?

How'd he bypass Vital Spirit? Why is Electivire asleep?!

"Your Pokémon has an ability," Morty stated.

"Yep."

"Called Motor Drive."

"Yep."

"And that's its only ability."

"Right on the money," Volkner confirmed.

"So Vital Spirit… was a lie?!?!" I asked aloud.

This is absurd!

"How'd Electivire get out of the Dark Void?" This was my question, but many people throughout the stadium were wondering just that. The commentators on TV were just as baffled.

"What clued you in?" Volkner asked.

"Eh, first- before sleepy-head wakes up- Shadowball."

"No! No, don't. No need." Volkner recalled the sleeping Electivire to its pokeball. He addressed the judge. "I'm throwing the towel for Electivire." The judge nodded. Within a few seconds, a "TKO" symbol appeared over Electivire's status on the screen. "Now, tell me how you figured it out."

Morty held up his fist, and unfurled fingers one by one.

"One, it's impossible for a Pokémon to have two abilities at the same time. I heard in the Kalos region there's a university where they're attempting to help Pokémon switch between their natural abilities, but as far as I know, they've only managed to switch after rigorous training. Not in battle, and certainly not using two simultaneously. But, I had doubts, trust me."

"Ok."

"Two, you said you watched my earlier prelim matches. I bet you watched replays of me versus Sabrina and Maylene too. I've been pretty reliant on Darkrai's Dark Void the whole time. You would've been preparing a counter measure for the sleep effect." Volkner nodded, affirming his suspicion.

"Three, Lanturn ate something to heal itself. That was a Sitrus berry, wasn't it?"

"Yeah," Volkner said, growing unhappy, then angry. Luckily he contained it. "Go on." He's kind of scary looking when he's mad, I think.

"Conclusion- you gave Electivire a Lum Berry, to counter Dark Void. You kept dodging the Will-o-Wisps because it had already used the Lum Berry, and a burn would hamper its combat abilities too much. You fed me a lie about duel-wielding abilities, to stop me from trying to put Electivire to sleep again."

"You're too damn brainy."

I'm aghast. That was… Incredible.

"Well, whatever. I'm impressed. Seriously, I am. But, face reality, Morty. I outplayed you the other 70% of the match."

"You still think you've got what it takes?"

"Gengar's paralyzed and damaged pretty bad. Yeah, I think I do. Lanturn, go!"

Volkner let Lanturn out.

"I can take it down in one hit," Morty stated.

"Too slow. Healing Wish."

"Shadow-oh."

To watch Lanturn faint on its own, and a misty ghost of itself rise into the air, was a strange experience, like a point-specific lucid dream.

"Come back, Lanturn. Luxray." Luxray appeared. The ghost-shell of Lanturn descended, covering Luxray, enshrouding it. There was a soft flash. Luxray stood, sparks sizzling across its back. The status on the monitors showed the Electric Pokémon was at full health, perfect condition.

"You've got nothing left. A paralyzed Pokémon."

"Hey, Volkner, you know what we're playing for?" Morty asked suddenly.

"I never took your dumb bet, Morty. I don't want that freak-show."

"That's not it. What we're really playing for."

"Cash prize, bragging rights, the usual." Volkner was irritated.

Morty glanced in our direction, looked down, shook his head.

"I'm sorry. Remember the other night?"

"That one? Not really. I don't feel like revisiting it."

"Really?"

Volkner stared him down.

Morty sighed.

"Sorry, pal. Even if you don't remember, I gave you a promise. But, I'm going to have to break that promise."

What are you saying Morty? Breaking your word is nothing! Are you trying to stall him to think of a strategy? Argh! End it! Finish him or get finished! Just be over with it! I can't stand the waiting!

"Talk later. Let's finish this," Volkner said.

"Right." Morty nodded.

Each trainer stood tense.

"Thunderbolt."

"Light Screen." Gengar put up a shield, blocking the Thunderbolt. The paralysis had weakened- but not enough. Just freeing its upper limbs, Gengar was still crippled and couldn't float.

"Thunderbolt, always Thunderbolt," Morty muttered.

"Always. Unless I need to win. Luxray! Crunch!"

"Shadow Ball!"

The shadow attacks were so slow now, Luxray simply walked around them. It made its way over, wary.

"Watch for Hypnosis. Use your X-ray vision to guide you, don't look at its eyes," Volkner cautioned. Morty winced. That was his last shot. Too bad for him, but the same trick never works twice.

"Sorry. It's just a Pokémon match," Volkner said.

"No, it's not," Morty said, cryptically. His head bowed.

"Crunch." Luxray ducked in, quickly, taking Gengar by its jaws.

Morty's head shot up.

"GENGAR! EXPLOSION!"

The arena went dark. It was only a second, but the entire world went dark. Or rather, the explosion was so bright, the sun was momentarily blotted out, and all that was left was the brilliant dot where two Pokémon had been locked in combat.

Then the stadium burst.

All four walls of the force field lit up. The fire and smoke of the massive explosion shot into the air, obscuring everything. I, Erika, and Whitney covered our ears against the booming noise, echoing and re-echoing across the stadium walls.

Morty and Volkner had to duck. Even the force fields were struggling to keep all the energy contained.

When the dust finally cleared, Luxray and Gengar lay on the ground, charred and out cold.

"Medic!" the judge called immediately. White-uniformed staff raced out to the field, potion injectors in hand.

Explosion. A suicidal attack of monstrous power. I had rarely seen it, but had been warned against casual use. Even my Graveler, who could've learned it, doesn't have it. I opted for the less dangerous Self-Destruct.

"Both Pokémon are unable to battle. This match is decided."

"So you went for a draw?" Volkner muttered. He looked down, taking in the outcome. "A draw. Poor sport."

"It's not a draw." Morty raised a single pokeball.

"The match is over! Morty of Ecruteak is the winner!"

Volkner realized his mistake.

Gengar, Dusknoir, Spiritomb, Rotom, Darkrai, all KO'd.

But not Mismagius.

Red-healthed, paralyzed, but not KO'd, she had sat out practically the entire fight after the briefest of appearances. She had not succeeded in landing a single attack. But, she had not fainted. And that was all that was needed.

Morty released Mismagius, who appeared faint and woozy. Her eyes found the scoreboard, and for all her injuries, she lit up. Morty ran over and grabbed her, hugging her tight. Then he hugged Whitney, who had leapt off the bench the moment his victory was announced. Then several other fans, who had jumped down from the stands. They shouldered him, and carried him off to the field. The 20,000 occupants of the stadium went overboard, reducing all hearing to nil before their deafening accolades.

Morty and company took a lap around the arena, waving and blowing kisses, before heading to the exit.

I watched them go by. I was smiling.

Morty was my nemesis, and yet, I was glad for him. He had started off feeling invincible. But, remembering what he had told me before the match, it seemed like he expected Volkner to overcome the monstrosity that was Darkrai. Morty was then pushed into a corner, facing adversity like nothing I'd ever seen before. He had used his guile and trust in his Pokémon to complete a comeback victory for the ages.

This was a strange feeling. Upon reflection, it was an awful feeling. I don't want to cheer for him, I don't want to have positive feelings for him. I'll get caught in a trap and before I know it I might actually consider him my friend. And then he'll backstab me. He'll let me down, he'll hurt me. He ALWAYS does. Every time.

I scrunched my eyes, trying to purge these feelings from my heart and mind. I exhaled, deep and slow.

It's no use.

I saw him exit the arena atop the shoulders of his fans, laughing and roaring with them. As he disappeared under the arch, he held his hand aloft, a victory fist. And, from the way he lifted it, the slight angle to it… No, there was no doubt. That signal was for me.

My body, wound tight, tense as a coil, finally relaxed.

I breathed.

…

Yes, Morty, I will admit. That was amazing.

Chapter Text

"Would you like to go congratulate him?" Erika asked.

"I'll pass," I said, with a sly smile. She responded in kind.

I know what you're thinking, Erika. "Oh look, she's impressed, she's vulnerable- aim for the weak spot and strike!" I may be impressed with him, but you can take your little romantic machinations and shove it. This does not mean I will be friends with him, much less his lover.

"Well, bye!" I said.

"Wait! Do you have to leave? I wish you would stay for the last match."

"I really have to, Amphy needs food. He gets grumpy if he doesn't eat before nightfall."

"Ah, well… There is an after-summit party tonight, would you be able to come then?"

"Eh. I'll think about it."

Hmm, do I want to go to this party? Considering how the gala went…. Mmm… No.

Proposition duly thought about and rejected. See? I'm a woman of my word!

  "Oh." Erika looked disappointed. "Well, if you must leave, may I walk you out? There are one or two things I'd like to discuss before you go."

"Alright." If she dares brings up a conversation containing the words "Morty", "Romance", "Love", or "Sex", I will Extreme Speed out of there so fast, she'll be coughing up dust for a week. We began strolling out of the stadium enclosure side-by-side.

"So, I'll be going back to Celadon tomorrow evening," she said. I nodded, expecting this.

"However… I'll be back in a week."

"What for?" I asked, curious.

"I'm taking an extended leave of absence. Things have not been going well, exactly, so I will be leaving the gym for a while."

"You're quitting? Is something the matter?"

"No, not quitting. Not permanently. I'm simply taking a long break. One of my protégés will become the acting gym leader while I'm gone."

"Why?"

"I can't say."

"Whhhyyyyy???" I asked, adopting Whitney's whiny voice for when she's not getting her way. Erika giggled.

"Let's just say the politics around Celadon are not friendly. Hmmm... you could say there's an unhappy lame duck in office, and they're using their residual powers to settle a personal vendetta. I've gotten caught in the middle. I think it's best for the gym if I hid out of town until the new officer is sworn in."

"Sounds dicey. Are you sure everything will be okay?"

"Don't worry, it will be alright. Besides, it's become quite a robotic existence there, I am absolutely yearning for a change of pace. So, to my point- I'll be staying in Olivine until January or February."

"Really?!"

Thank you corrupt politicians! For your ethical failings, I get to see my bestie on a daily basis for five straight months! Squeeee!

Of course I suppressed my inner elation, and presented only a smile and laughter for my friend.

The rest of the walk was filled with delightful chatting: Intricate plans for what we planned to do over the autumn, where Erika could find a nice rental home, and how I would finally have the chance to play tour guide to my home city.

"It'll be like the summer I stayed over at your place," I said excitedly.

"Much longer, actually."

"They have a casual tennis league, we could join as a team."

"Sounds splendid."

"Are you set for cash? Will they pay you while you're on leave?"

"Only for the first month. But don't worry, I have plenty saved."

"That's right, your flower business." In addition to the gym, Erika ran a nationally renowned flower and fragrance business.

"Yes. I think I might open a branch here in Olivine- the climate is perfect for growing chrysanthemums."

A minute spent discussing flower arrangement later, we arrived at the exit.

"Well, this is it," I said.

"One more minute. Jasmine," Erika said. Uh-oh. She has a serious face on. "I'm worried for you."

"About me and boys?"

"Well that too."

We hung still, letting an awkward moment pass in silence.

"I don't mind talking about it, but maybe when we have more time," I said.

"Well, I appreciate it. But, what I was more concerned about, is your probation."

Who told you about that?!

"Yes?"

"I just want to say, you have my… and Whitney's, and Lyra's, full support. We'll be there for you the whole way. And I have ideas for how to help you through it, too."

"Th-thank you!"

I embraced Erika.

"I'll call again later tonight, in case you'd like to go to the party," she said. Fat chance, but I nodded to her. "Or if you'd rather, I could come over. My plane is not till late, we could have that chat." I shrugged.

"See you soon," I said, she said her goodbye, I turned and left, and that was that.

The moment of truth was drawing closer, I sensed. What was I going to tell her? The actual truth? The half-truth that I had been feeding society these many years? A completely new lie, to throw her off track?

As much as I wanted to find and decide upon a rational course of action that most benefitted me- the one thing that felt like the worst solution was the thing I wanted to do most.

Run away.

Avoid the issue.

Bury it like the wretched, fetid corpse of a memory it is.

Rationally, it was the worst thing to do. Emotionally, it was my only option. All the frank discussion and intellectual persuasion would not get me to unearth it. The only thing that could bring it out was an equally strong, opposite force, of the same kind as it- an emotional force.

 I pulled out my phone. 5:08. I was at the steps to my apartment, and it would take another fifteen minutes to get to the lighthouse, if I hurried. That should be just enough time to get there and let Amphy eat before he goes on duty. Apparently, if he has to eat while he's luminescing, it causes stomach irritation, and he becomes a pain to deal with. While I care for Amphy because he's my Pokémon and I love him, I am also officially responsible for caring for him, to ensure he keeps Olivine Bay properly lit. We haven't had a shipwreck here in twenty years, almost, but the possibility always weighs on the back of my mind.

 "Food… food… food… where are… ah." I found them sitting at the bottom of my pantry, under a pile of grocery bags. They were single-serving packets of food, both dry and wet, in a variety of flavors. Amphy liked the wet food, and usually had me microwave it for him.

"Oh please don't." I looked outside, at the sky. It was beginning to cloud over, and I was afraid it would rain.

"Weather?" I wish I had a TV. I opened my little netbook, each second taking away precious walking time.

"10% chance for rain. Ew." Cloudy Castforms littered the Johto region board. If not tonight, it was definitely slated to rain for the rest of the week.

I dashed off.

The lighthouse came into view at 5:36. Running most of the way had put me out of breath, forcing me to use the elevator.

Ding!

I nearly dashed out, heading straight for the stairs to the second landing.

"Aiiieee?!?!" I tip-toed to a startled halt, catching something in the corner of my eye.

"AIEIEIIEIE??!!! What are you doing in bed!" I stomped my way over to the delinquent Pokémon. "C'mon, you've barely enough time to chow, then it's off to work!" I nudged the slumbering form with my toe. There was no response.

"Hey, wake up!" I nudged him more forcefully. Amphy tucked himself into a tighter ball. Why you little!

"C'mon, wake up! I've got food and you've got a job to do!" After a few embattled minutes of provocations, Amphy was no more awake than when I arrived. I picked him up, body and all, and sat him upright. He tried to wrap himself into his blanket.

"Unt-uh." I ripped the wooly refuge away.

Amphy stared at me with eyes full of resentment.

I quickly left to microwave a packet. Upon returning, Amphy was stuck in a ball, blanket woven around itself.

"Hey, I've got dinner. What are you doing?!"

I dug in, struggling to untuck the Pokémon. "People don't battle Pokémon, Pokémon battle Pokémon! Amphy stop this, or I'll bring Steelix out." I wasn't even certain Steelix could safely fit inside the room.

"Phooo."

"Are you sick?" I put my hand to his head, then stomach. After a silly game of cat and mouse, I managed to grab a hold of his tail bulb. The one sure way to tell if an Ampharos is sick is to inspect its bulb. The cellular photobodies that produce light and electricity inside of the bulb are produced by an organ interconnected with the lungs. They're unusually susceptible to infection because of this proximity. If the bulb appears cloudy or darker than usual, it is a sign of sickness.

Amphy's bulb was dull, but free of impurities. That means a low photobody count- possibly caused by a rare disease or severe depression, but the most common cause would be excessive sleeping. I wonder which one it was…

"Chow down this instant! There are fishing boats and passenger liners and tankers out there relying on you! Don't let them down!"

Amphy reluctantly ate his food.

"And no more sleeping in! It's not like you don't get to lay down and powernap through your job too! If I could sleepwalk through my battles, you think I would be on probation?"

Amphy slurped down the last morsel.

"Here." While he had eaten, I had prepped instant hot tea. Amphy slowly lapped this up.

I didn't trust him to not go back to bed, so I followed him upstairs and saw to it that he lighted up. The usual dance of machinery ensued and a beam of illumination pierced the night air.

"Thank you."

"Ampha."

I sat down in the door, back to the frame and head facing away from the blinding light.

"What's the matter with you? You've been stubborn lately."

"Ampharos!"

"I missed a good matchup to get you dinner, and you're sleeping! How do you think that makes me feel?"

"Amphoo…" which sounded like "sowwy…" to me.

"Whatever. I had a long day. I can't believe it, I didn't even really do anything. But, a lot happened."

Quite a lot. My head was flush with the events of the day. Too much had happened, I couldn't process it all at once. Singing before a national audience was a first, and hopefully, singular experience. Whitney's rivalry with Maylene rose to new heights, and I finally found out the root cause of it. Many great Pokémon battles had been fought. Coming to watch them had proved valuable, despite the headaches involved. I felt inspired to become a better competitor, and had gotten some ideas on how to do that. Between my new ideas, and Erika's reassurances, I felt a lot more confident going into probation than when I lost to Lance.

Maylene and Sabrina showed me how useful diversifying one's types a little could be. Until today, I had stubbornly clung to the belief that specializing in one type made one better, because of familiarity. As the old kung-fu master said: "I do not fear the man who practices 1000 punches once each. I fear the man who has practiced one punch 1000 times." Turns out, the best solution is to practice one punch 900 times, and two other punches 50 times each. In other words, I need new Pokémon, non-steel types… On second thought, I could use more steel types too. Steelix was the only Pokémon who carried his weight on my team.

From a spectators' standpoint, the battles themselves were spectacular. If I hadn't been personally attached, Whitney and Maylene's would have been downright funny. What little I caught of the other battles on the video replays were pretty cool too: I especially liked this trick Candice's Froslass pulled with Barrier and Mirror Coat. Sabrina, and especially Volkner, had fought with skill and determination; they and their Pokémon never gave up.

And then… there was Morty.

Morty, Morty, Morty.

What am I supposed to do with this idiot? How am I supposed to feel towards him?

Three years of absence from my life hadn't softened any of the ill will I held towards him. Three days of interactions had turned my entire opinion of him topsy-turvy.

He was a better trainer than I remember. I always knew he was clever. On the other hand, I always believed he was too lazy, too lacking in discipline to train his Pokémon properly. The same way he sidled out of doing homework or going to P.E. classes, I was under the impression he habitually skimped out on training, leveling, and organizing his team. Even if he was smart enough to win, his Pokémon would never have the discipline or capability to carry out his schemes in the middle of battle. I was wrong- oh so very wrong. By some miracle, he had buttoned down and put in the effort to make them strong.

The result? A trainer who I believed was on par with Red, the world champion.

I could no longer deny his prowess on the field.

His character, though? Could I trust him to have changed in that department too? It seemed impossible to me.

Was this time going to be different? Does the fact that he disciplined himself and changed his old lackadaisical trainer habits also indicate he's changed his lousy treatment of others? His actions these past three days indicate otherwise. He treated me like a child and belittled my virgin status; he pissed off his closest friend and beat him in a nationally-televised Pokémon battle; tried wagering to get my friend in bed with him; successfully played two other women into his bed; and acted like a wise-ass the whole way through.

Even now, he's probably lounging at the party, basking in victory, forcing Sabrina or Maylene or both to hang off his arm, eagerly waiting for later tonight when he could ravish them.

If he weren't so good looking and suave acting, he'd be recognized for the creep that he really is.

He wants to impress me? Ha! He's going to have to do more than "change". He needs to have a damn good reason for these actions of his, and apologize for them. Maybe then, I can forgive him. Maybe then we can progress from "mortal antagonists" to "friendly acquaintances".

"Blah!" I yelled out loud in frustration.

What's the point?

I've been here before. I trusted him; I gave him a chance to show me he was a nice person, and he messed up.

No, that's putting it too kindly. He betrayed me.

These thoughts poured through my head as I slowly made my way down the lighthouse stairwell. Each and every mark against his moral character surfaced and played over and over in my head. No matter what I did I could not rid myself of the thought of him.

'He likes you'. Whitney's words. They clung to my conscience like a Remoraid. I can't escape those words. Was it even possible, for all the crap, for my incessant self-denials, for my endless list of grievances, that I liked him too? Impossible! I am me, these are my most personal, inner-most thoughts, and in this deep refuge of the mind, I still harbor enmity towards that individual. I will never allow him the pleasure of my body!!! Simple as that!

…

Then why can't I stop thinking about him?!

Just as I was saying, "Damn you Morty, why you?! Why me?!" I reached the bottom, and my phone rang.

"Hello Morty," I answered. Loud dubstep music was playing in the background, drumming my ears and making it difficult to hear the caller.

"Jasmine? It's me, Erika."

"Who?"

"Erika!"

"Erika?"

"Yes, me."

"Oh…"

"Were you expecting Morty to call?"

"…"

"Anyways, I was wondering if you were going to come to the party." Just over the phone the dubstep was getting to me. I hate music like that- not necessarily the genre, but when they turn the subwoofers so low that you feel it in your chest, not through your ears- that grinds on me in the most unpleasant way.

"I'm pretty tired, and feeling faint. I don't think I can make it."

"I see," Erika said, clearly disappointed.

"How's Whitney? Is she there?"

"Oh, Whitney. I wish you were here to see it. She and Maylene are drunk- very drunk. Brawly is here too, and they're fighting over him. They're so tipsy, though… It's quite a sight."

"Did you say Maylene is there?"

"Yes, she's here."

Looks like Sabrina got first and sole dibs tonight.

"So is Whitney fighting with her?"

"It's not fighting, so much as… flirting, let's say, with Brawly."

"Flirting, as in…"

"I don't think you would like the details. At least they're not nude."

"Too much info."

"Thought so."

Too much info indeed; my imagination started off on its own. Images of nibbling and petting came to mind. I squashed the imagery by picturing Muks playing in sewage.

"And what about Lyra?"

"She's playing drinking games with Ethan, Lizzy, Jeff, and a red haired guy, I forget his name. He seemed like an old acquaintance of hers."

"Uhuh. Well, I hope you have a good time, give my regards to the girls, and tell Morty to lay off Sabrina for me, if you see him, 'kay?"

"About that…"

"About what?"

"Sabrina is at the bar- she's probably the most drunken person here. Morty stopped by to chat with some people, but now he's gone."

"Gone?"

"Yes, gone. Nowhere to be seen. I doubt he'll be bedding Maylene or Sabrina tonight."

"Huh."

What does that mean? Is he having trouble 'downstairs'?

"Who did he chat with?"

"Oh, let me think. Just Whitney, a young lady with rosemallow flowers in her hair, and Volkner."

"Did he get into any trouble?"

"No, everything was civil and polite. I will ask Whitney what they were talking about, in a bit, if you'd like."

"Please."

"Very well. It's nice seeing you interested."

"Not in that way," I retorted sharply. "I'm trying to find out something concerning Morty. It'd put my mind at rest if I could know for sure. That is all."

"And that something is?"

"Can't say, not until I know the answer."

"Very well, I will respect that. I'll see you tomorrow, right?"

"Yeah, I'll be at the airport."

"Alright, then, goodbye."

"Bye."

Morty's not at the party. Sabrina and Maylene are. He's not going to have sex with them. Not tonight, anyways. Most people leave for their home regions tomorrow, so the chances of collecting the wager any time soon is slim-to-none.

Why pass it up?

Don't all men lust, constantly, incessantly? I can't imagine a pervert like Morty going out of his way to create a bet just to get sex out of women, winning, and then being a no-show when it came time to collect.

What the hell?

I repeated this to myself, over and over.

I stormed around the lower floor of the lighthouse, pondering and questioning and becoming excitable.

"Ugh!"

I paused a moment at a doorway. The Glitter Lighthouse Public Library. It was a tiny auxiliary branch to the main Olivine Public Library. The latter was a large, luxurious building, but it was located way up in the hills. Olivine's literary constituency wanted something closer to the coast, and this was the only available public space. Seeing as a good number of beach-goers came through, it was full of cheap romance fics, mainly geared towards middle-aged women. For the men, one shelf was dedicated entirely to action thrillers, for the cruises, but that was about it.

I sometimes browsed the stock, usually perusing the nonfiction section. I found myself walking in and starting there.

"Guide to Olivine City". Read that a thousand times.

"Psychology of Pokémon". I need a psychology for boys and girls, not Pokémon.

"Beacons of Safety: National Lighthouses". Irrelevant.

Meh! Real life was the cause of all my problems. Where's some escapist literature?

I continued through the thrillers, then through the slice-of-life novels, and ended up in the young women's section.

"How many of these books are actually about love? They're just slutty fantasies," I said to myself.

Why? Why is it so popular? Is procreation so vital that nature had to build in such uncontrollable desires to force us? It's gone so far that there's an entire trashy book industry for women to wet themselves over. I mean, really, why resort to books? It's not as if any decent looking woman couldn't have a dozen men at her beck and call whenever she so desired. The fact that this exists, that we had to invent idealized partners to fantasize over, doesn't that confirm my worldview of a sleazy, bastardly male population? But… but… those kinds of men fill these kinds of books to the brim. What does that say about the women who lust over them? That everyone is a hedonistic chimp, waiting for the next round of pleasure, without any regards to actual love?

It's sad, but true, I think. The whole world is ruled by lust. I was brought up to believe a lie called love. I dearly wish I had never known, I most dearly wish I could be above those urges…

But then I think of him, and a shiver goes up my spine and across my shoulders, my gut sinks, my stomach feels light, and my heart speeds up. I told myself, these are signs of adrenaline, because he scared you. You're still afraid of him.

But… but… it's not that, is it?

I want to believe I'm special, but here I am, angsting over the dilemma; angsting over a boy, and trying to prove to myself that I'm better than that, that I couldn't possibly have feelings- and I'm failing.

I thought I was a good girl with too much to accomplish in life and no need of love. Against all logic, though, I picked a certain book up, some classic but trashy novel about unrequited love, and started reading from the middle. I started reading because… I'm not really sure; it's one of those things you just do. Perhaps I was momentarily piqued by love and romance and sex and the over-blown eminence our world places on it. Perhaps I was a victim of hormones. Perhaps the stress of the day had lowered my guard for a moment. But I was reading about prince charming cheating his way into the heart of an overly sweet, putridly sweet lady, and it was quickly heading towards the dirty parts. "His eyes dwelled restlessly on her buxom chest."  Gross! I set the book back on the shelf at that.

Then I just had to think of Morty. If I had words for my feelings, they'd go like- "Why should he be any better? Why should he deserve me?" Which I don't know what to make of. But it bothered me, and I got curious, and I opened the book back up, starting again at the trashy part.

Well…

I admit: I've masturbated before.But, I did it for the self-pleasure, and only that, and never imagined anything fancy. Besides, it was rare; once or twice a month, and it's been much longer still since the last time. And every time, I felt guilty, and dirty, and not myself. I regretted it. I tried passing it off as hormones, or for mere health reasons. I never wanted to imagine what I was doing was connected to romance.

But now, I'm reading about "faint love's touches" and, god-forbid, "his sturdy penis slipped about her mound". Ugh! How banal! How disgusting! But god and devil I was bothered! All the tingling feelings over my body, on my breasts, in my crotch, were tripping signals to my brain, begging me to read on.

And I did. I did, taking in the poorly written prose, reading each dirty word, each repulsive description, while one hand flipped the pages, and the other… slowly glided… southward.

…

"Mmnh. Mmnh. Mmnh. Ungh!"

…

I'd no idea how honest and sexy I could be, stooped over an open book, standing bent between two tall shelves in a dark corner, a petite girl with a hand down her skirt, fingers working furiously in alternating rhythmic motions, up down up down with my four extended, thumb rubbing circles over my delicate spot while the index and pointy fingers thrust inside my vagina- and it was the first time I had actually used them that way, but don't think me so evil because it felt sooooooooo good! And what made it better? Because in my mind those thrusting vestibules weren't my digits but his member, and he wasn't who he usually is but a perfect gentleman and mighty sex-god. OH, but it was better than that! It was a fantasy that really might be true, that I could share my body with this person I knew, that I could change him, learn to live with him, love him, and when the time came, I could receive him just like this, and feel this feeling without any guilt… NNNGH!

When the orgasm came it was stronger than any I've ever experienced, so much so that my pelvis shivered, which rode up and down my body, visibly, and my legs buckled under the muscle tension, and my face was flush from panting so hard because I hadn't taken a breath for so many seconds. I was so idiotically in love with my pleasure then, I didn't notice anything else.

So I composed myself, tired and happy, flipped my skirt aright, closed and shelved the book, and made to leave, all in one smooth motion, when I looked forward and nearly screamed.

A person was standing there. No, not just a person. It was Morty.

Chapter Text

"Hello," he said.

I didn't reply. I couldn't.

"Jazz, are you alright?"

I backed up against the bookshelf. Morty entered into the room. He eyed me, suspicious. I stared back, silent, shivering. I was still weak from my self-indulgence.

"Sorry to intrude. Whitney said you'd be here, so I came over to chat, have a word or two. Thought you would be upstairs with Ampharos, though. You're really quiet, is everything okay?"

I can't say anything.  I'm scared. I'm having a breakdown.

He saw me. He saw me in my one, singular moment of weakness. He knows, and now my life is ruined. The carefully crafted persona, not merely the personality I wanted to show everyone, but the one I wanted to be - the meek, innocent maiden I truly thought I was- toppled. Burnt at the figurative stake. I could deny and ruse against it, I can easily discredit Morty to the world, I can save my pure image from the judgment of society.

But I could not wipe his memory. The one person I desired to keep out, the only person I absolutely had to maintain my dignity before, was now present, mere moments after a stupid, singular, uncharacteristic lapse in judgment.

"Jasmine?" He called out. I turned my face aside.

Don't look at me!

"Jasmine?" Morty stepped forward. I stepped back.

Don't come near me!

"What's wrong?" He reached a hand out. I flinched away.

Don't touch me!

"Did I do something wrong?" He stopped, stared, puzzled. "I mean, recently?"

I shook my head. Not to answer him, but to deny his existence.

"Okay…" He turned to the side, staring at the rows of books. "If I came at a bad time or something, I'm sorry. I just had something to tell you; it's kind of important to me. So will ya listen?"

A bad time? Don't play it off so coyly!

I said nothing.

Morty said nothing for a moment. His eyes wandered across the shelves, absently reading titles but not registering them. What would he do? What would he say?

"Ahhh." He put a hand to his lower back, pained. "I'm beat. Seven battles in one day. Sabrina and Volkner, damn, they're tough. Maybe I should take a vacation."

What's with this chit-chat? Aren't you going to say anything at all about what just happened?

Morty slumped into a seated position on the wall. He stared at me through his drooping bangs. His headband was clutched in one hand.

"You look shaky, are you sick? Have a seat."

Am I sick? That's rather a fetch to say considering… unless…

He's feigning ignorance! He's going to let it slide for now. I don't have to confront him. Or else he really didn't see me. Either way, I'm off the hook, for now. I released my pent up breath, relaxing, just a tiny bit.

"What are you doing here?"

"Ah… you can talk." He relaxed himself, just a bit. "You look like a rapist walked in."

I nodded. "Yes."

"Well firstly, I want you to know, I would never do that. If that's what you're worried about, it's okay. It's okay, really."

It's not okay, I'm not worried about you raping me. Even if you had, it's not the worst possible outcome. At least, if you did, I could scream non-consent.

"Am I the problem? Do you want me to leave?"

"Yes," I said automatically, not thinking it through.

What do I do? If he leaves he can imagine whatever he wants and I have no way of knowing or controlling it; But if he stays I have to suffer his presence. It's a miserable Catch-22.

"Well, sorry. I hiked it all the way here, so I'll need some rest before I go."

"When did you get here?" I asked, tentatively.

"I came to chat with you."

"Not why, when."

"When? When?" he repeated. "Weird question. Just now."

"Were you stalking me?" I asked.

"No! I swear. I just came in and saw you. What, do you have something hiding in here? A secret boyfriend?"

I wouldn't call a trashy romance my 'boyfriend', but yes, I'm hiding 'something'. There was no need to tell him that, however.

"Nothing. I was bored and was looking for something to read."

"Okay. I believe you." No inflection to indicate sarcasm; he was being serious.

He's either lying or telling the truth. Either way, he seems pretty dedicated to keeping it secret- which means, if he knows, he's being considerate of my dignity. If he really is clueless, then me prying into what he knows will make him suspicious. Maybe I should let him say whatever he has to say and then kick him out.

I took a seat across from him. The library was small enough, so that, with my legs and his legs spread out, our feet were almost touching. His legs stretched out, trying to connect the soles. I drew back into a curled position.

"So why are you here?" I asked.

"Ah. Well, after I finally escaped Palmer, I had some time to myself. I got into a thinking mood. Thinking about the past few days, the past few years. How things have gone, all the funny and sad turns life takes."

"Get to the point."

"The point? Heh. Well, I've been thinking about the people in my life. My mom, my dad, my coworkers, my friends. Whitney, Mary, Danielle, Lizzy, Jeff, Volkner. I've done right and I've done wrong to each of them."

"Mostly wrong, I imagine."

"Hey, let me finish. Like I said, I've been in a reflective mood concerning all of my relationships. I thought I should talk with them, and really get to know them, be honest with them. Life is short and I felt like I can't let people drift out of my life anymore, not without understanding each other. Do you get what I'm saying?"

He's being uncharacteristically introspective.

"What triggered this?" I asked, coldly.

Morty looked away, fidgeted, struggling for words. He was acting insecure. I can count the number of times he's let down his guard in public on one hand. This is… disconcerting. But while I had him this way, I might as well take advantage of it.

"What happened? You're the one acting weird."

"Eh…"

"You're never honest or coy. Out with it."

He gulped.

"My grandma passed away, last month."

"Are you…"

He shook his head. He's serious.

A death in the family. I can't comprehend, nor relate. No one in my family has died, and even if someone did die, I wouldn't feel anything- they all live far away. I'm not close to anyone but my parents, and even that's a stretch to say.

It's… unsettling. I feel like I ought to be sad, to be able to comfort him, but I don't know how; I don't even know how I should feel about this, how I should react.

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"It's not so bad. I barely knew her. What hurts, is seeing mom. She's… not taking it well."

"Oh."

"I don't want to talk- I don't want to focus on that."

I had the fleeting feeling that I shouldn't let him let it go. If he's having trouble, I want to try help. It's the humane thing to do, even if it is Morty we're talking about. Any other time and I would press him. Not now, though, not in my state.

"Like I was saying. I wanted to connect with the people I knew. While I'm here, in Olivine, I thought it would be a good opportunity to have a heart to heart with you."

"What could we talk about? I don't want to see you."

"That hurts. If I bother you that much… I'll be off, soon. I just want to say my bit. But first… I have a question. Will you answer?"

"Ask, and we'll see."

"I mean, it's a really personal question. I just want to know if you'll be honest. Not with me. But yourself."

I hate word games! Out with it!

"What is it?"

His demeanor was such an odd concoction of pitiful and longing. It made me nervous; I held myself tighter.

He leaned forward on one elbow, his eyes glancing towards his lap, before resting intently on me.

"Jasmine…"

"Yes?"

"Are you happy?"

"…"

Amphy's ray of light passed the window four, and five, and six, and seven times. Morty leaned back, but his gaze never left me. He's waiting for an answer, an honest answer, that should, by all rights, never come.

"No," I said.

Hearing the truth hurts. Admitting the truth one denies to oneself…

"I…" He raised his hand. I paused.

"Do you think you would be happier if you had never met me?"

I quivered, then nodded, in the affirmative.

Morty let out a long sigh. He brushed his hair off his forehead.

"I picked on you a lot during school, didn't I."

"Whitney helped me figure that out. I don't really care about what you did back then. We were kids."

"We were," his voice trailed off into the chambers of the lower lighthouse.

"It's everything you've done since."

"I thought so." He paused a moment. "That's what I came here for. I know I hurt you. At the gala, in middle school, during the Johto Festival. I thought I was doing the right thing for you, but I never took your own feelings into consideration. I never meant to hurt you."

"That-" he cut me off with a wave.

"Three years ago, at Indigo Plateau. I know I messed up. I never meant to hurt you, but I made mistakes and bad decisions, and I had so many chances to stop it but I didn't. I know, that incident, more than anything, hurt you."

"Three years ago… yes, I hate you for that. More than anything else, that was it."

"Because I hurt you that badly, and it blew up," he mused.

"No. That's not it at all. Thank goodness Erika's friend existed, or maybe I really would be ruined. I realize you weren't the perp who did it, you were just the idiot enabler. No, what I hate was that you convinced me you could be trusted, and I did. Every ounce and fiber of my being, and every friend and family member told me otherwise, but I let you into my trust. And you messed it up. You betrayed my trust. Because that's you, that's who you are. You aren't going to change."

"I see. That's fair."

He got up.

"Where are you going?" I scrambled to a standing position, while he headed for the door. At the corner of the exit, he halted, turning to face me.

"I know it means crap to say this, but… I care about you. I care about what you think of me. If I'm the greatest evil in your world, then I'll go. Say the word and I will never bother you ever again."

I couldn't respond right away. When it felt like I wouldn't, he turned to leave.

"Wait!" I said.

He turned back.

"You can't fix it like that," I said.

"I don't want to upset you anymore," he said.

"It doesn't matter. You and I met. It's a fact, it's a memory that I cannot forget. Just like I will not and cannot ever forget everything you put me through, including Indigo. You leave now, and that's all I'll have of you. An unhappy memory. You honestly think that will fix things for me?"

"No- but I can stop it from getting worse."

"It will get worse. I know what bad experiences do, how they fester throughout a lifetime, how they blow up years down the road, at the worst possible moment. You say you care about what I think of you? I hate you! You leave and I will continue hating you. There won't be any forgetting, or healing, or mellowing. You can't fix it by leaving."

"What should I do then?"

"Change." I rattled this word off with authority, a forcefulness I didn't think I could muster.

Morty shrugged.

"I can't change who I am. I'll always be that 'pervert' that corrupts your pure and innocent life."

"It does not matter. You have to. That's the only way you can fix what you messed up."

"I can't."

"You can't change. At all?"

"I am who I am. I like partying and flirting and romancing and hookups- and yes, sex. You don't. I thought I could make you happy if I could bring you into that world a little. Maybe I was wrong; it looks like I just it made it worse on you."

"Sex? Sex?! Always sex. Sex isn't the biggest problem."

"What is?"

"What do I care what you do in the bedroom? Not one wit. As long as you could bloody well keep it in the bedroom. It's not about being a pervert. You know who's a pervert? My dad. But he never airs his dirty laundry; he keeps it well hidden and it was a miserable accident that I even found out about it. No and no. What irks me, what infuriates me, is that you have to put your deviant tendencies on display, and drag everyone else into your corrupt world. You force your own sexual proclivities onto people, onto me, those who have no interest in playing your game. And it's everything you do in the process- just this week, you made fun of me for being a virgin."

"I'm sorry."

"Say it like you mean it! That hurt! That hurt a lot!"

"I am deeply sorry," he said emphatically.

"And beyond that. Making bets for sex? Using a bait you knew not one gym leader here could possibly pass up? I fully expected you to be humping Sabrina right now."

"I called that off. Maylene too."

"Why?"

"Hmm." he shrugged, averted his gaze, shifted his weight across his two feet. "You've got a point. I don't want to change who I am, what I like, where my priorities lie. But, I don't want to hurt anyone because of that. I think it's too far gone in your case. But others, I still have a chance. I turned them down because I didn't feel right about the bet."

"Truthfully?"

"Yeah. I do want to change, in a way. I want to make sure my fun isn't at others' expense."

"That's it."

"What's it?" he asked.

"It's about consideration. It's about being truthful. It's about being kind, and honest. Honesty. That's something I have never gotten from you. That's how I want you to change. That's the only way I can forgive you. And stop sleeping around. And keep the crude jokes to your own inner circle. But most of all, be honest with me."

He inhaled a big breath, then let out it out slowly.

"I can do that last one."

"Then show me."

"Okay."

I paused a moment, to plan out my line of interrogation.

"What's the reason Maylene and Sabrina are mad at you?"

"Like I said, I turned them down."

"They shouldn't be upset for that."

He fidgeted. "Let's say I flirted with them when you weren't looking. I might have wooed them. They were looking forward to it."

"And?" There's more.

"That's all."

"No it's not."

He stood still, thinking. I moved closer.

"I… I… she… Maylene. She threatened to call the cops. I promised her the Darkrai outright if she would sleep with me. Sabrina heard, she wanted the Darkrai. I tried diddling my way out, stupid crap like saying who was best in bed, or who won a Pokémon battle could have it. It wasn't working, so I called it off."

I eyed him, still suspicious. He stared back. There was an emotion in his eyes, and it took a long while to figure out what it was, because I had never, not once, seen it in Morty.

"You're afraid," I said.

"Yeah. Of a lot of things."

"You could go to jail, just for what you did. Sexual harassment, extortion for sex. All it would take is for one of the girls to complain."

"Yes, that's one thing. I don't think I would go to jail, but I don't want to take that risk."

"And what else?"

He sighed.

"The Darkrai isn't mine to give."

"Huh?"

"I borrowed it, from a friend. Eusine, I think you'll remember him."

I remember… yes, of course, that lunatic: an incredibly awkward, incredibly ill-dressed oddball that tagged along at the Johto Festival trip four years ago. So, he's the true owner of the Darkrai? That explains how Morty got a hold of it.

"Yeah I remember him. It was a bluff?"

"The bet? Yes. A stupid, dangerous bluff."

"Why did you do it?"

"Because I'm stupid, and having a second brain down under doesn't help. And… I made a promise to Volkner, to meet him in the finals. I wanted to cheer him up, after you- eh. I was going to throw the match in his favor, make him look like a hero who beat a legendary."

"But you didn't."

"I got caught up in the moment. He beat Darkrai earlier than expected with Electivire. His duel-ability bluff got to me, and I wanted to battle seriously."

"That it?"

"Y-yes."

"Are you lying?"

This interrogation was nerve-wracking, on both of us. He had something more to say, beyond all these revelations about today. I was worried, stressed, unsure of what I was doing, what I was aiming for. But for once, I had Morty totally at my mercy, and I wanted to get at everything I could. If he leaves my life, so be it, but I want to rip off that mask and see what's truly underneath before I kick him out.

"Are you lying?" I repeated.

"No. No… Just, the battle… the other part of it was that I wanted to win, to show off."

"To me," I said.

"Yes, you, and a few others."

"Who else?"

"It's personal."

"Honestly?"

"I can't say. It would hurt them, so, sorry, I can't tell you more."

I weighed this explanation. Was there someone else in his life? A romantic interest? Maybe family? A friend? Is he misdirecting me, when in reality he was showing off solely for my sake? That… that last one seems most plausible…

He could always be lying. He is so good at that, even now. I think, because I've never seen him act this vulnerable, that he's more inclined to be honest. But, precisely because I've never seen him act this way, I can't be sure this vulnerability means he's being truthful.

There is one way to find out.

"You're going to change, and be more honest. That's what you're telling me."

"Yeah."

"You're being absolutely honest right now?" I asked.

"Yes." I looked him eye to eye.

I tensed, trying to compose myself even as my heart race. These next questions were it. It would be tortuous, but after everything Morty had said, and what happened just now- I've got to be brave, and deal with the consequences, because hiding and running away has only ever brought me misery. I braced myself.

"Then tell me," I commanded, "What did you come here for?"

"To say I'm sorry. For everything."

"What did you see when you got here?"

"The lighthouse was open. Ampharos was on watch, so I assumed you were here. I let myself in, and found you."

"And what did you find me doing?"

"Putting a book away."

"And?" I asked, even… even as my heart skipped a beat, and my breathing ceased.

"I saw you schlicking."

I flinched. It was the answer I wanted. Not the one I expected, not the one I liked, but the one I wanted. The shameful truth that I could not accept, known and now shared between us.

I wish I hadn't done that. But I had. I wish he hadn't seen it. But he did. To leave it at that, to bury it here and go our separate ways, to not truly know what he saw and having no way of controlling what he thought of it and letting him live the rest of his life apart and this being his final memory of me- a girl who secretly masturbated, and the false impression of a young woman whose entire persona of innocence was a mere façade- to let him think I was a whore for the rest of his life- I could not live with that.

After saying that, he could not look me in the eye. I drew closer.

"Morty, it's not what you think."

"I don't think anything of it. I won't judge or speculate. I'll believe anything you say."

"I'm…" I halted, before I could go on. It was difficult, framing my thoughts into words.

Deep breath.

"Remember what I said earlier. I despise the attitudes surrounding sexuality in our society. I don't want to be a part of it, and I don't want to draw attention to myself for it. Just because I… I… have… the same human… urges as everyone else-" I needed another deep breath here; "-does not mean I have to accommodate a promiscuous culture."

"I won't tell anyone," Morty said.

You had better not!

"…"

"I promise." Morty reached out, slowly, taking my hand. "I promise, I will never breath word of this to anyone."

"No- there's one thing more important."

I'm still trembling. His hands were warm, and sweat-covered. Mine, I realized, were cold. The sweat made them slick; Morty clenched his hands tighter to keep from losing mine.

"I'm listening."

"You. I can't have you thinking what I did today is… it's not permission to think of me in that way."

Morty smiled, came closer, put his forehead to mine, so that we were looking directly into each other's eyes. I did not feel threatened this time, though.

"No matter what you do, I will always think of you as a snow-white angel."

I reached up, and gave him a gentle, painless slap on the cheek. "Don't say such things."

"I'm sorry."

I walked past him, through the darkened corridors, fingers tracing the rough plaster of the walls. He followed, silent save for his footfalls. We arrived at the door to outside, which I opened.

The night air had turned foggy, dense. It was cold, and damp. There would definitely be rain tomorrow. Amphy's light could be seen as a solid beam, reaching far into the murky depths.

"This is goodbye," I said.

He turned to me, stepped back a foot, and bowed, at the waist, a deep and most formal bow.

"I want to say, I apologize, for hurting your feelings."

"It's just words." I used both hands to raise him back to a standing position. "Just words."

"I know. It's all I can offer."

"No, it's not."

"Do you want me to leave? Forever?"

"If you don't change, yes. I can't take it anymore. Not from you. Not after tonight."

"And if I change?"

"I will consider accepting that apology."

"Okay. I got it." He shifted in place, making as if to leave, but not quite.

"Hug?"

"No," I told him.

"Then, bye, for now."

For now. As if I will see you again. As if you can become a person I could accept. Someone who doesn't say things like 'You will be laid by New Year's Day!'. Someone who can control their hedonistic urges. Someone who doesn't play on other's insecurities. Someone I could like… someone I could… love….

His scarf lay flat across his back. He put on his headband, adjusted it, and began walking away.

I may never get him in this mood again. I may never see him again. As he trod through the grass, shoulders hung limp, me contemplating his words and intentions, I realized that I had forgot to ask one question.

"Morty?" I cried out, timidly.

He stopped, waiting, saying nothing.

"Do you have feelings for me?"

He never turned, I never saw his face.

"Yes."

With that, he disappeared into the night.

 Part 1 - End

Chapter Text

Part Two - The Gym Leader's Trials

"It is the common assumption that Pokémon trainers may not carry more than six Pokémon with them at any one time. This is false. The factual truth is more technical in nature. A trainer may not designate more than six Pokémon on his person as battle-ready, and no official match can be conducted with more than six Pokémon per side. The myth that one cannot physically carry or be accompanied by more than six arises from the system built into the Pokémon PC network that designates Pokémon as battle ready or inactive automatically. Common digitalization and storage settings act to automatically retrieve recently caught Pokémon, as they would be considered inactive otherwise and cannot be used in matches. Their inactive designation cannot be changed except at designated PCs and other league-sanctioned facilities. For convenience sake, newly caught Pokémon that would be designated as inactive are automatically digitalized, retrieved, and stored by the system. This gives the illusion that six is an absolute limit. However, a simple setting change can disable this system, and any trainer is allowed at any given time to simply take and let out the entirety of their Pokémon collection. There is no actual mechanic to physically limit the number of Pokémon that can be carried and used at one time, and it would be highly unethical to implement one if it were possible. Thus, the rumor of a six-Pokémon limit is a great misunderstanding. This limit is solely applicable to League sanctioned matches and activities. If, in fact, six were the limit, a great deal of tasks and functions would be rendered impossible- for instance, the transportation of bulk Pokémon caches from region to region, or the deployment of large number of Pokémon for the purpose of labor- constructing a highway or skyscraper, for instance. For that reason, it is not against the law to carry more than six; however-"

Bravo! Your exceptional impersonation of a robotic drone is unsurpassed! There is no discernible difference between your monotonous lecture and that of a computer-synthesized voice-over. We are, truly, humbled by the level of mastery you have attained over the bore-me-out-of-my-bleeping-mind-big-brother-robo-drone language. That persistent sound of slight, insect-whisper-level tapping you hear in the background? I would, with all my heart, love to say that that is the sound of our continuous applause in recognition of your achievement. However, that would be a lie. The truth is, that is me, applying forehead to desk, repeatedly, ad nauseam.

"-consequences for exceeding the six Pokémon team limit are applied on a case by case basis; but in case precedent thus far it has never been any less than a technical null mark applied to official matches. Casual, unrecorded matches are not governed under these rule sets."

"SHUT UP!" I screamed.

"Keep in mind that the National League Committee Ruleset supersedes regional rulesets when conflict arises-"

"I DON'T CARE! I CAN'T TAKE ANY MORE OF THIS KINDERGARTEN CRAP!" The lecturer continued unabated, and I was left looking like a very silly girl yelling into her computer in an otherwise empty apartment.

Well, empty of other living beings. At the moment, it was very much filled to every corner with papers. The Gym Leader Human Resource and Corrections Committee could not be half-assed to go digital, instead preferring the asinine and environmentally unfriendly medium of a six pound binder to enumerate the rules and procedures of probation. Do you have any idea how heavy six pounds of bound paper is?!?! You could use it as a murder weapon!

Three and a half hours of perusal later, those six pounds of sheets were now scattered across every nook and corner of my room, half my kitchen and a third of my bathroom. In the middle of it sat me, a very unhappy girl, sitting before my computer, listening to a mandatory yet haphazard recital of the entire Pokémon Trainer's manual via video lecture. The lecture lasts for two hours, every weekday. This will last two weeks. After that, we get to spend five weeks covering the Gym Leader's manual.

There will be a comprehensive test.

An 'A' is required to pass.

The abbreviated study guide is fifty-four pages long.

…

Welcome to Performance-cited Gym Leader Probation.

a.k.a:

HELL

"The average owner has 1.79 Pokémon, however, the average trainer has 12.5 Pokémon, of which-" My head slumped into my arms. This was pointless.

Our lecturer was a flat, flabby, middle-aged man I didn't recognize from anywhere. He lumped useless trivia together with no coherent organization, nor cared to explain how any of it was relevant or vital to our performance as Gym Leaders. Our only respite was some over-anxious Gym Leader messaging the lecturer with questions, which inevitably sidetracked the man into even more tedious monologues. The worst of it was, we had no way of knowing if the test would be based off of the printed notes or this man's drivel. As if I was going to sit here attentively for two straight hours on the off-chance something he says will show up on the test!

"In the last ten years there has been a trending of ever-larger Pokémon collections. With the so-called "Pokedex Phenomena" sweeping society, certain segments of trainers believe it a viable goal to catch every single species of Pokémon on the planet, regardless of the feasibility of this goal or the trainer's ability to care for such massive, one-thousand-plus collections."

I stopped there. There was no way I was going to listen to this. Most of it was utterly trivial and self-evident, things anyone obtaining a trainer's license would know. Besides, I passed the Gym Leader Summit exam with a 92%, I should be fine on the probation exam, as long as I studied a little.

Hmm…

The lecturer had no way of knowing what his students were doing on the other end of the net. I was about to walk off and clean my room, until-

"Recent studies have called into question the mental health of Pokémon that are part of large collections; that as the size of the collection increases, the ability of the trainer to attend to their individual needs decreases."

He has a point, for once.

I dove into the garbage heap that was my room, snorkeling, so-to-speak, my way through a sea of paper, clothes, trash, bedding, pillows, boxes, etc. My first objective was quickly fulfilled- pencil and paper. My second objective was difficult to find, and due to a counting error, I spent five minutes searching for something that was not actually there.

At last, I alighted on my chair, the fruits of my search before me. I silenced the lecture and put my music-list on autoplay.

Before me were eight pokeballs. Here they were, all in a row, my faithful companions. That last bit of the lecture reminded me that I was not spending as much time with them as I would like. It was time to account for them, take inventory so-to-speak. That'd be the first step in my "Get-Off-Probation" plan.

Okay, here we go.

I drew three pokeballs on the paper. These represented my absentees.

1) Amphy- at the moment, sleeping his pretty little head off in the lighthouse. My pride and joy, and my closest friend (sorry, Erika!) However, I'm not entirely sure how good he is at battles, because he has to spend all of his time dedicated to his work. On the flipside, because of his job, he's the neediest and gets the most attention.

2) Magcargo- I wanted him for my fourteenth birthday, before I decided to switch from a Rock-type specialization to a Steel-type specialization. Nowadays he spends nearly all his time with my dad, helping him with his metalworking hobby. Dad basically takes care of him and acts likes his owner; he even uses him for pickup battles against his work buddies. Despite that leniency, Magcargo is still technically my Pokémon.

3) Sunkern- A Pokémon I caught on a whim during a hike through the countryside. More of a window-sill ornament than anything, currently loaned to Mother to serve as a live centerpiece for a party she's catering. Mother wants me to evolve her because a Sunflora would look prettier. I agree, but can't be bothered to actually put in the effort.

I wrote short notes for #2 and #3, things I'd like to do for them, help improve their lives, train them, and how they might be useful if I decided to use them for Pokémon battles again. #1, Amphy, was a case all to himself and could take up a short novel, so I skipped his section.

Absentees accounted for, I turned my attention to the eight present. As I got to each in turn, I let them out of the pokeball and fed and watered them.

4) "Choir."

"Corsy corsa!"

Corsola, a.k.a Choir, because she liked to sing. Another relic from my Rock-type days, caught because they conveniently congregated by the shoreline. I haven't battled with her in years.

5) "Pineco."

Pineco let out a chippy sounding cry. "Chtchcht!" (it's really not possible to render the cry into written letters). She never really used her name much to talk. At one point I fancied evolving her into a Steel/Bug-type Forretress, but Pineco was so difficult to train, I gave up on it.

6) "Oddish."

"Oddish!" A gift from Erika. I was content to leave the cute thing out of battles. Unlike its evolutions, Oddish exude a pleasant, fresh-smelling odor if watered regularly. Erika specially bred this one for me, as it gave off a jasmine scent. Right now, I sprinkled water over her leaves, causing her to dance under the shower. "Good girl." The smell of eastern flowers overtook the odor of old laundry and bad cooking.

7) "Magnemite."

"Magzzzzzzzttttt." A metallic cacophony greeted my ears. I rapped the Pokémon to get it to shut up.

Magnemite is the younger of my power-plant pair. Terribly underleveled and weak, but not for lack of usage. It was the third Pokémon on my battle roster, but tended to get KO'd too quickly to gain any experience. That was something I definitely wanted to work on.

8) "Magneton." It greeted me with a deep bass cry. It was one of the first Pokémon I connected with. Besides being a stalwart ally and #2 on my battle roster, it had served in all manner of capacities. During the hurricanes, when power goes out, I can use Magneton as a generator. During dark campouts I've used it as a giant flashlight. Once upon a time we even used its Spark attack as impromptu fireworks for a Summer White Festival. It didn't really have much of a personality, though. The only thing it seemed to enjoy was watching TV or me playing computer games.

9) "Graveler." A lump of guilt bore its way through my heart.

"Grava! Grrrrrr!"

I had used Graveler near constantly when I first became a trainer. By her history, she should be as strong as Magneton. Nowadays, I barely pay any attention to her. She's messy, and dirty, and scatters rocks and pebbles every time she comes out. She's a little dim-witted, and she never meshed well with my Steel-centric strategy. I felt bad, really, because I couldn't bring myself to love her.

"I'm sorry," I said, trying to feed her. She ate slowly and reluctantly, and seemed eager to go back into the pokeball.

10) "Voltorb."

"TOOORBBB!"

"CHYAA!" Voltorb bolted out of its pokeball and bounced around the room at high velocity. I ducked for cover, waiting till the little thing settled down. Like Graveler, I didn't especially like Voltorb; unlike Graveler, Voltorb was inexorably attached to me. Even if I thought it was a hothead and prankster and yelled at it and batted at it, it bobbed and weaved and nudged and snuggled as close as it could with me. Introspectively, it acted very much like the stereotypical hormone-driven human males I was always driving off. I couldn't bring myself to part with it, though, because it was my first Pokémon. I had gotten it as a gift for my tenth birthday.

After a game or two, writing my notes for Voltorb and feeding it with a battery, I sent it back.

"Torb!" It flashed away.

11) "Steelix-" I said, just as I stopped halfway through the motion of tossing the pokeball out. It suddenly occurred to me that Steelix is 42 feet long and weighs several tons. It wouldn't be prudent to let him out in my 14x10ft, second floor bedroom. I dashed out to the balcony and let him out there.

"ROOOAOOA!"

"Steelix!"

"ROARGH! SCHHHTEELIXXX!" he roared, loudly and excitedly. I wonder why some Pokémon cry their name, others use animalistic roars and grunts, and some use a combination of both? Steelix was the latter- the more pumped up he was, the less he echoed his name and the more he simply roared, shaking the nearby structures from the volume.

Onix was my second Pokémon, I think, caught on a camping trip. I thought I was going to be an archeologist back then, and wanted anything and everything related to rocks. Steven Stone had recently won his unimaginable second global championship, for which I adored and idolized him. Anything and everything related to geology, archeology, history- basically anything earthy and old- became my obsession.

As I grew older, I came to hate Rock-types, their multitude of weaknesses, their messy habits, their looks. I liked my Onix but he simply wasn't keeping up in Pokémon battles. I had begun reading about the rare Steel type and desperately wanted to specialize in it. The fact that Mr. Stone was known to use Steel types only pushed me farther away from rocks and closer to the shiny new metallic Pokémon.

Besides Mr. Stone, there was a point in my life when I idolized my dad too. In a short period of time he not only moved us back to my beloved Olivine City, but he also helped me evolve Onix into Steelix. The fact that my boring rock snake was suddenly a shiny new metal snake had me ecstatic. I admit, I was a little impressionable at that age.

Steelix became my mainstay, the leader of my battle team. As far as battles go, he's everything I love in a Pokémon: giant, strong, tough, resilient, the ability to be patient or aggressive on command, obedient, versatile. The vast majority of my wins come beneath the crushing weight of Steelix's Iron Tail. Sometimes I volunteer to do landscaping, and Steelix serves as my multi-purpose excavator/wheelbarrow/plow/weedwacker/cement-mixer/soil-tumbler/sand-blaster/water-bucket. I'm accustomed to riding around on his head- if the water isn't too deep, I can even ford through rivers and lakes on top of him. His top speed is 56 miles per hour; I use him for transportation so I don't have to pay for a car (terrible acceleration though, needs more VROOM!). If Amphy gets (takes/demands/whines for) all my love, Steelix has my undying respect.

"Steelix, open wide!" He did, and got a whole pack of treats at once. He munched them down happily.

"Don't eat these." I tossed the other seven pokeballs into his mouth. "I've got a lot of paperwork to do, so I want you to take the team to Crescent Bay Park and play and relax and do whatever. You can have dinner from the cliffside quarry while you're there. Got it?"

Steelix nodded.

"Don't tunnel through the city property, and be back by 9:30, 'kay? Bye now!"

I felt the minor tremors he made as he slithered off. Despite my warning, the spikes of his hide dug into the yard. I winced, knowing I'd have to patch that up later. Oh the joys of Pokémon ownership.

The lecture was over by the time I returned to my computer. My hand-written list lay across the keyboard. I went down the side, reciting the Pokémon to myself.

"Ampharos, Magcargo, Sunkern, Corsola, Pineco, Oddish, Magnemite, Magneton, Graveler, Voltorb, Steelix." Eleven Pokémon. At times it seemed like too many. Amphy alone could swallow up my attention for weeks at a time. I've had to close down the gym just to tend to him. It was a pity, if we took all that time and used it for training, he'd be as strong or stronger than Steelix. Instead- eh, it was not for me to decide. Amphy had an important job ensuring the safety of hundreds of ships. I wasn't allowed to pull him off duty for something so banal as Pokémon battles. They made it quite clear that I'll forfeit my ownership of Amphy if I interfere with his duties. It's such a drag. The others get whatever time I can spare, which wasn't a lot. Like Sunkern, I often lent them out to friends and family, just to give them someone to socialize with when I was busy. I made sure to spend two hours a day, four days a week training, but Steelix and Magneton wolfed down the Snorlax's share of that time.

Somehow, someway, I was going to have to find a way to spend more time with them. I need to become their best friend again, so that they'll trust me when it comes time to train. Because, when that time comes, and knowing what I'm up against, I will have to train them harder than anything they've ever experienced.

I looked about my room, in a little bit of a daze. So much work, so little time. My mind wandered over the previous week, and the summit before that. It dwelled on my e-mail inbox, filled to the brim with messages. Actual paper letters and bills covered my nightstand.

People. Every one of those messages represented a person in my life.

Erika, Lyra, Whitney. My mother, my dad, my aunts, uncles, and grandparents. My landlord. Clair, our regional Gym Leader supervisor. My technician. The five or six trainers who patronized my gym. Other Johto Gym Leaders. Overseas writing pals. Bill collectors.

They all want something from me.

The name popped into my head. Flashes of memory brought me back to the night at the lighthouse. How could one little question and one little one-word answer mean so much, bring out so many conflictive feelings? That night had been so difficult, so tumultuous, one of the worst I've ever gone through. Far worse than the night of the gala. No sleep, none whatsoever. There are scars all over my wall from all the pokeballs I slammed against them in frustration. I was drained, insolent, bitchy even, the next morning. Barely managed to see Erika off on the airplane. I didn't say much during the goodbye, partly because of how upset and confused I was, and partly because I was afraid of going berserk on Erika for no reason at all.

Fortunately, for the rest of this past week I've managed to bury the matter under a mountain of work and worry, forcing my employment fears to the front and center of my conscience, where they belonged. It was enough just to remember his existence and I was already getting angry. I shook my head, reaffirming my priorities.

"I don't have time for a stupid romance!"

I really didn't. I didn't have time for humans, period. All my time had to be dedicated to my Pokémon, first and foremost; from now until December 10th. Until then, Morty can bugger off.

"ARGH!" I braced myself, and then went to work on a ten-page worksheet on the topic of movesets.

Chapter Text

At 12:45 the next Monday I received a text from Erika:

"Sorry, but I forget to mention that I'm arriving at the seaport. Please meet me there at 1:00 PM, as arranged earlier. Look forward to seeing you!"

Quite considerate of her to tell me this, after I lugged it all the way to the airport, located in the cusp of the inland valley. The seaport was on the direct opposite side of the city. That was ten miles away. Furthermore, my primary transportation method, Steelix, was at the gym, training.

"I'll never get there in time!" I moaned aloud.

I sat on a bench, flustered and aching my brain for a solution. I could call a taxi. Heck, I'm at the airport, I don't even need to call one, I can just go to the reception desk and order one. I checked my purse: 150P, enough for a bottle of water, maybe. Not a taxi ride.

"Shoot. Where's a flying type when I need one?" Hmm. What to do? If only I had Steelix… Ah! I'm an idiot.

I searched about the airport and found what I wanted: the Pokémon Mini-center. Next I called the gym, praying someone would pick up.

"Hello?"

Oh thank goodness!

"Connie, it's Jasmine." Connie, one of my underlings.

"Oh hi Jasmine. Aren't you coming in today?"

"Yes, later. I have matches scheduled at 4:00, right?"

"Um… no, 2:00."

"Shoot! Um… okay. That means you need to do something important for me. Is Steelix there?"

"I saw him out back a little while ago."

"Okay, here's what you need to do. Call him back to his pokeball, and then upload the pokeball into the PC network."

"Alright…" I guided her through the process, wincing a little as I gave her my private password (funnybunnies!1010).

"All done. So, see you at 2:00?"

"Right." Yeah! Sure! If I somehow manage to meet Erika, get her back to her rental house, and then screech over to the gym in under an hour. I wish humans could digitize themselves like Connie just did for Steelix.

"See ya later!"

The Mini-center had a service charge, unlike the free League-run Poke-centers. My water bottle money vanished, reminding me it was still far too hot outside for mid-September. Unfortunately, there wasn't time to complain. A flurry of robotically efficient maneuvers later, and Steelix emerged onto the parking lot.

"Schteelix, Schteelix!" he cried. He was a little dazed from the rapid change of environments.

"Stay with me!" I snapped my fingers at him (or rather, made ineffectual, clumsy motions with my fingers, as I can't actually snap them). "We're at the airport, we need to get to the seaport, ASAP! Got it?"

He answered with a roar, ducking low enough so that I could vault onto his head. I clung tightly, and together we roller-coastered off down the street.

"DING!" A new text message.

"Oh, I also forgot to ask, do you have any delivery services available? A rental truck or somesuch?"

Firstly, no, I don't know anything like that; secondly, I have no money for that. Lastly, I can't text and drive, even if my vehicle is a giant fully-automatic living creature!

We passed through the shopping district, creating a stir. Traffic became heavy, and I was forced to decide what the lesser hassle would be: go pedestrian and use the sidewalks, or take the road and wait on cars and traffic lights?

The sidewalks are too narrow, I'd run over the pedestrians. Roadhog it is!

Me riding atop Steelix and cruising through the streets garnered quite a few weird looks. Most people recognized me, some made faces, others waved. I tried waving back at the polite ones so as to keep up a beaming exterior. After all, as Olivine's Gym Leader, I have a reputation to uphold. Inside, all I could I think about was the fact that the clock read 1:06 and I was already late for our rendezvous. Wasn't tardiness the reason I'm on probation in the first place?! Grr! Faster!

"Faster! Faster! Outa my way Slowpokes!" I belted this at the sedan in front of me, trundling along at five miles under the speed limit. Hopefully no one actually heard me say that.

We exited the shopping district. To my front-left there was a clearing and a canal zone beyond that. The seaport lay roughly in that direction, I recalled.

"Steelix, shortcut!"

The dry canal was built to protect downtown Olivine from hurricane surges. Seeing as there are no hurricanes today, I decided it would be repurposed for Steelix racing.

"FASTER!" It took a while, but eventually Steelix's hind sections gyrated like a massive turbine engine. His spiky segments scraped the concrete, creating sparks as they whirred against the surface. The traction gained propelled us along at motorboat speeds.

"Yaaaaaa!" The wind whipped in my face; the infrastructure dotting the canal edge passed us by in fractions of a second. I was hooked on a drug and its name was SPEED. "Fastah!"

This is fun!

Who said Steelixes were slow?

"Schteelix!" my Pokémon happily called out. His head pulled more tightly inline, like an ice-skater, and his lower segments churned even faster. He was trying to gain even more velocity. I'd never ridden him when he was going this fast. I don't think I've ever ridden a car going this fast!

The world began to blur, obscuring my vision, feeding the speed-induced euphoria. A white-on-blue sign, depicting an anchor and some text, barely registered as we snapped by it.

"Woah! We're here!" I cried. Steelix dug his spikes in, coming to a screeching halt. It took many agonizing seconds to stop our forward momentum, leaving a trail of smoking gashes behind us. This was the price a behemoth Pokémon like Steelix paid for high top-speed: terrible acceleration, and likewise atrocious deceleration. Moving, stopping, and changing the direction of several tons of living steel does not happen instantly. This was why Steelix could never land the first shot in a Pokémon battle. I winced a little when the last squeal of steel-hide-on-concrete rang away into silence.

"There."

The docks were close by, and I had already found my objective. It was a ten foot drop from Steelix's head to the floor, but I leapt it with the grace of a gymnast. A lone flower of elegance grew, like a beautiful weed, out of the industrial drollness of the dockworks.

"Erika!"

"Jasmine!"

"Erika!"

"Jasmine!"

GLOMP!

We collided together in a Ursaring-trap embrace.

"It's been forever!"

"I know, like, ten days!"

"Too long!"

"I'll never leave you again!"

"You better not!"

Sisterly kisses and hugs had us enmeshed in each other.

Erika finally extricated herself and stood back.

"You look terrible. How much sleep do you get?" she asked. Her hand wandered up, lifting my disheveled bangs off of my brow. She's probably staring at my bleak, blackened eyelids right now.

"None. It's the only thing I could find to filch time from. This probation is terrible!"

"There there," she said, hugging me again. "We'll get you through this."

"Thank you! Oh, yeah, sorry I'm late."

"No matter, I've been kept busy," she said.

"Why'd you come by boat?"

"Ah! It was the cheapest way to transport everything." She waved towards the dock, where the SeaGallop 9 was anchored. A group composed of men and Machokes were unloading one piece of luggage after another. They had made a pile the size of a Wailmer.

"How much of that is yours?" I wondered aloud, starting to worry when I saw them unload a pair of 7-foot trees and a stack of bonsai plants.

"All of it," Erika answered.

"!!!"

Erika! Is this a vacation, or is this an urban renewal project?!

"By the way, did you find a moving service for me?" she asked innocently.

The haulers plopped another heavy cardboard crate on top of the pile. The entire pile creaked menacingly, as if daring to topple over.

"There is no such service for, uh, this magnitude of cargo, Erika."

"Oh dear." A look of supreme consternation crossed her face. She really didn't think this through, did she? Meanwhile, the men finished unburdening the ship. One came up motioning for Erika to sign off the delivery. She did so, dazedly.

"35,000P, yah?" asked the worker. Erika nodded. She turned to me.

"Are you sure there's no way?" She beseeched me with tears welling in her eyes. Or not, but I tend to exaggerate my friend's feelings.

"You've got 35,000P worth of stuff? That's half my rent… That's too much for me. You'd need to hire a professional house mover for that much, and they only take reservations."

"But… there must be…"

I watched as she deflated into a pitiable pastiche of her normal self. Such a trivial matter, and she looks like she's about to cry!

But the tears won't flow, I knew. That'd be beyond indignity, and the most dignified Gym Leader in the Johto-Kanto area could not suffer to be a public spectacle.

Nor was I going to entertain or risk such a situation, miniscule as the chance might be. There was one solution. It would waste an enormous amount of time, but I brushed the thought off.

"I'll have Steelix haul it."

"No, you're too kind."

I ignored her apologies and protests, and went to work. There was practically free rope lying all over the place, which I used to tie most of her luggage to Steelix. He gripped the two largest pieces in his jaw and tail, respectively. When he was overloaded, only half the pile had been depleted.

"Meh, we'll have to make two trips." It was 1:37 by the time I had everything secured. "Ugh, I'm gonna be late."

"Late? You have an appointment? You can leave it here, I'll manage," Erika said apologetically.

"No way," I shot back.

"Then just do this one trip and I'll take care of the rest."

"How, carrying it on your back?

"I…"

"Drop it, my city, my rules," I said. She yelped, because I sensed she was about to oppose me, so I preemptively stepped on her toes as I returned to Steelix. I hopped aboard the bed mattress tied down to his head, then patted the cushion beside me.

"Let's go!"

"This is really too much." She alighted beside me.

"No way. For you, I'd deliver the world. You mean too much to me."

"Don't say things like that. I… Well… Hah… Ah… Just remember, I'm the big sister in our relationship."

"Ha! I wish you really were. Now shush and tell Steelix where we're going."

"I can't," she replied innocently.

"Huh?" If she didn't even know where she was staying, I'm gonna-

"How can I tell him where to go if I shush?" she said.

I belted her shoulder with my fist, playfully.

"Start north, on… um… I think it's Ca… Caw… something that starts with a C."

"Steelix, Cadence Street." Steelix obeyed, setting off. His movements were surprisingly dainty, being extra careful to hold his passengers upright and keeping Erika's luggage from getting damaged. Good boy! Once I was sure everything would hold, I turned back to Erika. "You're supposed to be the big sister here. Why so unorganized?"

"Oh… Sorry, I really have no excuse," she said. "Though, why did you say that just now?"

"Say what?"

"That you wish I were your sister."

"Because," I said, and then it was my turn to be embarrassed. "An only-child has no one to relate to, growing up. The way you and I are so close and get along, sometimes really well, sometimes hostile; I feel like you're what a big sister would be like. I wish I'd had you there for my whole life, not just a parcel of it. It would have helped. You're my role model, you know."

"So that's how you think of me?" she said, eyes averted.

"Yeah," I said.

"Ahhh." She fell silent for a moment. "Steelix, turn here, left." Steelix complied. "What if you did have an older sibling? Or a younger one?"

"If only, if only. I hope they would be like you."

"What if you had a brother?" she asked.

"Ugh… at least he wouldn't hit on me," I said.

"Oh, you never know."

"Erika! You're as dirty minded as Morty!"

She laughed.

Following tentative directions, and briefly getting lost, we entered a quiet residential area buried in the hills. The road wound its way through the troughs and vales, with elegant housing lining either side. The ridges were covered in tall deciduous trees. It gave the impression that each house was nestled within its own shaded lair. The various branches in the road led off to different subdivisions. We eventually came to a T-intersection, the road diving off in two different directions.

"We're going left, right?" I asked nervously.

"Yes, how'd you know?" Erika replied.

"I had a hunch." Left led downhill and towards a cluster of modest homes. I had hoped she wanted to go that way, or else we'd be heading right and into Aerie Lane: the richest neighborhood in Olivine City. To give an idea, my monthly salary wouldn't pay for one week's worth of mortgage for the cheapest home in there. I knew Erika's floral business was doing well- I didn't think it was doing that well.

"Oh, those are nice homes," Erika said, noticing the outward-most fringes of Aerie Lane's affluence. She was staring beyond the security gate at a grand Wrightian-style manor. It rose four immaculately architectured stories into the sky. What parts weren't made of brick were clad in expensive elderwood siding, and from the looks of it had received a recent paintjob. The lush flora arrayed around it meshed well with the subdued, royalesque color scheme the home sported. A pair of marble Luxray statues overlooked the driveway entrance. I sighed. Neither of us would ever be rich enough to be invited to a dinner party at a home like that, much less juggle the prospect of purchasing one. Erika continued her longing gaze as Steelix turned towards more humble abodes.

We finally arrived at an old, one-story market set-piece with plastic siding, some of which was fraying off.

"Welcome home!" I declared. The time was 1:57.

A glance at the clock and mental calculations told me I was never going to make it back to the gym on time. It was only a question of how late I wanted to be. Ten minutes, at best, if I ditched Erika here and now.

Yet, it seemed to me that ten minutes was too much. If I had to wait ten minutes for something, I'd lose my temper and do something about it, or give up and find something else to do. To me, there was no real difference between being ten minutes late or sixty. I had already made the error, it wouldn't compound my crime too much to extend it further. That is to say, it's no worse a crime for being ten minutes, twenty, or two hours past schedule; the only thing that counted against me was the fact that I was late at all.

Thus the slippery slope that leads to bad decisions.

"Do you need to be somewhere?" Erika asked.

"Yeah. Back at the dock, to fetch the rest of your stuff," I replied. "No telling how trustworthy the dockhands (who we had watching it for us) are."

Erika smiled.

"Thank you so much for doing this for me."

"No problem! You're my bestie."

It was 4:02 when I rolled into the gym. That's how long it took to retrieve the latter half of Erika's luggage, trolley it to her vacation home, unpack, let her settle in, give Erika a guidebook and a quick rundown of local grocerers and eateries, have a mock battle between Oddishes, share tea and discern fortunes from tea leaves, make plans for tomorrow, hug, tearfully say goodbye, and navigate my way back to my workplace.

"I'm here!" I announced. A quick survey wiped the smile from my face. Connie, Ted, and Janina were attempting to keep a large, unruly crowd of trainers at bay. The latter pair's job became all that much harder as I pulled Connie off. The mass of trainers' semi-bored state of irritability picked up into a nastier impatience when they caught sight of me. Shouts and jeers came flying into the back office.

"What's going on?" I asked.

"What's going on! Is that it, huh? 'What's going on' she asks. 'What's mowing the lawn' she asks. 'What's holding up the prom' she asks. Chaos is going on!!! Where have you been?!" Connie demanded.

"Errands. I was held up."

"We've got tons of trainers and they all want a piece of you!"

"Connie, calm down! You're hysterical."

"Yeah, so what? Tell me to calm down?! Your sick ass is dawdling and we're swamped! I said two! Two o'clock damn it!"

I sat stonewall as she unloaded more and more profanity over my head. When she ran out of breath, I broke in.

"How many are actually eligible?" I asked, referring to my policy of requiring at least two victories over my subordinates before challengers are allowed to face me.

"What? I don't know, none of them, all of them? They've got it into their heads that you had a piss-poor showing at the summit and now they think they can challenge you right off the bat!"

"Where's the leader! Get er out here!" came a shout from outside.

"This is ridiculous."

Where in god's realm did they learn about my summit disaster?

"Why didn't you call back saying you were going to be late?" Connie demanded. I waved her off.

"I don't care what they think; I'm in charge, two victories or no challenge! Why didn't you enforce that?!"

"There were too many! You abandoned us!"

She wasn't going to be any more use, I saw. I glanced outside the office door, taking in the medley of people come to pick a fight with me. From appearances, most were the usual pissant beginners who never stood a chance of reaching me.

"Fine, I'll take care of this." I was not exactly mad, but certain circumstances call for judicious employment of feigned 'unbridled wrath'.

I leapt outside and bounded up to the second floor balcony. The crowd continued to shout, jeer, and heckle my gym trainers and me. Even when I faced them down, the harassment did not let up.

Fine. They asked for this.

"Steelix!"

"SCHTEEELIIIIX!!!"

I deliberately materialized him several yards in the air. His massive bulk fell, impacting the earth. His roar hammered the air, and the ground shook in great oscillating waves. The crowd struggled to keep their feet, bobbling like stupid clowns on broken tricycles. Their hands weren't available for balancing, seeing as all of them were forced to cover their ears against the massive tumult Steelix's roar unleashed.

That got their attention. I took a deep breath. Better to start softly, I thought.

"Hello, and welcome to the Olivine City Gym. I am the Gym Leader here; my name is Jasmine. If it helps your preparation, I am a Steel-type Pokémon specialist. Do you know about Steel types? They're quite strong and sturdy. Actually, they're incredibly sturdy. Stubborn, you could say. It takes a lot of power to budge them. My Steelix, for instance, weighs seven tons; I doubt all of you together could lift him a foot above the ground. So to say, it takes a lot to rouse us steely types. A lot of force to move us. A lot of heat before we bend. A lot of abuse before our emotions rile up. Yes, quite a lot of pressure before that threshold is passed and the hard grinding of metal starts in motion. But once it starts, there is no stopping it. And I am terribly, terribly sorry to inform you that that threshold has been crossed."

My voice sharpened.

"What did you think, crossing the threshold of that doorway behind you? Did you assume that, because Johto is a democracy, that it's a free region, you could do whatever you wanted? Wait, could you, ALL of you, possibly think that this is your story? Your adventure? Did you think ALL of you were going to be a champion someday? That every gym is just a another page in your own epic conquest of the Pokémon League? Did you think you're a hero entitled to your own fairy tail ending?"

My voice heightened.

"This is not a fairy tail! This is not a pokewood movie! You are not a hero!  And this gym is not a democracy! It is a dictatorship, and I am its despot! Here, in this gym, my word is law."

Murmurs broke out. They weren't happy with the tone I was taking, or the words I was choosing. Steelix silenced them with a great crack of its tail.

My voice turned malicious.

"So what? You have a few badges, you have a few hotshots in your pokeballs, think the world's yours, huh? I'm just one more target dummy to knock over on your way to Indigo? You heard some Pidgey-brained rumors that the Gym Leader was a shy, sensitive girl who would break down and cry and give you the badge for the great effort of walking in the door?!"

My voice broke into a scathing shout.

"You break into my gym like hooligans, you harass my subordinates, you ignore the rules written in big, red, 500 point font on the front door, you demand a match against the Gym Leader and you think it's your divine right to a badge, like it's some sort of cub scout trophy?! You think I'm some sweet, soft, caring, down-on-my-luck doe-eyed loot piñata? You think you asses are entitled to the whole world?!"

My temper roiled over, and my voice cracked into a heathen roar over their heads.

"You listen and you listen well, babies. I am Jasmine Mikan, Gym Leader of Olivine city, one of the eight most powerful trainers in the Johto Region, and you don't have a snowflake's chance in hell of beating me! You disobey my rules and I WILL CRUSH YOU!"

The look in their eyes- like Stantler in the headlights, frozen stiff with shock. It was delicious. I toned my voice down, just a little.

"Now there's a billion of you and one of me, the evening's wearing on, and the league says I have to give everyone a fair shot, so we're going to have to do something about that. Here's the game: you all versus me. One Pokémon per trainer. Everyone still standing after sixty seconds gets a proper match. Got it?"

"Wait, wait," volunteered a smarmy young man near the front. "You versus us? All of us? Even sixty seconds apiece, that could take a whi-" he was interrupted by the crash of Steelix's Iron Tail. I chopped the air, glaring at the interloper.

"Did I say I was going to take you on one-on-one? No, I said I was taking you all on at the same time! One hundred v. one. Sixty seconds, starting NOW."

I glared down upon them, blood burning, eyes burning, heart burning, spirit burning fire-hot. No one seemed to get the idea.

"Tick-tock! I said BRING IT ON!!!"

A fatty clod decked in fishing gear was the first to get the hint. He reached into his vest, pulling out a Net Ball. "Seaking!" He let out the pokeball in a hesitant, softball-slinging motion.

Before it even tapped the ground, the rest of the crowd chucked their chosen partners into the air. It was a magnificent wave, red and white sliding over itself before crashing into incandescent glitter. From this emerged all manner of Pokémon; tiny and large, cute and intimidating, strong and clever.

I checked the clock on the wall behind me. The seconds-hand had just passed the quarter mark. 16:07:15, by military time. Target end time: 16:08:15. Sixty seconds.

"Get em! Hydro Pump!" "Earthquake!" "Bullet Punch!" "Iron Defense!" "Magnet Rise!" "Endure!" "Hi Jump Kick!" "Fire Blast!" "Body Slam!" "Bullet Seed!" "Head Smash!" The commands of the trainers filled the air. The crescendo of orders jumbled together, confusing their recipients. Each Pokémon paused, for just a moment, making sure they were hearing and obeying their own trainer rather than someone else. That slight pause was all I needed. Steelix already knew what to do. Even so, I felt like shouting out anyways.

"Steelix, Fissure!"

My Pokémon roared, lifting himself high. His tail pierced the ground, like a massive, three ton spear, crackling the underlying bed of rock.

"Woawoawoah!" Connie cried, as did many others. The trainers, not even in the epicenter of the battle area, recognized the danger and beat a hasty retreat. Their Pokémon stood no such chance.

The ground shook, then split asunder. Fault lines split open, the ground simply vanishing beneath opponent after opponent. Startled yelps, furious roars, all manner of doomed cries emitted from the mass of Pokémon. Ranged attacks intended for Steelix went amiss, blasting temporary allies. The leading edge of the foes, a Houndoom, was swallowed whole. Considering the danger that pokemon presented, I was quite pleased.

Pleased? Perhaps that was an understatement.

"BWAHAHAHAHAHA!" I indulged in laughter fit for a supervillain.

"Iron Defense, and then Fissure again!" Steelix used Iron Tail to deflect a half-aimed Ice Beam, then used Iron Defense, and then resumed playing tectonic tambourine.

The thing with Fissure is, it's not supposed to be accurate. It is very difficult, when one is deforming the general landscape, to ensure that a chasm appears right below an opponent. More often than not, the breaks in the earth stretch off in random, useless directions.

However, that's really only applicable when there is only one target. I have one-hundred targets.

Single random cracks in the earth are swallowing a half dozen foes at a time. The chaos caused among the enemy pokemon and the panic induced in the opposing trainers was giving Steelix time to launch even more Fissures. The decimation continued unabated.

"Schteel!"

4:07:52, the clock read. 23 more seconds. Steelix settled back. His Fissures had run their course, and Steelix had no more power for more of them. No matter. A good many trainers had thought they were getting away easy because they chose Levitators or Flying-types. Fissure would not be effective against these; it was time to go anti-aerial.

"Stone Edge," I ordered. Stalagmites pierced forth from the crevices. Steelix cracked the earth again and again with his tail, sending precise seismic waves, which caused the sharpened rocks to violently unearth and send themselves skyward. He managed seven snaps in rapid fire. Spires of stone struck Pidgeottos, Tropius, Noctowls, and Koffing from the air.

"Enough!"

4:08:15. Sixty seconds had passed.

Strange creatures emerged from the dust, each fading echo of the battle causing them to flinch. Their eyes were wide open, gaping at the jagged, devastated moonscape that used to be the gym floor.

I was busy counting. Tortuously, some Pokémon were climbing from the rubble, others daintily hopped from ridge to ridge. They looked to their trainers, hoping for guidance, or a respite.

"Hmm. Seven. Eight. Nine… nope, eight," I said, as one Rhyhorn toppled back into a rift. "Drats." I was hoping to clear out everyone in one go, but I wasn't getting out of Gym Leader duties just yet.

I addressed the crowd.

"Those who have a healthy Pokémon may visit the healing machine in the lobby. Those whose Pokémon were knocked out, please recall your Pokémon and exit the gym. I will need the gym floor cleared very shortly."

Connie, Ted, and Janina met me at the bottom of the stairway.

"That was so cool!" Janina cried.

"You went all out there. I haven't seen you do that for a long time," Ted said.

"Congratulations, we got a call from the seismology department. Again," Connie said, holding up the gym's wireless phone in emphasis.

"Shoo them off," I told Connie. "Thank you, it was all Steelix though," I told Janina and Ted.

Minutes later, the gym rumbled again. Steelix was using Earthquake to undo the damage to the gym floor, prepping it for the terrain renewal system. In truth, I had the gym renovated several years ago just to accommodate his crust-busting attacks. It was essentially a reinforced steel pool filled with a special mixture of clay. An automated system of water pumps and blast fans liquefied the clay and then solidified it, creating a hard but pliable surface. The machinery and structures had cost me a fortune, in the form of a loan that I was still paying off, and would continue to pay off for the next three years (assuming I kept my job).

All this meant Steelix could destroy the ground to his heart's content; the machines would restore it back to new in under three minutes. By the time the process was done, only six challengers were left. The other two must have gotten scared and called it quits. I noted that the smarmy young man had survived. He forwarded himself, eager for a battle. He was giving me a condescending look, as if to say, "I took your best shot. Got more?" That look made me want to slap him. I inhaled. It would be a trap to get upset just because I couldn't knock him out during the general melee. The best response, now that the rabble is gone, is to be professional.

"Hello again," I said, addressing the six surviving challengers. "I apologize for the unpleasantries earlier. I usually require two  victories against my subordinates before I accept a challenge; however we had an exceptional crowd today and were forced to expedite matters. Allow me to introduce myself properly."

I gave them a small, head-tilted smile.

"My name is Jasmine. I am the Olivine City Gym Leader and will be pleased to test your abilities in Pokémon battles today. Please determine amongst yourselves the order you'd like to battle. There is no rush; according to league rules I will accept rematches for as long as the gym is open, which will be until 8:00 today. There is a healing machine and a PC in the lobby for your convenience. The battles will be three versus three with no other limits. Now then, I will await the first challenger at the head of the arena."

That concluded my carefully practiced spiel. I turned and left them, making my way for the office. I had a feeling that the smarmy young man would bully his way to first in line. The three other men and two women would line up behind him in whatever order. They were welcome to watch the battles from the crosswalk, of course, to collect hints and such. I wasn't about to volunteer that information, though.

At the office, Connie approached me.

"You know that guy?" she said, phrased not as a question but a lead-in.

"Yes." She obviously meant Mr. Smarmy. That expression of his made him pop out; there was no losing him in a crowd.

"Please crush him."

"Hmm?"

"He was insinuating some pretty fucked up things to me during the riot. I want you to go all out and crush him."

I nodded. "If you tone down the profanity, I will be sure to annihilate his every hope and dream."

"Thanks."

Elixirs for Steelix. Power restored. All set.

I exited the office, trio of pokeballs in hand. The trainers were gathered around the lobby entrance, waiting for battle. No surprise, smarmy face was first up.

He was dressed in the loose jacket and slacks typical of Hoenn Cooltrainers. His hair was slick with gel and spiked in the front, beneath which lay a cocky set of blue eyes. His mouth was permanently twisted into a grin. Smarmy facial expression, like the world owed him something. An earring dangled from one lobe. Guessing from his form, I'd say he had your average adventurers' athletic body underneath the suit. Maybe not. He seemed like the kind of guy who bulked up at the gym: all artificial muscle. Pathetic. A tattoo peeped out from under his right-hand sleeve. Overall, he might have been seen as attractive by another girl- you know, the kind of girl who feels compelled to douse herself in makeup before her "date" wakes up in the morning. For myself, just on looks alone I'd toss him into the reject pile. Not nearly as good looking as Morty or Volkner, or even Ted, honestly.

I glanced at my sole male subordinate. Short, wimpy-figured, and a wift of dark hair. Stammers a lot. Wears shorts every day, even in winter. Eh… yeah, still preferable over the tatted cool-guy.

I turned back to my challenger. No danger of being distracted by his looks, I assured myself. He's merely an opponent. According to Connie, a chauvinistic prick too. I don't like losing in general, but I certainly am not going to lose to this man.

Still, he managed to survive Steelix's rampage, and I don't remember which Pokémon he had. Best to play it safe, then.

"Are you ready?" I asked.

"Name's Warren. Yeah, I'm ready." He threw me a wink. "But first, why don't we spice things up a bit? Boring badge fight is boring, you know? Let's play for something real. A bet-"

"I don't allow wagers here," I said, loud enough to cut him off mid-sentence.

"Ah-"

"Please send out your Pokémon."

"Fine, fine, killjoy."

I know I'm a killjoy. I like it that way.

"Magnemite!"

"Graveler!"

Magnemite, to scout his team first. A Graveler, as it turns out. Probably avoided the Fissures with its Sturdy ability. He plans on Earthquaking my team. It's also immune to the Magne-line's electric attacks. Fortunately, it's a slow thing.

"Rock Polish!"

"Magnet Bomb!" Magnemite hummed. Warren lifted an eyebrow. He didn't see anything, but that was because the initial projectile was made up of electro-magnetic energy and was invisible.

Graveler, oblivious, rolled itself in place.

"Earthquake," the Cooltrainer ordered next.

"Grava?" The Pokémon was confused, because it was wondering how an Earthquake was supposed to hit Magnemite's current position.

"What's the matter?"

Graveler turned towards him, revealing Magnemite's position- namely, glued against Graveler's face. The rock-type Pokémon tore at the foe, rather uselessly. Its arms were too stubby and inarticulate, and Magnemite was clamped on tight. The Magnet Bomb and Magnemite's Magnet Pull had interacted strongly, binding the two Pokémon together.

"Huh?"

"Flash," I ordered. Magnemite was in the most optimal position for that. Graveler rocked on its rear end, blinded. "Supersonic." Magnemite hummed, then screeched, sending dissonant, mind-jarring vibrations directly into Graveler's rock-hewn skull.

"Earthquake, just land on top of it. No, not like that!" The trainer spent a frustrating half minute trying to explain to Graveler what he wanted it to do. Although the Supersonic wasn't helpful, I'd say the trainer caused the bulk of the Pokémon's confusion. Well, even with Reflect up, Magnemite would never survive a pointblank Earthquake.

"Magnemite, please Self-Destruct."

"Zzzzt."

ZZZZZZZTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT!!!

A ball of fire engulfed the two opponents. The crack of the boom echoed and re-echoed across the walls. The shockwave lashed out, sending debris every which way. One chunk of rock flew past Warren, nearly nicking him. I gasped.

"Woah!" He flinched. "Hey, where's the force fields?" he cried.

"They're on," I assured him. Inwardly, I was cursing myself. I had sworn I turned them on this morning. Had Connie deactivated them in the meantime? I glanced at her, but she shook her head and raced off.

"Graveler, that get you?"

"Graval!" It stood tall, not egregiously harmed. It was just a Magnemite, after all; even a Self-Destruct wasn't going to do that much harm. I wonder why I had got my hopes up.

"Magnemite, recall. Magneton, come out." I exchanged the fainted Pokémon for the fresh one.

"Kay, now we're getting somewhere. Earthquake, and I mean it this time!"

However, Graveler was slow to respond. Magnemite had done its job: create a small opening for Magneton.

"Magnet Rise!" My Pokémon rose into the air. The Earthquake, finally executed, passed harmlessly beneath it.

"Whatever! Rock Throw!" Graveler hurled chunks of the terrain. They bounced harmlessly off of Magneton's metal casing.

"Thunderbolt." A tongue of electricity poured into Graveler, dissipating into the ground without doing damage.

"Um…" Warren looked a little stumped.

Yes, I know Ground types are immune to electricity. I'm only screwing with you. With Magneton floating in the air, there is nothing a Graveler knows that can touch him. I have one of my own, I would know. Outwardly, I let off the slightest hint of a smug grin.

"Whatever." He ran through Graveler's entire moveset, Rock Throw after Stone Edge after Rock Slide after Double Edge after Bulldoze. Magneton floated serenely some twenty feet in the air. Like a UFO raining lasers, it continued to dish out ineffectual Thunderbolts, for no other reason than to demonstrate how one-sided the situation was.

"Stealth Rocks!"

Graveler unleashed sharp, hard-to-spot shards throughout the arena.

"Hey! Gym Leader!" Warren shouted. My name is Jasmine, I told you that. Twice.

"What is it?" I asked politely.

"Do you only have electric attacks?"

"I believe so. I'm not entirely sure, though."

Warren smirked. He's thinking Graveler can wear Magneton down, tiny fraction by tiny fraction, so long as Magneton continues to fire useless Thunderbolts.

"Rock Throw!"

"Oh, I forgot. Iron Defense." Magneton gleamed faintly. It wasn't apparent, but the composition of its metallic casing had changed, stiffening. I ordered this repeated twice more. Now, "tiny fraction" would not be in the same galaxy as describing what infinitesimal damage was being done to Magneton. Despite this, Graveler continued to launch rocks at it.

"Smack Down?" Warren said.

I froze.

Graveler aimed another rock, and let loose. The projectile flew past Magneton, missing by several yards.

Phew!

"Damn it!" Warren pounded his fist into his palm. The smarmy grin was long gone from his face.

"Smack Down! Until you get it!"

Three more projectiles, missing by even wider margins. This felt dangerous, but my moment of fear passed. Certainly, if Magneton touched the ground, it would be vulnerable to Earthquake. However, it appears Graveler has never practiced this move and its aim was atrocious. Even if it managed to hit, Magneton could always use Magnet Rise again. The Iron Defenses would allow it to survive an Earthquake or two. Still, I was mortified that I had forgotten about Smack Down. I couldn't stand to take any more chances.

"I apologize, I'll be serious now," I said to my opponent. "Magneton, Flash Cannon."

All anyone saw was the sharp, silvery flash. The bullet of light energy split the air too fast for the eye to pick up, nailing Graveler. The one shot was all it took to down the rock type.

"Your next Pokémon, please."

"What a…" and he mumbled something else under his breath, something starting with a 'K' sound.

"What was that you were saying?"

To my surprise, the Cooltrainer spoke up.

"I said I'm not losing to a cunt like you."

My temper flared. A soft voice from the distant past interjected, an instant before I blew up on the offender.

"Profanity is the attempt of a weak and feeble mind to express itself forcefully," I recited. "I hope you will remain civil for the rest of the match." Wise words courtesy of Mr. Pryce. Besides, when they started cussing out, you know you've gotten under their skin.

"F- frack it. Magcargo."

Yet another Pokémon I owned, what a coincidence. Good, I should be able to predict it too. The newcomer eyed the air above, keeping tabs on Magneton. It unfurled a plume of white-hot ash in the direction of Magneton. Magneton attempted to dive away; a hasty Light Screen prevented a sidelong blow. A Lava Plume attack, no surprise.

"Magneton, return!"

"Eruption!"

"Oh…" Magneton was zipped back to its pokeball, while the ground within 10 yards of Magcargo burst into searing spouts of lava. I could feel my own skin drying from the intense heat. Good thing Magneton was heading back into his pokeball.

"Whaaat? What?! Didn't you…" Cooltrainer Warren seemed confused. "Didn't you order it to Return?" he finished.

"Return? Oh, you mean the attack, Return. No, I'm switching Pokémon."

He had thought Magneton was about to melee Magcargo; that is why he called for the close-range Eruption. Instead, the imposing form of my team lead filled the arena. Steelix dragged his tail from side to side, slowly, menacingly.

"You wasted all of Magneton's setup to switch?" he asked. Oh, he thought Return was an attack based on the assumption I wanted to keep the Iron Defenses active. Time to correct him.

"Iron Defense and Magnet Rise are of no help against Lava Plume. Holding your ground against a dangerous opponent just because you have status boosts is a silly mistake. Too many trainers fall into that trap. Steelix, Earthquake."

Warren flung his pokeballs, switching out Magcargo for a Ludicolo. Its vegetative body swayed smoothly, absorbing the Earthquake tremors with negligible damage.

"Hydro Pump!"

"Magneton!"

"Magcargo!"

"Thunderbolt!"

It became a high-speed game of switching and offense. I knew I had to end this fast, because of Magcargo's dangerous Lava Plume and the Stealth Rocks homing in on every new switch-in. Magneton's Thunderbolt lit up the Magcargo like a tesla coil, piling volt after volt into its body.

"Lava Plume."

Magcargo withdrew into its shell. Burning ash plumes billowed towards Magneton- not quickly, but Magneton didn't have the room or range to dodge.

Stay in and attempt to Thunderbolt through it? Or switch for Steelix again? I had one single second to decide, and two more to act.

"Steelix!"

The ash cloud rolled over Steelix's form. The ground beneath me shook, evidence of the Pokémon's agony-induced thrashings. The cloud of ash and smoke obscured the battlefield. I held my breath.

The cloud slowly lifted.

"Schte..." It looked bad. The steel hide was glowing. I wouldn't dare touch it, or else I'd lose my hand. Steelix moved, impossibly slowly. He was about to faint.

"Earthquake."

Predictably, Warren switched out to Ludicolo. It was redundant, however. Before the seismic waves reached the other side of the arena, Steelix collapsed.

"Two down," the trainer said, the smarmy smirk returning to his face. Magneton reappeared.

"I wouldn't switch," I cautioned him. He stared at me, as if trying to decide if I were sincere or trying to use reverse psychology.

"Magcargo."

I was being sincere.

"Thunderbolt." The familiar flash and buzz signaled another bolt of electricity diving into Magcargo's shell.

"Again."

"Lava Plume!"

I had a good feel for Magcargo's reaction speed and stamina now. It could withstand no more than two Thunderbolts, max, and was slower than Magneton. They attacked simultaneously, but my Pokémon got the first- and last- hit. Magcargo curled into its shell, fainted.

"Ugh! Flippin brattin colly-whackin-" the verbiage went on and on. Not one word was actually illicit, however. I do have to admire the willpower needed to not cuss in this situation, especially for a such a profanity-prone individual such as him.

"Ludicolo."

The final stand-off was anti-climactic. His Ludicolo was purely offensive; all of its moves were easily countered by a single Light Screen. It had nothing to protect against a simple Metal Sound/Thunderbolt combo. Ludicolo rolled over, done for, and the match was mine.

Warren was fuming. It would be no understatement to say he was as red as a Tamato Berry. Still, he kept his foul-mouthing internalized. He knew I could kick him out of the gym if he antagonized me, and I was certain he'd want a rematch.

Across the room, I spotted Connie fist-pumping. My subordinates clapped, politely. The other trainers nodded, taking in the lessons learned and planned for their own matches.

I basked in the warmth of victory for a moment. Then, it was time to heal my team. That finished, I called for the next opponent, a curvy, rambunctious woman.

"Next."

"You were swept 3-0?"

"By a Baltoy."

"A Baltoy."

"Yes."

I was frowning and being very grumpy, because the experience had been so ridiculously illogical that an extended round of pouting was almost mandatory. Losses were a part of the job. Being soloed by a single Pokémon was a little humiliating, but expected every once in a while. Yet, when it happens, and when the beatdown comes at the hands of a prehistoric kid's toy, "humiliation" does not do my emotional state of mind justice.

"It's not even evolved!" I blurted, angrily.

"You're nitpicking, my dear. You still defeated her." Erika took a small sip from her cup of sake. We sat across from each other at a downtown café. It was late, 9:50 by the time I finished my gym battles and probation lectures.

"Once! She got me in the first rematch. Everyone else took three or more tries! And I only won the first match because she made a really silly mistake. I mean, if you're going to use Gravity to Earthquake a Magnet Riser, keep in mind it nullifies your Levitate too!" The Baltoy was caught on the receiving end of Steelix's Earthquake after nullifying its own ability, and her other two Pokémon were easy enough to deal with. Afterwards, she made sure to reverse Gravity up and down to suit her own needs. Magnemite, Magneton, and Steelix were helpless.

Oh, but that's not the worst of it. Let's sound off: Power Split to steal my offensive thunder? Check. Trick Room screwing with me and my Pokémon's senses? Check. Telekinesis lifting Steelix in the air, removing his Electricity immunity and ability to Earthquake? Double check! And, and, and- I- I must mention the coup-de-grace of absurdity: SINCE WHEN DOES ATTACHING A TV ANTENNAE TO YOUR HEAD LET YOU USE ZAP CANNON?!?!

"Oh do stop pouting. You had plenty of victories, it sounds like."

I sighed. She was right. Memories of the rest of the matches seeped in, filling me with a warm, fuzzy glow.

"What was your record?" she asked.

"14-4," I answered.

    "Four losses? Oh dear." Her head waved ever so slightly, her eyes rolled from side to side: the mixed result of deep concern and insobriety.

"What? I only have to win half my matches. I'm at better than 3 to 1."

"How many trainers?" Erika asked.

"Six."

"Oh, poor thing."

"What?! I'm doing pretty good."

Erika put her cup down with extraordinary care, setting it beside four others. Come to think of it, she's the only person I know who drinks sake like tea. She's also a very gentle drunk, but at times can get really weird. I felt one of these episodes coming on.

"You poor, pitiful thing. You haven't read the rules on probation, have you?"

"I did."

"But, then, you must know your win ratio is not counted per battle, but per trainer."

"Huh? What does that mean?"

"Divide your losses by the number of challengers you faced. That is your true win ratio, according to the League."

"Wait, I don't understand. Run that by me again."

"Ah, it is a bit mathy. Alright, think of it as an algebra equation. You have your variables." Erika, in swooning, dainty motions, arranged two piles of salt and pepper packets, as well as a collection of used sake cups.

"Each cup is a trainer, you see? And each packet of salt is a loss, and each packet of pepper is a victory. Your victories and losses, to be clear."

"Okay."

"Five cups here. Now, once a trainer wins, they leave you alone, because they have their badge."

"Mostly," I nodded. "Sometimes they come back for rematches."

"We don't care about those. So we have five cups, so the most losses you can have is five. Let's put them by the side for now." She put one packet of salt by each cup.

"I see," I said, thinking she could really do without the visual metaphor. But, she seemed to be having fun.

"Now here comes your wins. Let's say, you got all these wins against the four trainers." She scooped up the pile of pepper packets and distributed them on the other side of the cups. There were at least twenty packets spread out aside the cups.

"Now, guess what? The league does not care about them- at all!" Without warning, she slashed at the table surface, sending the pepper packets across the room. The waitress and customers of the café eyed Erika, a little startled. I waved them off, sheepishly, even as Erika sniffed the empty cups. Her nose wrinkled. "There was tea in these before there was sake," she muttered. She lifted her eyes to me. "Green tea." She sounds like the staff had committed a grave and mortal sin. "Where was I? Oh yes. Victories, losses. You see, the pepper packs, ergo your victories, mean nothing in the equation."

She began playing with the salt packets, as if they were animal cookies. "Now, if you had five challengers, then let's say you lost twice, which means two badges given, two trainers with badges. The other three go home empty handed." She plopped one packet each into two cups. "Now your loss ratio is two out of five. Your win ratio is the the remainder. You have 'won' over the other three trainers by not letting them have your gym badge. Thus, your ratio is three out of five, or 60%. Understand?"

I would have understood without the elaborate cups and condiments metaphor, but I nodded anyways.

"So wait, this means I can't lose to a trainer at all? I have to keep beating them, no matter how many rematches, because, if they win, even once, that brings my win ratio down?" I asked in disbelief.

"Correct, my dear and brilliant Jasmine."

"I have to sweep an entire day's worth of rematches? That's not fair!"

"No, Jasmine, you have to sweep an entire lifetime's worth of rematches."

"Lifetime? You don't mean…" I uttered, the full realization coming upon me.

"Yes. You cannot let an individual trainer beat you, ever, less your win ratio go down." Erika's eyes lay upon me, a serene expression coming over her. It was pity, I realized, mixed with a little affection, caring, and drunkenness. "I am ever so sorry for your position. Why, even the best Gym Leaders in the nation struggle to reach 60% lifetime ratios." Her fingers traced invisible patterns in the air. "50% for an average Gym Leader such as yourself? Ah! Tragedy. Well, at least you have the benefit of a fresh start."

I was busy calculating the matches from the past week in my head. Including today, I was at 75 wins and 16 losses. But according to Erika's explanation, I was really at 16 losses out of 25 trainers. Two-thirds in the red. I had thought I was doing well, when in fact, I'm in a massive hole already.

"Oh god!" I cried. "I'm at 36% win ratio. Thirty-six percent!" My head promptly met the table surface. Erika leaned over to rub and pat my hair.

"There there. It's still early."

"It's not fair! How come it's so hard?! How come we have to win so much?! Tell me why! Why do we have to be perfect against all these trainers?! Why didn't I know about this? Why is the League so stupid?!"

"You never knew because you didn't have to know. The usual requirement is so low, something like 20%, most Gym Leaders never need to bother. 50% is a cruel hardship they've inflicted upon those under probation!"

She's trying to use her soothing tone of voice, but the sake has warped it into something strangely upbeat. It was pissing me off. My temper was already bad enough at the discovery of my atrocious win ratio.

"But why?! What's the point? Why must we have to win and win and win? There'll be trainers out there who've never beaten a Gym Leader, so they'll never get their badges, and that's expected? Are we seriously here to deny them them a shot at their hopes and dreams?"

"Jasmine."

Erika's tone had undergone a jarring change. It was forceful, loud, and commanding. The sharpness caused me to bolt straight up. The expression on her face was no longer a mellow, drunken haze, but hard-eyed and deathly serious.

"Do you know what the duty of a Gym Leader is?"

"To test trainer's capabilities," I answered, sure of myself and yet knowing that was the wrong answer.

"Wrong!" she shouted, and I flinched. "We are here to crush their hopes and dreams!"

She went on, no longer shouting, but her forcefulness did not waver.

"The Pokémon League is not a civil service. It is a business and a regulatory body. Its primary responsibility is to ensure the safety and ethical practice of Pokémon battles. Its secondary function is to govern the business of professional Pokémon battles.

We, as Gym Leaders, are the filter through which League candidates must pass. There are hundreds of thousands of aspiring trainers, and only a tiny fraction can be allowed to make it into League play. Our job is to whittle those hundreds of thousands down to a few hundred. If it were simply a matter of perseverance, such that every trainer with a stubborn streak could collect eight badges and enter the League, the system would be inundated. The tournaments could not handle the load, the invitationals and seasonals would be swamped, another superfluous layer of testing and elimination would be needed, and, above all, the payouts would be split piecemeal till the allotments came to chump change. It would be entirely unprofitable for business. And, never, ever fool yourself into thinking this is not a business."

"Money?!" I squeaked. "This is all about money?!"

"Where do you think your salary comes from? The League isn't funded by the government."

"We're pledging our lives to the spirit of competition, we're having our Pokémon hurt and be hurt, we're battling other humans with all the rage and emotion of a real war, all for money?!?!" I screeched.

"It's an entertainment business. The League offers the public at large spectacle, and the public pays for it, through ad revenue, tickets, and merchandise. We are paid to facilitate the recruitment process for the Pokémon League. It is as simple as that."

I knew this, on a background level. I was dimly aware of how the League functioned, and how I fit into the overall process. Yet, it had never occurred to me to question my place in that system, or even reflect on it. But now, with the cruelty of probation bringing it into focus, it struck me as an excessively hollow, passionless thing.

I thought about the countless trainers who I've fought. With enough time, perseverance, and training, I yielded my badge to most of them. Not all, though. A quarter, maybe? A third?- never won against me. The other two-thirds beat me. Yet, the overwhelming majority of them could never hope to be good enough to conquer all eight of the Johto leaders. They'd find their match in one or two of us, different Leaders whittling off different segments of the trainer pool. So that, only a small percentage would ever find their way to Indigo.

The rest? They'd need to move on, find something else to do with their lives. Why are most of my challengers so young? Because only teens and young adults can afford to travel the region and attempt to break into League play. If they can't make it? They get older and suddenly mama and papa stop paying the bills and they need a real job. Competitiveness fades, families are started, responsibilities multiply, bills pile in, and without a steady income, most trainers give up. Only that small fraction that gets into the League circuits are paid well enough to make a living out of Pokémon battles. An even tinier fraction can find other jobs in the field, like being a Gym Leader. But, fractions, truly; the vast lot of them are screwed.

"Good god," I said. "We're not just crushing their dreams. We're destroying their careers."

"Yes, we are." Erika resumed sipping on a new cup of sake. Her moment of blunt realism had passed.

"That's so… tragic," I said.

"Almost as tragic as being a Gym Leader for six years and just now figuring it out."

"I knew the facts… I just never thought of it this way. All those people, and we're crushing their dreams." Just like the League and Probation was about to crush my own dream.

"Their dream is to be the very best trainer. For every battle, there must be a victor, and a loser. For there to be a best trainer, there can only be one victor, and many losers."

"I don't like it."

"But it is what it is. It's not as if you can change the system." She finished her sixth cup of the night.

A whisper of a fantasy crossed my imagination. A gallant young woman sets out to tear down the repressive system that she was once a part of.

If only… But no, something that big was beyond me. Beyond any one person, probably. I can only focus on my own situation. I can't beat them but they sure as hell won't beat me.

"It hurts. It hits too close to home," I muttered, upon more reflection.

"Hmmmm? What does?" Erika asked lazily.

"Don't judge me," I said, as warning. "The reason I became a Gym Leader. Well, one of the reasons. I loved Pokémon battles, and not much else. I couldn't do much else. I don't have any other talents, or skills. My grades were only average. I was good at battling and I got a lucky opportunity. Do you get me?"

She stared impassively.

"I'm not necessarily a Gym Leader because I want to. I'm here because it's the only thing I can do. If I can't make it as a Gym Leader, I don't know what I'd do for a living."

Erika said nothing.

"You're not listening," I said, grumpily.

She did not stir.

"You're not awake are you? Seriously." I sighed. The woman acts like she can handle her sake, but she's such a lightweight. I waved a hand across her face. Her eyes remained focused on the air three inches in front of her nose. No response otherwise.

She was going to force me to bring her home, wasn't she? Fine, fine. I rummaged around her purse. "Cab money is coming out of your wallet, okay?" No answer. "I take that as permission." Now, to figure how to lug this woman out the door.

Chapter Text

I fingered the sheet of scrap paper nestled in my hand. It had been painstakingly compiled during Thursday afternoon's video lessons. While the process of eliminating 490 Pokémon down to less than a dozen, weighing and comparing each and every single candidate multiple times, had been mentally taxing, it was still preferable to Mr. Dronesington. The end result was a list of a mere ten Pokémon from around the nation. This was my wish-list.

"Water Absorb for Mantine," I muttered to myself. The pencil residing behind my ear came out, striking downwards to jolt another note onto the page.

At that moment the train hit a snag and the pencil head went flying. My beautiful list was ripped down the middle.

"Aww." I stared at the mangled remains of three hours of hard brainwork. There was no spare paper to copy it over, either. Dejected, I slumped back into my seat. Erika gave me a cursory glance before returning to her book.

"What are you reading?" I asked.

"A novel."

"What's it about?" I asked.

"Such things as would make your virgin heart flutter," Erika answered.

I eyed the cover, full of scantily clad women fawning over Heracrossian men. I found myself staring, and beginning to drool. That book…

Look at all those fair, luscious, delicious, ravishing, untainted, immaculate, virgin leafs of paper. Would oh would Erika let me borrow one, just one? Any one would do, I would be perfectly content to violate mere margins. Though, to be sure, the chapters ends are what I truly yearn for. So much blank space, it's just begging to be pierced by the graphite of my instrument.

"Hmm?" Erika caught me enraptured. "Do you want to read it?"

"No, I want to desecrate it," I replied.

"Oh naughty naughty."

I sighed, and leaned into the side of my seat. Outside the window, Route 38 passed us by. The hedges abutting the rail blinked by too fast to be seen, just blurry fudges of green. The pastoral valley beyond was filled with Miltank farms passing lazily into and then out of view. Much further in the distance, the rugged forests and mountains barely moved. Picking the motion of the peaks was like watching the hour-hand of a clock- having no perceptible movement, except when you don't stare at it for a few seconds. It was this difference of relative motion that made me appreciate the view.

Today was Friday. One good thing about probation, it didn't stop the paycheck from arriving in the mail every other Friday morning. That meant I had a little extra money, which was now being put to use to ensure I kept getting a Friday morning paycheck. We were on a fully (if cheaply) funded Pokémon-catching expedition. I had three days, and I wanted three new Pokémon on my roster before I returned to Olivine. The first on my wish-list required a long trip to the other side of Johto.

"Ding! Attention. We will be arriving in Ecruteak in ten minutes. If you are planning on getting off, please attend to your luggage and remember to use the left-side exits. For those planning on staying aboard, our next stop will be Goldenrod City in 5 hours."

"That's our connection," I told Erika.

"How long is the layover?" she asked.

"A little over an hour. Time enough to catch lunch."

"Oh good. I know this little place from when I last visited, a nice fiesta diner, why don't we go there?" she suggested. She was staring right at me as she did so, with an overeager look to her.

"Um, okay."

The farmland ended and the trees suddenly got much closer and much, much taller. This was how I knew we had arrived at Ecruteak. The city is hidden from sight by an ancient deciduous forest. From ground level, the only visible sign of civilization was the venerable Tin Tower reaching high above the treetops.

The train station dumped us onto the end of the major avenue running through town. The boulevard was lined with elms and dogwoods, whose leaves were already starting to show their autumnal colors. They were the same trees I remembered from my brief childhood here. The human infrastructure, not so much. My finger traced the outline of an unfamiliar shopping district. Everything was much newer, more modern, more aesthetically pleasing than I recalled.

"Say, this place you're taking me to. Is it old or new?" I asked Erika.

"Old. The owner has been around for forty years. He and his wife opened it up when they were just starting out in the world. They had a lot of children and all of them help run the place now. I had a lovely meal and chat with the owner last year; it left a wonderful impression," Erika said.

"You're talking about Treyarch's, aren't you?"

"How'd you guess?"

"I lived here for two years, remember."

I let out a little half giggle. Treyarch's Café and Grill was, by far, the best dining in Ecruteak. Unless you counted the Kimono Girls' place, but I don't consider that a restaurant so much as fine entertainment with a meal on the side. Besides, it's expensive as a Lickitung's all-you-can-eat buffet bill. Treyarch, by comparison, is affordable, and the sushi burgers are soooooo good!

"Whitney and I would go there after school all the time. She'd usually chat up the boys."

"Oh really? What did you do while that went on?" Erika inquired.

"Me? I was usually dragged into the conversation," (kicking and screaming, literally, I didn't add). "I got set up on a blind date my last year of middle school there. It was terrible, just terrible. Eighth graders are so clueless, he ruined the whole meal, dumped spicy sauce over everything thinking it was soy sauce. I'm a little bitter about it."

"Why?"

"Because that was the last time I went to Treyarch's."

"Really? You've never been back to Ecruteak since?"

"Well, no." I generally avoid Ecruteak like the plague on account of one singular male inhabitant. Eh…..

My days have been spent unhappily preoccupied by probation. Morty-related stress has been relegated to the wee time it takes for me to fall asleep in bed. The former stress, while weighty, had a straightforward solution. Win matches, get off probation, simple, easy. The issue of Morty had no easy answer. I had the impossible problem of wanting him to not like me. Not merely for him to not stalk me, not bother or bug or tease me; I did not want his affection, period. But even the most forceful and explicit rejection was not enough to erase his feelings. What's worse, I don't hate him enough to pull a nuclear option to get rid of him.

I realized, through many nights' worth of anguished introspection, that I like him enough as a person to not want to hurt his feelings. He had teased me, and violated my sense of dignity to be sure, but looking back on middle school, he also helped me. He kept the more abusive boys away from me, and took my side in arguments. It was his incessant, nerd-tastic conversations about the Pokémon League that first gave me the idea of becoming a Gym Leader.

He plays pranks on people and then turns around and volunteers for community service. He gambles for money and then fights local loan-sharks. He goes out on one-night-stands and then refuses to take advantage of women. His whole persona is a mixed bag.

The only way I could think of to kill his affection would be to hurt him so badly, that he'd hate me for the rest of his life. I don't want him to hate me, that's too extreme.

But I don't want him to like me, either.

There's no good solution in sight, so I just really really really do not want to see him. Yet, here I am, stepping into his home territory. I silently prayed that coincidence would not conspire against me today.

"Something the matter?"

"It's nothing. Just a little uneasy, coming back here after being away so long," I said.

"That's unfortunate. I really like the feel of this town. It's very… aromatic," Erika said.

"Is there any city you don't like?" I wondered. Even Celadon is relatively urbanized, and she still praised it for the local flora.

"I don't like Fuschia, as a matter of fact. The place is one great tourist trap. And hot, and dry too."

"Never been."

"Really?"

"I've only been to Vermillion and north. Never south."

"You wouldn't like Fuschia either, I'm guessing. Maybe Cinnabar."

Our conversation continued all the ten minutes it took to find Treyarch's. The diner was nestled between two big, modern retail stores. Treyarch's looked like an old bug squished between them. The architectural dissonance looked ugly, but I saw plenty of shoppers hopping over to Treyarch's, so it must be good for business. From a distance, the interior looked pretty packed.

"Hope we have enough time." We made our way over.

Inside was just as homely as seven years ago, if more crowded. Luckily the line moved at a respectable pace. We waded into the melee of people, hoping I was actually in a line and not standing behind a random bystander. The crowd was crushing, with no order whatsoever for those waiting to order and those rushing to find a seat. Erika said she wanted to try a different line and I lost track of her. It was hard enough to keep my own spot and peruse the menu board.

The menu's different, I noted. They have salads and sicilian pizzas now. Sushi burgers were gone, though.

"Hi. Can I take your order?" the cashier asked.

"I'd like, um.. a macaroni salad and some water," I said, tentatively.

"Will that be all?"

"I'd like a Treyarch Club combo with a dash of stubborn and side order of cuteness," came a voice directly behind me. A hand landed on my shoulder.

I whirled about, shocked and speechless.

"What a coincidence."

"Morty! Why are you here?!"

The guy was decked out in hiking gear, with sweatband over his forehead and a tight-fitting t-shirt over his toned chest and abs. He was sweaty and smelly and oh-so-manly looking at the moment. It made me want to puke.

"That's my line!" he said, grinning. I frowned. "Hey, I promised to leave you alone. I can't help it if you come barging into my hometown and visit my favorite diner. So let me ask, why are you here?"

"You, you-"

"Is it because you miss me?" Morty asked.

"You insolent jerk!"

"Excuse me, are you together?" the cashier asked.

"Yes!" and "No!" rang out in unison.

"Yes, we are. I've got the bill," he told the cashier.

I grabbed him by the arm.

"I've got the bill," he insisted, in a low, patronizing tone towards me.

"I will not-"

"Just how much do you have in your wallet?" he asked. It might as well have been a rhetorical question.

"Ten-" 10,000P? Nope, only half of that, 5,000P. The macaroni salad cost 600P alone.

"Fine. You can pay." Look what money does to people. Compromises their integrity and values, that's what. I hate money.

As we waded through the crowd towards the tables, Morty tagged along behind me. "Why are you in a hurry?" he asked.

"To escape you, of course."

He held up a numbered card to show me. "We're on the same order, so you're stuck with me, unless you don't want your food. I'll eat it, I'm pretty damned hungry."

"Curses," I said, deadpan. "Then find a table for three." To my surprise, he already had. A booth, actually, hidden away in a corner.

"Expecting company?" he asked.

"I'm here with Erika. And to answer your question, we're just on our way through, we have a train for Blackthorn to catch in 45 minutes."

"Oh, the ever lovely Erika is here. I must have missed her."

"45 minutes. Don't waste my time. I'll have you pay for new tickets if we're late."

"Gladly. Ah, there's Erika!" He's not taking me seriously.

"Oh, a pleasure to see you again." Erika greeted Morty with a brief hug.

So there we were, sitting, eating, and chatting amicably, as if this wasn't some contrived coincidence of the gods.

The conversation was very ordinary and mainly consisted of catch up. Erika explained that she was staying in Olivine for a few months, and Morty complained about how boring his gym was recently. He'd been hiking this morning just to get out of the stuffy place. I avoided the topic of probation and fed him stories about Amphy, who was becoming more and more of a hassle to deal with.

"So, I can't imagine you came to Ecruteak to talk with me," Morty said, proving he wasn't as oblivious as he let on. "What brings you to this old piece of real estate?"

"We're passing through. I'm on my way to Route 45 to catch a new team member."

"Skarmory?" Morty guessed.

"Whah? How'd you guess?" I wanted to keep it a secret from him.

"It's the only Steel type out there," he explained.

"I'm not obligated to use all Steel types!"

"No, but what's the point of being a Steel-type specialist when you only have three or four of them? You have more Electric types than Steel types, if I remember correctly."

"You're right," Erika answered for me. "She also has just as many rock and grass types. She's a regular rainbow for someone who considers herself a Steel purist."

"Erika!"

"What? It is your fault."

"Yes, one which I am rectifying with this very trip!"

"So, who'd you bring to help you?" Morty asked.

"Everyone." My purse was sagging from the weight of ten pokeballs. Even Magcargo and Sunkern had joined the expedition: I had made a point of requisitioning them from my parents. "Except Ampharos, of course," I added. With his mood dive-bombing, I doubt Amphy would come even if he was allowed.

"You can fit everyone in there? How many do you have?"

"Ten," I answered. I placed them, one by one, on the table. I pointed out each in turn. Mentally, I was tallying their types. To my dismay, Erika and Morty's assertions were correct: I was all over the board. I thought I had at least four steel types on my roster, but apparently I've been including Pineco in that tally. I'll need to evolve her first if I want to count her as a Steel-type, though.

Morty eyed them over, counting and contemplating.

"Only ten? That's all? That's your whole roster?" he questioned.

"Yeah. How many do you own?" I asked.

Morty sat back, closed his eyes and began mumble-counting.

"Forty-three," he said at last.

"Forty-three!" I looked over to Erika.

"That's a bit more than me," she told me. "I'm not surprised though. To be as good as Morty, one typically needs a large collection."

"Oh really. How do you take care of them all?" I asked.

"PC stasis, mostly," Morty said offhandedly.

His hands began flicking at my pokeballs. Remembering his penchant for juggling other's property, I scooped the lot of them up and set them on the seat, out of his reach.

"Stasis? That's cruel. That's cold and cruel," I said.

"Hey, you aren't one of those people?" he asked accusingly.

"One of those people who don't like Pokémon being treated like robots? Yes, yes I am."

Morty shook his head.

"Bleeding heart, I swear. See, Pokémon have no conception of time while in stasis. The only time that matters to them is when they're fetched out, that's when they're living their life. It's not like they feel like they're imprisoned in a computer or something. It's like sleeping. Even proven to increase their lifespan. It's a scientific fact. Read PokeGeographic sometime."

"Doesn't matter!" I fired back. "It's not about the Pokémon, it's about their trainer being a callous master who doesn't care enough to tend to them."

"Eh…" he leaned back.

"Erika?" I turned to my friend for support.

"You both seem to have good points," she said simply.

"That's not how you back up a friend."

"How am I supposed to do that, exactly?"

"You say I'm right and he's wrong."

"I think I should make a terrible friend if I was dishonest," she said calmly.

"Come on, just back me up here."

"I'm afraid I can't conscientiously do that," and she shrugged.

"You're mean."

"You think if she treated humans half as nicely as Pokémon she wouldn't be so unpopular," Morty said. Erika laughed aloud.

"Who says I'm unpopular? I get plenty enough attention from the men," I exclaimed.

"That's because your looks cater to certain fetishes," Morty said, reaching over to hold me by the chin. The same appendage quickly found itself pinned to the table by an elbow.

"Pedo."

"Ephebo, technically. Could you release my hand please?"

"There's no difference. No. How can you be so good at steering topics towards the carnal?"

"Pedo refers to young children, ephebo is young but sexually mature women. Pretty please? And the answer is practice."

"That's not very lady-like," Erika noted. Regretfully, I let him have his hand back, which he began nursing.

"You're saying I get so many suitors because of…" and I made a cupping motion across my stunted cleavage.

"There is a sizable demographic for it," Morty said. The fact that he practically admitted the fetish for himself, in such a calm, analytical manner pissed me off. TO NO END.

"You're blushing," Morty told me.

"No, I'm not."

"Yes you are."

"You are too," Erika added.

"I am fuming. There's a difference."

"When it comes to you? No there isn't. You don't fume when you're mad, you do when you're flustered about something sexual. Like your chest size."

"That's not true."

"That reminds me of a joke Whitney once told her," Erika pitched in. "We were discussing the difference between the well-endowed and the not-so-well-endowed. Whitney explained it was a matter of curvature. Stacked breasts are only as large they appear, but small bumps are actually only the tip of an enormous hidden knocker."

"How did Jasmine react?"

"Red as a rose."

Morty nodded in a knowing manner.

"What's with the frown?" he asked me. "You don't have breast envy, do you?"

"Hardly!" I tried gathering my argument, but it was difficult because it wasn't easy to explain in one short comeback line. I held up a hand for silence.

"I don't have 'breast envy' nor do I care. I'm simply irritated that breasts are considered a sexual asset of any caliber, and even more irritated that such crass jokes as that exist. As if the "not-so-well-endowed", as Erika so kindly puts it, should need the comfort of such jokes. It's a terrible indictment against society that young women derive their self-image from the size of their mammary glands."

"Have you ever considered joining a debate team?" Morty asked.

"Don't you dare undercut me!" I cried.

"It doesn't matter how angry she gets, it just adds to her charm! It's seductive, it really is. She's a real succubus," Morty said to Erika, ignoring me completely. I rapped him on the arm, to get his attention.

"Definition of Sarcasm: disguising insults as compliments," I quoted.

"Irony: taking compliments to be insulting," Morty shot right back.

"I hate to interrupt your little word war, but Jasmine, you ought to finish that soon." Erika nodded towards my meal. I looked at my salad, hardly touched. Worse still, my stomach let out an audible growl a moment later.

"Leaving?" Morty inquired.

"I told you, we're heading to Blackthorn."

"Hmm." That look- he's conniving. It's a conniving sort of look. Look at the shifty eyes. Hands behind his back. What's he doing behind his back? What's he got back there? Evidence of conniving, undoubtedly. Nefarious, insidious it is.

"So you're going to Blackthorn to catch a Skarmory. I haven't caught a new Pokémon in a while. A year or so. Sounds fun. Wish you the best of luck. But sounds like so much fun. Wish I could go," he said aloud. He leaned back into the chair, staring at the fan on the ceiling.

"But… I can't. Mmm. Hmm. Why not?" he continued. "It's the weekend. Gym's closed. Nothing to do, no one to do, no movies to see, no appointments. Man I sure miss getting out into the country. I just got paid too. Fine, I'll go."

"No."

NO!

"What? I'll be on my best behavior."

"Your "best" behavior is still in the bottom 10% of humanity!"

"That's too harsh. It's not like you can stop me, I have my rights."

"Remember what we talked about in the lighthouse?" I said. Erika piqued up- I hadn't breathed a word of me and Morty's late-night rendezvous to her.

"I remember someone didn't give me a hug goodbye," Morty said.

Me: Duel-wield facepalm.

"I can help you. I happen to know a little about Route 45 and Skarmory. It'll be fun. I can even show you this great little get-away. There's a nice swimming hole, and a terrific view. You can see all the way to Mt. Silver. It'll be great!"

He looked at me with his best puppy face- which itself wasn't much to look at.

"I wouldn't mind," Erika said.

"He's not coming."

"Why not?" she asked.

"Because! He's a jerk! He'll get in our way! Might I remind you, this is not a vacation, it's a business trip with a specific objective, and a wisecrack party-animal like him will screw everything up. He is not coming!"

"Too bad." Morty had his smartphone out and was tapping on it rapidly. "It's done. I'm coming." He turned the screen towards me. A receipt image indicated a ticket to Blackthorn.

"You can do that?" I asked.

"It's a smartphone, it can do anything."

"Can it make me a sushi burger?" I wondered.

"Yes."

"No it can't."

"Yes it can."

"No it can't."

"Yes it can."

"No it… we're not going to sit here repeating ourselves are we?"

"Yes it can," he repeated, grinning at his own insolence.

"Prove it."

"Already done."

"Oh? Where's my sushi burger?" I mimed holding an invisible burger bun between my hands. "Not seeing it." Morty remained silent, but unfazed.

 "Gah! Whatever, it doesn't matter, I don't want you to come."

"Too bad. I already have the ticket."

"Let me see that!" I snatched his phone away from him. "How do I cancel this?" I fiddled with the buttons and menus, trying to figure out the interface.

"Sorry, no refunds," Morty said smugly.

I returned to the receipt image, and sure enough, "No refunds available" appeared near the bottom in small print. Although, on second glance, this ticket looks different from the one I purchased.

"You bought a plane ticket," I said. Morty stared at me, not comprehending. The awkward stare continued for a few more uncomfortable seconds. "We're taking the train," I explained.

"Uh…" We waited some more for that to sink in. "Fuck! Give me that! How do I switch over! How do I…?! I thought-" he snatched the phone from me and frantically pounded at its interface.

"Sorry, no refunds."

"Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!" Five more 'damn its' followed, in escalating pitch, till he sounded like a little girl having an emotional breakdown. I smiled smugly, enjoying his anguish. Erika remained nonplussed, concentrating instead on her soup.

"Well, that's blown." Morty turned to me. "So, uh, wait for me at the airport? Well, wait, I'm on a plane, so I'll get there first… I guess I'll wait for you two."

"You could be there for a while. Train doesn't get in till 10:30."

"10:30? Okay, I'll meet you there and then, kay?"

"Sure," I replied. Our train actually arrived at 9:30.

"Oh, and doesn't your plane depart the same time as us?" I asked, smugly knowing the answer.

"Yeah… crap." The Ecruteak airport is much farther than the train station. He'd have to high-tail to make it to his flight.

"I'll be taking my leave then." He started to run off, stopped, and turned, only to find a napkin thrown in his face.

"No zingers!" I declared. "Just get out of here." With a stupefied look on his face, he did so.

"Come on," I commanded Erika as I quickly stood up. "He'll show up to the station late; we can ditch him beforehand."

We entered the restroom to take care of business and wash.

"You were awfully quiet back there," I observed.

"Self-preservation. The space between you two is not exactly the safest place in the world, figuratively speaking," Erika said.

"What do you make of this?" I asked her.

"In my opinion, I think you're too harsh on him. He's such a nice and level person to chat with when you aren't around, not half so uncouth by himself. It's only because you react so badly that he baits you. If you treated him like any other person- well, as far as you're concerned, as any other male would do- he wouldn't antagonize you so much."

"He likes me."

"Really?" She took the statement with mild surprise. "Are you sure?"

"From his own mouth."

"As in likes you, likes you?"

"To be specific, he has feelings for me."

"That's… wonderful! Why don't you date him?"

"Why don't I? Why should I?! Are you kidding me?!"

"No, not at all. I'm asking specifically what you dislike about him. He seems like perfect boyfriend material."

"Because he has a Y chromosome. That's all the reason I need."

"Oh good grief. If you absolutely had to have a relationship with someone, if you were forced, I think he would be your best option."

"I'd sooner die."

"He's smart, funny, handsome, he can be very caring and passionate. You're both very interested in Pokémon, and even if you don't see it, he deeply loves his Pokémon. I don't see what you have against him."

"HE IS A GUY! Can you not understand that?"

"Can't I? Are you really, truly, against relations with the opposite sex? Are they that abhorrent to you?"

"Yes! And Morty, he is the worst of them!"

"I don't believe that. I don't believe you even believe that."

"Listen! It takes more than a few nights of conversation to get to know him," I said. "I've known him for years and years; he's cavalier about every decision he makes, he's obsessed with his own pleasure and ego, and he never thinks of how his actions can affect others until it's too late, and then he says "sorry" like it means anything. Oh, and for him, everything revolves around sex."

"Oh I highly doubt that."

"Trust me. Besides, I'm really not fond of that cockiness of his. It's like he has an alpha-complex. Not one ounce of humility. It gets annoying."

"But you enjoy the teasing," Erika remarked.

"Do not!"

She shook her hands dry and drifted away, to hide an eye roll, I'm sure.

"He's too… too… I don't know. Too extroverted for me." I finished washing my hands and face.

"And you are introverted, my dear. Opposites attract."

"Hey, you know what matter and anti-matter do when they attract? Kaboom!" I splayed my arms outwards for emphasis, splattering my and Erika's faces with little wet droplets.

We made our way through the throng gathered by the door. I looked around, taking in Treyarch's quirky décor one last time. Hopefully it won't be seven years before I come here again.

"Let's go," I said.

"Miss! Miss!"

"Huh?"

I turned to find one of the café runners heading in my direction. She dodged several customers till she stood before me.

"Are you Jasmine?"

"Yes, that's me."

What could she want with me?

"Here's your special order. Chefs send their compliments; they loved that someone remembered their old recipe. So, uh, there you go. Have a nice day!" The runner handed me a to-go box and disappeared. I opened it up, baffled.

"A sushi burger?"

I ended up eating the sushi burger on the train. I have a principle that says I never take handouts, and also I do not accept gifts given out of spite or mockery. Principle was flung out the window after a half hour of hunger pangs. The burger was every bit as delicious as I remembered it.

"So why did we have to hurry?" Erika asked me. I finished picking bits of shredded shrimp off my lips.

"I told Morty we'd get there an hour after our actual arrival. With any luck, we can scoot out of the station before he wises up."

"That's not very nice. After he spent so much to buy the plane ticket just to spend time with us?"

"He's got a lifetime's worth of pranks on his ledger, I think I can be afforded one or two misdeeds of my own."

"Fine, fine." Erika sighed. "You know I wish you two would just kiss and hitch up already-"

"Eww! No!" I interjected.

"-but that's a futile argument. Still, why'd we have to leave the café in such a hurry? The train wouldn't have left any earlier."

"Because-" and I stopped short of answering. She had a point, and now I look stupid. When I found the real reason within my subconscious, I still didn't want to air it.

It was because Morty had gotten to me. He's getting under my skin, saying things about myself that I would rather deny. The bit about my fuming actually being hormonally-induced fluster: it was true. Back in middle school, I would shout and berate others upon any little mention of innuendo. I hadn't wanted anyone to know such things affected me, and by extension, to think I was interested in such things. It was immature of me, I knew, but embarrassment and pride do not make for mature decisions.

"I was a little emotional, that's all."

"Mmm. I see," Erika said. "By the way, I'd still like that heart-to-heart you promised me."

"Yeah, but not now."

"Of course not now, we're in public."

"Right."

"But sooner than later, please?"

I nodded, staring at the headrest in front of me.

The train ride bore on. The afternoon devolved into evening, the sun began setting, and we approached Mahogany Town. There was a brief stop, where we picked up take-out chow-mien chicken and noodles and brought it back aboard. Generally Erika was engrossed in her book, while I sat at the window, contemplating the universe and human misery. Our longest conversation was a three minute discussion on Erika's plans for the Olivine branch of her company.

"Maybe, in case you lose your Gym Leader position, you can run the shop for me," she suggested.

"I don't want to think about it."

The ride remained uneventful. It was utterly dark by the time we hit the mountains. A hand tapped my shoulder.

"Hello?"

I looked over my shoulder. An unfamiliar young woman greeted me. She had the appearance of a garden wife, and I noticed a pleasant, earthly aroma coming off of her.

"Excuse me, but I was listening to your conversation earlier. Do you work in the perfume business?"

"No, not me, my friend does. She runs an aroma and houseplant business."

"Oh really? Is it local?" the woman asked.

"No, it's in Kanto. Celadon," I answered.

"Oh really?! Do you mean Serene Grace Nursery and Aromatics?"

"That's the one."

"Oh! Then… Excuse me," the woman addressed Erika. "Does that mean you are the Celadon Gym Leader Erika?"

Erika looked up, a bit surprised. Her business was nationally famous, but she looks surprised to have fans. Her expression was bemused, as if saying, 'I've got fans? What do I do with them?'

"That is me," Erika responded.

"Oh wonderful! I'm in love with your products! Oh, and your battling style! I'm a trainer, a self-styled Aroma Lady, you see. Oh, I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Violet."

"Pleased to meet you, Violet."

With that awkward introduction out of the way, the pair launched into an hour-long discussion on every conceivable topic related to grass-type Pokémon: their behavior, which ones they liked and didn't like, the relative attractiveness of various aromas and perfumes, distillation techniques, their experiences in western Kanto and eastern Johto, successful experiments, and so on. I quickly ran out of things to contribute, so Erika moved back to sit with Violet.

I had just about tuned the flower-fanatics out, when Erika mentioned me.

"I think it's charming that she loves the scent of her namesake. I even bred her an Oddish with the scent."

"Oh that's neat. Jasmine, then was it? If you're not in the aroma business, what do you do for a living?"

"I'm a Gym Leader," I said, casually, not thinking it mattered.

"Wait, you're THE Jasmine?!" Violet exclaimed.

"Huh? I guess so," I replied, now carrying the same dazed look Erika sported earlier. The lady lifted herself out of her seat to speak face-to-face. I was forced to turn in my seat and stare up at her, a position that made me feel vulnerable.

"I've wanted to meet you so badly! Ah! Well, I didn't imagine I'd meet you here, though. I'm trying to win the Johto gym challenge, and I only have two badges remaining. I'd love to battle you, if you don't mind! You are, in my opinion, the best Gym Leader in the region, based on the stories I hear."

"I, uh…" I really don't know what to say about that. At the very least, Clair is better than me, probably Morty, Pryce, and Whitney, and Chuck might be able to beat me because of type advantage. "I don't think I deserve such high praise."

"Nonsense! Will you battle me, sometime? I mean…"

"I don't know…" I said, unsure. This was awkward.

"I mean, I don't know if you're getting off in Blackthorn too… Ah, but it's rude of me to just ambush you like this too, I should wait and visit your gym, shouldn't I?" Her eager joy faded to such sincere disappointment, it tugged at my heart.

"It's okay." I gave it a moment's thought. "If you want, we can battle tomorrow? I'll be in the area. It won't be an official match, of course, I'd need the gym facilities for that…" I double-checked myself. Yes, those are the rules. Official gym battles required the proper facilities, including working force fields, a pokerecorder for analysis and assessments, and usually an unbiased judge to officiate. The rules made it impossible to hold an official, badge-yielding match anywhere but the gym itself. I continued, "Unless we convinced Clair to let us use her gym, and I highly doubt it, we can only have a friendly match. Is that okay?"

"Oh, I'd love it! Any chance to test myself against someone like you… it's thrilling! Oh, and perhaps I could battle Erika too?"

"You sound rather eager," Erika said. "I can't turn down such enthusiasm."

"Forgive me, I know I'm rude and blunt. I… I'm on a journey, you see."

Erika and I tilted our head, noting the change in Violet's tone.

"What kind of journey?" I asked, hoping to coax her on.

She began talking, but without her kid-like enthusiasm.

"I'm from Goldenrod, originally. When I was young, maybe fifteen, I set off on a Pokémon journey. It was your typical teenage fantasy: finish the Johto gym challenge and fight to become a champion. I wasn't half-bad, either, earned three badges quick enough. Then I was… sidetracked. Life got in the way, and I had to give up the whole journey-thing."

"And then?"

"Well, fast-forward to today, and I've found myself with a lot of free time and many, many regrets. I decided to pick up where I left off, and try to finish the gym challenge."

"You sound like you've been through some tough times," Erika offered. Violet nodded.

"Yes. You could say I'm using this trip to push past it. It's not easy, you understand. He left me."

Erika and I remained silent, registering what had been confided to us.

I didn't know what to say. Should we just pretend she hadn't revealed that? Or tell her unfelt words of condolence?

"No worries. You are doing exactly what you need to be doing. There will be happier times," Erika said.

"No worries here. It hurts, sometimes, but I feel like it's getting better. Well, since I found myself free, I wanted to pick up where I left off- and maybe try to get past this… this last part of my life."

I nodded.

To comfort and care for someone… sometimes I find it so difficult to show them. I have trouble mustering such feelings for people, strangers and friends alike. There are times when I logically know I should care, but I can't muster the emotions. It's a defect of mine, and it makes me feel terrible. Even when I do put my heart out for someone, I don't know how to express it properly, because I have so little experience.

There was no trouble in relating to this woman, though. She was wronged by a man, that is something I can really sympathize with. I want to show I care, but what can I do for this lady?

"If it means anything to you, then I will battle you, tonight. And I will find a way to make it count as an official match, if I can," I said. That should be good, right?

"Oh… that's too much, too kind. Thank you."

"You came from Ecruteak, didn't you? Does that mean you managed to beat the Gym Leader there?"

"Ah, yes, it was not too difficult."

She beat Morty, which means I shouldn't underestimate or coddle her. If I lost, so be it, it will help her feel more confident. If she lost, I can always offer an invitation to my gym.

I reached over, telling her, "I've got my whole team ready, they're right…" and paused. My pokeballs weren't in my purse. "Maybe I stashed them with the spares," I said, referring to the heap of empty pokeballs I was going to try to catch Skarmory with. They weren't there either.

"Erika, have you seen my pokeballs?"

"They were in your purse, last?"

"They're… oh, shit." Not even the embarrassment of being caught cussing could override this feeling of sudden panic. "I left them at Treyarch's."

"You left them?" Erika asked.

"Who is Treyarch? Are they riding along with you?" Violet looked about the train's interior.

"I left my Pokémon team in Ecruteak. I lost them," I said, dumbly.

'Oh shit!' indeed.

…

"Jasmine, don't panic." Erika said.

Eyelids: stretched back. Eyes: bulging. Chest: heaving. Body: shivering. Hairs: standing on end. Skin: covered in goose bumps. Mouth: hyper-ventilating. Mind: panicking.

"Breath," she implored me. "Don't think about what may have happened to them. Don't fear. Don't stress. Think only about solutions. Think about how we can fix this."

HOW THE FUCK ARE WE GOING TO FIX THIS?!?!?! THEY'RE ALL AT THE TABLE, SURROUNDED BY STRANGERS, THREE HUNDRED MILES AWAY! ANYONE COULD TAKE THEM! A THIEF, A CROOK, A PERVERT! WHAT IF THEY GET OUT? WHAT IF SOMEONE LETS THEM OUT? THEY'LL BE SURROUNDED BY STRANGERS AT NIGHT AND WON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO! WHAT IF THEY'RE LOST? WHAT IF THEY'RE IN DANGER?!?! HOW AM I GONNA FETCH THEM? WHAT IF I NEVER SEE THEM AGAIN?!

I looked up. Erika was staring at me with fearful eyes. Or rather, I saw the fear in my own eyes reflected in hers. I was shaking uncontrollably; my arms, though I tried clutching myself, spasmed outward in pained jerks. Kaleidoscope-like thoughts conjured images of ten pokeballs, tossed in a garbage, pawned by a street thug, smashed beneath a truck tire. Ten little souls, abandoned.

"Where are you going?" Erika asked, as I slowly got to my feet.

"I'm going to stop the train," I said.

"Do what?"

"I'm going to stop this train. I'm going to make it turn around."

"How? Wait!"

"I don't know. The emergency lever."

"No! Stop! Violet, help me!" Erika frantically asked Violet. The two of them grappled with my limbs- I didn't care, I clawed and shoved and hit my way free, before being tackled to the ground. Other passengers jumped to their feet, trying to figure out what was going on.

"Let go of me!" I screamed.

"Think! Calm down and think rationally!"

"I'm going to turn this train around damn it, so let go of me!"

"No! I won't have you going to jail!"

"Let go! Let go! LET GO! I swear if I have to derail this train I will get my Pokémon back!"

"I can't let you do that!"

"Why not! They're my Pokémon! My Pokémon!"

"I know you care about them, but you can't sabotage a public vehicle!"

"I don't care! I don't care who I inconvenience, I want my Pokémon back now!" I screamed and writhed and tried every convulsion known to the human anatomy to try to break free, but the two women's weight pinned me like a bug on a board.

"Why the fuck do you have to get in my way! Get off me you bitches!"

"We can work something out. We'll call the Ecruteak police, we can think of something that will actually work. But please, calm down!" Erika was near in tears. Serves her right for assaulting me.

"DING! This is the conductor speaking. We are now approaching Ice Path Station. We'll be making a scheduled stop until traffic on the Icicle Line allows us through. This shouldn't be more than fifteen minutes, and we will probably arrive on time. No promises though. So just hold tight and I'll update you folks in a few."

"The conductor! If I speak with him, he'll listen! He'll turn the train around!"

"They're not going to turn the train around for you!"

"Fine!" I went limp for a moment. Erika and Violet relaxed, giving me the opening I wanted. I burst out and leapt towards the back of the train. The two women gave chase.

By the time I reached the caboose, the train had begun slowing. We were approaching the station, a collection of lights far down the other end of the train.

"Wait! Stop!"

I ignored Erika's pleas. Anxiety gripped my whole being- though it was much stronger than what the word 'anxiety' implies- it was more of a mortal fear.

Steelix. Magneton, Magnemite. Magcargo, Choir, Graveler. Sunkern, Pineco, Oddish. Voltorb. My ten Pokémon flashed before my eyes. Even as the train wheels screeched to a halt, I jumped off the hind rail and began sprinting.

Erika appeared at the rail.

"Where are you going?!" she cried.

"To get my Pokémon!" I shouted.

"You're going to run back? All the way to Ecruteak?!"

"If I have to!"

"Stop! Please stop!"

"Why? WHY?!?! They're my Pokémon! Even if I have to marathon the equator, I'll get them back! Do you know how much I care about them?!?!"

"YES!" Erika finally blew her top, screaming back at me. The train had come to a stop, and now Erika, and Violet behind her, were framed by the narrow silhouette of the doorway. Their figures diminished, further and further, as I continued running into the darkness.

"Yes! I know how much you care about your Pokémon! I know how you love them! But I care about you just as much as you care for them!"

I trotted to a halt, looking back at her.

"You're like a sister to me! Like family! And I'm about to wretch because my sister is doing something really stupid right now and is just going to cause more trouble without ever bringing her Pokémon back to her! And I think of those Pokémon, and they're in a diner and even though I'm afraid for them, I still hope that the restaurant staff would have the mind to pick up the pokeballs and set them aside, safe and sound- but then I think of my stupid little sister running off into the wilderness in the dark, miles and miles away from civilization, and I'm terrified! Terrified! So come back here before you kill me!"

I stood, breathing heavily, not having the oxygen in my brain to think clearly.

Another figure, one of the train operators, appeared at the doorway.

"Misses, is everything alright?" he asked. He looked out, spotting me in the dim fringe of light. "Oh, hey! You should use the side exits, miss! It's dangerous on the tracks at night!"

I couldn't make out Erika's face. But, I could hear her. She was sobbing.

"Is everything alright? Is anyone hurt?" the operator asked.

I walked back, slowly, extreme trepidation and physical exhaustion addling my stride.

The operator helped me back aboard, looking confused and hoping for an answer.

"We will be fine," I told him, slowly, without politeness or reassurance. Violet filled in for me.

"There was a misunderstanding, sir, but I think we got it figured out," she said to him, and led him inside.

Drivels of tears marked Erika's cheeks.

"I'm… I'm…" I tried saying sorry, but couldn't. "I'm scared," I said instead.

"Why do you do this to me?! Of course you're scared! I'd be too, if I lost the most important person in the world to me. But won't you think of my feelings at all?" Erika cried.

The most important person to me? Amphy came to my mind. But, he's safe. Besides, he's a Pokémon. Pokémon aren't people, they're creatures. But to me, maybe that makes them all the more important. They don't hurt me like people do. They give me joy when people bring me nothing but nuisance and sorrow. I have ten Pokémon I care for more than any human in this world.

And so, not thinking it through, I said something I would regret for a lifetime.

"If I had to choose between my Pokémon and you, I'd choose my Pokémon, every time, no matter what."

Erika stared at me in shock, for a moment, and as soon as the words left my mouth, I knew I was wrong.

Yet, to my utter surprise, Erika grabbed me in a hug. "That… that hurts, Jasmine." she said. "But I understand. I won't ever make you make that choice."

Was it that easy for her to forgive me? That was the meanest, most spiteful thing I've ever told someone, and she can just let it go, with just a hug?

She parted her embrace, took my hand, and led me back to our seat. Violet was just finished feeding some fib to the operator and other passengers. Something to put my little freak-out in a better light.

I, myself, was consumed by all manner of emotions. None made sense, and none convinced me the situation was any better than before. What helped, though, was the running. The surge of adrenaline that had pushed me over the edge a few minutes before had been purged by physical exertion. I stared about the cabin, in a daze, coping with conflicting thoughts and sore nerves.

Erika was busy with her phone. Violet kept an eye on me, asking me how I was feeling every few minutes. The train eventually started back up again. As we climbed into the mountain lines, it was not going nearly as fast as it did earlier.

My friend turned to me. She appeared composed, but the signs of recent drama hadn't yet left her countenance.

"I've made some phone calls. Someone will visit Treyarch's, and if they can't find your pokeballs, they'll notify the police. The PC Admin will put a flag out in case someone tries to upload them onto the system. If we have to, we can take a train or bus back to Ecruteak once we reach Blackthorn."

I nodded, comprehending, but not feeling better. I could only think of what could go wrong with each solution; and I kept coming back to the worst case scenario- my Pokémon, gone, forever.

"Jasmine," Erika said, trying to catch my attention.

I turned, staring her eye to eye.

"Don't ever do that again."

I gave her no answer.

"Like it or not, there are humans who care for you. If you do something that endangers yourself, you're hurting them too. And I consider myself one of those people. Promise me that."

She's right. I'm bitter and my pride is shot to pieces because of what I just did, and what I just told her, but I knew that I was wrong and she was right. It was only a question of whether I could bear to acknowledge it, out loud.

…

I couldn't. It was too much for me to do that.

"It's like that time," I said aloud, a dim memory reaching out to me. A painful one. A night spent sobbing over the heaving, deathly pale form of Amphy. The worst night of my entire life. Infinitely worst than anything Morty or any other male had put me through. This was like that. The same fear, the same inestimable mental torture. Perhaps the fact that I don't know what happened to my Pokémon now makes it less painful than back then.

I really, truly thought I was going to lose him…

Just thinking about that night, about how close it was, seized my heart. Six years on and the fear still grips me, even long after it's over and past, it still scares me. A tear came to my eye, and as it leaked out, it seemed like it took the flurry of anger and fear and negativity with it.

I don't know that I've really lost my Pokémon this time. They're simply not here with me. There's a chance I'll see them again. A good chance, actually. And there's something I can do about it. And this is my fault, not some unaccountable act of nature. This is not as bad as that one night, not at all.

A deep breath, try to clear the mind. Fail to do so, but at least, quiet the raging emotions down a bit. Let logic gain a foothold.

"You're right," I said to Erika. "I'll be okay now. Let's do what you say. How much longer till Blackthorn?"

Violet answered.

"Four hours. The conductor said there was a landslide that's causing delays throughout the mountain rail lines. We'll get there about 10:40 now. You'll be okay?"

I nodded.

"I know it's tough to bear, I've been through it myself. It'll be alright," she offered. I waved her off.

The mountains rushed by, nothing more than dark black lumps against a slightly less dark sky. Eventually it was just a solid wall of blackness, as the train weaved through cliffcut routes, with no sky visible. Sometimes a small lamplight passed by, illuminating towering pine trees and not much else.

I got it into my head that my Pokémon were probably snatched by the busser. He would be rolling through his duties, picking up plates and refuse, and wiping down the tables and seats. He'd lean down to clean the seat off, and find ten pokeballs stacked into the corner. He'd be surprised, look around, maybe ask a nearby customer if they knew anything. No answer, so he'd put them in his bussing tray. He'd hand them off to the cashier lady, and she'd put them under the counter, with the other lost items. They'd wait and see if anyone claimed them.

That would be the best case scenario I could conceive of. I'd have to turn around and high-tail it back to Ecruteak as soon as we reached Blackthorn. I'd march back to Treyarch's, ask for my Pokémon, and the cashier would smile and hand them over, happy to see them returned to their owner. The weekend itinerary would be shot, but this self-inflicted disaster would be over.

This was my hope.

The worst case scenario, the busser would pick the pokeballs up, and keep them for himself. Or pawn them off to a thug, or Team Rocket, for quick cash. Beyond that- I didn't want to think about it.

Lights began appearing through the tree line. We were approaching Blackthorn. It was time to get up and try to get some action into motion. My muscles felt drawn, wasted. I wiped my face, feeling the salted residue of tears. Had I cried?

"We're here," Erika said. "Come, let's go to the lobby. We can ask for help from there."

Reluctantly, I picked myself up. The car was packed with bustling people. The delay and late arrival meant no one else was especially chipper. Aching joints and sleeping limbs abounded. My miserable self felt right at home. No one paid me any heed for the scene I had created earlier, thankfully. We filed off the train, one by one, out into the night. In darkness, pretty much every city looks the same.

"Are you going to be okay?" Erika asked yet again.

"As soon as I see my Pokémon." How long would that take? A day? More? Ever? I limped on, head bowed.

The lobby was busy, but only in that all the ex-passengers flowed towards the exit; there was barely anyone standing around. We didn't so much walk as get pushed forward by the human current. A hand tapped my shoulder. I looked up, to my left, finding Erika smiling. She pointed towards the end of the lobby. I turned to see a singular human standing still amongst the moving background. A man.

That's right, he was expecting us. We didn't get to ditch him after all…

He looked tired, more-so than the other travel-lagged people flowing around him. His shoulders hung limp, and he was resting his back against the wall. He had the posture of someone who had just put in eight hours of hard manual labor. Erika waved to him. He spotted us, and with great effort, mustered a smile and a wave back. Then he held up a cloth bag. Inside, I caught the glimmer of red over white. Pokeballs.

...

…

…

"Oof!" Morty let out, stunned by the impact of my whole body leaping onto him.

"I guess I got my hug after all," he said faintly. I squeezed him tighter. He felt warm.

At last, I let go. He handed me the bag. I counted, all ten were there.

I looked up to Morty.

"You did this?" I asked.

"It was nothing, really," he said.

"How?" I asked.

"I had a friend send them through the PC."

Does it even matter how? I had my Pokémon back! I hugged him again. "Thank you," I whispered, burying my head into his shoulder.

Chapter Text

That night I must have looked like a Delibird, the pokeball-filled sack clutched firmly in my grasp like a pillow. The motel bed was surprisingly soft, but cold. Erika found me the next morning curled into a ball, wrapped in as many covers as I could lay hands on.

"Wake up sleepy," she intoned.

I did so, extremely slowly and reluctantly, while attempting to keep as many blankets on top of me as I could.

"Whyisitsocoooooold?" I tip-toed towards the restroom, wriggling in the cloak of blankets and feeling for the last vestiges of residual warmth in them.

"It's almost October, and we're in the mountains. You're not a morning person, are you?"

"Noooo." I then yawned for effect.

In the bathroom, I stripped naked and turned the shower on. It took a minute or so for the water to heat up, leaving me to shiver and dance foot-to-foot in the freezing air. Once the steam began billowing out, I jumped in. The shower was searing hot, just the way I liked it.

"Feels like heaven," I said aloud.

Erika knocked at the door. "Can I get ready while you shower?"

"Sure. Just close the door." I like it when bathrooms steam up, so when you get out of the shower, it's still warm and humid and comfy. I don't get that pleasure in my apartment, the hot water doesn't last long enough.

"So what's the plan for today?" Erika asked, busying herself at the sink.

"Morty's insane if he thinks we're going swimming. It's so cold! Why is Blackthorn freezing and Olivine still thinks it's mid-summer? Altitude cannot possibly explain the dif- oh, the plan? I got a map from the Pokémon ranger website; it has the population density for Skarmory. We'll just set out for the most convenient nesting ground."

"I see."

"Did you talk to Morty?"

"Yes, he's still in bed."

"Pfft. Typical of him. You know, with all that occult crap he does at night, it's a wonder he gets any sleep at all."

"I assume he gets just as little sleep as you do, miss-greet-the-dawn Noctowl."

"Shut up," I said, a little testily.

"I'm sorry," she replied.

I turned face-first into the stream, simply taking in the feeling of hot liquid cascading down my cheeks, hair, shoulders, back, and breasts. I stood there, eyes closed, doing nothing; just listening and feeling and contemplating existence as a creature of pure sensory and zero intellectual capacity.

At length, I opened my eyes and looked down at myself.

"I'm naked," I said aloud.

I looked at my nude self and wondered, is this actually enticing to men?

I see this sight every single day and think nothing of it. It's weird, actually. I, and every other sensible human being, would be mortally ashamed to be caught naked anywhere else. It's embarrassing enough to simply be in the presence of another naked human. But here, in the bathroom, it's so normal and so ingrained in our daily routine we aren't even conscious of it, let alone think of it in a sexual context.

Yet, what is normal and unremarkable for one person is blasphemy for another. What is it about men that drives them crazy at the sight of a boob or vagina, or hell, a bare belly or thigh or shoulder, for that matter? I don't get it at all. Is it really because of the discrepancy in gender? We humans seek and lust after that which is apart from us? Why? Because of instinct? Is it that simple? That's stupid. There ought to be parity between the sexes. If an image is sexy, a girl and a boy should be able to see that equally as well. But boys think of me in a sexual fashion, whereas I can't imagine the same about myself. Do boys think of themselves sexually? Or is it just girls' bodies they drool over? Does it work the other way around as well? Can even a hardened shrew like myself get turned on by a boy?

As example, Morty seems to think I'm pretty. I'm certain that, if it were him on the other side of the curtain and not Erika, the mere proximity to my nude self would give him a hard-on. I think, objectively, he's not bad looking either. Therefore, would I be horny if I witnessed him in his birthday outfit?

I tried imagining it, starting with his penis. A round, robust rod, probably erect, because in this imaginary scenario he'd be turned on by me looking at him nude. So, erect. The head is soft and smooth, while the shaft is sort of veiny. Some pubic bush, kind of gross, and balls, the whole ensemble laying there between his thighs.

I imagined cupping it in my hands, probing and kneading and massaging. A man's sacred treasure, there for my taking, for my pleasure…

…Nope. This isn't doing anything for me.

The image shattered, my hands fell down to my side.

Is it really only men who can take pleasure in visual stimulation? If so, it isn't fair. There shouldn't be a discrepancy between the two genders. Either men should be less horny or women should be more horny at the sight of the opposite gender's private parts. Either way would make my life a lot simpler.

Now, to be fair, it could just be me. At the gala table, I was the only one who hadn't "partaken", so that might mean I may be a genuine asexual anomaly. Strangely, that possibility alarms me. I don't want to be different; but I don't want to be the same as those apes, either. I wish everyone were like me, discerning and innocent. That's asking too much of the universe, isn't it? How would anyone exist if no one made babies?

Then… what?

Am I really different? I tried imagining Morty again, still starting with his member. I felt the same non-reaction, so I moved on to his torso. I didn't have to imagine that, though, I'd seen his finely crafted Oshawott abs, his sleek-yet-firm chest and shoulders. Mmmm… Aroused yet?... No?... Eh… Still nothing.  On to his legs, then: strong, beefy, always taking him to whatever faraway place in the woods for his next adventure. His back, broad, like a swimmer's, big enough and strong enough for me to ride on. Long arms, things he could carry me in, or wrap around me and hug me with. Hands- large, but surprisingly delicate, gentle and precise enough for caressing. And that face- maybe it was just his farcical attitude towards everything, but that meant he was always smiling, and he has a great smile. It was pleasant, to think of his smile and pretend he was smiling at me because, underneath his jokes and devil-be-damned demeanor, he cared. The hair, blonde, rich- oh my gosh it's so soft and dense and rich. Even during middle school, I would pretend to get angry over some little joke of his, so I could grab him by the hair, just to feel it, to play with it. And, my little fantasy rapidly evolving, I don't need that pretext anymore, and he's sitting watching something, and I'm leaning over him and just petting his hair all day while we make idle chit-chat, and we're having an adorable time together. He's not teasing or provoking, like usual, but we're whispering deep and personal things to each other. He sinks into the couch and I crawl on top of him, and our lips are mere inches from each other and he's caressing my bangs…

In the midst of imagining this was when I felt something on my calf tingle, and realized my hand had drifted to my crotch and was starting to play. As usual, once the sensations started, I couldn't help myself. Shame was temporarily set aside; my body demanded satisfaction, and my mind was too preoccupied by a gentle fantasy to object.

"Are you awake in there?"

"Ah!" Erika's voice yanked me back into reality. My body stood frozen in place, quivering, my genitals sensually whining, but the moment had been lost.

"Yeah, I'll be right out."

"Alright."

My innards faded back to normalcy. It took a minute to collect myself and then finish washing.

"Can you hand me a towel?" I turned the water off and took the proffered towel, wrapping it around myself.

Erika nodded as I stepped out. "That was a long shower, you look like a peach."

"Sorry."

She lay her hand flat on my head, as if measuring my height. "You know long showers make you shrink," she teased.

"Hmph!"

She can be so cordial and easy-going, even after our fight yesterday. I expected our friendship to be strained for the rest of the weekend, but not a trace of negativity could be found in Erika. She's the kind of person who can forgive and forget any transgression in less than a night's worth of slumber. That is what I love about her.

"It's not going to warm up that much today, so wear something long-sleeved."

"No problem." Skarmory like to hang out in thorny thickets and mountain crags, so I had brought jeans and a work-shirt anyways. My worry had been about overheating, but that looks less likely now.

"Have you talked to Violet?" I asked.

"She left a message last night; she said she'll meet up with us later in the weekend. I got the feeling she wanted to give us some space."

"Understandable."

I still owed her a match. Would she be willing though? No way to find out until I see her again.

"Here," Erika tossed me a pair of cereal bars. "Breakfast."

Washed, fed, brushed, groomed, and dressed, we set out. We knocked at Morty's door. A minute later, he greeted us, bleary-eyed and still in his pajamas. He took a massive yawn, obviously having just woken up.

"I'll be out in a min, just give me a few."

"I had a dream about you," I said.

"Really? Were we kissing?"

"No, you were sleeping in so I pounded on you like a drum until you got  your butt out of bed. Now hurry up."

"Getting a boy's hopes up, little witch," he muttered as he dodged back inside. He reappeared five minutes later, looking much worse for the wear. He reeked too. I wonder when the last time he took a shower was?

"I had the good grace to let you come and this is how you repay me? What a slob."

"Well, firstly, I invited myself, you never gave me permission. Secondly, this is what I get for getting your pokeballs back?" Morty retorted.

"I consider that paying down your karmic debt to me. You've still got a long way to go. Hurry up!"

"Don't mind her, she's grumpy in the morning," Erika told Morty.

"I know, I know. Ugh, its only seven. Another hour woulda been amazing."

"Too bad. We need all the time we can snatch."

I looked towards the southern mountain range, where Route 45 winded through on its way towards New Bark Town. Come shame or accident or disaster or the very end of time, I will have a Skarmory before the sun sets tonight.

"Let's go!"

Route 45 is known by trainers as the "Forever Hike"; it's the longest route of travel in the Johto region by a fair margin. A solitary highway travels the length of it, but most trainers avoid the road and use the Black River Trail system instead. Going from north to south, one can expect to spend a month hiking it on foot. South to north is notoriously difficult, because of the ledges and constant upwards incline. In fact, the route is regarded as the roughest terrain in the region, marred by heavy forest-growth, mountain crags, and whitewater rivers. Fortunately for us, we didn't have to go the whole way down it, only a fraction. Unfortunately, that fraction still left us with a six mile hike into the wilds.

"I'm so hot," I groaned. It didn't take long for the sun and exertion to overcome the cooler air temperature.

"Tough it out, dearest," Erika said.

I shielded my eyes to look around and pick out our position, then pointed to a distant peak in the east. That's our destination- Hatchet Hill. Reported Skarmory population: ~42,000, practically an urban metropolis for the birds.

"More of a mountain than a hill," Morty observed. "How tall is it?"

"6,700 feet above sea level, maybe 3,000 above the valley floor. We're still two and a half miles out."

"Right, let's go."

"Morty, have you ever been out this way?" Erika asked.

"Not really. Just Blackthorn. You?"

"It's my first time too. Don't you think it's pretty?" Her head was pivoting every which way, taking in the scenery. The upper peaks were pretty but also a little desolate. However, the river canyons were practically temperate jungles. All manner of Pokémon and flora made their home within the shelter of the canyon walls. Her gaze was focused downwards on all the curious vestiges of life below us.

"I guess, yeah." Morty's gaze was more preoccupied with the sky.

"Jasmine?" My eyes were glued to the path.

I nodded. "Dark Cave is over there somewhere," I pointed westward. "We had a class trip my final year of elementary school. It was our sending off present. I caught Geodude and Onix on that trip. Ah, here's a better view."

Hatchet Hill appeared in an opening between the peaks. After a pause, I continued leading us towards it.

The way there was not easy, nor uneventful. A pack of Gligar shadowed us at one point, often swooping in as if to attack. It turned from nuisance to legitimate danger when we approached a gorge. The cliff created a narrow path, maybe two feet wide, which we had to traverse. The Gligar began swarming directly overhead, landing on rocks and hissing at our group. I clutched onto Steelix's pokeball tightly, knuckles going white. Wild Pokémon are weaker than trained ones, but they have no concept of fair play- they often will fight to the death, often attack in numbers, and almost always attack the trainer first. The fact that they could knock me over the edge served to pique my fear.

"Gengar. Screech." Morty released his own Pokémon, which promptly shrilled into the morning air. The sudden ear-splitting screech startled the pack, sending them high into the air as if struck by a wave. They scattered soon after.

"Don't wait and let the buggers get cocky, you need to take care of them early. Wild pokes are more impressionable, less disciplined than trained ones, use that against them or they'll be all over you," Morty advised.

"I see."

It was nearly noon before we reached the base of the hill. While munching on our packed lunches I explained the situation, with a print-out map set down for the other two to see.

"We're at the base of Hatchet Hill here. The main peak is here- and all around the peak are smaller peaks and ravines. The name comes from a folktale, which says the peak used to be in a tree-stump shape, until a giant chopped it up with a hatchet into bits and pieces, until the head broke off and became stuck in the center, creating the main peak. The Skarmory like the place because the cracks and ravines and such give excellent cover. Plus, Blackthorn Brambles have the area overgrown.

So what I was thinking was, we can scale this ridgeline and make our way up to this crevice, which would be…" and I traced a finger up the actual hill's profile, "…there. That looks like a good hollow. If the population is really that big, I'm betting it'll be packed with Skarmory." I turned back to the map and found the hollow on it. About 400 hundred feet up the mountain.

"Let me see that," Morty said. He scrutinized the map for a minute. "Let's go here instead," he said at last, pointing to a much more remote crevice. It would be harder to reach, more than 800 feet upwards and having a longer horizontal trek to get there.

"Why? That looks hard to reach."

"Exactly. Do you want a run-of-the-mill Pokémon who settled for a crowded city-slum?"

"What?"

"You've done your homework, but you really need to do the extra credit too. It's simple, though- the stronger, smarter Skarmory flocks fight for prime nesting site."

"Yeah, I know that, they're territorial birds."

"So you understand that they'd go for the more remote nesting sites. Higher, harder to reach, more obstacles and more brambles. It's safer."

"No, I thought the best nests were in the center of the population, to be at the center of things and bully the rest of the flocks."

"Hahaha- no. They're shy birds, and have a strong paternal instinct. Their paramount concern is the safety of their chicks. A Skarm chick is a very frail thing in one of the most dangerous environments in Johto. Also, they just can't lay as many eggs as other species. So when you only have a few vulnerable kids in a bad neighborhood, as a Skarmory, you do everything you can to ensure their survival." Morty handed me the map back, tapping on his recommended destination.

"Interesting," I responded.

"So?"

"I kind of like that," I said, mulling this knowledge over. "Okay, let's do what you say."

We began our ascent without comment. Morty led the way, testing the footing and pathfinding for the best trails. I was immediately behind him. Erika took the rear. The way was every bit as hard as I expected, often requiring amateur rock-climbing feats. At one point we were confronted with an enormous gap and couldn't find a way around. I ended up calling Steelix out to be a bridge for us. It only got more difficult the higher we went, but we never seemed to get stuck completely. The mountain-climbing acumen of our guide could be thanked for that.

Morty caught me staring at him and returned a grin, seemingly reading my mind.

Isn't it convenient, though? Morty just happens to spring along on this trip, and then starts proving himself incredibly useful? It's almost as if he planned for this- to what end? To impress me some more? To act on his feelings for me? Knowing him, and knowing full-well his seemingly super-human intuition, I can easily believe he concocted the entire scheme in order to win my affection. Even now, as he holds a branch down to help me climb up, he's playing on my emotions. Well my dear Morty, it's working. My respect for you is inching upwards, a feat I didn't think possible. Notice I say respect, not affection. That's still light-years away. Seriously, though, you're trying too hard. It feels so uncharacteristic of you, where's the lowbrow humor?

I know it's coming. Any moment, some wisecrack about my bust-size, any moment now…

"There's one," Morty said, looking to the sky. A Skarmory drifted on the wind high overhead.

Sigh. I guess one can't invoke these things.

"Aha. Look at the color, too, it has the shiny gene."

"Mmhmm. That's pretty neat."

"Would you want to catch it?"

"No, I'm not really interested in having a rare Pokémon, just a strong one. Of course, it'd be nice if it had a good attitude too. Remember, I specifically need a Pokémon who will win for me, not just compete well. Victories mean more than a little ego boost now."

"They mean food, and clothes, and rent," Erika added.

"Are you hurting for cash?" Morty asked.

"No. Not yet," I answered.

"Kay. Because, if you-"

"And I don't want handouts. Yesterday's lunch excepted. Because I was hungry. Hunger does funny things to one's principles."

"Well, I apologize Ms. Governor. This way." Morty leapt around a massive boulder. "I need a map, and Erika, a Pokémon with Cut would be nice." We rounded the boulder, to see what Morty was dealing with.

No problem, it's only a ten-foot high maze of briars and brambles!

"And a compass."

"Don't have any."

"Then I'll… hmm."

"Why can't I use Magcargo for the vines? Will it hurt the Skarmory?"

"It could. It'd also alert the whole mountain that we're coming." Morty took the map. "And you don't want a thousand angry Skarmory on top of us."

"That's a lot of Pokémon. How do they manage?" Erika asked.

"They probably only use Hatchet as a nesting ground. They're not like Pidgey, more like Empoleon- they gather in flocks to nest but fly far out to hunt solo or in mating pairs. At least Johto varieties."

"Mm. Hey, look, another!" A silvery flash ripped by close overhead. I mentally went over the plan for actually catching one, and hoped that we'd find one grounded. I would have to think something up if they were all airborne.

 Victreebel was called out and proceeded to scythe a path through the brambles for us. It was a tight fit and I could feel the thorns clawing at the fabric of my clothing. From either side of us came the occasional rustling and clack-clack of sharpened beaks. That would be the parents, hunched over their  nests and the precious offspring within. I wasn't interested in orphaning newborns, so we steered clear of them as best we could. Victreebel's Cut snapped a stalk into pieces, breaking out into a relative clear passage.

I stumbled through the gap first. My face landed into a pile of straw and brambles, getting scratched.

"Kraw! Kraw!" A miniature Skarmory with big beady eyes squawked at me.

"Hi there," I said.

"Kraw! KRAAWWW! KRAAAWWW!"

"I'm not gonna hurt you. Not gonna hurt you," I said as softly as I could, holding my hands and slowly backing away. "Don't call mommy or daddy."

Another Skarmory, perched overhead, spotted me. It cocked its head and brimmed its feathers. Luckily, backing off slowly like I did seemed to calm it down. From the looks of it, it wasn't much older than the nestling.

"So that's big brother, huh? Looking after you while mommy's away? What a good brother." The sibling leapt on top of the nest as I made my escape.

We extricated ourselves out of the ravine. A slight flush came to my face. That was a little exciting!

"These are wild creatures, Jazz, don't underestimate them," Morty warned.

"Nothing came of it."

"I know, but if that was the papa and not the brother you wouldn't have a face right now."

"Oh well." I shrugged. There was a ledge ahead and I had to struggle to get up onto it.

"Don't just shrug it off. Be more careful!" Morty made a point to give my foot a lift.

"He's right, Jasmine," Erika said, helping boost Morty up in turn.

"Since when are you so concerned about my safety?" I asked, pulling Morty up. The assist ended up bringing us chest-to-chest.

"Since the day I met you," Morty said.

I rolled my eyes.

"I'm serious!"

I brushed past him and continued the climb.

"That's what scares me," I said over my back. "I don't need you of all people mommying me."

"Can't help it."

"Since when?"

"There it is." Morty pushed past me. He was waving excitedly at a nook in the balded hilltop.

"Since when?!" I repeated. Morty didn't bother to answer, instead skipping over boulders towards the nook. A care-free peel of laughter came from his general direction. "You want to set me up with that?" I asked Erika in a huff.

The nook appeared like a slightly parted mouth in the side of the hill. An overhang provided shade and shelter, while the lower ledge was created by a fault in the cliff-face that resembled a jaw. Bits of brambles and nesting material could be seen littering the cracks and crevices within. As far as security goes, I couldn't think of a better natural habitat. The opening was only two yards high, and a good twenty yards above the nearest navigable ledge. It reminded me of a fortress.

Morty had come to a rest at the base. Erika and I joined him.

"Any idea how we're gonna get up?" he asked.

"I don't know. Maybe Dakrai can blow a hole in the wall," I suggested.

"I don't have Darkrai anymore, gave it back."

"Oh?"

"Need another solution. Only brought Gengar with me, and he's not strong enough to lift us up."

"Can he teleport us?"

"He doesn't know Teleport."

"Erika?"

"I have Tangrowth. She may be able to create vines for us to climb."

I looked up at the twenty yards of sheer rock and imagined trying to scale it. The thought sounded terrifying.

"Hmm. Maybe not." Erika gauged the cliff face. "It looks too high, the top is out of Tangrowth's Vine Whip's range."

"I know how." I thought of a simple way to do it, but the thought made me nervous. Not just because it might be dangerous. "Graveler knows Rock Climb. She can carry us up there one by one."

"Oh, pleasant."

"Huh. Cool."

Erika and Morty stared at me expectantly while I did absolutely nothing.

"So, where's Graveler?"

"Um… How do I say this…" How does one confess to being a careless, unloving trainer to one's Pokémon, and then expect to put one's life in said Pokémon's (literal) hands?

"Well, let's… see what she thinks," I said nervously. "Graveler?" The pokeball went flying.

"Gav!"

"Graveler!" I knelt down on my haunches to face Graveler eye to eye. She turned away. I scooted over, to no avail. Our little game of Pika-boo ended when Graveler curled into a ball and refused to come out. "Graveler! Please! We need you! I promise I'll be a better trainer, I'll take you out to park more, and I'll even evolve you! Just do me this one favor!"

"Graveler!" Angry, uncooperative reply. I looked at Erika and Morty helplessly.

Erika stepped forward, touching Graveler gently.

"Graveler, Jasmine loves you, and she needs you. If you help us, she'll be forced to appreciate you. You are a wonderful Pokémon, without a doubt, and this is your chance to show us how strong and reliable you are." Graveler's only indication of hearing Erika was to roll upside down.

"Sorry guys," I said, slumping backwards into the cliff.

"Let me try," Morty said.

"Hey!" I cried out because he launched himself on top of Graveler, coming to a seat, as if Graveler was a stool.

"Hey there, Gravy. Things not going well? You and Jasmine in a bit of a row?"

"Grrrr. Gavavavar, Aragagga Grava," came the muttered and (to me) unintelligible reply.

"Oh, it's more long term. I see. You know, I can sympathize. It's not just you, though. You think Jasmine treats you poorly? Gee, she treats other humans like dirt. Always moping, always buggering out of social engagements, always back-talking and spouting pessimisms, always refusing offers of friendship, always being a killjoy. All her kindness is reserved for you guys, her Pokémon. So I'm really surprised to hear you and her don't get along."

"Graveler."

"Fine, no need for me to barge in. But, between you and me and Erika, you're awesome. I can see it. I can sniff it. I've got a gift for these kinds of things. So, you wanna get back at her? Do this. Help me and Erika up this cliff, and we'll ditch Jasmine right here. See how she likes that!"

"Morty! How dare you!"

It wasn't Morty's suggestion that drew Graveler out of her curl, but my yelling.

"I'm just saying. Always had the impression you treated your Pokémon better than us people; was I wrong? Maybe I'm right, maybe you need a little alone time till you appreciate who you've got." He gave me a wink.

"You Grimer! Don't you dare leave me here alone! I-" and without even a command, Graveler popped out, grabbed Morty with one set of hands, and whisked up the cliff face easy-peasy using Rock Climb.

THUD!

A half-minute later Graveler landed like a meteor, and immediately lent a hand to Erika. She took it, and up they went.

Just like that, I was stranded and alone.

"Hey! Are you guys there! Hey! HEY!"

Were they seriously going to abandon me here?!

"You cads! Don't you dare leave me!"

Five minutes of shouting and anxiety-mongering later, a vine rope dropped down. The rope was made out of three sections tied together. I tugged at it, dubiously.

"Tie it around your waist! We'll lift you up!" Erika called down.

"You sure it's safe?"

"The knots were tied by Tangrowth herself, I've played tug-of-war between a team of Rhydons and a Nidokings using a similar rope. That one didn't break."

I guess it's pretty safe.

"Come on up!" Erika shouted.

I tied the thing around my waist and thighs. As we lifted, the center piece dug into my crotch, causing some pain. I wish I knew how to tie a harness right now.

"Faster!" I yelled upwards.

"No, we're playing safe," she shouted right back.

"Faster! It hurts!"

"No!"

Strangely, the discomfort banished all fear. That, and the spectacular view of the afternoon mountains which was now fully coming into view. The peaks were like islands rising out of the purple-hued forest. Viewing such a vast swath of land, there was a level of detail that no painting or photograph could resolve to. Individual trees and boulders merged together to form enormous forests, hills, all untamed, all unmarred by civilization. It was surreal, breathtaking.

"Almost there!" Morty shouted. Then I was over the lip, and Tangrowth nestled me in its arms and stood me upright. The vine rope could not be removed fast enough for me; I needed to rub life back into my pelvic area.

"That really hurt!" I shouted.

"Why are you still shouting?! We're right here!" Erika shouted right back at me.

"Because I'm sore! And it's funny! And you're not funny!" I pointed at Morty. "And you're on chore duty all next week!" I pointed at a sulking Graveler, none too eager to see me. "And that's a Skarmory!" I pointed at an angry bird roiling its serrated wingspan.

"Oh!" Morty and Erika both backed away. Thinking back to Morty's advice, I chucked Magneton's pokeball out.

"Magneton, if that bird attacks, Thunder Wave, pronto."

Magneton let out a low, barely audible rumble. Sparks of electricity sizzled across its poles. Despite this, the Skarmory kept advancing.

"Brave, huh? How about I catch you?"

"No, don't," Morty warned.

"Why not-"

ZZZT! Magneton let off a Thunder Wave without warning, determining by itself that the aggressive bird was too close. The Skarmory flopped to the floor, partially paralyzed. I readied an empty pokeball.

"Wait!" Morty caught me by the forearm.

"Why not? He's got some spunk."

"I have a better idea. Listen."

"I'm listening."

"Shhh! Listen!"

It became obvious once the Skarmory settled down. A sound came through the brush of the nook, a frenzied raucous, the cries of many, many Pokémon fighting and screaming, the audible 'clings' of sword-like wings slashing against each other. The noise was very faint, coming from much deeper in the nook.

Morty motioned for us to stay quiet. He crept over to the paralyzed Skarmory, bringing my attention to the nearby bird. I noticed now that it wasn't struggling to attack through the paralysis but to open its beak. Its neck vibrated, but in spurts, and the only noise from it were gagged, guttural squawks.

"He's an old one," Morty said. "He's on guard duty."

"Against intruders?" Erika asked.

"No, against Skarmory." Morty motioned towards an innocuous pile of brambles. On closer inspection, deep inside was a nest of softer material. Inside lay the quivering form of a wholly unrecognizable creature. It looked like a deformed, featherless Spearow. Babies. Not even kids, like the nest I had stumbled into earlier, but newborns. They looked incredibly pathetic, weak, vulnerable. Just the appearance of their soft, pink skin made me want to scoop them up and pet them.

Morty waved me off.

"Don't touch," he whispered. He pointed, again, and again, and many more times. Once I got the knack of it, I managed to spot them easily. We were standing amongst dozens of identical nests. The next one held two more equally paltry hatchlings.

Morty explained.

"I read about this. That racket is the adolescents fighting amongst themselves. The females and the males get into big melees to determine pecking order- for mating purposes."

"Eww." I don't want to think about Skarmory screwing.

"They call them scraws, name comes from the sod they usually tear up where they have them. Anyways, these scraws get very violent, so the older, "married" adults stand on the edge and corral the contenders. This guy here is to guard the hatchlings, in case some flustered young male comes by and takes his temper out on them."

"Okay, I follow." The birds fight each other to determine partners. That's much, much, much simpler than humans. In some ways, I would almost prefer it that way. No backstabbing, no manipulation, no double-intentions or emotional breakdowns or unsolicited flirtations. On the other hand, it was violent, and just how voluntary were these 'scraws'?

"Let's go watch."

"We'll find my team candidate there?"

"Yeah. This is the nesting site of the strongest flock on the hill, and the scraw should show you the best Skarmory in the flock."

Morty waved for us to follow. The path required us to crawl on our bellies, and we still ended up taking thorns to the forehead. Work clothes were not enough for this adventure; body armor and a combat helmet would be more suitable. I brushed my forehead, and it came back with blood smears. At least it wasn't painful.

"Ow. How much further?"

"Long ways."

"OUCH! Why is this such a hassle?" A rock had found my elbow and this injury actually hurt.

"Skarmory have steel skin, this might as well be a silk-draped road for them. Didn't you study the Pokémon at all?"

"I studied all about their battle capabilities and how to catch them."

"Pay more attention to the behavior part next time."

"Roger, will do, now get your foot out of my face."

"Oh, sorry." The offending boot ceased blocking my view. "There's a fork in the path and I'm having trouble fitting."

"We could have used Tangrowth to Cut through," Erika said.

"Nah, don't want to chop up a nest. The density is too high. This is like Skarm-City downtown."

"Penthouses," I added, "if they really are the elite of Skarm society."

"Nice analogy."

We inched closer to the din, which increased disproportionately in noise level. The cliff walls caused the sounds to echo and re-echo, making it even louder than it really was. The nook, viewed from above, was really more of a shallow cave in the shape of a crescent moon. It was as if the legend's giant decided to circumcise the hilltop, but stopped 1/3 of the way through. Using that analogy we were approaching the fat center of the crescent. Using my old 'mouth' analogy, we were approaching the 'tongue' area. Either way, the nook grew larger and more spacious, and at last the bramble road eased up so that we could afford to stand again. By now, the noise of fighting was  as bad as a rowdy school cafeteria.

"Let's sneak up," Morty said. He needn't even bother whispering, we could barely hear his normal voice.

The brambles here were well worn and less dense, and it was not nearly so difficult to navigate them. Morty glanced above a hedge, then ducked back down. "Gengar." The gutter-minded shadow appeared. "Play scout for us," Morty ordered. The Pokémon slipped into the ground. It made off like a submarine, with only the tip of the head and eyes showing. A thin trail of mist marked its path. The owner waved for us to follow this trail.

"I love ghosts," he remarked. "So useful."

Apparently Gengar wasn't interested in getting us closer to the fighting, but circumnavigated the perimeter. Once or twice it backtracked, after coming upon a Skarmory keeping guard. A pair of adults blocked our path at one point and refused to move; Gengar used Hypnosis to put them out. We arrived at an alcove deep within the crevice. A pile of boulders were stacked against the wall, and Gengar was signaling for us to climb. The top presented a complete view of the nook's central area.

"Wow," I mouthed. Erika and Morty did likewise.

Too many Skarmory to count littered the clearing. Dozens were actively tussling in a great pile in the center. Razor-sharp wings were slashed around like untrained swords, clanging and screeching against each other. Hooked beaks grappled against hooked beak, seeking the necks of foes. No one bird could gain advantage before some opportunistic spectator jumped in for an advantage. Sometimes a group of brawlers would roll out of the pile, like a tumbleweed. Then a group of bigger, stronger adults would descend on them and knock them apart. Those who had had enough limped to the sidelines.

Morty pointed to different groups in turn.

"Those guys in the center."

"Where?"

"There." He was referring to a group of adolescents almost in the center, holding ground on a small rise.

"I see."

"Those are the alphas. The fact that they're there means they've already proven themselves. See how the rest are sort of struggling to get on the rise? And the alphas are keeping them off?"

"Yeah? I don't get it."

"The alphas are making a temporary alliance, testing the others to see if they're strong enough. When the rest give up the alphas will have more formal fights among themselves. See over there?" He pointed to another group.

"The females, I presume." These were sitting around, not on watch like the adults, but following the action closely.

"Yep. Those in front are the alpha females. They'll be watching the formal fights. Then they'll pick mates, one by one, with the strongest females getting first dibs, and then on down the hierarchy."

"I never thought of Skarmory having such a complex society."

"Pokémon are amazing creatures, even on their own, without human guidance." Morty nodded to himself.

"So I should wait and snatch the best male for myself?" I opinioned. Too bad, gals, I'm a trainer and we do what we do.

"Nope, you're not going to do that," Morty said. I eyed him with furled eyebrows. Why must he always contradict me? It's starting to make me feel like a pre-schooler.

Maybe you should look this stuff up yourself if you don't want to be exposed for ignorant! my inner devil scolded me.

Well shoot me, I had probation paperwork to get through.

"Just trust me, and wait."

The scraw climaxed, with scores of birds clashing. Losers and worn victors bowed out, crawling to the sidelines and safety of the elders. Only those strong enough to beat their comrades, fend off the alphas, and still have some stamina left were admitted to the alphas' ranks.

The young males took turns now, challenging each other. Each battle began with an excessive show of screeching, advances, feints, and displays of bristling plumage. Sometimes it was obvious who the more aggressive one was and the other would bow out. More often the birds advanced and feinted until a mad clash of wing and hook and tail ensued. The battles lasted only a few seconds each.

"Watch closely."

A few in particular stood out, besting every opponent. Gradually the losers departed the rise, thinning the group.

"Huh." Two in particular caught my eye. The first, not because he was any good, but because he lost every bout he had, but still kept in the ring. The second, a great, silvery big boy with a sharply hooked (and dangerous) tail, stood out for being the obvious leader. He began challenging the other frontrunners and taking them down or scaring them off.

"That's the new leader. Probably will be the next leader of the flock."

"I don't like him," I said. He screeched more than the others, often in his defeated foe's face, and would nip them as they attempted to retreat.

"He's strong, though," Erika said.

"No, he's a jerk. I want that one, the loser."

I was referring to the first bird to catch my eye. He was continually challenged and making challenges, but overall the other birds got the better of him. It looked like he simply wasn't aggressive enough to keep up the pace of combat. Still, no matter how much the other birds attacked, he did not give up. Even when birds took shots on him outside of the duels, he still refused to exit the rise.

I looked to Morty, who flashed a smile back at me.

"You catch on, don't you," he said.

"I don't know what you mean. I just like him. He's got tenacity."

The scraw finished with little fanfare. The silvered head-alpha lorded over the nearly empty central rise, leaping and hollering. The general tense vibe permeating the nook gradually dissipated, as did the spectators, adults, and wounded. Life in the colony returned to normal.

"That guy, huh?" While the other alphas were busy courting and being courted by the females, this Skarmory remained on the rise. Even when the victor left (to a considerable chorus from the females), this one remained. No other bird bothered him. The females completely ignored him.

"Aww," I let out inadvertently. I couldn't help myself, he looked so unloved out there.

"So have you figured it out?" Morty asked. I shook my head. "That guy may not be the strongest in the flock. Actually, he might be one of the weakest. Only got to the rise by taking more of a beating than the others. Kid's got issues."

"Pokémon have issues? Please!"

"They do! Even wild ones. This guy obviously wants to be accepted, but he's not strong enough to get any recognition. That's why you want to catch him."

"Oh I see." I nodded, finally getting it. "Give him some love and he'll work harder than any of these other birds to earn it."

"You got it."

"Heh. But I think you're wrong," I told Morty. "He's not weak."

"Oh, with some training, I'm sure-"

"No, he's tough already, very tough. I'd say he took three times more of a beating than any bird out there, and he still looks healthy to me. That Skarmory has some defense."

"Hmm." Morty took a long, hard look at the bird. "You could be right."

"I am right."

"So- hey!"

I slid down the boulder from our hiding place, right into plain view.

"It's dangerous!" Erika shouted.

"Hey!" Morty also yelled.

"You two stay put, this is my job. I can't rely on others so much if I want to be a Gym Leader," I said over my shoulder.

My target became aware of me when I was ten yards out. He leapt into the air, hovering and squawking at me, making a massive fuss. No point in sneaking anymore.

"You're coming with me," I proclaimed, holding out a Pokeball.

Time to initiate the Four Part Plan.

"Remember me?" I asked the Pokémon. "Maybe not, you're too young. I came this way ten years ago and tried to catch a Skarmory. It didn't work out so well. I've spent the last week studying it over and over, and I'm not going to make the same mistakes. So, the four part plan is this-"

The Skarmory advanced directly at me.

"One, no attacking me."

I chucked my pokeball, and the low cave was suddenly very cramped. Steelix completely blocked the Skarmory's charge. Steelix had already been drilled on what to do; the fact that the Skarmory could not escape into the air only made his job easier. My Pokémon curled into a protective wall around me. The Skarmory bounced off Steelix's armor, not expecting a 30-foot behemoth to materialize out of thin air. It tried strafing to find an opening, but only found a rapidly rotating spiked-ball joint. Realizing it wasn't going to get at me, it backed off and settled into a Roost.

"Two, start attacking, immediately."

Steelix began circling me like a cyclone. Its spikes dug into the ground, digging out rock and earth and sending them flying towards the Skarmory. The creature jumped in shock, not expecting a ranged attack. As soon as it was in the air, Steelix sprang forward.

"Catch it in your mouth and drag him underground!" I ordered. Easier said than done. Steelix caught the Skarmory in a Crunch easily enough, but the bird shrugged off Steelix's lockjaw as if it were a loose shawl.

"Tail Whip!" Steelix whirled its tail around, more of a Slam attack, but it got the job done. The Skarmory was grounded into turf. By now it was screeching and wracking its voicebox. Several other Skarmory gathered round. I watched them nervously, hoping my research held true.

The elder Skarmory watched us with great interest, but remained still. Good. Apparently Skarmory have a good deal of pride and sense of self-reliance. The others won't threaten me while I'm battling one-on-one; only if they feel they or their nests were threatened would they react. To them, this young male was having to "prove" himself by protecting the nook from me.

Turning back to the Skarmory, it seemed to get the idea. It ceased trying to call for help and instead used Roost and Iron Defense. Steelix's attacks weren't even ruffling his feathers now.

That's okay. Steelix's offensive was just to keep it pinned down and away from me. I could start the next phase of the plan. That is, assuming it didn't know-

"KRRKRKAWWWWW!"

"Ooof!"

You wouldn't think such a creature, with its sword-like wings and slow movements, could whip up a windstorm, but suddenly the air in the nook was blowing with extreme force. I was knocked off my feet, fluttering in the wind as if trying to swim up a waterfall- and failing. Even Steelix, block of metal that he was, was sent rolling. Miniature tornados tore through the nook, tossing and churning the sparse underbrush. The adult Skarmory watching over us were scattered out of sight.

He knows Whirlwind- interesting, but not unexpected, I thought to myself.

"Steelix, dig into the ground."

Steelix burrowed into the earth, slowly. The soil barely existed here, most of the terrain was pure rock. Bits of rubble flung up in the air where Steelix had excavated a tunnel. The Skarmory took this as its cue to counterattack.

"Part three, thunderbolt-proof Magneton, for me." Magneton appeared.

Magneton took the Skarmory's Brave Bird charge almost as easily as Steelix, and then  began shrouding itself and me in an electrified barrier. The Skarmory beat a hasty retreat.

"Leading directly to part four: Thunderbolt, to shoot at you."

Magneton let loose a barrage of bolts, glancing the Skarmory's limbs but conducting straight to the core of his body. As planned, they were low powered bolts, not enough to knock it out.

The ground churned, Steelix was on his way back. The Skarmory spotted the disturbance. He maneuvered to avoid the incoming giant.

"Thunderclip." The Skarmory saw Magneton charging for another attack and grounded itself, letting it take the Thunderbolts without fainting. In the meantime Steelix was nearly beneath him. The Skarmory was forced into the air. More Thunderbolts were unleashed left and right, barely missing- on purpose. Trapped between the ground and air by quake and electricity, respectively, it behaved exactly as predicted- it began flapping away.

"Magnet Bomb," I commanded. Normally, Magnet Bomb utilizes electromagnetically charged rocks to barrage a target. Magnemite had learned a different use for it, as seen last week. It took some doing, but I had Magneton learn the same technique from its junior partner. Its poles sparked, sending an invisible ball of energy straight at the Skarmory.

"Good job. Magnemite, you're up."

The Skarmory turned around and slashed. The air rippled with an Air Slash, aimed at me. I winced, expecting to get hit.

There was a cracking sound, but I didn't feel anything.

I opened my eyes. The Air Slash had bounced harmlessly off a mirror-like barrier. All I felt was a gentle breeze. Magneton had set up a Light Screen on its own, to protect me. "Thanks, Mag. Now-"

SHISH! SHISH SHISH!

The Skarmory wasn't finished. He circled my position, loosing off Air Slash after Air Slash. None of the attacks were effective, but they weren't meant to be: Skarmory was using them to pin me down and gain a route of escape.

"Jasmine!" Morty cried in alarm.

From his point of view, he wouldn't be able to see the Light Screen. He must be seeing the bursts of vacuum and think I'm getting hit-

"I'm fine!" I cried back towards him. Even as I shouted this out, another barrage of Air Slashes pelted the screen.

"I'm coming down to help!" Morty's head appeared over the lip of the hiding spot. I angrily waved him down.

"Don't you dare!"

"You need help!"

"Sit down! I've got it under control!" I screamed. How bloody patronizing can he get?!

Skarmory was nearly in the clear, with a straight path between the brambles and rises, leading towards open sky. Steelix was out of place, and Magneton and I were out of range.

"Magnemite, do your thing." The little Pokémon had zoomed to intercept the target, placing itself between the Skarmory and its freedom. "Now!" My pokemon hummed and vibrated. The Skarmory, sensing that its sliver of escape was about to be shut, resorted to the one attack that had seemed to work: Whirlwind. Myself and Magneton were caught off guard, being swept up in the winding winds. When I managed to regain my footing, we were both deep in the nook, and the Skarmory was racing for the exit and freedom. Magnemite was nowhere to be seen; Steelix was unearthing itself, but much too slowly.

"Jazz I'll-"

"Shut it Morty! Just shut up!"

Morty finally acceded and retreated back into the cubby hole.

 The Skarmory reached the rim of the nook. Nothing stood between it and open air. The adults could deal with the intruder, for all he cared. His wings spread, preparing for take off- but then it stopped. From its beak came an alarmed squawk, the pokemon suddenly becoming aware of an awkward passenger.

Magnemite had attached itself to the Skarmory's rear end via Magnet Pull + Magnet Bomb. The Skarmory was enraged, he roared and tossed and banged Magnemite against the rocks, repeatedly. Magnemite took the beating, hurt, but refused to detach.

"Time for the coup. Magneton, remember to reverse."

"MAG." A second Magnet Bomb was unleashed. The Skarmory looked up, expecting more misery. But Magneton wasn't aiming at the bird.

The Magnet Bomb shimmered, hitting the half-submerged form of Steelix.

No further effort from me or my Pokémon was required. There were two metal beings polarized by extremely strong but opposite charges, connected by a Magnet Pull ability- That's a lot of attractive energies in a small, confined space. It was only a matter of letting science have its way.

"KRAW! KRAW! KRAW!KRAWKKWKWKWK!!!" The Skarmory was dragged along the ground relentlessly, irresistibly towards Steelix. It unleashed Screech, and Air Slash, and many, many Whirlwinds, but to no avail. Even the cyclones couldn't do anything against the invisible forces at play, nor could they dislodge the firmly anchored Steelix. The trio of Pokémon struck together with a resounding CLANG! As soon as its motion halted, Skarmory tried to struggle free, but at that range, it stood no chance against the magnetic forces in place on him. He couldn't move an inch.

"Hurray!"

"Awesome!" Erika and Morty cried in joy as they both leapt down from their perch. We all gathered before the Skarmory, which was obviously enraged but completely unable to do anything about it. Morty held out a hand to me in congratulations, looking rather sheepish for his worry. I ignored the offer, instead flashing him a fierce grin.

"See? What did I tell you?"

"Well, I got a bit worried."

"Ha! No way. This plan is so good, I think I'll give it a sporting chance." I turned to address Magnemite and Skarmory. "Magnemite, please let go."

"Mag?"

"I'm joking, of course. Skarmory, you're mine." My grin grew wide enough to hurt my cheeks. Morty let out a little laugh. Erika took my side.

"But, you haven't caught it yet. Were you just going to haul it all the way down the mountain like this??" she asked.

"Of course not," I replied.

"Then how? You haven't actually weakened its health yet."

I held up the grocery bag carrying my pokeballs and misc items and grinned even wider. "I think I'll just chuck pokeballs until it gives up."

"That simple?"

"That simple."

Simple, but not without a certain amount of tedium. I chucked pokeball after pokeball after pokeball after pokeball. Skarmory would shrink and disappear for a second, the ball would wriggle, then Skarmory would bust out in a flash of light, resuming its magnetically-locked position. Occasionally the Pokeballs would bounce off with no effect at all. The cheap ones broke quickly, and I ended up tossing the sturdier Great Balls multiple times each.

"Ah- ah-ah!" 33 was the magic number; on the 33^rd toss the ball wiggled several times, then sat still.

"YES!"

I hugged Erika, Erika hugged me, Morty hugged us both, then we all hugged Magneton/Magnemite/Steelix. It was one great big ball of hugs all around. I think, for the first time in weeks, I have something to be happy about.

"Cheers!"

"To Skarmory!"

"To Gym Leaders!"

"Ahahahaaa….." Morty's laugh trailed off ominously. He was staring at something over my shoulder.

"Hey Jazz," he said nervously.

"Don't call me that. What?"

"The adults aren't too happy you caught their kid."

"Oh… Of course. Since I defeated and captured the adolescent Skarmory, the adults would no longer have any reservation about driving us, the intruders, off themselves. Right, so the plan is to Thunderbolt the-" and I turned, expecting to find a few irked adults.

Well, by my estimate, thirty adult Skarmory would be a challenge. I don't even know if Magneton and Magnemite combined could ward that many off with electric attacks.

Unfortunately, there were more like three hundred adult Skarmory surrounding us.

And they were angry.

Very, very angry.

"I think we disturbed them."

"It was the Thunderbolts, I bet."

"Their tempers are probably still high after dealing with the scraw."

"Well, this is a prickly mess we're in."

Sarcasm aside, we nervously backed farther and farther into the nook. I thought the scraw was noisy- the rising roar of the entire Skarmory flock put the previous din to shame. The eldest began making biting motions and hopping towards us. Amongst the forerunners I spotted the scraw-victor, aggressive as ever. The distance between us and them shrank from twenty yards to ten.

"Woa-" I tripped over a rock, falling backwards. Morty leapt up to catch me, preventing me from falling, but losing his own balance in the process. He fell forward onto his hands and knees. The Skarmory let out a vicious cry and leapt towards him.

"Thun- grr! Hiyaah!" I didn't even have time to order Magneton to intercede. Instead, I grabbed the grocery bag containing my spare pokeballs and flung it at the leader. The bird was blinded; it took crucial seconds to shake and then rip the bag off its head. By that time me, Morty, and Erika were making a mad dash to the very back of the cave. The Magne's provided rear guard using Spark and Reflect as best they could. It was a losing battle. We were surrounded on all sides by a veritable thicket of sword-edges.

Morty leapt up a small ledge, turning round to grab me and pull me up after him. Erika hopped up after. The two instinctively pushed me behind them.

"Shit," Morty cussed under his breath. The three of us surveyed the scene. It felt reminiscent of a medieval siege, countless enemies amassing before us, readying for a fatal charge. I could see still more huddled around Steelix, pecking at his exposed sides. He had become stuck on something in the ground, and couldn't defend himself properly. Magneton and Magnemite held the base of the wall, but were hopelessly outnumbered and surrounded. They fired Thunderbolt after Thunderbolt, but their stamina was running low. I didn't want them overwhelmed, so I withdrew them back to their pokeballs. Which left us isolated.

"This is bad," Morty said.

"What were you thinking? Did no one plan for this?" Erika asked.

"I don't - I didn't think there'd be this many. It's like the whole flock is on top of us!"

"What are you going to do?"

"I don't know!"

"Think of something, please!"

Erika and Morty stood unmoving. They both were far too mature and experienced to break down into panic, but I could see, in the shaking of their limbs, real, tangible fear setting in. If someone didn't think of a way out soon, we were doomed.

"Hehe." I forced my way in between the pair.

"PART FIVE, BOOBY TRAP THE POKEBALLS!"

BOOM! BANGBANGBAGNBANGBANGBANG!!!!!!

My friends didn't even have time to turn to me and wonder at my bold proclamation, before the cave was filled with intense flashes and choking smoke.

You see, that grocery bag did not just hold my empty pokeballs. It also held all my items. This included approximately 30 (combined) Smoke Balls and Stun Grenades.

Oh, and it also happened to hold a triggering explosive, in the form of Voltorb. Thirty-one explosions ripped through the place, battering, stunning, and dazing the hundreds of wild Pokémon.

"Great timing Voltorb!"

"VOLTOOOORB!"

I dashed into the smoke and confusion, fairly skipping across the bodies of confused and fainted Skarmory. Erika and Morty chased after me.

"Recall!" Voltorb and Steelix retreated back to their pokeballs, which I then slung into my backpack.

After a mad dash and narrowly avoiding several blind lunges, we were back on the rim. Beneath me was a thirty-yard drop, behind was a flock of infuriated Skarmory.

"We're trapped," Morty observed, deadpan.

"Morty, why oh why did you have to bring us up here?!" It sounded like a great idea; let's go find the most remote nesting site to grab the strongest Skarmory. No one considered the fact that we might have to escape said remote nesting site in a hurry.

"I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking."

"Implying you're capable of ever thinking."

Those birds that were recovering stumbled towards us.

"Welp, guess now's as good a time as ever to try him out. Skarmory, go!" My new, not three-minutes-caught Skarmory reappeared, every bit as confused and incensed as his extended family. Too bad for him, I was his trainer now, and his trainer wants him to Fly.

"KAAAAWW!" I grabbed him by the legs and launched off the cliff edge. There was no time, I prayed Erika and Morty could find their own way off. Skarmory fluttered and sputtered, vainly attempting to keep airborne with my weight anchored to it. Twisting backwards, I was relieved to find my friends escaping on their own. Gengar was out and dragged Morty into his shadow, then Shadow Sneaked down the cracks in the cliff face. Erika floated down by hugging her Jumpluff.

We were safe. I had a new Pokémon. And I was flying (sort of)!

"AHAHAHAHA! That was fun!" I said, throwing back my hair, still attached to a slowly descending Skarmory. At this point the pokemon was too exhausted to struggle or even verbally harass me; it was all it could do just to keep us from plummeting.

Morty stepped out of a shadow at the base of the mountain, looking like his balance was 90 degrees out of whack.

"That was insane! We could have been killed!" he shouted up to me.

"Your fault! All your fault! You should praise me, damn it, I saved us from your stupid mistake and I did it with style!"

"Don't try to play it off, Jasmine," Erika chided. She and Jumpluff floated above me and Skarmory. Their flight path was serene and smooth, as opposed to the jittery, semi-controlled crash I was undertaking.

"OOF!" I landed. "Haaa… Ha… ha… haha… HAHAHAHA!" I couldn't stop laughing. I lay on the ground where Skarmory deposited me and began heaving my chest.

"It's not a laughing matter!" Erika said, alighting on the ground. She's right, but I couldn’t help myself. The merry-making only ceased when I ran out of breath.

"Ugh." Morty was still recovering from the after-effects of the Shadow-Sneak getaway.

"Haaa. Hey Morty, what's it like going all two dimensional?"

"I'll tell you when… when… uhh… blurp," and he passed out. Erika kept watch for any Skarmory who might follow us. Fortunately, the explosions seemed to have cowed them.

I rolled over, to come face to face with my newest Pokémon. It's been a long, long time since I added a team member. Skarmory lay, panting and completely out of strength.

"So, were you worth all this effort?" I wondered. "Are you and I going to get along?! Because I'm going to depend on you."

Skarmory looked me in the eye, showing no recognizable emotion.

"Well, I promise you this. I will love you without question, without reservation, no matter what may come. So let's get along. 'Kay?"

Chapter Text

It was dark well before we reached Blackthorn. Morty lent me an Ether for Magneton, so that the Pokémon could use Flash to guide us through the dark. The man couldn't let it pass without bringing up the similarities to the gymnasium basement adventure.

"Well at least I know where the perverts are this time," I snapped back at him. Thankfully, the shadows concealed the fond smile I sported while saying this. He replied with a great big yawn.

At the motel, I looked through the brochures in the lobby. Hopefully there was a late-night fastfood joint where we could pick up dinner.

"Here." Erika pointed to an expensive looking place. I shook my head, patting my purse for emphasis. She lay her hand over mine in response. "Don't worry, I'll cover this one, and you can pick up tomorrow's lunch, at a cheap place. How does that sound? I want to celebrate your capture."

"Okay. Hey! Where are you going!" Morty sulked past me, heading towards his room.

"I'm going to bed."

"Wah?! It's not that late! Come have dinner with us!"

"Nah, I'm floored. You gals go on, I'm out."

"You're not just going to your room so you can wank off, are you?" I asked, a little perturbed. He deserved every bit as much credit for our success (and discredit for the problems!) as myself. I wanted him to share the moment with us.

"Wank off?! Hell no. Hey, if you want, you can personally see me," *insert massive YAWN* "drop dead onto the mattress. I'm not gonna move."

I frowned.

"Whatever. Go be a deadbeat. Jerk. Don't let Gengar eat your dreams."

"Woman, your insults are becoming ever more creative. And with that, I'm goooooooone." He stumbled the last few yards to his door, opened it, and vanished.

"Well that's disappointing. Not like him at all." I took out my phone. "Ugh, forgot to charge my phone. Can I use yours?" I asked Erika.

"Um… um… no… I think mine's dead too. We can use a payphone, maybe?"

"Do those things still exist?"

"Right… Oh, I know, you can use VOIP on the PC's."

"Ah! Okay. So, can you make the reservation for the restaurant? I'll go fetch us some company."

"You're being quite the social Butterfree tonight. Yes, I can arrange for a table. How many?"

"At least four, maybe more."

Erika went off to find a cab.

The Pokémon Center was close enough to walk (proximity to it was the main reason for picking this motel). Once there the night nurse nodded. Seeing I wasn't in a hurry, she figured there was no emergency and went back to reading a magazine. The PC, as usual, hung against the wall.

I tapped the screen to wake it up.

Please enter your password.

It needs my password, even for a call? I shrugged. Can't do anything these days without leaving a digital trail. I typed it in (Lighthouse69, no more kiddy relic passwords) and was greeted with the usual menu.

Who to call first?

"Eh. Guess I have to do the hard one first."

Calling… Calling…

"Hello?"

"Violet?"

"Huh? Oh…"

"Hi."

"Jasmine." The way she said my name- it was a little bitter, and wary. I couldn't blame her after yesterday, but that didn't mean it doesn't hurt.

"About last night… I wanted to invite you out to dinner, to make up for getting carried away. That wasn't usual for me." Me making excuses sounds so hollow. Still…

"Are you sure? I think it might be better-"

"I'm positive," I said, cutting her off. "I'm fine now; I'm actually feeling really upbeat. I still want to give you a gym battle as soon as possible. Would you be willing to come eat out?"

"Okay." She sounded reluctant. Do I need to convince her more? "Just say where, I'll be over as soon as I can."

"Oh. Well, it's Skyrim Tavern, just south of the Pokémon gym."

"Okay."

That was easier than expected. How much did that call cost me? I checked through the instructions- Nothing? Free PC VOIP calling comes with my Gym Leader's license? That's cool. Time for call number two.

"Hello?" came a low, annoyed voice.

"Hello, Clair. It's Jasmine, from Olivine. How are you doing?"

"…" Silence.

"Anyways, I was wondering if you would like to eat with me and some friends at the Skyrim Tavern tonight?" My voice fell flat. Even if we were part of the same league, Clair and I never really got along. It was too awkward for me trying to suddenly call her up, act cordial, and invite her out.

"So that's a n-"

"You paying for drinks?"

"Um… sure." Drinks? As long as it's not too much… Maybe if Erika chips in…

"I'm coming."

She sounded awful, but I didn't want to say anything, for fear she'd change her mind. Even if my party-arranging skills would mortify my mother, at least my plan was working. If only I knew more people to invite! Oh well, the important players have been gathered. Now to find my way over there. But first, let's check out my new Pokémon. Oh, and why not sneak a peak on Morty too?

"Magneton. Skarmory." I let out my old standby first, then my new capture. The odds that the latter would turn and attack me were 40%, I'd say, thus the former's presence. Would he actually attack me? Run away? How much training would it take to discipline him? Breaking in wild Pokémon has never been my strong point, another reason it's been so long since my last addition.

"Oh! How cute."

As soon as Skarmory's form materialized, it immediately hunkered into a ball and fell asleep. He's still exhausted from the day's activity, apparently. Can't blame him.

"You'll fit right in with Amphy. He's a snooze-addict too." I tried petting Skarmory along the back. His skin was devoid of down feathers. By his age they had all been worn to nothing, and his skin scarred into a tough metallic hide. It was a little rough to the touch, though. As he gets older, the hide will become even more worn, smoother, sleeker, and more aerodynamic. It's semi-well-known that elderly Skarmory are also the fastest, contrary to intuition.

At my touch, his head turned up to eye me warily. His beak opened, and he looked like he wanted to snap my fingers off. I jerked, and the gesture made the Skarmory flinch. His head and wings tucked themselves into a tighter, stouter ball.

"Impish? Or Bold natured?" I was referring to the genetic traits all Pokémon carry, genes that predispose them to a certain personality and physical weaknesses or strengths. Roughly 25 traits had been mapped out and arbitrarily named. This factoid comes courtesy of my probation homework.

I puzzled which nature fit him better. Either way, it certainly benefited the Skarmory's already noteworthy defense. For that, I was quite happy.

"Come on, we're going to the motel. You'll get to see your new home tomorrow. Come on! Come come!"

No amount of coaxing could get the bird to move, though. I resorted to picking him up around the torso. For his size and Steel typing, he was surprisingly light, although still not quite a featherweight. Regardless, he seemed content to let me carry him.

"My name's Jasmine. Jasmine. JASMINE. You're Skarmory. SKARMORY. SKARM-SKARM." I repeated the phrases over and and over.

"Kraw! Kraw! Skraw! Skrar! Skar! Kraw!" Skarmory let out soft cries every so often, while burrowing his head into his wing. Looks like he just wants to be left alone. Unfortunately for him, I've learned its best to start integrating a Pokémon into human society right away.

"My name is Jasmine. Jasmine!" I perked up after saying my own name. "Magneton!"

"Magneton!" Magneton pitched in.

"Jasmine! Skarmory! Magneton!"

We each took turns with name recognition. The Skarmory learned quickly enough- or rather, he learned at a lightning pace, but was reluctant to show it.

"I'm your master, you'll have to do what I say. You'll have to battle for me, and yourself, and your teammates. We're all in it together, to be the best we can be. It's like the scraw, only you're not just competing for girls. You're competing for everyone's attention, and praise."

The motel came into sight.

"You like attention, don't you? You like to show them you're not going to be taken lightly. That's what made you stand out to me. I'm the same way. I don't like to be put down, so I work extra hard to earn their respect. There's this one person I've been working on impressing. He takes me lightly and doesn't treat me with any respect. But we're going to show him, aren't we? One day we'll be better than him. Then he won't dismiss me when I say "NO!" to his dirty advances." Or if he really likes me, he'll finally listen and court me the right way, I found myself thinking.

"Here he is. This is him. Take a look at our arch-rival."

His window blinds were drawn shut, but a tiny gap at the bottom let me glimpse in. I kneeled down to gain a view, bringing Skarmory up to eye level as well. Morty lay in bed, splayed out like a gutted animal. There was no motion for a while, until he rolled over, limply, and pulled out his cell phone. From this angle I couldn't tell what he was doing, but it looked like texting or playing games. This continued for four or five minutes, at which point his head slumped forward and remained still. His chest rose and fell, slowly, gently, and I could imagine soft snoring sounds drifting into the air.

"Skraw." Skarmory cooed. He looked through the glass at Morty's form, then at me, then back, and then back at me. His beak lightly pecked my shoulder several times.

"You understand the issue, don't you? You looked lonely out there in the den yourself. No one respects you. No one accepts you on your own terms, everyone expects you to come out on their terms. Like, none of those lady Skarms even bothered with you, even though you fought so hard at the scraw. I bet you hated having to fight in there, but you did, and yet you still got nothing for your effort. It's frustrating, isn't it?"

Skarmory lay his head upon my forearm.

"Yeah. I kind of have that problem too. Not the exact same, but… you get my point."

I took one last peep at the party pooper asleep in his bed.

You sleep tight. We're going to have fun without you, pretty-head.

Cab drive: cry poor; fail, pay up, stare forlornly at little wad of cash left to me, cry, night-time drive through nondescript city, headplant on window, starestarestare, oh! giant dragon-shaped hedge statues! and they're gone, starestarestare, I'm bored, starestare dozingdozing-

"Here."

"Huh? Ah. Thank you."

"Just part of the job."

Tipped the driver, and my bundle of cash shrank further. I hope I have enough for lunch tomorrow.

Skyrim Tavern appeared out of the gloom like a relic of another age. The wood-planked roof curved at the corners, from which hung strings of paper lanterns. The ornate veranda was guarded by a pair of stone statues, a pair of Dragonair that joined together and intertwined to form an archway. The outdoor area was dimly lit, littered with mainly empty tables. No one really wanted to eat outside with this chill wind blowing through. The entrance door, thankfully, was modern. One step inside and I was greeted by a toasty billow of air.

"Oyyyy!"

"Jazz! Jazzery!"

"Jazzery!"

"Jazzery!"

"It's Jazzery!"

I was greeted by a crowd about ten times larger than I expected. Trainers of every stripe and color packed the main dining area, and about half of them recognized me. I couldn't say the reverse was true for any of them, or so I thought. Erika pushed her way through the throng.

"Jasmine! Finally!"

"Erika?! Who are all these people?"

"I don't rightly know myself. They simply showed up and started drinking, heavily. I'm very concerned, they all say they're drinking on your tab."

What the hell?! I can't pay for all these people!

"Did Violet come?" I asked.

"Yes- but she's being a bit shy. What are you going to do about this?!"

"What am I going to do?! No clue, whatsoever. I only invited two people!"

We made our way through the restaurant. From their odd appearance, the profusion of pokeballs, and a few vaguely familiar faces, it eventually dawned on me who these people were.

"Now," Erika began, "I think there are a few people you will recognize here." We found our table, a long booth. Everyone turned to witness my arrival.

"Hello!" I said in surprise.

Violet was seated at the far end, where Erika took a seat beside her. Nearer to me were two complete but joyful shocks: Lyra and Ethan! Beside them was a stiff, serious looking young man in a black coat. The final member of our group sat herself in the center, half-hidden behind the most massive mug of beer I've ever laid eyes on. Clair, of course.

"Hello Clair. It's been a little while, hasn't it?"

"GLURGLGLURGL." The enormous mug was half-finished when she picked it up; when she set it down it was completely empty. Her fist rapped the table, signaling for a refill.

"I assume these people are your subordinates?" I asked, indicating the currently chanting crowd.

She didn't reply right away. Or, well, at all. Her focus was fully consumed by the empty glass mug. It remained there, unwavering.

"She doesn't talk until she's drunk," Lyra said. "How are you doing Jasmine?"

"She's not drunk already?" I took a moment to puzzle over this impressive show of inebriated fortitude. The tender passed by to lay another mug down, brimming and frothing, ready for consumption. It did not touch the table surface before being snatched by Clair and chugged.

"Anyways!" I shrugged, turning to Lyra. "This is a pleasant surprise. What are you doing here?"

Lyra pointed to Clair. "It's better you ask her. By the way, this is Silver." The serious-looking red-head nodded politely, saying nothing. "If you're going to eat, I recommend the filet scash."

I spent the next five minutes chatting with Lyra, ordering, and chowing on the complimentary rolls. Lyra related various things she'd been up to, but was coy about her presence here and wanted to listen to me more. That was difficult with my attention drawn to the apparently-not-drunk-enough drunkard; with sidelong glances given to the stranger and Violet. The latter was secluding herself and engaging Erika in whispered conversation.

"So is probation really that bad?" Lyra bugged me for the third time on the subject. I held up a hand.

"Now wait a minute, why won't you tell me why you're here?"

"I can't." Lyra answered.

"Why?!" I'm so confused!

"Because it's much funnier to hear from her." She nodded towards Clair.

"But she's not drunk-"

"Fifty-five zero!" Clair suddenly shouted. "It's a fucking joke! A Rattata's crackhole of a joke! We're not some chump collection of bowling pins, are we?!"

"Hell no!"

"We're the goddamn Dragon Tamers of Johto! The strongest type has no business going fifty-five and zero against any opponent, let alone an emo prick and his pissy yellow rat!"

"Here here!"

"Dragons are invincible!"

"Aye!"

"Dragons are all-powerful!"

"Aye!"

"Dragons always win!"

"Ay-aye!"

"SO WHAT THE FUCK JUST HAPPENED TODAY?! DID WE COLLECTIVELY FUCKING DOPE ON PARAS SHROOMS?! WAS THAT A HALLUCINATION?! DEAR GOD AND ARCEUS TELL ME THAT WAS THE CASE!"

"We might not have doped on shrooms, but we're bowling on lager tonight!"

"What the hell?" I said aloud. Clair's speech was not really directed at any person, but at the ceiling. None-the-less, her subordinates eagerly threw in their two cents, in timed bursts. It was like a pep rally.

"Are you celebrating something?" I asked the nearest one.

"Hell yes! We are celebrating the most astounding, humiliating, lop-sided steamroll of the Dragon's Den in its five-hundred year history! Go us! The biggest losers in Blackthorn annals!"

"I have no clue what's going on." Erika shrugged, not knowing the answer. Lyra took joy in my confusion, but also offered no explanation. Silver contemplated our faces, while Ethan stabbed aimlessly at his sushi.

"Clair, what's going on? Tell me!" I shouted directly at the Dragon Tamer.

"Whah? Fran, is that you?"

"It's me, Jasmine. From Olivine. Remember?"

"Jasmine? That little naked squeak from Indigo?"

"Yes, that one," I said, sighing in exasperation. If that's the clearest memory she has of me, so be it.

"What happened? And please make sense."

"What happened is that I, THE Dragon Tamer, lost fifty-five to zero in a straight up Pokémon match."

"Wah?" That's not even possible. Matches never involve more than six Pokémon a side. "What do you mean?" I demanded. Unfortunately, Clair got her hands on another mug and was too busy downing it to elaborate.

"Hi, name's Paulo." A guy in a snazzy jacket (embellished ridgelines going down the sleeves, even) pulled a chair up to me."You must be Jasmine. Sorry if we're jacking your tab, I promise you won't have to cover this mess."

"Good to meet you Paulo. Now, care to explain this?"

"Yeah, that's what I'm about to tell you. Just wanted you to know about the tab first, since we all barreled here assuming you were offering free drinks."

"Free drinks? For everyone? Who said that?"

Paulo pointed an accusatory finger at the Dragon Gym Leader.

"I'll get the Dragon Den to cover this. Heck, we deserve it."

"So what the hell happened?" I'm tired of not getting answers when I ask for them! I'm tired of surprises!

Paulo leaned back. "So I assume you've heard of Red's challenge?"

"Red? What? Oh wait, the Champion? No, I haven't."

"Oh, need to get you caught up then. Apparently, Red's been coaxed into  joining the Johto League Tournament this year. Thing is, for all the times he's toured the region, he's never completed the gym badge set."

"Wait? What?! Doesn't he come from Kanto? And he never finished the gym challenge here in Johto?"

Paulo nodded.

Come to think of it, I don't remember battling someone of Red's caliber, ever. Then again, he wasn't well known until he crushed the Kanto, Sinnoh, and Hoenn Elite Four in quick succession. That was four years ago. Before that? Was it possible he came through Olivine and beat me? Or did he come before I took the Gym Leadership? I can't recall. It was a difficult time in my life and I've tried very hard to forget as much of it as possible.

Or Paulo might be right and he never stopped by the Olivine City Gym.

"He's making up for lost time. With a vengeance."

"Guess where stop number one was?" Lyra chipped in.

I pointed to the ground, meaning Blackthorn. Lyra and Paulo both nodded their head in the affirmative.

"Blackthorn Gym got slaughtered," said Lyra.

"Don't be so modest. Us subordinates just kind of cowered in the corner after the first ten Pokémon got sent to the emergency ward." Paul grimaced. "Don't know if he had something against our gym, or just wanted to prove a point."

"So I take it he beat Clair?"

"Beat?! HA!!!"

I'm being serious, why do people have to insert exaggerations,  hyperbole, and sarcasms into normal conversation all the time?!

"Okay, follow me here," Paul warned. He started counting off his fingers.

"Clair challenged him to a standard 3v3. Then a 4v4. Then a 6v6. Then a 6v6 double battle. Then a 6v6 triple battle. Then a 6v4 double. Then 6v1. Then a 6v1 triple. Then a 6v6 random. Then a 6-on-1. Red won every single match."

"Okay, so Red came through and won a lot. What's the big deal, he's the world champ, you expect him to be tough." Never mind that this sounds excessive and Clair should have just given him the badge after the first battle.

"Tough?! You're joking. Fucking joking. He didn't just win. He won every single battle without his Pokémon taking a single scratch of damage. Yes, even the six-versus-one Pokémon battle. Well, granted, by then, Clair was in such a rage she didn't plan very well, but still. Six Pokémon. Attacking at the same time. Couldn't even hit a freaking Pikachu."

"I get it, he's good," I said. While those feats certainly sound impressive, there's no way to tell the reality of the situation without seeing it for myself. If what he said was true, and Red was on a tour of the region, he would certainly head my way at some point.

Wonderful! A guaranteed loss to add to my record.

"Lyra, can you make sense of this?" I asked.

"I didn't see it myself, though I wish I had."

"I did." The strange red head known as Silver finally spoke up. "It was the Pikachu. I don't understand how, but its Thunderbolt one-shot everything it touched. That, and during the later matches, Clair wasn't thinking straight and made suicidal judgment calls. It was really disappointing."

"Okay." I rubbed my face. "If I'm understanding this correctly, Red, the world champion, inexplicably wants to play in the little league, a.k.a. the Johto Regional Tournament, and to do that, needs the eight gym badges. He came here first because you're purported to be the strongest gym in the region, and he bloodied you all up and embarrassed your Gym Leader. When rumor came about free alcohol, everyone decided to jump on the bandwagon and chug away the bad memory. Am I correct?"

"Yep, basically."

"So Lyra, why are you here?" I asked. Lyra beamed. She had her poofy hat in hand, which shortly found its way on top of Silver's head. He batted it off.

"I've been tracking Silver here, since I want him to train me. He doesn't want to-" Silver shot her an angry look. "-but I know my cute charms will convince him eventually. He's been tailing Red in order to battle him, to prove himself or something like that. I also kind of fancy battling Red myself, not really satisfied with how the last time turned out."

You say that so innocently, Lyra. It's endearing, it really is. Silver looks like he wants to gut you right now. And you, battling a living legend? I don't care how strong Typhlosion's protective instincts are, he's not going to stand up against a monster that 1-shot the entire Blackthorn Gym.

"I have told you, repeatedly, REPEATEDLY, I will not train you!" Silver said angrily.

"Awww, you say that and you say that…" Lyra stared at him with googly eyes.

"Are you strong?" I asked Silver.

"Not strong enough." He leaned back and closed his eyes. "Not yet. That's why I merely watched Red battle. I need to train harder before I challenge him. Much harder. And that's not possible with overalls here bugging me every other day."

"Don't listen to him! I bet he could beat Red if he just tried! He's really, totally strong! Stronger than me, stronger than Ethan even! Isn't that right?"

Ethan raised his vacant eyes towards her, with a look saying 'Why am I dating her?'

"Have you ever competed in the tournaments?" Another question from me to Silver. He shook his head.

"No. Never. I don't participate in such formal battles."

"Why not?"

"They are shams, organized for mass entertainment. I value only the challenge in meeting other trainers on the field of battle, with something more at stake than money and ego."

"Uhuh."

"Pah! You can get everything you want in a battle just the same, whether it’s a tourney or on some mountain top. The only difference is money, and you like money, don't you?" Lyra said. She leaned forward on her elbows.

"No."

"Oh? Then what possessed you to bend over backwards for that Golbat contract?"

"My interest is not money for its own sake, nor do I desire petty wealth or material possession. Money is only a means to an end."

"And that end is?" I asked.

"To take control of my father's organization."

"Huh. Who is your father? What organization is it?"

"That's enough questions." Silver took up a draught of lager and started sipping it, as a means of removing himself from the conversation.

"Rude."

What a strange guy. If you have nothing good to say, then don't say anything at all! Or so the saying goes. Men don't ever seem to take that lesson to heart. I bet the ones who are quiet actually have nicer things to say. Like Ethan here. Although, by his demeanor, I don't think Ethan is really enjoying himself in this rowdy environment.

We spent another hour on irrelevant conversation. For me this involved a typically timid one-on-one with Lyra, while my interaction with the gym trainers more resembled a one-sided interrogation (them interrogating me). Paulo, at one point, did try to hit on me. His hands went around my waist and he compared me to a snow angel or something. I was about to respond as usual (unkind word and/or slap to the face), but he immediately turned to Lyra and hit on her without waiting for my answer. He repeated this gesture until he ended up with a truly awful pick-up line given to Clair. Clair reflexively smacked him, then in her own drunken stupor clutched him by the cheeks and lip-locked him. Most everyone hooted and hollered, rooting the pair on. Except me, of course, I was too busy burying my head in embarrassment.

"Is it safe?" I asked, head still planted into my arms.

"From what, the PDA? Yeah."

I lifted my gaze up, to witness Paulo and Clair on top of the table and frenching.

"Liar."

"Hehehe."

"Can you get them to stop? Seriously, I need to talk to Clair." And Violet.

"I'll see what I can do."

I got up and made my way down the side of the table, trying to avert my gaze from the lovers' spectacle. Lyra tip-toed beside them and began poking.

Violet and Erika had spent the entire meal talking with each other. The conversation halted when I approached.

"Violet?"

"Yes?"

"How are you doing today?"

"I'm doing fine."

"Ah! Good!"

We stared at each other, blankly.

"So…"

This is awkward. Perhaps I should forego the chitchat and get straight to the point? Or should I apologize for yesterday, or try to explain myself to her? I get the sick feeling that I somehow hurt her feelings, even though she wasn't involved in any way with my misfortune and subsequent outburst. Is it that I'm afraid that she thinks I'm a lunatic, a clingy, overzealous Pokemon fanatic?

In a way, I am like that. I treat my Pokemon like a jealous lover. How should I deal with that?

Blah! It's irrelevant to the situation at hand. What's important is that I acknowledge Violet's troubles and try to do something for her, and not think about myself.

"Well, I wanted you to know that I was really touched by your situation, so I wanted to try to do something special. With Clair's permission, I believe we can have an official Pokémon match at the gym here. Would you be willing to accept that?"

Violet took in my offer patiently, and then smiled. A wave of relief passed over me.

"Yes, yes, that would be kind of you. I accept."

"Oh good! Tomorrow morning, at, say 9:00?" Our train leaves at noon, that'll leave plenty of time for a battle.

"Yes, perfect. Well then, I look forward to beating you." She nodded contentedly.

"Haha! Alright. However," I said, my spirits picking up, "this doesn't mean I'm going to go easy on you. You're going to have to earn this badge." I fiddled in my purse for a moment, looking for the spare badge I always kept on hand. It was usually reserved for show, but I can always get a new one. Assuming Violet actually wins. I truly had no intention of losing to her. Sorry, but an extracurricular gym battle is the most my sympathy gets you.

I found Clair straddling atop a wasted Paulo. Lyra was busy handing her glasses of soda, tricking her into thinking it was whiskey she was now glugging. I approached, clearing my throat to draw attention. It didn't work, and Clair went down on Paulo's face again. Lyra interceded with a plate.

"Mmmph?!" Clair and Paulo's expectant lips found only porcelain. Clair bolted upright, grimaced at Lyra before being directed towards me. Persuading her to let me borrow her gym came down to two sentences per side:

"I want to use your gym tomorrow morning."

"We're closed for the rest of the week."

"Let me use it for one match."

"Fine, just leave me alone."

Awesome. With permission in hand, I allowed the couple to continue their lewd display of sexuality.

Twenty minutes later we departed, everyone on good terms. Violet's expression towards me still felt… odd, somehow. Like she was mad or wary towards me. Her words were anything but, however, and we exchanged the usual promises of soon-to-be competitors. Erika promised to meet me at the room, but first she and Violet wanted to check the garden behind the restaurant before leaving. Lyra promised to show up to root for me tomorrow, and drag Ethan and Silver along to do the same. Clair promised to do some unmentionable things to Paulo once they found a bed. My final words of the night were addressed to her.

"Clair! I would love to thank you for for letting me use your gym, but quite frankly- your nipples are about two millimeters from falling out of your dress. Please find a room."

The unhappy, drunken hook-up couple glanced at each other and began a round of non-stop laughter.

Chapter Text

Morty got the note I tacked onto his motel door. He was waiting for me at the lobby of the gym, twenty minutes before the match was scheduled.

"You look awake, for once," I commented.

"Yeah…" he shrugged. "Got a good night's sleep, for once. What did you want me here for?"

"First, to tell you that you missed a great time last night. It was your kind of party."

"Oh really?"

"Yes. Lots of beer, lots of noise, lots of sexual proclivity."

"Yeah? Well, for your information, alcohol alone does not a good party make," he informed me in the most formal of tones.

"Then what does make for a good party?" I asked.

"The right company."

"So says sleeping beauty. Your presence was sorely missed."

"Uh… Eh… I got no defense."

I stared, droll-eyed, then shook my head in reproach.

"Anyways, the real reason I summoned you."

"You want to make out," he ventured.

"Shut up. I wanted advice."

"On kissing."

"Shut up! Advice on battles."

"Between sexes."

"Shut up! Shut up! Shut up before I die!" I added, because my sides were cracking up, my brain not knowing the difference between frustration and hilarity. "Advice on a woman, named Violet."

"So you're gay now."

"Oh my god Morty!"

"You like it, you think it's funny!" He poked my laughter-riddled belly repeatedly.

"Stop! That h-hur-ha-hahahaha! S-s-stop!"

"Stopping," Morty said. The poking ceased, as did the jokes and involuntary convulsions. I took a serious stance, or at least, as serious as I could manage after that farce.

"There was a woman who beat you in a gym match shortly before we left Ecruteak. She probably used grass types. Her name was Violet. Do you recall?"

"Oh, yeah, I remember that cutie."

"You think she's cute?"

"I think many women are cute. Don't be jealous."

"I'm not."

"You are."

"I'm not jealous. I'm not desperate for your affection, contrary to your own delusional head canon."

He raised his hands in defense. I continued.

"I'm about to battle this woman in a sanctioned gym battle and I want advice on how to beat her. What Pokémon does she use? What tactics? Do her Pokémon have any weaknesses? So on and so forth. Tell me everything you know."

"Woah! Woah! No can do." He shook his head in a fierce horizontal motion.

"I'm not kidding here."

"Yeah, that's the problem," he replied.

"Stop joking," I warned him.

"Right, you did it again. You just had to be serious and you ruined our little moment. I can't."

"Don't mess with me. You are so far down my totem pole that-"

"Listen to me!" He put a hand over my mouth, shutting my speech off. "I didn't say I wouldn't, I didn't want to, or that I won't. I said I can't. Foreknowledge on a challenger? That is considered a serious breach of ethics for a Gym Leader, Jazz."

"It's not that serious! They only say don't-"

He physically shushed me again. His expression, I realized, was as serious and stubborn as he's ever shown.

"It is serious. I can't tell you a thing," he said deliberately, each word drilled for emphasis. "Gym Leaders are not supposed to seek reactionary competitive advantage. That includes prescient knowledge and pre-adaptation to challengers. Part of our job is to test a trainer's ability to adapt to proscribed difficulties. We can do anything we want by our lonesome, but we can't change tactics based on our opponent."

"But…"

"It's all there in the rulebook. And, furthermore, it's beneath you." He put a hand on my shoulder. "Why do you think you need to cheat?"

"Because my job is on the line. Because my dignity is on the line!"

I wasn't seething mad at him, only frustrated, but it was beginning to show. He moved closer, within the range of intimacy.

"You don't give yourself enough credit sometimes. Your Pokémon battle well beyond their level because of your intelligence in coordinating them. You think you need to cheat to protect your career? Your job and your dignity will go poof if you rely on others instead of improving yourself."

"That… But… I see." I bowed. He had struck a chord. He knows I hate relying on others, and was using that against me. Until that moment I hadn't thought about what I was doing in that way. "I assumed it was okay. I guess not. Sorry."

I say I'm sorry, but only because I look like a fool now.

"It's okay. That's the natural right of any other trainer. Unfortunately, we're slaves to the League." He lifted my chin up with one hand and hugged my shoulder with the other. We proceeded to walk off like that, me tucked under his embrace. To an outsider, we must look like a young couple, and I wasn't sure how to feel about that.

As long as we don't hold hands, I'll be okay.

"Have you had breakfast?" he asked.

"No."

"Figured. C'mon, let's go find something for you to eat."

"The battle starts soon."

"You can be late."

"No I can't."

"Yes you can. You want advice? Never battle on an empty stomach. Your brain needs nutrients to think at its best."

"Fine, fine."

"How're your Pokémon?"

"They're good. I tended to them this morning. They know the basic strategy."

"Mind sharing?"

"Do I mind? A little."

"Right, fair's fair. At least tell me who're  you're going to use."

I eyed him down.

"You're just going to laugh to yourself because you know what I'm in for but you won't tell me."

"No… I…"

"What?" I demanded. He seemed sheepish.

"Well, I was going to give you advice on what to do with your team, based on what I know about her, without telling you why it's good advice. You know, grey areas."

"You rotten scoundrel!" I unhooked myself from his arm. He was grinning. "You think you know my Pokémon well enough that you could come up with a better strategy? If you're going to spout ethics at me and then subvert them, you might as well go the whole raw way! Why are you such a hypocrite?!"

"You know why," he said. I took this answer seriously, and tried reasoning it out. The answer became obvious, and subsequently, I fell silent and demure.

Of course, it's because he likes me.

I settled down somewhat.

"I'm going to use Skarm-skarm," I admitted.

"Even though you just caught him?" Morty asked in surprise.

"Even if I lose because of it, I think it'll be a valuable learning experience. I want to test his capabilities."

"That's a gamble."

"I'm willing to take it. It's not like one or two battles is going to be the difference in reaching 50%. So, based on what you know about Violet, is Skarmory a good idea or bad idea?"

"Hmmm." His eyes focused on the belt of my pants. "Let me think. By the way, jeans today?"

"I was lazy, I just put on what I wore yesterday. Why are you commenting on my fashion?"

"Because I know you hate jeans. And I'm stalling for time… Kay. Yeah. I honestly have no clue how Skarmory's going to fare. She's tricky. Obviously, grass user, so Skarmory won't take damage from her primary attacks, but… I can't tell."

His head drooped, his eyes closed in thought.

"Remember how I almost lost to Volkner?" he said.

"Huh?"

"That's the best advice I can ethically give you. The way Volkner almost beat me, would be a good way to beat her."

"How? By bluffing? By having super-fast Pokémon? That's incredibly vague advice."

"I can't say any more. I'm not allowed to tell you about her, but I can remind you that you know me, and you know my battle style, and that should give you some idea of what she's capable of. She used my tactics against me. Remember that."

I nodded. It wasn't helpful at all right now, but maybe it'll be worth something in the middle of the battle.

He idly took out a pokeball and began tossing it into the air, like a baseball. We arrived at a lunch stand, where he bought me a snack and himself some popcorn. "For the match, to throw at you when you're about to do something dumb," he said jokingly.

"Well, then I will just not do anything dumb enough to warrant that."

"That's the spirit. You'll be okay."

We made our way back towards the gym.

"Thank you," I told him.

"For?"

"The snack. For getting my Pokémon back. For helping find Skarmory. For believing in me."

"Coming from you? That's nice to hear." That smile, the one I so loved, the one I fantasized hiding a certain fondness for me? He had that smile now, and I was positive it was for me.

Dear heart, please stop fluttering. We have a battle. It's 8:56, I have to get to the arena.

"I'll be in the stands. See you after?"

"Sure."

"And I booked a ticket home. Train, this time, twelve o'clock. I double-checked with Erika, it should be the right one. You don't mind, do you?"

"Not enough to say no."

We parted ways, he to the spectators' stands, myself to the arena floor.

All gyms look pretty much the same on the outside. There is an official uniform architecture for all gyms throughout the nation. One reason was to give them a distinct style, to let every trainer indisputably know that these are Pokémon League facilities. Another reason was that the standardized floor plan was cheap to build. The interiors were a different matter. Gym Leaders were allowed to customize to their heart's content, as long as it followed the safety guidelines, and was paid for on their own dime. My gym had the auto-tilling system, so that Steelix could burrow and crack and crumble the earth all day long without worrying about undermining the building's foundation. Other than that, though, it was a very plain, straightforward gym. There was one arena floor, and no superfluous elements. Clair was not nearly so conservative.

The Blackthorn Gym was much larger, and its central plaza was, in fact, filled with a giant pool of artificial lava. Competitors battled on large, floating barges and walkways. To navigate across the lava, trainers had to use controllers to move the barges in a specific direction and orientation. The process resembled a life-sized game of tetris. The whole affair was timed, and challengers gained extra time by defeating gym trainers. Clair's rules allowed you as much time as you could earn; one story had a particularly puzzle-inept trainer require 100 extra battles in order to gain enough time to figure out the mobile platforms and reach Clair.

When I arrived, the gym was in the process of being shut down for the week. The platforms were arranged in a straight line, and the lava was very dim, the result of the thermal generators having been recessed. The background hum of energy shields could still be heard, however. They couldn't be taken offline unless the lava completely cooled down to room temperature. Even the weeklong hiatus would not be long enough for that to happen. Ergo, the shields remained online. The major platform was near the back; a separate pathway was prepared for me to reach it. I could trace where the path ended, but couldn't quite make out how to get to it. A few spare spectators and trainers hung around, obviously disappointed that regular operations were suspended. I was forced to make my way through them while searching for the pathway's entrance.

"Excuse me."

My gaze was focused on the path, and my mind was preoccupied by the imminent battle. I didn't notice the man walking briskly in my direction until I was nearly on top of him. Luckily, he nimbly dodged aside and averted a collision.

I turned my head, catching a glimpse of his face, just as he passed.

"Oh!" He looks familiar. I recognize him. But from where?

Young face, dark hair, piercing eyes, slightly hollow cheeks, narrow shoulders, good posture…

Where is he from? Way back in time? Like, five years ago? No. Maybe. No; more recent? Yes! Much more recent. TV. Newspapers. Internet. Two weeks ago. The gala! Red!

"Red? That's not Red… Is it?" I double-checked my terrible facial memory, and indeed, my fears were confirmed. I had been within a hair's width of ramming into the world champion. Goosebumps broke out over my forearms.

"Red!" I called out. He was already well behind me, and either ignored me or didn't hear my cry. Oh well. I'm surprised he's still hanging around after beating the gym yesterday. Hell, I'm surprised he's still allowed inside this gym, after what happened. I figured a few folks in here might not even bother using Pokémon to settle the score if they ever confronted him again. Oh well.

I'll be seeing him eventually, I'm afraid.

Still, it's so weird. The media create these legendary figures, trainers with obscene win ratios and unheard of exploits. But when they pass you by on the street, in a hallway, at a café, they're just like normal people. Easily missed if they aren't being heaped with attention. Even here, no one else seems to notice him. I'm the only one that knows. He's not battling, his famous Pikachu isn't out, and he's not wearing his trademark red ball-cap, so I guess that could explain it.

I shrugged. Johto has a little more than six million inhabitants, and only eight are Gym Leaders. I could be considered mildly famous, but I hardly get any recognition unless I draw attention to myself.

This world is so odd.

I found the pathway to the Gym Leader's pavilion and marched along it. The stands were virtually empty, it was beyond easy to spot Erika and company. Lyra was present, as promised, as was Ethan. Silver was absent.

The officiating judge met me, we exchanged formalities and technicalities, and then he departed to his booth.

The Gym Leader's pavilion was like a pulpit, looming over the main arena. Clair was not one for humbling herself before her challengers; they were all forced to look up to her during battles. As a lone, frail-looking figure approached from the forward platforms, I felt strangely comfortable. Like my elevated position was giving me a sense of confidence, power.

False confidence, false power.

I shook my head. You saw Morty deliver an all-timer of a battle and prove himself capable of being a regional champion, and this woman somehow managed to beat him. It's going to take focus to make sure she doesn't add to my loss total.

Violet took her position opposite of the field to me. She wore a floral-print knee-length skirt and blouse, trademarks of the aroma lady society. It was too far to see her face clearly, but I imagined a friendly but smug grin on it. Her posture was loose. A pokeball was ready in her hand.

I stood forward.

"Welcome to the Blackthorn Gym. Today we will engage in a 6v6 single battle. For the right to earn the Mineral Badge, I, Jasmine Mikan, accept your challenge!"

Chapter Text

"Go, Skarmory!"

"Go, Breloom!"

I took a moment to evaluate the matchup. A Skarmory against a Breloom is usually a no-brainer, but I just caught my Pokémon yesterday. On the other hand, a Breloom is not some simple boxer-brute when under the tutelage of an experienced Aroma Lady.

Quick history lesson: The Aroma Lady Society was a formal club that gathered some one hundred years ago in the Sinnoh region. They dedicated themselves to the cultivation of flowers with unique and flavorful scents. Naturally, they raised Grass-type Pokémon to further their hobby. When the society was attacked by greedy land developers, the ladies were forced to defend themselves by utilizing their Pokémon. Since the Pokémon weren't trained for battle, they had to adapt unorthodox techniques from their aroma-based abilities to match the thugs toe-to-toe.

The Society has long since disbanded, but their predilection for fusing Pokémon training and aromatic cultivation has gained an immense following across the nation. Along with their hobby, these so-called Aroma Ladies also shared a certain penchant for underhanded tactics- namely status effects. Lots, and lots, and lots of status effects.

Naturally, I had learned this the hard way, in friendly battles against one of the most well-known Aroma Ladies in the nation: Erika.

Since Morty wasn't willing to give me hints, I based my strategy off of my experiences battling my dear friend.

So, as Breloom hopped side-to-side, closing the gap between itself and Breloom, I hardly expected it to throw a punch.

"Skarm, stay away from it! Use Air Cutter!"

"Leech Seed!"

My foe acted just as I predicted.

Unfortunately, being an outright clairvoyant would not help in this situation.

"SKRAWWW!"

Skarmory doesn't even know his own name yet, let alone the human language. He bristled and charged the Breloom with a simple Peck attack. The Breloom dodged aside, its tail releasing a spray of seeds into Skarmory's path as it did so. Almost instantly tiny sprouts appeared all over Skarmory's body. Every few moments Skarmory flinched, and a light, fluorescent mist appeared, resembling neon-green pollen. This "pollen" was promptly sucked in by Breloom.

"Air Cutter!" I begged. I wasn't really expecting Skarmory to recognize my command, but I was hoping he'd be smart enough to use it on his own. Unfortunately, he had other (dumber) ideas.

"Skraw! Skraw!" He kicked up a Whirlwind that blew the Breloom end-over-end, all the way back to the far sideline. Breloom leapt back to its feet, undeterred.

"Giga Drain!"

Breloom pounced, knocking Skarmory flat and landing on his back. My Pokémon cried, not knowing why it was being attacked and why his efforts to counter were being thwarted so easily. He's not used to battling a trained fighter yet. Sadly, he probably doesn't even understand what's going on, why a strange Pokémon is beating on him and why I, his new master, am not doing anything to help.

Out of frustration, Skarmory whipped his body about, using Steel Wing to cut into Breloom. Breloom leapt and then came crashing back down. A green aura flared up where the two made contact. The aura unfurled and writhed, like smoke, then appeared to be sucked into Breloom's fist. Giga Drain. The Leech Seed took its toll on my Pokémon as well.

Skarmory fluttered, breaking himself free, and then shrugged off another Giga Drain. Breloom wasn't able to land another attack after that, as Skarmory began focusing entirely on running away. However, each time a puff of pollen burst into the air, Skarmory's speed took another dip, and his cries became a little softer.

I sighed.

"Skarm retreat!" I held up a pokeball, then thought better. "Skarmory, come back! Get over here!" I waved frantically, until I caught the bird's attention. After several silly body-motions on my part, he figured out to come to my side. Breloom, being well-trained, stopped pressing its assault when it saw Skarmory leaving the arena.

"Stay out. Watch. Waaaaatch." I put myself eye-to-eye with the bird. I'll leave him out. Maybe he'll understand if he sees his team mates battling. They were all introduced earlier this morning, and it went as well as could be expected. My senior Pokémon treated him nicely, at least, encouraging and gently coaxing. Skarmory, for his part, kind of tucked himself into a ball and stared at everyone.

"Magneton."

It let out a crackling vibration, ready for battle.

"That Skarmory doesn't appear very disciplined. I was expecting more from a Gym Leader," Violet commented.

"My apologies, he is new," I replied, trying to hold down the distaste in my voice. I couldn't tell if she meant to insult me, or was just trying to mess with my head.

"Ah! Let me apologize, I didn't mean to be rude. You said you would take me seriously, but so far…"

"I see." Oh now she's being humble. Why was it so easy for me to jump to conclusions about other people's character? "I promise I won't go easy on you. Thunderbolt!" I shouted suddenly.

Magneton let off a sizzling bolt towards the Breloom. It jumped up in the air, but couldn't dodge. I don't care if it's technically resistant to electricity, enough shots from Magneton will take down its frail little fanny.

"Mach Punch!"

"Magneton, don't Reflect! Magnet Rise!" Magneton hesitated, but just a moment. It was enough to allow Breloom the hit, its fist connecting with one of Magneton's faces. An instant later Magneton levitated itself higher into the air.

"It's just using Mach Punch to get close to you, in order to Leech Seed you," I told my Pokémon. "Ignore your training, don't use Reflect, just keep your distance!"

"Mach Punch!"

Breloom leapt high into the air to deliver this punch. Magneton countered with a Thunderbolt. Probably should have used Discharge, but at least the blast stopped it from using Leech Seed.

"Higher!"

Magneton lifted itself another ten feet into the air.

"Trying to escape? It won't do, not at all. Bullet Seed!"

"That won't hurt Magneton!"

"You really think so?" Violet is baiting me with her offensive tone. Can't let her get to me.

Breloom whipped off grass-type projectiles like a chain gun. They spattered across Magneton's three faces.

"Thunderbolt!"

"Substitute!"

"Thunderbolt!"

"Substitute!"

Each time I called for a Thunderbolt, it met nothing but a hollow shell. I figured Violet was stalling for time, but why? Did she think Breloom could outlast Magneton's power?

It was the eighth or ninth round of Thunderbolt-Sub-break-repeat that I noticed it. Breloom was as fast and nimble as ever. It appeared just as healthy as it was when Magneton began laying into it.

"That doesn't make any sense." The kind of Substitute Breloom was making weren't being made from natural materials, but the life force of the Pokémon itself. Therefore, each Sub should be causing damage to its user. Breloom should be fainted by now, for all the Subs it's put up. And yet, it was still going strong.

"Magneton, Thunderbolt, and then come closer!"

Lightning arced directly at Breloom. It was already preparing another doppelganger. The attack blew the decoy apart, even as Breloom loped towards Magneton's vicinity.

"AHA!"

I spotted it. Little green furls covering Magneton's underside.

"When did you use Leech Seed?" I demanded of Violet.

"I'll show you. Bullet Seed 3!"

Magneton blanched under the barrage attack.

"Mach Punch!" Breloom closed in for a melee attack. Magneton is already seeded somehow, might as well put my strategy into effect.

"Discharge!" I commanded.

I kept my eyes on Breloom, and followed it all the way through its leap, expecting any microsecond now to hear a crackling zap. It never came. Breloom smashed into my Pokémon, sending it to the floor. The opponent landed gracefully a yard beyond.

"Magneton… are you… asleep? How? Spore? When?"

I looked towards my human foe. She nodded her head to the side.

"I don't want to give up an advantage, but you should be able to figure it out by now."

What has she commanded her Pokémon to do so far? Substitute? Had Magneton gotten seeded by breaking the Subs? What if the Subs were filled with infectants, and Thunderbolting released the contents into the air? That's too farfetched, I haven't seen anything being released. Wait.

"Bullet Seed Three? A specialized attack? Bullet Seed? You're using that attack to carry Leech Seed!"

Violet nodded.

"And Spore?!"

Violet reached out her hand.

 "Breloom, start the operation."

"Magneton!" I silently begged for it to wake up. I'm lucky this Breloom is such an indirect fighter, or else the Mach Punches would have ended it long ago. Still, only two or three more… But Breloom seemed content with leaving Magneton alone. It was busy Bullet Seeding all over the arena.

"What are you doing?" I asked. No answer, of course. "What are you doing!" I demanded, this time directed at Magneton. "Wake up! Wake up!"

It took three more minutes, and right as Magneton appeared to shake off the spore-induced sleep, my attention was drawn away from Breloom.

"Now, Sunny Day!"

"Sunny Day?!?!" Did I hear that correctly? Why use that?! Except it wasn't the Sunny Day I'm used to. Most people use it to set up their fire types, filling the very air itself with a burning radiance. This was much softer, warmer, almost comforting.

"Magneton, Thunderbolt!"

"Mag?"

He looked confused. I had to double-take at the field to understand why.

There were dozens, dozens, of Breloom littering the field. Holy shish kabobs. That can't be right. This isn't a 100v1 battle, is it?

But, the army of Brelooms weren't moving. They stood patiently by; no, not even that, they were as still as statues.

"They're Substitutes!" The Bullet Seeds Breloom was releasing, and the Sunny Day… It was planting a field of Substitutes! Naturally grown ones, at that, meaning they didn't drain Breloom's health to create.

"They're not just regular Substitutes," Violet warned.

"What does that mean? Where's the real Breloom?" Violet smiled,  but opted to keep the answer to both questions a secret.

Alright, puzzle me this. Breloom is hiding. Nothing is happening, so she must be waiting on Magneton to act first. Breloom is either hiding amongst the Subs, or has burrowed underground.

"Reflect! Light Screen!" I ordered. As long as she's giving me breathing room, I can have Magneton prepare for the counter attack.

Oh, crap. I saw another puff of green pollen fall off Magneton. Magneton itself was looking drained; its components were heavily drooping. The Leech Seed had been draining it this entire time. I couldn't afford to wait Breloom out.

"Okay… Magneton, do you see the Leech Seed energy?"

"Maaagne."

"Follow it closely, it'll drift towards the real Breloom! Hit it!"

A few moments later, an electric crack filled the air. The Thunderbolt blasted apart one of the Brelooms. The area erupted into a sickly looking smoke cloud which engulfed everything, including Magneton.

"Toxic spores," I said to myself.

"Bullet Seed Two!" Violet commanded at last. Magneton attempted to lift itself outside of the gas. Large, pod-shaped bullets shot out of the cloud, pelting the retreating Magneton. Small puffs of yellow engulfed it. My Pokémon shivered, then fell out of the air, straight back into the toxin cloud.

"You filled the Subs with poison," I remarked.

"Yes, I did."

"That won't effect Magneton."

"I know. I forgot to tell Breloom to adjust that. These are all filled with spore clouds containing different toxins- some poisonous, others leeching, others paralyzing, others that can put to sleep." Violet finished explaining, sounding very confident.

"I get it." Judging by the fact that Magneton hit one of the Subs and released the cloud, even though he was aiming for the Leech Seed tell-tail, I'm guessing Breloom had hid underground, directly beneath a Sub. It used the cover of the toxin cloud to drill another clip of Bullet Seeds into Magneton, this time adding Stun Spore to the projectiles. So, my Pokémon is nearly fainted, paralyzed, giving the enemy health, and I have to deal with a Status-inducing minefield for the rest of the match. Unfair.

"Magneton, Thunder Wave."

"Oh! Underground!"

Through the haze of the toxin cloud, I couldn't tell if the omni-wave successfully paralyzed the foe. Magneton lurched one final time, and then collapsed. The Leech Seed had actually sapped it down completely, doing almost all of the damage to my pokemon.

"Magneton is unable to battle! Gym Leader, please send out your next Pokémon!"

"Breloom! I'm so proud of you!" Her praise sounds forced.

"That is one dastardly Pokémon you have there," I said across the field, trying to come off as complimentary. Inwardly, I was cracking ten kinds of furiousness.

"I know, right? She is quite the defensive Pokémon. Leech Seed, Giga Drain- oh, did I mention her Toxic Heal ability? Even the poison clouds heal her."

I watched the Breloom hop-scotch atop the heads of the fakes. She seemed blithe to her trainer's praises, but quite jubilant to score a victory. So, she's a stalling status-inflictor, and a good one at that. But, why would Violet reveal her tactics? She's been coy up until now about her Pokémon's capabilities.

"That's very gracious of you to inform me," I said in a carefully measured tone.

"I don't think I have to hide anything now. I'm going to win."

"Because of the booby-traps?"

"Partly."

"What if I got rid of them?"

"Without triggering them? All of them? That would take a long time, but it would certainly hurt my plans."

"Good. Magcargo."

Oh look, she's not smiling anymore. What, did you think I was a pure Steel-type specialist? Let's see how much fun you have with my little ball of magma, miss flower girl!

"Lava Plume!" I ordered my freshly materialized Pokémon. Magcargo complied. A wave of searing ash billowed across the floor. Everywhere that it touched a Substitute, the latter caught flame and exploded. The spore clouds puffed like little mushroom clouds, but then the spores themselves caught on fire and were swallowed up by ashes. Magcargo's attack cleared the field completely free of obstacles.

"Breloom, Bullet Seed Two!"

Where is it coming from? Crap! Breloom had found refuge from the Lava Plume by leaping behind Magcargo.

"Return! Steelix!"

Steelix took the Bullet Seed all across his body. The stun spores reached his head, causing the big metal snake to seize up.

"Steelix doesn't have the special defenses or the resistance like the others. Giga Drain, hurry!"

"Steelix, Iron Tail!" Breloom leapt into close range. Her fist connected, drawing out life energy from Steelix's torso. The latter attempted to retaliate, but the paralysis kept interfering, slowing down his movements just enough. Breloom side-stepped and rolled desperately, barely dodging multiple crashing blows. Steelix locked up entirely, creating an opening. Breloom attempted another Giga Drain, only for Steelix to suddenly roll over. The Grass-Fighter was squished underneath the massive weight.

"Leech Seed!" Violet commanded.

"Get off! Ugh!" More sproutlings, and Breloom managed to struggle free.

"Break through it! Iron Tail!"

"Giga Drain!"

Steelix launched himself forward, attempting to re-pin the minute mushroom. Breloom backflipped, and then immediately reversed herself and charged in. However, her attack was too well timed: she assumed Steelix's charge had carried him much farther forward due to momentum. At that instant, however, paralysis struck, arresting Steelix's charge. He shrugged, and then instantly turned to face the incoming foe. An unintended feint, but it worked. Breloom's counter-attack was met mid-air by a massive, multi-ton, ferrite-encased baseball-bat. Breloom was sent flying through the air like a homerun, splattering against the sideline shield-wall.

"Ouch!"

Everyone in attendance- the spectators, Violet, me, even the judge- all winced at the impact.

"Hmm." The judge mulled Breloom's disposition. A small wift of green pollen made its way over, imbuing the Pokémon with a tiny amount of health. Breloom struggled to her feet, shaking.

"Breloom is still able to battle, although barely. Your call whether to keep her in the fight," the judge informed Violet.

"I… I'm not calling her out, only retreating her," she decided. I noticed a glance from her towards me as she said this.

"Understood."

What's the point in keeping the Pokemon in the match? She's been an absolute pain in the rear, and now she's near-fainted, just get rid of her already! I don't want to have to pity-KO her later; I might very well go overboard and actually kill the thing (kidding… or not, if she took another serious hit from Steelix like she just did). Does she think her sapping abilities are that valuable? Or does the Poke have more tricks up her sleeve?

"Breloom, catch your breath," she ordered, returning her to the pokeball.

"Who's next?"

"Venusaur."

Oh great. Special-attacking tank; not a good matchup for Steelix. I'd rather save my brawns if and when that Breloom returns. Violet held out her hand, preparing to call an attack. Look at her! She's staring right at me, she's already guessing I'm about to switch. She'll use Solarbeam, taking advantage of the opening to charge the uber-powerful Grass attack.

"Steelix, return-"

"Earthquake!"

"Magnemi-" damn it! But my Pokéball was already flying. My Pokémon switched out nigh-instantly, and my little Electric-Steel took the Earthquake's full force.

"Magnemite!" I cried. My Pokémon shook.

"Mag. Mite."

Oh wow. It's unhurt. The Earthquake did nothing.

"I think you overpredicted," I said to Violet.

"Yeah," she said, her disappointment clear. Magnemite is the frailest Pokémon on my current team, but the Earthquake didn't even hurt it. Venusaur is hardly a physical brawler. Even with the double weakness versus the resistance, she probably would have been better off with a special Grass attack. Too late now.

She ordered a Razor Leaf, I called for a Thunder Wave. Dozens of tiny, shuriken-like leaves ripped through the air- but were stopped dead in space by the Thunder Wave. Unfortunately, Venusaur remained out of range and unaffected.

"Magnemite, you need to get closer!"

"Don't let it! Weather Ball!"

"Crap!" Sunny Day was still in effect. A septet of fiery globules launched out of Venusaur's back. Magnemite tried to protect itself with a Thunder Wave- to no effect. The Weather Ball impacted upon the ground surrounding Magnemite; miniature suns, complete with sunrays, exploded. Magnemite flew skyward dazed and unprepared for the next attack.

"Weather Ball!"

"Switch! Graveler!"

The second Weather Ball bounced harmlessly off of Graveler's rock hide.

"Oh? But what happens when Venusaur uses Energy Ball?" Violet said, half-mockingly.

"Dig!" So far this Venusaur hasn't used a single short-range attack, and its Earthquake is weak. If Graveler could make it underground, she'd have a good shot at taking this monster down.

"Grava!"

No! Hell no! She's ignoring me!

"Grrrvvv!!!" My rogue Pokémon thought it infinitely better to try to Rollout. Granted, the barrage of Energy Balls failed to score direct blows; merely glancing off the rotating body. Still, they were quad-effective and even a few more tiny hits like that would KO her.

"GRRRVVV!" Venusaur was surprised by Graveler's advance. Even I was a little shocked by how fast the Rock-type could move once she rolled up to speed. The foe took a few steps back.

"Hold steady! Intercept with Vine Whip!" The living bowling ball bore down on Venusaur. The latter steadied itself, reassured by its owner's voice. It held its vines ready.

"C'mon. C'mon," I muttered.

"Saur!"

Graveler went airborne. Venusaur's vines had redirected it skyward using its vines like a trampoline, momentum did the rest. No matter, Graveler was in range.

"Graveler, Self-Destruct!"

"Grav?!"

My heart dropped to my stomach.

Graveler stared at me like I was the stupidest, most contemptible being in the universe. She's not going to obey me.

"Wrap! Leaf Storm!"

Graveler flipped about and came rocketing down, attempting what looked like a Giga Impact. Alas, she was easily intercepted and cradled mid-air. A cyclone of verdant, energy-encased leaves, swirling and whirling and looking voraciously alive, engulfed Venusaur. As if sensing Graveler, the storm gathered together, and then flung itself full-forced against the hapless victim.

An evolved, much stronger Golem would have been one-shot in the same situation. Graveler stood no chance.

The judge held out a hand, and the outer part of my conscience perceived that he wanted me to switch Pokémon.

Graveler shouldn't have been in my lineup. I realized that now. This morning, she seemed like my best option. Even with the quadruple weakness to Grass, I had thought she could at least take down one Pokémon using Self-Destruct. Apparently, she didn't appreciate being used as kamikaze fodder, and didn't trust me or respect me enough to obey orders at the most critical of junctures. I knew we were on bad terms, but I didn't think her resentment ran this deep.

What was I supposed to do? Even if I had known not to put her in, who else was going to fill my sixth slot? Probably Oddish, and Oddish is, quite frankly, pathetically weak.

"Gym Leader, send out a Pokémon, now."

"Fine."

I'm in a 4-6 hole, and all of my Pokémon have seen action already. Meanwhile I've only seen two of hers.

"Magcargo!" I decided. Venusaur wasn't going to win an artillery war now. She should switch.

"Lave Plume."

"Venusaur, recall!"

I hope you have a non-Grass-type, otherwise I'm taking someone down.

And yes, that tone indicates I'm frustrated to the brink of anger.

"Vileplume!"

"Nature Power!"

To my utter surprise, Magcargo's incendiary ash cloud was met by an even more incendiary wall of lava. Like opposing waves, the two crashed into each other and cancelled each other out. Vileplume stood happily unscathed.

"Where'd that come… oh, right." Natural Power, a geo-based attack. We're surrounded by artificial lava; it's easy to forget when we the trainers are safely shielded from the heat.

"Kkk. Magcargo, Flamethrower!"

"Poison Powder!"

"Argh! Lava Plume!" Magcargo reacted in time. Flamethrower was fast enough not to be blocked by another Natural Power. However, it couldn't neutralize the poison clouds like Lava Plume could, the pure flames didn't have the same viscosity. Vileplume spewed out toxic clouds like a sprinkler with the valve broken off. The toxin had no effect, at least while Magcargo wreathed itself in superheated ash clouds. The poisonous spores would be burnt and amalgamated with the cinders before they could touch Magcargo's body. It wasn't pointless though- while Magcargo was busy defending himself, he couldn't launch Flamethrowers.

"Magcargo…" I started to recall him, but stopped myself.

ARGH! This is tricky! I don't want Magcargo poisoned, he's the lynchpin to my strategy! But I can't switch him with Steelix. The way Pokeball mechanics work, when Steelix switches in he would appear at the same point as where Magcargo left the field- right in the middle of Magcargo's Lava Plume! That's no good for the Steel type!

 "Mag, move left on Mark."

"Vileplume, Stun Spore!"

"Lava Plume forward!"

Stun Spore worked no better than Poison Powder within the ash cloud. And now, the ash cloud was advancing on Vileplume's position.

"Nature Power!" Violet ordered the counter.

"Mark!"

"Stun Spore!"

"Recall!"

"SCHTEEEEL!"

Perfect timing!

The pause Vileplume took to defend itself with Natural Power gave Magcargo enough time to maneuver out of his own Lava Plume, allowing me to switch for Steelix just before the next puff of Stun Spore arrived. Oh well, Steelix is slow and already paralyzed. I got the matchup I needed to start my strategy.

"Steelix, Body Slam!"

"Petal Dance!"

Steelix raised itself high over Vileplume, as the latter began dancing frenetically and letting off obscene numbers of flower petals. The two attacks collided.

"Plu-" Plume tried to continue its dance, but stopped midstep.

"That's what paralysis feels like," I said. "Steelix?"

Steelix let out a low rumble from his gullet. The Petal Dance didn't hurt him too much. Nor was the Stun Spore slowing his movements all that much - he had too much brute muscle inside of him to be shut down by such a small amount of spores. The only thing that was noticeably slower was his reaction time. Fortunately, that doesn't really matter to my plan.

"Awww! Giga Drain!"

"Dragon Tail!"

I couldn't see nor really care what the Giga Drain did. Dragon Tail worked perfectly, beating the Vileplume like a deflated beach ball and smacking the Pokémon straight back to its owner.

"Oh?!"

Venusaur appeared involuntarily.

"Um, that's unique. Venusaur? Earthquake, I suppose?"

"Saur!"

"Oh, right. Energy Ball." Violet shook her head, as if clearing out a mistake.

"Rinse and repeat," I told my own Pokémon. Rinse and repeat it did, paralyzing Venusaur and sending it back to its trainer. Breloom appeared.

"Aww. Again!"

This time was harder. Breloom, weakened as she was, managed to avoid getting hit.

"Breloom, Leech Seed! Then Giga Drain!" Breloom had no need of using the Bullet Seeds, she had ample opportunity with Steelix repeatedly crashing down on her.

"RAWWWW!" My Pokémon roared, gathering two-thirds of his body-length off the ground. Breloom jumped to the side- only for Steelix to execute a sweep instead of a ground-pound. Breloom was sent end-over end across the arena floor.

"Steelix, turn to me."

He did, and confirmed my fears. The Body Slam should have knocked Breloom out- but no, she got a crucial amount of vitality back from the little green saplings growing in a patch on Steelix's side.

"Dragon Tail!"

"Giga-watch out!" Violet cried.

"Woah!"

Steelix crunched into the ground with his massive jaws, using it as a fulcrum. He lifted his entire body end-over, crashing his tail down in a whip-like arc. The speed and range came as a complete shock to my opponents (and even me), cracking the earth just inches away from Breloom. The force of the impact alone was strong enough to send the mushroom Pokémon flying. Before she could touch the ground the red laser of the pokeball picked her up.

"Impressive," Violet said.

"I didn't teach him that," I said. Had Steelix been self-training?

Venusaur appeared.

"Earthquake!"

No good: too weak, even with Steelix's vulnerability.

"Steelix, Dragon Tail again!"

The battle devolved into a merry-go-round ride the next minute or so. I'd seen three of her Pokémon and managed to Body-Slam-paralyze each of them, but couldn't seem to fish out her other three. I was growing wary of the Leech Seed. Not only was it sapping my Pokémon, it was cancelling out the relatively low amount of damage Steelix was doing.

"Vileplume!"

"Steelix, Iron Tail!" Hopefully this will finish that Pokémon in  a single blow.

"Synthesis!"

Vileplume couldn't dodge, but it didn't really have to. It was flattened like a pancake, but survived. By the time Steelix was ready for another, it had already healed itself.

"Steelix, enough!"

"SCTEEL!"

I don't really like battles where opponents constantly switch in and out. I want just two Pokémon duking it out till one bludgeons the other into unconsciousness. Alas, that's not how the game is played today. My big snake retreated to the safety of his pokeball before the Leech Seed could weaken it too much.

Skarmory tapped at Steelix's pokeball.

"Do you understand how this works now?" I asked him.

"Skar-" The bird stared at me, somewhat curious and somewhat bored at the same time.

"Magnemite, Magnet Bomb."

"Stun Spore."

The pair exchanged attacks. Predictably, Magnet Bomb did not do much.

"I think like, half the Pokémon on both sides have been paralyzed by now," Violet commented.

"Yeah, really." Half wasn't enough, though. I needed all of her Pokémon disabled. Then, Magcargo…

But that wasn't going to work if I couldn't get her pokemon to come out!

My strategy was being derailed because I'm shorthanded, and Violet is being very conservative. How can I get my plan back on track?

By abandoning it. I suddenly realized that, maybe, it's not worth it to push one angle of attack if it keeps meeting resistance. Go with what works. What is working? Magcargo. But I don't want him getting stunned or poisoned. Gotta think, gotta think…

"Magnemite…"

"Please lose now," Violet said.

"PLUME!"

I had completely forgotten about Nature Power, and now, a wave of lava bore down upon Magnemite. Magnemite wasn't close enough to recall, either.

"Light Screen stat!"

The lava crashed over Magnemite. The humans all held their breath, waiting to see what had become of the little Pokémon.

"Magnemite… is… able to battle!" The judge had a better vantage point and could make out my Pokémon's status before me. I breathed a big sigh of relief.

However, "able to battle" and "useful in battle" are two different things. Magnemite wasn't going to survive the next attack.

"Magnemite, come back." I might need it later. More likely, I'll probably just call it TKO'd when the time comes. I don't want to see him take another attack like that for no good reason.

"Magcargo."

I'm getting nowhere. My Pokémon are down or beaten up. I can't figure out a good way of dragging her other three Pokémon out. Now's as good a time as ever to exploit my plan.

"Shell Smash!"

"Venusaur!"

Violet switched out.

"Venu!"

Magcargo's shell cracked, and then splintered apart. Screw defense, we were going full offense. While the move obviously butchered his ability to withstand blows, it also, imperceptibly, cranked up his speed and offenses by a factor of 2. Even still, one Shell Smash wasn't enough.

"Earthquake!" Violet ordered.

Think. Quad-effective, with Shell Smash. But at long range, from this Venusaur, who couldn't even budge Magnemite with the same attack- I should be okay-

"CARGLGLGLGL!!!"

Magcargo was tossed and punted and devastated by the seismic waves. Before, Venusaur's Earthquake had merely thrown up puffs of dirt; now, there were yards-long cracks radiating outward. I hadn't felt the earlier ones, now I was gripping the podium to keep my footing.

What the hell?! That thing just got twenty times stronger!

"Magcargo?! Are you alright?"

"Mrgl." He looks terribly hurt. Opposite of him, Venusaur grumbled happily. The floral behemoth lumbered slowly forward. It was eager to finish Magcargo off with one more Earthquake.

"Acid Armor!"

I watched, with horror, the ripple of dust cross the arena. Could Magcargo make it in time?

Magcargo's skin melted, stiffening in the process. The seismic shock  reached him, wracking his body and kicking up a cloud of dust.

"Oh, I suppose he's not really quad-weak anymore," Violet stated. The dust cloud was drifting towards me; she could see my Pokémon better from her position. "But one more should do."

The Earthquake hadn't been fatal- but it was close. If I had to put it into numbers, the first had dealt 60%, and the second had been 37% of Magcargo's health, leaving 3%, roughly. Venusaur had stopped advancing. It was readying a third Earthquake. That was a mistake.

"Recover!"

"Mag!"

Before the next ground buster could reach him, Magcargo concentrated his vital energy, rejuvenating the organs bruised by previous attacks.

"Ugh!" Violet stepped back, partly from the ground shaking, partly from surprise. Venusaur, undeterred, let loose several more Earthquakes towards its opponent. Magcargo just barely managed to Recover the damage off the first one. Thereafter, however, it slowly gained the stamina edge.

Violet was busy thinking of a better counter. Earthquake would work, if the two creatures were much closer. But then it risks Magcargo's Lava Plume. If she stays at range, I can Flamethrower. Vileplume is the only Pokémon capable of blocking either- and that was only before the paralysis and Shell Smash. Venusaur's long ranged attacks- Weather Ball (the Sunny Day had faded), Energy Ball, Razor Leaf- none were really effective against Magcargo.

What would I do? Status, if I could.

"Sleep Powder!" she ordered, tentatively.

"Magcargo, dodge it!" He should have the speed now… oh wait.

The purple plume of powder fell well short; it didn't have the range to reach Magcargo. I didn't even have to worry about the Sleep Powder,if its delivery was going to be this weak. Strange. I thought this Venusaur was a ranged specialist?

"Ha! Flamethrower, max."

Shell Smash-boosted Fire-type-boosted super-effective Flamethrower. Let's see her counter THIS.

"MAAAAAAG-CARG!"

Imagine a tornado, made of gasoline. Imagine it being lit up with a lightning bolt, so that it was now a great infernal vortex. Now turn this vortex sideways and point it towards a pile of soppy leaves. What would you wager the leaf pile's chances were?

"Frenzy Plant!"

The overpowered Flamethrower blasted the sudden protrusion of vines and flora. Flowers and roots, living when they burst from the ground, wilted under the intense heat. Green gave way to brown, to black, to grey, lifeless ash. Spurts of flame leapt off the edges of the conflagration. The center of the arena became a bonfire, too bright to look at, too hot to approach.

"Venusaur!"

"Venu!" came the Pokémon's cry. It was weak. I don't think it's hurt though, it just needs to recover from the Frenzy Plant. It had taken such an extreme and desperate attack as that to block the overpowered Flamethrower. Cool. Magcargo can launch these all day, while Venusaur has to rest after its Frenzy Plants. It'd be a potted twig of a target right now, if only Magcargo had a clear shot. Sadly, the burning remains of the Frenzy Plant obscured the target. Actually, the smoke was blocking my view of Venusaur too, and Violet. If I couldn't see them, then they couldn't see me either…

"Mag!" I cried.

"Mag!" he responded.

"Rush left! Left around the pile and Flamethrower again!" As I ordered this, I frantically signaled for him to rush right. He nodded. With only bits of his shell remaining, I thought he looked like a Slugma.

"Come on!" My hands wrapped themselves into white-knuckled fists. Magcargo skated across the arena, to the right of conflagration. Please work, please work!

"Earthquake!"

Crap! Omni-directional attack, didn't think of that!

As fast as Magcargo was Shell Smashed, he really needed to do it twice before he was truly "fast". He wasn't going to make it in time.

Magcargo rounded the corner, and immediately took damage from the Earthquake.

"Recover!"

"Vine Whip!"

"Heat Wave!"

"Headbutt!"

Heat Wave was supposed to ward off the Vine Whip, but Venusaur was using it to dig into the earth, not Magcargo, and sling itself forward into a Headbutt.

"Flamethrower!" An emergency attack- no good, no time. Venusaur rammed into Magcargo, sending him end over end. The victim flinched.

Venusaur reared onto its hind legs. Earthquake again?

Magcargo was within range, both for a full-force Earthquake, and its own deadly arsenal. It was a gamble, but if I could only take this ground-pounder out, I'd be free to Shell Smash again…

"Overheat!"

Venusaur crashed down. Magcargo billowed, his body glowing.

The earth cracked open, but no shockwaves emanated outwards. What emerged were dark, spore-laden plumes. The gas cloud surrounded and suffocated Magcargo. All I could see was the bright glow within the haze- a glow that faded, like a dying ember.

I reacted, visibly. Violet caught on.

"Vine Whip wasn't just a sling. It also planted Sleep Powder pods, activated by tremors."

So that's it.

"You've really developed your techniques," I said, complimenting her. "It's very interesting how you're pushing the box in terms of how your Pokémon are deploying status ailments."

"Why thank you." Violet gave me the barest curtsy. She was winning, she could afford to be gracious. As could I, inwardly grinning…

"Magcargo, Sleep Talk," I ordered casually.

"Oh that's not fair- Venusaur, Whips out!"

Magcargo let out a sputtered yawn.

Then he coughed up a coagulated chunk of slag and spat it towards Venusaur. The latter's vines easily intercepted the missile. With the viciousness of a pro-pitcher, it hurled the rock back into Magcargo's face.

Damn. It. All.

Of all the Fire attacks in his arsenal, he just had to go with Rock Throw.

"Power Whip!"

"Sleep Talk!" I shouted.

It was futile. My role in this round was over. Venusaur's vines became noticeably thicker, more muscular. They pummeled Magcargo, each hit knocking off bits of magma and remnant shell-casing in each direction. The leading tendrils grappled Magcargo, lifting him up into the air and squeezing the life out of him. The plant matter began showing signs of  scorching, forcing Venusaur to slam its prey into ground. Venusaur lurched over the still-incapacitated Pokémon.

"Earthquake." Violet said this with a note of finality in her voice.

I said nothing, merely watching, my mouth hung open a little.

Venusaur landed, planting the Earthquake's epicenter directly on top of my sleeping Magcargo. He disappeared into a cracked and jagged crater.

It began to sink in that I was losing. Badly. Until this moment I had felt the pressure of being outmatched and outsmarted, which were never good signs. Returning Magcargo to his pokeball, I reached around to my belt-holder and realized I had lost half my team already. I'd not only failed to KO a single one of her Pokémon, I hadn't even seen half of her team yet. And then, further realizing that my remaining team members were, respectively, damaged and paralyzed (Steelix), damaged and weak, (Magnemite), and completely inexperienced (Skarmory), the river of despair let loose its flood gates.

The desire for victory welled up in me, meeting the overwhelming sense of defeat I already bore. Their collision, the fantasy of the former and the reality of the latter, and the sheer discrepancy between the two, put my into a foul, unfriendly mood. On a different mental level, I might have been paranoid that I'd let this ugly apprehension show on my face. On a more basic level…

To hell with it. I'm mad. I hate losing. This sucks.

That's the current me, the me of the moment, the me who is desperately clutching at straw-like chances for victory, and cursing my opponent for the difficulty she was putting me under.

Not very sportsmanlike of me, is it? I had thought I could take a loss more graciously than this, especially given the circumstances of my opponent. This was, after all, a means of assuaging her fragile ego, a plight I sympathized with because of its root cause. In the grand scheme of things, one battle was not going to hurt my chances at beating probation. I should be glad about this outcome. My only concern should be if I gave her my genuine best effort, and I think I have already fulfilled that requirement.

Then why am I so mad? Why am I kicking myself over my failure, and why am I still contemplating a way to draw this match out, painfully so?

No, it's not so simple as to be summed up in a single word.

"Gym Leader! That's the second time I've have to reprimand you. Send out a Pokémon!"

"Yes Mr. Official," I replied sarcastically. "Magnemite, you're up."

Now is not the time to sort these feelings out. Look at Violet. She doesn't feel sorry for me. She seems more than a little happy to be causing me all this suffering. My feelings are justified. Just go with them, run wild, feed off the energy. We'll have time later to go all psycho-analysis on them.

Back to the battle. It was Magnemite versus Venusaur now.

Magnemite's main job was to help handicap her team in order to allow Magcargo to sweep. Venusaur should be paralyzed still, from Body Slam, making Magnemite's job moot. Well then, we can always Flash…

"Retreat! Breloom!"

"Bwe Bwe!"

Oh great, Mrs. Leech Seeder. If Magnemite stays in, it'll just become an hp battery for that mushroom.

"Come back, Magnemite! Steelix!" I switched out again.

"Low Kick."

Breloom's boxing-dance had brought it right beneath Steelix's position, before he could even materialize.

"Bre!" It let out a low-pitched cry as it launched a diving kick into Steelix's  lower torso. To my amazement, Steelix was lifted completely into the air, and came crashing down on his head. The arena shook, and even the lava around us became choppy. What a hit!

"That's going to hurt. Steelix! Hurry, Iron Tail before they Leech you!"

"Steelix is unable to battle!" the judge called out.

…

"What?"

Steelix groaned, his head shaking, but a moment later it dropped to ground.

"Are you… serious?" I wanted to address the judge, but his patience with me had already run out (bastard). Besides, it was evident that Steelix had been knocked clean out.

"I don't understand," I said, recalling my Pokémon back. There's no way that Steelix was that low on health. To be dropped by a single attack, from that Breloom? That same Breloom was landing hits all over Magneton and Steelix earlier, and wasn't doing anything! Low Kick uses the opponent's weight against it, but with Steelix's defenses, there's no way it should be THAT powerful!

The sense of defeat, earlier? Gone. Completely eclipsed by confusion and dumbness. It felt like Violet had been toying with me, teasing me, lulling me into a false sense of security. Tricking me into thinking we were playing a game of wits, when in fact, her Pokémon were monstrously more powerful than mine.

"How?"

Violet grinned, and shrugged. "What can I say. He works very hard."

"Huh." I readied my pokeball. "Magnemite."

"Hmm?"

"Thunder Wave."

"Eh?! Return! Return!" Breloom, almost in a panic, back-hopped until it was within range of Violet's pokeball. The sheen of the Thunder Wave raced across the field, hitting her replacement with paralysis-

"Broom!" Or not. The new Pokémon was unaffected by the Thunder Wave- simply because it was already paralyzed.

"Broombroom!" Breloom stood before Violet, not looking too good for the wear. It was noticeably limping and holding one side.

"You have two Breloom," I said, matter-of-factly. "In fact, you have two Venusaur as well."

"I do? That's an interesting theory."

"Don't be smug," I called her out. "It's obvious this is a different Breloom than the one that dropped Steelix. This is the one with the specialized Bullet Seeds and Substitutes. I can tell, because this Breloom is a girl."

Violet held still, for a moment. How would she react?

"Hahahaha!" Violet twirled around, her skirt splaying out, her head held back in amusement. "Wonderful! You're as smart as I thought, to have figured that out! Your friend up there only caught on after I beat him!" She nodded towards Morty. "I think this match might very well go the other way if we ever battle again."

I crossed my arms, not amused.

"So you use two of each Pokémon, each with very different specializations, to lure opponents out and create mismatches. This Breloom is good at spreading Status effects, your other is a more traditional power brawler. Of the Venusaurs, one is more ranged and special-based, while the other is more physical and bulky, and a close-quarters specialist."

Violet pantomimed a monocle across one eye. "Caption Sherlock strikes again!" she said playfully. Then she straightened up. "You are correct. I'm terribly sorry, however,  but this bluff was only part of my strategy. You were attempting to disable my team with paralysis. I was actually trying to do the same to yours, but it proved more efficient to simply match you one on one. No, that's not giving you enough credit. I was forced to take yours on one at a-"

"Magnemite, Self-Destruct."

Boom.

Attacking during a conversation? Rude? Extremely. Fair? Not at all. Legal? Yes.

Female Breloom had not even been paying attention to Magnemite. The little contraption of a Pokémon had stealthily inched itself within range the whole time we were talking. The result was a mutual KO that put an indescribable look on Violet's face. She even took a step back, as if repelled in horror.

"Good one," she said, not a little upset.

"I figured I'd save you the trouble of taking out Magnemite."

"Well, how kind of you! I believe Vileplume will suffice now." Sarcasm ahoy!

"Well," I turned at last to the companion who had waited out the entire battle beside me. "Skarmory, let's see if you can do anything."

Yes, I'm still mad. Yes, that was the reason I audaciously called for Magnemite's kamikaze attack. But, you know what? After the certainty of defeat had already been established, I feel very loose and unconcerned. The old, time-worn phrase, "Nothing to lose" applies all too well in this situation.

The two women, her and I, glared each other down.

"Vileplume, Stun Spore."

"Skarmory- um, do something. KRAW KRAW! KRAW KRAW!" I screeched the latter two lines while holding my hands out like claws.

Violet, the judge, and the audience glared at me like I had lost my marbles. The only sentient beings who ignored me were the two Pokémon on the field. The one, because it was preparing a cloud of paralytic spores. The other, because it was just plain ignoring me.

Skarmory did nothing until the mustard-colored cloud had already descended upon it. Then he jumped and fluttered and rolled through the dirt, in a vain attempt to cleanse the painful spores.

"Now, to let you know, some people figure out my strategy much earlier. They then assume Vileplume is also part of a couplet, and they adjust accordingly. That isn't the case. Recall!"

Vileplume disappeared.

"If you were attempting to set up Magcargo, then I was trying to clear the way for this fine fellow," Violet said.

"HERA-CROSS!" A larger-than-usual Heracross stood proudly on the field of battle. Skarmory regarded it warily.

"He's my team leader, and the strongest. This was a good match." She curtsied once more, then held out her hand. "Heracross! Close Combat!"

I didn't bother to shout. What good would it do? Skarmory doesn't understand me. Just please survive the first hit…

"CROSSHHHH-UFFF!" Skarmory was sent flying into the air- about a yard, after which it fluttered crazily until he regained his posture.

Heracross was sent five yards backwards.

"Huh- toughie. Heracross! Again! It's a Skarmory, you'll have to wear it down!"

This time Skarmory was hit mid-air. He went four yards straight into the ground. Heracross- it was knocked flat on its back. It got up, slowly.

"Hmm..." She grimaced. "Try Stone Edge!"

Heracross smashed the ground, splitting the dirt and driving spikes of hardened earth into Skarmory. The latter's head was battered side to side, as if on the wrong side of a MMA beat down.

Still…

"Megahorn!" A barely-audible, high-pitched humming sounded out. It was Heracross's horn, vibrating at high frequency. It lowered its appendage and charged, rampaging into Skarmory's right wing. My Pokémon crumpled for a moment…

Skarmory merely cawed, shook off the attack, and pecked a retreating Heracross.

"I… don't under-under-under-" Violet stammered and failed to finish her statement of disbelief.

"Is this really your strongest Pokémon?" I asked, half-tauntingly. Meanwhile, my actual question was the same as Violet's: how damn tough was this bird?!?!

"Close Combat!"

New result: Skarmory tucked himself into a brand-new impact crater, while Heracross fell forward on all fours. The latter appeared exhausted, the former was irritated.

"Stone Edge, Close Combat combo!" Violet ordered.

"CROSSH!"

It was well executed- Skarmory was kicked into the air, and then met both clawed fists head-on, suffering multiple body and head blows.

Which seemed to be the last straw for Skarmory. He disappeared, for an instant. There was a glint of light. My Pokémon reappeared a yard behind Heracross, holding himself elegantly poised.

Heracross slumped forward and did not get up.

"Heracross is… unable to battle!"

"WHAT?!?!" came the cry of disbelief from across the field.

A perfectly executed Aerial Ace- "Beautiful." I whispered to myself.

…

I wish the rest of the battle were as exciting, but it wasn't. Not nearly. Not for me, because my moment of sheer triumph had induced a blissful, catatonic coma. Luckily, my Pokémon was on auto-pilot and needed no input from me. For Violet, it was a steep descent into a horrifying nightmare.

Breloom attempted to Low Kick Skarmory, but the bird was too light and too… airborne… for the move to work properly. The first Venusaur attempted to Weather Ball, but without Sunny Day active the attack did nothing but earn it a Brave Bird to the face. An exhausted and confused Vileplume outright ignored its trainer (who was vainly calling for a Nature Power) and tried to Poison Powder the Steel-type. That worked about as well as one would expect. Skarmory chased Vileplume around the platform for five minutes, exclusively using Peck to torture the oversized flower to its end. The second, physical-oriented Venusaur managed to put Skarmory to sleep, and then Earthquaked and Frenzy Planted. After a battering, Skarmory woke up and Roosted off whatever traces of damage it had suffered. The battle ended when Venusaur was blown off the edge and into the lava by a Whirlwind. Here came my one fleeting moment of awareness and emotion- fear that Venusaur would die in the lava. My fears were allayed when the automatic safety features of the gym digitized and whisked the Venusaur away before permanent injury could be done.

"The battle has been decided 1-0 in favor of the Gym Leader. Good day." The judge sulked off. He seemed disappointed. Wonder what he had against me…

WHATEVER! I WON!

I leapt down from my platform, streaking towards Skarmory. The bird got my arm around its neck and then I was off again.

Violet met me in the center of the arena. She seemed a bit dazed.

How would she react? A tense, gripping moment of silence passed between us.

"You were.. every bit as good as I thought. That Skarmory… I wasn't prepared for it at all." Her voice and body language had the grace of humility in it. Perhaps, when Heracross had gone down, she had been as mad as I was when I was losing. That changed over the course of the fifteen minutes it took for Skarmory to complete his sweep.

I'm glad. I had won, of course, but I was more glad that we weren't at each other's throats. I have Violet to thank for that, of course, she's obviously handling the loss much better than I would have.

Maybe this is someone I could learn from?

She started to blubber something out.

"Please," I hushed her. I didn't need credit for what was a fluke mismatch. It was bad luck to face me the day after I caught the worst possible Pokémon for her team to face. The way she had commanded the battle completely outclassed me; my victory needs an asterisk beside it.

"You fought very well. I hope this won't dissuade you in your Gym Badge challenge."

And, hearing my tone and my compliment, things seemed to normalize between us.

"Not at all! I've been broken once, it won't happen again, especially over such a good match," she said.

Her spirit has picked up.

"And about the bad feelings-"

"Now you shouldn't worry about that!" she said.

"I do!" I replied. "I feel like there's been a bad air between us since the…  the train ride."

"Stop!" And, unexpectedly, she hugged me. "That had nothing to do with it. I'm sorry, I have been little stand-offish with you. But, it's not how you acted. Okay, maybe your behavior was extreme, but it only showed how much you care for your Pokémon. I can forgive that. I forgave it the moment it happened."

"You did?" She held me at arms length and looked me in the eye.

"Of course! What bothered me was…" and she blushed, "I'm jealous."

"Jealous?!"

"Y-yes. Jealous. You have Erika, and friends, and your Pokémon, and your gym position. I have no one. My Pokémon obey me, but they don't love me. I ignored them too much during my marriage. I ignored everyone else too, and poured all my affection into the one person who, it turned out, thought nothing of me." Her eyes softened, and shied away. "I was uncomfortable, seeing someone who had everything I didn't."

"Oh…"

How awkward. First I incite lust even though I don't think I'm attractive. Now I'm inspiring envy even though I don't think I'm all that blessed. Is she thinking at all about the uncomfortable position she's putting me in?

Don't you dare hold me in such high regard. My life is shit too.

Evil words, kept to myself. Instead:

"No worries, then. I forgive you. I feel so sorry for what he did to you- but I guess it hurts in ways beyond just losing him."

"Right," she gently nodded.

"I feel terrible now."

"Don't!"

"Okay. I won't." I conjured up a smile for her. "So, you'll continue your Gym Challenge?"

"Yes!" Violet nodded.

"Great! You're welcome to come to Olivine for a rematch- oh, but, I'm in kind of a situation where I can't afford to lose, so would you mind waiting till after December 10^th?"

"Haha, you really think I'll be good enough to win by then? I'm going to have to train much harder."

"Oh, if we had a rematch tomorrow I think you could beat me."

"Mmm, doubtful. Not with Mr. Ironsides here," she said, petting Skarmory's head. "And I think that my doppelganger strategy won't work again, so I might need to train new teammates."

"Well, good luck."

 "Thank you. Good game. I look forward to seeing you again."

We shook hands.

I actually made a friend.

Two friends.

"Skarm-Skarm." Skarmory looked up to me, cooing. He nudged my arm, eager for more head-petting.

"Well aren't you needy. I said I would love you, but now, if you keep battling like that, I'm going to adore you."

Chapter Text

I had to tell my friends to tone down the celebration, out of respect for Violet. Lyra was the most difficult to reign in.

"I'M SO EXCITED FOR-"

"SHH! Not so loud!"

"-YOU! YOU WERE AWESOME AND SKARMORY WAS-"

At which point the clearest course of action towards silencing her seemed to be throwing Skarmory in her face. She nearly fell over catching the steel bird.

"Lyra! Hold him."

"Holding him," came a mumbled reply from behind the cluster of wings and feathers.

"Thank you all for coming- but like I said, we shouldn't be gloating. Violet might be graceful, but she's probably not all that happy about losing. She's had a hard life, Pokémon battles may be all that's left for her. Don't rub my victory in her face."

"Well said." Erika patted me on the shoulder, then guided me aside. She began a conversation in a hushed tone, so the others couldn't hear.

"I take it she told you about her troubles?" she asked.

"Nothing really specific. I just sort of sensed it from our conversation. Was… was her ex abusive?" I asked timidly.

"Not physically." Erika answered. "But, she's a little- I don't know how to say it- clingy? Trusting? Neither are really the right word. In any case, he took advantage of her personality and made her very dependant on him for her self-esteem. I dare say he repressed her, mentally and socially. Since the breakup, it's like she's relearning how to be an independent woman."

"Uhuh." It made sense, with the way she was far too eager when we first met, and how she distanced herself when conflict stirred. The more depraved examples of the male gender torture me on a daily basis; I can't imagine the toll it would take on one's spirit to be married to one of those jerks.

"Don't you ever, EVER repeat this to anyone."

"I understand."

With my assurance, she returned to a normal speaking voice and we made our way back to the trio.

"Since the gym is closed, she'll be stuck here until it reopens. Meanwhile, there is a harvest festival. I'd like to attend that with her, and then maybe help her in training. You'll have to go home alone."

"Oh, okay," I said blankly. I didn't really like that idea, but was there anything I could do about it? Not really.

Oh wait-

"That's okay, I won't be alone." I said, perking up. "Morty picked up train tickets." And as soon as that came out of my mouth, my spirits fell.

"Will you be okay with him?"

"Yes," I said, taking a deep breath and not sounding too sure of myself.

"Very well then. We have a little time, let's go grab lunch."

"My dime, right?" I said.

"Yes, somewhere inexpensive."

We informed the crowd, and then set off for the nearest fast-food joint on foot.

"Hey Lyra, you said you'd drag that other guy along. Silver, was it? Where is he?"

"I did drag him along!" She seems indignant and excitable. Not unusual. "I got him seated right beside me before the match. We were gonna root for you all together! But then he saw someone and vanished. Didn't even bother to say why or goodbye or anything! I feel stood up!"

"Because you annoy him," Ethan said.

"No I don't!"

Ethan rolled his eyes.

"Huh." Little star-like dots appeared in my mind, and began tracing between each other like constellations.

"Silver said he was trailing Red, didn't he? Guess who I saw on the gym floor?"

"Red?!" she exclaimed.

"Yep."

"What is he still doing in town?!"

"Don't know, but I bet Silver spotted him too and that's why he ran off."

"Interesting," Morty interjected himself. "I've heard rumors that Red was on the move in Johto. Something about him and his boss having a public falling out."

"You missed last night," I reminded him. "Red's on a tour of Johto so that he can play into the Johto League Tournament."

"Oh is that what he's doing? I'm surprised. Shouldn't he already have the Johto badges?"

"That's what I thought." I need to remember to ask Whitney about that. She's been an official Gym Leader longer than me, and Goldenrod is a more popular destination for trainers; maybe she remembers if Red came through Johto way back in the day. "I don't know. Did you ever face him?"

"Can't recall."

"Huh. So, what's this about his boss?" I asked.

"Oh that. It was about a week ago. Apparently Mr. Stone and him got into a shouting match in front of the media at Pokémon HQ, over in Castor. Pokeballs came out, death threats issued, etc. etc. Although, this is according to tabloids; they're probably exaggerating. The buzz was that the CEO kicked the champ out of the region and he's been sulking in Johto since."

"Sulking? Kind of sounds like he's been banished here," Lyra said.

"Perhaps, in a sense. Stone could have barred him from the mainstream competitions."

"Which would mean he's trying to enter the Johto circuit because he doesn't have any other choice," I mused. "Speaking of Mr. Stone, who won the exhibition match? I never followed up on it." Between probation and angsting over this mongrel walking beside me, it hadn't been a high priority.

A massive grin broke out on Morty's face, stretching deep into each cheek.

"Stone, of course."

"Oh god, oh god," Lyra said. "I'm getting tingly just remembering it."

"Really?"

"Ohhhh yeah." Lyra shook her head in the affirmative. Even Ethan nodded.

"I only caught the last half, but most of what I saw- it put me and Volkner's match to shame," Morty said, his eyes glazing over. "Well, except for that last exchange."

"Yeah, the first nine-tenths were pure gold," Lyra said.

"It was very misfortunate, the way it ended," Erika added.

I turned my head from face to face to face, feeling completely left out.

"Can you guys just tell me what happened?"

They all began chattering excitedly, until Morty stepped in and took control.

"Okay, so it's former and current world champion, so you can imagine how good the battle is. Tactics, power shots, tough last stands, trick plays, the works. Towards the end, it was close, but Red had done a better job of controlling the flow of battle. He managed to isolate it down to his Charizard versus Stone's damaged Metagross. Fire v. Steel. So, the two pokes are one-on-one, grand finale, Charizard goes for Fire Blast, a sure-fire KO, Stone's about to get his first official defeat ever- and Fire Blast misses. By, like, twenty feet. Metagross then scores a critical hit Psychic on Charizard, brings it to the ground. Charizard recovers, uses Flamethrower at nearly point blank range- and it misses. Whish! Metagross goes to finish the battle with a Thunder Punch."

"Misses? Flamethrower? Point-blank?!"

"I know, right? It's not like Metagross or anyone else did anything to affect Charizard's accuracy- you know what the paparazzi later said happened?"

"What?"

"Allergies. You know the seafoam weed that grows all over Olivine's shoreline?" I nodded. "Gave the poor Pokémon allergies. That same battle happens anywhere else, or any other time of year, Red wins and Stone's perfect record goes down in flames."

"Aha, aha, you're so punny."

"Heh. That's not the worst. So, Meta's got a fist full of lightning and is going in for the kill. Red orders Charizard to Fire Blast the ground beneath it- And it works. Metagross goes down, KO'd, Charizard follows a few seconds later. No one is sure of what happened; they call the judges in. And here is why so many people are upset- the judges rule that Charizard KO'd himself with the Fire Blast. If Charizard was ruled down by Metagross's Thunder Punch, he gets the benefit of dropping second and Red wins. But rules state you can't win a mutual KO by self-KO, so the victory is awarded to Stone."

"Oh wow. I can understand if fans are upset by that." It's never pretty when they call in the officials to determine a winner based on technicalities.

"Upset? You're kidding. You must've been living under a rock, Jazz. The fansites EXPLODED that night. Hundreds and thousands of pages of furious, volcanic fans, even a small riot at the Battle Tower. Enormous outrage throughout the pro circuits. Pundits labeling it the biggest officiating blunder of the century. Most are calling it a conspiracy, to keep Stone's perfect record intact. Some are saying the argument between the two last week started because Red accused Stone of sheltering the officials from investigation."

"Oh joy, looks like I missed out on something big." Actually, I'm a little happy. I was a big fan of Steven Stone while he was still a trainer. Red, as a trainer, is okay by me, but I'm glad to have an undefeated living legend to root for. Still, to keep said perfect record by a technicality... kind of lame.

One way or the other, though, it really doesn't affect me. As far as their personalities go, from what I remember of the gala, Stone is a sly bastard who's more than willing to use employees to cover his own butt; and Red is a rude, anti-social prick. Either one winning, officiating fiat or no, has no real bearing on my personal life.

"Well, maybe a little," I accidentally said aloud.

"What's that?"

"I guess, if Red can beat Stone, that just makes my loss to him that much more inevitable when he comes to Olivine."

"Hey, you never know," Lyra said hopefully. "Upsets happen. Red's not Stone, he's not invincible."

"Right, a lowly Gym Leader on probation is going to upset the world champion."

"With that mindset, of course it will never happen," Erika said.

"That's right!" Back to Lyra. "He's lost a few times. Mr. Textbook, how many losses does Red have?" She turned to her boyfriend.

"18," he answered.

"See? 18! Double digits!"

"Yeah, out of two thousand!" I retorted. I hung my head in despair.

"I'm sorry. If it makes you feel any better, I'll probably have to see him first." Morty lined up behind me and began rubbing my shoulders. Just the thought of losing was putting me in knots. It didn't matter if it was one battle. It didn't matter how forgiving it would look to be steamrolled by the world champion. It was still dejecting, still hurtful, still humiliating. The bigger the power differential between Pokémon, the greater risk there is for long-term injury. AND, I honestly don't know how many losses I can afford before December 10^th. One? Five? Ten? I'm in a deep hole on my ratio; I've already resigned myself to bully-beating schoolkids and newbies. On top of that, I have to win against all the serious challengers too! My mind broiled on, only dimly aware of the soothing massage on my backside. At least, until I caught sight of Erika's staring.

"Did I give you permission to touch me?" I shrugged away from the backrub. Morty's caresses were calming, but too embarrassing to tolerate. He side-stepped my protests by walking past me, his attention drawn away and ahead.

"That place looks okay," he said, pointing out a patty-joint.

Ordering lunch was quick, and relatively financially painless. Erika ate lightly, affording me a nicer sandwich than I otherwise would have stomached.

"Ooh! Raspberry chocolate shakes!" Lyra  upended her wallet. "Bah, out of cash." She peeled out a worn, much-used credit card, and was about to hand it to the clerk. A hand interceded.

"You don't have any credit on that." Ethan shook his head.

"But I want a shake. The overdraft fees aren't that much…"

"You have no concept of fiscal responsibility, do you?" He snatched the card from her hand, and then spent a minute playing keep-away with his girlfriend.

"Give it! I want a shake! I want a shake! I'm craving." The farce continued on, to the clerk's amusement and stifled laughter.

"You can't spend money you don't have!"

Lyra froze up.

"What if I told you I need it? What if I said I'm pregnant?"

"You're what?!"

Ethan's moment of shock gave Lyra the opening she needed to snatch her card back.

"One Raspberry-"

"Hold on-" Ethan pushed himself between her and the cashier. Lyra protested, to no avail.

"Are you serious?!" he asked, nearly sputtering.

"Of course not! You're so gullible." Ethan's cheeks lit up, rosy as the raspberry cream Lyra was trying to order. Mine too. Morty and Erika passed a knowing look between them.

If Ethan were able to fall for a preggers claim like that so easily, then… they really… were… oh gosh I don't want to think about that!

"But if I were-"

"Alright! Drop it! I'll buy the shake, just don't say things like that!" Ethan fessed up his wallet, and one raspberry chocolate shake appeared over the counter. Lyra began sipping, delighted. Ethan had his hands full with their regular order.

Poor guy.

It was getting close to departure time, so we elected to eat on the run. Lyra and Ethan strolled ahead, chatting about something in hushed tones and acting very much like a goofy, entrenched couple.

"Does that bother you?" Morty asked me in between mouthfuls.

"What?" I responded.

"That your friends are 'doing it'?"

"Not this again," I sighed.

"Oh be honest. Why aren't you honest? You seem to demand that from your peers, but it's not a one-way road you know."

"Fine!" I huffed, annoyed. "Yes, I'm embarrassed! I don't think what they do when they 'visit the daycare' needs to be public information. It bothers me very much!"

"Is your reason really that shallow?" he insisted.

"Yes!"

"It's not deeper? You're not embarrassed because you're secretly-"

I had my hands full with my lunch, so I resorted to stomping his toe.

"Ouch!"

"We've gone over this! I'm bothered because it's a perverted topic, not because I harbor conflicting emotions about it!"

"Do you believe her?" Morty asked, addressing Erika. The recipient of the question gazed off into the sky, aloof.

"I'm not a mind reader. With a question like that, isn't it most important if she believes herself?" Morty and Erika both turned to me.

"Well?" they said in unison.

"When you put it that way, the answer is only important to me, therefore I am not obligated to tell you." I shoved the macy-mac sandwich into my mouth and began devouring it at Carvanha speed. My chin was becoming soaked in sauces with each frenzied bite, but at least my friends couldn't see my blushing grimace. I could not, would not, will not let them know my inner feelings on this! However, they continued to stare and wait for a hypothetical answer, even as the sandwich disappeared. Luckily, a round of what appeared to be "Zangoose and Seviper play Time-Attack Twister" broke out between the couple up front, distracting my interrogators and giving me a reprieve.

Ten minutes later, we arrived at our motel. Morty went in to pack his luggage, Erika to clean up hers and pack mine for me. I pardoned myself for a trip to the pokecenter.

"Oh, hello again. Hey!" It was the same nurse as last night. I kind of feel sorry for her, to draw consecutive night and morning shifts. She perked up when she saw me. "I thought you looked familiar. You're a Gym Leader, right? Mineral Badge, right?" She lifted a magazine with a labeled group shot of the Johto squad.

"That's right."

"Trainers coming in say you had a battle at the gym? Right? It was a big win for you! They're really excited."

"I suppose…"

The nurse stood at attention. "Well, if you're here to heal your Pokémon, we're a first-class facility! I'll be sure to take extra special care of your Pokémon's recovery."

"I'm sure you are the best- but if it's alright with you, I'd like to use the PC."

"Oh, okay. But if you need anything-"

"I'll call," I reassured her. I made my way over to the computer station.

The PC slowly came to life.

Please enter your password.

Fine, fine, what a hassle.

I typed it in, and the account menu appeared.

Deposit Pokémon.

There was no need to risk my Pokémon becoming lost a second time. They would be sent to my home PC via the network, safe and sound. I also decided to dump my spare pokeballs and items. Admittedly, not much remained from when I used the flash-bangs to escape the Skarmory nest. When all was done, my purse was considerably lighter. Only one pokeball remained on my person: Skarmory. It's best not to send him home through the network, too much of a culture shock for now. I figured I'd let him out so he can see his new hometown as we rode in on the train. Good idea.

Back at the motel, Erika had a dress laid out. It was a winter-shaded knee length affair, with wrist-length sleeves and a turtleneck.

"Don't tell me…"

"Yes, it's for you."

"I don't want to steal any more of your wardrobe," I protested. Erika took my wrist, flipped me onto the bed, and began disrobing me. The dirty jeans were the first off, then my T-shirt, and very suddenly I was down to my under-garments.

"If you were a boy, I'd be screaming rape right now-" I warned her.

"Don't rush to judge people based on their sex, young miss." She jumped me, and soon enough I was tucked into her dress. It was a little loose, but soft and warm.

"And don't worry about my wardrobe. I have a shopping addiction, and need more room in there anyways."

"Hand-me-downs," I muttered.

"Alas, poverty, hang thy ugly head and shame us no longer," Erika responded poetically. I twirled around in the dress, noticing how the belt sash dangled out too long, and how the knee-length hem had become shin-length when put on me.

"It's too big," I said. She eyed me up and down.

"No, not too much. Wait, are you insinuating something?"

I flashed her an evil grin.

"Hmph. Clever." She took me by the shoulders and spun me around. "It still fits well enough. You'll be all ready and cute for your date."

"What date? I don't have a date."

"So innocent," she sighed.

 Morty met us outside, his bag slung over his shoulder. Erika guided me out, as if a parent offering their child as a bride. The boy sharply inhaled upon witnessing my new outfit.

"What?"

"You look- queenly," he stated. I looked at myself in the window. Queenly? That's a bit over the top. Maybe more- teacherly, like I belonged in a preschool, chasing down five-year-olds.

"This is goodbye," Erika said quietly. Was that a tear in her right eye? Left eye, I mean.

"For three days?" I inquired.

"Thereabouts." She embraced me tightly, and then dropped my bag into my arms.

"You take care of yourself. No jumping off the train," she warned in a fake-stern tone.

"Okay, haha, I promise not to do that."

"And you," she said, turning to Morty. "Take care of her."

"By my great-grandmother's ghost," he said, holding a hand to his heart.

"Take care of Violet," I said.

"Of course. And…"

She pulled me in close, to whisper in my ear.

"Give him a chance, will you?"

I gave her an old-fashioned eye-roll. UGH!

"Rhythmic thumping," Morty said.

"Gross."

Of course I knew he was referring to the motion of the train bumbling its way over the tracks. His hand idly rested on the window sill, jumping with each small jolt of the vehicle.

"It's not like the Magnet Train to Kanto. The tracks are probably, what, thirty years old?"

"What's on your mind?" I asked.

"Huh?"

"What's on your mind?" I repeated.

"Nothing. Just musing about the train."

I slumped into my seat. As if I'd take that statement at face value. 'Rhythmic thumping' is not a phrase you use idly. He was concerned about something.

"Well, now that you mention it, I was thinking about your battle," he ventured, still staring out the window.

Liar. You're only deflecting your real intentions.

"I liked the way you played it. You were pretty good out there," he said.

"Don't patronize me. Everyone knows I won by accident."

"Accident? That's what you call it? Not every battle is won by strategy. I didn't plan to have Mismagius on backup so Gengar could explode. But it turned out, recalling Mismagius was a good move that allowed me to win. In turn, I think you made some intelligent choices there that won you the battle."

"Intelligent choices?" I made the "quotes" sign with my hands. "Like what? -Besides catching Skarmory."

"Well, first off…" he launched into a steady drone, detailing and breaking down the battle for me. I still don't believe it's Pokémon battles that are on his mind, though. The way he's still gazing into thin air, and fidgeting about, he's hiding his real thoughts. This topic is only a smokescreen. But, to be honest, chatting about Pokémon battles was preferable to the topic of the 'rhythmic  thumping' of the train's motion. "Do you know how I lost to her?" He paused to wait for a reply.

"No. In fact, that advice you gave me was pretty useless. 'Remember how Volkner almost beat me? That's what you should do!'" I paraphrased. "What was that supposed to mean?"

He glanced at me, condescendingly.

"I was talking about the Lum Berry. Her team doesn't have that much offensive firepower besides the Heracross, and they're slow across the board."

"Lacking firepower? Bah! and Humbug! Both Venusaurs and the other Breloom were plenty offensive."

"Sorry," he said. "I didn't get that impression during my battle. I think you were just put into some very situational disadvantages there. But otherwise, if you surprise that Heracross, trick it into thinking you're disabled and then strike when it has its guard down, you can faint it, easily. After losing her powerhouse, she would be hard-pressed to KO anything bulky. That was my thinking."

"Well, what may be true for you wasn't for me."

"Right." He started rapping against the window. It was annoying. "I lost because I kept mispredicting the Breloom, and my whole team was put to sleep. After that, it was just one fucking Stone Edge after another from Heracross."

"Hehehe." I giggled. "Bad memories?" He nodded, and continued rapping the window pane. "Stop rapping the window please." He complied.

"So," he continued, "I was hoping you'd realize her doppelganger trick before the battle got out of hand. It kind of turned out, it didn't matter. Your tactic, using Steelix to para-shuffle her team, kind of broke her rhythm and made it a little pointless to trick you."

"No, it worked. Steelix and Magcargo went down because of it.

"Yeah, but it could have been worse. She only managed to use it to deploy her offensive pokemon. Against me, it was used to deploy her disablers, which is what she was aiming for in the first place. You hate switching wars. I think that messed her up, a little, when you refused to switch out even when it looked like you could gain a better advantage. Specifically when you didn't retreat Magneton when it was Spored to sleep. She was forced into the Substitute minefield instead of drawing out and Sporing more of your Pokémon, specifically Magcargo."

"So what? It's not like any of that had a material impact. Skarmory did virtually all of the work. And he didn't even take orders. I had no input into the things that actually won me the battle. Therefore, I say again, so what?"

"So! So there was something you did that assured you the win. The six million dongle question is this: do you know what it was you did?"

Should I answer? I have an idea of what he's getting after, but I wonder if I should go off on a tangent and confront him over what's really bothering him.

"Yes, explode Magnemite." I answered. Despite myself, Morty was still managing to draw my attention away from his moodiness and back into the mindset of a trainer. It was easier, and more fun, for me to analyze Pokémon battles than to worry about his private thoughts. He knew this about me, and was using it against me. Clever bastard.

"Explain," he commanded.

Fine, let's humor him.

"I actually had the feeling that Skarmory would do well in that battle. I wasn't completely right-  I thought he'd pick up on obeying commands faster, and on that I was wrong. However, he is way tougher than I ever imagined. That allowed him to take the beating he did while he figured out he needed to simply attack the Grass-types. So," I paused for dramatic effect. "Taking out the Leech Seeding Breloom was an accidental stroke of genius. It was the only Pokémon that stood a chance of taking down Skarmory, via stall tactics."

"See? You figured that out, you're smart. It's the little instinctual things you do that set you up for success, as much as the big things you do deliberately."

"But you know what?" I countered.

"What?"

"I only did that because I was angry. In the end, even my best decision was a fluke."

"Hm." He was still staring off into the distance, and began rapping his knuckles again. "Can't argue with that. I guess you're right."

"I know I'm right."

"Skarmory has promise. Good pick."

"Mmhmm." I palmed my lone pokeball, thinking fondly on my new team member. Skarmory, or as I'm starting to think of him, Skarm-Skarm. Once this bird learns to take orders, we can teach him some TM's and start training him in my game plan. Then… Then he'll become a powerhouse. I don't think I've ever caught a Pokémon with this much natural talent. This is a good feeling. Confidence. Real confidence, the kind that makes me feel like my future is in my own hands.

My mind drifted off from there. There was so much to do, so much training to get done, so much paperwork to finish. I got caught up planning it all out, going through each step and what I had to do to complete those steps. Even if the mountain of work and the sheer cliff of the win ratio seem daunting, being able to mentally think it through eased the stress off. It was therapeutic.

And from there, I started imagining how happy I'd be to get past probation, and all the things I wanted to do after.

Haaaa…..

…

"This is the conductor speaking," came a voice over the speaker. "I'm glad to say the traffic snarls of the past week have been cleared up, and we are actually ahead of schedule. We'll be reaching Mahogany in an hour, and Ecruteak four hours after that. I hope you're having a pleasant ride; sorry for the bumps, once we get out of the mountains in a few minutes the going should be much smoother."

Huh? How long had I drifted off? Ecruteak in five hours? The sun's still over the horizon, so I can't have drifted off for long, I think. Damn it. How tired am I, for me to daydream like that?

I glanced over to my traveling companion. Geeze. I thought I was tuckered. He's cold out.

Should I take advantage of his slumber?

Of course! I pawed through his bag, finding absolutely nothing of interest (I was almost disappointed not finding a porn mag). His lone pokeball was attached to his belt; and I had no interest in playing with Gengar anyways. There was a dry-erase marker, which I contemplated using on his face. I nestled the marker in my hand, thinking of the possibilities.

"Huh?"

His eyes popped open, to find a wet, colored instrument poised directly over his brow. He froze up, as did I.

"Did you doodle on my face?"

"Maybe."

He proceeded to bat the marker away and frantically wipe his sleeves across his face, while I giggled helplessly.

"What did you do?" I pointed to the window's reflection, where Morty discovered his face was clear of defamations.

"I didn't have time," I explained.

"Thank goodness."

"I was only trying to fix that ugly mug of yours."

He laughed out loud.

"Of course you think it's funny," I said. "You take everything as a compliment."

"That's not it." he settled down.

"What is it then?"

"You. The idea of you pulling a prank."

"Is it so hard to believe?"

"Yeah. I mean, you had your moments, but most of middle school, you were always Little Miss Proper, best student in the class, best behaved, most likely to become a gnarled old school mistress. To think of you scrawling over someone's sleeping face…"

"I'm not perfect. You should know that."

"It's cute," he said suddenly. I stared at him, not a little perplexed. "I'd let you doodle and 'fix this ugly mug' while I'm wide awake if it made you happy."

My stare turned icy. I said nothing, so he went on.

"Calling my mug 'ugly', huh? Okay. That's okay. But, may I ask you a personal question?"

"Maybe."

"What would you consider handsome, in a guy? Physically, I mean."

I mulled the question, and whether or not to even answer it. Does it matter? Do I even have preferences?

Maybe…

"I like when a guy has nice hair," I admitted.

"What kind of hair? Brown? Auburn? Black?"

"Any color, it doesn't matter. Except gingers."

"What's wrong with gingers?" he asked.

"It just looks funny, and odd, and wrong. It's not natural."

"But redheads make for beautiful women."

"Oh, no, you're right. I just think it's a bad shade for a guy's hair to be. It's like the female's bleach-blonde equivalent for guys."

"And blonde guys?" he inquired.

"They're okay." He seemed to wince upon hearing this answer. "Besides that, I don't care about the color. It's the texture, how rich and soft it is." Just like yours, Morty. I suddenly had an impulse to reach up and feel his hair. He even nodded forward, as if inviting me to do so. But I won't.

"And long," I went on. "Not too long. Not girly-long, like mine. Just long enough, maybe ear-length. And don't gel it. I hate when men gel it up." Because then I can't play with it, I silently added.

"So besides hair, what else?"

"I don't like fat people. Or body-builders, either. Skinny-eh, I can tolerate that, but if he's too much on the heavy end of the scale, he'll lose my interest."

"That's not nice."

"You asked what I find attractive! I'm being honest."

"Honesty can hurt others."

"Am I hurting you, personally?"

"Not really," he admitted.

"Then shut up and let me go on. I mean, I know you're not supposed to treat other people differently based on their looks, but does that apply to the kind of people we find attractive, too? It's not something we choose or have control over. Attractiveness is all about looks, and looks come from genes, mostly. You're a guy, you should know better."

"Well, personalities can be attractive too," he replied.

"Agh!" He turns everything against me! "You know I meant physical attractiveness. There's a big difference! You're a prime example! Oops." I didn't mean to say that last part out loud. Morty leaned back.

What was worse: to insinuate that I think he's attractive, or that he has a bad personality?

"Go on," was all he said.

"Heh." I took a moment to compose myself, and then think of other characteristics. "I like a great smile. Not too tan. Not too muscle-bound, like Chuck. Think, um, sleek. And tall. And… I don't know. I guess the most important thing is the face, but I don't know how to describe faces."

"I see."

"I think, subjectively, that you're physically handsome," I ventured, to see how he would react.

He closed his eyes and his face contorted. Did that affect him?

"I could say the same," came his deliberate, measured response.

"Is that what you wanted to hear?" I asked. He turned and looked me in the eyes. He did have mesmerizing eyes. Like wells. Deep. You could fit galaxies in there, and I wouldn't put it past him to be hiding galaxies' worth of thoughts behind them. Why wouldn't he let me in, then? That was the point of me even bothering to share my silly opinions on personal tastes. To see if it would get him to open up.

"I was curious."

"Morty," I said, exasperation and frustration evident.

After a pause, I continued.

"Now that I've shared, it's your turn."

"Hmm? You want to know what I find attractive?"

"No, I know enough about your tastes, perv."

"Then what would you like to know?"

"There's been something that's been bugging me for the past few days."

"That is?" He's off guard. He doesn't know what I'm talking about.

"You can't send Pokémon through the PC System without a password. You don't have my password, so how did you fetch my Pokémon from Treyarch's?"

"What? Huh?!"

He was blind-sided by the question. Yes, it was completely out of left field. My purpose in asking it was as much to see his surprised and confounded face as it was to get an answer. Besides, I already suspected the answer, I only needed confirmation.

"My friend is a good hacker, he got your password," Morty answered without looking at me.

"Liar. Tell me the truth."

He fidgeted and grimaced. He doesn't want to tell me.

"There's-"

"THE TRUTH, MORTY."

"I… I…" My hard stare wasn't going to back down. "The hard way," he finally managed to utter. "I went back and got them, myself."

"Using the plane?"

"Yes."

It took us 10 hours to reach Blackthorn by train. It was a 2.5 hour flight. Given an hour of layovers, he could reach Blackthorn, turn around for Ecruteak, grab my Pokeballs, and return to Blackthorn, in about 9.5 hours.

"You knew about it?" he asked. I nodded. "How?"

"You've spent this whole weekend tired, like you were jet-lagged. You have luggage on you, even though you left Treyarch's for the airport with nothing on you. And yes, the password deal. You're a klutz with computers, anyways, you'd never figure out my password."

He sighed, and leaned back in his chair. He looks relieved, like he had some big secret that is now out in the open, but no one cares.

"Yes, that's all true."

"I'm not done."

He eyed me.

"Three plane tickets in one day? With no advance notice? You're not getting economy class like that. You must've paid for first-class seats."

Morty reluctantly nodded in affirmation.

"That's not cheap. That's more than an entire paycheck for me. How'd you afford it?"

Morty doesn't have a secondary business, like Erika. His family isn't rich. Where'd the funds come from?

"The cash prize from winning the Gym Leader's Tournament. Just about all of it."

My turn to nod. That makes sense.

"Jasmine, I really don't want to talk-"

"Shush. I have one last question."

"I won't answer it."

"Yes, you will," I insisted.

"No."

"Why?"

"Because I won't."

"'Why' is the question dumbass. Why'd you go through all of that effort and spend all of that money?"

"Because I know how much your Pokémon mean to you."

"That's extrapolation, I want to know why *you*, yourself, did it." I must be pink for all the emotions stirring inside me. I had been staring directly at him, and hadn't dropped that stare since the conversation started. He had wilted under my gaze, his eyes roving the seats and the passing scenery, anything but look me eye to eye.

"You know why I did it."

"Yes, but I need to hear it from you."

"I don't want to say it."

"Why not?"

"Because you-" and he stopped mid-sentence.

"I what?"

"It's not something I can say."

"Why not?" We're repeating ourselves. "Say it!" I hissed.

"Because you won't be honest with me."

An insult. A criticism. Instantly analyzed, internalized, revolted against, forgiven, and pushed aside.

"I will be honest. I am always honest. You know that. What is the real reason you can't spit it out?"

"Because…" and he held himself, poised, as if about to answer. But the rhythmic thumping of the train wheels upon the tracks was the only sound. If he didn't answer, if he wasn't going to answer, I'll-

"Because you won't reciprocate."

"Please say it," I implored. It was, as best as I'm able, a tender, gentle request.

He tensed, and then sputtered it out.

"I like you… Do you like me?"

"I want to like you."

His look of shock was profound. To hear that, from me? To him, it must be an emotional super-nova. Now, finally, (and I glanced around to make sure we had privacy) I felt like I could let loose.

"I've wanted to like you for a long time. It's like a feeling, in my chest, in my head. Like you always had this potential to be my perfect someone. It's faded in and out over the years. Grown, diminished, blossomed, died. Since the lighthouse- that time- at the lighthouse- it's become so incredibly strong, and that night I started recognizing it for what it is. A yearning for something that's not quite there. A wish, a hope. So let me say it again-

I WANT TO LIKE YOU. But every time I tried, you messed it up. You went out with other girls, you teased me, you've been lewd to me, you've betrayed me. Indigo… hell and heavens, Indigo, I was furious then! I was ready to murder you!

But now- NOW?! I still, even after all of that, deep down, want to like you; but can't, not yet. You have to earn my feelings, and guess what-

You are.

You are winning me over every day, every good deed, every little word of kindness. You went and spent a bloody fortune for- what? To assuage the irrational zealotry I have for my Pokémon? You can't comprehend how much that means to me!"

I took his left hand in my own.

"I won't promise anything yet. Not yet. But if you like me, if you want my affections, if you l-l-nnph, if you-" I'm stuttering. "If y-y-you" Argh! Why is it so hard to say! Force it out! "If you LOVE me," HAA! "-keep doing what you're doing. You'll be rewarded."

His eyes, drawn in by mine, now turned away. His hand forcefully withdrew from my grip.

"Don't say that," he said softly. "I don't deserve it."

"I said it. Deal with it."

He retreated back into the recess of his seat. He held his head in his hand, his brow furrowed, his eyes and mouth clenched shut. He wouldn't respond to anything, not even my touch.

He looks… hurt.

Not even in the lighthouse did he look so… vulnerable. I mean, now that I can compare. Now that I see him, clutching himself, looking truly pitiable…

At the lighthouse, he was still acting. Maybe not intentionally. Maybe it was only half the door open. Here, right now, without saying a word, I could see his true feelings. And those feelings?

They're tender. They're sad. I don't understand. I couldn't.

Was this what I expected, when I decided to tell him my feelings?

Is he hurt? Is the fact that he still hasn't completely won me painful to him? Is he overjoyed that I finally, out loud, expressed even the hope of affection towards him? Are the emotions too much, too fast, for him to deal with? Did he expect, when he started inquiring into my likes and dislikes in the male figure, to receive such a round-about, conditional confession? Is this like a dream to him, a murky illusion, too good to be true? It certainly feels like a dream to me. And now I'm getting upset, because even when I tug his arm, he won't say anything.

"Morty, please."

Without looking at me, without opening his eyes or saying anything, he responded. His near arm settled down, his hand took mine, and held it, fingers interlocking.

 We remained there, still and silent, hands intertwined, for hours. Mahogany whistled by without a stir.

The picture of emotions, such as it were, only changed when I felt the need to use the restroom. I quietly left, came back, and found my companion asleep, gently snoring. His headband had slid down, covering one eye. Beyond him, the scenery was washed out by twilight. The now-familiar sight of an endless procession of trees skimmed by, too fast to count.

I lay down beside him, also tempted by the fading light and the rigors of the weekend into napping. Unlike our first train, this one was headed directly to Olivine. It would only stop at Ecruteak long enough to exchange passengers.

"Please don't leave without saying goodbye, kay?" I mumbled to his sleeping form, before drifting off to darkness.

…

"Goodbye."

"Hmm?"

And, before I struggled back to waking, he embraced me, and left, and the train was pulling out of Ecruteak station.

I saw him through the window,  walking slowly along the platform with his duffel over his shoulder. A group of friends rushed up to greet him. There were two guys, one who seemed to be Jeff, from the gala, and another I didn't know, and they both high-fived him. Then he turned and embraced two women- one older, elderly, with crystalline blonde hair and an elegant blue dress who seemed familiar; and another, a tanned girl with a flower perched upon her head, to which he gave his final embrace.

As the five of them set off into the night, Morty turned his head, watching the train slide away. I waved, hoping he could see me in the window.

Hoping that I could see him again, soon.

Chapter Text

"Earthquake!" I commanded. To my utter lack of surprise, she opted to draw patterns-8s across the floor of the arena. The enemy Sudowoodo purposely took the first few hits, biding its time. At the turn of the fourth pass, it used Counter, stopping Graveler in her tracks. The foe followed through with a Wood Hammer, fainting her.

I sighed. Time for Skarmory to bail me out, again.

"Skarmory, attack!"

Skarmory flapped onto the field. My human opponent, an elderly lady in a plaid coat, looked at my Pokémon apprehensively.

"Skar!"

"Sudowoodo, Counter!" This was an interesting Sudowoodo. It seemed it was trained in the ways of judo. It kept feinting inwards, attempting to draw an attack out of Skarmory in order to counter-attack. The tactic had helped it Brick Break Steelix into submission. However, it was rather useless against my unorthodox Skarmory.

"SKAR!" My bird looked back towards me.

"Just attack!" I implored. He kept staring at me, which induced Sudowoodo to jump in to close range. It let loose a Hammer Arm, catching Skarmory upside the beak. It immediately fell into a defensive pose, ready to counter-counter-attack.

"You can't really provoke him," I said aloud, but maybe not loud enough for my opponent to hear. "He just runs away- like that," I finished as Skarmory leapt into the air, squawking angrily. He landed on top of a massive boulder, unearthed earlier in the battle.

"Don't lose patience! Wait for it to attack first!" the lady advised her Pokémon. I admit, she herself was patient and possessed nerves of steel. She never commanded for a first-strike, always having faith in her Pokémon's defense. Sadly, her Pokémon weren't quite as disciplined, earlier costing her Hitmontop and Ursaring a trip to the knockout line.

"Wait for it, wait for it."

"Skarmory! Skarm-Skarm! Metal Claw? Please?"

"Skar!" He's barely learned his own name, let alone the 'attack' command. It's been useless trying to get him to use individual moves. Thankfully, he's improving each day. It shouldn't take too much longer now. Unfortunately, he's also got a stubborn streak to match my own, and doesn't care for combat, especially the close-quarters kind.

Skarmory remained on his roost, occasionally letting off an Air Cutter. Sudowoodo tried to dodge, couldn't, but didn't matter because the attack didn't do much damage. At the same time, he couldn't jump worth beans and didn't want to try to climb the boulder to reach Skarmory. This stalemate lasted five minutes, before the ranged attacks began wearing the Sudowoodo's health and patience down.

"Rock Smash and then retreat!" its trainer finally ordered.

"Woo-ha-do!"

Skarmory's perch blew apart under the judo blows, dropping the bird into the pile of rubble. Sudowoodo failed to take heed of its trainer's full command, however, and clawed forward for the kill. Skarmory screeched. Flashes of a Steel Wing sliced through the falling rubble, catching Sudowoodo in its own charge. The Rock-type clutched its midriff, and then, five seconds later, fell over.

"That's the match, thank you for the battle," I said, recalling my Pokémon. I waved the lady goodbye as politely as I could (she was about to cry), and then made my way to the back office.

…

"What am I going to do with you?"

"Grava."

Graveler sulked in a corner.

"I mean, really now. I thought you wanted to be more active? I've let you battle, even let you fight your own way!" Which typically meant nonstop Rollouts, if she did anything at all. I've put her into 16 battles over the past three days. The results: 6 KO's due to blissful Rollout derbies, 7 KO's due to complete inaction, 3 forfeits because Graveler refused to even release from her pokeball, 0 enemy KO's. Overall, I lost 8 of those matches, mainly due to her insubordination. The wins were largely thanks to Skarmory's more productive form of stubbornness.

"Graveler, it really hurts. I don't know what to do; I don't know what you want from me."

"Grrv."

She rolled herself into a tight ball.

"What have I done that's been so horrible?" I asked her. She let out a low, grainy growl, as if to say 'you know what you've done'. I tried to approach her, touch her. She had no where to go, but still she tucked herself tighter, hugged the corner tighter.

She's acting like an abuse victim, I realized. That makes me feel like crap. Seriously, crap. Like a criminal. Guilt. This isn't a feeling I'm used to at all, and it hurts all the more for that.

"I know we've had rough times together," I said, softly. "I know… I know now you didn't want to be caught. More so than the others. You didn't want to be a trainer's Pokémon. You especially didn't want to be my Pokémon. I can't erase the things we went through, or didn't go through, but I can make it back up to you. Just please… don't shut me out."

There was no response from the Pokémon.

I began stroking her side. It was, as usual, caked in mud. Her rough, stony skin, cloven and ridged like the sole of a hiking boot, always had dirt and debris ingrained into it. There was a time when I would force her to sit still while I hosed her down after a battle. She hated that, and fought the whole way through. Eventually, I gave up, and just stopped letting her out into my apartment. She became an "outside" Pokémon. Even now, the floor where she had stood bore muddy footprints.

"I could… let you inside more? I'll clean up after, I guess. Maybe we can try sand-blasting instead of water?"

"Grrv." She shrugged away from my petting.

"Is it because I haven't evolved you? I'm sorry, I don't know how to do that. You know we've tried…"

Half a summer was wasted on that endeavor. I tried everything, searched the internet and queried every Pokémon researcher, and none of their methods worked.

"Is it food?" No answer. "Is it? Do you want better meals? I can do that, get you whatever you want." No answer or response of any kind.

"Do you want friends? I could get another Geodude, or Graveler. I can upgrade your pokeball. I heard they have dream-inducers; it makes the pokeball feel less like a coma. How about treats? Toys? A yard, or a mountain, or a cave of your own? Anything? Anything at all? Tell me what to do with you because I just don't know and you're not helping, and I only want to make up for every time I ignored you because Amphy is such a needy time-leech but I had to because he has such an important job and it's not my decision but it's okay now and he's more self-sufficient now and I want to be closer with you but if you won't open up to me I can't help you so help me but you won't so I just can't take it!"

OUCH! An exclamation of pain, because I had unwittingly brought my two fists down upon Graveler's back in frustration. It hurt my hands, and her feelings, I knew.

"Graveler?"

…

"Do you hate me?"

"V'ller." She shook, slightly.

A faint, wet sensation touched my cheek. It slipped earthward, past my lips, and then my chin, and then coalesced into a visual reality: a teardrop, falling onto Graveler's backside.

I, whose only real affection in the world is towards my Pokémon, struck my own Pokémon out of anger- anger caused by my own inability to understand my own Pokémon.

You're pitiful, Jasmine.

"Jasmine," a knock came on the door.

"Oh, yeah?" I wiped the tears off. Connie was leaning inside the office doorway.

"There's a challenger here for you."

"Oh. Okay. Has he won twice?"

"No," she said, sheepishly. "It's late, almost closing. Me and the subords want to go home."

"Agh. Really?"

"It's not like we're paid overtime. Or at all."

"Noted," I said, picking myself up. My subordinates were technically paid volunteers, not even making minimum wage. Their allowance came out of my own salary, after all, and I couldn't afford much. A pity the League doesn't pay for them anymore. The threat Connie was insinuating was that she and the others could walk off at any time.

"Could you just 1v1 whiff it for me, for formality's sake? Then you can go."

"Alright."

She left, and I made to follow her. As I went out, my hand scraped through Graveler's hide, picking small clods of dirt out.

"Stay here, and… do whatever you like. Just don't make me feel guilty anymore." I don't expect Graveler to understand that, but I let it out anyways.

The challenger was a big boy, a little older than me, standing in front of the entrance hallway. I say 'big' in a very callous manner. To be fairer, let's say he occupied space. Ted, skinny as he is, struggled to slip by the human behemoth. The trainer wore hiking gear from head to toe; boots, khaki pants, sweater-vest, and woolen trunk shirt. A backpack big enough to fit me inside of it lay over one shoulder.

"Hello sir. Are you here for a gym challenge?"

"Oye? Oh, yeah, s'pose so. Are ye the Gym Leader?" He's got a very distinctive accent, definitely from the mountain counties. His cheeks and chin were hidden behind a massive, unkempt beard.

Eww. Another personal preference I forgot to mention to Morty. No facial hair, please.

"I am. My name is Jasmine Mikan."

"So ye are! Hahahaha! Righty, this is a fine place ye got here. I s'pose I just walked in ta take a look, but I wouldna mind a battle. Name's Bailey, by the by."

Bailey barreled his way to the front of the podium. "So, this how this works? I'm here, we go at it with the pokeballs n'such?"

Does he… know how to battle?

"I'm terribly sorry. My gym rules state you must fight two of my subordinates before you may challenge me."

"Oh is that so?" He nodded and winked towards Ted and Connie. "I didna think it was such a hassle awaitin me. Alright, rules be rules. Whose first?"

Connie sighed. I sat myself on the railing. Ted was up first.

"The first two matches will be 1v1, if you don't mind," I explained. His waving hand signaled that was not a problem. "Good. Ted?"

"Mag-Magne-" Ted mumbled something as he daintily chucked his pokeball out. The kid has social anxiety issues, I understand, but he really ought to save the stuttering routine for parties and such. Be more assertive, at least while you're battling, Ted!

"Magnemite? That's a Steel-Electric-type! And here I thought you were a Rock-type gym!" Ted gazed, a little dumbfounded.

"I apologize, you are misinformed on several counts," I pitched in. "No trainer is obligated to follow the type specialization in my gym; and in any case, our specialization happens to be the Steel-type. We switched from Rock-types many years ago."

"Oh wow, that's something. Not what I was expectin. Ah well. Gooooo, Golem!"

A Golem. That really would have been my second guess for his Pokémon, after Snorlax.

"Magnemite, um… Metal Sound."

"EXPLOSIOOOOONNNNN!" Bailey yelled.

…

…

Golem curled itself into a round, rocky beach ball, and then proceeded to erupt into small explosions. Chunks of rock and rubble burst out in every direction, pelting the shields, the ground, and Magnemite alike. Blasts like cannon fire bounded and rebounded off the walls.

"Aw that's not it! I told ye to EXPLOSION Golem, EXPLOSION! Alrighty, why not just try using Dig?" The challenger looked to Ted. "He's not the brightest chap, is he?"

Golem remained curled, but now began spinning. Wait, he wasn't fully curled, his arms hung out like spindles. They were still rotating, and now began clawing into the surface. The Pokémon dug itself a furrow, like a roto-tiller.

"Magnemite, he's digging himself underground. We have to get him, before he does… um... Thundershock? No, it's immune. Um… ah- Supersonic!" Ted's indecisiveness proved fatal. Golem did not burrow underground. Instead, he rocketed forward as if he were swimming through the clay, a one-ton earthen torpedo. Magnemite was hit once, from beneath, and that was all it took.

Okay, I have never seen an Explosion or a Dig do that. This guy is weird. Magnemite lay in pieces on the ground, obviously out of the fight.

"Magnemite is fainted, Challenger Bailey is the winner," I said lazily.

Connie shot me an even lazier look, silently telling me 'I'm not even gonna try'.

"Are you going to heal?" I asked Bailey.

"Nah, I'll just use one of me others."

Golem retreated in a flash.

"Okay, dude, let's send em out together," Connie said to Bailey.

"Go, Ladyba!"

"Go, Golem!"

Another Golem? You're kidding.

"Ladyba, Tackle."

"Mountain Slide!" Bailey yelled, eyes wide, face beaming.

Golem dug into the ground, picked up a chunk of earth five or six times its size, and then exploded. The Pokémon and boulder, together, blasted off into the air. They hit the ceiling, whereupon the boulder shattered and created what seemed to be a Rock Slide attack. I say seemed, because to me, it looked more like a Rock Torrential Downpour. Ladyba was no where to be seen in the aftermath.

"Ladyba! Where are you? Here, recall!" The auto-sensor in the pokeball located and extracted Connie's Pokémon. She turned towards me.

"Yes, yes, go enjoy your boyfriend or painting your nails or whatever else you like to do with your free time."

"College homework," she threw back at me. She and Ted departed at vastly different paces: the former at warp speed, the latter at super-speed Slowbro velocities. I was alone with the strange man.

"Excuse me, I need to fetch my Pokémon," I told him.

"Righty-o."

An ominous crunching sound could be heard out of the office. It caused me to pause, and a sick feeling welled in my stomach. I took a breath and stepped in.

"Graveler!"

When I said she could do whatever, I didn't mean she could tear up the place! Even with me shouting and trying to grab at her, she continued on her Rollout frenzy, like a pinball. As she picked up speed it became too dangerous for me and I ducked outside. Her pokeball was lost somewhere inside the debris-strewn room; I couldn't recall her.

"Graveler!" I pleaded. Really?! Really?! Why, what's gotten into her? I've not done anything, past and especially not present, to earn this egregious behavior. She's getting out of control!

 CRASH!

Graveler came to a halt after putting a large dent into the drywall. My desk was completely trashed, but I spotted her ball beneath its corpse. With a little courage, I hopped across the debris, snatched the pokeball, and spun around, prepared to imprison the rogue Pokémon.

I paused.

"Grrrv." Graveler lay there, on her side, too tired to continue her rampage.

"I'm not going to lock you up," I said, putting the pokeball away in my purse. Slowly, so she could see and understand. "Just please, listen. I'll give you one more chance. Help me in this battle. We don't even need to win. Just, show me what you can do; show me something, anything, just give me a reason to believe in you again."

"Graveler."

"Have this." I took a Super Potion and placed it in her hands, not even administering it. It took a minute of apprehension and distrust, but at length, she mashed the trigger. A healing mist sprayed across her body.

"Good. Will you come battle? See?" I held out my empty hands. "No pokeball. Just yourself, following me." Graveler, infinitely reluctantly, plodded her way past me.

"OOOOH! A Graveler!" the trainer exclaimed upon seeing my Pokémon. "They're my favorite, no wait- second favorite Pokémon!" I wonder what his first is (note the sarcasm). "Nah, now, I had an idea. Ye mind we had a six versus six battle?"

"Um, not at all." It would be long, but at least, if Graveler didn't bear out, it would have less overall impact on the match.

"I wen an healed mine up."

"Very well. Then, for the right to earn the Mineral Badge, I, Jasmine Mikan of the Olivine City Gym, accept your challenge."

"Graveler!" I reached out my hand, signaling for the match to start and for my Pokémon to enter the arena. She did so, at a lumbering pace.

"Golem!" Bailey called.

Figures. I'm interested in seeing what else these Golems are capable of. Aerial Earthquakes? Farting Fire Blasts? As for Graveler, I'm praying she's good enough to even hurt the thing. Please? Please oh god and Arceus, just let this work out between us!

Bailey was gleaming. "Golem, Destro-ball!"

I have no idea what attack that's supposed to be; it kind of resembles a Bulldoze. However, given the foe's Rock typing, a pre-emptive Earthquake will stop this short. Even with the evolution advantage, this idiot isn't using the most effective attack. Graveler can win, if only she…

"Earthquake!" I pleaded.

Graveler turned towards me, doing nothing. Her eyes were filled with a volatile concoction of hatred and bitterness.

"Graveler! Earthquake! Please! Watch out!" She must have sensed the incoming Bulldoze, but she did nothing. The enemy Golem bowled her over.

"Graveler, I'm begging! Just Earthquake! You'll win if you do!"

My Pokémon lifted herself up, but no more. The second Bulldoze/"Destro-ball" smashed into her side, sending her rolling across the arena.

"Graveler! Please! Rollout, Rock Throw, anything! Just, at least, fight for yourself!"

"Grrrv." The Golem raced its way around the far perimeter. It banked, coming in for another pass. Graveler began moving, her limbs slowly inching towards the ground. Her claw dug into the earth, ripping out a basketball-sized piece. Rock Throw. It won't do much, but, it's something.

Unless, she throws it with perfect aim, so that it acts as wedge between the rapidly approaching Golem and the ground. But Graveler was not a very good pitcher. Could she do it?

"Please," I whispered. My hands clenched into fists, so tightly my fingers broke skin.

Graveler hefted the rock, whipped around, and let it fly like a cannon shot.

CRACK!

An explosion of rubble exploded three feet to my right, putting a hole into the wall. I flinched. My side was hit with ricocheting pellets. Some hits hurt, sharply. The force field before me flickered erratically. A moment later, Golem leveled Graveler flat.

"RECALL!"

With my nerves strung tight as a suspension bridge, adrenaline pumping like a hydro-plant, I ripped out the pokeball and returned my Pokémon to its digital stasis.

What the fuck.

To hate me. To be bitter. Destroy my office. Disobey my orders. I can understand these actions.

But I never believed my own Pokémon would try to kill me.

"My sincere apologies. I must forfeit the match," I said, giving Bailey a formal, waist-deep bow, to hide my tears.

"What now? What? Yer quitting? I understand ye got issues with yer Pokémon, but I do na mind."

"Sorry, but it's impossible. It seems my shields are malfunctioning. It would be a violation of League safety protocols to continue."

"Oye." He seems a little puzzled, but eventually shrugged.

I looked down at my Pokéball. Graveler's pokeball. A place she would rather be, than to be out and serving me in battle. A desire so strong she had intentionally fired a Rock Throw at me, to hurt me, and had come so close to maiming or killing me.

My knees gave out.

Graveler, why? Am I truly this evil, in your eyes? Do you really want me dead? Eleven years you've stood by, and were these feelings building all this time? What exactly did I do? Or rather, failed to do? And is there anything possible I can do for you? Ever? At all?

"Oye."

Bailey approached me.

"Here's your badge," I said, daintily picking one from my satchel. He gently smacked the proffered badge away.

"I don't want that." His hillbilly accent disappeared. He kneeled down to greet me face to face.

"What do you want?" I muttered.

"Seems like you have some Pokémon there. Is that her?" he said, nodding to the pokeball.

"Graveler? Yes. How'd you know it's a girl?"

"Aha." A laugh, but muted. How considerate. He pulled out his six pokeballs and tossed them out, in one go, into the arena. His Pokémon appeared in rapid succession. I couldn't help but let out a chuckle of my own. Ridiculous.

"Golem!" "Golem!" "Golem!" "Golem!" "Golem!" "Golem!"

He's got six Golems. They stood in a row, obediently waiting for orders, curiously looking about.

"I'm a Breeder. I raise and sell Pokémon to trainers."

"I'm familiar with your line of work," I said.

"Good. Actually, I'm rather specialized, I only breed the Geodude family." He waved a hand towards his line-up. "You could say I'm the number one expert on the Pokémon. Know pretty much everything about them; their habits, moves, physiology, psychology, the works. It's my passion and my career to raise them for all sorts of purposes. I'm rather fond of the Pokeathlon, actually. May I?"

I didn't know what he planned, but he motioned for my pokeball. I mindlessly gave it to him. He released Graveler into the midst of the Golems. Graveler spotted the Golems and immediately curled into a defensive ball.

"Magnificent. Have you ever tried to evolve her?"

"What are you up to?" I asked. He's damn bold, thinking he can butt into my personal business! But… He's got such a smile as he's looking on Graveler, it felt disarming. It's the same face I glimpse in the mirror, sometimes, when I'm with Amphy.

"Nothing, nothing devious. Have you tried?" he asked again.

"Yes, many times. It never worked."

"Do you know how?"

"Not really. I thought leveling her would work."

"Ah, I see. No, no amount of training will work," he said.

"Then how?"

"Golem, they're special. Gravelers, they get accustomed to their environment. They get into a routine, and they lose sight of where they're going. They don't want to change, they're kind of stubborn. It's in the psychology. This "mental inertia", the profs like to call it, stops the signals that would trigger evolution."

"So how do you get them out of that?"

He smiled.

"Ye exposin them to a new environ," he said, his voice falling back into a mountain accent. I raised an eyebrow. He continued in a normal voice.

"You need to put them in a radically different environment. Physically, mentally, and socially. Get them out of their midlife rut. Expose them to new experiences, fight in new ways, fight new creatures. It really, really helps if they switch trainers, cause each trainer has totally different ways of training and loving and interacting with their Pokémon. This "character growth" removes the blocking signal and lets the Graveler evolve. That's why you get Graveler's rolling down mountain sides. Their clan is kicking them off the mountain so they can go find a new life, and that way they can evolve."

"Uhuh."

"You noticed my accent?" he asked.

I nodded.

"I figured out that if I adopt a different persona, treat em and train em differently, take them out of the city and into the mountains, I can get em to evolve by myself."

"Interesting."

"Ha! yeah. You might of noticed, I'm not very good as a trainer. I guess I spend all my time on raising these bubbly brutes, not much time gaining, you know, actual battle experience. Not really my thing. I let the customers do that after I let them off."

"You love your job?" I inquired.

"Absolutely! Since I was a little boy, loved the pebblers. Now, about your Graveler. She's magnificent."

"You think so?" I said, a little surprised.

"Aye. She's darn beautiful, for a Graveler. Tough, too. I'm thinking she might do super-well in contests, or in the Stamina courses over at the Pokeathlon Dome. I've got a proposition."

"What kind?" I said, suddenly a little suspicious.

"I see it in her eyes, here. She's not happy. She's been in that midlife rut for a long, long time. Lot longer than's good for a Graveler. Would you mind trading her?"

"What?!" I perked up, looking Bailey in the eye. He was serious.

"Trade her to me. You said you're a Steel type specialist, right? I came by a Piplup recently, don't know what to do with it. It evolves into Empoleon, a Steel-Water hybrid. Your Graveler for my Piplup."

"I don't know about that…" I said, my mind reeling from the suggestion. Give up Graveler? The thought had never crossed my mind! Even if she tried to hurt me, could I do that?

"You got that look, like you really love your Pokémon. But Graveler ain't happy, I can see that too. Maybe, I think I can help her get to where she belongs. I could say the same for my Piplup. I don't know a thing about the species; it's a big, wacky accident how I got it in my possession. So let's trade."

"Um…"

No!

Even if she hurts me, even if she hates me, I don't want to give up my Pokémon! It would be abandoning her! It's too cruel!

Eleven years I've had her! Since Dark Cave! To callously give away my companion that's been there for over half my life?

No way!...

No…

I looked upon Graveler, who was now being nudged and coddled between the six Golems. She was not curled anymore, but placidly taking the Golem's attention. They began happily rolling her between them. She seemed to enjoy it.

Is it her fault she's unhappy, or is it mine?

I turned to Bailey, who was patiently awaiting my answer.

"Can you give me time to think it over?"

"Sure, of course. I'll be in town till Friday. Here's my card."

Bailey left, taking his Pokémon with him. Graveler's mood noticeably deflated when they left. She and I both curled into a ball, holding ourselves tightly. I have no idea what's going through my Pokémon's head; but for me, mine was consumed by guilt for the past, and worry for the future. I'm doing everything in my power to improve my life, but my problems just keep coming and building up and building up and building up till they're out of control, like a Rollout. What am I supposed to do?

The next day was a Thursday, October 4^th to be precise, and I was feeling miserable. Not just because of the Graveler dilemma, but also because of a pair of habitual nuisances intruding upon my life. Of course it always seemed like these two miseries landed on top of each other each and every month. Was it any wonder the other Gym Leaders thought I was a little bitchy?

I booted my computer and the attendant plug-in camera. After a few minutes and a few navigations, I was staring at a program highlighted by 10 windows set in two rows of five. Six windows were in "stand-by" mode, the rest were blank. The clock read 12:25 P.M. Five more minutes.

DING! DING!

Two windows lit up. Pryce and Falkner's faces appeared in them.

"Hello Ms. Mikan," the elderly gentleman greeted me. Falkner ignored both of us.

"Mr. Pryce! Nice to see you," I returned the greeting. For him, even in my thrice-cursed mood, I could muster a measure of politeness.

"Oh!"

"Hmm?" He gave me an inquisitive look.

"You reminded me of something…"

"And that would be?"

"Um… I can't say. It's between me and Morty."

"I see. I've heard the two of you are on speaking terms again?"

DING! Speak of the devil.

"You could say that."

"Hey Jazz."

"Hmph!" My nether region was giving me cramps. It's been sore and hurting since the morning. Boys lucked out so badly when it comes to physiology.

"Jazz-"

"Chat later."

DING! DING!

Chuck, and then Clair.

"Where's Miss Tardy?" Clair demanded. "Jasmine?" she directed her inquiry to me.

"I don't know," I said defensively. Does she expect me to keep a Whitney radar on me?

Two minutes past 12:30, a final DING! sounded.

"Sorry guys!" Whitney appeared. The seven of us had gathered.

Every first Thursday of the month, the Johto League Gym Leaders convene via teleconference, to discuss business matters and catch up on gossip. Unfortunately for me, the crimson tide always seemed to strike at this exact time of the month as well, causing me to be at my worst during the only day I was obligated to be social.

"Finally." Clair, as our association's chair, went through the minutes and agenda. She hinted at, but refused to say, the biggest items on the schedule, until she made sure she had our attention.

"I'm stepping down as chair. I need time off and I can't shoulder all the extra work."

"Anything to do with Red?" I asked.

"Shut your mouth, Jasmine."

"Rude," I responded. Perhaps I wasn't the only woman dealing with menstrual issues today.

Ding! A little message box appeared under the video windows. The teleconference program was also equipped with chat service, so you could talk to other participants in private.

"Cat fight!" the message read. Who else would send it but Morty? I looked back up to his window to find him grinning.

"Do you want me to block you for another two years? Don't test my patience!" I sent to the miscreant.

"So! I need someone to take over as chair. Nominations?" Clair called out.

"Myself," Falkner ventured.

Eww, no. Falkner's a prick. I don't want him in charge. But if I speak up, I might just antagonize Clair even further. Besides, I can't handle the chairperson's workload with probation going on.

"Morty, nominate Pryce." Morty's eyes glanced downwards, reading my text. He nodded, then grinned.

"And what do I get in return?"

"Two years of Falkner not going on a power trip. Just do it!"

Morty nearly chuckled out loud. "Excuse me. I'd like to nominate Pryce," he said.

"Hmm?"

"Pryce?" Clair addressed the senior-most member of our squad. It was a little awkward, because we were all staring into the cameras, meaning it always felt like they were looking directly at me. "Are you okay with that?"

"Hmm. I think… yes, I will accept." The old man's wrinkles creased, either in a grin, or deep thought. I couldn't tell.

"Fine, anyone else? No one? Good. Use the chat box to cast your votes. Send them to me."

"I think Clair is the best fit for this job, but if not her, then we still need a strong leader." Falkner was doing a little campaigning.

"Vote for whoever you feel is best," Pryce said. We all clicked in.

"Pryce." I typed in my choice and sent it away. Hopefully this woman doesn't rig the vote. Clair looked down at her screen, eyes counting. She grimaced.

"Vote of 4 to 3, Pryce wins."

Yes! Take that, mister haughty bird-boy! I wonder who the other two were that even voted for you. Clair's a given, given her attitude, but the other? Chuck, maybe? Or Morty, just to screw with me.

"Right, Pryce, you'll be taking over after we finish this meeting."

"Thank you all for your vote of confidence. I hope this old noggin of mine can be of some use." Pryce gave a curt bow.

"Second on the agenda, Azalea. Bugsy flunked the summit and he's decided to go traveling with his girlfriend. So he's gone, the town needs a new Gym Leader. The League's sent us a new candidate we're supposed to rubberstamp."

A new file popped up on the screen. "Check him out."

Blaiz, a hip young man with spiked black hair, jeans and open-chested shirt with a high, upturned collar. His bio ran on for paragraphs, but I was only interested in one line.

"He's a Fire-type specialist," I said aloud.

"Yeah. He's one of the best in the region," Clair said offhandedly.

"Azalea is right by Ilex Forest. That gym's been a Bug-type since its founding! I don't think the residents will appreciate it if some Fire-snotter walks in and breaks tradition."

"Yeah, and that gym has also been underperforming since its inception." Clair was now actively staring at her screen, presumably at me.

"You can't throw away their tradition! Send this Blaiz fellow somewhere he'll be appreciated!"

"No, we go with the League's recommendation," Clair insisted, but not whole-heartedly. She was just saying this to be contrary.

"We're not tools of the League! Come on! The last thing an old fashioned village like Azalea needs is a steel mill for a gym!"

"Jasmine! Is this the thanks I get for lending you my gym?!" she let out angrily.

"Need I bring up Red again?" That silenced her. "I talked with Bugsy before he left. It was his expressed hope that a Bug-type user step in for him."

"Bugs are weak! Why would they want another decade with a weak-ass-"

"Falkner!" I yelled.

"We have to go with the League's choice. Blaiz is the guy. Let's not get caught up in sentimentality." Falkner wasn't about to back down.

"Or personal vendettas," I shot back.

"You implying something?"

"Only that you despised Bugsy and everything he did."

"I have a right to disagree with how a gym is run. Tradition is a crutch that-"

"I think she has a point," one person spoke up. We all jumped, surprised by the opinion. Chuck sat, knuckle in hand and chin resting atop them, musing to himself. "Hoenn's League's in turmoil cause they tried reforming too fast. Sootopolis' gym situation's been in non-stop turnover since Wallace left.

Lilycove tried adding a ninth gym and caused a civil war, metaphorically speakin. I think we're all so caught up in tryin to improve and reform and modernize, maybe we take it too far. Someone's gotta stick by tradition, push back and slow them down before they try somethin foolhardy. Mmmph!"

The teleconference grew very quiet. Everyone listens to Chuck, because he tends to be the swing vote in close decisions.

"All in favor of Blaiz as the next Gym Leader, raise your hands," Clair said. Falkner, all by his lonesome, raised his hand. He glared angrily at the screen.

"I thought you wouldn't go against the League's wishes, Clair."

"Fuck the League. They've got that runt doing their dirty work for them. All those in favor?" Clair didn't raise her hand, but she hardly needed to. Five hands pressed against the screens.

"5 to 1, Blaiz rejected. Pryce, your first job after this is to notify the League we want a new candidate. Preferably a Bug-user, thanks to Ms. Mikan," Clair threw my way. Pryce nodded.

"Oh, I thought of another thing."

"What is it, Mikan?" She does not sound happy at all.

"I think we should balance out the gender ratio. Have them pick a woman please."

"Ugh." Falkner showed his disgust. Typical male. Morty beamed, as if to say 'Alright, more women!'. Also typical male perversity. Clair, though, didn't seem opposed to this idea.

"Right, Pryce, tell them to make it a female too."

"Feminista."

I looked at the message from Falkner and briefly contemplated how best to fight this slur. On second pass, however, my morals got the best of me and I simply blocked him.

"Now, if no one else, *Mikan*, decides to interrupt, let's get to the boring stuff."

The meeting promised to drag on for another hour without anything terribly important being discussed.

"Pretty brave of you, what with probation. Are you not afraid you'll get kicked out?"

"You're awesome!"

The first text came from Morty, the second from Whitney. I thanked the latter and thought of a good reply to the former. Clair didn't notice, and was talking with Pryce about direct-deposit rules.

"I don't care if it costs me my job. I refuse to work in a league that has no moral integrity."

"Huh. Still, do you think you can keep your job? How's probation going?"

"I've got a problem."

"When do you not? Is this about the train ride?"

"No, it's a new problem." There was a momentary pause before his reply came.

"Fire away."

I collected myself, thinking about how to say what I wanted to say, and whether I even trusted Morty enough to share it. Do I?

I do. He won't make fun of me for this. He can't.

"Graveler tried to hurt me. She threw a rock at me during a match. The shields failed and I'm lucky to be calling from the office and not a hospital."

"That's bad. Have you punished her or anything?"

"No, that's not even the whole problem. I met a Geodude Breeder. He wants to take Graveler from me, trade her for another Pokémon."

"What is he offering?"

"It's irrelevant. What should I do? Should I give up and trade Graveler? I don't want to, but at this rate" My text drifted off into blankness, mirroring my thoughts. I began shifting around in my seat out of nervousness, causing a new round of aches in my vagina.

"Well, I think you're a good person and a great trainer. I think you got to just work harder to get Graveler to trust you. She'll come back. It's taken ten years(?) to get to this point, she's not going to trust you again overnight."

"Do you really think so?"

"Yeah."

I stared at Morty across the computer screen. He also looked up, giving me a reassuring smile.

"It'll be fine. You can do it!"

"I don't know."

"Talk to Whitney, she'll say the same thing."

"Of course she will." The way she's still fawning over Brawley, I wouldn't put any question of unrequited affection past her.

"I'm not sure what to do. I'm not sure anything I do will be enough."

How had it come to this? In eleven years, I think there would have been something to clue me in on Graveler's feelings. Something that would have told me, "You have to deal with this!" Nothing. Nothing I can remember, anyways. Am I that ignorant? Was it my fault? Had I purposefully blocked out Graveler's plight so that I wasn't burdened by the difficulty of dealing with her?

Can I spot what went wrong now, from memory?

I caught Geodude in June of 2001, inside Dark Cave during a class trip. That same day I also caught Onix. I don't remember who was caught first, but I know they were my 2^nd and 3^rd Pokémon. We came home, and I started playing with my Pokémon. It didn't take long for me to decide I wanted to be a professional trainer. Steven Stone was an international celebrity and my number one role model. He was a geologist and used fossil Pokémon, which were all part Rock-type. I thought I would become a Rock-type user as well; explore the world's ancient ruins, uncover the mysteries of the past and the secrets of the earth, and battle crime lords and evil corporations to save the treasures of old- a typical dream of a ten year old child.

Geodude was an integral part of that dream. She was my lead, the first out on the battlefield. It was up to her to force the opponent's hand early, uncover their battling style and lineup. Her role as scout helped me decide a strategy and find the foe's weakness.

She was never very good at this, though. I thought it was because the opponent always had a special tactic just for dealing with Geodude, something unrelated to their main strategy, and usually didn't require switching Pokémon too much.

Looking back at it now, though, it felt like Geodude just wasn't very good, period. She had potential, but was always being outplayed, always outsmarted, always outsped. It felt like she was slacking during practice, and didn't like working with the others, or didn't like learning her position. I argued, constantly, trying to get her to do what I wanted her to do.

Instead, she copied Onix. She tried to learn the same moves as Onix. She tried budging in and filling in for him when he wasn't performing at his best. She wanted to use offensive attacks, not defensive. She wanted to work on her power, not her technique. Why?

Onix was my sweeper. He blows up the enemy team after I neutralize their threats and devolve the battle down to a simple game of brute strength. Graveler… I think she might have been jealous. She wanted Onix's spot on my team. She wanted to be the sweeper. Was it because of the perceived prestige that position held? Or was it because she just enjoyed that role more?

Either way, she didn't cut it. She didn't have the qualities that made for a good sweeper; she simply wasn't stronger than Onix, nor faster, nor tougher, nor have as diverse a movepool. As for the prestige of being my team leader, Onix didn't earn that by being my sweeper. He earned it through his discipline, patience, and intelligence. He's been invaluable in keeping the others focused and striving to improve themselves. Geodude was rash, loud, bossy, and indecisive. Those qualities only got worse when she evolved into Graveler. Soon enough, it was taking more time to force her to train than she actually spent training. She was becoming more and more difficult, while Onix was only getting stronger and more mature. I struggled, and failed, to evolve Graveler, but Dad helped me easily evolve Onix into Steelix.

Then that incident happened. I decided to switch from Rock to Steel-type. I threw away everything that was formerly me and became a new person. I took full possession of the Gym Leader title and vowed to never look back, never again be so weak. And Graveler? She was weak. Weak on the battlefield, and weak in spirit. She didn't fit in. Not with my new Steel-centric strategy, and certainly not with my new attitude. Now, it seems kind of obvious, but I was oblivious then: that was when Graveler started disobeying me in battle.

It's my fault.

It's because I treated her like the weak Pokémon she was, and not the strong Pokémon I knew she could become.

Back then, I knew it was still possible to reconcile, but didn't want to. There were so many little issues, like her mess-making, like my inability to fit her into my stratagems, like the way the rest of the team picked on her slow-wittedness. It was easier for me to ignore her than try to work with her. There was a period of years when I never talked with her, when I barely even saw her. I loaned her to friends, or kept her in the PC. Father would take care of feeding her because she wouldn't eat anything I gave her.

"You seem upset. Is anything the matter?" Another message, this one was from the pale-haired grandpa. In the window, Pryce continued debating with Chuck and Morty over battle philosophy, specifically whether challengers could force a double battle match. The fact he was texting me was well disguised. Why would he do that? Probably to keep attention away from me.

"I'm having trouble." I went on to explain the situation to him in much more detail than what I gave to Morty. Despite his attempts to conceal it, I could spot the glances and slight nods each time I sent him a paragraph.

"What do you think I should I do?" I ended.

Pryce leaned back, closing his eyes. He began ambling on in support of Chuck's position, at which point Falkner and Whitney barged in and Morty lost interest.

"Has anyone else given you advice?" he asked.

"Yes, Morty." Pryce's ability to multi-task was seriously impressive. He's still moderating the debate while engaging me.

"What did he tell you?"

"He thinks I should tough it out. He believes in me."

"Typical boy."

"Who are you talking to?" Morty messaged. I guess I'm not as good as Pryce at hiding my distractions.

"You'll find young men say whatever they think will appease girls most." - Pryce.

"Erika." - Me to Morty.

"Are you saying I should do the opposite and give Graveler up?" - Me to Pryce.

"Hey worm, got a sec?" - Clair.

"Really? You look bummed. Still worried about Graveler?" - Morty.

"One sec." - Me to Clair.

"Not bummed (blatant lies), just uncomfortable. Pelvis hurts." - Me to Morty.

"I need to talk to you." - Clair.

"That time of month?" - Morty.

"Yes. TMI for you, don't worry about it." - Me to Morty.

"In a minute." - Me to Clair.

Argh! Too many conversations going on at once!

"I'm saying no such thing. I think you need to look inside yourself and figure out what you should do. Figure out what's best for you AND your Pokémon. It comes down to this, do you feel that you can make amends, and will Graveler be able to accept you? The answer to those two questions is key, and they can only be found within you."

Morty and Clair sent several more chats my way, but they weren't going to be getting replies. I stared, a little shocked, at Pryce's message. On screen, the corner of his mouth perked, a smile, unnoticed by everyone else.

"I believe in you."

Look inside myself to figure out if I believed I could reconnect with Graveler, and if she could accept me again. It was basically up to me, and my decision alone that would determine the outcome. Searching for someone to offload the weight of decision-making was the coward's way out. That was Pryce's message. He's right. He's absolutely right.

Both Morty and Pryce sent the exact same message- "I believe in you." The difference is that Morty was just saying what he thought would comfort me. Pryce actually meant it; he had faith in my decision-making ability.

"Thank you." I typed back to my mentor.

I took a moment to contemplate and internalize his advice. I didn't have the answer just yet, but I felt like I would soon. In the meantime-

"What's Erika doing?" Morty asked.

"I need to see you, soon. Saturday?" I replied.

"Um, I'm kind of busy. How about Sunday?"

"Good enough. The Mana Range Park, by the Miltank ranches on Route 39?"

"Sure. What time?"

"12. Bring a bag lunch."

"12? Hmm. Okay. Gotta wake up early."

"Too bad." I  closed his chat window.

"Jasmine!" It wasn't a text. Clair had gotten fed up and called for me out loud. "I need to speak with you. Get into a private window."

"How?" I had never bothered to master the teleconference program.

"Right click my screen and select 'private room'."

"Um- okay, found it." The other six windows minimized and Clair filled the screen. "What's this about? Are you still mad at me?"

"Irritated at your impudent tone, yes, but that has nothing to do with this."

Okay. From what I could tell, Clair was still in her home, not the gym like the others. Her hair was disheveled, neither showered nor brushed. What's more, it's hard to tell because her head filled up most of the window, but she didn't seem to be in her Dragon Tamer outfit. She had really made good on her declaration to close the gym. For how long?

"Playing hooky I see. What do you want with me?"

"Hmph! Know your place!" She burst into an exasperated sigh. "As the chair (for all of ten more minutes), I am obligated to check up on your progress towards completing probation."

"Oh."

"Send me a copy of your status sheet via e-mail, and I'll take care of the League end."

"Okay."

"So, how is that going?"

"Terrible." I remember now, Clair was the one who sent me to K-Block in the first place. Grr. "The coursework is easy, but there's a lot of it. I should be passing that. My win ratio is, like, 38% right now. I know that's really bad, but it's been climbing the past two weeks."

"Good, good. Don't slack. League's a bitch on rules."

"Are you okay?" I ventured. Her appearance lent itself to the theory that she was being lazy, but her hazy demeanor and drifting eyes spoke of a more biological woe.

"Hangover," she replied. "You don't look too good yourself."

"PMS," I explained. "Give yourself a pat for me." We both symbolically gave each other a pat on the back.

"AGH! Brain cramps!" She clutched her head suddenly.

"You got pretty drunk at the Skyrim."

"Nonstop since. Ugh."

"Was it that hard a loss? It was Red, the world champion, after all. Not like it was an upset."

"Worms like you wouldn't understand. I was 3 victories away. THREE!" She shouted this final word at the top of her lungs.

"Three? From what?"

"From the all-time Gym Leader consecutive-win-streak world record! So damn close! If that brat had waited just one hour, I could've made it! Now, shambles. I've been guarding that streak for over two years. YEARS!"

"You haven't lost a match in two years?"

"Gym matches, no, not a single one; But then Mr. Virginballs had to come in and ruin everything! Gah, I'm still so pissed. I'm thinking of retiring."

"Well, my advice is to get sober before making a decision on that."

"Heh. Well, just get those files in for me."

 Clair exited from the room, brining me back to the main window.

"I'm counting on all of your support. If I recall, there is a push to unite the regional Gym Leader associations into a single workers union; I would like all of you to reflect upon your positions concerning that so that we can reach a consensus next meeting." Pryce finished his speech. "Clair, would you care to offer any words as the outgoing chair?"

"Nope. I'll get you the files and paperwork after this."

"Well then, everyone, have a good day."

"See you Sunday," Morty messaged, and then logged off.

I reflected a minute on what Clair was going through, and why she was in the position she was in. It was a completely different situation, but I felt like there was a lesson in there for me. All considering, to get this pissed off over something so minor as a meaningless world record, spoke to how good her life was besides. To care so much, to threaten to retire over this little blip of a loss, she'd have to be harboring the biggest, most prideful ego I'd ever…

!!!

A spark of imagination came upon me, like a minor epiphany.

"I understand now. Thank you for everything." I sent my final message to Pryce. He did not message me back, but leaned forward towards his computer, and placed his index finger on the screen. His stare told me everything.

'It's up to you now, kiddo.'

That's it. I know what I have to do now. More importantly, I know why I have to do it.

Everyone said goodbye, and the teleconference ended. I was left staring at the office's ancient PC, nothing running on the screen. No one else was in the office, not even a Pokémon. Now I know what they mean by saying 'The silence hung heavy'. I slowly got out the breeder's business card from my purse and reached for the phone.

"Mr. Bailey? I've made a decision."

"Graveler, come. We're going on a walk."

She had been left at the gym's outdoor practice field all day. Long, meandering furrows, like doodles, indicated what she had been up to. I gripped her pokeball in one hand, knuckles white, ready in case she decided to disobey me. After some moments, it became apparent she was disobedient, but passively so. She had dug herself into a hole and remained still, with only her backside showing.

I marched up to her. Tapped on her. Kicked her. No response.

"Come out. You're leaving."

I want to cry. I mustn't. Not yet. Instead, I choke my tears down, and give orders in a voice I hate using. Because I have to.

"Now!"

Graveler stirred, rolled around in place, and stared at me.

"It's time," I said, voice softening.

I turned and began walking, step-by-step. Soon enough, the heavy beat of foot steps trailed behind me. At a time like this, I imagine the soundtrack of my life, heretofore a sad, lonely tune, die out. All that was left was the wind, and the crunching of sand and grass to mark the passage of a trainer and her Pokémon.

The evening wore on. The sun disappeared behind a bank of clouds, and the first chill touches of autumn reached me. I clutched the shawl of my dress tighter, wishing the sleeves were longer. It was two miles to our destination; at our pace, it would be almost an hour to cover that. I was not tempted to hurry, though. We had time, if not much.

At a crosswalk, waiting for the traffic signal, I stopped. Graveler caught up, coming to a halt beside me. A sidelong glance told me nothing about my Pokémon's mood. Then again, I never was any good at judging her mood or picking out what was on her mind in the first place. Not even eleven years ago…

Dark Cave

Friday, June 8^th, 2001

"It's so dark! Dark dark dark!"

"I don't like it!"

"I can't see!"

"Waaaaaahhhh!"

The pitiful wails of soon-to-be middle-schoolers echoed through the cavern. Our lantern had inopportunely given out. Mrs. Lylat bumbled about, searching for Wailey. The little boy had been entrusted with the supply bag, because he could usually be counted on to keep a Trapinch-grip on anything he got his hands on. That, however, did not mean the boy himself would not get lost. Ergo, we had lost a student and our one remaining source of light.

"Wailey? Wailey, are you here?" The teacher nearly ran me over in her search for the child. "My gosh, child, where are you?"

"I think he got scared and stayed at the entrance," I said. Not that I knew for certain the poor kid had chickened out; only that I had last seen him by the entrance sign crouching over. Maybe I could have been more generous and said the boy was sidetracked by something curious. That would have preserved his ego but also gotten him in trouble. However, I was ten years old, and those kinds of dilemmas did not cross my mind back then.

"Jasmine? Are you sure? Okay, everyone, please sit and stay right here! I don't want anyone to run off! Jasmine, you're in charge." The awkward, stumbling entity of our teacher could be heard slowly retreating from us. As soon as I ascertained she was around the corner, I reached into my knapsack and pulled out a pokeball.

"Voltorb!"

A flash of light briefly illuminated the creature.

"Woah!"

"What was that?!"

"Flash!"

Voltorb's weak Flash lit up the group. Empty darkness stretched out in three directions. Behind us rose the only visible wall and passage back to the outside. It was our only anchor to the real world, seemingly.

"Wow! A Pokémon!"

"Jasmine has a Pokémon!"

"Light! Light! Light!"

"I can see!"

"A Voltorb!"

The class was simultaneously excited to be able to see again, and at the fact that I had a Pokémon. As far as I knew, the only other classmate to have their own Pokémon was hunkered down at the entrance. I began setting off into depths.

"Wait, Jasmine! Jasmine! Jasmine!"

"Where are you going?!"

"Stay here! Mrs. Lylat told us to stay here!"

I turned around to face them. They were all staring at me with forlorn looks, as if I was abandoning them. Cowards, the lot of them.

"There are Pokémon in this cave. I want to see them."

"But you have to stay here!"

"Mrs. Lylat said so!"

"You just want Voltorb's light," I countered. There was a round of sheepish nodding.

"Well I don't care, I'm going deeper. Anyone want to join me?" Nervous fidgeting. Several got up, then sat back down. At last a girl and a boy, Juliet and Billy, got up and followed me.

We wove our way between stalagmites and rock shelves, always traveling lower and lower. Shadows and flickers at the far edge of our field of vision confirmed my prediction. We were surrounded by Pokémon. Billy clung tightly to Juliet, who hung onto the edge of my skirt.

"There!"

"There!"

The pair of them pointed in different directions. I caught the glowing glint of eyes staring at us.

"They're gonna get us!" My two cohorts hugged each other tight.

"Grow up. I've got Voltorb, we'll be safe."

More than safe, actually. I hefted my knapsack, plastic objects jingling within. This excursion had been deliberately planned by myself for this very purpose. I reached in and got ahold of one empty pokeball. All around us, flittering and rolling and creeping, Pokémon hid just beyond the edge of Voltorb's Flash.

"See? There! There! It's a Pokémon! AHHHH!" Juliet screamed.

I reflexively whipped around and chucked my pokeball. One adventurous Geodude had strayed into the light. The ball thunked against its head, consuming it in energy.

"There!"

"There!"

"There!"

I couldn't keep track of it all. I continually tossed the devices till I was down to one. However, after Juliet's first scream, the monsters became startled and dashed away. All my subsequent pitches missed. We were left alone, the nearest pair of glowing eyes being many yards away.

"I think you caught this one," Billy said. He bent over to pick it up. With a dashing leap I snatched it from his hands to ensure he wouldn't mess it up. Time to take a look at my new Pokémon!

"Go!" I shouted, dramatically tossing the ball in a high arc.

"Grbrbrbr."

"It's a Geodude."

…

It was that simple. You snuck up on us with all of your buddies and were the unlucky one who got noticed first. The first thing you did when I released you was to try to run away again. I stopped that, though, by recalling you back to the pokeball. You tried again, and again, and all weekend. It wasn't until we got back home to Olivine that you understood your life had changed.

It was such a trivial, accidental thing, me catching you. That's why I couldn't remember who came first that day. Compared to Onix, your capture was… not noteworthy. It's difficult now, to recall the details. The sensory information, what it felt like, the emotions, are completely lost to me. What came a few minutes later was- well, more memorable.

"Grrrrrrb!"

"GRAAAARGHHHH!!!!!"

"Geodude, use tackle!"

My brand new Pokémon hid behind a stalagmite, scared before the towering behemoth. Voltorb went in her stead, pitting its pathetic weight against the rock snake's bulk. I was confident in my Pokémon, though. Its little form might not be heavy, but force is mass times velocity (a newly learned fact in science class) and Voltorb is a very speedy creature.

Billy and Juliet flailed about like the comic-relief from anime, before crashing into each other. I stood calmly by, waiting my chance. Voltorb was bulleting the Onix over and over, but it wasn't doing enough damage. A foolhardy plan was taking shape in my head.

"Geodude? Where are you?  Aha!" I picked up the creature by the arms and began ascending the stalagmite. The cavernous space opened before me. The Onix was thrashing about, unable to intercept Voltorb, who was darting all around it. I waited until the snake was right beneath me.

"Geodude, Tackle!"

I jumped. I vaulted into the air, Pokémon in arm, and gravity took over. Onix's forehead was directly beneath me. I brought Geodude round, with all my ten-year-old girly strength, and smacked the rock ball into the Onix like a mace. The Onix's forefront dropped to the floor, dazed. I ended up in front of the behemoth, staring it eye-to-eye.

"What's it gonna be, punk? You wanna be my Pokémon?" I asked it straight to its face. It never occurred to my ten-year-old self this Pokémon could crack my spine in half with an accidental flip of its tail. Yet, it must have seen something in my eyes, or in the way I dared to stare it down, but it didn't budge. There was a long, silent pause between us. After what seemed like an hour, it broke its gaze, looking away.

"Right, you flinched. I'm your master now."

I reached out and tapped its nose with my last pokeball. The device didn't even wiggle. A light blipped, and my third Pokémon was caught. I jumped in joy, then noticed the delirious couple cowering in the corner. It seemed like a good idea to reintroduce them to my 28-foot cave leviathan.

"ROOOOOOAAAARRRR!"

"WAAAAAHHHHHH!" They went screaming off in the general direction of the class. By the time I caught up, riding atop Onix, Mrs. Lylat and Wailey had returned. The stuttering teacher was too overcome with astonishment to scold me for running off. Lost in the excitement and wonder of the situation was Geodude. I remembered her only long enough to recall her to her pokeball.

You helped me catch Onix. I never thanked you for that. I'm not sure you would even want to be thanked for that. That day, I was so proud of myself. I had caught two Pokémon, on my own! I didn't even get in trouble for going off the path and leaving the class. Everyone loved me. I was… arrogant. Prideful. Even though I was so ecstatic  over catching two Pokémon, I only paid attention to one. You were left out.

As we made our way through the evening streets, memories overcame me. What had formerly been murky and dim suddenly came alive. Sounds, smells, sights, feelings flickered across my sensory inputs, as real as the day they happened-

…

"Graveler, stop! No! No!  NO! Ahhh!" She had been Rollout-ing right next to the house, through a track of mud. Said mud was now splattered across the side of the house.

"Wait here!" I fetched the hose, and then had Graveler spin in place while I pelted her with water. The make-shift water sprinkler quickly cleaned up the mess, but left my Pokémon an unhappy sogging mess.

…

Geodude stared down the Raticate. "Rock Slide!"

"Geo!" She took the Quick Attack with ease and climbed up the nearby slope. A rain of earth crashed down, burying Raticate under. The match was finished.

"Hurray! You wo- w- wah?!?!" Geodude was surrounded by a soft glow. It grew brighter, intense, then unbearable. Her body began undulating and morphing. Inside her, potentiating cells, reservoirs of mass and energy, received a once-in-a-lifetime signal and broke loose. The scintillating forces burst across Geodude's body, expanding, strengthening, taking shape until a new being stood in its place.

"GRAV! GRAVELER!"

"Well that's terrific." The gentleman owner of the Raticate applauded. "Your Pokémon evolved!"

It was my first time witnessing an evolution in person. My arms and legs tingled with goose bumps. I ran over to greet my "new" Pokémon.

…

She was going to kill herself at this rate. I contemplated her pokeball in the palm of my hand. Ever since last month, when I taught her that move, it was the same routine every time I released her in the vicinity of Onix. Rollout, followed by Self-Destruct, aimed at my team leader. It wasn't seriously hurting Onix, but it was fainting Graveler. The long term effects of repeated Self-Destructs were worrisome. It weakened her shelling, little by little, without giving the membrane time to heal. That would destroy her hide and open it up to serious infection. I bit my lip.

…

"Come here! We'll try you too!"

Graveler refused. I held the aluminum foil in hand, face stern and serious. Steelix waited behind me.

"If we can make Onix a Steel-type using a Metal Coat, we can do the same for you!"

I inched forward, and then pounced. My reward for effort spent wrestling the Rock-Ground-type for ten minutes, aluminum foil spewing out everywhere but the Pokémon's hide and exhausting myself in the process: one Rock-Ground-type Pokémon.

…

"I hate your filth! I get it, you lost, you blew our lead! That's okay, we all have bad days; BUT, do you seriously have to drag your loss in with you?! Damn it, there's soil, EVERYWHERE!"

…

"Dad, could you take care of Graveler next week? I'm busy and, well…"

"Sorry. There's a project review coming up. I don't think I can even take care of Magcargo."

"Um, shoot. I don't know what to do, then. Um…"

"Stick her in the PC. You can use the nutrient force-feed program if you really have to."

"I guess."

…

"Graveler, can I count on you?" The summit was in two weeks. I was anxious. Last year had been tough to get through; Steelix had to carry me the whole way through qualification tests. The exams had only gotten tougher. Magcargo was on loan to Dad, Choir to Mother, and the rest of my Pokémon weren't cut out for fighting. That left my prime three, but that didn't feel like it was going to cut it. I needed a backup.

"Grav." She's being stubborn. Oafish. I had anticipated this a week ago, and tried to incorporate her into the training regime. When she couldn't even make headway against Magneton, however, she stopped trying and slacked off. Efforts to get her to use Ground attacks were futile. We tried having a fun, relaxed game of kickball to loosen us up. When it came to her turn, she curled up and tried using herself as the ball (in which case, she won, because the others didn't want to be road kill).

"I don't understand you. Are you going to behave, or not?"

No answer.

"I'll interpret that as a 'yes', and hope for the best, then. Come on, let's clean you up."

…

It's impossible, being right beside someone, a Pokémon, for over a decade- it's impossible to not create memories with them. True, they've not all been good memories. It wasn't always like this, however. There have been good times as well. That time when we faced Cool Trainer Vito, you were clutch, delivering the final, improbable blow. People still bring that victory up on TV every so often.

The Pokecenter came into sight. It stood in a crowded corner of town, wedged between two office buildings. The parking lot lamps lit up as we crossed. Not many people were about at this hour. The few who did took notice, and stared, but no one bothered me. I could make out the large form of Bailey inside the glass walls. He was addressing someone, with two Golems in tow, and laughing. How lucky of him, to be able to laugh at a time like this.

The doors slid open. Graveler entered first, at the same pace, with the same demeanor, as she had carried the whole walk.

"Mr. Bailey. I'm here."

"Ah! So you have come!"

He waved goodbye to his associate and we proceeded to the second floor. There was a small space prepared.

"Here she is." He held out a net ball.

Not out of curiosity, but simply to fill time, I asked, "How'd you come to own her?"

"It's the weirdest thing. Geodude and family are my specialty, but I sometimes branch out to other rock types. Well, there was this one Sudowoodo who had been abandoned by its trainer, keeping lodge in a ravine north of Veilstone. I got a friend and hiked on out there. Turns out, the thing had adopted a Piplup from the wild! Guess it got lonely. Anyways, friend took the Piplup, me the Sudowoodo. Hey, but after awhile, my friend comes and says "I want the Sudowoodo, if you please." And I go, "Why?" And he responds, "I live in a desert. No water." I respond, "Yeah, maybe you shoulda thought of that when you took the bugger in." "Guess the heat's getting to me," he finishes. So I agree and we swap Pokemon. Figures though. I don't know anything about Water-types, the poor tyke has been in a fuzz since then."

"Meh."

I heard less than half of what he was relating.

"You seem droopy."

"I am."

"What for?" he asked, suddenly concerned.

"I don't like this."

"Why not? Everyone wins, right? You'll be getting a nice Steel-type. Steel-Water, eventually, in point-o-fact. Don't a team like yours have use for a Water-type? It'd be super helpful against your weaknesses."

"Tell me," I said, snapping. "Are Pokémon just tools to you?"

"N-n-no…" He physically took a step back under the force of my glare. "I just thought you might be… recalcitrant. Maybe need a little nudgin."

"I need no such thing. This decision has nothing to do with personal gain or my career advancement. Don't try to rationalize it."

"Okay. Sorry, my apologies. I was wrong." He backed off.

"Can you give me a little space?" I asked. He nodded, and plodded over to the trading machine. I turned to Graveler.

She stood in place, watching the Golems interacting with each other.

"Do you want to join them?"

She turned to me, to the Golems, to me again, and then started to set off in their direction.

"Hold up."

I grabbed Graveler by the ridges.

"Gravel." She growled.

I turned her around, nudged her to sit down. I knelt to my knees, coming face to face with her.

Here we are.

Second thoughts?

Eleven years. My second Pokémon. My faithful, and not-so-faithful, companion. Yet, a companion nonetheless. It could be a long, long time before I see her. It could be the last time. We each could die without ever crossing paths or hearing from each other again.

It hurts. So, so, so badly. It feels like throwing away a toy from one's childhood. Not the brightest, shiniest toy. But, one that has gained a special place in one's heart by its very familiarity and age.

"I- I-" I tried to start, several times, but my heaving chest cut me short. It was a minute before I could calm down enough to speak. Graveler regarded me with the same blank look of wariness I had grown accustomed to. 'Accustomed to'- that very phrase could sum up why it had come to this.

"You're going away. You're going to join Bailey and his Golems. I don't know what you'll do. Train for Contests or something. He's an expert in your species. He knows what to do to make you happy. You seemed to get along with them. I hope- hope-"

My chest is heaving, making it difficult to organize my thoughts. Spit it out, swallow those tears.

"I hope- you'll be happy. I'm betting on him. I'm counting on you to find to happiness with him. Do you understand? Do you want this?"

A part of me wanted her, this one time, to be stubborn, to shake her head 'no!', to cling to me, to choose me. She didn't. She nodded, readily. Her face, her expression, her aura, her soft, rumbling cries, told me this was what she wanted.

I gave her a weak smile. Then I hugged her.

"This is it, then. You'll be good. And, I just… please… please… When you think of me, please don't hate me. I'm… I'm…."

Oh Arceus, the waterworks are starting. It was because I was losing her, but it was also because I was reaffirming my belief in what had transpired this last decade and what I was doing here; and the weight of a planet's worth of guilt bearing down on my heart was crushing me.

"I'm- sorry. Sorry it came to this. Sorry for how I treated you. Sorry that you and I never got along. Sorry… for catching you. I hope, that, when you look back, that you're happy, and successful, and strong, and that this guy and his family are the world for you. I hope that, when you think of me and all the terrible times I've caused you, you also remember that I brought you here too. It's not enough to make up for everything. I know. But it's the best I can do."

A single clawed, grainy hand reached up and touched my cheek.

"Graveler."

I held her hand in my own, for a lingering moment.

"Okay. This is goodbye."

The trading ceremony was quick and straightforward. Bailey placed his net ball in one slot. Graveler went into her pokeball, and that was placed in the other slot. The machine chimed. Trainer data was exchanged, the balls swapping code and the registration confirmation being sent off to the central servers in Goldenrod. A final chime, and the process finished. Graveler was no longer mine. Instead, I had a stranger, a Piplup I've not even laid eyes on before. God, please let me be a better trainer to her than I was to Graveler. Please. No more heartbreaks. I've had enough of them for a lifetime.

"Aye! Would ye like me to call ye, from time to time? Updates and what not?"

"Sure." I nodded.

"Well, you take care of the tyke."

"You," I said to him, "PROMISE to make her happy."

Bailey put a hand over his heart. "I promise. With me 'ole soul."

"Thank you. Your accent is back, by the way."

"I aim fer it. I'll have Graveler evolved no time. She'll be stronger'n ever."

"Good. Farewell, Mr. Bailey."

I took the net ball and began my slow march out of the pokecenter.

The truth is, I was still torn. Every inch was a battle, a struggle to not turn around and say, 'HALT! I WANT HER BACK!'. It wasn't too late. Yet, deep, deep down, I knew I shouldn't. That little part of me that said 'let her go!' was so weak. A pathetic little feeling. But it was on a fulcrum, and had leverage over my soul and spirit right now, and was not giving in.

Because…

What I realized, talking to Clair, is that I am a proud woman.

Pride, as in the sin, as in the arrogance and the self-serving ego that proceeds the downfall. I wasn't keeping Graveler because I liked her. I kept her, to this very point, because I was too proud to admit I had wronged her. I was too proud to admit I couldn't help her. I was too ashamed of myself for giving up on her. As a trainer, as a person dedicated to developing a Pokémon's strength and guiding them in battle, this was a monumental failure.

But…

As a trainer- as an owner, and a mentor, and a parent, I would be as evil, cruel, and heartless as the terrorist teams if I did not do what was best for her. Even if that meant separating myself from her, forever.

That burden was shaking me apart.

Real pain.

The anguish of being wrong. The bitter loss resulting from it. I had not experienced it like this before. The effect was nearly as bad… very nearly as bad… as that one lone night in the thunderstorm.

"There." I was halfway across the parking lot, and I shouldn't have, but I looked back over my shoulder. Graveler was out of her pokeball, thudding against the Golems, getting to know them, while Bailey hunched over them, smiling and occasionally laughing.

"Graveler… I…" I whispered into the open night air. A chill wind blew over me, causing me to shiver.

'Stop it. It's over. Go home,' I silently told myself. The night was very dark, and very cold. Nonetheless, I took my time, slowly making my way back to my apartment.

…

                    Sometimes, the only way to say "I love you"-

-is to say "Goodbye".

Chapter Text

"That's fucking adorable," he said, striding up the hill.

The Piplup had taken to following Skarmory everywhere, pestering him nonstop with tweets and peckings and Bubble attacks. Skarmory's temper had been boiling continuously since yesterday and into this morning. At last he became fed up, snatched the baby Water-type in his beak, and forced it under his belly, roosting on it like a father Empoleon would. This kept the little bird happy and gave the big bird peace. Now, the pair were resting easy and watching me peruse a textbook.

Morty alighted at our picnic space. He chuckled, bent over and gave the little tyke a knuckle on the head. Skarmory angrily snapped at his digits, forcing Morty to withdraw.

"What, is he playing the daddy now?"

"Seems that way."

"Fascinating. How is he?"

"She. Playful. Adventurous. Curious. Likes to get into places, especially ones she shouldn't be getting into."

"Sounds like a handful."

"A little. Honestly, Skarmory has taken the brunt of it. That's the result," I nodded over to the roosting pair.

"Try training her yet?"

"No, no time, really," I said.

"So…" he began, not a little put off by my succinct answers. He had caught me in the middle of reading and I didn't want to lose my place, so I ignored him a bit longer. There was one more paragraph detailing League regulations concerning gym power generators. While I read, he cycled his focus from me, to my two Pokémon, to the wonderful view.

Mana Range Park was situated directly on the slopes of Route 39. The route was nestled within a broad, rolling valley of mostly grassland. The northern reaches were occupied by large Miltank ranches; this was the prime beef and milk production center for our nation. Overlooking the ranches was Mana Range Park, mainly a collection of grassy hills marked by trails and the occasional gazebo. The sky was cloudless, but windy, cause for long-sleeved attire.

I had ridden Steelix in, bringing along lunches, a blanket, and reading material. This was all set out and well used by the time Morty (predictably) arrived late.

"Done." I slammed the textbook shut. "How've you been?" I asked Morty.

"Tired, but pretty good. Yourself?"

"Tired, and awful."

"Unload on me," he offered. I rolled over, looking at him in the eyes from beneath.

"I'm too tired to get up. You sit down." He obeyed. "It's been awful. I took challengers yesterday. Shut out 7 out of 15, but it took some work. Skarmory is starting to recognize basic orders. The bird is definitely Impish; he hates being bothered. The Piplup spent all day tormenting him whenever it got a chance. I've taken to calling her Tyko. Had to stop a couple matches to go chase her. She's already turning into a nuisance. Dratted thing-"

"Hey, stop that." Morty butted in. I know he's referring to my sour attitude.

 "I can't help it."

"I know. I know you're upset about losing Graveler. I still think you should have tried to make it work, but it was your decision. I'm okay with that. But don't let it poison your relationship with Piplup. Tyko, I mean."

"Haaa."

He's right, as usual, but still, it's not easy. I don't want to face reality right now. I've had enough of hard emotions this past month.

"It's just emotions, it'll pass. I'm sure Tyko and I will get along fine," I said, vacillating between mere hope and inevitable expectation.

"You hope. Don't be passive about it. Make her your friend. Put in the effort."

"Watch," I told him. I rolled onto my belly, and then whistled and clapped for Tyko to waddle over. She burrowed herself deeper underneath Skarmory's breast and peppered me with tweets.

"Great, so she hates you already." Morty sighed.

"Not really. She's just attached to Skarm-Skarm. See." I elbowed my way over and held out a hand. Skarmory allowed me to close the gap, unlike Morty. The Piplup darted a beak out, nipping at my empty palm. "Sorry, no snacks here."

Morty reached into his backpack and came out with a piece of candy. He unwrapped it and began to reach out to Tyko. Skarmory intervened, pecking him sharply in the forearm and snatching the candy away. The "daddy" Pokémon then gingerly crunched the candy down and fed it to an ecstatic Tyko.

"Tyko, where'd that come from?"

I explained how Bailey had kept referring to the baby as a tyke, and that the Pokémon responded as much to that as it did to its species name.

"So, you were 7 on 15 yesterday. How're you overall?"

"Still hovering around 39%.," I answered.

"That's better than before, right?"

"Yeah. But I still have a ways to go. What is your rating?" I asked.

"I don't keep close track," he replied. "Maybe 30%? There's no real incentive to go all out every day. To be fair, I'm not on probation. 50% on a per trainer basis is damn high." I agreed with a rolling of eyes.

He busied himself emptying his backpack, which contained bagged lunches, a computer with a satellite uplink, one grey-colored and one black-colored pieces of fabric, and a large number of pokeballs.

"What's this?" I asked.

"You made a comment about me keeping my Pokémon in the PC all the time. It's been bugging me, so I thought I'd take the opportunity to bring them out today." He let the first Pokeball out, Gengar.

"Gagar- ga! Haunthaunthaunt!" Seeing me in close proximity, Gengar immediately morphed into the ground. With years of experience, I grabbed my textbook and readied it. Gengar reappeared where my tush had sat a moment ago, gunning for a panty-shot. Instead he was met with the thwack of a book.

"I'm good," I whispered, congratulating myself for being able to time my attack with Gengar's phasing back into the material plane, allowing me to hit it with a solid object. That kind of timing can only come from hundreds of attempted panty-peeps too. Gengar nursed his bruised brow; Morty raised an eyebrow.

"Gengar, don't bother her. Help me release the others."

Dusknoir, Rotom, Spiritomb, Mismagius, Misdreavus, two Ghastly, a Sableye, a Shedinja, Tentacruel, Noctowl… More than forty Pokémon eventually materialized.

"Alright, now go play capture the flag. Black and Grey teams today," Morty ordered. The crowd of Pokémon let out a raucous cry and scrambled over each other. Two rough groups formed and then scattered across the hills.

"Capture the flag?"

"Yeah," he said, chuckling. "They treat it like a fun camping game, but I actually use it to train them. It's been over a year since I brought out the whole squad for a game, though. Oh, look at this." He booted up the computer.

"See? Ah, yeah. There goes Black Team leader, Gengar. I can track them with this and record the game, to evaluate later."

"Mmm. Cool."

We watched the game unfold while munching down lunch. At some point we were joined by Tyko. She chirped at me.

"What do you want?" She nudged my coat. "Oh, you're cold." I tucked her into the folds of my clothing, from which she watched the symbols flittering about the map. Soon enough, Skarmory waddled over, looking concerned. "You too?" I said. Skarmory cawed, so I let him snuggle closer. Morty glanced over, grinning. "Two's my limit, chump, no snuggles for you," I warned, to which he shrugged.

An hour or so passed as we tracked the game. Grey team, led by Dusknoir, was getting the better of Black Team. A third of the latter's members were captured and secured in a well-guarded hollow. Gengar was committing too many Pokémon to trying to free them, and ended up snowballing the situation out of control. He resorted to using a Crobat to carry the Black flag, desperately relocating the all-important cloth to one hiding spot after another.

"Dusknoir's smarter than I thought."

"Mmm, yeah. Probably my most strategic Pokémon. Gengar's clever and creative, but not so adept at the big-picture. Haha!"

"What's so funny?"

"It's getting messy out there." He pointed to above the next ridgeline, where sparks and whorls of energy erupted into the sky, evidence of a Pokémon battle. "Neither are really good leaders. No one respects the authority of the others; it's a big pain in the neck since I have to corral them all on my own."

"Sorry to hear that."

"I guess you wouldn't have that problem, with so few Pokémon."

"Actually, I don't have that problem because Steelix is my second-in-command and he's good at his job."

"Oh is that so?"

I nodded enthusiastically.

"So tell me," he began, "You arranged for this trip. I take it we're not a couple yet, so this can't be a date. So, is this about Graveler, or did you want to continue the conversation from the train ride?"

"I'll be fine," I responded, my mind focusing on the Graveler comment first. Even if it hurt, the weight and warmth of Tyko and Skarm-Skarm on my sides were helping to dull the pain. "Um, the train ride, actually."

"Ha, yeah. Deep stuff went down."

"Don't hide your feelings. Do you like me or not?" I demanded, almost rhetorically.

He gulped.

"Yeah I do."

"Then stop being so flippant about your feelings."

"That's just the way I am," he said, shrugging. His finger extended to the screen, pointing to a large brawl coagulating near the center of the war zone.

"Anyways, I wanted to talk to you about something. That lady you met when you got off the train, how do you know her?" I asked.

"Wah?" he jumped, startled. "What lady are you talking about?"

"Don't play dumb. The woman you hugged on the platform and ran off with."

"Ah… ohhhh… my friends came to greet me. Nothing serious."

"It is serious. How do you know her?"

"Well, she is…"

He drifted off into silence for a moment. "An acquaintance."

 "Yeah right." I don't believe him.

"Well, you being you, I don't think you want to know how I know her," he said.

"Spill it," I ordered. If he says what I think he's going to say…

"Well, we, you know… she was a one-nighter, from a long time ago. And since then we've been friends- platonic friends."

"You banjo'd with that old hag?!"

Morty couldn't contain himself. There was some unholy mixture of shock and laughter in his outburst. I couldn't contain my repugnancy either. That woman was at least fifty years old; I would never have guessed Morty was into MILFs. Yet, he's here, cracking his ribcage in laughter.

"Oh, jeeze, fuck, you were talking about Glacia."

"Yes, Glacia! Who did you think I was talking about? Flower girl?"

"Yeah."

"I don't care about your exes. You probably have, like, a hundred of them. As long as you stay away from them from now on. At least, if you want my affection."

"Isn't that a given in a relationship? Still, there's give and take- if you won't commit, I can't be tied down-" he started.

"No arguing!" I shouted at him. "You don't have that luxury with me, considering how far you still have to go to earn my good graces. BESIDES! Like I said, this isn't about your old flames or your love life. This is about Glacia. Who is she to you? Not one of said exes, I hope!"

"No, that'd be weird," he admitted. He seems amused at the offense I'm taking towards him. He'll understand why in a minute.

"She's Glacia. She's in the Hoenn Elite Four right now. I met her during my tour there, and she became my mentor. She's the reason I became good enough to win the Gym Leader tourney."

"Your mentor?!" I asked, incredulously. "You're kidding."

He shook his head.

"Not kidding."

"I don't want you seeing her ever again."

I stared at him with steely eyes (or I hoped they looked steely). He leaned back on one elbow, to put a little more space between us, and so that he could look directly at me. There was an air of bemusement around him.

"Ever again? Jasmine's that's pretty petty of you. Is this some sort of joke?"

"Never again!" I repeated, forcefully.

"You can't possibly be jealous. I said she and I have never even considered sleeping-"

"It's not about your bed-time cha-cha, doofus. That woman is evil and I forbid you from associating with her. Do that, or you lose me. Understand?"

"Evil?! Yeah, she's hard-nosed and cold, but that doesn't mean…"

"Fine, let me explain," I reached over and tapped him on the head with my knuckle. This gesture got him to shut up and listen for a moment.

"I saw Glacia and company meet you."

"So you did wake up then," he whispered, thinking to himself.

"I thought I recognized her, but couldn't be sure of myself. You know I have a hard time with facial recognition. It wasn't until our teleconference that I remembered. She used to live in Johto."

"Johto? Really? All this time, she never told me that," he said, somewhat not believing me.

"It was before we were even born. She had a relationship with Pryce. Ever been to Mahogany Town's gym?" He nodded. "And did you see the plaque out front? It says 'In loving memory of Piloswine, 1967-1987'. See that?" Again he nodded. "That woman is the reason for the '1987'."

"What? Are you telling me she murdered Pryce's Pokémon?" Now he looks shocked and in disbelief, in as much as Morty can ever look shocked.

"Close enough. She was in a relationship with Pryce, they had a falling out and broke up. She took Piloswine from him, moved out of the region, and then one day her bone-headed arrogance and recklessness became responsible for Piloswine's death. That was Pryce's precious childhood friend! Ever wonder why the old man deflects all attention away from himself? It's because he's been hurting for decades upon decades! He's kind to everyone else because he's been on the wrong end of the worst humanity has to offer and doesn't want anyone to experience that pain! That woman destroyed Pryce's life! I don't want you to talk, nor communicate, or even keep company with her, ever again. Got it?" I finished my rant, huffing.

"How do you know all of this?" Morty asked.

"Because Pryce is my mentor. I found him one night during our training. He had gotten extremely drunk and let the whole ugly tale slip out."

"I need time to process this," Morty said. He returned to facing the laptop screen, silently gazing at the Pokémon symbols. I bit my lip, hoping he would believe me, wishing he'd agree with and accept my wishes.

That woman. If ever there was a woman who wronged a man, she was it. Everything that Pryce had done for me, showing me kindness, understanding, patience, helping me through my underage Gym Leadership, and all with a total lack of lustful interest, had earned my respect when no other male had succeeded. The fact that this man, who I loved like my own grandfather, had dealt with such sorrow because of this woman, made my blood boil.

Pryce lost his closest companion, his best friend from the earliest years of his childhood, because of the selfish pride of a woman who took, but did not earn, his love. She pilfered his Pokémon during a messy divorce. Then she deliberately put herself into a dangerous situation for her own self-gain. When it spiraled out of control, she survived by condemning Piloswine to near-certain death. Months later, when they found Piloswine at the bottom of Shoal Cave, the "near-certain" part was removed.

I will never forgive this woman. And I will never love a man who tolerates her, either.

"Jasmine, I thought it over."

"And?"

"I want to talk to Glacia first, and maybe find out the truth from an unbiased source."

"I already did that. Talk to a … Walter Raylor, in Mossdeep. He was the chief Pokémon Ranger on the operation, he knows what happened."

"Okay. If it's as bad as you say, I'll ditch her from my social circle. It'll be hard; she's good friends with some of my friends."

"Tell them about what she did, convince them to do the same."

"Eh," he uttered. "I'm not sure I'm up to that."

"Pippip."

"Oh! Sorry, human matters. Too deep for you." I pet Tyko, who was looking at me with worried eyes. She had been able to sense the hostility coming out of me.

"So, you'll let me check this first?" Morty asked.

"Yes. Do it. In fact, I encourage it. See for yourself what a monster she is."

I had spent an inestimable time myself, tracking down the facts. It didn't seem possible to me, for a woman to be so stupid as to get into that situation, and so cruel as to save herself in that way. When I spoke with Mr. Raylor and saw the reports, I ran away and threw a private fit.

That anger subsided, eventually, replaced with pity and love for the surviving victim. Up until then, I had considered Pryce a kind, precious gentleman, a stark contrast to all the immature boys my own age. After that, he ascended to sainthood in my eyes; a martyr, to have actually suffered my own worst nightmare and still remained so benevolent to the human race and the universe at large.

I would sometimes fantasize, if I had been born earlier, that this was a man I could fall in love with. This is something I could never tell him, though.

"I never thought of you as being a controlling person, Jazz. Do you do this for everyone you hate?"

"In general? No, not at all. I make an exception for that one woman, though. I can't stand the thought of her and what she did to the only human I completely respect."

"I see. Well, if it's as bad as you make it out to be, I'll be sure to do something about it." His thoughts drifted on silently, while his attention turned back to the capture-the-flag game.

Gengar had taken a big risk and personally devoted himself to freeing the prisoners held by Grey team. His gambit had paid off. Two-thirds of the former prisoners were now following Gengar in a desperate jailbreak, dodging in and out and around the hills, trying to ditch their pursuers. The rules seemed to be that encounters were determined by light-battles, and that a Pokémon could sustain maybe 1/4^th of its max stamina before having to surrender.

Meanwhile, Crobat, carrying the Black flag, and his Honchkrow guard were being chased by Grey team member Rotom, and the lot were unwittingly heading straight towards Grey team's hide out.

"Do you ever play games with your Pokémon?" Morty asked.

"Not like this. I mean, can you imagine any game where Steelix, Magnemite, and Graveler can play fairly?" Oops. One of those Pokémon don't belong to me anymore. Losing her is starting to needle me in more ways than I expected.

"Huh. True. Video games? Wait, never mind, most of your Pokémon are lacking, um, hands." I giggled at his observation.

"Magneton loves watching me play. Amphy loves card games, I even started to teach him a trading card game. He seems to get the idea, even though he can't read."

"How does he play, then?" Morty asked.

"He recognizes the images and remembers the rules associated with them."

"Fascinating. What about poker?"

"Tried, he doesn't really like that one. Bluffing is not his forte."

"Eh," Morty shook his head disapprovingly. "I'm not really into the geeky kinds of games, poker and blackjack are more my style."

"Yeah, I seemed to recall that."

His uncanny ability to predict the cards bordered on precognition. He didn't go easy, either, which made playing against him as an amateur an unfun experience.

"Hmm."

We wasted another hour chatting idly. Three years had gone by since we spoke more than a few brief words. I had avoided him assiduously at every summit and conference we'd attended together. I'd even gone as far as to block and ignore him on the teleconference meetings up until this month's. Now that we were on speaking terms again, there was plenty to catch up on, and we finally didn't have such heavy topics like "feelings" getting in the way. It drifted between Pokémon, family difficulties, funny occurrences, gym battles, favorite diners, middle school memories, and all the like. Passing the hour mark, our conversation died off, in favor of watching the game. It looked like the conclusion was drawing near. Ghastly had succeeded in stealing Grey-team's flag, but was at a loss where his own flag was located. Meanwhile, Dusknoir had a covert group trailing him, letting the Ghastly lead them to Crobat's location. At least, that seemed to be the idea; Ghastly's cluelessness was frustrating the tails to no end. Meanwhile, some thirty Pokémon battled pointlessly in the center.

"You know, I've been thinking about the train ride too."

"You have?" I asked.

"Still wondering what you meant by 'I find you subjectively attractive'."

"Um, what else is there to say? I think that's pretty straight forward."

"You don't act like it," he said, accusingly.

"Oh that's what you mean," I said, now understanding his logic. "Girls aren't like boys, they don't fall in love based on looks. Even the most handsome guy in the universe and knowing nothing else besides, a girl won't develop a crush based on that. Only boys do that."

"Hmm."

"What?"

"Well, I've got a theory. Boys are able to do that, because girls are the way they are."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Girls put more of their personality into their looks. Like you, you always dress in very modest dresses; and you don't wear make-up, and you're so skinny. It says a lot about your personality and lifestyle. Boys notice those things. Maybe a guy's appearance isn't as reliable an indicator-"

"That's a really shallow thing to say," I countered. "Even if I dress how I like, it doesn't mean that's a cheat sheet to my personality. I get a lot of people who think I'm softer than I am because of that."

He shrugged.

"It's only a theory. I guess, I thought, with your personality, you'd have a little guy-logic in you."

"I do not!" What an offensive thing to say! How could he come to that conclusion?!

"Do to. I don't know many girls who are as stubborn and competitive as you."

"Ugh. Skarm, attack!" Skarm lashed out, an underpowered Drill Peck nailing Morty's ribcage. He clutched his side in mock agony.

"P-p-point made," he sputtered.

"Morty! You're handsome enough for me. Seriously, why worry about it? Girls have to worry about it so much more. Did I ever tell you how much time I have to spend to patch Whitney's ego up because she got rejected? Hours per session. Three times now I had to stop her from dyeing her hair black because her date made fun of her red-headedness. And Erika! Good grief, the way she moans about her weight issues! Do not ever mention the words "pounds", "kilograms", or "calories" around that lady."

"Hahahaha!"

"It's not funny!"

"Sorry." He's not sorry, he's still making merry at my increasingly exasperated expense.

"Stop! Listen to my point! My point is that you're fine, just worry about the important things, like how you treat others. Do this, and then I'll elevate your chances of us holding hands."

Apparently this Ludicolo has no intention of ever dating me, because he's face-down, choking-on-blanket laughing.

"What is so funny?!" I demanded.

"You-you- HAHAHAHA! Oh my gosh. Y-you- hahahaha! You can't- you can't possibly think like a guy. No guy has ever been so logical about a relationship. 'Elevate your chances of us holding hands'," he mimicked me in a supremely mocking manner.

"Are you only doing this whole romance thing in order to make fun of me?" I asked.

"Heavens, no! I'm here to introduce you to the sweet and tender world of sex, preferably by New Year's." He says this in the lightest tone, as if my virginity is just a joke to him. I considered what manner of tsundere violence was best suited to punish him, but thought better of it. He's probably expecting a childish outlash.

"Do you only want to sleep with me?" I asked bluntly.

"No…" he answered, but not definitively. I should reiterate.

"Do you want to sleep with me?"

… And now he's suddenly very awkwardly quiet. I suppose that's as good as a "Yes".

"Call me logical or call me strangely illogical in this messed up, hormone driven world, but there is a long list of specific steps you need to take if you want that pleasure. Here's step one- be serious with me when I'm being serious with you."

"But you're always serious," he whimpered, mockingly. He then threw up his arms, suddenly pelted by a number of pecks.

"Gyaah! What the hell!"

"Tyko!" The Piplup had made her way to the top of Morty's head and was now taking shots at his headband. Seems like she's curious about the headband and wants it for herself. The barrage of exploratory pecks sent Morty into a duck-and-cover position. I crawled forward on hands and knees to remove the interloper. Grabbing Tyko caused me to lose balance, till I landed on my stomach, my face a few inches from a cowering Morty. The pecking ceased, and he looked up, eye-to-eye, with me.

"In all seriousness," he said, "how many steps before I get to kiss you?"

His breath lay gently on my nose and cheeks. It felt cool and minty, like he had pointedly used mouthwash this morning.

"Three," I answered. A completely made up number. I hoped it would be enough.

Enough for what? To prepare myself? For a kiss?

"And what is the next step?" he asked in a level tone. With him, though, I can't tell if he's serious or just preparing for the next punch line.

"Um…"

Shoot. He caught me off guard.

"Grr! Next step, um… aha! Glad you asked! I have a problem." I sat up, not feeling comfortable with us being in each other's faces like that. Tyko was cradled in my lap. Skarmory walked around, also wanting to be held.

"Stop it! You're too big!" He insisted, which is why I found myself with 74 lbs worth of raptor in my lap. The extra weight hurt. If Skarm thinks he can do this when he's full grown and 50 lbs heavier, he's, as they so aptly say, bird-brained! ('By that time, he'll be heavier than me!' I thought. Wow!)

"What kind of problem," Morty asked, concerning my previous statement.

"I'm looking at closing the gym down for I don't know how long. The shield generator is malfunctioning. The shields are breaking at the worst times. It's only a matter of time before some challenger gets hurt, and I get double-slapped with a lawsuit and League safety fines. I had my techie look at it, and he says it's working. I think he's full of crock. Furthermore, I can't afford to replace the thing."

"The League was the one who mandated the shields. Won't they pay for it?"

"Not in a five-year window. They'll pay for repairs, but, as I said, the repair guy doesn't believe me that it's broke. I bet I can get them to give me a discount, but with the loan for the auto-tiller, I don't have enough money even for that. I'm stuck."

Morty leaned back on his two hands, looking up to the cloudless blue sky for inspiration. "Hmmmm."

He knows his way around the League bureaucracy better than I do. There's got to be something he can think of; hopefully a loophole that will get the League to pay for a new generator.

"Um… Well, I can't help you," he said. He cut me short with an upheld palm before I could interrupt. "I know someone who can. It's just…"

"Just what?" I asked.

"I'm not sure you'll want his help."

"Huh." I sighed. That could mean any number of people, even ones I've never met.

"Is it a male? Because if it is, as long he behaves-"

"It's Volkner."

"Oh."

I really should have expected that.

"I could call in a favor from him; he could be down here by tomorrow evening and take a look at it. But, I don't know if that's okay with you. And, even if it is, I might have to run it by him." Morty's look told me the rest. I'm not sure he'd be willing to help you, Jasmine.

The last I saw him, Volkner was looking pretty defeated, courtesy of Morty here. I wonder what kind of friendship they had, to make Morty even think he could ask him to do this kind of favor. Or maybe the debt he mentioned goes deeper than I could imagine.

How do I feel about it? Right before the battle, when I met him along with the rest of the group, Volkner had been completely focused on the battle. I can understand he was concentrating on the upcoming match, so he could be forgiven for ignoring me then. Still, that kind of deprived me of the chance of seeing how well he was taking his rejection. It's a trivial thing that I normally wouldn't bother myself with, but now it seems manifestly important.

Maybe allowing Volkner to come fix my shields is worth the opportunity to find out?

"He's a swell guy. I mean, you're a girl, and he never mistreats or rough talks with women. I'm pretty sure there's no hard feelings there from his side, or even if there were, he wouldn't let them out." Morty gyro'd into a sitting position.

"Honestly, I can't think of any other way I could help. Closing your gym would be pretty bad for your probation, wouldn't it?"

I thought it over, and nodded. Outside reasonable guidelines, challengers who've been turned away or deprived of the chance to face me could be counted against my win ratio. Not to mention the cascading effects upon my gym even if I had not been under probation, such as the loss of sponsorships and reputation.

"Why'd you turn Volkner down, anyways?" Morty asked.

"Why do you want to know?" I asked, suspicious.

"Well, so I could avoid the same mistakes."

"He didn't make a mistake, so much as he was born a man. And he's… just not quite my type. I think." That's the two reasons I had given myself when I arranged our final tortuous meeting before the summit. To be truthful, I really hadn't spent any time reflecting upon it since then. "Do you worry about it?"

Morty went sheepish on me, like a shy Mareep.

"Heh, a little. He and I are a lot alike, personality wise. It makes me feel like if I'm the same way, I'm going to have some personality flaw you secretly hate," he divulged.

"It's no secret, I hate your frat boy attitude. But, let's say I've had since middle school to become inoculated to it. Volkner's a stranger to me, and he came on too fast for that strangeness to rub off." I crossed my arms across Skarmory's chest. Me, Skarm, and Tyko all stared seriously and determinedly at Morty. He wilted under the combined ocular focus fire.

"Is that all? Huh."

"How has he been?" I asked. My mind had flittered back to worrying about probation. It occurred to me that, despite the complicated feelings involved, I might have to bury those feelings for the chance of getting the generator working. In other words, there were times you had to fake concern and play nice.

Morty 'hmmmed'.

"Well, to let you in on privileged information, he took that rejection damn hard the first night. I mean, really damn hard. Since then, though, he seems like he's mellowed out. Haven't gotten him to speak up about it, but I know he's on a new dating site. So that might say something about his attitude. All that taken into account, are you willing to entertain him?"

"Yes," I answered. "As long as he's willing to come."

Even if he respawns an unrequited crush, that's something I could tolerate, or even take advantage of. Anything to keep my Gym Leadership.

"Alright. I think I can convince him to come out. It was a pretty clutch favor I did him, this ought to be nothing."

"Okay."

Well, that was set.

We turned back to the nearly-dead laptop. The capture-the-flag game was about to end. Ghastly had been successfully tracked, giving away Crobat's location. The bat pokemon had been surrounded by Dusknoir's forces and the cordon was tightening. Ghastly had been neutralized, the Grey flag was standing by in Rotom's clutches, and Gengar's forces were captured, fainted, disorganized, or successfully held off outside of the cordon.

"Guess it's Grey's win today," Morty stated.

"Yep."

It took seven more minutes, but a few seconds before the battery died, the tracking program rang and flashed, indicating a Grey team victory.

"What are you up to this week?" I asked.

"Gym battles. Been pretty slow, though. Guess I scared some of the competition off with that summit performance. People still think I have Darkrai. Besides that, me and Eusine are tracking down an old manor in the boonies. We think there's a real chance for some paranormal shiggy going down there."

"Huh. Have fun with that." As if real ghosts actually exist.

"And you?"

"Gym battles, gym battles, and more gym battles, if I can get the shields working. Oh, and paperwork. Thirty pages of it due by Friday," I answered.

I sighed. Morty reached out and rubbed a hand through my hair.

"It'll be alright."

We got up, fighting off sleeping limbs to do so. The picnic was cleaned up and Morty's group appeared over the ridgeline, returning from their game.

"So, remember what to do?" I asked.

"Contact Volk-"

"No, before that."

He sighed and hung his head.

"Find out the truth about Glacia, and THEN distance myself from her IF it's as bad as you say."

"Correct answer."

"And then I contact Volkner and see if he's willing to help you."

"Thank you."

"You can thank me with a kiss," he inquired, hopeful.

"That was only step one, of three," I reminded him. I patted him on the shoulder.

"Fine fine, fine! The things I do! The troubles I must endure!" he exclaimed to the sky. He turned back down to me. "Okay, then you have to do something for me."

"No, I don't have to do anything for you, but I'll take suggestions," I said.

"Take care of Piplup- I mean Tyko- properly. Love her. And especially don't confuse your feelings for her with the Pokémon YOU chose to give away. Got it?"

I looked down upon my little penguin. She was blowing bubbles into Skarm's face, and looked about to get herself stuffed under his belly again.

"For once, Morty, you are imperatively correct. I have no choice." I saluted him and smiled, faintly.

"So, if I don't get a kiss," he said, leading me on. He then opened his arms wide. How amusing, but he's been much more tolerable today than usual. I'll humor him.

Thump.

We hugged.

Chapter Text

"Tyko, I have no heavenly clue how you got up there but you need to come down this instant!"

The infant was growing exponentially in every aspect. Not two days had passed and she was already taking commands and fighting in mock battles. Her trouble-causing streak had also blossomed. Namely, her "gets-into-inexplicable-and-dangerous-places-she-has-no-business-being-in-and-causing-mayhem" habit. Currently, that entailed roosting in the metal rafters that criss-crossed the ceiling, four stories above my head.

"Pippippip!"

"You are kidding me! You can't even fly! How'd you get up there?" To my horror, I realized she might have no way of getting down, and that I would probably have to fetch her personally. I gulped. Steelix himself wasn't tall enough to reach. Could Magneton levitate that high?

"Excuse me, anyone here?" A voice came drifting in from the entrance hall.

"Sorry, we're closed for maintenance. You'll have to come another day for your challenge."

"Right, that's actually why I'm here."

"Oh!" I turned, my attention instantly wrenched from the Piplup's predicament. There, in the doorway, stood the lean, tall figure of Volkner.

"Hello."

He was wearing his usual turkish military jacket, but underneath he was unusually well dressed: business slacks and what appeared to be a collared dress shirt. It was a noticeable difference from his usual grungy workers outfit- a pleasant upgrade, in fact. He looked… adult-like, for once, and not like an overgrown boy.

"Having a problem? Oh, I see." He followed my gaze and found Tyko waddling back and forth across a beam. "It's stuck?"

I rolled my eyes. "Yes. That would be the case."

"One minute. I can get him down."

"It's a she."

"Mmm." A Premium Ball rolled into his hand. He set it to release midair, and a large flapping creature appeared. Zapdos, one of the legendary bird trio.

"That's impressive. How did you come by such a rare Pokémon?" I asked.

"One minute." He mounted atop Zapdos' back and the pair flew aloft. Slight, expert tuggings with his thighs guided the bird, like a trained equestrian. It was mere moments before they were hovering before Tyko.

"Come here."

"Pippitypiplup!" Tyko readily flung herself from her perch, into Volkner's outstretched arms. The ensemble lighted upon the ground, safe and sound. Tyko happily waddled over to me, tripping up and bonking her head on the floor. She recovered easily, like a rubber toy, and proceeded to run circles around me. I took a moment to scold her, to no avail. Seeing all the harsh words proving to be futile, I returned to facing Tyko's savior.

"Thanks."

"Just returning a favor," Volkner shrugged.

"To m-?" I almost blurted out, before realizing my mistake. There was no possible way I had ever done something to indebt Volkner to myself. He was referring to Morty and whatever leverage the goofball had over him.

"So, um… the shields aren't working."

"Right. Let's take a look."

I guided him to a small grate in the floor, an access hatch to the cramped chambers underneath the gym floor. I pulled the latch up; Tyko hopped down before I could stop her. I sighed.

"Magnemite, Flash." Magnemite emerged and began glowing. It saw the open hole and instinctively floated inside. Myself and then Volkner jumped down to complete the spelunking party.

We crawled/hunkered between various contraptions, pipes, and dangling wires. The going was not easy. It reminded me of the gymnasium basement excursion my first day at Ecruteak Middle School.

"What's this?" Volkner asked, pointing to the red-and-black patterned machinery splayed out in every direction.

"That's the auto-tiller system. It's for fixing the gym floor after Steelix has torn it up." He seemed interested, so I explained the mechanism in as much depth as my technically challenged mind was capable of.

"Blue-on-white are the battle sensors. They run to the server in the back office. Plain blue is the air conditioning or plumbing. Blue-on-green are the shield systems. There's the generator."

"I see." We ducked our way over to a mini-cooper-sized piece of equipment. The shape reminded me of a rose flower that had yet to bloom, surrounded by yellow containers marked with warning labels. Tyko was about to peck at the access panels before I grabbed her by the scruff of the neck.

"NO! Don't touch anything here!" She squirmed and resisted. I smacked her beak. "I said NO!" I smacked her again. "Does that hurt?! Good! It'll hurt a hundred times more if you keep pecking at these wires!" She got the message and settled down. I tentatively lowered her to the ground, making sure she didn't dive off into the darkness. "Magnemite, keep an eye on her."

"She's not that well behaved," Volkner observed.

"She's just young and curious. It'll work itself out."

"Mmm. Probably." He hunkered over to the generator and began looking over it. His hands groped the machinery, delicately, touching it with the gentleness of a lover.

"Capacitors," he said aloud, tapping the six yellow containers. "Power feed." He ran his hand along the thick black wires attached to the bottom of the containers. "Sensory input, command output, diametrics, processor, central projector, refractor control." One by one he checked down the individual components of the machine.

"There's no signs of burning or wear. The wiring's a little loose, but that shouldn't be a problem. I'll need to check the sensors and refractors out on the floor too. Can you tell me exactly what's going wrong?"

"Um… right. The shields usually work, but in the middle of matches, some attacks are getting through."

"For instance?"

"Well, there was a Self-Destruct where a bit of rubble shot out. And a Rock Throw that went clean through," I said, biting my lip and remembering the incident that caused Graveler and I's mutual loss of faith.

"Huh. What about spread attacks? Or Pokémon themselves?"

"Spread attacks?" I repeated.

"Like Flamethrower, or Water Gun."

"No, those have been stopped."

"Hmm." He scratched his chin. "I'm definitively going to have to take a look at the floor systems, then."

"Can you fix it?" I asked.

"I don't know yet. This is going to take awhile, at least. You might not want to stick around."

"Okay." I actually did want to stay, but the way he made his suggestion, it sounded like doing so would be a hindrance.

"But can you keep Magnemite down here." He rubbed the living light bulb as if it was a familiar pet.

"Sure."

"Thanks. Appreciate the light."

"Tyko?" Except Magnemite had failed his orders and the little penguin had run off. Dear lord. Hopefully she took the smacking to heart and is staying out of the electrical wires.

"Well, um, I'll leave you be."

All considering, he's being civil and businesslike. I can't get anything out of him relative to his feelings towards me.

"Tyko? Where are you? Tyko!" I called after the Pokémon.

"Pipipip!"

"Huh?"

Tyko was chirping, but it sounded muffled and distant.

"Where are you?"

"Piploop!"

Ah? Tyko continually chirped in that muffled, echoed tone. It was close now, but still not clear. I drifted amongst machinery, honing in on her voice. She was close, closer… she was right beside me now, but I still couldn’t see her.

"Pip!"

I slowly, hesitatingly put my ear to an air duct.

""Pippipipipi!"

Oh dear. She's inside the air duct.

"Just… how?!"

Anger rising. Let's combat it by focusing on the silver lining. I had ordered her to stay away from the electrical wiring, and she had obeyed that. At least she was safe, if still, you know, trapped in an underground air conditioning system.

The next fifty minutes were spent playing handyman as I searched for a way to get at my Pokémon. Every so often the sounds of metal-on-metal and electrical revving came from the direction of the generator. We two humans worked our little corners of the basement, undoubtedly trying to focus on the problems at hand and not on the strange emotional dynamic between us. At least, that's how I felt about it.

"Come here." I looked and beckoned at Tyko, who looked back at me with a puzzled expression. It probably had something to do with my upside-down face. I was hanging from a ledge like an Aipom, and shaped like some undiscovered form of Unown. The blood was beginning to congregate in my head.

"Tyktyk piploop!" A draft of freezing air blew down the duct, startling the Pokémon. She burst into an accidental Bubblebeam, which popped across my face.

"Ouch!" Argh! That hurt! Tyko, hurry over!"

She did so, silently, waddling up to my upside-down face. Her fin trailed the red, raw surface of my skin, which, suddenly, she began licking. It tickled, causing a cry from me.

"Ahaha! Stop that! I'm not mad, just get out of there."

I clung her to my chest and then lifted the both of us out.

"Hey." Volkner walked up to find me suspended by one leg, dress falling down my face and the Piplup in my arms.

"Hello."

He was averting his eyes, like he was repulsed by the sight of me making a clown of myself.

"Your panties are showing."

"Hmm." I cranked my head skyward to see my exposed undergarments. Well, it's not so bad, I'm wearing boyshorts-style today. "Well this is embarrassing. Please don't look?"

"I'm not."

With much huffing and a little pain, I managed to extricate myself out of the lewd position.

"So I figured out what was going on."

He led us back topside. Once we were clear, he began pointing out instruments one by one and explaining.

"Your sensors are fine. The refractors are a bit worn but okay. I was convinced it was something messing with them at first. The way you mentioned projectiles breaching the field sounded like an arena-side failure, not a generator problem."

"Oh great." His tone means the problem is down below and not easy to fix. Which means it'll be more expensive.

"Okay, back down we go."

We made the journey back to the generator. He waved a hand over the rose-shaped machine. "The projector core is okay, as is the projector. You mentioned your techie didn't find anything wrong; that's because he probably only checked the core and the obvious silly crap like wiring. Power supply is also fine. Which leaves the processing unit."

He hunched over an exposed panel, and, delicately, pulled out a palm-sized piece of machinery. It looked like the inside of a keyhole, with numerous teeth and slots. One end was encased in computer circuitry, the other, flayed end resembled an extremely complicated gimbal.

"So, basically, a shield generator projects a variably-powered force field across the arena. You can't have a full strength shield covering the entire arena all the time, though. One, nothing could get through the shield: pokeballs, humans, light, air… Two, it would take a nuclear power plant's full capacity just to keep it running. So what it does is sensors detect where, when and how strong a shield needs to be. Say, at this point in time and at this square-foot of air space, a random Thunderbolt is headed towards the audience. The sensors tell the generator to instantly create a shield there."

He held up the keyhole-like device he had extracted from the generator.

"This is a tumble calibrator," he began explaining. "In simple terms, it translates the digital signal from the computer into mechanical signals that the generator uses to shape the force field. It's the interface between the computer sensors and processor, and the actual core of the shield generator.

"So, it's a messenger boy device," I ventured. Volkner stared at me, surely thinking what a plebe I am.

"More like an engineer guy reading a blueprint and telling the construction workers what to do, and the blueprint is changing every few thousandths of a second."

"It sounds really complicated," I said, reinforcing my position as captain obvious.

"It is, and it gets worse."

He held the device up to our noses, so that I could see every minute detail.

"See these teeth? The way the digital signal is converted into a mechanical output is that these micromotor "teeth" tap against these tiny magnetic plates. Take a look at these plates."

I did.

"They look stained, or tarnished," I guessed.

"Not tarnished, scratched. Microscopic scratching. Strong, constant vibrations can cause the teeth to scratch the surface of the magnetic plates. Over time, if the scratches build up, it can cause the signal to become unreliable. This means that, sometimes, when a sharp, localized pressure hits the shields- like a Rock Throw- the signal telling the generator to spike its output is garbled and the system reacts too slowly, if at all. That's when you get the rock breaking through the barrier; however, if it was a whole Pokémon or a Surf attack, the system doesn't need to react as fast and it can still handle the load, masking the problem."

"I think I follow."

"Strange, though." He stood upright (as well as one could "stand" in this four-foot high crawlspace). "It should take decades for this kind of wear, the rest of the generator should break down way before this happens. Hmm."

"Hmm," I mimicked.

"Do you get a lot of heavy vibrations? Like seismic activity?"

"No, not at all."

"You sure?"

"Well, Earthquake attacks from Steelix, but the shields should protect from that, right?"

"Yeah- if they're always on and on max settings."

"Oh…" Crap.

It was a habit of mine to turn down the shield's strength unless I was facing serious competition- or turning it off altogether during training. So this is… all my fault? Gah! How stupid can I be?! A quick glance at Volkner's expression reaffirmed my conclusion. It just brimmed with 'What a dumbass she is," exasperation.

"You know, if you've been ordering Earthquakes and the like when the shield's not on, you might want to check your building's foundations too."

I'm an idiot. I'm an idiot. I'm an idiot.

I only wanted to save on power bills! Damn it!

"Can you- can you fix it?" I asked.

"Depends."

A sly twinge passed across his lips and eyes. Like he was thinking of something- something not nice.

"Depends on what?" I subconsciously backed a few inches away from Volkner.

"A new calibrator isn't cheap. On the other hand, I could outfit it with new plates, but that could take more than just a few hours."

"Um… I'm not sure I'd impose on you like that," I said.

"You wouldn't be," he said, trying, in vain, to assure me.

"I don't think I-"

"Don't underestimate my debt towards Morty. He's not going to forgive me if I half-ass this job. A day wasted? That's nothing."

"Still… I can take care of Morty. If you don't want to do this, I'll understand." I told him this, worrying all the while about my tone and deliverance. It felt like one wrong word, one negative pitch and the volcano would come uncorked. He was still, pondering my stated position.

"Well, if not, I know a site where you could buy a replacement…" He turned his back, as if to leave.

It's subtle. He's daring me to take his offer. I can't tell but I'm afraid that his plan is to have me use him, to indebt myself to him, to make me feel guilty and make me want to owe him- owe him what? Not money, I'm sure of that! Morty, is your friend really so honorable as you claimed? Would he guilt trip a female into a kiss? Into a blowjob?

Am I making this up, pulling wild assumptions out of the blue? Not quite, they're not groundless, there's evidence of emotional underpinnings in every little word that's passed between us, but the unanswerable question is whether those emotions imply perverted intentions. Or is he merely pained by having to work for someone who rejected him?

"Wait!"

He stopped short.

Could we possibly get through this without bringing up his previous feelings for me? I know I had been curious about the issue, and had even accepted Volkner's assistance as a pretense to find out; but now I'm regretting that curiosity.

"Um… do you want to do it?" I asked.

"Yes," Volkner answered, without hesitation.

"Oh."

Did he understand what I had asked him? Not whether he would do it, not whether he needed to do it to settle his debt to Morty. I wanted to know if he wanted to do this personally. Which really means, did he want to do this because he had feelings for me…?

"What is it?" he asked.

Grasp for an answer, something vague and oblique.

"I just feel bad for having you do this for me." Too oblique. Stop avoiding the issue, Jasmine. "Considering…" I trailed off. That should be enough to give him the hint.

"That… doesn't matter. I'd be glad to help anyone with a tech problem. Anyone at all," he insisted.

"Really? I mean, I mean, I mean… I mean to say, I don't want to be playing with your feelings."

"And what about yours?" he asked.

"It's still not…" I gulped, and fell silent. Life would be incredibly simple if I could just discuss feelings as easily as we just discussed the shield generator's technical issue. I can't though. I'm hung up and afraid. Afraid of what? Volkner? No, not of Volkner reacting poorly. He doesn't feel like the kind of guy to hurt a girl, physically or even verbally. Rather, I'm afraid of being judged by him, having him think poorly of me.

"If they haven't changed, there's nothing to worry about. I'm over that. I'll do this job just for fun." He stepped back, and put his hands on his hips.

"I'm sorry for bringing it up."

My voice is soft, demure, recalcitrant. There's all sorts of signs, the tone of voice, the focus of the eyes, the posture of the body, things that tell you what a person is really saying beyond their words; and most of the time it's difficult to translate this into writing.

It was his body language, as he so-readily agreed to work for me and batted down my objections, that told me everything. I understand now.

He likes me. He still likes me. Even if I'll never return his feelings, even if his conscious mind tells his heart it's fruitless, these pangs of attraction won't go away for him. I understand that feeling all too well.

So he's willing to do this job for me, not just because of his debt to Morty, but also because he wants to. Not to seduce me; he's past that. He wants to be kind to me.

I feel like I've been humbled. I suspected Volkner of foul intentions when he's done nothing offensive. His actions are driven by pure and empathetic emotions. Emotions? Call it what it is: Love, if only the kind of puppy-love associated with crushes.

But he's a stranger. I'm not comfortable with him. I don't how to deal with him. I can't will myself into allowing new people, especially men, especially love interests, into my personal life. Morty has that advantage, that he's been there since long before I formed my identity.

If only Morty showed that genuine love and affection that Volkner is showing me. It may be the man is simply not capable of feeling that particular kind of love, or maybe he still needs to learn it, or he has those kinds of feelings and it's too difficult translating them into actions. If Morty were as open and affectionate as Volkner, wouldn't that solve all of the issues I have with the boy? Wouldn't that make him the man of my dreams?

I'm sorry, Volkner. So sorry. In a fair world you would have met the girl of your dreams and she would love you back. As is, I don't feel that love for you.

Now, I have the choice of which of two evils I should throw upon him. I can take advantage of his crush, and use him, and lead him on for my personal gain, only to drive him deeper into despair.

Or I can refuse him and destroy his feelings right here and now.

He's not able to look at me. He's staring at the floor, awaiting my response but unable to look me in the eye. It's pitiful. It's heart-wrenching. I can't bring myself to hurt him anymore. I may pay for this later, but I'll try to compromise- on the side of self-gain.

"I don't want to waste your whole day. Is there some less expensive way to fix it without replacing the whole thing?"

"Um," he drifted off, checking his workshop-like memory. "I don't know what the machinery market is like here, but you might be able to find shops with junk calibrators. You might find ones with burnt circuitry. I can salvage the gimbal mechanism and gerrymander it to this one. It'd take 30 or 40 minutes."

"How much would that cost?"

"Depends, it can vary a lot. 12,000, at most, probably less."

"I see." That's expensive, but only in the sense of incurring a credit-card debt (as opposed to a bank loan, like what a new generator would cost).

Volkner was able look me eye to eye now. The atmosphere of our conversation had the edge taken off. Talking shop seems to relax him and keep his focus off his feelings.

"So if I bought one, would you install it for me? Would it be easy?"

"Easy? Relatively so, with my skill level," he said.

"Then just do that. Where can I find one of these shops?" I asked.

He put a hand through his hair.

"You wouldn't know what to look for. Better to let me scout the area, and then you can reimburse me when I find one."

"Oh I see." I need to act like I don't want to bother him, so- "Please don't tell me you came all the way from Sinnoh just because Morty told you to."

"I did, but don't worry about it. I wouldn't mind taking a look at the lighthouse here while I'm visiting. It's kind of famous, there's a lot of back-and-forth between fans of Glitter and Vista, which one is better. So-" he cut me off as I was about to interrupt, "-I'll be back tomorrow, in the afternoon. Hopefully with the part. You'll be here?"

I nodded in affirmation.

He led the way out of the crawlspace, till we re-emerged onto the gym floor. He looked around, taking in the gym's setup in a casual, relaxed manner. It was as if he was looking for the character of the place. That saying "The Leader is the Soul of the Gym and the Gym is a reflection of its Leader" came to mind. It felt like Volkner was trying to trace my soul from the walls of the gym.

All he would find, though, is a solid metal casing. I've hidden myself behind a wall of steel.

"This is good," he nodded, as if had actually gleaned some secret insight into my soul. "You take care. You too." He patted Tyko and Magnemite as he departed. The latter's Flash finally flickered off, the former chirped contentedly. Tyko brushed against my leg.

"Oh, now you're acting like a Glameow." I picked her up to coddle her.

"It's harder then I imagined, Tyko. Being on the receiving end of a crush from someone I just don't feel anything for. It sucks. Especially when he's so darn nice."

 "Amphy!"

No response, even though I knew he was here. As winter solstice crept up on us, the Light Pokémon was required to start work earlier and earlier. It was 7:05 in the evening and the lighthouse beacon had already been shining for some time now. I made my way through the lighthouse suite to reach the focal chamber.

"Amphy, are you in there? I know you're in there! Answer me! I brought some new friends for you to meet!"

The intense light radiating from the chamber made it uncomfortably hot to step inside, never mind the problem of being blinded. So I stood at the threshold, calling in and waiting for a reply. The only answer I got from behind the wall of light was a barely audible mumble.

I let Skarmory out of his pokeball. Tyko wasn't fond of her pokeball, mainly because she wanted to explore and sightsee. She was small enough, though, so I had carried her under one arm on the way here.

"They're our new team members: Tyko, a Piplup, and Skarmory."

"Piplup!"

"Skaaaw!"

"Nnnnn?" A soft utterance floated out of the room. It was an indifferent inquiry, not particularly interested in its own answer; as if I had said enough just by naming the new arrivals.

"You seem tired. I wonder… Amphy, are you having trouble sleeping? It seems like you're always sleeping late, but maybe it's because you're up late. Is it because the longer nights are making you work longer? You know the ships have standing orders to weigh anchor at 4:00 AM, you don't have to wait till dawn…"

My barrage of questions might as well have been rhetorical. Amphy wasn't interested in conversation tonight.

"What's wrong? You've been acting strange all month!" I said loudly, with more force than I'm usually comfortable with. When even that exclamation went unanswered, I grew perturbed. There was a shelf by the side, where several supplies were kept. I grabbed one particular item, a pair of goggles.

On second glance, I spotted four more of the things. They were heavily tinted, to allow for vision even under the intense glare of an Ampharos' Flash. I donned a pair myself, and then helped one each onto Skarmory (difficult to fit) and Tyko (same as Skarm, except magnified by the her squirmy demeanor). The Piplup immediately bolted for the door.

"AMPHA AMPHA!"

"Tyko!"

Looks like the runt startled our beloved beacon Pokémon. I stepped inside. Even with the shaded lenses I was forced to squint a little- but not for long, as Amphy's tail-incandescence was disrupted and weakened momentarily.

"Tyko, what are you doing?"

Playing cat-and-mouse with Amphy's tail-bulb, that's what.

"Tyko! Stop that!"

"AMPHA!!!"  Amphy was even more upset than me, showing an anger bordering on panic. He tried, in vain, to hold his tail-bulb out of Tyko's reach. The irregular movement taxed the automated mirror systems as they attempted to keep up with the shifting light source. Outside, the steady ray of illumination quivered in and out of existence. I couldn't allow this to continue.

I darted in, grabbed the Piplup by her foot, and lifted her upside down. Without hesitation I smacked her beak.

"PIP!" she cried out in pain. I smothered her in a hug.

"Seriously! You're such a troublemaker! You should have been a trainer's Pokémon, so you could go on an adventure." Her chirps of consternation came out from underneath my coat sleeves, muffled and downcast. I held her out at arm's length, still upside down. "Are you going to behave?" The bulbous head with tinted goggles donned chirped and nodded. A moment later I let her down onto the floor. Amphy stared at the miscreant cautiously. "Great, you made a terrible first impression."

Skarmory hung back, content to watch the spectacle.

"Tyko, meet Amphy. Amphy, meet Tyko. I hope you two get along better than this from now on." I made sure to direct this warning towards Tyko, but it was Amphy that seemed hurt by the accusation.

"And this is Skarmory." Skarmory waddled around the dais Amphy sat upon.

Amphy observed his trio of visitors, looking disturbed. It was not long before he jerked up in realization, apparently remembering his duties. The tail-bulb was raised up and resumed radiating at full power.

"So, Amphy, are you going to be stubborn and still not tell me the problem?"

"Phoo."

"Well, I'm sorry then, if I can't help you." I stepped back, intending to exit the premise. However, my back met a solid object that hadn't been there before. I barely managed to hold a yelp inside.

"An Ampharos lights your place, huh? Interesting."

A pair of large hands held me by the shoulders, arresting my collision.

"Volkner, what are you doing here?" I asked, surprised and dazed.

The boy looked down on me. He had taken a pair of goggles for himself. They made him look like a giant insect, but glancing at the mirrors, of the four of us, they looked most appropriate on his head.

"I told you I wanted to check out the Glitter Lighthouse. What are you doing here?" he asked in turn.

"I take care of Amphy." I beckoned towards the Ampharos, who had taken a napping position, ignoring us.

"I see. He's your Pokémon. It is a he, right?"

"Yes." He looked over my other two Pokémon. "Piplup. Didn't expect to see you again so soon." Tyko responded by jumping and hugging his knee. Skarmory clickity-clacked over, nudging Tyko and attempting to coax her away from the stranger.

"And a Skarmory. Haven't seen one of those in a while."

I nodded and knelt down to remove Tyko from Volkner's leg. She must have construed my grip as a hug, since she snuggled backwards into my chest and bubbled happily.

"They're both new to my team. The one has a daddy-complex for the other. I was introducing them to Amphy."

"How did that turn out?"

"There was a fuss. This interloper was causing trouble." I patted Tyko on the head.

"I'm getting a good feeling for her personality already," Volkner said. He gestured back towards Amphy. "It's been a long time since Vista used Pokémon for lighting. Fifty years, at least. Why does Glitter have Ampharos? Why not a spotlight?"

Volkner's appearance surprised me, but talking about things like Pokémon and technology put me at ease. Even if I'm no techie, lighthouses are my one area of expertise, so even on that account I don't have to fear sounding stupid.

"There's no cheap way to match Ampharos' luminosity output. It would cost too much in gas or electricity to do so."

"Have you thought of using Solarflare Generators? They use solar power, so they shouldn't be as expensive over the long-term."

"I know. Still, we don't get enough sunlight to run one of those at max power."

"Do you really need the power?" he asked.

"We do. The harbor can't settle for a less powerful system because the Whirl Islands create abnormally heavy fog, especially during the winter. So, cost-for-power requirements considered, there's only been one solution. They've had an Ampharos lighting Olivine Harbor now for six generations."

"Huh. Doesn't he get bored, doing this every night?" Volkner asked, indicating Amphy. I reflected for a moment.

"Maybe. He has been acting up recently. Doesn't like to talk or play games like usual. Always in a sour mood. It's like he's depressed. You're an Electric-specialist, any special insight?"

He rubbed a hand through his hair. Thick, luscious hair, I noticed.

"You probably know more about Ampharos psychology than I do, but…"

"Hmm?"

He paused for a moment before continuing.

"Does he have to light up every night?"

"Yes, basically." I thought over the workload Amphy was forced to bear. "The Whirl Islands, like I said, are basically giant fogbank factories. We can go months without a single clear night. Amphy probably has to work 330 nights a year, including straight through winter, and nearly uninterrupted through late autumn and early spring."

Volkner nodded.

"Don't you think that's a little too taxing on the Pokémon?"

"Hmm." I had thought about this, but failing to see a solution, I had swept it to the back of my mind.

"I'm just a stranger, haven't been here for more than a few minutes, only have the barest info, but…" He stepped forward until he was standing beside Amphy. His hand gently ran down the Pokémon's flank, massaging the pale skin and feeling the fine, thin fuzz of his fur. "I'd say Ampharos feels trapped here. He probably needs to get out more."

Trapped?

I hadn't thought of it in that way before.

"I suppose you're right," I told him.

Amphy rarely, like twice-a-year rarely, left the immediate vicinity of the lighthouse. Weeks could go by where he never even ventured to the bottom floor. He slept through most of the day, and even though his work was not that taxing, it kept him rooted in one spot for up to 10 hours every single night.

Yes, I had thought about how this kind of sedentary life might effect his mental health- but perhaps I had underestimated how badly the effect was. If that was true, Amphy might be experiencing the Pokémon equivalent of a nervous breakdown. In that case…

Oh no.

"Amphy?" I called out. No reply.

I had lost Graveler because I was too prideful to admit that I had wronged her. Yet, even with her, I had known I was wronging her all the way through. I had been aware of my abuse, pride had simply tricked me into justifying that abuse. But now? Now my fears came back to hack into my heart in a whole new way.

Had my pride clouded my judgment AGAIN? Had I assumed, just because I spent more time and more energy and more love and more worry upon Amphy than all my other Pokémon combined, that what I was doing was for his own good? Had I falsely assumed that Amphy loved me just because I divulged so much love and spent so much effort on him?

I grabbed Volkner's hand out of reflex, the fear gripping me.

"Is something the matter?" He gave me a concerned look, doubtless wondering what this grip of mine meant, perhaps hoping for it to mean more than what it was: a sudden yearning for human contact induced by panic and fear.

"I'm worried," I mumbled.

Graveler had been difficult to let go, and it was better for the both of us that I did so- but it had only been possible because she had meant so little to me. Amphy? Ampharos? It would be impossible. I would rather die than let him go. My whole life, my whole heart, was devoted to this one adorable, needy, affectionate, gentle, modest jerk.

Which made the thought of losing his affection terrifying.

"Amphy? Is it true? Do you feel trapped here?"

"Nnn."

"Ampharos… Amphy, is it?" Volkner realized the moniker as he addressed the Pokémon directly. "I can relate. Doing the same thing, over, and over, with no end in sight; it's nauseating. You feel like the world could end and you wouldn't care because you've got no satisfaction in what you're doing and no hope the future will be any different."

Amphy didn't answer verbally, but he did pick his head up to stare at Volkner eye-to-eye. I myself was staring at Volkner from the side. It definitely feels like he's revealing a little about himself here.

"You've been giving Jasmine a little trouble, lately. Do you hate her?"

Amphy shook his head, in the negative. I breathed a deep sigh of relief. Our bond wasn't severed; I wasn't the problem. However, I wasn't the solution, either, apparently.

"What do you need to be happy again?" I asked.

"Amph." The Pokémon huffed, and went back to napping.

Volkner turned towards me. He caught my eye, and I felt a certain sadness, like self-pity, but only the faintest hint of it, before it passed away.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

He turned and went out of the room. I followed, to find himself seated on one of the benches. He took the goggles off and tossed them beside him. I mimicked his gesture, but slower, more daintily, in the manner of the woman I was expected to be. We sat, side-by-side, for several minutes while he collected his nerves.

"I know you wanted this to be professional," he stated. I bit my lip. "But, that's impossible, isn't it?" My bite got harder, drawing pain. "I hope you're aware of what's going on here," he said.

"I'm not sure what you mean," I responded.

"Morty set this up. It's one of his games. He's using me to get to you."

"Not a surprise." Truly, it wasn't. I had not thought of this scenario, but it seemed very much in the realm of possibility. I accepted the truth of it immediately. "The only thing I care about is, why? What is he after?" I asked.

"I don't quite know… Only that, he's been trying to get at your emotions. Besides his hobbies, it's almost all he talks about now… he wonders what other people around him are thinking, how they feel, what their lives are like, what's troubling them. Like he wants to fix their problems, and he can only do that if he manages to understand them- get to know them on a deep, personal level. And mostly, he's talking about you. More than anyone else, he focuses on you when he gets into these weird philosophical, psychological musings."

I nodded.

"You realize he has feelings for me."

Volkner turned to look at me, head taken aback.

"That surprises you?" I said, a little surprised myself.

"No, and yes. It was obvious he liked you."

"Oh?"

"I just didn't think it in him to confess. Or did you figure that out on your own?"

"I had to browbeat it out of him," I said truthfully.

"Ah. Well, that's realistic. He has trouble being straight with his feelings, doesn't he?"

"Hehehe, yeah," I said, and giggled.

"Can I ask you something?" he said suddenly.

"Whenever someone asks that, aren't they really just preparing their listener for an uncomfortable question? What if I said no?"

Volkner smiled faintly. "That's what I liked about you. You're witty."

I looked away. Compliments are embarrassing.

"What was your question?"

"Would it be too awkward if I could just talk to you, about us?"

"Huh?" Uh oh.

"I mean," he backpedaled rapidly, "I don't mean to put you in an awkward position again. I'm not asking you out or anything, like last time."

"So you just want to… talk… about… me rejecting you."

He indicated yes.

This could either be incredibly soulful, or incredibly disastrous. Volkner being the kind of man to bottle his emotions up, however, it might cause more emotional damage to not let him talk it out. So I nodded and let him continue.

"First, I just want to say I'm sorry for putting that over you. I should've picked up on it sooner."

"Don't apologize," I warned.

"You say that, but you don't have any idea. It wasn't really about you. It was me."

He settled down, and began speaking, slowly, deliberately, in length.

"I felt stuck in my gym for the longest time. There was no one who could really give me a challenge. Pokémon battles became tedious, wretched, uninteresting. I got sick of them. I basically had to let subpar trainers win just to ensure the Sinnoh League had anyone at all to participate in their tournaments. There were days I just left a barrel of Beacon Badges out front for anyone who wanted them. Sunnyshore is peaceful, too damn peaceful, forgive my language. There was nothing in the whole town that was interesting. People were calling me emo, a loser, a creep, I was in such a funk. Even teching up the town was growing boring. I had just about had it."

"What happened?"

"I got a visit from my bro. Flint. He convinced me to get out of town. He took over the gym for a while, let me go out, see the world, find something new. That's when I met Morty. Morty… he's a character. Gets under you skin."

I nodded in agreement.

"He knows how to get out there and experience life, and he's willing to share. I guess that's how we became friends. He makes it easy to find new things to enjoy in life."

"Careful, you're starting to venture on boy-love territory," I cautioned.

"Only girls mistake bro-mances for erotica."

"Oh?" I inquired.

"Is your gender capable of understanding relationships not based on sex or romance?"

"No, we're not," I answered, thinking back to the excitable gossip my girl friends always engaged in. In relation to men's relationships, "Platonic" was a foreign word to them.

"Hanging with Morty was fun, seeing new regions was fun, but I wasn't clearing out my head like I wanted. There was always something nagging me. Always this little voice saying 'It's just a vacation'. In the end, I knew I would have to go back to Sunnyshore and I'd be right where I started. Morty, that bastard, got it into my head what I was missing was someone special. Like, if I only had a significant other, all the world's problems would dissolve."

I tilted my head.

"You mean sex?"

"No! No. Not sex, or at least, not just sex. Someone to spend not just one night with, but a lifetime with."

"Morty said this?"

"Insinuated," Volkner corrected. "You know him."

"Yeah," I agreed, "he has a way with words."

"So, I got to feeling that this was it. My solution. It was only a matter of time before someone caught my eye, and I got trapped by infatuation. It just happened to be you."

"Me."

"Yeah. Like I said, I'm really sorry. I acted on my feelings and got burned. It was my fault. I should have listened to logic first, wiener second."

I snorted. It's true. No matter how pure their feelings, men will always hold some sentiment of lust in their affection. Which… wasn't always a bad thing. If it was controlled, if it didn't dominate their actions towards the object of their affection, it would be fine.

 But thinking it over, Volkner's off-handed confession put that assumption into a new light. I had, heretofore, assumed that lust drove men only to blatant acts of depravity, like rape, or crude come-ons, or being pushy towards sex. Volkner revealed it can be more subtle; it can make men chase women they otherwise knew they had no hope of dating. The fact that Volkner had been able to court with me so innocently masked the motivation for his flirtations.

They say us women are incorrigible. We are. Men never receive the same credit for the complexity of their emotions. Just because the output was so simple, though, didn't mean the underlying motivations weren't. Men get caught in that tangle of lustful and emotional attraction, just the same as we women.

Volkner… you say so little, but your words have been enlightening. I'm shocked. I'm feeling humbled.

"I'm starting to feel like Morty was wrong. A relationship isn't what I need. I shouldn't be expecting a relationship to fix my problems. A relationship is more like the reward for fixing my problems. That's how I feel."

"I see. So…" I'm afraid to ask this to his face. What reaction would I get? Hopefully benign. "Do you still like me?"

"Hmm? A little. It's not easy letting go."

"No, it isn't. I'm just worried that you'd be jealous towards Morty. Since, you know, he's coming on to me."

"Jealous? Yeah, I am jealous of him. But not for winning you."

"For what, then?"

"His character. The way he seems like he could have anyone he wants. Anything he wants. He has the perfect personality to succeed in life. It's only natural that he would win you over me."

"Let me make this clear, he hasn't won me over," I interjected. "And I didn't choose him over you. I didn't expect him to re-enter my life when I rejected you. That was just me and my personality."

I grabbed his shoulder, and squeezed.

"I'm just worried. I feel guilty for dragging you out here. I didn't want you helping me just because you had feelings for me."

Volkner leaned back, eyes closed. I could sense now what Morty had said about the two of them being similar. They both were so timid with their true feelings, and yet beneath the timidness they were so gentle and so deep in their emotional capacity. The differences were superficial; Morty had developed a blasphemous attitude to hide his emotions; Volkner, on the other hand, had not. He bunkered down and coped with his emotional insecurity. No lying, no manipulation, no fake personalities. Even if it got him labeled as a touchy-feely, spineless man, he was going to be honest with his feelings. I sort of respected that.

Honesty and meekness. One trait I valued in the opposite sex, one I found very unattractive. What should I think when one reveals the other? Was it asking too much to have a man that was both honest and emotionally secure?

Was the reason I rejected relationships because I-

I suddenly scooted away from Volkner, eyes wide.

"I'm not going there," I declared.

Volkner started, looking at me and wondering what I had meant by freaking out out of the blue.

I calmed down a second.

"What?" he asked.

"…"

I could not tell him. His words had put me in a vulnerable state of mind, where I might pry too far into my self-conscious and discover things I had buried too long ago, too deep in the murk of guilt and shame, to allow out at this juncture. Better to unearth those feelings in private. Best to never unearth them at all. It's shameful to say, but even while I demand openness from others I could not open myself to anyone.

The world is absurd, and I am prideful and self-centered. These sins I will readily admit.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"I'll be okay."

"You sure?"

"It's just me being a girl. You know the deal."

"All too well."

"How about you? Generally speaking."

"I'll be okay too. Morty did well enough. Getting out into the world was a good idea. It helped break up the tedium. I wanted to say, if Amphy is in the same situation as me, it'd be good for him to get out. Meet people. Battle. Play. He's not meant to be a recluse."

Volkner pulled out a pokeball.

"Don't think of this as an attempt to win your affection," he said, and placed the pokeball in my lap.

"What is this, then?

"This is me feeling sorry for Amphy. It's Lanturn. You take Amphy outside, give him a vacation. Lanturn can fill in for a night or two. Keep him while I scout the town for that replacement part. Which, by the way, I'm doing to repay my debt to Morty, not to win your affection, just to be clear."

I let out a lone laugh.

"I will not misinterpret your actions," I promised with an overly officious tone.

We re-donned the goggles and went inside the hot focal chamber. Tyko had never come out, and even though he was clearly suffering from the heat, Skarmory had not left the little runt's side.

"Lanturn."

Lanturn appeared, eyes squinting but not as overly taxed by the luminescence as us humans.

"Lanturn, could you substitute for Ampharos?" Volkner asked his Pokémon.

"Lan lan!" The angler fish nodded, used Magnet Rise to levitate itself into place, and shivered. A moment later, its bulb lit up, nearly rivaling Ampharos' in brilliance. Ampharos, still napping, yelped and leapt off the dais in shock. I caught him before he hit the floor.

"Amphy, you're taking a break. We're going to the park tomorrow."

"Amphoo?"

"Yes. No more being cooped up in here every single night. I'll talk to the mayor, see if we can find a better solution than keeping you prisoner here."

"Amph," my Pokémon replied. It's not that he sounds overjoyed by that prospect, but his voice had a hint of hope in it. Even the smallest trace of optimism from him was an improvement, and the notion made me smile and filled me up with good vibes.

"Amphaphampha ampharoo. Arooo! Ampharrararooo?" Aooou?" He began torrenting excitable questions and concerns at me. What couldn't be conveyed by Poke-speech alone he mimed, or skittered around the room to indicate objects. The first object he singled out was a surprise.

"Your pokeball?"

It was a Great Ball, actually, blue, red, and white, the top half covered in dust. Amphy so rarely left the lighthouse, I couldn't remember the last time he had actually been kept inside the device.

"Do you want to ride in the pokeball or walk?" I asked.

Amphy looked to me and then to the pokeball, thinking over the options. He tail-whipped the ball into the corner, indicating his desire to walk.

"Alright then." I gathered up supplies and his bedding. "Hold Piplup for me, will you?" Amphy looked, not without a little consternation, at the little blue bathtoy. Tyko squeaked with joy and flung herself into Amphy's belly. The larger Pokémon held her, unsure of how to treat the situation.

"Amph."

"Come on, you're sleeping over at my place tonight."

We made our way down the staircase, out into the gloomy night. Volkner dashed to catch up with us, after having said farewell to Lanturn. From here, the ray of light looked no less bright and far-reaching than Amphy's, making me feel confident Lanturn wouldn't cause a ship-wreck.

"Well," Volkner said.

"Thank you. For helping me with the generator. For Lanturn," I said, nodding towards the beacon. "And mostly, for being open about your feelings. That's something I have a hard time with, so I respect people who can."

Volkner turned away.

Yes, I know it's hard, Volksy. To have the woman you still have lingering feelings for praise you and thank you, yet with no intention of loving you, must be murderous. Too bad. I'm about to incite your misplaced affections even more.

I hugged him, innocently.

"This is not to show affection," I told him, mischievously. "This is to show gratitude."

"I know. To tell you the truth, I was never so in love that I put you up on a pedestal. In my mind, you were always 'that shrewish little runt'."

"Hehehe. Criticism accepted."

He began walking off around the side of the lighthouse. A car was parked over on the far side. As he climbed in, he waved goodbye and shouted over, "I'll call tomorrow afternoon."

"You have my cellphone?"

"Yeah, Morty gave it to me."

Bastard. That's not for him to share. Too late now.

"Alright! Goodbye!"

I gathered my flock of Pokémon around me and began trundling off into the streets of Olivine. Skarmory led the way. Amphy walked beside me, holding my hand. Tyko chased Amphy's tail-bulb and in that way was kept on an invisible leash. I felt happy, the relieved kind of happy. My family surrounded me. This night was confusing, but I had the sense it was not a constricting kind of confusion. More liberating. I had been given a lot to think about, and I looked forward to figuring it out.

Maybe I was in that same funk. Maybe I had been concentrating too much on my worries, and what I needed was a change of pace, an escape, the chance to do something different.

…Nah. I loved my city too much. I wasn't going to abandon it. I'll have to find a different solution. I'm the Ironclad Gym Leader of Olivine City, after all, 'perseverance' was my catchphrase.

Still, that man…

I'm at odds with myself, thinking of him. What he said about himself was illuminating, both for himself and for the whole male gender. What he said about Morty was even more question-raising. What was Morty getting at, trying to "understand" me? Trying to "fix" me? It sounded like Morty's feelings for me weren't some simple crush, but something deeper, more cerebral. What was it? What exactly was I to Morty?

And what about Volkner? What will I do with him? Could we be just friends? That's a novel idea. Would his feelings fade away and let us have a normal friendship, or would they always be there, coloring his behavior towards me? How exactly did I feel towards him? That answer seems muddled.

The streets passed by, one-by-one, marking our passage homeward. The cool air dug into my thin frame, chilling me. I'm trying to remember why I rejected Volkner in the first place, and yet, there was no concrete answer. Maybe there never was.

Chapter Text

Erika returned overnight. Early the next morning I was summoned to her rental home for breakfast. Throughout our telephone conversation she kept dropping mysterious hints as to some surprise that would directly affect me. Not liking the sound of that, I collected six of my Pokémon together and headed out at 6:30 A.M.

An early morning mist clung to the streets, making it seem like Steelix was wading through the River Styx. Amphy rode beside me.

"How're you feeling?" I asked my Pokémon.

"Mmm." An unenthusiastic reply.

I reached around and hugged him to my side. "It'll be alright," I said, trying to comfort him. His gaze never left the flat, featureless section of Steelix's hide directly before him.

At Erika's, a single doorbell ring was all that was needed… as if she was waiting for me. I crept inside, peering left, right, and upwards for good measure. Nothing seemed amiss, even as Erika lead me down the hallway with a psychotic smile.

"GUESS WHO!"

"GAHHH! I'm blind! I'm blind!" My hands shot to my eyes, where they found another pair of hands covering my vision. I tried wrestling them off, but couldn't without exerting more energy than the morning hour allowed me to muster.

"Get off! Who are you?!"

"Guess!"

"Lyra!"

The stranger's hands fell to my shoulders and spun me around, bringing me face-to-face with my friend.

"Lyra!"

"Jasmine!"

We jumped into each other's arms.

"How'd you… you snuck around the front lawn, didn't you?"

"Ahahaha! It was worth it!"

I soon found myself being pooch-piled by Erika and several other creatures, mostly grass Pokémon.

"Ethan's here too," Lyra explained gleefully, as her boyfriend trotted into view. Behind him rose the tall, fatherly figure of Typhlosion.

"So this is my surprise?" I asked of Erika. Her creepy smile finally broke into a soft, genuine grin.

"I caught a pair of stowaways on my way home."

"Ha ha! We'll explain later. Ethan, grab the picnic stuff." Ethan, seemingly reluctantly, trotted down the hall. Erika started laughing. She spun around, flaunting her autumn-print kimono and continued belting out HAHAHA!'s until she too disappeared down the hallway.

"What's so funny? What is this about?"

"We've been busy," Lyra hinted.

The vanished pair returned, bearing between them a… cake. In the frosting was written "Probation Picnic Party!".

"Vanilla cake for the vanilla girl!" Lyra exclaimed.

"Oh shut up."

"I got a phone call from our mutual acquaintance on the way home last night, informing us of your recent parting with Graveler. We thought you might need a pick-me-up, so we planned a party, cake included," explained Erika.

"How did you…" I began, wondering how they knew about my planned park outing for today. I shook my head, figuring it wasn't worth it to nitpick. I do way too much of that, I should just appreciate this kindness. "Let's have a picnic party!" I said with (somewhat forced) cheer.

"So, um, where to?" Erika asked. Apparently she still hasn't gotten the layout of Olivine City, and the Blackthorn excursion had not helped.

"Crescent Bay Park."

We set off, Pokémon in tow. Ethan, his Azumarill, and Lyra's Typhlosion carried most of our considerable party gear. The park was not too far from Erika's house if we took shortcuts, but unfortunately that meant a lot of back alleys and footpaths, so that Steelix couldn't be used as our personal shuttle bus. He went back into the pokeball obediently.

"So-" I wanted to ask a lot of things, but by the time I could formulate questions that wouldn't come off as critical or harsh, I was already on the receiving end of Erika and Lyra's verbal assault.

"Are you doing okay? Are you missing Graveler? I heard you traded her for another Pokémon, a Piplup."

"I call her Tyko." I let out Tyko, who was immediately taken into Erika's arms and coddled. Tyko, in turn, was thrilled to be the center of love and attention.

"You need to evolve already! I need you for battles! You can't be a little attention magnet your whole life!" I half-mockingly scolded the Piplup.

"No, dear no! We should surgically implant an everstone into you, little one." Erika nuzzled the Pokémon cheek-to-cheek. Then it was off to Lyra's embrace and then using her poofy hat as a pillow-chair.

"How is the gym? Are you improving your win ratio? I hope the workload isn't too much. Will you be fine?" Erika asked in rapid succession.

"Yes, yes, yes to everything," I said, flustered.

"How are you and-"

"Hey! Let me ask something already!"

"Hmm? I'm sorry. It's just the morning."

"I know, I know."

Erika, the very picture of formality and geniality, has one weakness. She is the opposite of me in regards to the morning period- for about an hour after waking, she can be quite hyper and explosively jubilant. The effect is most noticeable when she hasn't gotten any tea into her system. I presumed that was the case right now.

"Why were you in Blackthorn so long?" She had spent ten days there, longer than she first promised.

"Ah! Oh, well about that, Violet was such wonderful company, and the festival was much more engaging than we expected. We had a wonderful time of it! And Clair only reopened her gym yesterday. Violet wanted my advice to help defeat her. I'll have to fill you in on the details later."

"Did Violet beat her?" I inquired.

"Oh, yes, eventually. It took nine matches."

NINE!

"Did you know Clair hadn't been defeated in almost two years before Red came?" I asked.

"Hmm? Oh, yes, I did. Apparently her assistant Paulo had been running Pokémon Challenges as an alternate means of attaining the Rising Badge. Don't tell Clair this, but when trainers figured out the Challenge was easier than beating her, most didn't even bother to fight her. That may be how she kept her streak going so long." Erika whispered this last sentence while leaning forward, as if conveying some conspiratorial message.

"Interesting."

"Not to say she isn't a splendid Gym Leader. I don't believe Violet would have defeated her at all if she, Clair, had been at the top of her game. We were wise not to use the doppelganger strategy right off the bat, but saved it for the eighth try. It didn't work so well, though, Clair overpowered it. The next match, however, she over-predicted the doppelgangers and Violet managed to take advantage of it."

"I see. It was a good idea though- it might have worked even better than it did on me if I had accustomed myself to one each of the Brelooms' and Venusaurs' individual strengths first."

"Jasmine, I don't think Violet could have won once out of a thousand battles against you that day, with Skarmory being who he is."

"A stubborn, impossibly-tankish damage-sponge?"

"Yes. He was quite the catch, for a Pokémon."

"Why thank you. Skarmory has improved too, now he understands basic attack commands. I think I have a handle on his movepool as well."

Discussing Pokémon tactics was perhaps my all-time favorite topic of conversation. In that way we easily occupied our minds during the ten-minute trek to Crescent Bay Park. Meanwhile, Lyra and Ethan soon had their hands full trying to keep Tyko from running off.

"So, Lyra," I called back to her, just as she and Ethan appeared behind us again. They each held one of Tyko's feet in their hands, carrying her upside down between them. "Why'd you decide to come here to Olivine?"

"Well, no real reason for coming here, specifically. We just thought we'd like to hang out with you guys some more," she answered.

"Oh? Okay, that's nice."

"Well…" she started.

 I looked back at her, eyebrow raised inquisitively.

"The more pertinent question is why we are not in Mahogany Town, I think," she said.

"Hmm? Yeah, I thought you were tracking Silver and Red."

"That's just the thing. Actually, this is the other surprise we wanted to share."

We arrived at the first ledge overlooking Crescent Bay at that moment. The view was obscured by one last line of trees and a fence. I stopped and turned to Lyra, head tilted, wondering.

"What happened with Red?"

"We lost him."

"Huh?"

Lyra sighed, looking none too pleased about the ordeal.

"Like, he completely gave us the slip. We got word he was heading towards Mahogany and went after him on foot. Got a day in before we realized we had been duped and had to turn around. My legs still hurt from all the hiking, and all for nothing. I think we were fed false info by Silver so he could chase Red alone. Smart bastard," Lyra said, stifling a giggle.

"So if Red wasn't on his way to Mahogany, where was he going?"

"South, down Route 45. He's heading for Violet City, I think. Either going to detour through Cherrygrove, or take Dark Cave or Vishna Pass to go directly to Violet. Either way, that's where your good news comes in."

"He's going after Falkner," I muttered.

"Yep. And on foot. Which means, you might have a month, maybe two, before he reaches Olivine. Nice long cushion for you to train."

"Eh? You think I could beat him with a hundred years' worth of training? You're delusional."

"Don't be so pessimistic!" Lyra told me.

"She's right," Ethan added in.

"I'm not being pessimistic! I'm an optimist! I'm optimistic that Red's detour will postpone his inevitable victory over me until after my probation ends."

"That's being optimistic? Your world must be very bleak." Lyra took her hat and put it over her heart, while shaking her head in disappointment. The gesture amused me. "Anyways, me and Ethan are just going to camp here until Red arrives. Silver shouldn't be too far behind."

"I don't get why you think you need training from Silver," Ethan interjected. "You already beat him outright."

"That was the Johto tournament. You heard what he thought about 'official' battles. I don't think he had his heart in it," Lyra answered. Ethan sighed and shook his head.

"Come come, don't dawdle you three."

Erika returned to circle to our backsides and physically nudge us towards the park. Down a short flight of steps and past the fence and tree line, and we arrived at the main cliff overlooking Crescent Bay.

"Pretty, isn't it?" I remarked. The other three nodded. You don't get sights like this anywhere else in Johto.

Crescent Bay cut into the land in a long, four-mile wide semi-circle. The far eastern end of the shore kept going, right on out into the ocean, forming a stubby peninsula. It rose into a short hill, upon which Glitter Lighthouse was perched. Westwards, an inlet cut into the shoreline where the Bronze Sand River emptied into the bay. Crescent Bay Bridge spanned the gap, hanging a hundred feet over the inlet. Directly in front of us there was nothing but water; clear, aqua-tinted water, all the way out into the horizon. If one squinted, you could make out some dark blotches where the ocean meets the sky. That would be Whirl Islands. Today, the water was relatively calm. The morning mist had yet to lift completely, but from our elevation we managed to surmount the fog. The sun hovered near the lighthouse's peak to our left.

We descended the steps, myself two or three at a time, down into the park. The park itself was terraced into the hillside, creating multiple tiers of flat grass lawns, each overlooking the other. Near the bottom were gazebos and bathhouses, for couples and swimmers, respectively. A row of benches and recliners lined the edge of the beachfront. I could pick out the one I had wept on after the gala. Now, like then, the park was virtually empty. We were alone in the park except for a few exercise fanatics jogging up and down the steps and one brave soul venturing out into the cold salt water.

I alighted on the middle-most tier, stopped, and breathed in the air. It was damp, but refreshing. Far better than the stagnant rank that filled up my apartment. To be honest, it felt good, really good, to get out and visit some place that wasn't my gym, my apartment, the Pokecenter, or the light house. In one way or another, every one of those places represented a stress in my life. For a day, at least, I won't allow myself to worry about probation or boys or bills…

"If only Morty were here," Erika lamented.

…unless one of my friends force the topic onto me. Bleh.

"He would spend the time teasing me," I insisted.

"Courting you," Erika corrected.

"Distracting me from relaxing," I counter-corrected.

I took in another deep breath.

The early morning passed into the later morning. Lyra and Ethan claimed our little piece of turf and set up the base. I showed Erika the flower garden Mrs. Leo was cultivating. Then we all played a round of frisbee golf. Afterwards, my six Pokémon were released and allowed to play on their own. Erika and I snuggled into the picnic blanket to observe them.

"Shouldn't Ampharos be sleeping?" my friend remarked. The Pokémon was currently sitting on a ledge, watching the others play keep-away. His head bobbed back and forth, trying to keep tabs on Choir, who was being used as the ball. Otherwise, he showed no indication he wanted to join in.

"Volkner lent me his Lanturn so Amphy could have a day out."

"Volkner? What is he doing here?"

"Oh… About that…" I told her in detail about the broken generator and how Morty had arranged Volkner to come fix it, and then how we had attempted to diagnose the Light Pokémon's depression. I left out the more in-depth conversation we had concerning Morty, affections, moods, and the ilk. Erika waited patiently for me to finish, however, it was subtly noticeable that she wasn't concerned with neither my technical difficulties nor Amphy's mental state.

"But didn't you and Volkner have a thing before the summit? You never told me much about it," she finally blabbed, as if itching to steer the conversation towards her own ends.

"It wasn't a 'thing'. He developed a one-sided crush and I had to put it down. It hurt his feelings. Unfortunately, he's friends with Morty so I can't just forget he exists, like all the other boys."

"Why did you reject him? Is he too ugly?"

"Are you really going to bug me about this, again?"

"Answer the question, little girl."

"Little girl? Stop teasing me!"

"Hahaha! But please, answer that for me."

"Why do I need to answer it? What are you trying to learn by asking something like that?"

Erika rocked her head side-to-side for a moment, as if thinking up the right words to say.

"Let me share a small worry of mine. Your only friends are me, Whitney, and Lyra."

"And my Pokémon."

"Your only human friends. Now, what do us three have in common?"

"That's too open-ended. You have a lot in common-"

"None of us have a permanent residence in Olivine," she declared.

She ought to warn me when her questions are going to be rhetorical.

"What does that mean?"

"Meaning, I'm worried about you being alone. You aren't naturally a shut-in; circumstances have merely forced you into becoming one. So I wish you had someone close, someone you could trust, living nearby."

"I have my parents," I said.

"Would you feel comfortable telling them anything and everything? Your secrets, your worries, your feelings?"

I fell silent at the suggestion.

Everything? No! I couldn't tell Mother a third of what goes through my head. I can't even stomach the shame of even hinting at my deeper secrets to you, Erika, let alone telling that judgmental, hard-nosed woman about my personal life. Father? While I do feel like I could be more open to him, I don't want to. He wouldn't judge me, but he's not exactly helpful either.

"No, I wouldn't trust them even with the material I tell you, let alone the stuff I don't tell you." As soon as I said this I knew it sounded like bait. Erika beamed, giving me a mutually understood glance.

Oh, you have things you hide from me? Do tell!

But in reality, she didn't bite.

"So, there's no one in the world you would trust those things with? And don't say Ampharos. Ampharos is good for unburdening on, but he can't fully understand what you're going through; he can't respond like a human does."

"But it works-"

"Is that truly all you need? A semi-sentient Pokémon to hear you out?"

"Nnn…"

Erika can read me like a book, and play me like a fiddle. How does she do it?

Of course I can't take solace in airing out my worries to Amphy! It feels numb, devoid of meaning; like confessing to a slab of wood. How can I take any comfort in confessing to a Pokémon who is entirely reliant upon me for his care? I can't trust that his nudges and coos and assuaging gestures aren't born out of that paternal bond we share. Unloading your feelings onto someone is therapeutic because they are capable of understanding what you are sharing, and are capable of criticizing you for it- but they don't. That all-important choice not to judge is critical, because it lets you know you'll be alright, that you don't need to feel guilty or ashamed.

Besides, Amphy having his own indecipherable funk precluded any thought of using him as an emotional consolation at the moment.

"You're suggesting I need a friend in Olivine to keep me company so I don't go insane."

"Correct."

"I disagree. Sure, Amphy's just a placebo, but so what? The alternatives aren't any less of a charade. I can't stomach this medicine you're selling me. Who am I supposed to trust like that?"

"A significant other," Erika answered.

So that's her game.

"Wait, so are you trying to help Morty's bet come true? You want me to fuck someone?"

"NO! No. Not sex, Jasmine. Merely, I think you need the intimacy that sex implies. Sexual relations are optional."

"Since when does sex imply intimacy? That doesn't seem to be the case from what I've seen of the world."

"Set that aside for now. In fact, come visit me tonight at my house. We can have "The Talk"."

"I don't know…"

"Just leave it aside and come tonight. The important thing for right now is the emotional bond that can only be found in a romantic relationship. I think you need that. I dare say you desire that. I believe Morty saw that need and that was what he was actually doing in making that ill-advised boast."

"Morty just wants to be my boyfriend."

"Don't try reducing Morty to such a simple stereotype. What he selfishly wants for himself does not exclude what he altruistically wants for others. In his view, having the two desires align is good for the soul."

I sighed.

 "I just wanted to relax today."

"Little miss, you are thoroughly incapable of relaxing with all the burdens you are under."

"I can relax, if people would just stop irking me!" I angrily responded.

"Oh? What did you do last night?" She asks this like she already knows the answer.

"I relaxed," I said, trying to sound convincing.

"And what did that entail?" she asked.

"I… I played SimKingdom till two o'clock. Magneton and Amphy watched me. Relaxing, okay?"

"Hahaha!" Another peal of laughter told me she didn't believe me. "Jasmine, I know for a fact you play computer games when you are stressed."

"I…" I couldn't argue. The best I could do was throw a comeback at her. "At least my stress-relief doesn't make me fat." Erika, like most women, preferred ice-cream and chocolate for her stress-relief.

"Touché."

She grinned, and continued.

"But you see my point. You've been unhappy for a while now. Coming back to Volkner, I'm just incredibly curious as to why you rejected him."

"Why?! Why is that so important?" I whined.

"Because, it is."

"He's a guy! That's all the reason I need!"

Erika heard my answer and leaned back, sinking into contemplation. I was confused, because that wasn't an answer I expected her to take seriously. My mind raced through the possibilities, and my mouth, without much conscience thought, began running off the resulting thoughts.

"You think I need a relationship so badly. I don't know. I don't want one. It's really troublesome, and you're right, I am stressed. But don't you think adding a relationship on top of probation would be even more stressful? You seem to think a boyfriend would comfort me, and to that end, you're trying to figure out how to set me up. You ask about Volkner because you think there's a hint in there as to my romantic weakness, something you can exploit. Perhaps, you're even trying to hook me up with Morty. Hey…"

I turned towards her, scowling.

"Are you just trying to hook me up with Morty?"

"No," she answered simply.

"Yes you are! You've been shipping us, haven't you? Haven't you!"

"Teehehe! 'Shipping'? You're such a nerd, Jasmine."

"Don't make fun of me!"

"In all seriousness, I don't mean to try to push you onto one man or another. I just want to understand the root cause of your misery and help you address it."

"My misery is caused by the incessant demands of this society upon my feelings and my virginity! Why can't anyone understand that?!" I spat this out, rolled onto my knees and then flopped onto my back, arms held outward, hands balled into fists. Something of a whine/roar hybrid escaped my throat.

"I don't believe that," Erika said.

"Why not? What makes you, and Morty, and Mother, and Lyra, and Whitney, and everyone else think I'm love-sick?"

"Not love-sick. You certainly aren't aching for a relationship. But you are depressed and isolated and lonely, and we all believe a relationship would be the best way to cure you of that."

"Argh! I ask again, why do you all think that?!"

"Because…" Erika hesitated. I lifted myself up on one elbow to glare at her. Give me an answer, damn it!

"You weren't always this way."

I waited for her to explain, but she didn't. She stood up, and began drifting towards the ledge.

Does she not want to answer?

"What way did I change?" I called after her. She remained silent still. Is she afraid of hurting my feelings? That would be off, considering how she's been yanking them this way and that over the course of this conversation. If that wasn't it, was she hiding something of interest to herself? To someone else? No, that's extremely unlike her. It had to be because the subject was too touchy for her.

Yet, in the years I've known Erika, I couldn't think of anything that could possibly be construed as me "changing". Not in any way related to my romantic interests (or lack thereof), or my mental state, or my attitude towards life. Was she talking about a major event? Couldn't be. Could it?

Could she be talking about the Indigo debacle? She ought to know Indigo didn't "change" me. Quite the opposite, it affirmed every negative view I had of mankind, the universe, and most especially, of that boy Morty. It wasn't a turning point, merely a final straw on top of an already-overburdened pile of straws that set me against the opposite gender.

The only other major personality change I could think of was when I was fifteen- before I met Erika, so obviously not what she's talking about- and the Gym Leader Summit.

"Hey. Are you talking about the summit? Do you think I've changed who I am since then?" Erika shook her head but continued to say nothing. "I know I've been unhappy since the summit, but that's probation for you. Nothing a good 50% win ratio won't fix." I trotted up beside her.

"It's not that," she said. "Although, I'm sure you would be happier- we would ALL be happier- if you managed to graduate from probation."

"Sure."

I should drop it. Even if I got the true meaning of her words out of her, it would just spark another round of touchy-feely crap, and I was getting sick of it.

My Pokémon were  joking around in a disorganized mob, intermingled with Lyra's, Ethan's, and Erika's Pokémon. Erika's gaze was fixated on the medley. My attention was caught by the little tower of yellow sitting apart from it.

Amphy hadn't joined them at any point. Even when the others beckoned, he refused or ignored them. Even now, Aipom somersaulted into Amphy's personal space, trying to use surprise to draw the Pokémon into reacting. Amphy jumped in fright, pelting the monkey with a strong Flash (it put a sunspot in my vision, it was so bright!) and scampered away. Ambipom recovered, and, with his comrades, looked on dolefully at the loner.

Volkner had been wrong. Amphy didn't want to get out. He doesn't like company and he doesn't want to play with other Pokémon. What is his problem? Is he just ill? Do we need anti-depressant drugs for him?

Erika glanced towards me and saw the concern in my face. She probably mistook it for worry over our conversation:

"I'm sorry," she said. "I put a lot on you today."

"It's only because you care," I responded. "But, don't worry about my feelings right now. I just want to focus everything on getting out of probation. Until then… I don't want to think about it."

"Will you come to my house for the Talk, then?"

She emphasized the word 'Talk'. I know what she means by it. Our private, late-night discussion about what I really think about sex.

"I'm not ready to talk about that, yet. Another time."

"Mmkay."

We watched Tyko practice her BubbleBeam attack while pretending to be a tank-turret. Her "tank", of course, was Steelix, rumbling around the premises. Magneton and Magnemite also rode atop Steelix, further down his abdomen. They acted like anti-air missile batteries, sending light Flash Canons and Discharges into the air. The other Pokémon swarmed over the terrain, attacking the mobile fortress and retreating as they came under fire.

"Say, I had an idea," Erika said suddenly.

"Hmm?"

She turned towards me.

"Would you like to battle?"

 "Don't hold back just because I'm your friend!" Erika shouted.

My jaw slacked a little, staring at my friend in disbelief.

"Steelix!"

Steelix crashed down upon the sand, sending waves rippling across the battlefield. Victreebel, having barely dodged the blow itself, was caught up in the sand surge. It found itself half-buried and unable to move. Steelix towered over the hapless Pokémon.

"Reflect!" Erika ordered.

"Dragon Breath," I ordered. Erika's eyes popped wide open, hand held to mouth.

A multi-colored glow filled Steelix's maw, churning into a violent, raging nova. Steelix roared, sending the primal energy into Victreebel's position. The Reflect dissipated, useless. The Grass Pokémon appeared from beneath the smoke, surrounded by glassed sand and bits of smoldering plant matter. It struggled to break free and fight back, but could not break through the silicon prison. Steelix sent another Dragon Breath blasting down upon it, finishing the Pokémon off for good.

Erika recalled her Pokémon.

"You're down by three Pokémon and you think I've been holding back?!" I cried out to her across the battlefield.

"Well… I knew Steelix was good, but I didn't think he was this good, Jasmine. Dear, you're embarrassing me."

"Stop being facetious. It's not like you," I told her.

"My apologies," she said, giving me a curt bow. "I must admit, I underestimated Steelix by a tad bit. But, well, I'll explain in a bit. Tangrowth!"

Victreebel had been Steelix's third victim in a row. My Pokémon was heaving due to the accumulated damage from numerous Grass-type attacks. Despite the beating, he had stood his ground and retaliated, giving better than he got each time. Victreebel's efforts to defend itself via Reflect had been thwarted by a surprise special-type Dragon Breath assault- in truth, the only special attack Steelix knew. Before that, Vileplume had underestimated its own Earthquake vulnerability, and Jumpluff its own Rock Throw weakness. All three had assumed they could pick on Steelix's neutrality towards Grass attacks and low special defenses. They were wrong. Now Steelix faced down his fourth opponent, and was probably not going to be able to take another attack.

Tangrowth waddled onto the field, rippling vines fully encasing its gregarious body.

Don't tell Erika, but I think these things are super-creepy. They look like piles of snakes, and I'm aware of their reputation in the more, um, "questionable" pornography projects. My mind reels at the mere thought of such works; thankfully I've never seen them for myself, or else I might force bleach into my eyes.

"Tantantan!"

Erika ordered a Power Whip. I wanted to try Fissure, a long-shot, but basically the only thing Steelix could do to the bulky seaweed-gorgon. Sadly, he never got the chance. Vines, thick as Erika's thighs, pounded Steelix into submission. True to my predictions, Steelix groaned his last gasp of vitality and fainted.

"Return, Steelix."

I contemplated my options.

"Oh dear, what ever will you do now that Steelix is gone?" Erika mocked.

"Oh shut up!"

We were battling on an abandoned beach-volleyball court, the netting torn down and tossed aside. The sand was not as conducive for Ground-type attacks as hard clay. Steelix had not been able to Earthquake or perform subterranean maneuvers as well as I had wanted. If not for that, I might have been able to milk another KO or two out of him. Nonetheless, he had given me a 5-3 advantage and I didn't intend to waste it. The question was who should succeed him.

"Against Tangrowth? Power Whip seems to indicate a physical brawler," I thought out loud. "Perhaps this will work- Skarmory!" I called out. The steel-feathered raptor emerged, stubborn as usual.

"Tangrowth, recall!"

"Spikes!" I ordered, knowing Skarmory was too slow to attack the retreating Tangrowth, and didn't hit hard enough to make attacking the incoming Pokémon worthwhile. Skarmory let loose a flurry of sharpened spikes from between his feathers, smattering the ground where Tangrowth had left the battlefield. An Exeggutor appeared in its place, hopping painfully across the spikes before clearing them.

"Skarmory, try using Whirlwind to herd the foe back onto the spikes," I ordered my pokemon. He didn't understand the command, and only heard "Whirlwind". Subsequently, a gusting wind funnel blew directly towards Exeggutor. I expected the opponent to dodge…

"Psychic!"

Exeggutor lit up, an aura of incandescent violet surrounding it. Skarmory squawked, finding himself being dragged forward into his own Whirlwind. The vortex flung the bird straight back towards me. I reflexively raised my arms, triggering the pokeball's recapture function accidentally. Skarmory was drawn in and locked inside the device.

Materialization and dematerialization was not a perfectly efficient process. If repeated too many times, in too short a window, it could cause a loss of genetic information during the transition. Called "Margin Deficiency Errors", these could cause seriously ugly and bizarre wounds; for instance, a Pokémon could pop out with half its vertebrae missing. Every Pokeball was designed with a safety timer built in, in order to prevent MDE. The timer disallowed a Pokémon from reappearing for a short period, the length of which was determined by various factors, such as the Pokémon's size, organic complexity, and metabolic energy reserves. Moves like Whirlwind and Dragon Tail were specifically tailored to exploit this safety delay.

In other words, I needed to bring someone else out to fight until the ball unlocked.

"Hmm."

With Steelix fainted and Skarmory in timeout, I needed to think hard about this one."Magnemite," I decided upon.

"With Skarmory gone… return, Exeggutor! Tangrowth!"

My little Steel-Electric appeared on the battlefield long enough to use Signal Beam, dealing moderate damage, and promptly getting one-shot by Super Power. I sighed, a little disappointed- in myself, not my Pokémon. I could have avoided that KO, but was too lazy. The light on Skarmory's ball clicked from dull red to a more vibrant crimson.

"Skarm Skarm, you're up again."

The battle progressed, with Erika doing much better than when she was facing Steelix. Skarmory scared her, forcing her to come up with increasingly complex stratagems for avoiding or hindering the bird. Against Magneton and Tyko, she had a much easier time of it.

"Seed Bomb!"

And there goes Tyko. I felt sorry for the Piplup, it was her first official battlefield fainting. It is a little touchy, having to throw such a cutesy, innocent Pokémon into battle like that. You always wonder if they'll adapt to the battling lifestyle or not. Among my old Pokémon, Choir and Oddish hadn't ever gotten used to the fighting, and so hadn't seen combat in at least three years.

"Well, it's even again," I murmured. Three versus three.

"Jasmine! Is this all you have?" Erika asked, a tiny bit incredulous.

"Pretty much."

My friend and opponent settled into a reserved posture, crossing her arms.

"Then this would be the time for me to explain what I hinted at earlier. My assessment is that you're much too reliant on Steelix for your staying power. Magneton has the firepower, but is too vulnerable, not just to Ground attacks, but also to status effects and special attacks. Skarmory has impressive defensive capabilities, but lacks a strong punch. Your others are just too weak to be competing."

"Thanks for the dissection. Any other complaints about my roster?" I said, crossly.

"Well, the point of battling you was for me to see, personally, where you were as a Pokémon trainer."

She smiled and tilted her head to the side, as if to say, 'sorry!'. That smile told me she's enjoying the hassle she's giving me, though.

"If this had been your usual three-versus-three match, Steelix would have given you an insurmountable advantage. With him gone, though, you struggle. Your other Pokémon have their individual advantages, but cumulatively they work in support of Steelix. Steelix's contribution to the overall battle effort becomes less impactful when you're forced into four-participant-plus battles. Your other Pokémon need to create their fair share of knock-outs. Even if they remain support, you are probably better off saving Steelix for last, after your stallers have softened the opponent."

"I could have told you all that without a battle! My strategy takes all of that into consideration. I haven't forgotten how to fight my own style," I told her.

"I wondered if you had… or if you were just going easy on me because I'm your friend. Otherwise, why did you lead with Steelix?"

"Because… I'm feeling lazy. I don't care if I win or lose this match," I admitted.

"THERE! That's the issue!" Erika shouted excitedly, pointing at me.

"What?"

"It doesn't matter who you're facing or how bad your day has been or how lazy you're feeling. You need to take every battle seriously!"

"That's pretty generic advice," I told her. "But it's too feel-goody. I thought you were going to help me train with real tactics and strategies."

Erika shook her head.

"You are brilliant, my dear. I could not hope to teach you anything about battling itself, nor could my Pokémon challenge your Pokémon in any meaningful way; yours are much stronger. But what I can teach you is the reason for why we are even right now, despite you being the better trainer."

"Because…"

"Because you let your negative emotions interfere with your fighting spirit." She crossed her arms again.

"That's an obtuse way of saying it, but I think I understand," I said.

"The difference between merely winning the majority of your matches, and beating out the majority of your challengers, is the willpower to go all-out every single match. Only then will your victories be so complete that your challengers will become demoralized and not return for rematches."

"It's too hard to be psyched for every single battle," I complained.

"Nonsense! It's all about willpower! Mental stamina! And simple decisions. Do you want to keep being a Gym Leader, or do you want to move back in with your mother and beg her for a job?!"

"GAH!" I gagged and sputtered.

SHE KNOWS ME TOO DAMN WELL!!!

Put it that way, and there's no need to go looking for motivation! Like hell I'm moving back in with my mother!

"Alright, Erika, I'll take you seriously now." I gripped my Pokeball in my fist, tight enough to make my knuckles go white.

"That's the spirit. But, know that I won't back down either. I fully intend on winning. You're too reliant on Steelix, and now that he's down, I feel like you have nothing left that can seriously hurt my Pokémon."

I waved her down.

"Keep talking to yourself. I'm going to beat you with Skarmory, eventually." It might take a long time, but Skarmory could eventually win just using Roost and Peck. It would be boring, but it was the sure path to victory.

"Don't underestimate your opponent either. What will you do when the easy-but-practical route is taken away?" Erika asked.

"How would you do that?"

And by way of demonstration, Erika called out her sixth Pokémon.

"Bellossom!"

It looks so little and weak compared to Vileplume. What does she expect it to do against Skarmory? Any number of things, I reckon. It wasn't a matter of if Skarmory had a counter for her attacks, but rather if I could predict which one she was going to use in time to relay the counter to Skarmory. This is where auto-reaction training would have been invaluable.

"Bellossom, Petal Burst S!"

"Skarm, Aerial Ace!" I called out, expecting Petal Dance. It was better to cut through the initial storm of petals than attempt to tank the directed floral vortex that was about to follow. Skarmory duly launched himself forward, wings brandished like sickles-

-only to stop three feet short of the target. He slumped forward, as if fainted.

"One-shot?" I inquired, not sure as to what had happened and disbelieving Bellossom had the capability to take Skarmory down in a single blow.

"Just sleeping."

"Uh? Oh! You borrowed Violet's tactic, didn't you?"

Erika let out a sly smile.

The Petal Dance had been laced with Sleep Powder; Whirlwind would have been the correct counter. Too late now. I recalled Skarmory before he became Bellossom's plaything.

"See what I mean? Part of being serious means accounting for the unexpected!"

"I get it, I get it!"

"Some more advice. This battle won't go on your record, so try experimenting! It won't count against you."

"I hate losing though," I whined.

"I know you do. If you want to succeed in life, though, you have to do things you don't like in order to harvest benefits later on. Use this as a learning opportunity. Don't be afraid to take risks just because there might be consequences! Being conservative makes especially no sense here, in a mock battle."

"Hmm."

What she's saying makes sense. Thinking it over, there was something I wanted to try, if only because if I didn't, this battle would become a 5v6 affair. In other words, I needed to use my sixth Pokémon… even if he might not like it.

"Amphy!" I called over to him.

The Pokémon had patiently watched me direct the battle from a perch atop a picnic table. I slapped my thigh, indicating for him to come to my side.

"Ampha!"

"You're going to battle!"

"Amph…"

He didn't seem at all enthused by that idea. Nonetheless, he obediently plodded over to me. His gaze wavered between me, tepid, and at Erika and her Pokémon, fearful.

I had not used Amphy in a Pokémon battle since… ever? Not a single gym battle, to be sure. No, never even a semi-official battle. Only childish mock battles when I was very young, before I even knew type advantages. Back then, he wasn't even in my care yet. He wasn't even Amphy yet, just Ampharos. I was seven years old the last time this Pokémon let off a Spark in battle. It was truly taxing my memory to reach that far into my childhood.

He keeps eyeing me. Asking me 'Why am I here?'. Worried that he might be hurt. Worried that he might not live up to expectations.

"This is your time to shine!" I told him, trying to psyche him up. Maybe what Amphy needs is a little competition in his life? We'll find out.

"Amphy, forward!" I called.

"Oh? Ampharos? I did not think he could battle."

"You asked me to experiment. Well, here's my scientific thesis: Amphy is gonna zap your butt!" Erika muffled a laugh.

"Bel bel!" Bellossom was ready, even becoming eager upon seeing the shyness of its foe.

"Um, Amphy, Safeguard!"

"Solarbeam!"

Bellossom absorbed energy, while Amphy stumbled through the motions of creating a status-protection charm. Several times he failed because he seemingly could not remember how to keep the mental incantations straight. I frowned, already regretting this experiment. Safeguard was one of the few moves I expected Amphy to know - not for battles, but to allow him to protect himself from weather, hypothermia, illness, poisons, and other nasty, unexpected surprises.

"BEEEEELLLLL!" Bellossom let loose a brilliant beam of concentrated solar energy, pulsing across Amphy's right flank. He yelped in shock and pain, letting off a reflexive Flash, his tail-bulb lighting up even brighter than Bellossom's burning ray of light. Clutching his side, he looked towards his opponent. Erika had ordered a second Solar Beam.

"Amph!"

"Amphy, what are you doing? Amphy! Hey, no, I can't shield you!" Amphy, fearing a second Solar Beam, had taken cover behind me. Bellossom held the burning core of the Solarbeam in reserve, waiting for Amphy to come back out into the open.

"Amphy! Go back out there! After years being cooped up in the tower, don't you want a chance to battle like my other Pokémon?"

I pulled the Pokémon out in front of myself and shoved him forward. Bellossom took the cue and let fly the second Solarbeam. This one hit the sand directly between Amphy's haunches, blowing up the Pokémon and sending him flipping over backwards.

"Oh dear. For an Ampharos, he isn't even very specially bulky?" Erika commented.

"No, I guess not."

He was slow to recover, and did not move very fast when he did.

"Well, Bellossom, please finish him- gently please. A Mega Drain will do."

Bellossom was having too much fun, however. It danced its way over to the cowering Ampharos. In one stubby arm it formed a vermilion-colored orb.

"Amphy, get up. Don't let it touch you!" I implored. "Spark! Signal Beam! Light Screen! Thunderbolt?! Do something!"

"Bel- OSSOM!"

Erika's Pokémon moved in for the kill, planting the Mega Drain orb directly into Amphy's abdomen. Amphy jumped in shock.

There was a crack.

My vision blurred. Sunspots bloomed right at my point of focus, making it impossible to see anything. My ears rang painfully, like the tone given off by a television emergency test. I tried concentrating, wondering which, if any, of my senses would come back to normal first.

"Oh dear," Erika said. Turns out audio returned first. "Bellossom, were you hit? I suppose Amphy has some fight in him after all. Was that a Flash? Well, no matter, just use a Giga Drain to end it."

"Amph."

"Hmm. Bellossom?"

"Amphy?"

We humans' vision returned at the same time. Amphy stood directly before me, head bowed. He was clearly upset.

"Bellossom, Giga Dr- Bellossom?!"

Bellossom stood rooted upright. Soft whorls of smoke lifted off its head. There was a smell, like sulfur, wafting through the air.

"She's… she's… fainted," Erika said in a daze.

"What's the matter?" I inquired. All throughout Steelix's blitzkrieg, Erika had kept her composure intact. Her reactions, her faces of shock and despair, had only been feigned then. Now, though? Genuine shock, genuine fear.

"What was that?"

"I don't know. Amphy, what did you do?"

"Ampharooo." He hesitated, but then began miming. A whirling motion with both paws, before one shot off in a zig-zag pattern, finally exploding at one end.

"He says Thunderbolt. What's surprising?"

"Bellossom…" Erika uttered. "She was my strongest Pokémon… and Special Defense was her strongest attribute. I've known her to take super-effective Overheat attacks without being troubled. Yet… a single, resisted Thunderbolt…. in one hit. Ridiculous." She shook her head. "I'm terribly sorry. I shouldn't have goaded you like that. We shouldn't have fought here without a shield generator. If only you had told me how strong Ampharos was."

"I didn't know." I looked upon my mute Pokémon with wonder, shortly transforming into excited joy.

Amphy! You DO have something you're good at! You're not just a biological lighthouse beacon! Okay, you may be slow, and bad at performing complicated commands, but… that was your Thunderbolt! Wow!

"I'm so happy for you! You're a Thunderbolt-nuke-plant!" I embraced my Pokémon, who did not reciprocate with anywhere near the same amount of enthusiasm.

"Well, um… I suppose we should finish the battle," Erika stuttered.

It wasn't close. I urged Amphy to create a Safegaurd for himself and the team, which he finally pulled off while Erika switched for Exeggutor. I then sent Amphy to the back and let out Magneton. Without having to worry about Sleep or Paralysis or any of those other nasty effects, Magneton was virtually immune to Exeggutor's attacks. Signal Beam decimated the Pokémon. Tangrowth attempted a Super Power, but a Thunder Wave killed its momentum. A Flash Cannon nailed the creeper in the face, blasting the Pokémon into fainting. Its vines stood straight out from it body.

"Gross," I muttered, witnessing what Tangrowth looked like underneath its cloak of vines. Pardon me if I don't describe the grotesque sight.

Anyways, I won 3-0, and was feeling immensely better about myself.

Clapping sounds came from behind. Lyra, Ethan, and some bystanders stood to applaud me. I turned to wave at them, only to hear more clapping coming from my front. Erika was tapping her hands together. We greeted each other with a hug at the midpoint of the field.

"I expected to lose, actually. I just wanted to show you a few things along the way," Erika said.

"Like coming to battle mentally prepared," I echoed.

"Most importantly that, yes, correct. Also, to not rely on Steelix so much. It isn't good to have one all-powerful Pokémon, but no backup. No Pokémon, even the legendaries, can handle every other Pokémon in existence."

"I know that. It's why I've been focusing on acquiring new Pokémon recently. Even before the summit, I had challengers bringing nothing but Steelix-counters- and still winning. I couldn't get anything going with Magneton, Magnemite, not even Magcargo. It was very irksome."

"It's good to know you understand that. Still, I must say I underestimated just how strong Steelix is. Even with you being lazy, I did not expect him to handle half of my team."

"Ha!" I nodded to myself, eyes closed, a bit smug. "I didn't get to be a Gym Leader by relying on the likes of Sunkern and Magnemite! Steelix is not merely my strongest, he is virtually my entire team all by himself."

"If you raise the rest of your team up to his level, I'm sure you will be among the strongest Gym Leaders in the nation, if not the world," Erika predicted. I chuckled at the suggestion. "Oh, and even though he is required for lighthouse duty, would you see if Ampharos could battle for you occasionally? At the very least, you should measure his Special Attack rating with one of those statistics machines. I suspect everyone present will gasp when they see the number."

"Hahahahaha!" I began laughing to myself, a bit harder than the humor of the joke merited.

"You have visitors," Erika said, nodding to fresh arrivals.

Lyra and then Ethan congratulated me on my victory. The man was curt and stoic, the woman was mildly exuberant, as typical of their personalities.

"That was a great battle Jasmine! Hey, I want you to show me that thing Steelix did, that thing…"

"What thing?"

"The thing where he looked like a rotor tiller, to create a trap for Vileplume."

"Oh, that. It was a Bulldoze-enhanced Sand Tomb. I actually needed it to get down to the dirt bed to use Earthquake."

"Yeah, can you show me that?"

"Steelix is fainted…" I said, unsure of how we could remedy that.

"I have some Revives."

"Revives? But those are expensive! I wouldn't want you to waste your items-"

"No problem! I'm not hurting for inventory, hahaha!"

So we revived Steelix and put him through the motions. The Pokémon had finished creating another crater reaching to the dirt-bed when another figure hovered into view. It was just barely in my peripheral vision, so I gave him a quick glance, and then a double-take.

"Volkner…"

What is he doing here? My guard went up instantly.

"Hi." He had his hands tucked into his pockets, as if embarrassed to have come forward. "Watched your battle. It was impressive- Amphar- I mean Amphy was pretty spectacular."

I nodded. Compliments like that were nice and all, and especially to receive praise for an Electric Pokemon from the most famous of all Electric-type specialists in the nation was a little flattering. But I wondered exactly what Volkner was doing here. It couldn't be coincidence that this was the third time, in three different places, that we had met in under twenty-four hours. Was he stalking me?

"So, I, uh, found your part," he muttered. He indicated a cardboard box wrapped in tape and labels sitting on a park bench, being guarded by a Raichu.

"Good. You'll fix the generator tomorrow?"

"Yeah, probably. I'll catch a ride back home tomorrow afternoon. In the meantime…"

"What is it?" I tensed. He looked embarrassed, like he didn't want to say what he was about to say, especially with company surrounding us. He glanced at them, a signal I took as wishing they would disappear. Not going to happen, unfortunately.

"I wanted to, um, have a little alone time… with Amphy."

…

"Amphy?!"

That was either the lamest copout of all time, or you have some explaining to do, mister!

"How do I explain it?" He put a hand through his hair, slightly oily from the looks of it, bearing out the time and effort spent scouring Olivine on my behalf. His gaze wandered towards the ocean expanse.

"He's an Electric-type, so you could say, I care for the dude more than what's appropriate, considering I'm a stranger. Still, I'd like to see if I can figure out what's wrong with him, and maybe, help train him. He's got some promise as a nuker- that Thunderbolt was as strong as anything my Zapdos ever ripped off."

"I see…"

Now I understand it. He got caught in the trap.

"I understand. Sure. Go ahead."

"Thanks."

"What was that all about?" Erika said, as the three of us girls watched the Sunnyshore Gym Leader make his way towards Amphy. My Pokémon squatted atop a flight of steps, anxiously looking this way and that.