Within Our Nation - A Team Rocket Story

4.02 - To Catch Them is my Real Test
Hoshi wasn't quite as familiar with the path heading east of the city as he had been when he was younger.

After the incident with that stupid fucker of a kid, he'd… sort of just avoided it. Not on purpose, but it was like there was an invisible hand dragging his mind away from the place. He stopped gambling with the old men, let that section of his life turn into a faintly blood-stained memory.

So he was actually slightly surprised by how well-kept the route was. "Huh, they turned this place into a damn golf course."

He was exaggerating, but only a bit. The grass, which was long and unruly in his memories, was now cut short. Not in the same way as city grass – it still came up past his shins – but the difference was enough to be jarring. I didn't get that much taller in the last four years, did I?

"There'll still be Pokémon around," Casca replied. "Speaking of that, what should I go for? Candy's weak to grass and electric, sooo…"

"So a ground type would shore up one weakness but double down on the other." He pondered it for a second. "Grass is the logical choice. They're more common north of the city, but we should be able to find something." Hoshi smiled, bumping his girlfriend's shoulder. "Maybe show those two-bit drug runners what a real oddish can do."

She bumped back. "Eh, maybe? That's another stone evolution; I don't want too many of those. Rocket pays good, but not that good."

"Just a thought. We'll see if anything jumps out." Where the fuck are the others? They were a fair ways in already, passing by a few kids and old people casually battling – old veterans showing the newest generation what was what. "Didn't you want a specialist team, anyway? I remember you being into the idea before- before we got serious."

Casca tipped her head. "It's a nice idea, but… Like, I'm never gonna be an elite agent, I know myself enough to tell I don't have that kinda drive." Another shoulder-bump. "Not like you, stud. Nah, I don't have the tactical chops to beat a type disadvantage – your uncle proved that. Better to have a good spread, and just switch to what's strongest."

Hoshi grunted, then stopped in his tracks. His eyes drew over the late afternoon path, lingering on each figure. "Okay, what's going on here? I told everybody to meet up at the start, and we're coming up on the half-way point. At least one of them should've shown up, right?"







They spent an hour fruitlessly combing Route 11, all the way up and back. Hoshi passed by a few magnemite that enticed him, but in the end he kept moving; if his pack of idiots were getting eaten by a band of wild arbok, better to find them right away. And if they just ditched me, I want enough time left before sunset to kill their collective ass.

Casca battled a toddler for pocket money while he climbed a tree to get a bird's eye view over the route. He could admit it was stupid – they'd been from one side to the other and the land was too flat to obscure a group of four, especially Puce – but he was annoyed enough to start doing stupid shit. "Waste of my Tuesday afternoon. I could be fucking training right now – or fucking fucking," he muttered to himself.

A pidgey hopped out of its nest to peck at his hair, and Hoshi sighed. Useless. He descended back to the ground just as Candy finished mopping the metaphorical floor with the kid's machop.

He handed her what was probably a fiver. "Thank you for the battle, ma'am." Glasses and sweater – would have expected him to have a 'nerd' Pokémon like a venonat. I guess stereotypes only take you so far…

"Aww," Casca cooed. "You too, little guy. Make sure you give your buddy plenty of rest outside his ball, alright?"

Hoshi came up beside her and the two watched the child – he couldn't have been older than nine, younger than most trainers – amble back towards the city.

"See anything?"

"Nothing. Either they're invisible or they're not here." The kid left their immediate sight, obscured by the remaining low shrubbery and ongoing battles. "You think that was one of those super-geniuses that could get a license legit? I don't think they'd give out an emergency one to a school kid." Not before an honest working man, I hope to Arcus.

"Maybe? He was an okay battler."

Hoshi grunted, then sighed. "Well, I'm ready to call this thing a bust. Wanna go home?"

"Aww, c'mon," she cajoled. "Let's at least throw a ball at something – let me guess, you want a ground type, right?"

He nodded, letting himself be moved. "Yeah. Normal and poison-flying are both weak to rock and steel, and ground plugs that hole perfectly."

"Sure, stud. And it's got nothing to do with watching geodude sweep the Gym your whole life, right?" She shot a cheeky grin his way, and Hoshi found some of the day's recent frustration lightening.

"Hey, I didn't say that. There can be more than one reason."







"Oh, for fuck's sake, people!"

One minute. That was how long it took between walking through the cave entrance, and bumping into his Arcus damned pack of fucking idiots. "Why the fuck are you in here?! Do you know how long I looked for you?!"

Kenny, Puce, and Ryan looked back with various levels of surprise and contriteness, the whites of their eyes poking out from the gloom of the badly-lit cavern like dim stars. "Ah, Hoshi," Ryan began, his dragon out and bouncing around its trainer. "You're just in time. You see, we've-"

"I saw a rare Pokémon," Puce interrupted. "It's my fault, I'm sorry. Please don't yell at anyone else."

Hoshi bit his tongue to keep from cursing. "And so you all piled into the cave, just like that?"

"Hey, don't be like that." Moony, I swear I'll kick your roided-up balls into your fucking mouth..! "We left Nerd out at the entrance to wave you down. What, you didn't see her?"

Again, Hoshi bit his tongue. Don't blow up. It's just one afternoon of your life – and fuck, if there actually is a rare 'mon then that's a good thing. "Fine, whatever," he spat, grateful for Casca's light touch on the small of his back. "What Pokémon are we looking for?"

Kenny snorted. "Oh, you're gonna love this…"

"I, uh," Puce stammered. "Don't remember the name? But it's a rare one, I know that."

Slowly, in his head, Hoshi counted down from ten. "Yeah?" The flatness of his voice made the large woman flinch. "Fancy that, you not remembering a thing."

"S-sorry…"

"But this is an opportunity, isn't it?" Ryan said, stepping in front of Puce. "With a third strong companion, our collective star will shine even brighter. While it's unfortunate that you and Miss Rose missed each other-"

"Zip it," Hoshi snapped, drawing a subdued grimace from the blond. "You've convinced me. Just-" I need to cool the fuck off. "I'll go get Nerine, you three catch Casca up on what it is we're looking for."

Before anyone could say another word, he was off.







Nerine was dreaming.

It was easy to recognise, because she wasn't her. No, Nerine was just a little thornbush, one amongst many, brothers and sisters crowding around her to make a solid wall.

One wall of a maze. One part of one wall of a maze, that was her.

Sometimes, people would walk past – and when their back was turned, instinct compelled her to move. She lifted up her roots, slithered across the cold ground, and moving as a single piece the wall came with her.

The maze shifted, the answer changed while no one was looking, the puzzle became inescapable.

It was… good. It felt right, to be part of the wall. It was right that these people were here, wandering, kept inside forever. It was good that her siblings were around her, their branches tangled into each other so strongly that they moved as one.

And then, something that didn't fit.

A mop of unruly brown hair, hiding his eyes. The smallest hints of a potbelly stretching the bottom of his plain button-up shirt. A nametag, bearing a partial triangle in the corner.

Something told her that this time, it was wrong. This man shouldn't be here, and it would be better for everyone if he escaped – but the wall was moving. The thorns turned from purple to black and red, and she was moving whether she wanted to or not. He turned back for a moment as the path to freedom closed behind him, and-


And something gently but persistently nudged Nerine awake. Her eyes opened to see the darkening sky, and two blurry shapes – after a second's confusion she reached up to adjust her glasses, and they resolved into Hoshi Mutsu and the crown of the tree she was laying against.

"Wha..?"

"Decided to take a nap, huh?"

His voice was unimpressed, and the tone cut through her sleepy brain to jolt her right awake. Oh, shit. I didn't think I'd- I didn't mean to actually fall asleep!

She stood, motions a touch unsteady despite the hit of adrenaline. "Sorry, I… I haven't been sleeping great lately."

The Senior Grunt grunted. He gestured with his chin, not bothering to uncross his arms, and started walking. She hurried to catch up, a light blush rushing to her face. "Seriously," she continued. "How long did you-" He's angry. More than usual. That's for a reason. And the sky was darker than she was expecting, too. "…You already found the others."

"After searching for a damn hour, yeah. Next time, don't take a nap in a flowerbed that looks exactly like your shirt."

His words made her look back – and yeah, now that she was more lucid that was the worst possible spot she could've picked. The entrance to the cave was a public park, and she'd nodded off at the foot of a tree just off the path; with the shadows and the green-purple-pink flowers, she'd have been the next best thing to invisible. It would almost be impressive if I'd done it on purpose, came a rueful voice from her subconscious.

"Sorry," she repeated.

"Whatever," Hoshi shot back, obviously still seething. "Let's do what we came here to do. Puce said she saw a Pokémon?"

The entrance to the cave was almost unadorned, with only a small plaque bearing the name of the tunnel marking it as a place humans had ever touched. "Yeah. She didn't-"

"Remember the name, yeah. Go on."

"…Right." The interior of the cave was a bit less naturalistic; there was a single line of hanging bulbs strung up across the ceiling, providing just enough light to keep from bumping into the walls. "She said it was pink? That's all I heard before volunteering for guard duty, anyway."

Another grunt as he forged ahead – but a second later the man stopped and shook his head violently.

His mouth moving like he was chewing raw onions, Hoshi choked out, "Sorry. I'm kind of… not feeling great, right this moment."

She didn't know how to reply to that without just saying sorry again, so she stayed silent.

"It's stupid – I know it's stupid, and that makes it even worse. Everything is going great, and then… Some little thing, something that doesn't even matter, goes wrong… and I blow up!" He mimed an explosion. "Pow! Over nothing! It's- I already said it's stupid, but it really is. So, sorry. And… apology accepted, for what it's worth."

He took a breath, audible in the tight confines of the cave, and then kept walking – and Nerine felt some sort of thin, perverse amusement that he hadn't once turned to look at her while apologizing.

What do I even say to that? Should I say something?

Hoshi Mutsu was… familiar to her. He had a certain aura, a wild energy that came out when he moved, and built when he stayed still. It was something that the best and worst people in Fuchsia had. All poisons are medicines, so said that old piece of folk wisdom. He's… showing a bit of vulnerability. I should say something.

She opened her mouth, hesitated, and then pushed through despite not being able to actually think of anything. "I'm sorry about your parents," said her mouth, and the rest of her face froze incredulously. Arc. I'm really, really, really not getting enough sleep.

Hoshi turned, mouth slightly open, his face slowly changing shape as if he wasn't sure yet if what he'd heard was real.

…Fuck it. "Casca mentioned it at the beach thing – well, she said 'Don't ever talk to Hoshi about his parents,' which makes it obvious that something happened, and… I guess… I'm doing the exact opposite of what she told me to do."

He blinked, face still slack.

"And I just thought… My parents died when I was really young. I had to live with my uncle, like you did, and… And I don't know where I'm going with this. I just…" She put her hands up. "You said something mushy and I had to say something back. This is weird. Sorry."

The Rocket kept his slack expression for a moment – and then choked out a sound like a sad hypno, a long, half-stifled honk of laughter. A harder blush warmed her cheeks as he very nearly doubled over.

"You," he got out between breaths, "You really are a teenager."

Thankfully, it was probably too dark for him to see how embarrassed she was – but even so, she couldn't look him in the eye. "Really?" she said, injecting sarcasm to dampen the heat radiating from her cheeks. "Never noticed…"

"No, it's just- I've been thinking about you lot like some problem I need to deal with, and that's…" The laughter died. "That's a shitty thing for me to do. I am, as much as I hate thinking about it too hard, in charge of you. You're like, fourteen, I can't expect you to have your shit together."

"Fuck off," she mouthed, the sound not quite making it out of her head. I'm fifteen.

"I guess we've all got to like, work together and shit."

"We're already doing that," Nerine again failed to say.

"Fuck." He shook his head again. "I needed that. Catharsis, you know? Puts shit in perspective." Another of those deep breaths, in and out in a rush like he was trying to expel every bit of gas from his lungs. There was silence for a second, and then he kept walking.

She followed, and as she did he moderated his speed so they were more or less side-by-side.

"Sorry about your parents, too. Was it the war?"

"The war ended before I was born," she mumbled, dregs of embarrassment still clinging tight.

Hoshi shook his head, and this time the motion was calm, measured, almost sad. "No it didn't. War's been going on every damn day since nineteen eighty-eight."

Nerine didn't know what to say to that either, so she remained silent – at least until an image came to mind, one that was burned so deeply into her brain it might as well be a cattle brand: that flimsy plastic nametag, Parnass Nishiki in black marker next to the official League symbol. "…I want to say you're wrong, but you really aren't, are you?"







When they found them, the group was arguing.

"It can't be a clefairy, that would be boring," came Casca's voice from around the next bend. "Come on, think of something with a little spice."

Hoshi and Nerine rounded the corner to see Kenny rolling his eyes. "What's boring about that? It's a rare Pokémon, pretty strong, beats dragons to a pulp…"

"Kantonian clefairy are normal type," the teen at his side called out. "And I'm surprised you'd admit they're strong, Moony. You seem like the kind of guy who'd throw up if they have to be around a girl's Pokemon… no offense," she tacked on at the end.

"Oi," the man grunted. "Uncalled for. I'm all kinds of progressive, bitch. That old-fashioned shit's dumb."

Ryan cleared his throat as they joined up. "As I said earlier, a clefairy would make the most sense. The other end of the cave comes out reasonably near Mount Moon, and if it was driven off from its natural habitat then it would try and find somewhere similar to its home – hence, Diglett's Cave." He nodded at his own logic, causing Casca to stick out her tongue.

"Boring. I'm hoping it's a slowking. Does that sound right, Puce?"

The woman was drawn in on herself. "…Maybe? I didn't get the best look at it, but I think it was bipedal?"

Hoshi sighed. "That doesn't exactly narrow it down. I'm assuming that none of you've seen a glimpse of this thing since I left?" Four shaking heads. "Fantastic."

His eyes went to the cave walls. They were soft dirt, unlike the solid stone of most of the country's caverns, and if he squinted he could just make out a dozen shadows that might have been side paths on this stretch alone.

Mapping out Diglett's Cave was impossible; the Pokémon it was named for regularly reshaped the entire thing with their migrations. Only the large main path, the lit one they were on, was remotely consistent.

Sigh. "Well, we'll have to get our hands dirty then. Casca, you brought a flashlight?"

"Two of 'em," she replied. "Battery isn't great, though – they aren't proper caving lights."

"Should last for one trip – and these tunnels were carved by living things, not water or whatever, so they should make some amount of sense."

His girlfriend dug in her bag, handing him a sturdy box-with-a-handle style flashlight a second later. "Hmm, sounds like something you'd hear in a horror movie, right before the horror bit happens. We're splitting up, then?"

"Unless you want to be here all night. One group of three can take all the left-side offshoots, while the other-"

Before he could finish, Casca interrupted. "Ooh, girl's night!"







"Anything?"

Hoshi's voice echoed slightly, despite the packed earth absorbing a lot more sound than stone walls would've. Ahead of him, past Kenny's bulk, the light dipped around. Ryan swung it side to side, inspecting both the floor and ceiling before turning back.

"Dead end," he reported, disappointed. "No tracks I can see, either."

The next two minutes were spent extricating themselves from the narrow tunnel, and when he was finally back in the main path Hoshi took the opportunity to stretch. Damn thing is leading us around the place. Does it know it's being followed?

Kenny squeezed his dirt-coated torso through the opening, and Jorm followed close behind with his bulbous snout nearly touching the ground. The bagon growled and began hunting for their prey's scent again as Ryan brought up the rear.

"Damn moles," Kenny hissed. "Why make so many little tunnels to nowhere? Ain't even a burrow at the end'a most of 'em…" He brushed at his shirt, which was more mud than fabric.

"Don't be glum, Kaneth. This is good experience!"

Of the three of them, Ryan was the only one happy about the situation. I can't believe he managed to train his dragon to track scents on top of battling – he has to have a whole team of people helping him, the rich fuck. But as much as it annoyed him to admit, Ryan was right; the steady stream of diglett they were encountering were a boon for their Pokémon.

Mostly where speed and precision were concerned; the tiny things were fast, diving down and repositioning in the time it took to blink. But crucially they weren't very strong, and so the Rocket's four Pokémon weren't in much trouble even when they ran into a group of five or six.

He didn't want to dig out his Mini-Dex with his hands covered in muck, but Hoshi was pretty sure that if he did he'd see Crow on the edge of learning Astonish; she'd been diving down to squeak at her last few opponents before latching on, the sound oddly startling even when Hoshi was bracing himself.

I should try and train her to do something like Jorm – I bet I could get her to answer yes or no to 'Is there something down this tunnel?' pretty easily…

Something to think about another day; the bagon jumped and yipped, drawing their attention to a different tunnel.

"Good man," Ryan praised, while Kenny sighed in resignation.

"Was hopin' to get out and find somethin' else, but this's gonna take all night…"

Hoshi patted the large man on the back as Ryan followed his Pokémon into what must be their thirtieth tunnel at least. "Not planning to fight Ryan for whatever this thing is?"

"Naw. I'm tired 'a losing so much."

Hoshi snorted. "Hey, look on the bright side…"

The beam of light turned back, and Ryan's voice echoed through the small – but big enough, like the rest; we're dealing with something a lot bigger than a jigglypuff – opening. "What's the hold up back there? If we don't hurry, the other team might find the quarry before us!"

"…That little dragon of his is gonna take forever to evolve. Pretty soon we'll have a sandslash and a raticate, and it'll be him losing every match."

Kenny perked up. "Hm. That sounds pretty good."

As the two of them slithered into the damp opening, Hoshi took a moment to look back and think of Ryan's comment. Wonder if the girls are having better luck than us…







"Water Gun!"

"Hu-huh!"

Candy shot out a picture-perfect beam of water, not a drop of liquid spraying to the side – but to Casca's immense frustration the trio of conjoined heads simply dove down below the soft earth, her staryu's attack carving a narrow trench and little else.

"You need a hand with that?" came a much-too-calm voice from behind her back.

"No, keep the little ones off!"

She chanced a glance back and saw Nerine and Puce holding the line with their poison types. It was actually a surprise how well they were doing; the numerous diglett might have them outnumbered and at a type disadvantage, but they were scared of the ekans in a way that they just weren't of Casca's staryu.

It was also nice that, being close to the ground, Potato could hit them with gas without knocking all the humans out. Thank fuck ground isn't outright immune, or this'd by a different fight-

A meaty smack drew her attention back to her own battle, and she turned to find Candy shaking mud off her gem.

"Rapid Spin! Keep a Water Gun primed, and shoot it when it next pops up!"

For a moment Casca worried that she'd given her Pokémon too confusing an order – but then the staryu twirled in place, sending mud flying in all directions, and lowered her top arm down to scan across the chamber's floor.

Tension, and as the seconds dragged on the urge to turn and help the others with what must be at least forty wild Pokémon almost overwhelmed her…

But then the dugtrio reappeared, directly under Candy's feet. Casca's Pokémon was flung up into the air, and she clenched her jaw as she followed her with her flashlight, the wild tumbling sending shadows across the cave as Candy's gem reflected the beam. Damnit, it's not dumb enough to fall for- wait. The Water Gun hasn't gone off!

"Shoot down, Candy! Straight down!"

The spinning star obeyed, stabilising herself until the primed arm was pointed in the right direction. The cave shook as the dugtrio turned Casca's way, obviously building up for a much stronger move than it had shown so far – only for the super-effective jet to strike its middle head right at its apex.

The wild Pokémon bellowed, angry, and abandoned what it was doing to fling mud upwards. Candy was hit again, right in the gem, forcefully enough to send her into the nearest wall.

"Candy!" Don't faint! It's just a Mud-Slap, you can take it!

…Right?


Unfortunately, her hopes weren't enough to change reality; Candy flopped down, lay still, and the dugtrio turned her way again.

Casca panicked. Fuck, she thought as the ground shook under her feet. What do I do? Call for help? There was only a fraction of a second before the attack completed and broke her legs at the very least. Can I dodge? Attack it? I- I don't have any options! Throw my damn flashlight-

Her breath stilled as the insight crashed through the panic like a thrown brick. Lightning fast – thank you, long boring training sessions – her hand closed around a round shape in her bag. She threw the concealed Rocket Ball she'd bought with street cred, and prayed.

Come on. It's damaged, and the instructors always talk these things up like they're Ultra Balls or something-

A tremor took her off her feet, the impact like hitting the ground after a ten-foot drop. Pain shot up both her ankles, and there was a snap-

But it wasn't the sound of her bones breaking; the ball had hit the wild 'mon right in its middle nose, and it let out one last stuttering cry as it transformed into red light. Casca watched the ball twitch for a pregnant second as she sprawled on the ground – and then she snapped to attention.

Don't lie there, dummy! Groping blindly, her fingers found a metal tube-shape as she pushed her sore ankles to their limit. As the ball shook a second time she crawled forward and knelt over Candy, spraying the Super Potion across her Pokémon's waxy skin.

"Wake up. Wakeupwakeupwakeup!" she hissed. I should've shelled out for a Max Potion!

And to her relief, the staryu's limbs began wriggling without coordination. Candy regained consciousness as Casca turned to see the ball vibrating violently, the trapped dugtrio straining to break free.

"Candy, prep water gun."

Another tense second passed – and her order was rendered obsolete as the rocking ball calmed. Whew… I feel… light-headed…

Actually, that was probably the Clear Smog working itself into her lungs from being so far down. She stood, using her Pokémon as a brace, and retrieved her new team member. Oh, Hoshi's going to be so jealous.

Then she turned to the ongoing battle with a shaky grin. The other girls were winning, she was pretty sure, but that wasn't a reason to slack off. She pointed at the nearest diglett, who was turning in confused circles searching for its disappeared leader. Its beady eyes were red and irritated from the wafting poison, but they still widened when it saw what was coming. "Water Gun!"







A dead end, a dead end, another dead end…

It has to know it's being tailed. That's the only thing that makes sense.

Hoshi bared his teeth as he pulled, and Kenny tumbled free as the walls lost enough of their integrity to allow him through. "Gah-!" the muscular grunt exclaimed, toppling forward and sending them both down.

Three splashes sounded out as the three men ate mud, then another smaller one as Jormungandr joined in on what was, for him, probably a very fun outing.

"Ugh…" Hoshi groaned. "Get off me."

Ryan rolled off, then Kenny, and finally Hoshi pulled himself up. I'm gonna kill this fucking thing, I don't care what it is. Damn it, there's mud in my backpack…

The trio straightened out, and at this point even Ryan was looking haggard. But as his Pokémon hopped around his feet, and as he cleaned the muck off Casca's flashlight, the blond attempted a smile.

"We're very nearly at the end, aren't we? It can't be far."

"Unless it's left the cave," Hoshi pointed out, pausing to spit before continuing. "Nobody said it had to stay here. And I don't feel like tromping through Pewter or Viridian Forest in the middle of the night." It must be midnight by now. "If we hit the end and don't find it, I say we leave."

"Seconded," Kenny added, and Ryan's fake smile dimmed.

"…Fine. Shall we keep moving, or do you require a nap, Boss?"

Hoshi spit again. "Fuck off," he said, but there was no emotion behind the curse; he was too tired to get his blood up. "I'm up. Let's go."

The next tunnel was empty, and the one after that had three diglett. Guts, Bubbles, and Jormungandr took one each, but it was clear that the Pokémon – the former two, at least – were as out of steam as their trainers.

"I'm outta Potion," Kenny said as they rested against the burrow's wall.

Ryan grunted and reached into the small pack on his belt, but after a moment's digging his expression turned to confusion. "Hm? I could have sworn…" He dug further, removing several Antidotes and other medicines, but whatever he was looking for eluded him. "Fiddlesticks, I could've sworn I'd packed a Full Restore, but…"

"Here," Hoshi broke in, holding out one of his own potions. "I've only got two left, and the other one's mine; if you run out again, we're bugging out." Neither of his subordinates complained as Kenny began spraying his sandshrew with the healing liquid. "None of us were prepared to go this deep in."

Ryan stroked his dragon's snout. "Agreed. But…" He perked up, seemingly regaining a touch of energy. "This is what being a trainer is about, isn't it? Braving the wilds, facing danger with one's companions at their side…"

Hoshi let out another groan, and Kenny joined in. "Damn samurai spirit…" The comment drew a tired chuckle from Ryan, and they managed to stand up a minute later.

The next tunnel was a thankfully-short dead-end… and then they were looking at the last offshoot before they hit open air.

"Well, last chance…" As always Ryan took point, following his bagon's nose, and the three men ventured through the tunnel to find… a dead end.

"Damnation," Ryan cursed, but Hoshi found that he was almost feeling better than he had a moment before. Welp, it's done. We tried, but it gave us the slip – unless Casca's group caught it. Not impossible, but unlikely; without Jorm's tracking ability the other three were probably still somewhere around the midsection of the cave.

"Damn," Kenny agreed, his mood closer to Ryan's than Hoshi's. "What a let-down. I wanted to know what it was!"

"Probably just a clefairy."

"Yeah, but what if it wasn't? I'm gonna be thinkin' about it all day tomorrow…"

They made their way back to the main tunnel – and Hoshi saw a sliver of light coming through the distant cave mouth, barely managing to overpower the dim electric lights. Wow, my sense of time was way off – in hindsight there's no way we walked all the way to Route 2 in just a few hours…

"Back?"

"Back." "Back."

They trudged with heavy steps back towards the Vermilion end of the tunnel – but Ryan paused. "Mutsu…"

"No," Hoshi answered before he even heard whatever the man had to say. "We're done. Our Pokémon are done. I'm gonna fucking die at work tomorrow…"

"Yes, yes, but look!" Ryan grabbed him by the arm, and Hoshi considered smacking the man off before concluding he didn't have the energy.

"Fucking- what?" He looked; Ryan was pointing at his bagon, the baby dragon hopping around flaunting its energy. "What? He's just jumping around like he always does."

"Not like this! Look – he's so excited about that tunnel! The trail must be incredibly fresh! Come on-!" No, don't say it, I'll fucking hit you you- "One more! Surely we can do one, last, final side path?"

Hoshi looked at the man with all the disgust he could muster – but as Jormungandr continued to try and get their attention, jumping around and running in circles around the entrance to the right-hand tunnel – which was on their left, as they'd turned around – his heart started to beat faster.

"…One more. But if we run into more than a single diglett in there, I'm kicking your ass." Tomorrow, after I sleep for twelve hours.

The man didn't answer, instead following his Pokémon into the narrow opening. Kenny made an exhausted noise, but followed Hoshi's lead when he went in himself.

Don't know why I'm getting my hopes up, this trip has been nothing but-

The thought was cut off as, only a few feet in, a flash of pink was illuminated by the flashlight's beam. Oh, no fucking way. It stopped at literally the last tunnel on the girl's side?

Jormungandr sauntered forward, fangs bared, and Ryan fumbled for his Pokéball. "No, it's obviously asleep- Jormungandr, return!"

The dragon disappeared before its jaws could snap shut on the mystery Pokémon, and they breathed a sigh of relief. Hoshi poked Ryan in the side and whispered, "Move it."

They entered the little room at the end of the short tunnel – it was a proper burrow, their quarry must have chased the diglett out before falling asleep – and quietly surrounded it.

"What the fuck is it?" Kenny asked.

"No idea," Hoshi answered. It must have been rare indeed, because Hoshi didn't recognise the 'mon in the least.

But apparently, Ryan did. "Son of a whore," he whisper-shouted. "Of all the- we came all this way for a damned lickitung?" He sounded like the soft-looking pink blob was a pile of shit.

"Lickitung?" Kenny repeated. "Is that a rare-"

"It's rare and it's useless." Ryan hissed, forcing the flashlight into Hoshi's hands. "I'm leaving. Of all the wastes of time- a lickitung, the Dexus take me but I'd have preferred nothing…"

The two men watched him go, then looked at each other.

"Wow. And he was all gung-ho a second ago," Kenny whispered.

"Right? Anyway, it's asleep; it shouldn't put up a fight. Let's catch it and go."

They turned to the lickitung – but then back to each other. As the bubblegum-pink Pokémon snored softly, the two Rocket Grunts shared a thought. Okay, but there's two of us and one of it. Who gets it?

Hoshi's hand reached for Crow's ball – but he stopped himself. "You catch it for now. If it's as rare as we think it is, we can sell it and split the money."

Kenny hesitated, searching Hoshi's face for deception, then gave a small nod. He plucked a Pokéball from his belt, and with a slow underhanded toss the thing disappeared.

The ball didn't even wiggle.







Hoshi couldn't muster the willpower to look at his watch, but given how high the sun was when they emerged from the cave… Somewhere after six.

He would have to call in sick – heck, he wouldn't even be lying; he felt dead tired.

The group said their goodbyes and split up, Puce heading south and Ryan north. Kenny and Nerine broke off a bit later, leaving Hoshi and Casca to walk the long path to the city's western edge alone.

"Casca…" he breathed.

"Yeah?"

"If I ever suggest going hunting after work, stop me."

"Yeah…"


They got home at around the time Hoshi would have been leaving, and he slumped in a chair in the kitchen while waiting for his girlfriend to finish her shower. His thoughts were a mire… but one thing stood out.

Lickitung… Lickitung… I'm… ten, twenty percent sure I've heard that name before. Some foreign tournament winner… But that didn't fit with Ryan's comment, or his own knowledge of strong Pokémon. The name… Could I be wrong? I'm almost asleep, here…

In the morning, I'll look it up in the morning…


Hoshi woke up four hours later, and had to drag an unconscious and pruney Casca from the still-running shower.
 
4.03 - Purchasing Power
Hoshi did, indeed, take the day off.

After Casca left – she couldn't exactly call in sick, not with the extended Night Folk business going on – he spent Wednesday mostly unconscious. But after stuffing himself with the last of the beach leftovers and taking a brief second shower, he managed to drag himself out the door and into the nearest public library.

Ah, thank Arcus for air conditioning, he thought as he crossed the threshold; while the heat was back to reasonable, it was still much hotter than it should have been a few days from October. Hoshi made his way to the dictionaries section, took a moment to think, and then began scanning for the O section.

Lickitung, he repeated to himself as he browsed the shelves. Now that I've slept on it, I remember. That's not quite the name I heard before, so I'm guessing…

Damn, is there really only one by the Professor?
The copy of An In-Depth Guide to Indigo Wildlife by Samuel Oak sat alone, sandwiched between two copies of Observations on Bird Migrations by Bustard Otis.

I'd have expected more.
He pulled it from the shelf and found the volume was worn, the pages dog-eared by the rough hands of some snot-nosed child – but when he brought it to the nearest table and opened the cover, the words were more than legible enough.

He flipped through, a note of triumph playing down his spine as the time-yellowed pages revealed the Pokémon he'd seen the night before. He hadn't gotten the best look at it in the darkness, and the illustration lacked colour, but the shape and name were correct.

'Lickitung, the Licking Pokémon.
Habitat: Freshwater Wetlands
Adult Height: 1.2 metres (standing upright)
Adult Weight: 65.5 kg
Average Lifespan: Unknown

Once abundant along the southeast of Kanto, this amphibious Pokémon has seen a sharp decline in numbers since its traditional habitat was largely drained during the end of the Shogunate to make way for farmland. Though this callous disregard for nature is tragic, there is a silver lining in that a Pokémon once considered a common pest has transformed into a symbol of Indigo's conservation efforts.

Lickitung resides as one of the crowning jewels of Fuchsia City's Safari Zone, and is likely to maintain that honour for the foreseeable future. As for its use to Pokémon trainers, though it lacks the bombastic attacking power so many favour the humble lickitung can be a splendid anchor and travelling partner. Their saliva has paralysing properties, and makes a fine glue and reasonably safe anesthetic when boiled down. Though their skin is very sensitive to humidity they are otherwise extremely durable, and with their long lifespan – no individual has yet to pass away in captivity at the time of this writing – and reasonable intelligence, one will find this species to be a stalwart companion.
'

Hoshi skimmed the rest of the page, searching through dietary habits and other facts, but he didn't find what he was looking for. The triumph petered out.

What? But I'm certain I've heard about…

In frustration he flipped back to the front of the book, and sighed when he saw the publication date. 1979? Damn, this is older than I thought… I should've guessed from the language; nobody uses 'anchor' like that these days. For a moment Hoshi sat unmoving – and then he abruptly stood, taking the book up to the front desk.

"Excuse me," he signaled the librarian, an older, balding man who seemed to be trying to make up for it with a bright blue, exceedingly well-groomed mustache. "Do you know if you carry a more modern printing of this book?"

Hoshi handed the tattered thing over, and the moment the librarian caught sight of the title his eyes widened. "Oh, I'm afraid not. You see, we actually had the good fortune to have all of our works signed by the Professor when he went 'round after the war… But after his passing that signature became a very hot collectors item, and, well…"

People stole them all, Hoshi finished in his head.

"This is a recent donation. You could order an updated volume through us, if you'd like? Just pay the printing cost and it's yours to keep."

Hoshi considered it. "…Maybe. I'll think about it." That would take weeks to arrive by mail, and I don't think I can convince Kenny to wait that long on just a random hunch…

But I do have another idea. A potentially
stupid idea, but if I'm right…

The man nodded at his answer. "Alright then. We do have some Pokémon encyclopedias by other authors, if you'd like a recommendation?"

Hoshi glanced back to what was, by a very large margin, the largest section of the library. "Do you happen to know if any of them mention lickitung having an evolution?" There's a reason I went for the best first; the second-stringers would take me days to get through.

The man's brows – a slightly less vibrant shade of blue – came together. "Hmm… Let me check the reference documents…" He kneeled behind the desk, and after a moment's rummaging produced a very dusty cardboard box – and then another, and then a third. "Oh dear, it has been a moment since I've organised these…"

Hoshi stifled a sigh. "I'll wait, then." As the nearly-bald man began sorting for the information he was looking for, he went back to the shelves and entertained himself with a few historical novels.







Hoshi returned home knowing two things:

One, lickitung did have an evolution, a Pokémon named lickilicky. That was what he'd remembered winning that random tournament.

Two, the exact method to trigger that evolution was unknown – or at least he couldn't discern the real method from the dozens of half-baked speculations that he'd found.

It left a bittersweet blue-and-yellow taste on the back of his tongue; he'd been right, but he was also increasingly convinced he'd have to do something potentially dangerous to solve the mystery. I happen to know someone who is very knowledgeable about secret evolutions…

I wonder – will Dabi get mad if I talk to him for a
legitimate, Rocket-related reason?

Plopping down on his bed, Hoshi's thoughts continued to churn. There's no way he's a complete psycho; the instructors seem to trust him, and they're only the weird kind of crazy. But he'd also specifically singled Hoshi out and tried to intimidate him, so it was possible the midget had a chip on his shoulder. Is that just because I yelled at him in the Pokémart that one time, or is he like that with anybody who could possibly connect him to his civilian life?

The empty apartment was silent as he lay still. But while he was still fatigued from last night's – or more accurately that morning's – misadventure, the afternoon sun streaming in was making it completely impossible to fall asleep. After a few minutes the buildup of back-and-forth thoughts became too much, and Hoshi decided to go back out.

Whatever, I'll think about it some more and talk to Kenny before I do anything. If he actually wants to raise the thing, I'll just pass him all that shit the books said and he can decide if it's worth sticking his neck out. But speaking of raising Pokémon…

I didn't actually
get a Pokémon last night, and if I so much as look in Diglett Cave's direction so soon I'll puke. I could probably bag a magnemite or something if I head back out east, or make some money battling, but…

As he tied his boots his thoughts drifted to the conversation he'd had with Nerine, and more specifically that moment when he'd realised he was slowly morphing into a more handsome version of the Ditto – a ball of sweat and anxiety whose first option was always to cuss out his underlings.

That… isn't who I want to be. I might not be the biggest team player in the world, but… I should be able to at least be a respectable leader, right? That's something I can handle. And that starts with… His face moved in an expression he was too preoccupied to name. With putting the other grunts on the same level I put myself. Or at least somewhere close.

And I'm pretty sure Nerine and Puce left empty-handed too – so let's start with that.


There was also Ryan… But Hoshi could only push himself so far from one day to the next. He probably isn't even in town, anyway.







"So – no accounting for rarity or price of any of that, what would you want for your team?"

Route 6 was, he now knew, a lot wilder than the other path out of the city – but even accounting for that, Hoshi found that going into its shallows with a group was a different beast than walking it alone a few days ago had been.

Some of it's the water, I think. The land north of the city was wet, completely flooded from the long rainfall. It made things take twice as long, because while Hoshi's steel toes were waterproof enough to keep his socks dry so long as the water didn't go up past his ankles, Puce and Nerine had no such protection. Which meant they had to go the long way around the soggy terrain, which meant that Hoshi was seeing bits of the route that were extremely unfamiliar to both his eyes, and his feet. But there are the Pokémon, too.

Lot of psyduck and poliwag out on the water. Battles in the undergrowth and treetops, too.
A piercing cry punctuated his statement, some bird warning off an intruder further into the wilderness. Might actually use both my balls today…

"Well, yesterday I was hoping to bag a drowzee…" Nerine answered, and he shook his head to clear his thoughts.

"I'm asking, like, fantasy stuff. Literally any Pokémon, doesn't have to be local, doesn't have to make sense."

The teen made a low whine as she thought, so Hoshi turned to the other woman. "What about you, Puce?"

In direct contrast to the rest of them, Puce seemed to have more energy than usual; despite the implied sedentary lifestyle her home life had revealed, she was taking the short hike without the slightest trouble. "Oh, I haven't- I haven't really thought about it? I think I'd be fine with any Pokémon, really…"

"Sure, but there has to be some you find cooler than others, right?"

She dipped her head, avoiding a low-hanging tree branch. "Hm… I've always thought hitmonchan were cute?"

Hoshi grunted approvingly. I mean, I wouldn't use that specific word, but that's a pretty cool Pokémon.

"What about you, Mister Mutsu?" she questioned back.

"Tyranitar," he answered instantly. "Or a magnezone, those things are gnarly."

Nerine snorted. "You think your junkyard guy's gonna have a larvitar lying around?"

"Hey, I specifically said fantasy." The group dodged around a catfight between two meowth, and Hoshi's fingers twitched. Oh hey, those look kind of strong. Should I..? The two empty balls on his belt felt heavy, their gravity drawing his hand towards them without his conscious input – but he snapped out of it. Probably not the best idea; I already have a normal type, and something tells me those wild cats wouldn't get along with her. Or Crow either, for that matter.

…And I should probably see what Danny has first. You know, do the thing I
came here to do.

A thin, rueful smile touched his lips as he continued. "But if you want to know what I think is realistic… Maybe a growlithe, or a mankey."

Nerine hummed. "Fighting type to counter rock and steel, right?"

"Right."

They passed the powerplant at a slightly different angle than Hoshi was used to, the building pumping a dozen streams of pure white vapour into the air. No electabuzz today. You know, I wonder if Surge ended up giving them that scrawny 'mon… I half-expected to see it during our challenges, but it didn't show. Maybe it had been meant to fight one of the two girls he was hiking with.

"Still planning on challenging Surge, Nerine?" Hoshi questioned, breaking the silence that had formed.

"Yeah," she replied, and he had to catch his breath before continuing. Ugh, still feeling the spelunking from yesterday… Damnit, how does Puce have so much energy?

"Why a drowzee, then?"

"Type advantage isn't everything," she said, and Hoshi shot her a raised brow. "No, really. I'm not gonna build my team around whoever I'm fighting next, that's dumb." She returned his expression, raising her own brow. "I've got a few picked out already. Hypno, venomoth, a dark type if I can find one…"

"Oh, we should ask about houndour," Puce broke in. "I remember my best friend in elementary school had one, and it was the most adorable thing."

"Strong evolution, too," Hoshi added.

Nerine grunted, the sound turning to disgust as she stepped in a puddle. Poliwag darted away as she lifted her now scum-covered shoe. "Damn it. Hoshi, how much further do we have to go?"

"Not far," he answered. "Like five more minutes. You should be able to smell it any second now…"







"Ladies!" Danny greeted as they came through the gate, slurring the word horribly as was his custom. He sprung up from his lawn chair, the edges of his sunglasses sparkling. "I've been expecting you! Come right this way, I've prepared a selection for your browsing pleasure–"

"Real Pokémon only, Danny," Hoshi flatly interjected.

The man paused with his arms open in a welcoming gesture, but a moment later they dropped to his sides as he slumped. "Whipped, kid. They've got you whipped."

Nerine shook her head as her eyes trailed over the massive piles of garbage. "Hoshi, are you sure this guy's legit? All I'm seeing are grimer and koffing, and they're obviously wild."

"He's legit – most of the time. And he isn't dumb enough to try and scam Team Rocket, right?" Hoshi sent an inquisitive look his friend's way, and received a frown in return.

"Fuck me for tryin' to make a little money, huh? Fine! But you just lost your best friend discount, Mister Rocket!"

He stomped off into the detritus, and Hoshi followed with a smile. Hah, like he'd ever give a discount in the first place. "Come on you two, he really does sell the occasional good Pokémon."

The girls followed Hoshi who followed Danny, and a minute later they came to an obelisk of trash, the tower of hollowed-out car bodies and other discarded metal reaching for the sky in a precarious-looking jumble. Hoshi felt trepidation as he approached; the thing looked ready to topple if someone breathed a little too hard.

But the junkyard's owner had no such fear. He walked up and grabbed a car door, opening it and gesturing them closer. "Ladies first," he said with a near-toothless grin.

Puce and Nerine looked at each other, and the latter shrugged. "If this is a weird sex-trafficing kind of thing, I'll have my ekans Poison Sting your balls." Her piece said, the teen stepped forward.

Her words bounced off Danny's smile. "Kinky. And nah, that shit gets you shanked in an alley by an angry pops!" He laughed, and Hoshi rolled his eyes before stepping forward as well.

"Classy," he muttered, climbing through the wreck.

The other side was about what Hoshi had been expecting: a series of large welded-together cages, most of them occupied. The interior of the hollow pile was lit by a single hanging bulb, and he sent a disgusted look at the reminder of his muddy adventure.

"Okay!" Danny exclaimed, the word punctuated by a heavy slam as he closed the door behind himself. "You're looking for battlers, yeah? Got a good selection here – feel free to poke around, these guys are trained enough to not bite."

Nerine walked from one cage to the next, inspecting them with a dismissive eye, while Puce lingered at Hoshi's side. "Um… Could you make a recommendation?" the huge woman asked, finally returning to her normal subdued demeanour. "I don't know most of these Pokémon…"

Hoshi pushed his irritation down. Respectable. Leader. "Well, let's take a look."

The selection was actually better than he'd been expecting. There were the common meowth, oddish, and mankey, but also a few rarer Pokémon – just near the door he could see abra and jigglypuff. Damn, this is way better than the last time he showed me around – I should've guessed from how much bigger the camouflage pile is. The psychic types, in particular, stood out. "Hey Danny," he called. "How do you keep these guys in their cages? Can't they teleport?"

"They can; the trick's to make 'em want to stay. Keep food inside, keep it warm and dark, they love that shit." He rubbed his hands together. "Five hundred for the little ones, six for the big guys."

Hoshi sniffed. "We could catch one for free twenty paces from here."

"That's the thing, kid – you won't." The scrap seller's smile remained wide. "They're too easy to spook. These ones are used to being around people 'cause I've been feeding 'em, but the properly wild ones'll just 'port away when you so much as rustle the grass. Trust me, the cost's worth the saved time."

Hoshi nodded, and mentally placed the smaller abra – but not the big ones; paying a hundred pucks for a few weeks of growth was downright criminal – in the maybe pile. "Eh." He turned to the next cage. "We'll see; maybe if there's nothing better." Kadabra are strong, but they also take a long time to evolve; by the time these guys reach that point, I'm hoping to get high enough to just buy my way into some stronger Pokémon.

A good chunk of the afternoon passed as the three inspected the poacher's wares. Nerine finished first; she was by a wide margin the least impressed with the selection, passing up whole groups without a second glance.

"How much for the venonat?" she asked after making the rounds, wrinkling her nose at the huddle of fuzzy bugs.

"Five-"

"Right in the balls."

"…Three-fifty, and not a cent less. I gotta go all the way to the east coast for those things; they don't like the cold air coming off the bay at night."

The girl's nose continued to wrinkle as she parsed through the man's words, but her eyes said she was considering it. "Three hundred even, and I'll buy a couple speakers or something on the way out."

"Deal!"

As the two shook hands, Hoshi went back to inspecting a herd of three slowpoke. They lounged around a kiddie pool full of shellder, but something told him there wouldn't be any slowbro evolving any time soon. These guys, the mankey, and the ghost type are my top three picks.

The mankey would fill the biggest hole in his team, while slowpoke was just a solid 'mon in general – the evolved forms even more so. And low maintenance. They barely eat.

The ghost was a wild card; Danny himself didn't know what it was – it was just an oddly deep shadow on casual inspection – but statistically speaking it was most likely a gastly. And yeah, that was the most common ghost type around, but it was still an incredible find. The problem is that it might not be a gastly; I don't know anything about rarer ghosts. I'd be flying completely blind.

In the end, he settled on the safe choice; he paid Danny a relatively cheap two hundred for a common mankey, and tossed one of his empty balls. The Pokémon actually jumped for it, eager to get out of its cage, and the ball gave a tepid half-wiggle before ringing out its capture tone.

"Cool," he said as Danny sent another of his official Pokémon, a large muk, in to retrieve the ball from the squabbling gang of perpetually-angry monkeys. "That's two of us done. You feeling any of these guys, Puce?"

The woman looked over from the other side of the secret enclosure. "Um," she stuttered. "Not- not really? I was hoping for something really simple like Potato, but…"

"Get a meowth, then. It's a normal type so you only need to remember the one weakness, and it should be easy to raise."

"Oh… you think that's a good idea?"

Hoshi nodded. "If you're looking for simple, normal types are about as good as you'll get. Meowth aren't bad in battle, either."

"Hold up," Nerine called out. She walked away from where she'd been idly watching a couple poliwag swim in another kiddie pool, her lips turning down. "Puce and me have a plan, and persian doesn't fit."

He blinked. "A plan?"

"I, um, I'm not very good at battling," Puce said, also walking over. "So Miss Rose thinks I should only use defensive Pokémon. So that I can…"

"So that she can stick to a rote strategy no matter what she's fighting," Nerine finished.

"Yeah…"

Hoshi looked between the two of them. Huh. I mean, it's not a bad plan, but it… seems kind of… His brain fished for a way to word it inoffensively, before giving up. It seems like the kind of thing you'd only do if you're an idiot who can't remember the type chart. He didn't say it aloud – but his expression must have changed, because Nerine scowled and crossed her arms.

"Whatever you think, Puce thinks it's a good idea."

"Hey, I didn't say a word. But if the meowth are off the table…" He gestured with his chin. "Slowpoke're right over there." Remember: respectable. "Not that you need to buy something now," he amended. "But this is the best selection we'll be able to get without travelling out to a different city – or buying from the official League exchange."

Danny snorted from where he was leaning against the wall, smoking his shitty homemade oddish-leaf smokes. "Sure, and pay out the ass."

Exactly. Taxes on taxes on taxes. He eyed the woman as Puce fidgeted with the sleeves of her blouse, but then her expression firmed. "You're right – if I want to keep up with the rest of you I need a second Pokémon." She turned to Danny. "How much for your strongest slowpoke?"

Oof, this girl obviously doesn't know how to haggle…







They left, various levels of pleased with their new team members – and with her two packs of quasi-illicit drugs, in Nerine's case.

Not the worst way to spend a sick day, Hoshi thought to himself. Though I'm not looking forward to training this thing up. He'd heard a few horror stories about mankey and their evolution, but they were common enough he was optimistic. Can't be too hard, or nobody'd use them.

They walked in silence most of the way, but as they came up on the city's outskirts Hoshi remembered himself. "Hey Puce, Nerine," he said. "I never said good job for the Gym thing, so… Good job." Oh, fantastic. That didn't sound sarcastic at all.

Puce immediately got a smile on her face, but Nerine narrowed her eyes.

"Thank You, Mister Mutsu! I'll tell Potato you said that!"

"…Yeah." The girl was silent for the rest of the walk into town, but when they neared her apartment she spoke again. "Hey Hoshi, can you stick around for a sec? I wanna talk to you."

Hoshi blinked, and forced his face to remain even despite the suspicion attempting to form. "Sure. Puce, you fine to walk home yourself?"

"Of course – oh but actually, I won't be alone at all!" She drew the second Pokéball from her belt – causing Hoshi to nod at her form; she'd improved substantially from the clumsy movements she'd started with – and released her new slowpoke. "Go, um…" The red light coalesced into a pink-furred mammal, its large but small-pupiled eyes and wide mouth giving the impression of a perpetual dopey grin.

"Um, uh… Bear?" she finished, looking at her companions for support.

Kind of boring, Hoshi thought, but he gave a thumbs-up anyway. Doesn't even look that much like a bear… But whatever. I could think of a thousand worse names.

"Right, Bear! Do you want to walk home with me?" The large woman kneeled, causing her Pokémon to look up.

"Ohhh..?" it sighed… and continued to sigh, drawing the sound out further than even its admittedly large body should have found comfortable.

"Sounds good!" Puce chirped. "My house is this way!" She took a few steps, then waited for the slowpoke to follow – which it did, at a pace befitting its name. Hoshi shook his head in exasperation.

You know, I can't help but feel they're made for each other, somehow…

"Yo," Nerine barked, drawing his attention back. She gestured with her chin, and the two made their way to her apartment without any further words.







Man, this place is kind of depressing…

The girl's living space wasn't dirty, exactly, but it was obvious she wasn't really putting any effort in. No furniture beyond the bare essentials, no decorations, nothing.

"You wanted to talk?" Hoshi opened as the door closed.

Nerine turned. "Yeah." She crossed her arms and gave him another stare, her eyes narrowed and searching in a way that made his spine curl.

"What?" he asked, straining to keep the red thread of anger winding through his head from bleeding into his voice. "I got something on my face?"

"That," she answered. "What's with that… fake cheer shit you've been doing today?"

His nostrils flared. "Hey it's not- I'm not faking it, okay?" I suppose it's good she noticed; that means I'm not just putting in the effort for nothing. But what's with the attitude?

The searching expression failed to fade, and Hoshi's teeth clenched. What? Is cheer a bad thing, now?

"I'm just trying to be less of an ass, okay? What, do you like it when I jump off the fucking handle?" He stepped forward, and immediately the girl took a step back. "Huh? What's this about?"

Then he stepped backwards, the pulse of rage countered by the image in his head: him, fat and unhealthy and going nowhere as the years went by, oblivious as his subordinates all called him the Mankey when his back was turned.

Nerine's expression finally broke, her nose wrinkling as her head lowered a fraction of a degree. "It's just… I can tell you're putting it on, you know? Puce can't, but she's…" For a moment she chewed her tongue. "…As clumsy emotionally as she is physically. I think if you tried this with Kenny or Ryan – or your girlfriend – you'd get some funny looks."

Hoshi took a moment to breathe, moving his eyes from the teenaged girl to different objects around the cramped apartment, trying to convince his brain to move out of fight-or-fight-more mode. "…Are you saying you prefer how I've been these last few weeks? A total hardass?"

She chewed on her tongue some more, and Hoshi's eye was drawn to the slight discolouration of sleep powder under her eyes. "I'm not saying I like it," she eventually answered. "But this is weirding me out. Does that make sense?"

"…I guess?" he said, exasperated. "I just…" He shook his head. "I don't want to be the guy I've been, lately. That's fine when I'm just… some guy, one of the assholes getting drunk after work. But this is more important than that, I'm finally doing something." Another breath, the red waning and waxing in the corners of his vision. Go away. Just fucking go away, this isn't useful. I'm talking to a fucking kid, I shouldn't even be thinking of a fight. "Senior Grunt – that means something. It's something that needs respect, from me before anyone else." Even if I'm a criminal, I'll fucking die before I lose my self-respect – that's what separates a man from an animal.

Nerine's eyes were narrowed again, though the texture of the expression, the little micro-details Hoshi was too emotional to parse out properly, were different.

"Ugh, I'm shit at this," she said. "This emotional shit. I appreciate the effort, but it's… Like, you're still stressing me out, even if it isn't on purpose. Go say what you just did to Casca." She gestured with her shoulders, and some of the awkwardness bled away. "This went in a weird direction, but… thanks for today, I should say. I've gotta… sleep. Try and get my shit together before I try and go at Surge."

Then the awkwardness returned with twice the force as they stared at each other for a moment. "…Yeah, okay," Hoshi eventually said. "I'll see you when I see you – good luck with the new Pokémon."

He began to turn, and she gave a half-hearted wave. "Same to you."







Hoshi returned home for the second time that day – third, actually – to find his girlfriend wrapped up in blankets like an oversized metapod.

"Casca?" he said, pitching his voice gently; if she was actually asleep, he didn't want to wake her.

A bleary noise came from inside the fawx-cocoon, followed by something a little more coherent. "Hoshiii," she whined. "Safeguard suuucks."

He couldn't help a small snort escaping at her tone. "Safeguard?"

"For the powders," she elaborated, sticking her head outside. Oh, wow, if she feels as shitty as she looks that really does suck. "With so many all over the place, medicine wouldn't be enough… Uuugh I wanna sleep so bad but it won't let me!"

Hoshi sat on the bed, placing a comforting hand on his girl's covered body. "You need to go to the hospital?"

"No," she replied, the word quicker and clearer than the others she'd said. "I'm not sick, it's, what's the word… psychosomatic?"

"I don't think that's quite now that word is meant to be used, but I get what you mean." The poisons are there, but they can't actually hurt her. Just make her uncomfortable. "What happened? No, before that, have you eaten?"

She grumbled. "I could eat."

Hoshi nodded, and made his way to the kitchen area. "Soup?"

"Soup," she echoed, and he got to work. Half a minute passed, and as he was putting the water on the stove another long groan sounded out.

"We didn't even loooose…" Casca crooned. "Why does that make it feel worse?"

"Tell me about it."

"Uuuh… I got to the academy pretty late, and my bitch of a team leader chewed me out…"
 
Interlude - Secret Agent
It was a beautiful autumn day, and Casca was coming to realise that she hadn't felt quite this shitty in a while.

It was hard to walk in a straight line – okay, that was an exaggeration. But it felt like it should've been hard to walk in a line. What time did we even get home last night? Six? Seven? I'm running on three hours of sleep, here…

She flashed her card for the guard manning the gate – probably unnecessary, since she'd been coming here once a week since late spring – and he waved her through. As always, walking through the over-wrought things brought a tiny spark of irritation drifting across the back of her skull.

…But today, unlike most days, she didn't have the effort to spare to stamp it out.

Across the courtyard, through the entrance, and then she hung a left into the janitorial areas. The numerous hallways passed in something that wasn't quite a blur, her feet moving on instinct while her mind conserved energy.

Ugh, knees. I thought it'd be my ankles bothering me, but they stopped throbbing before we even left the cave… Now it's all knees.

Her finger tapped the ball at her belt. You'd better make it up to me, you hear?

The thought wasn't serious; as much as she'd love to impress everyone with a strong new Pokémon today, it would be extremely stupid to release it anywhere other than a pre-prepared ground – surrounded by trained Pokémon, who could jump in if it decided it didn't like following orders. Ugh, that's gonna be a pain… Maybe I'll just trade it to Hoshi when he catches something.

That thought, too, wasn't very serious. Her man had gotten really attached to 'his girls,' as he called them – to the point it might be creepy if it wasn't so adorable, she thought with a smile – and she doubted he'd be different with any other Pokémon he caught.

Up the stairs, around a bend, out into the main halls again, and – and she was there. Politics 101 stood out in gold-coloured paint on the heavy wooden door, and beyond… No, don't think about how late you are. Just do it.

Casca straightened her back and twisted the knob, every effort she could muster concentrated on not looking like some piece of roadkill left to rot in a gutter. Heads turned as she walked into the room, and a speck of that effort was diverted to block a wince.

Four other aspiring agents mingled in the classroom, their leader – an actual Rocket Agent – leaning against the teacher's desk. I was hoping June would be a bit later than me, but I guess she came on time… or I'm really late.

"Cascade," Sierra said – not greeted, the woman would never be caught doing something so friendly – in cold tones. "We've been waiting for twenty minutes." The where the fuck were you was left implied.

With relief and embarrassment mixing together in her chest, Casca shut the door. Whew, only twenty… that's not good, but it's salvageable. She forced a smile as she replied, "Sorry Ma'am, late night – I was helping my man explore a deep, dark hole – if you know what I mean."

Cudgel snorted and Mimi giggled, so she counted that as a win. "Oh?" the latter questioned, her voice girlish despite being half-again Casca's age. "Did he find anything in there?"

"Just something with a long tongue," Casca answered, setting off another round of giggles – this time Rose and June joined in, and the trepidation she'd felt since waking up mostly went away.

Only mostly though, since the agent was still fixing her with an icy glare.

Sierra Chispan was one of those classical Paldean beauties – or maybe pre-classical, even. Every time Casca looked at her the first word that popped up in her head was mannish, but that word was usually used as an insult, and that didn't fit. Statuesque was better, but even that didn't have quite the right… texture.

With long legs and an athletic figure topped by a round face, Sierra was beautiful without being necessarily feminine. Her long brown hair, wrapped in a tiered bun and held in place by an oversized pin, did little to dampen the image of someone born in an earlier era. The only part of her that looked delicate were her carefully sculpted eyebrows.

"Cascade," the woman repeated, her voice still icy. "This is a serious matter. I'll overlook this once, but I expect better – if you're late again, I'll be talking with the Senior Executives."

Inside, Casca smiled. Bitch, please. Like we'll even need to do this again, after today; I can see that shit peeking out from the boxes behind you. Outside, she turned her lips down in contrition. "Sorry, Ma'am. Hunting trip went long, you know how it is. Won't happen again."

"Ooh," Mimi interjected. "Catch anything good?"

"A dugtrio. Another grunt found a lickitung, too."

Eyes widened. "Oh, lucky!" "What's that?" "The blond hunk?" "That's not the worst Pokémon. Think they'd be interested in selling?"

Cudgel grunted from the corner, waiting until the murmur passed to speak. "Shit Pokémon. Yours is pretty good, though." The muscular woman tilted her chin. "Would've been useful to have an evolved ground type earlier. Too bad we're ending this today."

"And on that note," the irritated Sierra broke in, taking back control of the room. "Now that we're all here, I'll reveal today's plan of action."

She turned and brought out the objects Casca had noticed – a pile of folded-up uniforms, each one a uniform blue. "Our plant has managed to get them into position; the bulk of Vermilion's Night Folk have fortified themselves in what they believe to be an out-of-use storage space. In actuality, they've barricaded themselves into a Rocket safehouse – one with an escape tunnel, which will be our ingress point.

"As such a large conflict would be difficult to hide from the authorities, we'll not even try. Today's mission will be undercover; the five of you will masquerade as a squad of Jenny, while I play the part of a supporting Pokémon Ranger. As such…" She turned and retrieved another prop, setting an armoured briefcase next to the police uniforms – and as she opened it Casca's eyebrows rose.

Sierra extracted a pistol; she didn't know the official name, but it was easily recognisable as the standard-issue Jenny firearm. Rose whistled, and Mimi's eyes sparkled.

"…We've been generously gifted some special equipment to better sell the illusion. There are also functional facsimiles of the standard police badge, which I'll coach you on wearing, stun batons, personal radios, and handcuffs. You are to subdue the Night Folk in a manner consistent with your cover; avoid lethal wounds and cuff them together after you've subdued their Pokémon. Rose, you will be in charge of interfacing with the genuine policia – you will memorise the passcodes and phone in the 'arrests.'"

Rose nodded.

"Mimosa and Juniper, you will be on powder duty."

Two more nods. By now, they'd done a half-dozen of these raids together; the trivial details had been ironed out already. And yet, she goes through it every time.

"And finally Ivy, Cascade, and I shall provide the subduing force. Any questions?"

Casca sank inside herself as Mimi asked something about their disguises, tuning things out as her eyes fixed to the pistol in Sierra's hand.

You know… I'm not actually sure if I've ever killed anyone before. It was possible that some of her early missions, those frantic days that were mostly a blur in her memories, had ended with someone in the morgue… but if so, it had happened after she left. Hadn't been anywhere she could see.

"Cascade." The agent's harsh bark penetrated into her skull – not unlike a bullet.

"Hm?" she grunted. "Sorry?"

Sierra was too composed to bare her teeth, but the twist of her lips said she wanted to. "Have you been keeping up with your marksman training, Grunt?"

Oh, that. "Yeah. Every third week, like clockwork."

"It will have to do. Alright, suit up and help each other with the wigs – I want this done in time to write up the reports tonight."







Sierra liked to think of herself as uncommonly competent.

No, liked wasn't enough; she had to be uncommonly competent, because how else could she have gotten this far with such stunningly incompetent help?

She suppressed a sigh as the girls assembled themselves into something almost, but not quite, resembling a gathering of professionals. Arcios mio…

"Cascade, help the others with their hair." We've reviewed the disguise module three times in these last few weeks, how are you all still so bad at it? "Mimosa, the badge goes over your heart."

Despite asking for potential agents, the Seniors had given her a gaggle of schoolgirls – oversized schoolgirls, in some cases, but distressingly literal in others.

Namely, Cascade and Juniper. While it was beneath her to dig for such trivial details, she would eat her traje if either of them exceeded twenty years of age. And Mimosa was hardly better; despite being near Sierra's own age, the woman was easily the most juvenile of them.

The second adult was hardly better; Ivy was a blunt instrument – a fact she appeared to revel in, given her apodo. 'Cudgel,' indeed.

Rose was the only one she was remotely considering recommending for promotion; she was an able trainer, level-headed, and knew when to cut the chit-chat. She reminded Sierra of herself at that age, when she'd been approached by two strange foreigners and their powerful Pokémon…

Ah, she thought, I shouldn't be thinking like an old woman so soon. That was a mere six years ago. It did feel so much longer, though. Vermilion was a busier place than Cortondo – much like the Levincia City she'd pined after as a teenager.

But where she'd failed in one ciudad del rayo, her career ending on inglorious defeat, this mirror city had raised her up. As much as her countrymen might spit and claw against the truth, Paldea was a bit part on the world stage, its Campeonas barely fit to be Elites in places like Unova or Kanto.

Better to be a mafioso than a reject, she thought, allowing her lips to turn upwards at the corners as the Rocket Grunts finally lined up.

No hair peeking through, make-up is reasonable, the badges and pistolas are worn properly enough…

"Acceptable," she concluded. "We shall make our way into the tunnels from the nearby sewers." Three groans sounded out, which she resolutely ignored. "Remember to maintain cover, and walk with purpose; you are law enforcement."







"You know, I expected it to smell worse."

Casca turned to Cudgel, her nose scrunching at the verbal reminder of the stink. "Seriously? It smells exactly like I expected." Like a fucking sewer.

The woman – who actually managed to fill out the uniform naturally, unlike the rest of them who needed finicky padding – shrugged. "It's not much worse than an outhouse."

"Your Pokémon disagrees!" Mimi called from behind.

"That's just now Snout looks, the ugly-"

"Arcios me ayude…" came a mutter from the front. "Girls, we are about to see combat. Look alive."

Cudgel rolled her eyes, while Casca just barely resisted the same impulse. "Yes Ma'am." We get it, you're a hardass Paldean gangster bitch. Ugh.

Maybe I
should have called in sick like Hoshi; I'm actually feeling pretty not great. Which might just be the sewer, but either way she was just now realising that coming to a raid on so little sleep might do something to her ability to not get force-fed a round of Acid mixed with various powders. Blah… Whatever, it's not like Candy will care how much sleep I've had.

"That's right girl," she half-whispered, patting the staryu on her top horn. "You've got this, right?" Her comment drew a round of whispers as the other girls reassured their own Pokémon, causing Sierra to send a backwards glare their way.

They continued in silence until the Rocket Agent stopped at a minimalistic – and mildly rusted – ladder, just iron bands driven directly into the concrete wall. "This is the one. Radios on and Safeguards up."

Mimi's vulpix and June's seel applied the protective move as the rest of them psyched up. Last push. After this, I can finally get some well-earned downtime. Take Hoshi somewhere nice, maybe. Casca stepped up to the ladder as a weight settled on her back, followed closely by Cudgel and her drowzee. Hah, you know it's kind of weird, her tired brain mused. I used to think Ivy was jacked, but Puce blows her out of the water without even trying. Less cute, too…

Sierra ascended two rungs up, then signalled them with her hands. 'Up,' she signed. 'Two seconds,' 'two seconds,' 'keep going.'

She and her fellow muscle nodded – and presumably the other two did as well, because the agent nodded and quickly scaled the rest of the ladder. A subtle creak from the trapdoor leading into the building, and Casca began to count.

One, tw-

"On the ground!" their leader's voice came down from the opening. "This is the police!"

Two! Leaping up with her Pokémon clinging to her back, Casca ascended the ladder as fast as her limbs could move, adrenaline flooding her system with an energy she would probably pay for later.

As her head crested the opening Candy fired, nailing something behind while she scrambled. She found her feet, drew her cool electrified baton, and clicked it on with a yell of her own. "Get on your knees, scumbags!"

Maybe someone could accuse her of having a little too much fun, but come on; she was in a Jenny costume, doing cool spy shit while a houndoom and Paldean-electric-bird-she-didn't-know-the-name-of wrecked a bunch of oddish and paras. A goon in the standard tacky Night Folk robes made a grab for her collar, and she hit him with the baton.

A dull fizz, and the dude – or dudette, the robes were completely shapeless – dropped. Oh, I like this. "Candy, watch my back."

An enthusiastic "Huh!" sounded out from the weight on her back, and Casca started cuffing her first KO of the raid – just in time for Cudgel to pop up, Snout the drowzee following just behind.

"Rah!" she roared. "Surrender now, scum!"

Hah, unoriginal! Get your own insults, slowpoke!

Amid cries of "It's the blues!" "Is that a Ranger?!" and "Oh Arcus it's on fucking fire!" the other three Jenny-ized grunts emerged, and things went well – at least until the Night Folk got over their surprise.

Then things got messy.


"Candy, Rapid Spin!"

Her staryu ricocheted between three oddish, knocking two out and putting a third on its back – but before she could reorient on the gloom behind them, the nasty-smelling thing opened its mouth and sucked. Greenish streams emerged from Casca's Pokémon, and the Gloom slurped them down like microwave ramen.

Candy used Rapid Spin again, but it was ineffectual; the Giga Drain had sapped enough vitality that she just bounced off its plum-coloured face. "Damn it!" Casca exclaimed. "Candy, return!"

Her staryu vanished back into her ball, and the Night Folk leader – they had some corny name for themselves like grand vizier or something, but she couldn't give less of a shit at the moment – started to gloat.

"What's wrong, girl?" came a male voice, lightly distorted from the fearow mask he wore to filter out the toxic fumes his group's business produced. "Your pig friends too distracted to help you?" He wasn't wrong; at some point in the melee she'd gotten pressed into the corner. "Sal, Toxic!"

She pressed her lips together as a shower of foul liquid sprayed across her face. Oh Arc that's so bad, I'm gonna-!

While the Safeguard kept the horribly well-named move from not-so-slowly killing her, it did nothing for the smell or lumpy texture. Casca went to her knees, spewing half-digested hamburger across the already-stained warehouse floor.

"That's right, suffer for- wait, you aren't melt- ohshitSaluseSleep-!"

Her pistol barked three times, more muted than she remembered from her last round at the range, and the gloom screeched and spun as it clutched its face. "Toxic is a lethal move, asshole. Eat just cause."

She shot the man in the leg and he went down howling. And fuck you too, she though, putting another one in the gloom's read end. "MIMI! Get over here and torch this thing!"

Three things happened in the next ten seconds; her old street sister came by to help her out, Casca got Candy back on her feet with a Super Potion, and at the same time she had a little mini-freakout in her head.

Oh Arcus that would've killed me without the Safeguard oh fuck oh fuck the other ones weren't like this!

It's probably because we backed them into a corner
, an unhelpfully lucid thought broke in. Or maybe because Sierra is setting them on fire with her big scary demon dog. Or that one guy was just a dick.

A hand on her shoulder almost made her twitch hard enough to shoot herself in the foot, and with a jittery motion she slapped the safety back on. "You okay?" Mimi spoke-shouted over the din.

Casca raised her head, and saw that on the other side of the warehouse Cudgel was breaking a man's legs with her baton. Her head raised further, to watch flames play over a pile of what used to be drugs. Then she looked up to meet her friend's eyes.

Mimi extended her hand, Casca took it, and they combined their strength to pull the curvy woman to her feet. "Just another day on the job," she croaked.

"Right…" Mimi said, leaning in a beat later to speak in a whisper. "Also, my name's Janet today. I mean who gives a shit but opsec, y'know?" She pulled away, revealing the playful smile on her lips. "Also, you smell worse than the sewer. Also, 'just cause' is like, only a thing in movies."

Casca snorted, and very nearly vomited a second time as Toxic-juice got up her nose. "…Like a blue would care about that," she managed, and Mimi giggled.

"Oh, that's good! Anyway, let's clean up."

She cuffed the 'criminal' as Casca sprayed Candy down a second time, exhausting the canister. The staryu shuddered as she stood, limbs limp and drooping.

"Still feeling it, huh?" she comforted, and Candy's gem pulsed once in what she was pretty sure was assent. "Almost done, and then you can rest." She spread her arms wide, breathing in air heavy with Sleep, Stun, and Poison Powder – and all the shit the Night Folk had been making, too. "Let's get this gunk off me; give me a low-power Water Gun."







The fight took less than ten minutes, and while there were a few close calls Casca was pretty sure nobody would be filling a body bag by day's end.

Even if some deserve it – fucking psychos. What, did you think the cops don't shoot people? We didn't even hide the guns, you fucking knew we had them!

She shook her head and sent the thought away with a yawn. Ugh, I'm coming down from my adrenaline high… "Sorry, could you repeat that? Lotta Sleep Powder flying around in there."

The officer – a real one, unless things were a lot more wacky than she thought – nodded, making her beautiful blue curls bounce. "Yeah, I bet there was. Let me start from the top: name and badge number."

Come on, brain- "Yelsa Kigumi, oh-one-nine, vee-see-bee."

The Jenny nodded. "Reason for discharge of a weapon?"

"The gang fuck started throwing around Toxic."

Her nose wrinkled, but the distaste was directed at the masked man having his leg bandaged next to the fleet of ambulances, not Casca – or rather, 'Yelsa.' "Nasty. I'll copy that for 'unauthorised lethal force against a Pokémon.' Last one; any confiscated contraband?"

Casca shook her head. "Nope, the ranger set all that shit on fire. Shame too, this looked like their last holdout in the city. Crazy bi- uh, ranger probably got the money, too." She hadn't, but the fire was as good an excuse to explain the lack of cash as any.

Another nod, paired with a grimace. "Yeah, those types are always half-wild." Whether she was talking about dark types, the rangers, or both wasn't clarified. "That's everything, you get yourself back to the station for a long shower." Casca received a light knock on the shoulder, and then the Jenny turned and walked back to her squad car.

Thank you, Professor Hypno. I can almost forgive the hyper-creep vibe. With real badge numbers and the names to match, it would be hours before anybody noticed a quintet of officers had been in two places at once – if they ever did.

Across the parking lot exclamations rang out as Lilum Ghostwhite, Pokémon Ranger flew away, her foreign bird carrying her despite its mere ten-foot wingspan. One of the interviewers shook a fist, while the other shook her head.

'Don't bother,' Casca read off the woman's lips. 'The Rangers never get written up – as long as they keep the routes clear, the League doesn't care. Let's get these powdermerchants packed away, and…' She turned, and the rest of the conversation was lost.







Twenty minutes later, they were back in a sewer – though this one, at least, was currently blocked off from the rest due to flooding damage.

"Finally," June sighed as she pulled her wig off, letting her shoulder-length, dull purple hair free. "That form stuff took longer than the fight did. This where we ditch the pig skins?"

Rose shook her head, but she did so with a faint smile. "Sorry, but we have to dump those in the active sewers. No guarantee the muk will get it before someone sees, if we leave 'em over here."

June groaned, and Casca was… not quite there, for a minute.

A sharp sound drew her back as Cudgel snapped her fingers a few more times right in her face. "Orange, you there? Wake the fuck up."

Casca waved her off. "I'm awake! Just… starting to feel it. Never shot someone before."

The tall and broad woman snorted, and Casca belatedly realised that she was the only one who hadn't stripped. She hurriedly moved to catch up, unbuttoning the uniform as Rose pulled a plastic garbage bag out of the loose, rain-damaged brickwork. From the bag came a cylindrical container and five bundles of identical clothing.

As Casca peeled the adhesive wig off – taking some of her real hair with it as she rushed – Sierra's unofficial second-in-command sprayed herself down with something that smelled harsh and chemical. It wasn't nearly as bad as even the diluted sewer stink, but it had a note of… artificiality that was incredibly unpleasant.

Scent blocker, don't remember the actual name – damnit, how do the blues put up with all these buttons and straps? She finally pulled off her underwear just in time for the fourth of her peers to hand over the spray.

"Don't swallow any," June said, and Casca gave her a 'do you think I'm an idiot?' look – to which the Vermilion native replied by gesturing with her head, to where Mimi was puking up even more of her guts than Casca had earlier.

"…Noted," she said, and got to work. As the spray covered her skin with a brief tingle the smell of the sewer, the lingering Toxic, and the burning drugs washed away. Twenty seconds later, as she pulled on a plain jogging outfit, the chemical scent had turned into something almost completely unnoticeable.

Done… almost. She took deep breaths as the five of them made their way back into the functional sewers, once again spacing out as they dumped their disguises, the guns, and everything else.

"Shame," Rose commented as the bundles disappeared into the gloop, wads of living slime already sliding up from the bottom to investigate the disturbance. "Those were some good pistols. Can't get pieces like those retail."

"I liked the stick better," Cudgel followed. "What about those?"

"How should I know?"

"I kind of liked the hair," Mimi broke in as the muck started to froth, blue dye escaping the fabric as it dissolved. Normally muk don't eat live meat, Casca thought morbidly, but these ones have been breaking down organic material for generations – if one of us fell in, would there be anything left the next day? "Nice shade of blue. Interesting to be a part of the clone army for just one day."

June snorted. "Don't spread weird rumours. If they were actual clones it wouldn't be so obvious; it's just an identity thing."

The back-and-forth banter continued until they reached what should be a back alley manhole – and what was, actually, that very thing. The trip back to the academy was trivial, and Casca sort of half-slept through the whole thing, not really paying attention.


"Damn, girl," Mimi commented as they dressed back up in their real clothes, still sitting where they'd left them in Politics 101. "You're acting half-dead. Need a re-up on the Safeguard?"

Casca groaned, and June tapped her chin. "The Safeguard might be the problem, actually. Casca, you feel like you might pass out?"

"Yeaaah? Suuucks…" Casca slumped for a moment before valiantly pulling her other sock on.

June nodded. "Ah, that's it. You're exhausted, and Safeguard is seeing that as an imposition on your body's aura from something outside."

"Hey, who's talking about conspiracies now?"

"Hey, it's not a conspiracy. I used to date a guy from the basement, and he would go on and on about auras and math and shit."

"The basement or the basement basement? 'Cause one of those is a lot more respectable…"

"Oh, I think I remember him! What was his name… Bimmy? Jimmy?"

"James, Mimi. Honestly, you have such a bad head for names. I don't even know why you want to be an agent…"

The words washed over her as she dressed and fixed her hair, too low on brainpower to discern one voice from the next. Then Sierra finally came back, took one look at her, and sent her off.

"Go home," she said, something that might be pity peeking through the sculpture of her pale face. "Usually we would remove the Safeguard forcefully, but that would be inadvisable with all the narcotics you've inhaled." Oh, great. "You will still be able to sleep, but the conditions must be natural." She leaned forward, grey eyes steady with authority, and repeated herself. "Go home."

"Don't worry," Rose assured. "We'll make sure Mimi doesn't take your pay and 'forget' to give it to you."

"Hey!" the woman in question yelled. "I wouldn't do that! It was an honest mistake!"

That managed to draw a chuckle from Casca's throat despite the state of her body. You absolutely would. Streets turned you into a shark, girl.







"…And then I came home," Casca concluded. "Wrapped up and tried to sleep until you got home."

Hoshi drew his fingers through her hair. "Sounds like a bad day."

"Not all bad," she allowed. "The pay will be good. The instructors hand out bonuses for action like you wouldn't believe."

He hummed. "That is good. Finished eating?"

Casca looked down at the dregs of soup left in her bowl. "I'll finish it in a sec. Actually… could you run me a bath?"

Her man nodded, then planted a soft kiss on her forehead before leaving the bed. As the sound of running water reached her ears, she looked down at her soup and… brooded.

Because she'd glossed over a little part, right near the end – between her getting home and him doing the same. She had mostly tried to sleep, but also…

She'd replayed that moment over and over, where she'd shot the gloom and its trainer. Not just because she'd shot a man – though she was sure there'd be a few nightmares in her future about that – but because it was so easy to reverse the roles.

If the Jennys ever manage to catch on… If they raid the academy, the way we raided the Night Folk…

She wasn't afraid of getting shot, except in the most abstract sense. No, if it ever came close to that she'd flop down and surrender immediately. But…

But Hoshi wouldn't.
The thought made her feel bad in an entirely different way from whatever it was the Safeguard was doing to her aura or whatever the fuck. Like some muscle deep in the middle of her body was clenching, trying to squeeze itself to death in her core.

She could hear the tone of the splashing change as Hoshi's tiny-ass apartment tub gradually filled. It wasn't- I didn't expect it to be like this. To last this long or be this… strong. She finished the soup, choking it down despite not really being hungry. She'd only felt this emotion once before, and… that was the worst day of her life. Is this what love is? It hurts…

It really did. Hoshi came back and he helped her out of bed, and they had a half-sexy half-exhausted session of bathing. She felt better as she crawled back into bed, nude and slightly damp.

"Thanks, babe. I feel like a princess…" A sleepy princess. Hopefully I'm 'naturally' tired enough to nod off, now…

Hoshi smiled, and planted another kiss on her forehead. "You are a princess, sunshine."

She whined. "Hoshi, that was terrible. That's like, a grandma-level thing to say."

One last kiss, this time on the lips. "Made you smile, though."

As the sun set through the drawn blinds, Casca felt her man's breathing even out beside her.

…He really is my man now, isn't he? And as much as the thought made the thing inside her twist and writhe, that meant she was his woman. It was meant to be… easy. Easy come, easy go, no big attachments. Fun. I'm not having fun, right now.

And yet, the thought of it stopping made her want to die. Fuck. Casca Kichi is meant to be a bad bitch super-spy… She's not meant to fall in love…

Eventually whatever arcane mysticism the move was judging her by allowed her to sleep, and Casca drifted down into a deep sleep. If there were dreams in that darkness, they didn't survive the morning light.
 
4.04 - The Power That’s Inside
Just another day on the job.

Honestly, it was kind of surreal. The first few days after his Gym Challenge had been just as normal, and they had felt that way – spelunking excluded, obviously. But today, it felt like something should be different.

I guess I just hadn't processed it. I've got a badge – in the system at least, if not physically. That puts me in the top fifty percent by default. Or maybe it's that shitty camera footage from this morning… And still, here he was, doing the same old job. Or at least mostly the same; he could legally order the machop around now, which was…

Not particularly interesting. It's not the same as battling. There's no rush, no spark to just having them carry shit around. The thought made him smile to himself. Damn, I'm turning into an adrenaline junkie. A brief, smeared-together snippet of the pinnacle flashed in his head, the thing he'd seen as he'd eaten breakfast mixing with various tournaments he'd caught over the years. I wonder… how far could I take it? A fake license won't let me into the Nationals, but how many gyms could I take down? At a second badge level, one fighting type would probably be enough to see me through Pewter… then swing up to Cerulean for the third…

How far could I get from the
top? There was a part of him that wouldn't stop asking it, the question running around the edges of his brain as one hour bled into the next

He knew it was childish, but he couldn't help but trace the map of Kanto's eight Pokémon Gyms out in his mind. Completely ridiculous. What's even the point, thinking about something so impossible… Even if I was a real trainer, it would be a pipe dream. The Champion Series, that grand event where those who'd conquered eight Gyms and won eight badges faced the Elite Four, saw maybe a handful of challengers a year. It's arrogant, picturing myself up there with… those people.

The day went on. By some quirk of fate they were repairing the exact bit of semi-collapsed sewer that Casca'd mentioned the other day, and Hoshi kept his eyes peeled for signs of her and her peers' passing. He didn't see any, but it made the work at least slightly interesting.

Also making it interesting was the Ditto – or at least the way Hoshi was watching the man. Like everything else he was acting perfectly normal; it was the context that flipped everything around.

I hate the guy. But… do I really? I definitely don't respect him, that's for sure…

But maybe I've been thinking about it wrong. If Everheart was less of an ass, would I respect him more?
His gut instinct gave a begrudging answer: no, probably not. His old manager at TauroBurger had been more soft-spoken, and Hoshi had resented the orders even more. Okay, but I was younger and stupider back then… Ugh. I don't know what I'm aiming for, short-term. I still want to do this leader thing right, but what the fuck does that look like for me?

Do I even know what it looks like for someone else?








Despite the hard day's labour, Hoshi came home feeling pretty good. It was probably just the contrast with yesterday's exhaustion – but whatever the reason, it still put a spring in his step. "Casca?" he lightly called as he closed the door. "You still in bed?"

"Bathroom," came the muffled reply, and he grunted back before flopping down on the couch.

The TV flicked on and Hoshi paid attention for about three seconds before tuning out. More speculation about the Moltres. I was hoping-

Then it started to play, and his attention was forcefully dragged back. Damn, they're really milking this thing…

Someone – probably a Cinnabar native – had managed to catch a dark, grainy, blurry, and shaky glimpse of the moment the typhoon had broken with their tricked-out Pokégear, and it had been functionally looping on every single news channel when he'd woken up that morning. Hoshi watched the screen intently, unable to tear his eyes away despite having seen it several dozen times now.

A great plume of fire emerged from the dense clouds, painting the bottoms of them bright red and frying the camera's brightness sensor. Another, and another, each growing in size – and then the sky cleared as a massive shockwave bowled over the anonymous cameraman. Shaky blurs as they frantically pointed the camera back to the action – it was impossible to make out any detail of where they were standing, their identity completely obscured by how far the thing was zoomed in. But finally, after a second's worth of eternity, the camera focused just in time to see a woman mounted on a dragonite next to a massive, flying gyarados – and they were tag-teaming a third Pokémon. Something that Hoshi's eyes could see was much smaller than the false dragon, but that some other, more primal part was interpreting as the size of the entire sky.

Even through the unfocused lens of a 'gear camera, the Firebird looked like a force of nature.

The spell ended as the program cut back to their anchors, and Hoshi flicked the television off with a sigh. I get why they're showing it so much – nobody's gonna change the channel with that mid-action – but they've exhausted every possible thing to say about it. Might as well literally run it on a loop at this point, and have some real news in the corner.

Hoshi just sat for a moment, zoning out and playing that shittily-filmed ten seconds over and over in his mind's eye. That was Clair. It had to be… So why hasn't the League started parading it around? 'Indigo Champion singlehandedly saves the region' is too good a headline to pass up, so who's stopping them? It was possible that the Dragon Empress herself was suppressing the story – she hated interacting with the media – but something about that felt off.

Maybe they're waiting to see if it comes back for a rematch, hah.

The internal laugh wasn't even slightly humorous.

He turned the TV back on and flipped it to some kid's cartoon for a little background noise, then got to work cleaning his cooler out. Empty plastic wrap in the garbage, slowly melting ice – not concealing any stolen electronics today – in the freezer to re-solidity overnight, and cans in the recycling bin. As he scrubbed the inside, a presence sidled up behind his back.

"So, how's work?" Casca asked, her lips brushing against his cheek.

"It was work," Hoshi replied. "Same as it always is. You hear the news?"

He could feel her eye-roll. "How could I not? They've got it on every channel." She stepped to the side, joining him at the kitchen sink. "I can't believe it was actually the Moltres. It just feels so, like, cliche, you know?"

He let loose a chuckle. "I'm gonna give Danny such a shit-eating grin next time I see him. No way Cinnabar could do that, for two months straight. We'd have all smelt the soot, rain or no rain, from Pallet to Cerulean."

She hummed back, and for a moment they simply enjoyed each other's company. Then he finished scrubbing down the inside of the cooler, and dried his hands.

"Still feeling shitty from the other day?" You were in there kind of a while

"Bleh," Casca replied. "A little? I'm like, ninety percent sure I'm over it, but it's hard to tell – better to not risk it, so I'll wait 'till Saturday to go in."

Hoshi grunted back. "Fair enough. I was gonna go talk to Kenny about that lickitung, but if you want company..?"

She smiled. "Actually, some fresh air would do me good; mind if I tag along? His old nana is adorable."







They managed to dodge any trouble on the short trip north to Kenny's apartment, but something notable did happen: Hoshi felt an actual chill blow across his face, the cold of the bay finally overpowering the lingering heat of a legendary Pokémon.

Huh, that's way more reassuring than I'd have thought. I guess things are officially back to normal.

The thought put a smile on his face the rest of the way – though as they got within spitting distance the expression began to twist into incredulity. Is that..?

"Oh my shit," Casca whispered. "Is that a hoverbike?"

It absolutely was. Hoshi was neither a biker nor a tech junkie, but the thing was unmistakable; nothing else had that absurdly front-heavy silhouette, a massive engine block taking up a good 70% of the vehicle's mass. A man's legs stuck out from under the carriage, and as they approached the rest of Kenny's oil-spattered body emerged.

"Yo," he greeted, his eyes gleaming. "Hey Boss, was expecting you'd come around. What d'ya think?"

Hoshi stepped up the concrete steps separating the house's yard from the city's sidewalk, his expression shifting between different emotions. His house doesn't have a fucking garage, he's got it on a jack on his porch. No way that doesn't stain the wood.

"It's… Nice to look at," were the words he eventually settled on. "Expensively nice. This was your whole payday from the job, wasn't it?"

Kenny nodded and stood, still looking pleased. "Almost the whole thing, yeah. Eight grand; got it second hand. Great fuckin' price."

Hoshi was torn. On one hand, it was a hoverbike; it was objectively fucking cool, and there wasn't a single part of him that could dispute that fact. And on the other, it was a hoverbike; a ridiculously overpriced piece of gaudy machinery that was, in ninety-nine out of a hundred situations, broadly inferior to a normal vehicle.

Okay yeah, the ten-year-old in him reiterated, but it's a fucking hoverbike. Holy shit, that's fucking cool.

Casca grinned, placing a hand on Hoshi's upper arm. "Only eight? That's a steal!" But then the smile dimmed as she became pensive. "Won't it get stolen, though? Like this is a good neighbourhood, but…"

Kenny waved her off. "Bubbles likes to dig in the sand out back, so I got the idea to make a little hidey-hole under the house. 'S like a basement, put a light in and everything."

Hoshi's brows raised. That is exceptionally illegal, and there's no way you bothered to check where the water, gas, and power lines were before mucking about. The construction worker in me is appalled – but I can't say there isn't a clever bit of lateral thinking mixed in with the near-suicidal stupidity. "Your sandshrew's doing good, then? What about the other one?"

Kenny's face lost a touch of its enthusiasm. "Hm. That guy's…" He licked his lips, then spat as he accidentally caught a stray fleck of motor oil. "Pah! Gah… Well, I guess I kinda see why Blondie didn't wanna catch 'im. When I asked Nana what kinda Pokémon he was she cussed 'im out, said he was no good – oh, but he knows a strong move, though!"

Hoshi grunted. "Yeah? That's good. Actually, I wanted to talk to you more about that; something about the name lickitung was really bothering me that night, and-"

He was interrupted by a call from inside the house. "Menard!" the muffled voice of the grunt's grandmother sounded out, powering through the solid wooden wall. "Mister Bubbles is scratching up my floors again! Get him outta here!"

"Whoops, uh..!" For a moment Kenny looked frantically between his bike and the front door, choice paralysis evident in every motion.

Hoshi snorted. "We can watch your bike for a second."

Without another word the bald man dashed inside, leaving Hoshi and his girlfriend standing alone on his porch. They looked at each other – and after a second Hoshi broke first, giggling.

"Hah! The look on his face!"

"I know, right?" Casca circled the machine, leaning down to tap the gauges on its dashboard. "Wow, this thing looks complicated. How would you even drive something like this?"

Hoshi followed her, inspecting the controls. Part of it looked like a normal motorbike; the handles were the same, with throttles on either side, and the seat was shaped pretty much identically… But the rest of it was like something he'd imagine in the cockpit of a modern fighter jet.

There were a half-dozen knobs and an equal number of levers, three large and three small. Worse, the controls were labeled in the Galarian alphabet – I guess that makes sense, they only really make these things in Orre – so he could only barely understand them.

"I think this one's 'altitude,' but I'm not sure." No wheels at all, not like most of the ones I've seen in movies and shows… I wonder, is it rated to go over water? He straightened up, making a circle around the hoverbike as he spoke. "You know, when I first saw Kenny I thought he looked like a biker, but this still feels kind of weird."

"What feels weird?" Casca asked, still staring at the controls.

"Like… I'm not sure how to word it. We've hung out a bit while training our Pokémon, and he's always wrestling wrestling wrestling, you know? It feels weird to find out he's got a second hobby he never talked about."

His girlfriend hummed. "Huh, didn't know you were friends."

Are we? "I wouldn't go that far… But I'm trying to take this team leader thing seriously, you know? These fuckers are all slackers, so I've gotta step up." He turned, drawing his eye across the Kaneth family's porch. There were a few herbs in pots along the railing, and an old swinging bench on the far side. "I'd like to say I know the other grunts a little, even Ryan, but now I'm having second thoughts." Is it the granny who keeps the plants, or Kenny? I can't even answer such a simple question.

Casca rose, passing him to seat herself on the white-painted bench. "This isn't really about Kenny and the bike, is it?"

Hah. Completely impossible to keep anything from this girl, I swear… He followed her lead again, sitting on the gently rocking piece of furniture. "It… is and it isn't."

She knocked shoulders, silently inviting him to continue, and he took a breath.

"I've been trying to do something different the last few days, and I'm not sure if it's working or not. There was a bit in the cave, where I realised that the way I've been acting… riding everyone's ass, yelling if they don't train… I started to remind myself of my boss, and that wasn't a good feeling."

He glanced at his girlfriend, and found her squinting off into space. "You know," she said, "I didn't think about it at the time, but you were kind of acting differently in the cave? You were pissed when you left, but when you got back… Yeah, I'm definitely noticing in hindsight."

"Yeah." A wan smile moved his lips. "But yesterday, after the trip with Nerine and Puce, Nerine stopped me to tell me off. Said the cheerful act was creeping her out."

Casca laughed softly. "Really? And what'd you say back?"

"…Honestly? I don't really remember. I kind of freaked out at her…" Then it was his turn to laugh, the sound barely above a whisper. "Actually, I'm pretty sure she told me to talk to you about it. But then I got home and learned you almost died, and…"

Casca leaned on him, her weight comforting. "Hey, c'mon. I came home without a scratch on me."

He smiled. "Yeah." The view from the porch wasn't bad; all the houses in this section of the city were old, from when Vermilion was little more than a fishing village. Each one was unique, built by a different family, and so long as he didn't turn his head too far he could almost transport himself back into that simpler past.

…But simple doesn't necessarily mean better, does it?

"Yeah," he repeated. "So I'm not sure what to do. Do I go back to what's natural? Or do I keep trying to… be a bit friendlier? I gave Puce a little compliment and she beamed; I wouldn't have thought to do that without putting effort into it."

Casca tapped his thigh with her finger. "Man… That's a tough question, Hoshi." He opened his mouth to reply, but she kept talking. "It's a little like being undercover, though, isn't it? You want your mask to be as close to your face as possible – 'cause if it isn't people can tell it's a mask. So the only answer I can give is…" Her hand left his thigh to give him a weak punch to the shoulder. "You've just got to work at it. Tone it down a little bit, but… keep it in the back of your head?"

Then she stood, stretching. "And it's not like you need to be too friendly; you're their boss, you know? Some things are meant to suck, and some people need a little kick to get going – oh, like a motorcycle!"

She turned back to beam at him, and he snorted. "Come on, that was a stretch."

"I'm not wrong though, right?" Her smile turned a touch more serious as her voice lowered. "If you'd been less of a hardass in training, I probably would've slacked off a bit more. I don't find it fun the way you do… and that means I might not have come back without a scratch, last night."

She leaned down, and Hoshi met her kiss with his own. They parted a moment later, and the smile was back to its full intensity. "So you'll just have to do both things. Be a softer hardass."

He snorted again. "That's an oxymoron…" Then his eyes sharpened. And… "And it's been way longer than it should be since Kenny left. What the fuck is he doing?"

Hoshi stood, and took two steps to rap on the door. "Yo, Kenny! You forget we're out here?"

A muffled shout from inside made his eyes sharpen even further, and he opened the door. The house's foyer was empty except for a scattering of shoes. "Hey, what's with the yelling? Kenny, are you-"

He cut himself off as his subordinate appeared from around the doorframe, his face a curious combination of pale and red. "Oh, hey Boss. Sorry, give me a minute to-"

Kenny was in turn cut off by something – a straw broom, Hoshi realised – smacking him on the back of the head. "Out!" shouted his nana from behind him, nearly entirely hidden by the wall and her grandson's bulk. "Out of my house this minute! You'd better hope my husband doesn't get home soon, or you're in for a walloping!"

The broom made a sharp sound as its straws cut the air, but it was obvious she couldn't swing with enough strength to actually hurt the man. Kenny's face twisted, his head jerking erratically between looking at Hoshi and turning to face his grandmother.

But unlike before, Hoshi had nothing to say to dispel the man's paralysis – he was equally frozen. What the fuck is- what do I even say?

The situation was obvious, but a solution refused to present itself. Kenny remained fixed in place for a lingering second, before he appeared to resolve himself. "Sorry ma'am," he said, not looking backwards. "Just looking for Huck. Didn't mean to scare ya."

"My son's off on the warpath, along with all the decent men! As you well know! Out!"

He stepped forward, and Hoshi made way as Kenny exited back onto the porch. "And stay out!" his nana cried, finally visible for a split second as she slammed the door shut.


A few minutes later, Hoshi found himself straining to keep his end of the load steady as he and Kenny finished manhandling the hoverbike into the back yard. He let it slip down to the sandy grass in time with his subordinate, the heavily muscled man setting it down with surprising gentleness. Kenny took a moment to catch his breath, wiped his brow with the back of his hand, and then spoke.

"There we go. Thanks."

"Yeah." Do I ask? Hoshi's eyes found Casca's own, but all she did was give a subtle shrug. Yeah, same. "So… about what I was talking about earlier."

The grunt's face scrunched in a half-scowl, but Hoshi was pretty sure it was just the situation and not actually directed his way. "Right." Kenny reached down to brush some imagined dust from the bike, chewing on his words. "Something about the lickitung, yeah?"

"Yeah." Saying that word a lot. Kinda awkward… "I was sure I'd heard something about it winning a tournament somewhere before, but when I looked into it, it turned out I was wrong – it wasn't lickitung, it was lickilicky, its evolution."

"Huh," Kenny grunted, his expression evening out. "Didn't know it had one'a those. It's pretty strong, then?"

Hoshi shrugged. "No idea; I couldn't find any actual shit on the evolution, other than that there was one. On the Captivation and Rearing of the Yfel Monstre says that it only evolves if you 'feed to it a young child only just weaned from they mother's tit,' but I think we can rule that one out."

The exaggerated accent he'd put on for the quotation made the man snort, which transitioned to a moment of half-stifled laughter as the tension in his frame was released. "Damn, that must be some shit from way out east. Where'd you find that, the bottom of a well?"

"The library. No idea where it was from – the author didn't put their name on it or anything – but it must've been from, like, three centuries back." Hoshi cocked his head. "Before they invented spelling, at least; I only had the strength to slog through it 'cause it was so fucking out there."

"I bet." The man looked down at his bike, then back up to Hoshi's face. "Uh… About that thing with Nana, there…"

"You don't have to say anything," Hoshi interrupted as Kenny hesitated. "Family shit's personal. You don't owe me that."

"Yeah…" Kenny sighed, his huge muscles looking almost deflated as his body sagged. "Yeah. Thanks." There was a moment of awkward silence as none of them spoke, but then the man perked up. "Hey, you wanna give this thing a go 'round the coastline? Should be able to fit all'a us if we squeeze."







"So what do you think? Sell it or raise it?" Hoshi yelled over the din of the engine. Holy shit, this is fucking intense.

Vermilion's coastline sped by in a blur. While he had only been inside a vehicle a handful of times over the course of his life – despite the booming population they were still rarer than in Kanto's heartlands, where the streets were actually built for them – he was damn sure it hadn't felt like this. I should probably be wearing a helmet.

"Dunno yet!" Kenny yelled back. "Haven't had 'im out much – he eats like a motherfucker!" There was a disconcerting pull as he drove them around a large stone jutting from the sand, whatever technology responsible for the bike's hovering also keeping them steady in the seat. Behind the two men came a higher exclamation as Casca yelled.

"Whew! Do that again!"

"You said you don't know about the evolution, but what about the guy himself?" Kenny continued, slaloming a bit around the beach. "Ryan thought he was shit enough to not bother capturing; was he right or wrong?"

"Eh," Hoshi grunted before raising his voice again. "Opinions are mixed! Professor Oak said lickitung was a good defensive Pokémon, but it was in an old book that-"

"The Professor?! Damn, Ryan musta been full'a shit then! I'll give it a shot!"

Hoshi opened his mouth, but then closed it again. While Kanto's first and forever Champion had definitely been the strongest trainer in his day, and he was definitely one of the most influential zoologists in history by weight of inventing most of the field himself, Hoshi didn't quite rate his personal thoughts on battling as highly as some people did. Whatever. That's as good enough a reason as any. "Sounds good! But actually, I did have a plan to evolve it!"

The bike flipped backwards – again, with that stomach-turning gravity is doing something weird effect keeping the bike's seat as down – and Kenny slid them into a smooth stop.

"Yeah? What's up?"

Coasting in place, some of the stabilising effect was lost; the bike was suddenly a lot more wobbly, and Hoshi put his feet down to keep from losing his lunch. "Guh. You know, you don't drive like this is your first time. How long have you actually had this?"

"Bought it yesterday," came the answer as Kenny fiddled with the controls, doing something that made the craft lower to the ground. The engine, too, lowered, moving from a screech to a purr. "But my uncle was crazy about the things. Used to take me to this little kiddy racetrack, and I just… kept up with it, I guess." His fingers flexed, the dark leather gloves he was wearing compressing the textured rubber of the bike's handles. "But seriously, what's this plan 'a yours?"

"I thought I'd ask D- uh, Professor Mokusen. He'd know about weird evolutions, right?"

Casca's grip around his waist got tighter. "Hoshi…"

"What, is it that bad of an idea?"

"Professor..? Oh right, the machamp guy!" Kenny exclaimed, ignorant of the tension behind his broad back. "That's a great idea! I'll come with you!"

The bike turned as the engine once again roared, Hoshi's feet leaving the ground. "Huh..? Wait, you don't mean-?"

"Great timing too – it's something to do while Nana cools off. Plus, the bike should be able to go even faster on concrete!" They blasted forwards, only the antigravity keeping Hoshi and Casca in their seats.

They both yelled as the acceleration continued, and Kenny laughed as they crested the beach, catching a half-second of air as they transitioned from steep-ish incline to flat land. "Yeah, that's the spirit!"
 
4.05 - Easy Days, Hard Days
Bleh. Food poisoning sucks…

Always cook your veggies real good…

There were certain days where everything came easy. Where his steps were light and his thoughts sharp, where everything was effortless. As though reality itself were nodding its head in his direction, approving.

And then there was the opposite, those days where progress ground to a halt… where it went backwards, even. Like two weeks ago, when the partially-reconstructed ectoplasm chamber had melted to slag for no discernable reason. Or the week before that, when one of the less… personable machoke had gotten frustrated and mangled one of its trainers.

But of course, most days were neither the first type nor the second – no, most days were simply normal. Where Professor Mokusen worked tirelessly from sunrise to sunset, and was rewarded with a tiny-but-noticeable step forward.

Today was, Arcus preserve his sanity, shaping up to be one of those days. "And you're certain you don't want to even attempt my methods?" spoke the figure to his side, large and slow steps matching the scientist's small but quick ones.

Mokusen hissed through his teeth. "Of course not." You mound of blubber. "Even in the absolute best case, it would mean halving our number of kadabra."

Kiribo Kimigawa, grand-nephew of Kim Kimigawa, tutted behind Mukusen's ear as though he were speaking to a child. "And how many will we have doing it the 'proper' way, with things moving so quickly? Time is in short supply, Professor."

Most of the time, the professor found the man preferable to his older relation – he was competent enough at his chosen vocation, and didn't stick his nose quite so far into where it didn't belong. But then again, most of the time is only most.

He reached his destination and stopped, watching through the glass as Harry and the other kadabra meditated. "Even if we only get a handful of alakazam, that's preferable. Don't discount my kadabra – I'd pit them against any of the League's psychics." Each of them were hand-selected for their potential. I'd rather have three alakazam and twenty kadabra than ten – or fewer – alakazam alone. "I have no need for shortcuts, Kimigawa. Please escort yourself out."

A light, faintly wheezing sigh. "Fine, be like that. But if you should change your mind- ah, who's all this?"

The note of intrigue in Kiribo's voice caused Mokusen to turn, and he immediately grit his teeth as he beheld three additional interlopers entering his small bastion of sanity. "Magnificent," he hissed. "Senior Grunt. Why are you here?"







"Senior Grunt," Dabi said, his clenched jaw adding something ominous to the words. "Why are you here?"

Despite Casca's numerous warnings, Hoshi still found it somewhat difficult to take Dabi Mokusen seriously as a gangster. Although he was clad in obviously fitted clothes, the man's absurd shortness and slight figure made him seem like a child wearing his father's suit. Or his mother's, in this case.

"My subordinate here recently caught a lickitung," he replied, getting straight to the point. "I did a bit of digging, but couldn't sort the proper way to evolve it from all the dross."

Dabi's eyebrows disappeared under his thick glasses as he scowled. "And this is my problem how?"

Hoshi shrugged, projecting a confidence he didn't quite feel. We're surrounded by other people – he's not going to do anything crazy while there are other Rockets around. That was the theory, anyway. Time to use that ego against him. "Do you not know? Huh, I thought you'd be able to belt it out in a second." Another shrug. "Well, if you don't, then there's no reason for me to borrow any more of your time. Good evening, Professor." He turned, slowly taking a step.

"Hey, I didn't come all this way to-" Kenny began, but a jab to the ribs from Casca shut him up.

Dabi, meanwhile, growled under his breath. "As if I'd fall for such obvious bait…"

Hoshi turned back. You say that… but here you are, replying. "Sorry? Didn't catch that."

He could see the angry little man all but grinding his teeth at the perceived insult – and then Dabi smiled, the curve of his lips painted with a subtle coat of malicious glee. "If you must know, I don't know the exact trigger for that Pokémon's evolution."

Kenny groaned behind Hoshi's back "Oh, c'mon…"

"But, it should be simple enough. Of course, I have my own work to take care of, all of it much more important than tending to a grunt's Pokémon." There we go. Bait: swallowed. "Yes… It just so happens your appearance might allow me to kill two birds with one stone."

Dabi turned to the man next to him, who Hoshi had been ignoring up until that point – and as the Senior Grunt focused on the man's face, he was struck by its familiarity. Is this Doc Hypno's son? Damn, I'm starting to come back around on my evil clone idea; that's the only way I can think for that guy to have reproduced.

"Kimigawa," Dabi continued, confirming Hoshi's assumption. "Since you seem so very concerned about our psychic Pokémon, why don't you do something about it yourself?" He jabbed a finger into the man's chest. "Take these grunts and go catch me some abra. At least twenty, and try to get exemplary ones; I've no patience for mediocrity."

The man – he's dressed more like a movie detective than a scientist; is he an Agent or something? – frowned, brushing at where Dabi's finger had touched. "Professor, you well know that I've my own duties. I came down to give you advice on my own accord; I cannot simply drop everything-"

"As the Head of Research and Development I order you to obey, Rocket Hunter." Hunter, huh? That isn't one of the titles Casca mentioned, it must be really niche. "Don't come back without those abra."

The frown deepened. "Uncalled for." Without another word to the scientist the younger Kimigawa turned, coat hugging his expansive frame too tightly to whirl, and took a step Hoshi's way. "Greetings – pardon, I'll speak to you in the hall, I find by continued presence here becoming somewhat nettling."

The man swept past, steps lighter than Hoshi would have assumed from his weight, and made for the door. From the side came another groan. "Boss, come on, I didn't sign up for some make-work bullshit," Kenny complained. "Twenty abra… Where are we gonna get the balls for that? They live out in the bush, no way we're gonna get that done in an afternoon!"

The grunt's words brought the faintest ghost of a smile to Hoshi's lips. Actually… But he put the thought aside for the moment, smoothing his expression and bringing his focus back to Dabi. "He's not wrong. Twenty abra's a bit much, for something so simple."

"Too bad," Dabi replied.

His insufferably smug tone made a muscle in Hoshi's cheek twitch. Okay, now I'm starting to get pissed off. He stepped forward, getting close enough it would have been uncomfortable without the pulse of his heart driving out any other emotions.

"Hoshi," Casca whispered into the back of his head. "Fingers."

I've worked with this guy for three years. It's like you said earlier: nobody can hide their real personality. He's a fucking worm. "Come on, Professor," Hoshi said. "This is kind of petty, isn't it? Just 'cause I was fooled by your act? Isn't it a good thing, that you managed to look so pathetic? That I thought you were an entirely different person with your spine straight?" He leaned forward, emphasising the difference between their heights. "What else would the disguise be for? Congratulations, you got me."

"Hey Boss, this is getting kind of weird," Kenny muttered in the background. "I take it back, I'm chill with the job – everybody's lookin' at us funny, let's just-"

"Hoshi Mutsu," Dabi spoke, his glasses reflecting the harsh fluorescent lights coming down from the room's oddly-high ceiling. "You did better in that farce of a tournament than I'd have expected."

Hoshi blinked. That… wasn't what I expected him to say. I thought he'd be more emotional, and I could… With the anger giving way to surprise, the last ten seconds suddenly seemed immensely stupider. Get him to blow up and lose some face. Damnit, this was dumb – and it's not like I can take it back.

So he tightened his jaw, took a small step back from the scientist's personal space, and replied. "Thanks?"

"Yes. I can see why the Senior Executives promoted you. I'm sure you've got a lot on your plate." Where the fuck are you going with- "I'll be sure to let them know you're on an official assignment for me, so they don't try and give you too much work." He flapped his hand in a gesture of dismissal. "You may go, now."

Hoshi saw red. "Bastard," he breathed. Even if I get Danny's help, there's no way I'll get this done by Saturday – you're fucking with my next assignment! Something tugged at his arm, but the sensation was far way and unimportant compared to the smug fucking quirk on this fucker's lips.

"Oh?" Dabi said, each muscle under his skin moving in a caricature of mockery. "You aren't angry, are you? How inconsiderate; I'm giving you my knowledge, after all. A few hours of work pales in comparison."

Hoshi's fist moved – and then stopped. Without a single movement from Dabi one of the balls on his belt had opened, and the grunt was suddenly face-to-chest with a near-legendary Pokémon. The machamp held his hand with one of its own, and despite pulling with all his strength Hoshi couldn't move at all.

Huh, came an idle thought as the rest of him panicked. This one is much taller than that other machamp he gave away… Ah, Elizabeth, that was its name.

Then came the pain.

The huge machamp tilted its head minutely, the motion travelling down its arm as the smallest of twitches – and Hoshi's caught fist felt like it was exploding. A different shade of red washed through his brain as his legs threatened to give out, pain and rage combining and compounding as a hiss escaped through his teeth. "Fucking… Kill you, you…"

"So angry," Dabi continued. "I'd ask how you functioned, but that would be beneath me." Then he turned, giving his attention to the kadabra behind the huge glass window. "Andre, please show them to the door."

Like a man picking up a kitten, Hoshi was twisted to face the door and dragged forwards by the machamp's quartet of arms. Casca and Kenny hurriedly backed up, and within ten seconds they'd been dumped in the hallway – or Hoshi had, at least.

The door clicked shut softly, and the Senior Grunt gathered what was left of his dignity to heave himself up.

"Holy shit, dude," Kenny said, his face twisted between several different expressions. "How's your hand?"

"It's fine!" Hoshi answered. "It's- it isn't broken, I think, just bruised." Down to the bone – no, the bones are probably bruised, too. His right hand was starting to swell, the skin on the back and parts of his knuckles turning an unhealthy colour – but the anger was finally doing something useful; sending the pain away to some far-off corner of his brain where it was easy to ignore. "Fucker."

Casca sighed, the sound torn between exasperated and relieved. "I know you don't want to hear this right now, but-"

"You told me so, yeah." Arcus. "Fucking- let's just go." Before I do some other stupid shit. Fuck! "I think I've got a way to get abra pretty fast, but not tonight; I'll meet you tomorrow sometime around four, alright?"

Kenny shot him an incredulous look. "Arcus above man, your fist's fuckin' broke. I'm driving you to a damn hospital."

"I don't- I don't need-" Hoshi tripped over his tongue, cradling his arm. "Fuck. Let's get outside, I'll think about it."

They turned, but were interrupted.

"A-hem," came a voice from the other side of the hallway. Hoshi took a moment to attempt to compose himself – which was partly successful, now that there was nothing to be angry at other than himself – and turned back. Oh, right. This guy. How the fuck did we miss him? He's gotta weigh three hundred pounds.

First-name-unknown Kimigawa pushed off from the wall. "Oh my," he said. "Ran afoul of the Professor's temper, then? Let me guess: you made a crack about his height?"

"…Something like that," Hoshi answered. "Sorry, I didn't catch your name."

"Kiribo Kimigawa, the Psychic Hunter," the man introduced. He stuck his hand out – the left, so wasn't a complete asshat at least – and Hoshi shook with a subdued grimace.

"Sorry, I'm not feeling up for a chat right now."

"Of course, of course." He talks like the doctor, too. All poncy and shit. "We'll have plenty of time to chat tomorrow…" The man formed his own grimace. "Since I'll be forced to accompany you."

"Yeah," Hoshi grunted. Ah, there's the pain. Right front and centre… "I'll… We'll…"

Casca stepped in. "We'll meet you here tomorrow, sir. C'mon Hoshi, let's get you upstairs – there's a first-aid station somewhere near the entrance I'm pretty sure…"

The man spoke one last time, calling across the length of the hall a moment before they shuffled around the corner. "It's on the north side, right near the battle court!"

Kenny yelled something back, but at that point the pain was taking up too much headspace for Hoshi to process. Okay, definitely broken somewhere – fuck, this is my throwing arm too.

I've got a new mission in life: beat the piss out of Dabi fucking Mokusen.








By the time they pulled into the sidewalk going up to Kenny's house, the painkillers were mostly doing their job. Hoshi could still feel the dull fiery heat trapped inside his cast, but it was a two rather than an eight, if he were to rate it out of ten.

"Uh…" Kenny stammered, awkward. "Man, that was kind of fucked up. I don't really know what to say."

That's a face I've never seen him make before. Casca dismounted and Hoshi followed, and he gave his not-quite friend a nod. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"…Yeah. Guess you'll be practising left-handed throws, huh?" A plastic smile, and then the man drove up his lawn towards the back of the house.

Hoshi took a breath. "Man, I really fucked that up, didn't I?"

"Well.." Casca said, hesitant. "Honestly? Yeah. Could have maybe not done the macho-dude thing with a guy you knew could make machamp."

Not that a machoke couldn't have done the exact same thing – or a damn machop, for that matter.

Well, at least I learned one thing: my Pokémon
aren't trained enough to come out when I'm threatened. Not against a two-metre-tall powerhouse, at least. "Sorry I didn't take you seriously. I just… there's a Dabi in my head, one I've known for years, and I… mistook that one for the real guy. I didn't think he'd be able to fake having an entirely different personality for that long, that consistently."

His girlfriend rubbed at his shoulder. "Well, now you know. You said you had a plan to get those abra real fast?"

"Yeah. Danny sells 'em, and I bet I can get him to trade enough for…" A chill wind cut through his flimsy summer shirt, and this one wasn't nearly as comforting as the last had been. "Well, I'll explain it when we get home."

The two of them trudged down the street, the good feelings from their earlier joyride burned down to dregs.







Fucking krabby nightmare, was the first thought that Hoshi had when he opened his eyes. As it had a handful of times over the past months, he'd been jolted awake by a red shape emerging from a tan seabed, a point of blue growing in the centre of its face before he was summarily dumped out of rest. Ow. Fucking hard to sleep in a cast, was the second.

But despite the awkwardness of dressing with one hand, he was feeling weirdly optimistic about the day.

Part of it was what Casca had told him the night before – he would actually be getting paid for this, if not nearly enough to make up for the fucking broken hand – and another was that his girlfriend was awake enough to join him for breakfast. Poison must be properly out of her system.

"So," he started as they ate. "You were pretty quiet last night when I laid it all out. I promise I'll listen this time: is this a dumb idea?"

She was silent for a moment, chewing her cereal with deliberation before answering. "…It's not dumb, but I think it's… A bit risky. Kenny won't blab, and if you say Danny won't either then I'll believe you, but there's this other guy…"

"About that. You've never met him before?"

She shook her head. "Nope. Never seen him, never heard of him. Kiribo Kimigawa…" Her face scrunched in thought. "I think I've heard the words 'Psychic Hunter' at some point, but I can't say where."

"Well, no reason he has to know. There'll be three of us, and it makes good sense to split up if all we're doing is hunting abra."

"Four, Hoshi. Obviously I'm coming with you."

Hoshi opened his mouth, but the withering look he received changed his mind.

"…Alright, I guess that makes sense. But don't stretch things too far, alright?"

"Same to you, stud."

Hoshi hummed affirmatively, and they continued eating. "Ugh," he eventually groaned as they were cleaning the dishes. "Everheart is gonna gonna fucking implode when I show up with a cast. He's been giving me the side-eye for taking so many days off…"

Casca responded with a quick peck to his cheek. "Good thing there's so much work, or you might just get fired."

"Oh, don't even joke about that." The word fired had sent a white-cold chill down his spine. "Assuming I get about eleven grand like I'm estimating, my legit job still pays twice as much hour-to-hour."

"Your first Rocket job paid half, while you were working another one full-time. I made twenty grand this month; you'll get there."

The number buoyed his spirits a little. "Right. Well, I should get going – you'll meet me at the academy?"

They shared another kiss. "Four sharp. Let's both try to go a day or two without some kind of adventure, okay?"







Everheart did, indeed, rip into Hoshi's ass for showing up in a cast.

Though at least half the man's vitriol was directed at someone imaginary, so that was nice. "And you didn't get the plate?"

"Guy didn't have a plate, sir." Thank you, asshole biker gangs, for being such an easy target. 'Run down in the street by some asshole' was a much easier pill to swallow than 'got on the wrong side of a machamp' – and it was a lot less his fault, too, which was a nice quality for a fabricated excuse to have.

"Damned criminals. When will the blues get asses in gear? We must have ten of those gangs cruising through town before breakfast!" Hoshi's boss turned his pink gaze up as he chugged from his waterbottle – despite the decrease in temperature, he still went through water like a dehydrated golduck. "Pah!" he spat. "Whatever. You can still work right? This wasn't on the job, so don't think you'll get any more paid vacation!"

Fucking ass. The thought was tepid; Hoshi felt more than a little contrite, since visiting Dabi had been his own idiotic idea. "I can work. I just broke a few knuckles; the arm's fine. I can work."

The man grumbled – and then got a suspicious glint in his eye. "Hey Mutsu, you aren't pulling my leg are you? Broken knuckles sounds a lot like you got in some dumb drunken brawl."

Hey, I've been clean for… going on four months now. "Do I look like I got in a fight, sir?"

Everheart's eyes narrowed, but after a moment of scrutiny he let his employee off the hook. "Whatever. We're burning daylight! Step to it, Mutsu!"

Suppressing his grimace, Hoshi obeyed. He spent the day knocking down and then partially rebuilding the shitty Pokémart – the shoddy thing had half-collapsed in the rain – leaning on the company's Pokémon a little harder than he maybe should've; a few times they got confused and almost broke something, but he managed to get through the day without any major fuckups.

He also got through the day without 'accidentally' dropping a beam right on Dabi's stupid kiddie haircut, so he gave himself a pat on the back for that, too.







There was a certain trepidation in Hoshi's chest as he approached the school. Or maybe its mostly in my fist. Hah.

The guard let him through with only a glance, and… Oh, thank Arcus. Hoshi had been half-expecting some new problem to have arisen when he got to the Electric Academy, but he walked through the gates to see a skinheaded grunt, beautiful woman, and hopefully-not-as-fucking-weird-as-his-uncle fatass already waiting, seemingly discussing something in high spirits.

Okay Hoshi, remember: don't insult this guy, don't even breathe too hard on him. Let him say and do whatever dumb shit he wants. You are a fucking calm little stream, blue and happy as shit.

And for fuck's sake, don't call him a fatass, even in your head… Even if he kind of looks like a damn chestnut. Damnit, now I can't unsee it…


"Hey," he called as he got within speaking distance.

"Hey Boss!" Kenny replied. "Good news: we don't have to pay for balls!"

"Yeah, Casca told me last night." 'If he's using his position to make us do shit,' she'd said, 'Then it's an official capture mission. I've only done like two of those – I prefer people type missions – but we should be able to get the supplies on credit. Basically free, as long as we actually get the Pokémon.' "That is good. And, uh, hey there, Hunter Kiribo. I hope I didn't make too bad of a first impression."

The fat- the Rocket Hunter waved him off. Getting a second look at him, Hoshi's own first impression was reinforced; the man looked like some sort of noir detective, the kind that's been out of work for a long time before getting back in the game from, like, a murdered housewife or something.

He was more attractive than his uncle, mostly by virtue of being properly fat rather than the latter's horrid mixture of bloated and skeletal. And he's only got like, a fifth of the leer. He just looks like an ass, rather than a sex crime made flesh. He wore a dapple-patterned brown greatcoat, the spots scattered and the colour subtle enough that he would probably disappear against most types of foliage. His chin was dusted with a sparse goatee, only slightly more than stubble, and both it and his eyebrows matched his slicked-back hair; dark brown, like chocolate. If Hoshi were forced to guess his age, he'd say early thirties.

If this is what Hypno looked like when he was younger, then the years hit him like a fucking truck. Maybe his brother got all the best genes.

"No need to worry," Kiribo replied. "I've seen many people come out of that room equally maimed. But pardon, allow me to reintroduce myself…"

He shifted, striking a pose, and Hoshi's heart sank just a little bit. Another weirdo, just… fantastic. At least-

The thought cut off as the heavy coat shifted, and Hoshi caught something his initial inspection had missed: the man was openly carrying a sword – or at least a sheath, with the same dappled brown pattern painted on its smooth surface.

A dangerous weirdo. Joy.

"I am Kiribo Kimigawa, Rocket Hunter – or as I prefer to be known, the Psychic Hunter!" One hand pointed skyward, while the other went to the handle of his sword, and Hoshi felt his chances of getting through the day without something ridiculous happening plummet.

Casca clapped, genuinely enthusiastic, while Kenny badly stifled a laugh.

"…Hoshi Mutsu, Senior Grunt." I wonder if the instructors only admit people with a screw loose. The thought made him look back at the past few days, and his lips thinned. I can't even use myself as a counter-example, can I? "I'm… Sure we'll all get along."

"Excellent! Now as you may have guessed by my moniker, I specialise in hunting down psychic Pokémon; though it be a grand misuse of my talents, Professor Mokusen was not incorrect to assign me this task. Verily, I'm certain we shall have this done by the first hours of the week's first dawn!"

The word verily slapped Hishi in the face, sliding down his skin like a slimy fish. Arcus. I take it back; he isn't a noir detective, he's an overgrown middleschooler playing pretend. "Sounds great. Since you three look like you've been here a minute…?"

Casca nodded. "Yup, got the balls. We're only allowed to take ten at a time, so if we somehow manage to fill 'em all in a day we'll have to come back."

"Or clock out," Kenny commented. "I've heard stories about abra hunting. Good thing there aren't any cliffs 'round here…"

Yeah. Even if they can't attack normally, I can think of a hundeed ways to fuck somebody up with just teleportation… "Hopefully we don't have too much trouble – but speaking of the terrain…" Hoshi looked down. "Kenny, those shoes aren't good; the north is swampier than usual from the rain, your sock'll be drenched twenty seconds in."

"I've got the bike, man."

"Still. We'll get you something good and waterproof on the way – I'll get something better too." My boots are fine for walking up to the junkyard, but tromping through the route proper? I don't feel like experiencing trench foot today. "And Casca, good thinking with the sandals, but you should probably get some boots too."

She rolled her eyes. "Hoshi, I can handle a little water."

"The man is not unwise, young lady," Kiribo chimed in. "Those waters conceal all manner of nasties – leeches and submerged thorns and such. You'll want something like these." He extended a foot and tapped his heel against the ground, producing a heavy thump.

Huh, Hoshi thought, impressed despite himself. Those are actually even better than I'd thought looking casually – and worn, too. Maybe this guy's more competent than he looks.

"Eh," Casca grunted. "Fine. Been a while since I went shoe shopping anyway."

After some cajoling Kenny also agreed, and Hoshi left the academy grounds with the faint hope that today wouldn't be harder than he could imagine.
 
4.06 - On the Hunt
Shoe shopping had gone uncharacteristically smoothly, and so when Hoshi stepped into Route 6 he did it in a brand new pair of properly watertight hiking boots, courtesy of Moonside, Kanto's premier specialist shop for hiking, camping, and fishing – or so the sign said; he'd gone right to and from the shoe section without much in the way of browsing.

Though maybe a nice sturdy coat should be something to start thinking about. I'm going to be out of town looking for Pokémon more often, and doing that in a city jacket would be… unwise.

An image of himself being doused by a territorial golduck in the middle of winter played through Hoshi's mind for a fraction of a second, before he dispelled it with a breath.

"Alright!" he exclaimed, turning to the capture team he'd been saddled with. Casca was looking fine as always, her pack bulging with pokéballs and her stature improved by a smaller size of the same boots he was wearing. Kenny had gone with a slightly less expensive option, but he hadn't been completely wrong to say he didn't need new boots; atop the hoverbike, he and his own bag were well away from the swampy surface. He'll thank me if he needs to dismount, though.

And last but largest, Kiribo seemed to be in high spirits. I'm kind of excited to see him in action; how strong do you have to be to get the title Rocket Hunter?

"I've been thinking on the way over, and this is what I think we should do: Kenny, you're a big, loud annoyance with that bike of yours."

"Oi."

"No, that's a good thing. If you go in a big circle around the edge of the route, you'll drive a bunch of Pokémon towards the centre – right into the three of us. We release our Pokémon, spread out a bit, and then… just get to it, I suppose." Hoshi paused, turning to the relative stranger. "That fine with you, uh…" Wait, does he outrank me? I know that Senior Grunt is equal to Agent, but… "Should I call you sir, or would you prefer something else?"

Kiribo struck a pose, extending his hand forward. "Please call me by my title, the Psychic Hunter! Ho hoh!" He punctuated the laugh with a short bow, raising his head to show a toothy grin. "And that plan is sound enough! While my partner and I prefer stealth when hunting alone, I'm content to follow along with the group."

He straightened up, and Hoshi forced the touch of exasperation the performance instilled in him away. "Good. Let's release our Pokémon then." Wonder why his posing annoys me, while the instructors doing a much more elaborate song-and-dance doesn't…

Eh, it's probably just because they're hot.


"Indubitably!" "Yeah, alright. Bubbles, other dude, let's do this!" "Come on out, Candy!"

Hoshi's good mood returned as he palmed one of his pokéballs, adding his voice to the mix. "Guts, Crow! You'll be learning to hunt today, so look sharp!"

In a series of flashes and warbling sounds their Pokémon appeared. Crow flapped down from the air to land on Hoshi's shoulder as he caught their rebounding balls, his other girl scenting the air as her whiskers twitched.

They've definitely grown since I got them. He reached up to rub at his zubat's face and neck. Not quite full size, but we're getting there. "Everything good? Let's-"

His mouth ceased moving as his attentions turned away from his own Pokémon, and he caught sight of what Kiribo had released. Arcus above, I am so glad I've managed not to call him a fatass out loud.

If he'd bothered to think on it, Hoshi would have assumed the man's partner to be either a dark or bug type – the natural enemies of psychic Pokémon. Something stereotypically 'cool' to match his demeanour, like a scyther or houndoom. Or maybe a ghost, as a distant third choice.

But it seemed that the Psychic Hunter subscribed to the notion that the best person to catch a thief, was another thief.

With an angular five-pointed head set atop a bipedal body that mixed mammalian fur with insectoid chitinous armour… there was only one thing this Pokémon could be. That's an alakazam, the fully evolved form of kadabra. It wasn't nearly as shocking as seeing a machamp had been; of all the 'secret' evolutions alakazam was grouped with, it competed with golem for the title of most common, with both forms even appearing in the wild with some regularity. But it was still surprising.

And the other two apparently agreed, Kenny and Casca letting out a pair of gasps. "Woah! Hardcore!" Kenny exclaimed. "You and that professor guy – do all Rockets have Pokémon like that? Will we get one?"

Kiribo laughed, while his Pokémon let the praise roll off its shoulders – actually, it isn't paying us any attention at all. The 'mon was just standing, oddly light on its feet, staring upwards as its hat – because of course it was clothed, Team Rocket was insane – cast its face in shadow.

"I'm afraid I have no answer for you, young Grunt!" Kiribo replied. "You will simply have to earn it, by deed or by trickery! Now…" The man rested his hand on the hilt of his sword, and his Pokémon, too, seemed to become… more dangerous, somehow. A gust of wind artfully tousled the two's clothing, Kiribo's long jacket flapping while the alakazam lifted a three-fingered hand to keep its cowboy hat from flying away.

The movement caused its vest-like garment to open wider, and in an eerie mirror to the way Hoshi had noticed its master's sword earlier, his eyes were drawn to its chest.

He almost took a step back on instinct. Hanging on a cord from its neck, separated by knots to keep them from clinking together, were seven silver spoons. Each was twisted into a different shape, but they were obviously a match for the two peeking out from the holsters slung around the Pokémon's hips.

As much as the image of an alakazam dressed as an old-west-style gunslinger should have been amusing, that one addition turned the whole thing on its head. Okay. This guy- these guys are legit. Even the man's posing suddenly became less comical.

Hoshi breathed out, adding his own belated gasp. "Arcus. I feel like we're kind of out of our league, here."

The other Pokémon agreed. While none were outright afraid, they were all subtly angling away, not looking the alakazam in the face. He could feel Crow's bristly hide forming goosebumps under his fingers.

Unlike his Pokémon, Kiribo seemed to soak in the attention, spreading his arms like a tree attempting to take in more sunlight. "Oho! There's no need for that, Senior Grunt! Come, let the hunt begin!"

He sauntered off, the alakazam absentmindedly following, and there was a beat where the rest of them were silent. Then Casca leaned in, and whispered. "I was gonna ask everybody to help me with my dugtrio, but now I'm a little too intimidated."

Hoshi nodded. "I get it. I was gonna do the same thing with Venus."

"Oh?" Casca asked, some of the trepidation under her expression fading away. "Did you really name your mankey already?"

"Yeah." Wow, he isn't stopping at all. Does he even realise we're not behind him? "C'mon girls, let's go – Kenny, the trees get pretty thick at the edges, so don't go too far."

"Duh," Kenny answered, and with a roar the hoverbike took off westward. A moment later he stopped, realising he was outpacing his slow Pokémon, and continued at a more reasonable pace.

Hoshi squinted at the waddling lickitung. Maybe we should trade for the day? he thought as he watched the man go. Nah, it's fine. My girls probably wouldn't listen to him anyway. With a slight shake of the head he began trotting after his senior Rocket, and without prompting Crow lifted off his shoulder and flapped ahead.

"Good girl. If you hear a sudden pop nearby, that's what we're looking for."

"Do you think she understands?" Casca asked as she handed him a trio of balls.

"Maybe." If she doesn't, she will by the time we're done. Crow was, as far as he could tell, quite a bit brighter than Guts. Speaking of… "Guts, you too! We're looking for something that smells like a younger version of that big guy in the hat! You understand?"

The rattata paused from where she was inspecting the brush, tilting her head at her trainer. She chittered, then resumed bounding through the low undergrowth. "Hah…" he softly laughed. Yeah, she might take a few days to get it down.

As they walked beside each other, Casca whispered again. "Hey, do you think this one's fucking his Pokémon?"

Hoshi had to nearly strangle himself to keep from guffawing. "Casca, please."







Route 6 unfolded under their feet, growing wilder as the minutes passed. As they further spread out Hoshi was content to let Kiribo take the lead – he had his hands full just keeping his rat in line. "Guts! No, no battling!"

The rattata looked back at him, confusion evident on her face. She turned back to the oddish half-planted at the water's edge, then back to him, and chittered.

"No, we're looking for abra, Guts. Not oddish, not pidgey, abra. Like before!"

The rattata kept looking between him and the sleeping grass type, and Hoshi sighed. I wonder if Ryan had the same problems training Jorm to hunt… Well, at least Crow is doing fine. The zubat actually seemed to have already gotten the gist of it; she'd already found an abra, though it teleported itself out of the fallen, hollow log before Hoshi could decide between trying to toss a ball through the awkward opening or just send one of his Pokémon in.

But the encounter showed that his hunting strategy was at least slightly sound, so Hoshi's spirits remained high. "That's right, back off. Good girl – here, a little treat."

Two more encounters passed much the same as the first; Crow would circle a spot and return, then Hoshi would investigate. He found the abra – one nestled in the crook of a tree and another hidden in a clump of grass – and threw a concealed Rocket Ball. Neither hit; the damn things were fast, teleporting away before the capture tools could hit.

But it's fine, Hoshi thought to himself as he gave his rattata a little chunk of granola bar. We'll get better at it, and the abra will get tired, too. Already Guts was learning to focus on the goal; she was actually sneaking now, rather than playing around chasing bugs.

We're making good progress. Once I get used to throwing with my off-hand, I might not even need to-

The thought was cut off as Hoshi heard a mighty splash to his right. His head whipped around, and he saw Casca sputtering in a pool of hip-deep water about thirty metres away. Wait, but she should be on the other- ah, right. Teleportation.

He made his way over and gave her a hand. "You alright?"

Casca stood, then spat to the side. An aggrieved poliwag spat back, and both of them got a facefull of water.

"Blah!" "Gah – Crow, Supersonic!"


A minute later the two were back on shore, wringing out their shirts.

"Damn," Casca commented, "Those little things can put up more of a fight than I thought…"

"Yeah. I'm just glad it didn't know a proper Water Gun. Crow, you okay over there?"

The zubat squeaked, obviously unhappy with her wetness. Guts, in contrast, seemed just fine; she was making circles around the pond, obviously waiting for the tadpole to resurface so the fight could continue.

"It's gone, girl – it knows when it's beat. Come over here and we'll…" A thought occurred. "Hey Casca, where's Candy?"

His girlfriend wrung another fistful of pond scum from her top before answering. "Where the abra was, probably. Which would be, uh…"

Hoshi pointed. "That way?"

"Probably? One second I was throwing the ball, next I was upside-down in a pond. Not a lot of directional continuity, there." She sniffed. "Oh man, I just know I'm gonna get a cold from this…"

"I'm sure you'll be fine," he contradicted. "How're your feet?"

"My feet? Babe, I was underwater, my feet are…" Casca paused, looking down. "…Bone dry, it feels like? Huh."

"Hah. Knew it was worth the money – but we should probably go find Candy before she gets herself in trouble. Hey Crow, could you-?" Before he could finish the sentence the zubat was already lifting off his shoulder. "Good girl." Hopefully the others are doing better; it's been an hour and we're still at a big fat zero.







"C'mon, man!" Kenny yelled. "One Lick, just one!"

His Pokémon extended its tongue – and then stopped.

"Gah!"

The abra, still thinking itself safe in the crook where the tree's trunk split, cocked its head. Its fox-like face stared blankly at the lickitung, eyes nearly completely hidden by plush fur like a newborn kitten.

"C'mon…" You stuck your tongue out, like, super far when you sparred with Bubbles! You could reach that abra easy..! Kenny shared a look with his sandshrew as he palmed his face – but then he brought his hand down to slam against his thigh. "Fine then! You don't wanna use Lick, then…" He pointed forward. "Zen Headbutt! Knock it down!"

Some people thought Kenny was dumb, just 'cause he was big and had a shaved head and liked to fight. And okay, he wasn't the sharpest hook in the drawer… but that didn't mean he was stupid. And he definitely wasn't stupid when it came to fighting! His lickitung – gotta think up a name at some point – eyed the tree, rolling its massive tongue back up with a slurp.

Then the four-foot-tall salamander monster lowered its head, and its eyes suddenly glowed. With a cry of "Buuuh!" it smashed its skull into the wood – and the little bit of form training Kenny had instilled did wonders, because the tree cracked in two, the abra flailing as its perch fell out from under it.

Then it teleported with a subdued pop, but that was par for the course. Kenny grinned, palming his pokéballs. "Return!" he commanded, and Bubbles and… and…

Come on, what's a good one… Aha!


Bubbles and Savage transformed into red light and were pulled inside. Kenny revved the engine and shot off, cheeks flapping slightly as his grin refused to leave.

After spooking what must be twenty abra he'd started to notice a pattern; they liked to hide in the same kind of spot over and over. One who liked tall grass would stay in tall grass, one who liked riding on a psyduck's back would go in the direction of psyduck, and one who liked climbing trees would stay in the treetops.

And there were only so many trees. He accelerated, grinning as the engine's roar sent pidgey and mankey scattering. He didn't even bother to look for abra on the ground; now that he'd found a strategy that worked-

A flash of orange-red. There it was! "Go!" he exclaimed, sending Bubbles, his faster 'mon, out. The pudgy shrew appeared and hit the ground running, already familiar with what was going on. "Poison Sting!"

One hand caught his sandshrew's returning ball, while the other reached into his pack for an empty. He had two balls left of the three he'd taken after splitting 'em with the Boss's piece, and if they got filled as fast as the first, he'd be done in time for supper!







The four Rockets met back up roughly two hours after splitting, just as the evening sky was beginning to turn golden.

"Hey Boss," Kenny greeted from atop his nice, dry bike. "Man, you got put through the wringer, huh?"

He wasn't wrong; Hoshi was too wiped to even get angry. "Yeah. Fuckers keep sending me into the drink." This is the fucking cave all over again. "How many you got?"

"Two!"

Well, at least one of us managed something… "Casca, you've still only got the one?"

"Yup," she replied, voice flat.

It turned out that Casca's throw before that first teleportation had been successful; when they found Candy, the staryu had presented the filled ball with a triumphant "Hu-yuh!" Shame she didn't get a second one, but that's better than me…

Hoshi was still sitting at zero, a fact he attributed to throwing left-handed. "I didn't get any. That's three between the three of us."

"And I have captured four!" Kiribo announced as he suddenly appeared, with a level of bombast completely unchanged by the hours-long slog. Hoshi jolted, the zubat on his shoulder squeaking in equal surprise. "Shall we continue? The day's light has yet to pass, and my masculine vigour remains undepleted!"

I'll shove your fucking vigour right up your masculine – ugh, whatever. Hoshi sighed, running a hand through his damp hair. "I think I'm about ready to call it for the day. Kenny?"

The grunt replied with a shrug. "Yeah, let's not turn this into another cave adventure. Runnin' low on gas, too," he said, tapping the dashboard in front of him.

"Sounds good!" Casca chirped, becoming more animated as the prospect of trudging through further swampland disappeared. "Though you know, it seems kinda anticlimactic to just go home…"

Hoshi snorted. "An anticlimax is fine by me… But I'll bite; what're you thinking?"

"Well, I've still got this dugtrio sitting on my belt…" As she spoke she drew the ball, expanding it. Immediately there was a wobble, the captured Pokémon attempting to break free and failing against either the ball itself, or Casca's grip. "Any chance you boys could help a girl out?"

She batted her eyelashes at the Rocket Hunter, and Hoshi needed to restrain himself from snorting again. Hah. Come on girl, you'll need to put in a little more effort to hook a fish that chunky-

"A dugtrio? Marvellous! That will be quite useful in our quest – indeed, we might manage to complete this before week's end!"

…Okay, maybe not. But I can't say he wouldn't have agreed without the honey, either.

Kenny's lips pursed. "That a good idea? Won't it just, like, dig away?"

Hoshi and Kiribo both opened their mouths to answer, and after a moment the Rocket Hunter bowed out – literally. "By all means, after you!"

"Right. Well…" How to word this without calling him a dumbass between the lines..? "The inside of a pokéball is a kind of energy-space, and it's apparently really pleasant to be in if you're a Pokémon. I couldn't tell you the mechanics behind how it happens, but a newly-caught 'mon is sort of… pacified, a little bit. There's a reason our guys didn't try and fight us when that ass released them, even though they were fresh captures."

"Indeed!" Kiribo picked up. "There shall be five or ten seconds where this dugtrio is becalmed; the only reason to fear at all is that it is an evolved Pokémon."

Casca nodded. "What they said. Probably won't have to beat it into submission, but why take the chance? Better to release it in a circle of other Pokémon."

Kenny paused in thought, and then nodded back as his confusion was placated. "Huh, didn't know they did that. You gonna join in, Boss?"

Hoshi considered it. Venus isn't evolved, so it shouldn't really be necessary… To be honest, the biggest reason I didn't release her today was because I'm afraid that if she sees a group of other mankey and bolts, I probably wouldn't be able to pick her out to recapture her. "Maybe," he concluded, "If the first round goes smoothly."

Kiribo clapped his hands. "Let us begin then!" He released his alakazam, and Kenny did the same with his sandshrew and lickitung. Candy walked forward, and Hoshi sent Crow and Guts in to complete the circle.

"Okay, on three," Casca said, hefting the ground type's ball. "One. Two…

"Three!" she cried, releasing the dugtrio. There was a moment where the red light formed into something long and sinuous, like a many-finned fish, and then the Pokémon compounded the similarity by diving into the soft earth like it was liquid. A fraction of a second later three smooth cylindrical heads poked up, fully returned to flesh and blood.

Hoshi felt the briefest moment of intense jealousy, but put it to the side with an ease that surprised him. Huh, I expected to be more caught up on this – whatever, I'll examine that later.

"Hey," Casca cooed. "It's me, big guy-"

"Girl," Hoshi grunted, causing the woman to blink.

"Really? How can you-? Anyway," she continued, "You recognise me, right?"

The dugtrio – which Hoshi could tell was a female because of the larger size of its three bright, bubblegum-pink noses – bobbed its two side heads while the middle one remained perfectly still. Its eyes narrowed as the heads swivelled, taking in the surrounding Pokémon.

"Yeah, I caught you." Casca spoke softly but sternly. "That means you work for me now, okay?"

The dugtrio moved slightly – and the ground trembled, the vibration subtle enough Hoshi wouldn't have thought twice about it if the situation were different. It hissed, separate sounds harmonising into something larger than the sum of its parts.

"Not happy, huh?" She smiled, patting Candy on her top arm. "I get it. You must've thought you were winning that fight… But Candy here got back up a second later, and we beat your whole colony without trouble."

The ground shook again. Casca, babe, maybe don't rile it up like that on purpose? Hoshi whispered under his breath, trusting his zubat's sharp hearing. "Crow, if it attacks you'll surprise it with Astonish, then use Supersonic."

"Oh? You're feisty, girl – I bet you were the queen bitch of your cave, huh?" Casca paused to take something out of her bag, and as she unwrapped it Hoshi recognised some brand of fruit bar. Guts immediately switched attention to the food, and Hoshi quietly admonished her as his girlfriend took confident strides forward.

"But don't you want better than that?" she questioned, holding out the bar of solid jelly. "You've probably lived your whole life going from one muddy tunnel to another, eating little bugs… Come here, taste this."

The dugtrio hissed again, but the sound was more subdued. Hoshi grit his teeth as the Pokémon glided forward one inch, then another, the ground opening and closing in its wake like the solid earth was waterlogged mud. For a moment its three heads jostled each other – and then one took a bite, its mouth obscured behind the bulbous nose.

"Like it? You'll eat even better if you stay with me. Good food, a nice home, not having to worry about something walking into your den and eating you… Pretty good deal, huh? Can you handle not being the boss if you get all that?"

Another hiss – or more accurately a growl, lower in both pitch and volume. The trio of heads bobbed as they took turns devouring the snack, and a second later only the wrapper was left. Casca took a step back, and again the dugtrio swivelled around until it could see its entire encirclement at once.

It grunted, the sound even deeper, and Casca took that as acknowledgement.

"Good enough for me! Return… Quake!"

The newly-named Pokémon disappeared into its ball, leaving behind a trio of perfectly circular holes already beginning to collapse.

"Tense, that," Kenny commented.

"A spirited negotiation, young lady!" Kiribo added.

And finally Hoshi stepped forward, planting a kiss on Casca's forehead as she giggled. "Good work."

"As if there was any doubt!"

He smiled. "You could've gone with something a little more original, though."

"Oh, like you could've come up with a better name," she countered, slipping out of Hoshi's hug with a laugh. "Now let's see this mankey of yours, stud. I wanna get home before sunset."

"Right, right." After a few moments getting their Pokémon back in order – Guts and the lickitung had lost focus without an obvious target – Hoshi threw the only filled ball left on his belt. "Venus, go!"

The middle of the circle flashed red as the mankey coalesced – and before Hoshi had the chance to blink, Venus was already moving. She hopped right over Guts's head, streaking past Hoshi's side-

And as she passed, he felt a tug on his belt. "Hey!" he exclaimed, turning to see the ball of fuzz bounding away. "Guts, Crow, get-!"

He was cut off by the stolen pokéball's immediate return, the hard tool plonking him in the forehead. Hoshi stumbled back and fell on his ass, narrowly missing Guts as she dodged to avoid him.

His rattata streaked off, chasing the mankey as it leaped around doing cartwheels, and Hoshi quickly pulled himself to his feet. "Damnit- Move, people! She's..!"

…Not actually getting away. The mankey was dancing around, mirthfully dodging Guts as if they were only playing tag. Huh. I guess… She's just excitable. "Okay, false alarm." But she could've been, and none of you moved an inch!

"No need to worry, Senior Grunt! My partner would have caught the rascal as she fled, but it proved unnecessary!"

Hoshi glanced at the alakazam, which was absentmindedly playing with its spoons; drawing them, giving them a spin like it was doing pistol tricks, and then re-holstering them, over and over. "…Right." He turned back to his Pokémon. "Okay Guts, good job! You can tone it down now; no biting, just play tag!"

Kenny growled out a chuckle. "Man, your fuckin' face. That thing'd make an okay trainer with an arm like that!" He laughed again, louder, and Hoshi bit his tongue. Yeah, laugh it up. We'll see how you feel when she's kicking your nice new normal type into a paste. "So are we done here? I got shit to do at home."

"Yeah," Hoshi replied. "We're done for the day. I'll…" He shared a look with Casca, who nodded subtly. "…Let Venus work off some of her energy first. You go on ahead."

The grunt nodded, returning his Pokémon to their balls. "See you tomorrow then, Boss."

He accelerated, and Casca called after him. "Remember to turn in the abra! Don't take those home with you!"

Raising his fist to show he'd heard, Kenny continued. Before long he was just a speck against the distant buildings, and then he disappeared. That thing looks faster when you aren't on it, somehow. Hoshi turned to Kiribo. "And you? Gonna keep hunting?"

The fat man laughed. "Doh ho ho, no, I don't believe so! My partner finds such simple prey tedious, and I would be a fool to test his patience for too long!" The man doffed an imaginary cap, then followed it with a salute. "We'll be off then! You have lessons tomorrow?"

"We do."

"Then I shall meet you at the conclusion of your classes! Farewell!" He walked towards his Pokémon and placed his hand on its shoulder. Wait, is he going to..?

"Hey wait!" Once again, Casca called after a departing Rocket, and the man paused. He sent a raised brow her way, and she continued. "One last thing before you go. You said that Quake here would be useful for hunting abra, but…" She spun the dugtrio's ball on her finger. "I don't really see how?"

"Oh? Do you not know..?" For a moment the Rocket Hunter was pensive, but then his aggravatingly cheerful demeanour returned twofold. "Ah, if that's the case, then I have a wonderful idea!" he declared. "I'll speak to my uncle, and see if he can do your lesson tomorrow! He would be much better suited than I to speak on academic topics!"

Hoshi and Casca shared a look, their faces souring in sync. "No," Hoshi said, stepping forward. "You don't- there's no need to bother the doctor, I'm sure Jessie and James can explain whatever it is-"

As if he didn't even hear Hoshi's words, Kiribo gave one last salute. "I'm sure he'll look forward to it!" the man exclaimed, and then he disappeared.

There wasn't even a crack of air being displaced; it was like the overweight man and his alakazam had simply turned invisible. Did they-? Was that really a teleport, all the way to the city? With that load?

His girlfriend's groan broke Hoshi from his brief daze. "Ahh, 'look forward to it' my ass. Tomorrow's going to be painful."

He let out his own breath of exasperation. "Yeah… Maybe it'll be better with a group? Spread the slime around a bit?"

"Bleh," she articulately replied, and Hoshi turned his gaze back to the Pokémon – who were now properly frolicking, rather than trying to attack each other.

"Yeah," he repeated. "Anyway, at least he split. You still up to go see Danny?"

She gestured. "As long as we don't have to go through any ponds. Lead the way."







Hoshi heard the singing before he heard the music.

Danny was a bad singer, his chant of "Saturday, Saturday, Sa-tur-day," both off-key and off-rhythm. Despite that, Hoshi couldn't help but smile at the cacophony.

"It's Friday, you old fuck!" he announced as he and Casca passed through the gate, left wide open as always.

"Bullshit!" came the reply, bouncing off the numerous stacks of electronic detritus. "Friday night's basically Saturday, don't be a pedant!"

Hoshi snorted, and beside him Casca put a finger to her lips in thought.

"Wow, that's an accent and a half. Where's this guy even from?"

He led them into the stacks, guided more by instinct than the echo-obscured trail of Danny's shitty singing. "No idea. I'm thirty percent sure he's Unovan, but fuck if I can pin it down further than that."

Casca hummed, and a minute later they came to a clearing deeper into the junkyard than Hoshi usually had to go.

"Huh," he grunted. "Hey Danny, that's that thing you've been working on, right?" The man was up on a ladder – a nice solid store-bought one rather than homemade, for once – welding something in the interior of a large machine.

It was a lot bigger – about the size of a small car, if it were stood up on its bumper – but he could still recognise it as the machine the man had been building on that summer day. The day after I met Casca… Ah, I think I'll remember that 'till the day I die.

"Huh?" Danny replied. The welding torch died with a fwip as he cut the gas. "Oh, hey Hoshi. Have I shown you this?"

"Eh, not really. You said it was gang shit and I stopped giving a fuck." Hoshi circled the machine. It wasn't any more comprehensible now that it had been in June. "It was when I sold you that pokéball, remember?"

The man wiped soot from his face – or more accurately he wiped soot onto his sleeve; the amount covering his face didn't seem to change much. "I remember that, yeah… Anyway, what's up?" His head angled towards Casca. "Oh hey, it's the lady. Hey, lady, you keeping my boy here all on the up-and-up?"

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, the exact opposite, Mister Houndoom. We've been dragging each other down, if anything."

"Mister Houndoom…" Danny repeated, his near-toothless grin widening. "I like that, keep calling me that. You here to get a Pokémon, fine lady?"

Ah, perfect segue. "Actually, we are. How many abra do you think we can get for…" Hoshi reached for his belt, pulling Crow's Rocket Ball free – and then the drama was ruined as he completely failed to remove the cover one-handed. He passed the thing to Casca, who popped the exterior off and handed it back. "…One of these," he finished, mildly dejected.

"Hoshi," Danny began, but then the words stopped. His face changed shape as multiple emotions fought for space, eventually settling on a sort of wary greed. "Kid, it's one thing to steal from your dipshit corpo boss, and another from…" Another pause as he subdued the urge to reach for the pokéball. "Team Rocket. I got a look at that thing's guts; they must be as hard to make as piggy pearls. They'll come after us, man."

In response Hoshi drew another ball, this one from his bag. He awkwardly held both the Rocket Ball and standard Poké Ball out. "If I tried to steal one then yeah, but this one's mine – my zubat's inside."

"You swap 'em out," Casca explained. "And keep the Rocket Ball. As long as it stays with you, nobody'll know the difference." Then her eyes narrowed, and her hand went down to rub her finger against Candy's ball. "So you better not misplace it, you get me?"

Danny grunted. "Hey, I ain't even said I'd buy the thing. Why d'you even want abra anyway?"

"Eh, it's a long story," Hoshi replied. "But I'm gonna need you to answer me now, Danny; you interested?"

The man's tongue lashed out to wet his lips as his face was once again wracked by indecision, but Hoshi was pretty sure he saw the near-lustful expression he'd seen before beginning to win out.
 
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4.07 - The Mysteries of Life
Maybe he isn't as gross as I remember?

That was Hoshi's fervent hope as he walked through the Electric Academy's halls, his girlfriend leading a few steps ahead. It's natural to exaggerate that sort of thing in hindsight, right? It's not like he actually did anything; he just has a weirdly-shaped face.

But as much as he repeated the self-assurances, the grunt was still dreading the coming hours.

"Hey Hoshi," Casca spoke over her shoulder, bringing him back into reality. "You alright? You seem pretty out of it."

He made a vapid mouth-sound to show he'd heard, then returned to introspection for a long moment. They turned two corners before Hoshi replied, his voice tired. "I'm not really sure, to be honest. I've been having this weird nightmare lately, and I got my hand broken over basically nothing, and…" He licked his lips, tasting the slightest hint of sea salt from the breeze coming off the bay on the way over. "I dunno. When I take a step back and look at it big-picture I can see I'm full of shit, but I kind of feel like I'm standing still while stuff just happens to me."

Casca slowed, and the two walked shoulder-to-shoulder for the length of another hall. Then she spoke quietly into his ear, her tone mixing stormcloud-grey concern with a slightly forced sunlight-yellow cheer. "Hey, everybody gets down sometimes, right? We just finished a really big job, and you don't know what's gonna happen next… You're probably also feeling shitty from getting dunked yesterday, I know I am." She bumped his hip with her own. "Or you're having a pre-emptive reaction to the Doc."

Her comment made him huff out a laugh, and they travelled the rest of the way in comfortable silence.

You know, I'm actually starting to really remember where everything is in this place – horribly confusing architecture and all.


Eventually, after navigating the maze, the two arrived at the standard classroom that they and the other grunts had been using since Hoshi's induction. The plain, unlabeled door loomed with an air of menace, and his hand slowed in hesitation as he reached for the knob – then the trepidation turned to annoyance.

This is dumb. I'm getting anxious over nothing; he's going to leer and ogle and talk in his dumb posh accent, but that's it. I can handle that easy, so what the fuck am I afraid of?

The pulse of anger momentarily washed away his anxiety, and Hoshi pushed forwards. The door opened, he stepped through, took a fraction of a second to pick from among the many empty desks – it seemed only Ryan had arrived before them – and marched forward to sit himself down heavily, all in a rush.

"Mutsu," Ryan greeted tersely, occupied with arranging several binders on his own desk.

"Sampo," Hoshi returned, his voice equally flat.

"Meow," came a richly aged voice from behind the desk, and even after months of lessons Hoshi still had to put effort into not flinching.

The two men turned forward as Casca seated herself to Hoshi's right, and a moment later the speaker appeared; Meowth the Persian – dressed today in a grey suit and matching bowler-adjacent hat – leapt up onto the desk and sat on his hind paws.

"Meow," he repeated.

"Good morning, sir," the three Rocket Grunts replied, voices reasonably in-sync. While Hoshi – and presumably the other grunts, too – had only the vaguest idea of what the Pokémon was actually attempting to communicate, the ritual had gradually evolved into a back-and-forth over the course of the last month. One thing's for sure: he understands what we say, even if the reverse isn't true.

A minute passed as Hoshi and Casca brought out their own notes, and the very moment he set everything in order Puce and Nerine entered.

"Hello Mister Mutsu, Mister Sampo, Miss Kichi," the larger woman greeted. "Mister Meowth."

"Meow."

"Hey guys," came Nerine's more casual greeting. "I heard you got caught up in something, but holy shit, I didn't think you'd break your arm."

Her words made Ryan raise his head, and his bright eyes flashed with shock as they took in the cast enclosing Hoshi's right hand. "What? When could that possibly have happened, we haven't even received our next assignment!"

Hoshi clenched his jaw silently, leaving it to his girlfriend to relay the disastrous meeting with Dabi to the group. "Oh, Arcus," she began. "It was this whole thing…"

As she spoke his emotions flip-flopped; phantom twinges in his fist sparking anger, which was quickly replaced by satisfaction as he remembered his subversion of the bipolar asshole's task, which was further replaced by sick anticipation as he looked ahead to the coming lesson. Gah. I bet half my mood today is being fucking sleep deprived. Fucking cast, fucking dumb nightmare… It wasn't sensible, was the bit he couldn't wrap his head around; he didn't even remember the name of the female executive who'd handed him his first loss, so it wasn't like he was fixated on it or anything. The memories of his Pokémon being blasted with scalding water didn't elicit any more emotion than he expected, so why did it unsettle his dreams so often? It was dumb.

He tuned back into the conversation as Casca concluded with Kiribo's teleportation-aided departure, completely skipping their stop at the junkyard.

"A cowboy alakazam?" Nerine commented, raised brows emphasising the subtle bags under her eyes. "I bet that was a trip."

"Eh," Hoshi broke in. "It wasn't actually that interesting? We didn't even get to see it do anything except teleport away; the guy rushed ahead and did his own thing."

"Still, that's a very powerful Pokémon. This Kiribo must be placed highly within the organisation; you would do well to curry his favour." Ryan's curls bounced as he gave a sage nod.

Kiss ass with Hypno's good clone? No way, I'd rather play chicken with a charging tauros. "Tell you what, why don't you stick around after class, and you can do that."

The man actually looked like he was considering it. "Hmm, not the worst suggestion, Mutsu. I've never met a Rocket Hunter before, and if his surname is any indication-"

He was interrupted as the sixth and final grunt entered the room. Kenny's steps were wide and animated as he all but flung himself into a chair. "'Sup."

"Huh, someone's in a good mood," Casca shot his way, and the bald man grinned.

"Why wouldn't I be? Finally doin' trainer shit, not all that spy crap."

Hoshi snorted. "Man, we didn't do any spying, that was all the girls. You just fought the Gym Leader – and that's the literal definition of trainer shit."

"Yeah, well…" Kenny growled. "You wouldn't know it from how much homework you had us doin'. Wasn't useful at all, either."

Hoshi's nostrils flared, but he managed to release his building rancour with a hiss, rather than a screech. "You've gotta plan for failure, Menard. Otherwise you come off as a dumbass." He turned away, staring at the empty whiteboard as the anger ebbed away. Fuck. You know, maybe if I started treating everything like the job, I wouldn't do so much dumb shit…

…Nah, I can't be taking two months to plan out every little thing. Not enough hours in the day.


Puce's youthful voice cut the tension. "I thought it was useful… I can imagine panicking really bad in a version of that day where I didn't have the guard schedules mem- uh, mostly memorised."

Kenny grunted back, neither conceding nor arguing. "Whatever. I'm glad it's over, anyway."

Hoshi's mood lightened again as the banter turned to other topics. Ryan monologued about his dragon's progress, Casca expressed a desire to take Nerine and Puce to Moonside and pestered Kenny about his bike…

And then he finally rejoined as the talk turned towards their new Pokémon. "Yeah, they all seem to be getting along pretty well." His free hand traced across his belt, fingers ghosting along the three balls. "Crow doesn't really like how loud the other two can be, though. I'm not sure if I should get her a separate enclosure, or try and get the more excitable girls to calm things down…"

"A mankey, a slowpoke, a venonat…" Ryan commented with a shake of his head. "Somehow, that is simply too fitting. Perhaps I should acquire a kingambit, and complete the set."

Hoshi didn't know the Pokémon the blond was referring to, but he did see the opening. "Really? I think a glameow would be a better comparison."

Ryan glowered, but his eyes sparkled with a sheen of amusement. "Alas, I have no comeback for that – any other comparison I could make pales before reality."

That drew a few snorts, but before they could start up again the door opened.

Jesse and James entered the room without a hint of showmanship, and Hoshi's eyes widened. Wow, I never seen them look tired before. The two split up to dodge through the field of desks, and in the ten or so seconds it took for them to place themselves at the front of the room some of their customary energy had returned.

"Hello, students!" James started.

"Today was going to be a thorough accounting of you magnificent victory last week-"

"And we will be getting to that at some point!"

"-But a few things have piled up on our end." Jessie's nose wrinkled. "The odious agents of the Indigo League have already started turning the pressure up now that the Moltres situation is resolved, so we'll be passing today's lesson to one of our illustrious Rocket Professors."

"Yes! Please come in, good Doctor!"

There was a quiet slap from behind the desk, accompanied by a grunt of exertion – hah, I knew there was a trap door back there somewhere! – and the short, bulbous figure of Kim Kimigawa emerged. Having just seen the man's nephew the other day, the differences between them were stark.

I definitely wasn't mis-remembering the leer. Ugh, I really hope I don't make a face like that when I look at women… or anything else, for that matter.

The man's grey-flecked eyes trailed from one grunt to the next, his tongue very nearly lolling. "Hoo, quite the trek up from my laboratories. More strenuous than I remembered!"

"Such is the price of luxury!" Jessie commented.

"And security!" James finished. "Thank you again for volunteering, Doctor. We're positively swamped."

"Meow."

The scientist wiped his brow with a handkerchief. "No trouble, no trouble…" Then he turned to the assembled 'students,' his omnipresent smile widening. "Thank my nephew, he suggested it. Now, shall I begin?"

"Yes, we'll be off," James said, and the two Senior Executives stepped behind the desk as their persian stood and stretched.

Twin waves. "Please be good for the good Doctor now," Jessie concluded, and then they – hugged each other and… started to spin?

Hoshi's face stretched with incredulity as the two descended smoothly, spinning all the while. It's like they're damn cartoon characters going down a giant toilet. What even-?

"Meow," Meowth bid farewell, and then he leapt behind the desk as well.

Hoshi stood. I have to know, he thought. Discarding decorum to whip forward, he stepped around the expansive desk a moment after Meowth's tail disappeared to see – nothing.

No, I refuse. There's a sensible answer here. He went down on his knees, pawing the floor. No conspicuous seams, no hollow noise then he rapped it with his fist. "What the fuck? How?" Teleportation? Some high-tech transporter thing? Or is it actually just a trap door, and it's really well hidden..?

A cleared throat came from above, and Hoshi looked up into Doc Hypno's pudgy chin. "If I may begin, Senior Grunt?" he asked, tapping the floor with his cane.

Hoshi's face warmed. He stood, muttering an apology as he made his way back to his desk. "Yeah, sorry…" Theatrical bullshit. There's a trick there, and I want to know it.

The doctor tapped his cane again. "Wonderful. Let me just get my notes, and… Oh, fiddlesticks." The rotund man rummaged in his labcoat, then the second, more high-class garment underneath. "Did I leave them..?"

A muffled "Meow," sounded out from behind the desk, and then a dozen sheets of paper exploded up from the obscured space. Hypno's face went sour as he watched them drift to the floor, scattering around the front of the room.

"…Thank you, sir."

Another meow, even more muffled, and the Doctor sighed – and Hoshi suppressed the urge to check behind the desk a second time. It wouldn't have changed. Maybe if I come in after everyone leaves with some tools..?

…No, forget about it. They'd make me pay for tearing it up, at the very least.


The doctor laboriously gathered up his notes, stacked them neatly, and then cleared his throat a second time. "There we are. Now…" He turned forward. "I am Doctor Hypno, but please call me Doc. Today, I will be speaking about a number of topics. Pokémon breeding, the manner that they are stored within Pokéballs, their elemental affinities and special abilities… But all of these subjects share a common, underlying fact which unites them.

"That fact is this: Pokémon are primarily composed of a special sort of energy, similar but distinct from the matter that makes up most ordinary materials. While they may use these mundane materials – rock, metal, flesh and bone – within their bodies as well, their essence is of something entirely different."

He began to pace, and Hoshi begrudgingly switched into note-taking mode. Yeah, just ignore him – focus on the words, not the mouth they're coming from.

"There are other forms of life which use this special energy, most notably the fruiting plants used to produce Potions and other Pokémon-centric medicines, but I'll leave that matter for a separate lecture. As life begins in the womb, let us also begin there – with the matter of Pokémon breeding, and its practical applications for trainers."

Hoshi grimaced as the emphasis the man placed on the word slithered through his eardrums, but his pen moved to record it nonetheless.

"Pokémon," Hypno continued in his smooth voice, "Do not pass on their genes in the form of DNA, as humans and other animals do. Their genes are encoded in what is called EPI; Energetically-Printed Information. The pattern of this information encodes not only the physical structure the Pokémon's cells need to replicate, as DNA provides for us, but also the moves that said Pokémon will learn naturally as it ages – and, this means that it varies based on a specific specimen's parentage."

"Egg moves," Ryan chimed in, and the doctor pointed with his cane.

"Just so!" His speech began to take on a more manic tone. "A Pokémon with a peculiar father might be born knowing some moves unnatural to its species – and I'm sure you all know that Pokémon may breed outside of their species, something rare in DNA-based life." Please, stop saying the word breed. "This is also the mechanism that allows the use of Technical Machines; by inserting a specific signature into a Pokémon's form while it slumbers within a ball, they can be made to instantly learn moves without manual training. One might say that the machine becomes a third parent, inserting the information of a new move the way viruses insert their genetic structure into our own, human essence."

This time, his tongue did loll. "And much like a viral infection, overuse of TMs can result in… damage. Try not to overindulge."

Hoshi scribbled furiously as the doctor continued, expounding on the way Pokémon used their stores of energy to express moves, how it was diminished and replenished, how it related to evolution… His left hand began to cramp up, not used to writing, and he was forced to record with short snippets that would no doubt become gibberish within a week as his memory failed. Damn it, talk slower..!

Then the scientist dipped into his own personal history with the subject. Studying the breeding habits of ghosts in Lavender, attempting to create something not completely dissimilar to the Pokémon Storage System using radio waves, being recruited onto a military team as the war began… "Yes," he intoned, "Cinnabar Labs… It seems almost unbelievable in hindsight; Oak, Fuji, Blaine, all the brightest minds in Kanto gathered together into a handful of stuffy rooms. The miracles we created…"

Hypno paused, seemingly enraptured by his mind's eye, and the spell was only broken when Kenny raised his hand to speak. "Was Bill there?"

Instantly the doctor's face contorted. "Bill," he said. "Bill," he spat.

For a moment Hypno's expression became rancorous; his teeth clenched and his eyes bugged out so hard Hoshi was afraid they would pop right out of his skull. "Bill was in Johto, Kenny," he muttered quickly to his subordinate. "He was the enemy." He looks like he's having an Arc-damned heart attack. Should somebody..?

Then the strangely-shaped man calmed some, his leering smile returning. "No," he said, voice once again smooth – though not quite as much as before. "Bill was not there. Hoo hoo hoo, can you even imagine? Adding that perversion to the room…"

Hoshi blinked, pen completely still.

"Ah," Hypno continued, completely glossing over the absurd sentence he'd just uttered. "But perhaps that would have… Anyway! At Cinnabar Labs I turned my attentions and considerable expertise towards a new field, the intersection of human biology with that of Pokémon."

…Is he implying..?

Casca spoke for the first time since the man had entered the room. "Is that like..? Those old legends about people marrying Pokémon from up north?"

He dismissed her with a wave of his cane. "No, don't be silly – though I suppose the comparison is apt in a metaphorical sort of way." The length of wood spun in his hand in a show of dexterity Hoshi wouldn't have attributed to the unhealthy-looking man, and he turned on his heel to resume pacing. "Deoxyribonucleic life holds its own unique features that energetic life cannot replicate. On that tiny island, nestled within the bosom of an active volcano, we sought to… yes, hoo hoo, to marry the two. Create a new type of life, with all the strengths and none of the weaknesses." His voice gradually regained the manic energy that had flowed before the interruption. "If we had succeeded – think of the implications! Instant healing for humanity, as we can already accomplish for Pokémon. Instant travel as energy patterns, the strength and durability of energetic life without the accompanying weakness to opposing types, the ability to pass learned knowledge directly from parent to child, from machine to man and back again…"

His shoes screeched in pain as he spun, leaving black marks on the hardwood. "And we almost did it! No, we did do it! Project Two created a proper hybrid, it was only…" Hypno froze, his hand continuing to idly spin his cane as the rest of him was completely still, and a moment of absolute silence passed before he spoke again. "...Well, the particulars of that are a bit outside the bounds of today's lesson. Let's see, where was I…"

He paged through his notes, and the grunts took the opportunity to share uncertain looks. What the fuck was that? they communicated without speaking.

"Here we are… Oohoo, special abilities! Now, I was particularly shocked when my nephew mentioned you grunts weren't familiar with the concept, but perhaps he was mistaken. Can anyone tell me what that term refers to?"

Ryan raised his hand. "Sir, I believe you're referring to unique features of certain Pokémon species – for instance the resistance to self-imposed impact damage that many rock and ground types exhibit."

Hoshi frowned. Is that..? Necessarily a special ability? If they have hard heads, then they won't take damage from hitting things hard; that's just common sense.

"Just so!" Hypno exclaimed. "Special abilities are, as you might guess from their inclusion in this lecture, yet another manifestation of EPI – and as such they can vary from one individual to the next, even within species." He shook his head. "Ah, I've been trying to get our version of the Pokédex to detect them, but… Well, moving on. Let me give an example!"

He plucked one paper from the stack and affixed it to the board with adhesive putty. As he stepped away, Hoshi recognised the Pokémon shown on the two different photographs. That's… azumarill, the evolved form of marill. He searched through his assembled knowledge of the Pokémon. What would its ability be… I've seen the pre-evolved form once or twice, but I don't recall anything worthy of being called special

"Azumarill," Doc Hypno confirmed with a tap of his cane, "Is a Pokémon with three very distinct abilities. This one on the left, as you can see, has a svelte physique… while the one on the right more resembles my own self, hoo hoo!" He patted his belly, leering self-deprecatingly. "These are expressions of the special abilities known colloquially as huge power and thick fat. Unfortunately the third, much rarer ability – sap sipper – has no physical expression to be conveniently illustrated."

He resumed pacing. "The muscular azumarill is capable of expressing physical strength beyond what its body should be capable of; indeed, the difference in appearance is almost entirely aesthetic, only useful as a…" He licked his lips noisily. "Sexual display. The other is similar; though it does indeed have large deposits of subcutaneous fat, its entire body is oddly resistant to extremes of heat and cold, including the effects of fire and ice type moves. The third ability allows the subject to absorb grass type energy, completely negating what would otherwise be a weakness."

Hoshi's pen moved across the page, recording every word despite the building cramp. Okay, I take back all the trepidation from earlier; this is worth any amount of creepy looks.

"Pokémon may in rare cases have more than one ability," the doctor continued, "But this is limited. Though certain azumarill have been observed to pair sap sipper with one of the others, attempts to breed a line possessing both power and fat have completely failed. Now, do I have..? Yes, here they are…"

He drew six additional sheets from the stack, placing them on the desk. "I've taken the liberty of compiling a list of abilities shown by the Pokémon you were gifted upon your initiation. Please come forward and collect them."

Hoshi was standing before he'd consciously processed the man's words – and yet he was still slower than Ryan, who was already taking a step away from his desk. The grunts, one-by-one, retrieved the printouts with their Pokémon's species written across the top.

Hand nearly shaking in anticipation, Hoshi reseated himself. How could there be an entire facet of Pokémon training I've been ignorant of? That seems- that seems completely absurd! And Ryan knew about it? After a moment to compose himself, Hoshi remained baffled – and decided to voice his question aloud, if in a slightly less self-centred fashion. "Doctor, you said you were surprised we didn't know about this. Are special abilities common knowledge?" They can't be – Surge would have said something during all the training sessions I had with him.

The man lifted a finger and opened his mouth, but then closed it as his lips turned down in a frown. His heavy eyelids narrowed further in thought, and he hummed for a moment before replying. "Well, perhaps I'm overestimating the modern educational system…"

"I was taught about abilities over the course of my studies," Ryan chimed in, and then Puce raised her hand.

"Um, I think I heard about something like that in reform school..? I know enough that koffing is immune to ground, at least, even though it isn't flying type…"

Hypno tapped his cane. "Ah, that right there – that is perhaps the most salient argument for why abilities are a…" His tongue rolled from cheek to cheek, disgustingly visible under the thin, clammy skin. "Niche area of knowledge. The common man sees a pikachu paralyse an enemy on contact, and assumes they used Thunder Wave. Or that a pidgey's ability to accurately strike an opponent through a cloud of dust is due to mere experience in creating such conditions. Abilities are easily mistaken for other phenomena – features of a Pokémon's mundane biology, a learned skill, or the use of an obscure move to name a few. Magnemite hovers with much greater ease than koffing, and yet it is not immune to ground type attacks – but many people believe it is, because such a thing is intuitively persuasive, and ground attacks tend not to reach very high as a rule."

He moved back to the pinned photographs, gesturing at them. "If you saw the azumarill on the left heft a boulder, would you not think 'Of course it can do that, look at its muscles!' before anything else? If you found the other while walking around in a blizzard, would you not point to its blubber as the most reasonable explanation for its seeming comfort?" The doctor tapped his cane again. "Yes, now that I think of it, it's not surprising that the knowledge hasn't trickled down too far… I suppose I've been around other scientists for too long, and I've forgotten what the life of a layman is like, hoo hoo!" Following the laugh came a quiet mutter, and Hoshi strained his ears to hear. "I still can't believe Oak was the one to crack it… Always the least talented when it came to pure theory and code…"

A third tap, his voice returning to normal. "Well, I'll give you a moment to peruse those – and to rest my legs! Whoo…"

The scientist picked his own empty desk to sit in, and Hoshi finally – it had been less than a minute since he'd received it, yet the word still seemed appropriate – read the contents of his sheet.

Rattata… Damn, this is actually pretty dense. It was definitely something written by and for an academic; there were whole paragraphs Hoshi could barely understand. But if I'm reading right… Rattata has the special ability to flee from battle?

That didn't seem very useful, especially since he could just return Guts to her Pokéball for the same effect. Wait, there's more. Ah, extra power when physiologically distressed? That sounds a lot better. And… another power boost, but with some kind of drawback? He squinted at a long paragraph, nine-tenths of which was jargon about energy patterns.

"Yo, what the fuck even is this?" Kenny said, also squinting at his paper. "Something about the weather? 'S unreadable, is this even Kantonese?"

Ryan sighed, beckoning the man. "Pass it here." Kenny did so, and the blond scanned the page for thirty seconds. "Your sandshrew has two potential abilities; either it will be faster in a sandstorm, or more evasive." He passed it back, and Kenny once again squinted at the dense text.

"Where does it say..? Whatever, I believe ya." He put the sheet down. "Seems like two ways of sayin' the same thing, though."

Hoshi attempted to return to his own paper, but gave up within ten seconds. Bah. I got the gist of it; that's the important part. His eyes went to Hypno, who was seemingly napping. Can't even ask him about it. "So, what did the rest of you get?"

Nerine answered first. "Tomato can shed his skin to cure health problems." She shrugged. "I already knew that without this thing. He'll get intimidate when he evolves – or maybe unnerve."

"I don't believe they would know what those particular abilities do, Nerine," Ryan commented. "Though I'm surprised you do. I doubt you've gone through higher education given your age, so where did you learn such things?"

The girl shrugged again, also turning her attention to Hypno for a moment before digging in her backpack. "I have an uncle who's really into poison types. I guess you went to a fancy school or something?"

"No – well yes, but my knowledge comes from my own family, rather than any institution. You could say I have been trained to be a trainer." Then he, too, turned towards the sleeping doctor. "Although it seems our instructor for the day has not been trained to be a teacher. This is highly unprofessional."

Nerine replied by opening a bag of chips and popping a handful in her mouth. "Whatever. You think we can just go?"

Hoshi glanced at his watch. "Still an hour out from where we usually end. What about the rest of you, any luck puzzling these shitty papers out?"

"Candy can recover from poisons and stuff really fast," Casca immediately replied. A sly smile crossed her face as she used her sheet to fan herself. "Though I'm cheating a little bit; I've seen it in action. She can also glow, but I'm questioning who typed these things out – that doesn't seem like a special power at all."

Hoshi turned to Puce, who cringed. "Uh… We already know that Potato can float..?"

Ryan sighed again, repeating his beckoning gesture. A minute later he passed the large woman her sheet back. "Aside from the levitation, your koffing might have the ability to temporarily remove another Pokémon's own abilities, or create a powerful stench. Honestly, you all need to do a little more reading."

Fuck off, you fancy-ass prick, Hoshi thought, pushing the fact that they were all currently inside Vermillion's most prestigious academy to the side. Don't rub that shit in our faces.

"Hey Hoshi, what about you?" Casca asked. "What can Guts and Crow do?"

Her question made Hoshi aware that he hadn't even glanced at his second starter's potential abilities, and he hurriedly skimmed while reading. "Guts can either run away from stuff really well, hit harder when she's burned or poisoned, or… hit harder but with less accuracy, I think. Crow…" Oh fuck, this is even worse somehow. Energy shit, energy shit… "She can… ignore certain moves." Which it doesn't fucking name.

With a third put-upon sigh, Ryan made another grabbing motion, and Hoshi grimaced as he handed his paper over. "Hey, don't act like you're above us, ass. I remember you being absolute garbage at construction – almost jackhammered your fucking arms off."

Ryan's face coloured. "It was my first day! You've been reading since you were a toddler – at least I should hope…"

Rolling his eyes, Hoshi motioned for the man to spit it out.

"Hmm… Ah, this is actually quite technical…" Hah! And right after you said that shit, too! "I believe your zubat can… Ah, she is likely immune to the surprising effect of moves like Bite and Astonish, or able to bypass Light Screen and Reflect."

"Huh," Hoshi said, taking the paper back. He skimmed over the text again, completely failing to see how Ryan had parsed it out even now knowing the answer. "That seems useful, if situational. And what about you? What abilities could Jorm have?"

The man crossed his arms, his chin raising as he smirked. "There's no could to worry about; I negotiated the use of a real Pokédex, and determined Jormungandr's abilities the very day I obtained him. My Pokémon has two abilities, which protect him from recoil and increase the savagery of certain attacks."

Kenny groaned, and Hoshi mirrored him in his head. "Come on, that's bullshit! Why's your 'mon gotta always have extra shit going on?"

Ryan's face emitted smugness like a radioactive cloud, bright green and caustic. "I will repeat myself: I have been trained for this. I'm good at it, I've been good at it for a very long time. Leader Archer saw the effort I had put in, and decided to reward that effort – I have, in a way, been a member of Team Rocket for several years already."

Hoshi and Kenny both grumbled while Puce whined and tried to smooth over the tepid conflict, and a few minutes passed where the grunts talked about nothing important.

Then Nerine finished her chips and balled the empty bag up with a noisy crinkle. "Welp, I'm done. This guy's not waking up." She shoved the bag into her oversized backpack and stood. "Shame, too. I wanted to see his hypno. See you later."

"Wait," Hoshi said, but any actual reason to stop her failed to appear in his head. We're obviously not getting a new assignment today, so… Looking to the side, it was obvious Nerine was right; Hypno was dead to the world, quietly snoring as he slumped in his chair. Still a good while before we're set to meet with Kiribo. "Whatever, you aren't wrong. But do you not want to stay for a bit, do some training with your new venonat?"

She grunted. "Eh, not today. Sorry. I'm free tomorrow though." She shrugged again, and as she left Kenny and Ryan stood as well.

"I'll take you up on that offer, Mutsu," Ryan challenged. "Fancy a two-on-two, Kaneth with me, Kichi with you?"

"Don't speak for me, Suit," Kenny replied. "But sure, I'm in. Savage is pretty strong, but he doesn't listen too good. Gotta work on that, get 'im some fighting spirit."

Hoshi looked to Casca, and received a nod. "Sounds like a plan. Hope you don't mind if I use Candy though, I haven't thought to check Quake's moves or anything."

He nodded back. "Seems fair enough; two trained Pokémon and two new catches. Puce, you want in on this?"

"Oh, um, sure? I mean- yes! I'd like to train a bit!"

The group of five packed up and made to leave, but as Hoshi passed the sleeping Rocket Professor a spontaneous thought made him consider waking the man. Would it be more polite to wake him up, or let him sleep? If the instructors are stressed, I bet the other high-ranking Rockets are getting it twice as bad…

The sudden stab of empathy bled into his stomach, producing a sick feeling. Ugh. No, I don't wanna talk to this guy more than necessary. Nature can decide when he wakes up; I've got training to do.

Hoshi accelerated past the snoring heap, reaching the door first and pulling it open with none of the hesitation he'd entered with – only to come face-to-face with a very similar figure to the one snoring behind him.

"Senior Grunt!" Kiribo greeted, pulling his hand back from where it had no doubt been reaching for the knob. "What a strange happenstance, that we should meet on the very threshold!" His bulk blocked the door completely; it would have been impossible to squeeze through, even if Hoshi had been willing to do so.

"K- Psychic Hunter. You seem a bit early."

"Yes, I felt the desire to intrude on my uncle's lesson – either to demonstrate my partner's own special ability, or simply to observe!" He held his fist in front of his face. "Warriors such as us must keep our minds as sharp as our blades, after all!"

If you could speak at a normal volume, that would be great, Hoshi didn't say. Instead, he smiled – though it was probably a bit wooden. "Yeah. Sorry, but you missed your chance; the Doc ended the lesson early. We were just leaving, so if you could scoot over a bit…"

"Oh, how unfortunate – or perhaps not!" Hoshi's face shook with the effort of not grimacing as the man continued to stand right where he was. Don't you fucking ignore me, you-! "We can begin our hunt a bit early now! I believe I've devised a way to keep my partner mentally stimulated even while facing-"

"Actually," Hoshi interrupted, "Me and my grunts were just about to get some training in. And I…" Do I say it now? Danny wasn't sure if he could actually make it, and if he doesn't show up…

"Oi Boss", Kenny cried from behind. "What's the holdup? Oh hey, it's the chestnut guy."

…Plan for failure, or you'll look like a dumbass. "I talked to a friend yesterday, a poacher who said he'd be willing to drop off a few abra in exchange for a favour. I'm not sure if he'll actually show today, but I need to be here if he does. So… sorry, I can't leave just yet."

Kiribo blinked, his eyes – an intense shade of orange-brown – losing their sparkle for a moment. Hoshi dared to hope that meant his words had actually penetrated the man's fat head. "Hmm," he hummed, drawing the sound out long enough that a film of crimson began to pulse in the corners of Hoshi's eyes. "Oh hoh, I suppose I'll simply have to wait for this compatriot of yours! You said something about training? Grand! I shall participate as well!"

He finally stepped aside, and Hoshi bit his tongue to cut off his instinctive response, taking a breath – and a few steps to actually leave the room – first. "Thanks. You can pair with Puce; she's just caught a psychic type, so I'm sure you'll get along."
 
4.08 - New Hires
For reasons that Hoshi didn't particularly understand, he and his team were often the only people making use of the academy's battle court.

It wasn't that they only came on off days, nor was it that the school was deserted in general; no matter the hour, there were always a few people walking the halls, and more occupied in the multitude of rooms. Scientists, grunts, janitors – who were probably grunts in disguise, Hoshi guessed – and other, less identifiable Rockets were never in short supply.

Maybe there actually is a second, better ground, and they just keep it hidden away from the newbies. That was the only halfway-sensible rationalisation he could make to explain why the battle area of their Pokécrimes-focused organisation was so often completely empty – including today, he found as entered.

"So!" the fat bast- the high-ranked gangster on Hoshi's heel exclaimed as the group of six passed through the sturdy double-doors. "I was hoping to get to know you a little more, Senior Grunt! Tell me, how is it that you came to wear our illustrious colours?"

…Neither of us are wearing the uniform right now, Hoshi, again, did not say. "I… got picked up by a recruiter. Not exactly an interesting story, sir." He took a deep breath. The lesson was fine, despite the instructor being Hypno. This will be fine, despite Kiribo butting in.

…As long as
I don't freak out.

"So, the training," Hoshi changed the subject as the Rockets spread out. "Obviously I wouldn't dream of telling you what to do, but do you think you could give Puce a few pointers with her slowpoke?"

"Her name is Bear," Puce chimed in.

Kiribo's eyebrows came together in thought as her comment drew his eye, and Hoshi frowned while the Rocket Hunter examined his subordinate. Ugh, he might look only a tenth as perverted, but that's still enough to make my brain go to weird places.

"Hmm… I suppose I could give you some pointers, milady!" The tubby man reached under his greatcoat and pulled out a Pokéball in a pattern Hoshi didn't immediately recognise; the bottom was the standard old-school white, but the top featured wavy stripes of light and dark green. Almost a bullseye, but not quite. I suppose that's thematically appropriate.

He released his alakazam, drawing a gasp from Ryan. "That Pokémon! Is it..?!" Ah, here's the ass kissing. The blond stepped forward, eyes shining. "I simply cannot ignore such a powerful being. Tell me, how did you evolve it? Or did you catch it as it is?"

"Doh hoh ho! My partner and I met as young men!" Kiribo projected. "Even back then, I was known far and wide for my talents as a hunter of rare Pokémon – and though we are now bonded together as tightly as the closest of brothers, we began as bitter enemies..!"

The man held his hand in front of his face, and his Pokémon – dressed the same as yesterday; a western ten-gallon hat and leather half-vest, with dual holsters on its hips – rolled its eyes. "You see, I was tracking an elusive scyther through Viridian Forest, and yet as I moved from the shadow of one tree to the next, I began to find queer tracks that failed to match the native Pokémon…"

Despite seeing it once already, the alakazam, strange dress aside, was still intimidating. Hoshi found his attention drawn to it as Kiribo prattled on. Viridian Forest? That's way west of where abra usually live – too many bug types. You must have been a fighter to have made it all the way there, huh? It certainly looked like it; despite the academic knowledge that the abra line had poor defenses, its darker brown exoskeleton gave it a sturdy, armoured appearance. He keeps saying 'my partner' – does it not have a name?

The Pokémon suddenly seemed to notice his attention, its – his, rather, given the immense size of his moustache – narrow pupils turning to meet Hoshi's eyes.

There was a- a something, almost like a pressure on the inside of his skull, and Hoshi quickly turned away. Dumbass, don't get smacked down by another hyper-strong Pokémon. Just… stay cool.

"…And what did I find, but that the quarry had already fallen! Beneath the branches of a mighty cedar squatted a figure with large ears and a bushy tail, one I recognised instantly: a kadabra, the mystical fox spirits of Kanto's north! It brought its shining spoon down and, as though the dull silver edge was refined steel, cleaved the crest of our shared target from its head..!"

The man's narration style may have been melodramatic to the extreme, but Hoshi would be lying if he said there wasn't a certain charm to the bombast – it was like listening to a little kid play samurai.

Except the swords are real, and they were definitely trying to kill each other, he thought, grimacing as the hunter lifted his tucked-in shirt to reveal a long, ugly scar painted across the front of his belly. Gnarly… Either he didn't – or couldn't – go to a hospital, or the wound was even worse than it looks. Despite modern medicine lagging far behind when it came to the treatment of humans, it was still leagues better than before the war – Hoshi's scars from the incident four years ago were basically invisible, and his broken fist would probably be usable within a week even without further treatment. Yeah, reading between the lines… he must have patched himself up out in the wilderness.

That's…
Hoshi's nose wrinkled as his distaste for the man's personality battled the respect his obvious competence instilled. …A weird contrast to the posing and shit. Going after a scyther without any Pokémon – he must have been pretty confident in his sword arm.

The story continued, and Hoshi became even further conflicted; on one hand it was a damn good story, if inexpertly told, but on the other this was meant to be a training session, not Wiggly Theatre: Hobo Samurai Edition.

"…And so with the foe slain, my partner took his rightful spoils – and, as he clutched the twisted spoon to his chest, it happened! Oh hoh, I cannot even begin to describe the triumph of the moment, it was so profound – but you see the result before you!"

The psychic Pokémon rolled his eyes again, but gave a short bow as his trainer gestured towards him.

Ryan clapped, his hands coming together quickly and quietly. "Magnificent, sir! You know, I had been considering a kadabra for my team even before today; might you be willing to share a few more secrets about its proper care?"

"Well, if you insist-"

Then Hoshi clapped as well – though his was an interruption rather than applause, a single sharp sound to gather attention. Yeah, no. One long story was already enough for my Saturday, and Hypno's was worth three. "I think it's time we actually started."

"Oh? I suppose it has been a few minutes… Grunt Sampo, it seems your query will have to wait."

Thank Arcus, I half-expected him to ignore me again. "Thank you for the story, sir, but we only have so many chances to get the group together like this, so we need to make it count – unless you're bowing out, Sampo?"

With a scoff Ryan drew his Pokéball, turning away from the Psychic Hunter. "As if I could possibly back down from you. Kaneth, let's trounce these lovebirds!"

"As if," Hoshi repeated back, drawing Venus's ball. "One each. No switches, to knockout."

Kenny nodded absently, his eyes still pointed the alakazam's way as he, too, pulled a ball from his belt. "Sounds good to me. We takin' a minute to do strategy first?"

"If you need it," Hoshi quipped, and started moving towards the opposite side of the field.

Casca joined, giving him a cocky grin as they placed themselves opposite their opponents. "Hey. You look better."

Hoshi blinked. "I do?" I don't feel better… Or maybe I do? "I'll take your word for it. So…" He mirrored her grin. "I go low, you go high?"

She raised her chin sharply, tossing her hair behind her shoulders – she was wearing it ungelled today; a look that was different from her usual, but equally attractive. "Can do. Candy is just a hair off from mastering Rapid Spin, I'm sure of it."

"Me too, she's been getting a lot faster." Then Hoshi turned away from the enticing curve of his girlfriend's neck, and back to where Ryan and Kenny were huddled. Ah, looks like Kiribo and Puce are starting too. That's good. "What are they saying?"

Her blue eyes sparkled. "Hoshi," she said, faux-admonishingly, "Cheating? For shame." Her grin didn't waver even a bit. "They're going to try and snipe us to death – keep us away with…" She paused, eyes narrowing. "Damn, I think they talked about what moves the lickitung had before I started looking. Sorry."

"No worries. Hmm, that means Ryan's given his dragon a ranged move…" A bulky normal type will be child's play for Venus. "We'll focus the pink blob down first."

The pair across the dirt field broke apart, and Hoshi took that as a cue to do the same. "Venus," he whispered down to the expanded ball gripped in his off-hand, a quick trio of steps bringing him across from Kenny. "You're fighting two opponents; the staryu in an ally. Start with Leer on the salamander and the dragon, then close in for a Scratch attack." Probably a bit too complicated for her first battle, but who knows? Maybe she'll get it.

"You ready, Mutsu?" Ryan yelled across the expanse, and in response Hoshi wound up to throw. "As you wish! Kenny, count us down?"

The man blew out a sigh. "Fine. One, two…"

As a growled "Three," reached Hoshi's ears, he threw. For a moment he was afraid he'd misjudged the force, but the ball sailed right where he'd been aiming; Venus and Candy came out on the far right of the field, Kenny's side, and he saw the grunt's eyes narrow. No doubt he was wondering why they'd decided to attack the slower, weaker, and bulkier 'mon.

"Water Gun into Rapid Spin!" Casca yelled, her words mixing with their opponents' own orders.

"Jormungandr, breathe!" "Savage, Defense Curl!"

As his mankey glowered at the duo, causing both them and the humans behind them to shudder, Hoshi clenched his teeth. Damnit, that's a straight counter! "Dodge, Venus! Stay Low!"

Ryan predictably sent his attack at Hoshi's Pokémon, and the nimble monkey easily skipped to the side as a tight beam of blue fire cut a line into the dirt. Holy shit! You fuck, that has to be a premium disk! "Good girl!" The lickitung can just counter Leer over and over – not sure if going for it is still the right move..! "Use Leer again, while closing in!"

Savage took the Water Gun to the face, but it didn't seem to do much – Oak's analysis had been spot-on; the thing was durable. It's probably closer to a fully-evolved Pokémon than a baby, at least from that angle. Hoshi's eyes narrowed. Slow as shit, though. "Get behind it! Box it in, girl!"

Venus dashed forward as Candy leapt into a spin, the staryu becoming a blurred disc cutting through the air in eerie silence. Another blue beam intercepted her – either Jorm had spontaneously learned to lead his shots, or more likely it was just a lucky hit – and Casca swore.

But Candy kept going, Venus circling in from the side, and as his Pokémon started to be double-teamed Kenny was forced to change his order. "Lick! C'mon, listen this time!" he bellowed, and Hoshi's jaw clenched so hard he saw stars. A massive tongue extended from the 'mon's mouth, and Candy struck the gooey length of muscle – and stopped, her momentum gone.

The staryu's gem blinked with visible confusion despite its complete lack of a face. "Huh-uh?" she grunted, weakly attempting to shake herself free, and Hoshi's vision tunneled as the lines of battle tangled together.

"Low Kick! Knock it down!"

"Candy! Use Water Gun!"

"Keep it up Jormungandr!"

"Supersonic! Back, double time!"

Damn it! Why the fuck does a swamp lizard have Supersonic?! Venus smashed her foot into the lickitung's knee, the Water Gun splashed out at the same time Candy took a second Dragon Breath, and the stumbling Savage nonetheless managed to keen with its mouth full of tongue. Hoshi's vision went from a tunnel to a kaleidoscope as the addling waves of sound penetrated his eardrums. Fuck! This is so much worse from the other side!

Then Candy managed to unstick herself from the diluted saliva, and he felt a seed of relief sprout in his chest. "Casca, the thing has to have taken damage! Keep attacking!"

"Not so fast! Jormungandr, Fire Fang!"

Venus missed her second kick, her eyes unfocused from the sonic barrage, and the little dragon charged.

"Candy, block it! Harden!"

Fuck, Hoshi repeated in his head, fuck, fuck- this is a worse matchup than I thought it'd be. On paper both our Pokémon should be able to run rings around these fucks, but this fucking mound of bubblegum will Lick us to death the second we let the pressure off! "Get in there and kick it! It's gotta go down before we can do shit!"







"Um… hello. I'm Puce Gracile. It's nice to meet you, Mister Kimigawa."

The large man waved his hand. "Please, there is no need for formality. Simply call me, 'The Psychic Hunter!'"

The urge to giggle clawed at Puce's throat, but she swallowed it down; he was so sincere, it would be terribly rude to laugh. "Of course. Um- oh, I haven't let Bear out, let me…" Face reddening, she released her slowpoke. The pudgy-looking Pokémon appeared, her pink fur lightening as the red flash disappeared.

Bear blinked, staring intently at nothing in particular, and let out a low groaning "Ohhh…"

And Mister Kimigawa made another silly gesture, smiling. "A paragon of its kind! Now, what did you wish for our training session to consist of?"

Puce froze. Oh. I didn't think about… Uh… What would Nerine want her to say? "I'm trying to specialise in defense. Could you help with that?"

"Of course! But before we begin; tell me, what moves does this stout Bear know?"

Again, Puce froze. Oh, come on. I stared at the Mini-Dex for so long this morning, trying to make it stick..! She was sure that if she hadn't been asked she'd be able to rattle them off no problem, but under pressure…

Her thumbs moved, imaginary buttons clicking. Come on, don't look stupid in front of someone new..! "Tackle, Water Gun… Growl… And… Curse?" The last word came out as a question despite her best efforts, but if Mister Kimigawa noticed he didn't show it.

"Ah, wonderful!" he said, clasping his hands. "Its line must have cross-bred with a Johtonian slowpoke at some point. If it already has Curse, then the next step would be Amnesia!" He nodded, and Puce forced herself not to cringe as she asked a question.

"Sorry, but, what does Curse do? This is my first time training after catching her…"

He blinked, mouth flattening. "Ah, I suppose that's understandable." Another gesture, chopping forward with the edge of his hand like he wanted to split a stack of boards. "Curse is a rather complicated move, which uses the power of, as the name implies, a curse." Complicated? Oh no… "When used by a ghost Pokémon the full power of its malevolence is unleashed, causing a terrible sickness in exchange for some of the user's own vitality. But as your slowpoke is not a ghost…" He clasped his hands again, quickly enough it was only barely not a clap. "Its curse lacks the proper strength to reach an opponent."

"And, uh, what will that do, then?"

"Is it not obvious? It will simply curse itself."

Puce frowned. "That… doesn't seem useful?"

"It is very useful, for certain Pokémon!" He gestured yet again, pointing to his partner – which was off to the side, staring at nothing much like Bear was. "My partner would find it quite useless and so does not know the move, and so I cannot demonstrate the effect for you – but you will find that Curse greatly increases young Bear's attack and defense." His finger moved to the slowpoke. "The effect is one of stagnancy; when at full power, it slows the heart, causing sickness and death. When directed inward, by one whose malicious intent is merely mortal, it instead becomes something that makes change difficult – including both the change caused by an enemy's attacks, and the change of your own attacks stopping."

He nodded, crossing his arms. "Of course, this lowers normal movement as well, but your Pokémon will not be engaging in the subtle dance of a warrior; he is a brick wall, not a ballerina."

Puce nodded back. So it makes him slower, but… more durable? That's good! That fits perfectly! "Thank you, Mister Psychic Hunter. Um, so what does Amnesia do?"

"Much the same! It is an intentional blanking of the mind, a form of self-hypnosis that protects one from outside interference." His smile widened. "It is something your Bear will learn naturally as she grows, but we can hurry it along with some effort."

Oh, like Nerine helping me teach Potato to turn Smog into Clear Smog! "That sounds great!" She inclined her body in a proper bow. "Please teach me! Or, um, please teach Bear!"

His teeth were actually not very white, but the intense look he got as he smiled made her think the word flash anyway. "As you wish! Unlike Curse, my dear partner does know Amnesia. As he demonstrates it, why don't we speak? Tell me, what style of leadership would you say characterises your senior, if you had to put it into words..?"







The battle was a grinding, miserable affair. And it's all thanks to that fucking lickitung. Arcus, I'm starting to wish I'd pulled rank to capture the fucking thing, it's infuriating.

The little monster had revealed a psychic move, completely upending the relationship between it and Hoshi's fighting type. Then a second – or maybe third – Defense Curl had sent it outside the realm of an easy knockout for either Venus or Candy, and the continuous stream of Licks and Supersonics turned them into gently bobbing psyduck for Jormungandr's fangs.

It was only Candy's Harden and fire resistance that were keeping them in the game, and as the battle passed into its fifth minute Hoshi finally gave up – his Pokémon was battered, singed, and feeling the effects of multiple coats of paralytic saliva. No reason to drag it out; we aren't learning anything from this anymore.

"Sorry, Casca," he hissed, both furious and conciliatory. "Looks like we lost this one. Venus, come back."

The laser connected and drew his mankey back into her ball, and a moment later Casca did the same to her staryu. She sighed, staring at the disguised tool in her hand. "Blah. Really thought I'd do better from all the battles I've been through this week…"

"No, you were definitely the MVP on our side; Venus got nearly wiped from the one headbutt." Am I going to have to shell out for another disk..? No, don't make a decision right now, not when you're pissed off. "Too bad the MVP of the match was on the enemy team."

They turned to said team, watching as Ryan gave a tepid high-five to the more enthusiastic Kenny. Then, with a resigned frown, Hoshi started forwards.

"A splendid battle!" Ryan exclaimed as they approached, brightening as he took in the annoyance on Hoshi's face. "It seems that your teamwork needs a bit of polish, hm?"

"Fuck yeah! Fuckin' get it!"

A muscle in Hoshi's jaw jumped. "Yeah, I guess." Before his traitorous hindbrain could decide to override his good sense he extended his hand, first shaking with Ryan, then the wildly grinning Kenny. "Good match."


A few minutes later the two groups had reassembled, and though Hoshi's chest still pulsed with the heat of loss that feeling was receding. Suck it the fuck up. It's training. Venus got a lot out of that; winning or losing the actual fight didn't matter.

To anything except his pride, that is.

"So, what's next on our agenda?" Ryan asked, still glowing from his win. "Split up in the usual groups with the Psychic Hunter replacing Nerine?"

"Eh, I don't- wait, before that." Let's make sure she's actually learning something. "Puce, Hunter, you guys get along all right so far?"

Puce nodded while Kiribo spread his hands and chuckled. "Oh ho, of course! There are few more personable than I, Senior Grunt! My scholarship is that of the battlefield, and the studies I pass down are marked by the edge of the blade!"

"…Okay. You keep on doing… that, then." Hoshi turned to Casca and the other two participants of their battle. "I've got no idea what our next assignment is, or when it'll happen. So… free-for-all, I guess. Do whatever."

Kenny nodded. "Sure thing Boss. Another battle later?"

Hoshi nodded back. "Sure." I wanna see if Venus does better in a one-on-one. But for now… "I'll be working with my three for a bit, get them more used to each other. Casca, you alright with these lugheads?"

"Oi."

She gave him a thumbs-up. "Yeah, I think Quake might be too standoffish for your girls still. Kenny and Ryan's guys are a little more durable, and I'm looking forward to knocking some heads with a fully-evolved earthquake machine."

"Oi."

Hoshi snorted, then turned away – only to nearly bonk heads with the Psychic Hunter, who was, for whatever reason, standing uncomfortably close. "Erk-!"

"Senior Grunt," the man said, his voice slightly more… indoorsy than usual. "Might I have a word?"
 
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"Might I have a word?"

Hoshi took a large step back, untangling his personal space from the larger Rocket's – assuming that the man even had such a thing.

"…Sure? But what about-?" His eyes drifted around the man's bulk, to see Puce sitting cross-legged beside a similarly posed alakazam and lounging slowpoke. "Huh." Some kind of psychic thing, probably. "Yeah, I've got a minute."

"My thanks," Kiribo said. "Let us go to the corner of the room – I fear we might be interrupted otherwise."

He turned, and Hoshi opened his mouth – only for a slight tremor to run up his legs as Casca's voice reached over his shoulder. "Little eager there, but I love the energy! Bulldoze again, Quake!"

"What the- the battle hasn't started!" came the annoyed reply from her opponent. "Fine! Jormungandr, Dragon Breath!"

Hoshi suppressed the urge to turn and watch his most annoying subordinate get taken down a notch, instead following after the Psychic Hunter. Plenty of time for that later – and besides, I'm curious what Mister Samurai has to say.

The man stuck himself all the way into the corner before turning, and Hoshi spun his hand, gesturing to get on with it. "Hmm…" Kiribo hummed. "I had it all straight inside the steel trap of my mind, but now that I must translate feeling into words, I find myself at a loss… Never before have I had to reveal this for another." Reveal..? Arcus above, he isn't going to come onto me, is he..?

The Rocket Hunter placed a finger to his chin, humming again, and Hoshi's jaw set. He waited, increasingly awkward, until eventually Kiribo snapped his fingers. "Aha! I have it, the perfect opening! Tell me, Senior Grunt: have you ever seen strange colours where they should not have existed? A sparkle of the eye which was more literal than figurative, or perhaps even a disconcerting flavour upon the tongue when speaking to another?"

Hoshi blinked, and then his face contorted in a grimace. "Arcus, is Rocket hacked into the hospitals, too? What the fuck is this about, Kiribo?"

"Oh ho, then your answer is..?"

His grimace deepened. "Yes, I've got mild synesthesia. What's it to you?" And don't fucking play coy, there's no way you could have guessed that on your own; you've known me for like, one day, and I haven't even said shit about it to Casca. "It's a harmless brain quirk. Is that really what we went all the way across the room to talk about?"

Kiribo grinned, ecstatic, and animatedly flapped his arms. "Oh no, Senior Grunt, this is just the opening line! Breaking the ice! No, what I wished to talk about is… this! Observe!"

The man made yet another of his middle-schooler poses, pressing two fingers of each hand to his temples. He sucked in a breath, held it for a moment, and then slowly exhaled in a slowly-building "Ohhhhh..!"

Hoshi's nostrils flared, annoyance beginning to turn to confusion. "What are you..?"

"Ohhhhh..!" Kiribo continued – and as his voice rose something strange happened. The specks of orange in his bright brown eyes moved, seeming to drift across the span of his face like glitter caught by the wind.

Then he brought his extended fingers directly down, and with a sharp snap a tiny divot was pressed into the hard tile ringing the training grounds, the force coming from seemingly nowhere. Hoshi took a step back, this time in something that was stronger than apprehension, but not quite enough to call fear. "You're…" he said, voice catching in his throat. "Psychic?"

The hunter nodded, crossing his arms in satisfaction. His expression betrayed how much that small demonstration had tired him, and the shards of orange had returned to his- no, the orange was gone, his eyes a uniform brown. "I am! And you almost certainly are as well, Senior Grunt!"

Hoshi was speechless. Obviously he'd known human psychics existed – there was an entire Pokémon Gym that employed them exclusively in Saffron, just a day's hike north – but he'd never met one. "You… I…" What the actual fuck? "Explain. What the fuck does- how did you know I had synesthesia?"

"Oho! Well, I cannot claim the entirety of the credit; my partner was the one to first bring the possibility to my attention. Then I observed your battle earlier, and with my eyes opened to the idea…" He threw his arms to either side. "To speak honestly, I was expecting this conversation to end embarrassingly – it was quite a long shot, so I am glad I hit the bullseye! Ho ho!"

"But- but-" With one breath, then a second, Hoshi brought his flailing emotion back under control. "But what's the connection there? Plenty of people have my condition – something like one in twenty, it isn't rare at all. No way they're- we're all psychic."

Kiribo nodded. "Indeed! I have no awareness of any concrete connection between that particular neurological phenomena and psychic abilities!" Hoshi opened his mouth, but the man held up a finger to shush him. "However! I recalled my uncle's descriptions of his own experiences, specifically the manner in which he compared sensing emotions to seeing a cloud of colour around a person's head! And since my partner had an inkling that your abilities were empathetic in nature, I decided to ask after your own perception of colour!" He nodded again. "And it seems I was correct! Most likely, you do not, in fact, have synesthesia at all! Now, the next step is to-"

"But you don't know," Hoshi interrupted, drawing a frown from Kiribo's broad face.

"The way you reacted to my demonstration, you were obviously-"

Fuck off, we're not half-assing this. "There has to be a real test, right? It's not that I don't believe you, but… come on. All we've established is that I have minor visual hallucinations – something that I've known for years. I…" I don't want to get my hopes up. If it turns out I've had some special power my whole life… Fuck, no, that doesn't just happen. That's some storybook cartoon fairytale shit. "Let's not jump to conclusions, here."

Kiribo's frown moved around his face as he chose his hext words. "…Well, I suppose you could be right. My partner wasn't entirely sure… Are you certain this isn't a stunning revelation? A grand key undoing the lock for an equally grand mystery, which you've been pondering your entire life? Disparate events suddenly lining up with perfect clarity?"

Hoshi shook his head, speechless.

"…Well. Fiddlesticks. That's how it was for me." Kiribo once again cupped his chin, fingers idly stroking his goatee. "Hmm… I suppose my uncle would know how to test you properly. Are you free later- no, we still have that blasted job from the Professor, he'll become so irritable if he learns we've been doing more important things…"

Hoshi's mood brightened. "Actually-"

As if on cue, the doors to the training field opened. A man – after a moment Hoshi recognised him as the guy who usually manned the front gate – poked his head in. "Is there a Hoshi Mutsu in here? I swear if this is Nak pulling another stupid prank, I'm gonna…"

"That's me!" Hoshi called, grinning. "Let me guess: older guy with a rainbow-vomit hat?"

The guard nodded, his face exuding cool blue relief – and for the first time in years Hoshi questioned if maybe that illusory blue was something more than just a mutant neural connection. "Oh, yeah, that's exactly how I'd describe it. He's pulled up at the gates in the world's shittiest bicycle – I almost sent him away, it looked so sketchy. C'mon." With a beckoning gesture he retreated back through the doors, and Hoshi turned his grin towards the Psychic Hunter.

"Actually, we might just be done with that."







"…Eleven, twelve, and thirteen makes twenty," said Nak the Rocket Grunt in his retail-employee drawl. "Huh. Didn't expect you to get it done in two days, even with a Hunter. Payment'll be ready by next week." He yawned. "You waiting for something, Kudzu? Door's right over there, if you forgot."

Even the asshole handler's insults couldn't dampen Hoshi's smile. Ha. Fuck off Dabi, that was basically no work at all. "And I'll be compensated for the balls?"

Nak gave him a sceptical look, idly rolling one of the balls around the counter. "Man, these are the most scuffed Pokéballs I've ever seen. Where's you get them, the trash?"

Literally yes, but also fuck you. "They're still real Pokéballs. So?"

"Fuck no. We'll swap 'em for something that doesn't look like shit and you can take them back – though I'm considering just throwing the lot out."

"Eat shit and die. I'll be over to pick them up later." Hoshi turned and, without giving the man time to retort, made for the door. He exited Bio 107 – which was usually a requisitions office when it wasn't being used for Grunt orientation – to find Kiribo waiting for him, leaning against the wall in a pose he probably thought was cool. Damn it, does it count as an act if he can actually back it up? He's a samurai gangster psychic with an alakazam and giant badass scar; how does he manage to make everything he does seem lame as fuck?

"Ah, Senior Grunt. Everything go swimmingly?" Some of the tiredness had been replaced by his usual enthusiasm, but…

But the orange bits are still gone. This isn't, like, psychosomatic, right? It's actually real?

Hoshi wasn't sure what he was more afraid of: for the answer to that question to be yes, or no. "As well as can be expected with Nak on the other end of it. So… that's the job done, and the rest of our day freed up."

Kiribo pushed off from the wall. "Splendid! In that case, we should definitely visit my uncle." He began walking, his gait even more animated than usual. "My partner should be more than capable of teaching your grunt's slowpoke alone, so we should have-"

"Hold it." Hoshi's interruption caused Kiribo to look back, his expression asking what is it now? "Look, I'm as excited as you are," Hoshi lied, his chest filled with a semi-sick trepidation more than anything. "But this… isn't exactly urgent. I need to go back out and thank Danny, then tell my team I'll be occupied with something; just leaving them not knowing where I've disappeared to would be…" Idiotic. "Ungentlemanly."

The man's face twisted in impatience. "Oh- fine. Rain on my parade. I shall go ahead to the basement to explain – do not make me wait too long, or I shall become cross!" He turned, startlingly mad, and marched off down the hall.

Hoshi could only stand for a moment, surprised by the outburst. His face went through several expressions before he was able to shake off the emotion, lips finally settling into a grimly hopeful line.

Arcus, no need to blow up. It'll be a half-hour at the absolute most. He started after the man, but didn't encounter him again on the way to the ground floor. I'll need the time to keep processing this, anyway.


A few minutes later, and Hoshi was back at the front gate. "Good news Danny: you're getting all your balls back," he called, striding towards his friend with a smile.

"Damn it," Danny cursed. He plucked the hand-rolled smoke from his lips and blew out a cloud of foul-smelling grey smoke. Huh, that's a picture-perfect koffing – got the skull marking and everything. It drifted down slowly, holding its shape surprisingly well even as it bumped against the ground. "Was hoping to get some cash back – those things are on their last legs."

With a roll of his eyes Hoshi passed through the open gate to stand beside the poacher. Can't turn it off for five seconds, can you? "Thanks for coming all the way out here."

Danny snorted. "Thanks for the payment, kid. I'm already starting to have fun with it – hey, where'd that weirdo with the sword go?"

"He had other shit to do – and so do I, actually. But seriously, thanks." Hoshi bumped fists with the man, and the old bastard laughed.

"Ha! Seriously Hoshi, don't mention it. Actually, you can thank me by sending a few more young ladies my way, yeah?" He stubbed the smoke out under his sneakers, and Hoshi rolled his eyes a second time.

"Maybe. I'm outta grunts that fit that description – but I know a rich young blond who might be interested."

"Fuck yeah you-" Danny cut off, eyes narrowing. "It's that fucker with the speedo, innit?"

Hoshi answered with a light punch to the man's shoulder. "Take care of yourself. See you around, Danny."

"Fuckin' get my hopes up…" he muttered, using his foot to swing up his bike's kickstand. The guard hadn't been wrong; it was truly a sketchy piece of machinery, so shoddy-looking Hoshi felt like a stiff breeze should make it fall to pieces. But as Danny rested his weight on the beat-up old seat, it seemed to hold him well enough. "Take care yourself, Hoshi. Remember, don't go too deep in this shit! Stay loose!"

With those parting words the man kicked off, his legs furiously working to get up to speed as he raced down the street. Hoshi watched him go, feeling his smile dim slightly as some of the tight, mixed-together emotions the banter had washed away returned. Don't go too deep… I think I'm a bit past that, Danny. He was about to have a long conversation with a mad scientist, one that would probably – hopefully probably – result in something other than disappointment.

Speaking of hope… Hopefully I don't take a swing at this Rocket Professor; I've only got the one hand left.

The tepid joke dislodged enough anxiety that he could turn back to the academy, and as he passed through the gate and into the grounds, the guard gave him a strange look. "What the fuck language was that guy speaking?" the man said, voice dripping confusion.

Hoshi looked at him, then snorted. "Man, I don't even know. You get used to it, though."







"Another breath, Jormungandr! I can feel them flagging!"

The desperate words from her man's main rival were sweet as they washed over Casca's ears. "You think so?" she replied. "Well think again! Quake, give us another Mud-Slap!"

Like their earlier battle, this could also be called a grind – but unlike before, this was a grind she was winning. Quake was just too fast, and the dragon too slow. And it helps that all those hits to the legs are adding up, she thought with a giggle.

A thick wad of mud struck the bagon right in the face, and its beam of blue fire went wide. Ryan growled, all but gnashing his teeth as his composure broke. "Damnation! Again!"

"You heard the man! One more Mud-Slap, then follow it with Bulldoze!"

The exchange happened again, nearly identical, and Casca continued to giggle. It's funny. They both have the exact same flaw; they get angry too easily. Ryan was a good battler – much better than her, at least – but the moment things turned the man absolutely lost his cool, and resorted to spamming his dragon's 'strongest' move – which it didn't seem to be super well equipped to handle, each Dragon Breath draining the little guy's stamina in a way its other moves didn't.

As yet another beam was dodged by her dugtrio simply ducking beneath the earth, Casca's eyes passed behind her opponent to notice the doors opening again in the background. There he is. Oh, but no Kiribo? Bulldoze sent shockwaves across the entire room, bouncing Jormungandr a foot up into the air and rattling her knees.

Ryan actually did gnash his teeth, finally conceding as his dragon flopped down with a squawk. He pulled his lone ball free, his voice and face both tight. "Fine! It seems my winning streak has ended prematurely. Jormungandr, return!"

"Yeah!" Casca crowed as the bagon disappeared. "First battle, first win! Hoshi, get over here!"

Her man walked onto the field, passing close enough that he nearly rubbed shoulders with Ryan – which had to be intentional; they didn't look at each other but she could feel the sparks fly. He opened his arms and she flung herself forward for a hug.

"Ha! C'mon Casca, you win all the time." He leaned down, planting a small kiss on her forehead.

"Don't care," she dismissed. "Quake's got a one-hundred-percent win rate. Gotta milk that as hard as possible!" The hug continued for another second, but as they pulled away she noticed something peeking out from behind Hoshi's seemingly content smile. "…Bad news?"

He blinked, somehow still surprised by her ability to judge his moods. "No. Not at all, actually."

"Hmm… What's with the long face, then?"

As Hoshi lapsed into a brooding silence, Ryan approached. "Good battle," he conceded. "I suppose I should have expected this outcome, pitting a young Pokémon against a fully evolved one. Tell me, what would you have done if I'd gone for Rage rather than Dragon Breath?"

Her smile came back. "Wouldn't you like to know?" Sucker Punch is the perfect counter to buffing moves – even if you didn't turn sloppy there was no way out! Quake had you in a losing fight from the very start!

The grunt made a dismissive sound. "Fine, I suppose I'll simply have to uncover it in our next battle. Mutsu, you up for another round? Jormungandr and I remain undeterred, despite today's poor showing!"

Hoshi's expression evened out, though his mask wasn't quite thick enough to hide the worry and… hope, maybe, lurking behind. "Actually, I've got to split early. Something… new has come up." He reached up to rub at his temple. "Hopefully I'll be able to finish up before you all are done, but if I don't then don't wait up."

Something that isn't bad, but that complicates things… "Are we getting another job?"

Again, Hoshi refuted her. "No – not that I've heard, anyway. This is a personal thing – a, uh, medical thing, I guess. I…" He wet his lips. "I don't want to say what it is right now. Might be- probably it's a false alarm."

Okay, now you're getting me worried, stud. "Hoshi…" she said warningly.

"No, seriously, it's nothing bad. Promise." He sent a smile her way, then turned to where Kenny was doing pushups with his sandshrew. "Can you tell the other two I'll be gone? I shouldn't keep Kiribo and Hypno waiting."

Casca let out a disgusted moan. "Hoshi! You can't say that and not tell us anything! Now I'll be on pins and needles until you come back!" She put on an exaggerated expression of annoyance, puffing up her cheeks, which drew a small snort. "Jerk."

Ryan rolled his eyes at their exchange. "Must you flirt so egregiously at our place of work? I can feel myself losing more respect for the chain of command with each passing second." Hoshi sent a middle finger the man's way, which he returned in kind. "But fine, I shall cover for your absence. I hope this mysterious issue is resolved to your satisfaction."

"Hopefully," Hoshi replied, and after a moment of hesitation he trotted away – only to stop and look back. "Wait, one last thing. What colour are Kiribo's eyes?"

Casca's eyes narrowed at the strange question, letting Ryan answer first. "I can't say I recall. Brown, perhaps?"

"Would you say they were dull or bright?"

Ryan shook his head, and she tentatively answered. "I'm having a hard time thinking of anything to say other than chestnut brown. Does that answer your question?"

Hoshi chewed on his tongue. "…Yeah, thanks. I'll see you later."







Down the stairs, navigate the less maze-like layout of the basement, cut around a section where diglett decided to rearrange the tunnels…

And Hoshi was standing in front of the door. Elec 303 stared back at him, bronze paint catching the light as if to mock the butterfree flapping around in his stomach.

This… This can't be real, right? I've never done anything even vaguely psychic; no bent spoons, no premonitions of the future, no hearing thoughts… Oh fuck, has Hypno been reading my thoughts this whole time? Has Kiribo? Hoshi's heartbeat was frantic, fast and weak to match the fluttering wings brushing the inside of his gut and the half-formed thoughts rushing around his head. What will even happen if it turns out I am? Do I- I don't-

He had no idea what he would do with that information. It was so… foreign, the idea of Hoshi Mutsu having some special power. All his life he'd had to scrape by, his pride tied tightly to the anchor of his self-sufficiency. Having something handed to him like this…

Don't. Stop thinking about it and just… move. Move forward. Slowly, haltingly, his hand moved forward. No blast of red annoyance cleared out his anxiety as he turned the knob, fingers gripping only weakly, wrist limp like old celery left too long in the fridge.

The chaos of Hypno's laboratory washed over him as he stepped inside. It was even more frantic than he'd remembered, dozens of scientists whipping across the room or hunched over desks. Even the Pokémon in their giant tubes seemed to be expending greater effort, the weezings' eyes closed in grimaces as thick smog poured from their pores, the muk churning their slimy bodies into whirling pools that shone with sick iridescence in the harsh lights.

The whole room was thick with the smell of sweat and chemicals, unsettling Hoshi's guts even further. Do I… just go in? Or would Hypno still be napping up in the classroom? Maybe I should go check there first…

No, this was just the urge to avoid the situation winding its fingers through his brain. At last a small curl of self-admonishment forced his legs to move, and Hoshi ducked past the industrial crusher to find Hypno's personal office.

Before he could hesitate again he opened the door, sliding in without knocking to find…

Hypno alone, no Kiribo in sight. The old scientist looked up from the papers scattered across the surface of his desk, a spark of surprise morphing into his usual lecherous grin. "Oh, there you are," he said as Hoshi closed the door with all the calm he could scrape together. "Kiribo said you would be down shortly. Hoo, and then the boy trotted off to sulk when I told him how long the experiments would take – he really has no patience!"

He stood, levering himself upwards with the help of his cane. "Now then; you think you might have some talent as a psychic, is that right?"

Hoshi swallowed. "I… Kiribo thought so, but I'm skeptical. I've never noticed anything strange happening-" Deep breaths, Hoshi. Stop panicking. "I asked him if there was some sort of test, and he said to come to you. So… here I am."

"Here you are indeed!" Hypno exclaimed, looking Hoshi up and down. "And in fact, my nephew was right. There is a test – or more accurately a range of tests, but I don't have quite enough time to go down the whole list today." He waddled forward, and Hoshi could tell that midday nap or not, the man was still exhausted. "Not enough hours in the day – oh, I should say!" He extended his hand, and after a moment of confusion Hoshi's brain kicked itself into gear, and he shook it. "Thank you very much!"

"Uh, for..?"

"For placing the Super Re-router properly! We've been able to penetrate deep into the league's data storage with it, and it's- well, it's quite helpful. I'm sure you don't need the technical explanation, hoo hoo!"

"Just doing the job, sir," Hoshi awkwardly replied, the doctor still pumping his arm up and down. "So… the test?"

"Ah, yes," Hypno said, finally releasing his clammy grip. "Luckily my assistants have been too occupied to make room for the new equipment coming in – another week and we would have had to dig what we'll be using out of storage. You've very lucky timing, grunt!" He exited out into the chaos without another word, and Hoshi followed.

I don't feel very lucky, right now.

They passed through the room, and as they went Hoshi realised it was actually quite a bit larger than he'd thought; the industrial machines and a number of interior walls and support pillars obscured its true size. Hypno led them to an out-of-the-way corner, dust and even a few cobwebs decorating a series of smaller, more person-sized machines that set an ominous tone. Is that a dentist's chair with spikes welded on..? You know what, maybe I don't want to know if I'm psychic or not…

Hoshi sent the thought away, though some nervousness clung fast as the scientist dusted off a few of the more medieval-looking pieces.

"Now, there are actually a number of different types of psychic expression, and as I said before I am strapped for time, so I'll only be testing you on the most common, most useful ones. Let's see here…"

"Kiribo said that I was… probably empathetic. I have synesthesia, and… he said you do too?"

Hypno waved his hand in dismissal, not looking back. "My dear nephew has no head for theory, so I'm not going to listen to a word he says. We'll give you the proper follow-through – well, the properly quick follow-through. Here we are; let's start with the telekinetic measurement test. Put on these gloves, and make sure they're tight."


Hoshi did multiple tests, and as the minutes passed he became increasingly downtrodden. I knew it. Fatass was full of shit.

He was unable to shift the pin of the telekinetic measurement device, no matter how hard he strained or how tightly he cinched the bulky, uncomfortable gloves. He was equally unable to light a match or bend a spoon with the aid of a strange light-weight helmet, and his guesses when Hypno strapped him into the torture chair and had him flip a coin were no better than random.

"Don't be discouraged, young man!" Hypno said, much more chipper – in fact the testing seemed to be revitalising him some. I guess he prefers hands-on work to paperwork, Hoshi thought with a grimace as the man strapped yet another contraption to his forehead, blocking the top and sides of his vision.

"Now this one's a bit complicated, so listen closely: I'm going to show you a series of images, and the moment the third appears I want you to blurt out what the fourth will be. Don't think about it consciously, just let your mouth move. Alright, here we go…"

That doesn't sound complicated at all. The doctor inserted a white screen into the front of the helmet, blocking the last of Hoshi's vision, and a moment later a stark 1 was projected directly into his eyes. Fuck, that's bright.

The image changed to a 2, then a 3, and Hoshi said "Four" without having to think.

Then the screen shifted to show 5, and he grit his teeth. Oh, so it does trick fucking questions. Great.

A pichu, a pikachu, a raichu, "Voltorb." Raticate.

Smiley face, frowny face, crying face, "Angry face." Angry face.

House, car, boat, "Motorcycle." Street Lamp.

Circle, square, octagon, "Triangle." Triangle.

Hoshi's mood was buoyed up when he guessed the next two to get three in a row, but then a long streak of losses brought him back down. This is dumb. I'm obviously just guessing. But he continued; he'd gotten far enough in that there was no point in backing out now.

Book, television, radio, "Computer." Computer.

C, R, B, "Dee." B.

Eye, nose, ear. "Mouth." Hand.

The screen was blank for a moment before shutting off, and Hoshi sighed quietly. A second later a long hum came from his left.

Hypno continued to make thoughtful sounds as the moment dragged on. "Interesting…"

"What?" That didn't seem any better than the others. Also, can you take this shit off? Not being able to see is fucking with my head.

The doctor hummed again, and then rummaging sounds came from somewhere behind. Hoshi lost his patience, fumbling the helmet off on his own. "What?" He repeated, staring at Hypno's back as he dug around in a cardboard box.

"Just a moment," came the muffled reply. "I'm sure there's a bit of it around here – aha!" He emerged with a comically large syringe, and Hoshi blanched. "Here's the ticket! Hold still, a little injection, and..!"

Hoshi rose and stumbled backwards, bumping into some machine. "Fuck off! The tip of that thing's as wide as my finger, I'll fucking die!"

Hypno looked from the Senior Grunt to the syringe and back again, and then waved him off. "Oh, don't be silly. This one is for refueling the Aetheric Measurement Device; this is yours." He waggled his hand, and Hoshi noticed the second, much more reasonable syringe.

"…S-still. What even is in there? And how long has it been in that box?"

Another gesture of dismissal. "No need to be concerned, grunt. There's nothing even remotely organic; it could sit for a hundred years and still be fresh. Now if you'll roll up your sleeve…"

He took a step forward, and Hoshi took one back. The doctor frowned, but Hoshi's mind was made up. Nope. Not letting you inject me with your mad science bullshit. Especially not after you dodged the question. "I think I'd prefer to do the tests without anything invasive, alright?"

"Ah, afraid of needles, are you? Well, I have just the thing – Kimmy, give me a hand here."

Hoshi plucked Guts's ball from his belt as the red light coalesced into a hypno. "Fuck off! I'm not having it!" He took a few steps towards the edge of the abandoned machinery, and Hypno – the man, not the Pokémon – sighed.

"Don't be difficult, grunt, it's just an injection. Perfectly safe. Kimmy?"

She bleated, and the pendulum she was holding began to swing. Hoshi took another step, keeping his eyes firmly on the tool – which was important; he had to watch for the moment the hostile Pokémon attacked.

"I'm not an idiot. I'm not going to get hypnotised, not when it's so obvious." Silence, the silver ring continuing to gently swing from side to side. "Doc?"

"There we are. Kimmy honey, you can stop now."

The hypno jerked her wrist, and as the silver ring jumped up she enclosed it with her near-perfectly-human fist. The moment it was out of sight Hoshi spasmed, a flash of hot pain radiating from the crook of his elbow as his vision widened back to normal. "Fuck! You- never do that again!" Holy shit, I didn't even realise – he could have slit my fucking throat and I'd have just stood there watching the pretty swinging thing.

"Don't be overdramatic now," Hypno dismissed as he returned his Pokémon. "We still have plenty of tests to conduct – here, fill up the device while I look for a few items to help." He held out the larger, arm-sized syringe, and after indulging a brief dream of clocking him upside the head with it Hoshi returned Guts's ball to his belt and took the surprisingly heavy thing.

"The port's on the top. Now, where would it be… I recall…"

Still shaken, Hoshi watched the doctor rummage in another box for a moment before warily stepping back to the front-heavy helmet. Fuck, do I keep going? If I try to stop, is he just going to force me? The elderly scientist seemed a lot more dangerous now. I knew that a hypno could do that, but – I never imagined I'd be on the end of it. I didn't feel fucking shit. He swallowed thickly. The short, ugly little man didn't even attempt to put up any sort of guard, leaving his back wide open; for him, this was just a distraction from his paperwork.

I did it again. Put myself under the power of someone I thought was harmless… There's no way I've got some special empathy, otherwise this shit wouldn't happen.

The churning distaste paradoxically calmed him, and Hoshi's beating heart slowed to a more sustainable rhythm. "Fuck it," he muttered whisper-quiet. I've already gotten a dose of mystery gunk; might as well ride it out to the end. He raised the syringe, grimacing at the milky substance within. Arcus, it looks like two parts glitter to one part apple jam. What the fuck is this?

He found the port Hypno had mentioned, stuck the syringe in, and paused. "All of it?" he called to the still-searching doctor.

"All of it! If there are a few drops left in the tube that's fine, but be sure not to spill any! That stuff's rarer than gold, hoo hoo!" A sharp clink sounded out as he rooted around, and Hoshi turned back to the helmet.

The fluid was unpleasantly thick, and he needed to use the weight of his body to depress the plunger. "This… isn't the same stuff that you put in me, is it?" Just thinking about it made his stomach churn; it seemed that the butterfree from earlier had transformed into grimer.

"It is!" the doctor replied, and Hoshi's teeth clenched. "The main ingredient is- ah! Here we are!" Don't fucking cut off in the middle you fucking cocksucker! Arcus's fucking halo! His stomach did another flip.

"Here we are!" Hypno exclaimed, suddenly much closer, and Hoshi tossed the now-empty syringe to the side. "Ooh, careful! Some of this equipment can be delicate."

"What was the main ingredient? You cut yourself off." Hoshi attempted to keep his voice even, but his rising gorge added a note of panic without his input. And why are you carrying a bucket?

"Hold these," Hypno said as he shoved the bucket and another item into Hoshi's hands. "I'll secure the device – but to answer your question, the Astral Enhancement Fluid is composed mainly of a very rare substance. I believe the colloquial term is stardust." The strap once again tightened against Hoshi's forehead – but this time he had to strain his neck to keep himself from rocking forward; with the fluid inside, the helmet was heavy. "Now sit down, and we'll do the futuresight test again."

Stardust..? Hoshi questioned internally as he obeyed. Like, that whacko medicine they make from staryu gems..? "And having that junk in my blood will help, somehow?"

"Just so," the doctor answered as he turned the screen back on. "As you focus, concentrate on the foci in your good hand."

"My good hand's in a cast, Doc."

A noise of dismissal. "Your other one, then. And if you need to vomit, well, that's what the bucket's for. Same test as before; don't think, just speak."

Oh, magnificent, so the nausea's normal, then… A cartoon pig flashed, followed by a rooster, a cow, "Chicken." Barn. Go fuck yourself.

Then, a strange sensation. He completely missed the next sequence of images as the second object the doctor had passed him – a ball of what felt like stone – seemed to grow warm in his hand. "Huh?"

"Concentrate! The solution will enhance your abilities, but its effect is short-lived! Focus!"

Hoshi did his best to ignore the feeling of bile creeping up his throat, gripping the stone firmly and bringing his attention back to the screen pressed up against his eyes.

1, 11, 12, "Twenty-one." 21.

Sun, moon, half-moon, "Star." Star.

His heart jumped into his throat, followed by a mouthful of vomit. He swallowed both back down.

Rattata, pidgey, weedle, "Zubat." Pikachu.

Red circle, green circle, yellow circle, "Red circle." Blue circle. Fuck fuck fuck!

The test continued. There were spots where he felt like he must be getting it, but then a string of bad guesses would crush him back down. As the screen flicked off Hoshi was certain that he hadn't been any better at predicting the next image than he had been the first time.

"Fascinating results," the professor muttered from behind Hoshi's back, and once again he was forced to remove the helmet – now substantially lighter, unless his brain was playing a trick on him – from his head himself.

"Fascinating how? I don't think my guesses were any better than the first round."

"Oh, whether you got any of them right means nothing. I'm only recording your brain waves, not your words."

Hoshi spat into the bucket, feeling terrible. Now that there wasn't a bright light shining directly into his eyes he could see that his vision was swimming. Arc, I feel like I've swallowed an actual grimer. "Brain waves?"

"Oh yes, brain waves. You're definitely psychic, young man. Readings are actually quite splendid – you might have the gift of prophecy, though we shouldn't get our hopes up quite yet."

Hoshi spat again, then raised the thing in his hand up to his eyes, curious. "Prophecy? I barely got any right." The thing Hypno had called a foci was, as he's assumed, a ball of stone. Jet black, and smooth but for a pattern of three crudely carved eyes. Huh. Looks kind of like a Rocket Ball…

"Again, the answers, and how correct you were, are irrelevant. You haven't trained a day in your life after all." Then the doctor suddenly erupted into manic laughter, the long, loud string of "Hoo hoo hoo!"s making Hoshi jolt. "Oh yes, some good readings indeed! I didn't dare imagine it, but you likely outstrip myself a few dozen times over!"

"Dozen..?!" Hoshi choked out.

"Oh, no, that isn't particularly impressive – I'm quite dull, where psychic abilities are concerned. Had to make a few deals with the Dexus to even begin. But enough about me, we have more tests to run! There's probably another hit of fluid floating around somewhere, and-"

The rest of the sentence failed to reach Hoshi's ears as he noisily lost the battle against his nausea, vomiting into the bucket. Oh Arcus, fucking kill me now..!

No merciful god responded to his prayer, and another round of thin bile forced itself up his esophagus.

"…Ah, perhaps another day, then. Don't worry, as I said the effect is short-lived."







The Rocket Professor hadn't been lying, but Hoshi still felt he was an utter dick as he made his way back to the battle court.

Motherfucker, 'short-lived' my ass. The nausea had mostly cleared within a few minutes, but it had been replaced by an ungodly headache. Arcus, whatever bullshit superpower I've got had better be worth this.

The doors opened, and Hoshi saw that his grunts were gone. In their place was a duo of… Are those martial artists? Beat up gis, headbands, a poliwhirl and hitmontop mimicking their movements… Yes, they were most likely martial artists.

One of them spotted him and, to Hoshi's quiet bafflement, snapped off a salute. "Sir!" he exclaimed, voice crisp. "What can we do for you?"

"Uh… Have you seen anyone else around? Like, was anyone in here when you arrived?"

The other karate-guy answered, his voice deeper to match his broader chest. "Yes sir! There was a well-built woman meditating with her slowpoke! We would have challenged her, but it was obvious she was undergoing intense mental training!"

Hoshi stared at the two saluting men for a moment. "...Alright. As you were."

"Sir!" "Sir!"


Well, Hoshi thought as he closed the door behind him. I guess that clinches it: Rocket hires only the most insane whackjobs possible. Ugh, it's probably way later than I think it is… The building didn't have a single window he could use to check the sun, and his vision was still swimming hard enough that he couldn't quite make out the hands of his watch. Whatever. Today…

He took a step, then another, the headache pulsing in time with his heart.

…Was probably not nearly as shitty as I think it was, right now. Yeah, I'll feel a lot better once I get home, sleep this off, get some food in me…

The bile on his tongue felt gritty, like sand. Bleh. Psychic powers… woo-hoo…
 
4.10 - Our Dream
Extra long chapter to end the arc, and also several announcements:

First, the second book of The Salt & The Sky, Gestalt, is now live on Amazon in both ebook and paperback form. Check it out!

Second, I've helped my friend Dermonster edit his own Pokéfic's latest chapter again (and the next two as well) – I've shilled Hyphen several times, so this will be the last time, regardless of how many more chapters I help him with: it's on Sufficient Velocity, Space Battles, AO3, and RoyalRoad.

(SV exclusive edit: also, please consider voting for my (And Dermonster's!) fics in the Best Ongoing Fic category of the User's Choice awards, thank you.)

And lastly, I'd like to say that I wrote in excess of 55,555 words this past month, and so if the RR Writathon contest allowed fanfiction, I'd have completed it. This one's just for my own ego.

Okay, onto the chapter.
The headache had mostly cleared by the time Hoshi returned home, washed away by time, the fresh air, or the combination of the two.

He entered his apartment with the smallest, weakest spring in his step imaginable, to see his girlfriend spread out on the couch. Candy was similarly sprawled gem-down on the coffee table, kicking her legs- her arms..?

Kicking two of her appendages, while another loosely gripped a crayon. Drawing? That's cute.

"Hey Casca," he greeted, and she turned away from the television. Don't freak out. This is going to- it's going to be fine.

"Hoshi! There you are, you had me worried sick – are you alright? You look kind of green."

He licked his lips as she made room, tasting only the thinnest aftershocks of vomit. He sat in the offered space somewhat stiffly – his limbs didn't seem willing to bend quite as smoothly as he wanted them to – and simply watched the staryu colour for a moment. Solid black? No, those gaps are probably meant to be stars; the night sky, then. "I…" he began, but then trailed off. "Are you religious?"

Casca frowned at the question. "No..? Well, I believe there's something out there, but if it's Arcus or our ancestors or something else, I've got no clue." Her eyes drilled into his face. "Why do you ask? Is this about that… medical issue?"

He was silent for a moment more, and as the tension built he could feel his girlfriend's trepidation. Or can I? Is this… Is this what normal empathy is, or do I really..? Even without the dregs of the headache, today had really fucked with his head. "I think… I mean Hypno thinks…" He swallowed. "I might be a psychic."

Casca's brows climbed almost into her hair, and even the starfish sensed the change in atmosphere, turning away from her drawing to fix the pair of humans in her gem's reflection. "Psychic?" Casca repeated.

"Yeah. Kiribo's alakazam noticed and… apparently my brainwaves match, or something. The actual tests didn't seem to go well at all, but Hypno said I…" He trailed off again.

His girlfriend's eyes continued to stare intently, but after another brief silence they softened. Are her eyes really the shade of sky-blue I see them as? Or is she like Kiribo, and they're actually dull..? "Oh, Hoshi. You know that even if I was a secret nun or something, I'd still make an exception for my man, right?" She hugged him, and he put his arms around her. He'd thought that all his catastrophising on the way home had prepared him, but as they squeezed each other tears slid from his eyes regardless. "I know you're not the Dexus's plaything – those old stories are bunk."

He continued to cry, very softly, letting out a surprised laugh as he felt rubbery arms join the mix. "Thanks, Candy…"

Some of the tension he felt went away, and then even more as Casca spoke again. "Hoshi… You don't believe that, do you?"

"No," he answered. "I- I haven't been to church in years. But…" I don't want to be… different. "I'm thinking about what my parents would say."

"Hoshi…"

"Mom was- she was religious, I think. I don't even know what dad would say – he wasn't traditional, but he was traditional, you know? Fuck, what will Bob think..?"

"Hoshi," Casca said, more firmly. "Bob will still love you. And if he doesn't, I'll kick his ass until he changes his mind." Hoshi snorted, the image of his girlfriend menacing the seven-going-on-eight-foot-tall air force captain flashing through his mind's eye. "This doesn't change anything, especially not us. Right?"

"…Yeah," he answered softly. "Yeah, of course… Maybe I should go to church, though, just to make sure I don't burst into flames."

She huffed, his joke landing, and the three pulled apart after one last squeeze. "Well, it's the right season for it, stud. Seriously, and you okay? You look sick."

"Hypno injected some kind of star-gunk into me, but I'm not feeling too bad anymore. Ugh, he's a fucking asshole, had his hypno… well, it wasn't too bad, I guess. But he wants me to come back, and I'm not sure if…" He swallowed again. "If I actually want it, you know?"

Once again Casca examined his face. "…Let's not make any big decisions just yet, okay? You should sleep on it."

He let out a shaky breath. "Yeah. I'll do that… Do you think you could take care of dinner?"

"Absolutely," she replied with a nod, and Hoshi made himself more comfortable on the couch as she stood. "Soup again?"

"Something a bit more, please; that fucking slime made me throw up." As his girlfriend got to work he absentmindedly released his own Pokémon, Crow flapping over to a surprisingly intact cat stand he'd dragged home from the dump while Guts bounded around the apartment. Ha, never actually got any training done with them… Maybe tomorrow. Despite the aftereffects of the astral-whatever-juice being almost as short-lived as advertised, Hoshi was still wrung-out and limp. As his rat retired to her own nest – a cardboard box full of bunched-up newspapers – he toyed with Venus's ball, debating releasing her as well. She didn't break anything when I let her out yesterday night, but… no, I'll take her to a park tomorrow or something.

He wasn't entirely sure a mankey could be an indoor Pokémon, and he didn't feel like testing fate after the day he'd had.

Fate… Arc, this is gonna stick in my brain for a while, I can just tell.


Time passed as he dragged himself together. He finished the action movie Casca had been watching, then switched to the news.

More shit about the Moltres… Oh, here we go, something new. "And we've actually managed to get an exclusive interview with Minister Jitsu to speak about the League's response to the crisis," the anchorwoman narrated. "Minister, how are you feeling about things at the moment?"

The professionally-dressed woman in her immaculate newsroom disappeared as they cut to somewhere much more casual: a backdrop of darkly stained wood, the wall held up by a more modern white-carpet floor. A man in robes was centered in the camera, sitting at a low, ancient-looking table with his arms crossed. His house? I guess when you're that high in the government, you get the media to come to you.

"Thank you for having me, Sarah," the man replied. He was old, with a short face and stout body; Hoshi's first impression was that he looked like a politician, in some ephemeral way that was completely divorced from his monk-like robes and buzz-cut. When he spoke his voice was soft but firm, as though admonishing a misbehaving grandchild. "To be frank, I'm feeling slightly put-out. While we here in Provincial Ministration are, of course, always happy to expend every effort for the betterment of Indigo, we feel that the response from League higher-ups was sluggish at best. We were forced to move forward with the emergency measures before they were completely ready, something that shouldn't have happened – in the future, I would hope that such measures could be taken right away, with greater… follow-through."

"I'm sure many of our listeners agree, Minister. But of course, there are always those who feel wary of allowing the provincial government too many freedoms from League oversight; how would you respond to the criticism that you and your fellows overstepped? Acts of God are traditionally a matter for the Champion to resolve, after all."

"I simply cannot agree, Sarah. While the Champion and Elite Four spent weeks completely fumbling the crisis, the people of Kanto suffered. And while Clair did eventually solve things, that is little help to the multiple cities that spent two months under siege from this unnatural storm – the worst since the New Island incident. This crisis has uncovered something abundantly clear: the conjoined Indigo League is simply too small to deal with both Johto and Kanto. Either the number of seats must be increased, or the power to act must flow down to I and my fellow ministers. The alternative is that things will remain as they are; with a slow-witted bureaucracy allowing the suffering of the people through its inaction."

"Bold words, Minister. I'm sure that the League will have a suitable response shortly. Do you have any closing words?"

"Only this," the man said, and uncrossed his arms. Hoshi's eyes narrowed as he saw what was revealed: a small patch over the politician's heart, 'FTL' written in block letters. A Minister wearing a Free the League symbol? Huh… "The government exists for the good of the people – and as history has shown time and time again, weakness will always be caught out. If the League's Elites are unable to protect the people, then what good are they?"

The news moved on, and Hoshi was distracted from some feel-good, rescue-a-puppy type story by his thoughts. Jitsu… Familiar, but not a name I know off the top of my head. The man's words had been an obvious provocation, the kind that Hoshi wouldn't have expected to see on the news. It feels… kind of good, actually, to see that there are a few people with their heads on straight. Hopefully this minister wouldn't mysteriously disappear the moment the public eye blinked…

And then he was distracted from further thought as Casca slipped a plate into his lap, planting a kiss on his cheek as she returned to her place on the couch.

"Rice and peppers?"

"Stuffed peppers. I'm trying something new, so speak up about the taste!"


They ate dinner, Hoshi showered, and as evening settled into night the last lingering bits of headache drifted away.

And as the two of them prepared for bed, Pokémon safely sleeping in their balls, Casca turned to give him a soft smile. "Hey. I really meant what I said earlier."

"About?"

"About this not changing anything. About us." She slipped into bed, and he followed a moment later after turning off the lights. In the dimness of the room, with only slivers of light coming in through the blinds, Hoshi could almost imagine he was looking up at a dark, endless, empty sky.

"Thanks, Casca," he whispered. "I needed to hear that."

Minutes passed as his heart slowed, the darkness under his eyelids gradually being replaced by a soft, slow kaleidoscope of stark white and black. He drifted down, down, and then-

"Hoshi?" Casca asked, voice small, and he was roused from the edge of sleep, dragged back onto dry land.

"…Yes?" he asked back, voice equally small.

"…Sorry, it can wait 'till morning. Good night."

"Night…"







Hoshi dreamt.

Or at least, he assumed he was dreaming… but something about it felt just slightly too real. Below him was a bed of soft tan, and above him was a great black void. Each was cold, lifeless, completely empty – but there was another colour. A mixture, rather than the stark monotones above his head and below his feet.

A thin band of red and blue and pink stretched between the sky and earth, a horizon line that was… not warmer, necessarily, but alive. Slowly it dripped down, nourishing the sand, and from that genesis green plants sprouted. Then insects, and fish, and mammals… So many colours that he felt his eyes would melt.

Hoshi floated upwards as the land beneath became larger. The further life spread, the further he ascended, until the only thing below his feet was a riotous dot of many colours, that thin red-blue-pink band dripping down like rain.

This… isn't the same nightmare I've been having. He continued to float, higher and higher, and as he went he could see the band was not a single piece as it had seemed close-up, but two distinct rings interweaving with each other – one red and blue, the other pink. He went up, floating into space until… there was nothing. Black void surrounded him on all sides, empty and cold.

But not a… bad cold, no. It was comforting – almost… motherly? That didn't seem like quite the right word, but Hoshi had no other. He continued to ascend, moving without reference, and then…

Another band, this one of gold. Another, then another, then another, descending from on high and passing down below. More, and more, and more… Until eventually the golden bands, too, faded away.

Again Hoshi was enclosed by darkness, the cold void cradling him. Shouldn't there be… stars? Anything at all? But no, there was nothing.

Nothing, at least, until he hit the top. He struck it like a comet, digging a crater into the nothing which was colourless, textureless, featureless. And then… a strange sensation. Something he had almost entirely forgotten.

A warmth entered Hoshi's core, seeping in from this new flavour of darkness. More and more, and more and more, until-

He woke up.







Hoshi opened his eyes to a bright light – and more than that, a bright sound.

His half-asleep brain flailed for a fraction of a second, before he eventually placed it: his telephone was ringing. Huh? What?

Another moment of confusion as the long dream sloshed around in his skull, and then Hoshi cleared his thoughts with a shake. He stood as the phone continued to ring, semi-coordinated steps taking him from one side of the bedside table to the other – and then he picked it up.

"Hoshi!" roared the familiar voice of his uncle. "Finally! I've been calling twice a day all week – what, did you lose your phone bill in the mail or something?"

…Phone bill? asked the last dregs of sleep in his head, before another shake brought him fully back to reality. "Hey Bob," he replied, voice rough. "Sorry, I've been out of the house a lot. Doing trainer stuff, you know? Trying to make up for lost time." Why the fuck is it light outside? Where's Casca?

…Did I fucking
sleep in? As incredulous as the notion made him, it seemed it was true; a glance at his alarm showed the bright red digits of 10:12 AM merrily shining away in a sea of black glass. Black… Why does that feel nostalgic..? Already the dream was only cinders, burned away by the morning light. Did I have that nightmare again? No, I wouldn't have slept in if it was that…

"Ha! That's the Champ's son I know! But listen, Hoshi, I've been holding your badge for a whole week now! When are you gonna come down and pick it up? You avoiding me, kid?!"

"No, Bob." Am I? I don't think I've been, but… Maybe it was like the Route 6 thing, and he'd just been… shying away from all the lies he'd been needing to tell his uncle. "…Sorry, maybe. I've had a lot on my plate, and it feels fucking weird to finally be a trainer after wanting it so long. I'd… kind of given up, you know?"

"Hey kid, don't talk like that! You're never too old to become a trainer – I've got octogenarians coming in, and they're as good as any wet-behind-the-ears toddler!"

Hoshi snorted. "I'm sure they'd love the comparison. I'll… come over today, alright? Sorry it took so long."

"Don't apologise, soldier! I want actions, not words!" The tinny filter the phone lines set over his words washed some of the emotion out, but Hoshi could easily imagine the scene on the other end: Bob yelling into his receiver, the blue of his eyes flashing in time with his pearly teeth, the latter bared in a savage grin. "I'd better see you here at fifteen-hundred sharp! Your lady too, and the blond guy, and that punk girl! And wear something classy!"

Huh? Nerine too? Hoshi dug for something to reply with, but before he could speak the line went dead. He stared at the phone for a moment, expression blank, then returned the receiver to its stand with one hand as his other came up to sweep back his hair – only to clonk himself in the forehead with his cast.

"Ow. Damn it all, Bob…" I just had a super-emotional Saturday, I wanted my Sunday to be relaxing… Well, whatever. Where's Casca?

A brief inspection revealed a note stuck to the fridge, partially obscuring the thick black scribbles of the crayon drawing below. "Hey stud," he read aloud, fondness and disquiet fighting for space in his chest. "Gotta do something at the academy real quick…" 'Be back before lunch! Also, sorry I didn't wake you, but you were dead to the world! Hope you feel better!'

The short message was signed with a kiss, sticky red lipstick vibrant and cheerful against the yellow paper. He smiled, fondness winning out, and removed the note. I guess I've got a couple hours to myself.

…And I
do feel better, actually. There weren't any lingering effects from yesterday, and he didn't even feel like he'd overslept. Yeah, actually, today's going to be great – partying with Bob sounds good. Another little vacation before I get down to my next job.

Now, how the
fuck am I gonna get ahold of Ryan before three PM? He's probably already back in Viridian… I guess I'm going to the academy too, heh.







In a spectacular reversal of the scene he'd become gradually used to, the Battlegrounds were packed. Men and women young and old filled the four massive fields, a multitude of different Pokémon battling for supremacy.

Hoshi saw not only the bumbling efforts of the year's second wave of new trainers, but also the exponentially more powerful attacks of fully evolved Pokémon; there were old hands mixed into the crowd, veterans and Route Rangers acting as towering mountains for the new generation to climb. The sight made his fingers itch to close around a Pokéball – not just his left, but also his newly-freed right. Glad I thought to check the med centre before leaving; explaining the broken hand to Bob would have been awkward.

His fist wasn't entirely back to normal yet, but the bone wasn't in danger of rebreaking either – so long as he avoided any machamp. Yeah. I think I'll be sending Kenny down to talk with Dabi… It's his own Pokémon all this fuss was about, anyway.

Speaking of Kenny, the man was obviously feeling his own itch – and Ryan as well. It seemed his grunts had caught the same battle-fever that he had.

The girls, in contrast, were a bit more sedate… or at least Puce was; Casca was her usual energetic self, while Nerine seemed anxious.

"Hey Boss, think we could get a few fights in? I bet Savage'd rock a bunch 'a these little shits."

"Don't be daft, Kaneth," Ryan broke in. "We couldn't possibly keep the Gym Leader waiting."

Kenny snorted. "You just want your badge now, yeah? Ya can do that without me 'n the girls."

Hoshi shook his head. "I'm sure there'll be plenty of people still here after the party, Kenny… Also, cool it with the boss stuff, okay?"

Another snort, but the man shut his big mouth. Kind of surprised I could get the whole gang together on such short notice. He still wasn't at all sure how Ryan was getting to Viridian and back so quickly, but whatever it was was at least convenient. "You sure you three don't want to try and challenge the Gym? Last chance for us to all get our badges together."

"Nah," Casca answered. "Let's not put it off – if I decide to come back it'll be when Candy's evolved."

Nerine clicked her tongue. "That dugtrio would clear a first badge challenge easy."

"Yeah, but I'm a revenge kinda girl. And it's not like I need the money right now, so…" She shrugged.

"Fair enough," Hoshi concluded. "Puce?"

"No, I don't think I'm ready for a real Gym battle just yet."

Kenny just shook his head, and he grunted in acknowledgement. The path through the numerous trainers was twisting, but they made it through in what seemed like an instant – and then they were through the doors.

And much like the Battlegrounds, the reception area was much livelier than Hoshi had grown used to. Finally back to normal. Seeing the space full of people brought a smile to his face, and his steps were firm as he made his way to the front desk. On the way he looked to Nerine. Wow, she's kind of freaking out, isn't she? "I can't believe you went off and got the badge while we were all still at school," he sent the fidgety teen's way, pitching his voice high in an attempt to raise her mood.

"Yeah. Don't make a big deal out of it."

He frowned. Wonder what's up with her. I know she passed out from exhaustion the first time we were here, but everything went off without a hitch. What, did she offend Surge yesterday or something?

"Can I help you sir?" questioned the receptionist as they stepped close – today it was an older gentleman manning the desk, his white hair and papery skin contrasting a fine red suit.

"I'm Hoshi. I believe the Gym Leader is expecting me?"

"Ah yes, please wait a moment; Lieutenant Surge has a small matter to resolve. I'll call you up when it's your time to go in – are you all together?"

A nod. "Yeah, we're together."

"Very good, sir. As I said, I'll call you up."

Hoshi stepped to the side, and right behind him came a man maybe a year or two younger. "Hello! I'd like to challenge the Gym Leader!"

His smile didn't dim as he made his way to a string of unoccupied seats, the receptionist's aged voice carrying over the low din of visitors inspecting the pictures and other displays. "Of course, sir. Today's a bit packed, as you can see; I can pencil you in for seven, or would tomorrow be a better time?"

He sat, and drew his eyes across the room as the challenger futilely attempted to wrangle a better time. Yeah. Back to normal.







Bob Surge didn't think of himself as a negotiations kind of guy – but working the job he'd had for going on nineteen years, even a slugma would've picked something up.

So it was obvious that the guy in front of him was yanking his damn chain. "Shut it down? Now listen here, the Gym's just got back up to where it should be! I ain't shutting down crap!"

The weedy-looking pencil-pusher frowned, adjusting his nametag as if he thought the League symbol in its corner was somehow enough to intimidate a Gym Leader. Fat chance! I'm a public servant – my office is directly under the Vermilion Mayor, not you League fatcats!

"Sir, there's obviously some sort of leak from the gas pipes. In the interest of public safety-"

His fist made contact with the sturdy surface of his desk, sending a jolt of vibration up his arm – and a jolt of satisfaction down his spine as the lackey winced. "I told you like three times now, that was no damn gas leak! It was enemy action!" You think I'm dumb? I've had my people combing around all week; if it was a leak, why'd it hit one guy – and maybe a civilian – then stop?

The wince continued until the man found a hint of resolve. "Gym Leader, I'm sorry, but I simply can't see how. Nothing was stolen, no files were tampered with… no fingerprints, hairs, or anything. We even scanned for Pokéball radiation, and found nothing."

Surge's fist met wood again, louder the second time. "I know what fuel gas smells like, pencil-neck! That was a Clear Smog attack, or I'll eat my boots! Your own man was injured, show a little comradery!"

At that, the man's spine straightened. Oh, hit a nerve did I? Good! Grow a damn backbone! "Surge, you're walking on thin ice. I can't compel you to take a more thorough look at the gas lines, but if we take our grievances to the Mayor, what do you think the outcome will be?"

Hah, you don't even understand the difference between you and him, do ya? I actually respect the Mayor, unlike you, grunt! "So do it, then," Surge dismissed. "While you're wasting your time, I'll be tracking down the actual culprit. Get outta my office!"

The man left, and Surge took a moment to cool it down, grumbling to himself before he hit a button on his office phone. The steadily blinking light went solid, and he spoke before his old war buddy could get a word in. "Hey Olson, this what I'm hoping it is?"

"I assume so, sir. Your nephew has arrived with his entourage; shall I send him down?"

Ha! Right on time! "Go ahead." He clicked the button again, the light dimming, and then stood. Damn kid's always off doing his own thing. Can't believe I had to drag his ass in to get his Thunder Badge…

The thought was, despite all the sleepless nights and other crap he'd had to put up with over the years, one that caused his smile to widen. The Gym Leader stepped towards his office door – but then took a detour, swinging to the side to stand before a large photo hung at eye-level on the wall.

Shenja Mutsu, seventeen and already wider than most professional bodybuilders, stared back at him. His blue eyes sparkled, and his cheeks were rosy – probably on account of the woman on his arm. Dani Mutsu, who'd taken her new family name just minutes before this very photo, looked equally happy. She was the polar opposite of her husband; thin-boned and short, her face pale where his was ruddy, her eyes large where his were small and squinted. Her green hair was long and straight, where his was a curly purple that resembled steel wool more than anything.

Just about the only thing they had in common was the bright blue eyes, and the expressions of joy.

"Your kid grew up pretty damn okay, Champ, Dani," Surge muttered. "No thanks to me. Ha!"

He adjusted the frame slightly, turned, and left his office.







For the second time in as many weeks, Hoshi walked down the challenger's tunnel with five Rocket Grunts on his heel – but this time, there was no tension dancing under his skin. Well, maybe just a bit… Still not sure if I wanna bring up the psychic thing or not.

Casca had urged him to wait for the right moment, but Hoshi wasn't sure. There were a lot of bits to his present life that he needed to keep secret from his uncle, and revealing a genuinely uncomfortable truth might just sooth his conscience a bit.

…I'll think on it during the party, he thought as the end of the tunnel came up, dismissing the issue with a light shake of his head. Darkness transitioned to light as the group walked out into the heart of the Gym, the floodlights at full intensity, and as his eyes adjusted Hoshi called out.

"Ha, Bob! Are you fucking with me?"

Strung up above the battlefield was a novelty banner, the kind you'd get for a child's birthday party. In large block letters was a message that drew a guffaw from several people behind him: 'CONGRATULATIONS ON BECOMING A MAN, HOSHI!'

The scene below the banner wasn't much better, with his uncle standing beside a pikachu-themed cake.

"You think I'd dare, little man?" the giant replied, voice booming. "This is completely sincere!"

A blush on his cheeks and a slightly sharp smile on his face, Hoshi went forward to receive a hug. "You're an old bastard," he spoke into his uncle's chest.

"You're damn right!" Bob chuckled, and then the two released each other. "I'm proud of you Hoshi." Then he turned to his 'school friends' and waved them in. "Hey, you lot! Come on in here and get some cake!"

And so the festivities started.


"Fine showing, Mister Mutsu!" congratulated another aging veteran – once, years ago, Hoshi would have known them all by name, but in the present those memories were too faded. "It isn't often we see a young rattata solo a fully-grown pikachu!" Now the bulk of the Gym's employees were only familiar faces, old soldiers who didn't feel like putting their skills to pasture after the war's end, and had found a place with the younger Lightning Lieutenant. Less of them than I remember. I guess that's to be expected; it's been a few years since I came around regularly, and pretty much all these guys are around retirement age.

But despite not recalling every name, Hoshi knew these people. "Thanks, sir. I'd like to take credit as her trainer, but honestly I think it was just Guts being Guts."

"Don't sell yourself short. Fighting spirit comes from the bond between a trainer and their Pokémon, and that isn't something that one can fake."

The handshake ended, and someone else approached. "How you holding up, stud?"

Hoshi bumped shoulders with his girlfriend. "Just fine so far. Are the others behaving themselves?"

She rolled her eyes. "Well enough. Puce has tripped, like, three people, but Kenny's actually acting half-way respectable."

"Well, he was a pro wrestler. That's a kind of celebrity, right?" The two of them shared a chuckle. "But speaking of the others, do you know what's up with Nerine? She's super tense."

"Yeah, I noticed." Casca's eyes subtly gestured to the surrounding crowd. "Probably something we'll have to ask about later."

Got it – Rocket stuff. He took a sip of his soda. "And how are you feeling? I saw you talking to Bob earlier – I hope he wasn't grilling you too hard."

"Oh, just the usual concerned-parent things. Where do you work, how'd you meet, if you break my baby boy's heart they'll never find the body, that sort of thing."

He half-snorted, fizz threatening to shoot up his nose. "The usual, huh?"

For a minute the two lapsed into silence, watching the party – maybe gathering was a better word, actually; it was a pretty sedate affair – move around them.

Then a sharp, repeating tink sounded out, and Hoshi's head turned to see Bob tapping a spoon against a glass. "Okay soldiers: cake's all done, so break time's over! Let's end this thing off with a bang – Hoshi, Sampo, Rose! Get on up here!"

"Here we go," Hoshi whispered to himself as he handed his drink off to Casca, receiving a quick peck on the cheek before he walked towards the towering Gym Leader.

He and the other two successful challengers lined up, and Lieutenant Surge scrutinised them with a frown as he marched to each of them in turn. When he spoke his voice wasn't quite as loud as usual, with a solemness that Hoshi rarely heard.

"Usually I'd only do this for my eighth badge challengers, but I'm feeling mushy today, so you get the whole spiel!"

To Hoshi's left Ryan stood perfectly straight, his eyes facing unerringly forward, his powder-blue suit fit tightly to his frame. And then to his left stood Nerine, hair damp with sweat, also dressed up in a nicer blouse than she usually wore. The girl was obviously uncomfortable with the situation, averting her eyes as Surge looked her over. Seriously, what's up with her? She didn't have stage fright at the Rocket tournament, unless I'm misremembering…

Maybe she's scared of
Surge, specifically?

He tucked the thought away as the Gym Leader continued. "The roots of Kanto's Gym Challenge come from way back in the First Shogunate Era, when each city-state had to defend itself from its neighbours! The leaders of each state, the Daimyo, were men and women who held incredible power, second only to the Shogun himself! And how do you think they held onto the power? That's right, Pokémon! There wasn't anything like Pokéballs back then, so people had to do it the old-fashioned way: beat 'em up and train 'em by hand!"

Surge paced from side to side, like he was giving the speech to real military recruits – which, technically, they actually were. "Even as the times changed and we entered the Second Shogunate Era, the system endured! In fact, the power the Daimyo wielded grew! As apricorns were shipped in from out west, the number of Pokémon any one person could control went from four or five, to dozens! It got to the point where there were so many, the Daimyo's families couldn't handle them all! So where did those extra Pokémon go? That's right, to their most loyal soldiers!"

Despite knowing Kanto's history front-to-back, Hoshi listened intently; some things were simply sacred. "As the second Shogunate fell apart and wild samurai turned to banditry, who was there to defend the cities? That's right, the Daimyo! But they didn't do it alone! They had their guards, their Pokémon Trainers, out patrolling the countryside! Trainers from different states met up, battled, and gained each other's respect!

"And so when Oak and the rest formed the Pallet League, that respect became an institution! You there, Sampo!" Ryan twitched as the Gym Leader called his name. "Where were you born?"

The blond continued to stand tall, belting out the answer with a volume to match Surge's own. "Viridian City, sir!"

"Viridian! You've come a long way, soldier!" From his pocket the Gym Leader drew a wooden case, opening it and plucking something from inside. He got up right in Ryan's face, his expression intense. "As the Vermilion City Gym Leader, a man who a hundred years ago would have been called Vermillion Daimyo, you've earned my respect! This badge, the Thunder Badge, is a symbol of that respect! Wear it with pride!"

Ryan was silent as Surge pinned the badge to his chest, his eyes shining like polished topaz.

"Rose! Your turn! Where you from, soldier?"

Nerine didn't twitch, though her face was turning a strange shade of pink. "F-fuchsia, sir."

"Fuchsia! Knew a lot of good men from there in my heyday, more loyal than anybody else! You beat me fair and square, and earned this badge!" He bent down and, like with Ryan, pinned the badge to her chest. "And third…"

He turned and moved to stand in front of Hoshi. "Hoshi Mutsu. Where were you born?"

Hoshi wet his lips. "I was born in Viridian, but I consider myself a Vermilion native, sir."

"You're damn right." Surge plucked a Thunder Badge from the case, and Hoshi took it in; an eight-pointed sunburst, yellow flames surrounding a red gem, the symbol of the Sunset City. "With this badge, the three of you are official members of Indigo's Pokémon Trainer Corps." Thick but dextrous fingers slid the pin through the shoddier blue of his own suit, securing the badge in place. "You've earned this. No matter where you got your Pokémon from, or how trained they were when you did, never question that." Surge's solemness lightened, his wild, savage expression returning. "You're a real trainer. Be proud."

He didn't cry, but it was a near thing.







Later, after the furniture and decorations and refreshments had been cleared away, his uncle approached Hoshi again. "So, kid. How'd you like it?"

He snorted softly. "I'll get you back for the banner. Becoming an adult…" But then Hoshi's voice turned sincere. "It was great. No idea why I put it off."

"Your old man was the same way, y'know. I had to basically drag the big lump to his own wedding."

The two stood, watching the other guests mingle with the remaining Gym personnel. Ryan and Puce were schmoozing with the old folks with Nerine in tow, while Casca and Kenny stood among the younger employees.

"Speaking of weddings…"

"Oh, don't even start. My answer hasn't changed; talk to me when I've got a house and a car."

Bob – and he was back to being Uncle Bob, now, not the Lieutenant – ruffled Hoshi's hair. "Fine," he said as his nephew sputtered. "An easier question, then. How far you gonna go, this season?"

Hoshi didn't need to think too much before answering. "I think I'm done for the year. Only a month left before the tournaments start."

"Yeah, but that's enough to get a second and third badge. You could compete in some of the low-level events – even if you don't win, those things are valuable experience."

This time, he did put some thought into his response. "I think that… If I'm going all the way to Viridian anyway, I want to go all the way. Champion Series or nothing."

"Ha! Cocky little shit! You think you're Champion material?"

Enduring a second hair-ruffling, Hoshi shot back. "Did you think you were Gym Leader material when you started?"

Bob blew out a laugh. "Ha! I did, and I was a cocky little shit back then, too! Seriously little man, you probably won't be ready for that kind of challenge for years. It'll go faster if you pace yourself."

"Yeah, but… I dunno. I can't explain it; it's just a feeling in my gut, telling me it isn't time yet. Maybe next year I'll change my mind, take some time off and see if I can't knock out a few more Gym Leaders."

"That's the spirit!"

The two continued to people-watch as the afterparty broke up, the Gym employees getting back to their jobs. Hoshi's group eventually wandered back together, and Bob gave them a nod.

"Well, I should probably be getting back to work. Take care of those badges, you three – and as for the rest of you, I'd better see you in here at some point for your own challenges! Ha!"

They took the cue, and Hoshi, his girlfriend, and his grunts put on their fancier-than-usual jackets and made for the exit – but a step from the door Hoshi stopped.

"Hey guys, wait up one second, alright?" he asked, then turned back around.


He found Bob polishing off the last scrapings of cake, and called out. "Hey, Lieutenant!"

His uncle turned. "Huh? What is it, kid? I thought you were already gone!"

"One last thing – you said you usually gave that speech to the eighth badge challengers… Well, I'm gonna make it true." Hoshi pointed. "I don't know when – next year, the one after, a decade from how – but I will fight your real team. When I've done my circuit around Kanto, gotten all seven other badges… I'll come back here for my eighth. Be ready!"

Surge grinned his bloodthirsty grin. "Ha! I accept your challenge, little man! Don't make me wait too long, now!"







On Monday, October 4th, 2010, Hoshi Mutsu woke up to find his bed empty. Huh, that's weird – I didn't sleep in again, so where's Casca?

He slipped out of bed, and almost immediately his question was answered: Casca was eating breakfast, bleary-eyed and uncoordinated as she spooned cereal into her mouth.

"Morning babe. You woke up before me two days in a row."

"Uhh," she replied, and he chuckled as he went towards the bathroom.

After he showered off the lingering results of yesterday's trip to the park, he returned to find she'd moved to the couch – though the television was off. Hoshi prepared his own breakfast with a strange twinge on the back of his neck, and as he slid in beside his girlfriend the twinge became a shudder. Wait…

"You smoking?" he asked, eyeing the unlit cigar she was turning over in her hands. "You only do that when you're stressed. What's up?"

"Hm? Oh, no, I wouldn't say I'm stressed." The cigar flipped this way and that, as if she was examining a strange alien object. "Just… thinking."

"About?" he asked, cautious. Did she change her mind? Maybe the psychic thing is too much after all…

Before she answered the woman gave him a soft bop on the nose with the stick of perfume-infused tobacco. He reared back, momentarily affronted as she smiled softly at him. "Don't think anything weird, stud."

"Hey, I'm perfectly rational."

She giggled, the sound… Oddly sad. Fuck, what's wrong? "I was just," she continued, "Remembering something your uncle asked me yesterday."

Oh, come on Bob. "If he said something about marriage, he was just teasing. That's the kind of guy he is; he likes to poke and prod until he finds a spot that sinks deep."

Casca hummed, then tossed the cigar down on the table. "Yeah, but… I'm realising that I don't have an answer to what he asked me." She leaned back. "Hoshi… What's it look like at the end? What are we aiming for, with us?"

Oh. This is… good? Maybe? "I… I've been trying to live my life one day at a time. Not stress out too much about stuff that might not happen."

"I love you," she said, and the three-word sentence bowled him over like a train had crashed into his forehead.

"Oh," was all he could say for a full second. Fucking talk, dumbass. "I… I love you too."

Is this the first time we've said that to each other? I think it is…

The apartment was silent for a moment, and then Casca blew out a breath. "I… I think love comes easy to me. The shallow kind, the kind that makes me a good listener and people person and all that. But… this feels different. I think I'm really in love with you, Hoshi Mutsu."

His mouth was dry, so he swallowed. "I feel the same way. Not about loving easy – I don't think I've ever really loved since my parents, not in the same way, not even Bob… But about this feeling different, yeah."

Another lingering silence before she spoke. "I should've done this yesterday, after the party. You need to get ready for work…"

Hoshi shook his head. "I've got time. Please, talk to me."

"I… I'd like to hear your answer. Your real answer, because I don't have one. What's the endgame? In a world where Hoshi Mutsu has won, what do things look like?"

He leaned forward, moving his breakfast from his lap to the table, then sunk back again. "That's a big question."

"It is. I've been living day-to-day too – for a lot longer than you have, I think."

Maybe. The silence returned as Hoshi pondered – and then it was explosively shattered as his Arcus damned alarm went off; he'd forgotten to turn the thing off in his haste to solve his girlfriend's disappearance.

…Well, that kind of answers some of it, at least, he thought as he angrily pressed a sequence of buttons embedded bone-deep into his muscle memory. I care enough to panic when I wake up and the bed is empty.

He returned to the couch in a slightly fouler mood, but in a way that was a good thing; the tension had been cut, and his thoughts felt clearer. "I…" he began, but then Hoshi paused and reversed direction. "In a perfect world… Well, first thing's first, Kanto is back in Kantonian hands."

Casca rolled her eyes. "Hoshi, I asked about us."

"Let me build up to it, okay? In that fantasy world where everything goes right…" He chewed on his words for a moment. "Fuck, I'm not sure what kind government we'd end up with. Go back to the Shogunate and try for a third time? Whatever; the important part is that Johto's out, and… the work is done." Another pause as he gauged Casca's mood, but all he got was a raised brow. "And I'm… My parents left me some land, right in the outskirts of Viridian, near Route 1. There used to be a house there, but it's gone now. Got wiped out when the war started, right after I was born…"

"It was a miracle," the memory of his father spoke unbidden. "If we'd left for groceries ten minutes later- it was a miracle."

Hoshi wet his lips. "In a world where everything is perfect… There would be a house there, again. I would… raise tauros, maybe."

"Not thinking of becoming Champion?"

He smiled. "No. I'm not… Maybe challenge the Champion. Maybe beat the Champion. But I wouldn't want to be the Champion, or the Shogun, or the Emperor or President or whatever. I don't have the head for that."

"Hoshi," Casca interrupted again, voice caught between amusement and exasperation and that still-lingering sadness. "You're obsessed with history and economics and nerdy shit. Where does Kanto ranch most of its beef?"

His lip curled at the non-sequitur, but he couldn't help but answer. "Pallet, but actually most of it we import from Johto. What's your point?"

She only shook her head, lips quirking. "Never mind. So… The perfect version of my man is a cowboy. You know, that kind of makes sense." The quirk turned into a smile, and a block of ice in his chest melted. "I can see it, a little bit. Keep going."

Oh, just keep going, like this is easy or something… "It would be a big house. Big enough for…" He swallowed again. "My wife. And… kids, I think."

"You think?"

"...Yes. Yeah, in a world that's completely perfect for me, there would be kids. But… Perfect is hard, right? Expecting everything to turn out the way I'd want…" He didn't know how to finish the sentence, so he let it die.

Casca's fingers fidgeted, obviously restraining themselves from reaching for the cigar. "I'm… not quite ready to think about getting married. Or… trying for kids." Hoshi held his breath. Please, came that old-feeling prayer, an unknown request to an unknown god. Please… "But I can't imagine waking up in someone else's bed anymore. Flirting with a guy as part of a job, yeah, seducing somebody maybe… But I think I'm ruined for one-night-stands."

She looked at him, not quite crying. "So… I'm with you. Let's try and get that cowboy home, stud."


They leaned against each other, silent and too comfortable to move, too emotionally exhausted to even hug. Eventually Hoshi groaned and forced himself up for work, and as he slipped his jacket on Casca ghosted a kiss along his chin that felt…

Just a little bit like the future.

He wasn't even late for work – and, he found, having a second hand made everything easier.
 
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Interlude - The Original Pokémaniac
"Ooh! And the challenger's blastoise takes a brutal knockdown from our host's arcanine! That looks like it hurts!"

Blaine watched placidly as the bulky turtle attempted to stand, his arms crossed and his jaw set. Meanwhile, on the other side of the arena, his opponent was in the exact opposite state of mind – she was all but pulling her hair out.

"Tuddle! You need to get up!" the young woman cried. "Think of how far we've come! It's just here and Fuchsia to go – we can do this! You have the advantage, you just need to stand up!"

"You know what that means folks!" the announcer continued, his excitement contrasting with the challenger's lament. "Time to spin the Penalty Wheel! And since it's a seventh badge challenge, we'll be using the hard mode selection!" The giant screen encompassing the entire wall opposite the stands let out a cheery tone, and the live audience roared. "Let's see what's in store!"

Five columns of differently coloured boxes appeared on the screen, each bearing a stylised symbol, and with a cavalcade of beeps and boops the roulette started. The woman finally seemed to realise what was happening, her eyes widening as she turned from her still-downed Pokémon to the screen. "Wait! Please, not another one! T-Tuddle's belly never hit the floor, he caught himself with his arms!"

The roulette went on, each box lighting up in sequence. The volume of the beeps increased as the speed slowed, until… "Ohh! Bad luck!" Her fate was sealed with a happy trumpet as the box bearing a lightning bolt blinked. "Electrified terrain! Oh well, it could be worse – this one effects both sides, after all!"

"Arcanine," Blaine quickly ordered as the ceiling opened, a deliberately-cartoonish lightning rod descending together with a puff of confetti. "Stay off the floor."

"Woof!" his Pokémon replied, moving before Blaine had even finished speaking. Extreme Speed took him directly up the textured surface of the safety glass enclosing the battlefield – meanwhile his opponent could only struggle, its trainer sending panicked shouts down as the blastoise managed to just get up on its knees.

"Tuddle! Hydro Pump before it hits! You have one more, I know it!"

The turtle's cannons swivelled upwards as it raised its head in defiant determination – but then the last razor-thin chance of an upset victory died as it hesitated, eyes unable to focus on the orange blur Blaine's arcanine had become. Arcs of electricity came down, blanketing the arena and shocking the vulnerable water type… and then, as if to add insult to injury, the giant dog ceased jumping from wall to wall to land directly on Tuddle's back.

The blastoise reflexively let loose its attack, water spraying from its twin cannons with incredible pressure, and the glass in front of Blaine's face cracked.

Hmm, not the worst attack. Arcanine might have been in trouble… Too bad the trainer couldn't handle the heat. The dancing tines of electricity ended a second later, and the announcer cheered as the blastoise stayed down. "Oh no, it looks like that's a knockout! With all six of her Pokémon unable to battle, I'm afraid that means Challenger Joyce is out of the game!"

A sad trumpet accompanied the words 'Game Over!' flashing on-screen, and as the safety panels retracted to let the distraught young woman return her Pokémon – which Arcanine was triumphantly using as a seat, to the audience's amusement – Blaine huffed in annoyance. Pah, the quality of my challengers has gone down since the Pokémon Professor passed. Can the youngsters really not stand to open a textbook anymore, unless it has the name Oak written on the front? Affecting a more vicious demeanour than he felt for the cameras, he returned his own Pokémon and gestured to the five unused balls embedded in the left arm of his chair. We didn't even make it to the mid-battle quiz… Then he flicked a toggle on the other arm, moved the joystick forward, and began making his way to the centre of the field.

A moment of sulking, and then the young woman pulled herself together to take the loss with grace. She joined him in the centre, and the crowd continued to cheer as she bent down to accept his offered handshake.

"I'll get you next year, Gym Leader," she promised, and he huffed out a laugh.

"Then you'd better burn the midnight oil and study hard! Really, getting four of the five quizzes wrong on the way up – I'm surprised you had three Pokémon left for the finale!"

She grimaced. "Yeah, well…" Unable to come up with a response, she simply ended the handshake and turned away. "Next year!"


After the brief, customary round of showboating, Blaine wheeled himself back into the innards of his Gym-slash-recording-studio. "So how'd it look, boys?"

Quinn, his top editor-slash-intelligence-agent, replied with an absent-minded thumbs-up as he reviewed the footage. "Looks pretty alright, Boss. Hmm, lot of challengers for a Monday… might have to cut this one to just the top highlights if it keeps up."

"Pah! As if there were highlights to cut!"

The man shook his head. "Nah, she absolutely smashed Zac on the first floor. Like I always say: the audience loves a good reversal. Just gotta find an angle where the cannons don't block the shot…"

The former burglar cycled through a number of shots, and Blaine left him to his work and continued deeper. As he went, the tunnels carved into Cinnabar's volcanic stone ceased to be filled with the controlled mess of a TV studio, instead transitioning to the differently controlled mess of a government-funded science lab. "Doctor," one of his underlings greeted as he entered.

"Zac. Poor showing today! Completely sputtered out!!"

The black-haired man scratched the back of his head. "Come on, she landed on the double-battle space and sent out two water types… Besides, isn't it better for ratings if more challengers make it through to you?"

Blaine hit a button on his chair's armrest, and a loud, negative buzzer issued from the overhead speakers. "Eh! Wrong answer! Taking a dive is one thing, losing in the first ten seconds another! You need to get fired up – Junior!"

His successor sighed from the corner, where he was hunched over a desk. "Really, again? Can you not do it yourself?"

The buzzer sounded a second time. "After hours, I want you to take Zac up and go a few rounds in the test chamber!" Blainetwo sighed again, and the old Gym Leader responded by jamming the wrong answer button a half-dozen times. "No complaining! You still aren't up to where I was at your age!" Kids these days… Pah, I've got no idea where he gets it from! "You should be taking every opportunity to train – I'm not going to be here forever, you know!"

"Arcus willing," the twenty-year-old shot back, and a different, more positive tone played.

"There we are! Good comedic timing! We'll make a Gym Leader out of you yet!"

His successor opened his mouth to retort – but before he could speak a third sound issued from the speakers, this one a more serious, down-to-earth klaxon. Then it was Blaine's turn to sigh.

"Darn it." There goes the Maniac Alarm. I was hoping we could go another month or two before hearing it again, but that's just how the dice fall, I suppose…

"Do you want me to get that for you, sir?" another scientist asked, and Blaine waved him off.

"No, I'll need something to occupy my time before the next challenge anyway. Everyone back to work – the future of scientific entertainment isn't going to build itself, you know!"

As the assorted geneticists, robotics engineers, data analysts, and miscellaneous researchers went back to their tasks, Blaine wheeled himself even further into the facility. He thumbed a button to mute the alarm for the minute it took to reach one of his rest-stations-slash-sealable-bunkers, and pulled over next to a brightly-painted telephone.

A moment to grab a drink from the fridge, another to brace himself, and then he picked up the receiver. "Hello Bill," he greeted enthusiastically. "What do you need?"







When Tamara had gotten herself hired by Bill Sonezuki – three years ago now – she had braced herself for the unpleasant prospect of being the servant of a sexual deviant.

After all, who else would hire personal maids in this day and age?

But very soon, she realised her mistake; Bill did not give her a single care, sexual or otherwise. And so she revised her opinion; the man must, she decided, be an even more deranged flavour of pervert: a pokéfiliac. After all, he was obviously obsessed with them; nine-tenths of the mansion's employees were mr. mime, the walls were festooned with framed paintings of his many prized eevee and clefairy – two Pokémon whose Johto population could be traced back entirely to him – and even the furniture was Pokémon-themed.

But, again, she was proven incorrect. Bill, it seemed, was truly pure. Over those three years she had gradually, haltingly uncovered the truth…

Bill Sonezaki, the greatest genius in Indigo, almost certainly the greatest genius on Earth, perhaps even the greatest genius in human history… was as naive and well-intentioned as a child.

That truth was more terrifying than any perversion she could imagine.


"Hello, Bill," she was just able to make out, the voice of Cinnabar's Gym Leader distorted and muffled by the long distance between their cities, then the thick walls of the Sonezaki manor, then the stretch of hallway between her and the door. "What do you need?" Tamara would have loved to have pressed her ear directly to the rich wood, but Mr. Bon and Ms. Chu were helping clean the section of hallway just a few metres away, and the two mimes were canny – they all were.

So she was forced to strain her ears to the breaking point, causing the soft sounds of shifting cloth squeaking against glass and stone to become near-deafening by their relative proximity. "Oh, it's just terrible, Professor!" Bill replied, his voice youthful despite being nearly forty. "Mister Pink has passed away! Everyone is so distraught, I could barely get out of bed this morning…"

The Gym Leader, TV celebrity, scientist, and spymaster sighed. "That's a shame," he said, voice flat under the put-on sympathy. "Why don't you tell me about it."

Tamara listened, ears beginning to ring as she polished a life-sized bust of Bill's grandfather's ninetails. The long, long monologue her employer gave was nearly completely vapid, but there were a few small nuggets of gold among the pyrite – small details about what the man had been doing with 'Mister Pink' in the sealed vault of his home lab.

Blaine replied with the occasional hum or comforting remark. Anyone else would have been able to tell the octogenarian was going through the motions, but Bill's emotional intelligence was directly inverse to his academic abilities. "…So you'll be needing a new ditto, then," he eventually said as the man who single-handedly catapulted technology forward a full century sniffled, genuinely distraught.

"Yes, I was about to get to that," Bill replied. "But first, I was wondering if you'd be able to attend the funeral? I know you haven't seen Mister Pink for years, but I'm sure his spirit would rest easier with his creator sending him off…"

"No, Bill. You know I see most of my challengers near the end of the season."

"Ah, I see…" Her employer cleared his throat. "I suppose I'll have to do the eulogy myself, then. Same price as last time?"

"Yes."

"Very good, I'll have my accountant take care of things. When can I expect..?"

"Between one week and two, Bill. Anything else?"

"Well, since I have you on the line…"

Another monologue, equally long and even more vapid, this time about Blaine's television show – or rather the Pokémon featured in Blaine's show. Part of the painfully mundane stream of words was drowned out by Ms. Chu bonking into an invisible wall set up by the other mime, and Tamara was almost thankful for the interruption – this conversation contained not a single speck of gold. Blaine eventually hung up after excusing himself, and the next moment she heard Bill's footsteps approaching. Her senses dulled just in time to avoid the screech of the study door against its frame.

Bill walked out into the hall – and bonked into a different wall. Oh- I didn't even see them set that one up. The thought was filled with self-admonishment; with family business taking her away from the mansion more and more, she was becoming less able to predict its inhabitants' movements.

He recoiled, held his nose for a moment… and then laughed.

"Oh, thank you for the effort, Sir and Miss. I'm in sore need of levity today…"

The mimes responded by passing an invisible ball back and forth – whether they were merely miming or actually juggling balls of psychically-stilled air, Tamara could not tell. "Ma?" one of them – Ms. Chu – croaked, and Bill waved his hand sadly.

"No, no. You get on with your work. I have to make… preparations." Tears sparkled in the corners of his eyes, and once again Tamara's gut twisted at the sight.

This is the most dangerous man in the entire world. The weapons Johto cajoled out of him kept us in the war, and I don't think he even remembers they exist – if he ever decided to do it on purpose, he could turn the continent into a smoking crater within an hour.

He passed, clasping the mimes on their shoulders as he went, doing the same for Tamara after a moment of hesitation – as if the human figure were corrosive. "Pardon, I didn't think to ask; will you be joining us for the funeral?"

Tamara nodded. "Of course, sir. Mister Pink was a member of the household."

Bill's smile was guileless. "Thank you, I'm sure he'll appreciate it." He continued down the hall, and Tamara rubbed down the marble as quickly as she could without risking damaging it under the watchful eyes of Mr. Bon and Ms. Chu.







The Sonezaki manor was a strange place – not necessarily for any quality of the grounds themselves, but moreso the location. Bill's mansion stood along Goldenrod's coastline, its surrounding greenery a sharp contrast to the towering buildings that were visible in the distance. Once, the residence had been a single house among many; now it stood alone, apartments and strip malls replaced by rolling hills and forest, countryside so pristine it was difficult to believe any human had ever touched the land.

It was surreal; even after years worth of familiarity, she still sometimes looked at just the right angle to spot a piece of familiar city in the distance, causing her brain to go we should be seeing buildings here and short-circuit.

The amount of money Bill had poured into the reserve had been astronomical, almost ten times as much as he'd ever spent on his former lab north of Cerulean – and that was before counting the new lab itself, whose surface was only a tiny shed adjacent to the home, but which Tamara knew descended down into the earth for a startling distance.

She eyed said lab as she carried the ditto's casket together with another mime, Mr. Peggle. Most likely he'll be going there after the ceremony – now, what are the odds that the password has changed since last time?

Her gait was slow, the pace of the short train being set by Bill. The man was dressed in his ceremonial robes – pure white with voluminous sleeves – and he brandished his wand with every step. The jangling of the attached chain accompanied a chant in the old tongue, giving the slow-moving group a solemn and, dare she say it, holy air.

Behind Bill walked a pair of jynx, dressed similarly to their master, who were whistling softly in time with the chain's percussion. Then came a pair of umbreon, silent, their heads tilted up where the other mourners' were lowered. Then a pair of misdreavus, then her and the mime with the casket, two more maids, a second pair of ghosts – and finally, taking up the rear, Bill's wife. Lady Miu was garbed identically to her husband, though she waved her chain-bedecked wand in a mirrored pattern and her chant was modern Kantonian.

…I probably shouldn't risk it. While he's probably too distraught to think about security, probably is enough to get me killed. Better to wait until I can confirm things with my eyes. It was always frustrating that the most simplistic way of entering the sealed area – slipping in unseen the moment Bill himself opened the door – was impossible; two of her sisters had paid with their lives to discover the motion sensors covering the entrance.

The train continued to move, going from mansion to forest to clearing, and eventually they came to a small sign of humanity: a graveyard, large stones arranged in a pattern that was just artificial enough to draw the eye. A pit had already been dug, the gravestone and shovel made ready, and a crude wooden altar built nearby.

As Bill reached the altar he turned aside, the jynx and umbreon following while the ghosts, Tamara, and her fellow pallbearer continued straight ahead. This would usually be the part where the body was removed to be sanctified, but given the tight wax seal already applied to the casket – and the sloshing she could feel as they moved – the sequence had obviously been modified to account for the deceased's… nature.

So she simply set the casket upon the altar, turning to join the other mourners to the side with Bill. Most would consider the Johtonian genius's formal training as an Arcean priest to be an interesting factoid at best, but from the way he carried himself, the steadiness of his chanting and the precision he put into each movement, it was obvious the man considered this an important part of his life; equal if not superior to his greatest inventions.

The chant paused as Miu took up the other side of the altar, the priest and priestess bowing towards the deceased as the ghosts cavorted above.

"Mister Pink," they each said, voices entwined. "Please rest easy, so that your body may return to the earth, and your spirit be born anew. So that the great creator might reach His many hands down and embrace you as His child. So that enmity and corruption do not follow you, and cause your spirit to linger."

They each reached down, drawing earthen pots from under the altar. At this point they finally de-synced; Lady Miu moved to anoint the casket in seawater, then after she finished her husband did the same with pure springwater. The ghosts dancing above grimaced, their faces contorting into hideous expressions that made even Tamara's pulse slacken.

The four misdreavus flew off, and their departure marked the ceremony's success. Tamara and Mr. Peggle stepped forward to lift the casket together, depositing it into its grave with swift, clinical motions – the both of them had performed this ceremony many times, after all.

Despite his very genuine compassion, Bill's laboratory discharged a steady stream of corpses; this was far from the only cemetery hidden among the trees.

She swiftly filled the grave in with the aid of the shovel, and then Mr. Peggle levitated the stone up, across, and down, sweat dripping from his jowls from the strain. It made only the softest sound of shifting earth as it settled in its place, and with that her part was complete.

Now… the eulogy. The thought was tired; while it was impressive that Bill was able to contort a life spent mainly in a tube into an hour-long account of the Pokémon's quirks and virtues, it was not particularly interesting. She sighed internally as the man stood in front of the stone.

"I have known Mister Pink for two years, and though that is only a fraction of my life I cannot put to words the-"

Tamara was jolted back to awareness at the sudden pause, raising her eyes to see her employer frowning as his wife whispered in his ear.

Then her eyes flicked to the umbreon. Damn. She would greatly like to eavesdrop on the private conversation happening less than five metres away, but the cemetery's guardian Pokémon would detect even the faintest hint of her ninjutsu should she use any in their proximity. Something that can make Bill pause his routine – it must be important.

After a minute of whispered discussion Bill huffed, stepping around his wife to address the mourners. "Apologies, but could you please return home for now? Something urgent has come up; I will of course inform you when the rest of the funeral is ready to take place."

The assorted employees looked at each other, and then as one turned to leave. The only figure not moving with the crowd was Makoto, the most recently hired maid.

"Do you require assistance, sir?" she asked, and Lady Miu shook her head.

"No, darling, please return to the house."







The young maid took a sip of her tea, nodding to the mime as it departed. "They are cute together, don't you think?"

Shojiko, the third maid in the funeral trio, waved away her junior's statement. "Not at all; I've never seen them so much as hold hands. It was obviously an arranged marriage."

Makoto frowned. "I hope you're wrong. Lady Miu is so beautiful, it would be such a waste if she were stuck in a loveless marriage…"

"They do love each other," Tamara broke in, her mouth moving on autopilot as she debated the various actions open to her in her head. Do I try it? They sent the umbreon away, but I don't know where they are – if they catch me, that's a big mess I'll have to clean up. "You can tell by the way they look at each other, it's obvious."

Makoto brightened, while Shojiko only rolled her eyes. "Sure, Tamara, sure. It's definitely not just a cover while he canoodles his harem of jynx."

The younger girl made a sound of disgust, scandalised. "Sho! You can't say that!"

"Don't be naive. Men only keep jynx around for one reason, and it isn't the singing."

But on the other hand, I've been out of the loop for a long time. Extenuating circumstances keep drawing me away; I haven't seen the interior of the lab for almost a year now. Knowing what Bill's up to is important, for me, the family, and Johto… Tamara shook her head lightly. "You know, those stories are really overblown. Jynx look like women, but they're closer to clams in terms of anatomy; if he was screwing anything it'd be the clefairy."

Makoto turned her scandalised look her way, putting her teacup down. "Tamara, not you too! Seriously, you both need to get your minds out of the gutter!" She crossed her arms. "I'm sure Bill and his wife are perfectly normal."

As the two maids continued to argue, Tamara made up her mind. I'll risk it; if I have to disappear a few umbreon afterwards, then that's a consequence I'm willing to shoulder. In the time it took to snap one's finger's – and with that sheer speed producing a similar sound – Tamara drew a Spore-coated needle, pierced each woman a single time in the thickest parts of their eyebrows, and caught their unconscious bodies before they could tumble from their chairs.

A few minutes at least before the butler comes back with further refreshments. A single half-second to make sure neither woman would topple over from a stiff breeze – and then she was off, wincing as her passage caused a soft rustling to follow in her wake, leaves and stems disturbed by the movement of the air her body displaced. Sloppy. I've grown too used to urban environments, my forestry has gone dull…

But despite the rustiness, she still made it back to the cemetery's outskirts within twenty seconds. She crouched in the shadow of an oak as the forest's low susurrus became a badly-played symphony, each musician substituting skill for volume.

And then, over the wind and buzz of insects, she heard it – three heartbeats, one slow and strong, one soft and quick, and the last both strong and quick. That third was Bill, the second his wife, the first…

Tamara had not the slightest idea. Bill wouldn't pause the funeral for just anyone. So who?

She listened, bidding any of the three to speak and reveal something, but none of them did. Frustration caused her muscles to tense as one minute passed, then another – until finally Bill opened his mouth.

"I'm not sure you should trust him, Mister Tu." Tu? Perhaps Two. Most likely a codename. Someone from a different family? "That man… I don't like to think poorly of people, but he's deceived you before, hasn't he?"

Another silence, and Tamara's internal clock told her it was time to go. She cursed internally as she flashed away; she'd learned basically nothing.

A half-minute later she was back at the dainty table, rubbing away the tiny dried scabs caught in her fellow maids' hair. Next came the antidote – administered orally through the gums – and for a moment the two jerked, groggy and insensate, before the stimulant washed away all trace of sleep. Shojiko and Makoto blinked in-sync before their eyes focused, the moment of intense disorientation hiding the fact that they were suddenly in slightly different positions.

"Huh?" the younger grunted. "What was I..? Oh, that's right!" She pointed a finger at Shojiko, frowning. "You shouldn't say that about our master! It isn't like you've seen him act untoward, right? You can't just accuse someone of… that so easily!"







Bill looked between his wife and his wife's son, trying and failing to dredge up a series of words to dispel the tension. "Please," he attempted, "Let's not get into that old argument again. Honey, even if he changes his name he's still-"

"I" Two interrupted, his voice deep and voluminous without being loud. "Am not her son. She is no more my parent than Fuji. It was a mistake to come here…"

He turned, beginning to stalk off, but the love of Bill's life raised her hand and Two stopped. "You have not found the answer to your question, though."

"And I doubt you have little to say to me. The human gave better advice than you, Mew."

She smiled. "You did not come here for advice. Only a mirror, so that you might look upon your own thoughts. I will ask you a question: do you wish to forgive? Or to hold on to the past?"

Two was silent as he stood, back turned to the pair. Then, without another word, his figure blurred and disappeared.

"…Honey, I think that might not have been the best thing to say. You know calling him by his old name makes him cross…"

His wife's smile lingered as she swept to the side, brushing her hand against the stone of Mister Pink's grave. "Perhaps I'd like him to be cross. It makes him more honest with himself." She shook her head, the soft pink of her hair dancing as one of the misdreavus came back to make a sharp loop around her neck, hiding in its crook.

"…Well, I suppose you would know him best." Bill looked to the sky, and for the briefest moment something blue flashed in the distance. Then it was gone.

"Oh, not at all," Mew conceded, stroking the ghost with slender fingers. "He is of your people as much as mine. But come, let us draw back the crowd for Mister Pink's service; I wish to hear your thoughts on his life."

Bill smiled, allowing the heavy emotions Two had brought with him to leave. "Yes, you're completely correct. Oh, I can't wait to meet his brother – do you think Blaine would let me come to his island to pick him up? He said I was banned, but that was weeks ago, so surely he's forgotten all about me lending a few Master Balls to those young ladies…"
 
5.01 - Time Limits
Hoshi strained, strained, strained – and yet the needle stubbornly refused to move, even as nausea clawed its way up and down the inside of his body cavity. "I don't think I can do it, Doc…"

Hypno scribbled on his notepad. "No, you definitely can," he murmured, voice nearly inaudible. "These readings are quite good." Then the doctor's voice rose, his hand doing the same to gesture at the man sitting despondently behind his back. "Nephew, give him another demonstration, would you? Watch closely this time, grunt."

Hoshi sighed and the heavyset Rocket Hunter made a sour face, but they both still obeyed; Kiribo raised his hands to his temples, and – this time without the dramatic moan – imparted a telekinetic force upon the thick needle of the testing device. It shot to the right, stopping halfway between the centre and edge, and Hoshi did his absolute best to feel what he was doing.

But as was becoming familiar, he couldn't make out any psychic 'colours' beyond the orange sparks floating off the man's sparkling eyes. Cartoons and movies always put some kind of visual effect on stuff like this… I guess reality has a smaller special effects budget.

His brows came together. It's the same as it always is… I completely fail the test, Hypno says it was a good result, rinse and repeat. Even two weeks in, Hoshi had yet to do anything actually identifiable as psychic – a surprisingly frustrating experience, given that he still didn't know if he actually wanted the prognosis to be true. Come on… Activate! Psych on! Hoshi, use Foresight! Psychic! Confusion! Hypnosis! Agility!

Though Hypno had explained multiple times – mostly unprompted – that human psychics operated under completely different mechanisms from psychic type Pokémon, yelling moves in his head still did one important thing: it released tension. Hoshi managed to ungrit his teeth as the needle slid slowly back to neutral, Kiribo's stamina depleted.

"Now your turn."

Okay, let's try again… twice as hard this time. He stifled another sigh as he concentrated on the testing device, forced determination and bored disappointment warring as he lifted the bulky Psy-Wave Detection Tools to point at the needle. He pushed, attempting to move a muscle he wasn't sure he even had, all while Doc Hypno cooed distractingly at the numbers flashing across the screens jutting from the gloves' sides.


An hour later, Hoshi exited the lab. He was sweaty, worn-out, and his head rang like a cracked bell – but he knew the latter would be gone in an hour, and he had actually managed some progress: he hadn't thrown up a single time. "Uhhh…" he groaned, cracking his neck.

"Hnnn," Kiribo agreed. "Are you certain you aren't sandbagging, Senior Grunt? I realise my reaction to the discovery of your talent was… perhaps just slightly overblown, but I assure you I've put it behind me."

"Fuck no," Hoshi replied. "Do I look like I'm fucking sandbagging?" All that your freakout did was make me want to get stronger to spite you – I didn't think for a fucking second about quitting. Well, Kiribo's tantrum hadn't made him think about quitting; the stardust injections had made a much more convincing, if still inadequate, argument. All because I apparently have a bigger psychic dick than you do. Fucking gradeschool-level shit…

"No," the Hunter conceded. "Pardon, that was an ill-thought sentence." He raised his fist, voice regaining a touch of his usual vim. "I'm certain your powerful abilities will manifest themselves soon enough! In fact… it might simply be that you're the type that learns best on the field of battle! Yes, the moment it becomes necessary, your psychic potential shall explode!" He punctuated the word with another pose, and Hoshi swallowed another sigh.

Sure, and then Guts will spontaneously evolve into a never-before-seen super-raticate, Johto will be swallowed by the sea, and you'll start calling me by my actual name. "I'm sure. Hey, why don't you get any of this star-shit while we're testing?"

"Ah, you see…" Kiribo said, and Hoshi mentally kicked himself. Damn it, why did I make him talk more? This headache is gonna kill me if it keeps up… "The catalyst for my powers is simply different from yours! While you draw strength from the stars above, my telekinesis comes from motion; the more I move, the more force I can impart!"

I'm going to give him the benefit of the doubt and assume that wasn't an intentional pun. "So why don't you move around while doing the finger thing?"

"Well…" For a moment the man looked embarrassed, but then Hoshi blinked and the expression was gone. "I cannot exactly jump around while surrounded by fragile equipment, now can I?"

Hoshi smelled bullshit, but with the pulsing in his head he didn't feel the need to root around for it – especially as the stairs to the ground floor approached. "…Sure. Anyway, I'm gonna hit the showers and head home. See you tomorrow." He lurched up towards freedom, but found that the conversation had yet to end.

"Actually, I believe this will be the last time we see each other for at least a fortnight; I have finally received a mission befitting my stature."

Hoshi looked back as he crested the stairs, his eyes narrowing in envy. "Oh yeah?" And here the rest of us are, left high and dry for weeks – I can only train so hard with nothing to train for. "Think the instructors will be giving some action to the rest of us?"

Kiribo's mouth opened, but then he hesitated. "…Pardon, I should probably not speak of it. A higher-ranking grunt you might be, but you are still only a grunt." He pointed upwards. "Advance another rank, and I'm certain Rocket's true heights shall open to you!"

Hoshi grumbled back, then made for the showers. "Yeah, I'll get back to you on that," he muttered as the Hunter receded behind him. Senior Grunt only has three career paths: Agent, which I don't think I'm cut out for; Executive, which I'm not nearly strong or rich enough to try and break into yet; and Enforcer, which according to Casca is a dead-end for useless meatheads. His girlfriend wasn't exactly an academic, but he trusted her implicitly when it came to the social aspects of their shared career – if she said Executive was what he should be aiming for, then Hoshi would take that longer, slower path.

…Though if I want to build up my name, it would really help to get a damn job. Hah, can't know what's going on 'till I'm promoted, but can't climb the ranks while things are going on. Think I saw a movie with that premise, once…


The dressing room adjacent to the pool was empty as he entered, which suited his current mood just fine. I'm crankier than usual today – I was really hoping for something to happen. But no, it had just been another lesson, and not even from the instructors, followed by the same tests he'd been repeating since the start of the month. Hoshi pulled his clothes off, set them in a locker, and stepped over to the showers – which were also empty. Not a lot of people going swimming with the heatwave over, I guess. Would have expected one or two heading for the hot tub, though… whatever. It was probably just the hour; the tests had been getting longer with each visit, and if it kept up he was afraid Hypno would insist on him staying overnight.

Bleh…

A lightning-quick round of near-steaming water cleared his head some, and as he redressed himself Hoshi felt… clean, in a way that had nothing to do with the thin coating of sweat he'd washed off. He'd started to notice the effect after his third round in the basement's torture chamber, as he was beginning to call it. Like…Snow, almost. Everything going white and soft.

I'm not sure if it's just a placebo, but…
It made him optimistic in a way the tests very much did not. Still wish I could actually do something, but at least the nightmares have stopped. He stood for a moment, luxuriating in the feeling of not having bile crawling up has throat, and then with a private nod to himself Hoshi reached for his jacket-

"Grunt Mutsu!" came a deep and feminine voice from behind his back. Hoshi's spine nearly exited his mouth from how hard he jumped, and he whirled to find the instructors sitting on a bench on the opposite side of the room.

"Ma'am-!" he said, voice showing his rattled bones more clearly than he'd have liked. This is the men's room! N-not that it really matters. "And, uh, sir. Did you need something?"

Jessie and James didn't look nearly as tired as they had on that day where Hypno had given his lecture, but there was a certain raggedness under their skin that came out despite their mostly-immaculate appearance.

"I'm so glad you asked!" answered James. "But first, a question for you…"

"What did you think of today's lesson?" Jessie finished.

"Uh…" The day's class – which had been centred on disguises, mainly using makeup to obscure one's facial shape – had again been taught by a 'substitute,' for lack of a better word: Sierra Chispan, Rocket Agent. "It was fine? I'm sure knowing how to change my appearance will come in handy somehow."

Jessie hummed. "You weren't too bored?"

"We're sure this is all old-hat for Fuchsia's second-largest ninja clan, after all."

Hoshi blinked. Do they not..? No, they obviously would have investigated the non-Surge parts of my family, too. They're fishing for something – though I can't imagine what. His lips tightened, but after a moment's thought he couldn't dredge up a reason to conceal something so simple. "No, I'm not really part of the ninja-bits of the clan. Dad was formally banned from practice after giving up the heir's seat and leaving Fuchsia."

The two scrutinised him with an intensity that made his lips curl, and again Hoshi had no idea why. There's no way they didn't know that already, it's not even slightly secret. "…Is there a problem, sirs?"

They turned to each other – no doubt communicating something soundlessly, since when they turned back their expressions were less skeptical. "It just so happens that we've been having a bit of a ninja problem, Senior Grunt," James said.

"Yes. I hope you don't hold it against us that we'd… double-check certain things."

Hoshi's mouth was suddenly dry. "Uh. Yeah, I…" Fuck fuck fuck fuck- "I can see where you're coming from. Is there… something I can do to..?" Are my fucking relatives going after Rocket? Arcus above…

"Oh, I know!" Jessie suddenly exclaimed. "James, are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"You mean, that little thing? It would free up our busy schedule some… Yes, I agree!"

Hoshi's own expression turned skeptical as the two Senior Executives smiled at him. I feel like I've somehow walked into a trap without moving. "Senior Grunt," James said, "You wouldn't happen to be free this next week, would you?"

"I… I have psychic testing with Hypno, and my normal job, and..?"

Jessie waved her hand, dismissing his answer. "Oh, I'm sure a word to the right people will get you a week of extra holidays. Assuming you're willing to do us a favour, yes? I'm sure a go-getter like yourself is going spare from boredom."

"Yes, unfortunately we don't have anything in the way of the traditional skullduggery we'd give to a team of your level – things are a bit stuffed up right now."

"But we do have a special job, if you'd like to earn a little extra credit…"

Hoshi's confusion began to clear. Ah, so that's how it is. Scare me with the ninja thing, then push me to reaffirm my loyalty and all that. "I'm planning to go visit some family for the Harvest Festival, but I don't need to leave until the 27th. What do you need me to do?"

Jessie smiled. "Well, usually we try to keep our fingers on the pulse of every single baby Rocket that comes in…" she began.

"But, as we've said, things are starting to come to a head."

"So though we'd love to give this season's new recruits the personal touch you and your peers received…"

Hoshi read between the lines as they sent pointed looks his way. "You… want me to help set up another tournament?"

"Oh, not a tournament," James corrected. "We don't have nearly enough free hands for that."

"We were thinking something along the lines of a wilderness camp – there are a few other grunts with idle hands, and roughing it down in Route 14 or 15 for a week would help toughen you all up some."

"And foster a stronger bond with your fellow Rockets! Ah, the fresh air, the verdant wilds…"

"The horrible swarms of venomoth!"

"Yes, those too! So, what do you think?"

Hoshi blinked, still feeling as though he was being pushed into a corner. Oh, fuck off with the self-pity. You were literally just angry about not having anything to do. "I guess I could put something together. How many people?"

Jessie nodded his way, pleased. "Your group of six, plus another group of three, plus the new recruits."

"Which makes twelve in total! Here's all the contact information you need; feel free to bring the receipts for tents and other supplies up to Grunt Nak for reimbursement!"

James shoved a slip of paper into his hands, and Hoshi sputtered from the speed the conversation had progressed. "Uh, sure. But, where are we going? This isn't, like, a mission mission is it?"

"Oh, don't worry," Jessie answered as the two walked out of the dressing room. "As long as you're out of the city a few days-"

"Along with the rest of the grunts!"

"-Then we'll be happy to pay you for your time. Don't worry about talking to Mister Everheart – and try not to step on any nidoran while you're out there, they hate that!"

They turned, blue and red hair swishing like they were the stars of a shampoo commercial – an impression that was only enhanced by the bathroom-adjacent aesthetic of the locker room. James met his eyes as he paused at the threshold – and for a single sliver of a moment Hoshi thought he saw a sparkle of something brighter, dancing in the black of the man's pupils. "We'd prefer you took the rookies straight out of the academy-"

"Tomorrow at two, sharp!" Jessie interjected.

"-But if you can't make it… well, that's life!" And with those closing remarks, they were gone. Hoshi looked down, unfolding the slip to find a list of names, addresses, and a lesser number of phone numbers than he'd have hoped in quite possibly the smallest text he'd ever seen – it was less legible than the most inconspicuous of warning labels on a sketchy pillbottle.

…Well, I guess I'm going camping? His expression twisted as he read the names, attempting to memorise them in anticipation of actually meeting these people. Damn it, I could've put off buying good boots and had Rocket pay for them…







"…And then they just left," Hoshi finished. Casca spooned some more fried mushrooms into her mouth, chewed, swallowed, and then paused for a few extra seconds of thought before replying.

"Huh. It's hard for me to imagine them doing it that way – it seems, like, out of character? Not the appearing from nowhere bit, but…"

"Yeah, I was mostly just confused. You know any of these guys?"

Hoshi put down his fork to dig in his pocket, passing the slip over before taking his own bite of their supper. I'm glad she thought to wait for me to get home. Eating together feels… better, somehow.

Casca hummed. "I've known Mimi for a long time, but not the other two. Or maybe..?" Her eyes narrowed in concentration as she stared at the miniscule text. "I think I've heard the names 'Clifford Moon' and 'Kaz Kazubara' before? Give me a minute to think."

Hoshi nodded, and the two went back to their food as the apartment's ancient DVD player beamed Castelia 1999 into their eyes and ears. It got kind of weird at the end too. 'As long as you're out of the city,' was that meant to be ominous as shit? Hoshi didn't know how to feel, and he wasn't able to break the thought spiral before Casca spoke again.

"Oh! I just realised!" she exclaimed. "Kazubara – that's probably Big-Haired Bart. Guy's got, like, the biggest pompadour you've ever seen. If he put his hair down I'm sure it'd go all the way past his knees." She twirled her fork, satisfied. "The other guy's an Enforcer; worked with him once when I was just starting out, if it's who I'm thinking about. Big tall guy, face like a block of granite, never shuts his mouth. Again, if I'm thinking of the right person."

Hoshi returned the list to his pocket, grunting in affirmation. "Thanks for the info. Nothing for the other three?"

Casca shook her head. "Nope. I don't really look into anyone who's lower than me on the totem pole, you know?"

"Yeah," he replied, and for a few minutes they watched the old movie, polishing off their plates. "So, tomorrow," he eventually said as the credits rolled. "I'm thinking we could go house-to-house together? I'm a lot more stable when I've got your hand on my back."

His girlfriend twirled her fork again, her fingers turning the utensil into a weightless blur of silver. "I was gonna hit the Gym's battle courts, but yeah, this is way more important. Let me see the addresses again?"

He passed the paper back over, then gathered both their dishes and made for the sink. "I looked at it for a bit before leaving the academy. Shouldn't be too hard to find the places." Why does nobody own fucking phones in this city? Okay yeah, we're criminals, but come on.

"Yeah, I can already see the path in my head – start with our people, or end with them?"

"I was thinking we'd start on the east side with Puce, then go west and end with Kenny."

The two debated lazily for a few minutes, eventually ending up with a south-to-north-with-a-few-detours path through the city. Get the others on board first, have them pick up the supplies while we're making contact with these other three Rockets. The Enforcer might take some convincing… From Casca's laconic description of the man, Hoshi was already bracing to deal with an overly-macho ass.

And then there are the new recruits. The fact that he was now no longer considered a rookie felt strange – but when he thought about it, Hoshi had to admit it was true. We only did the one big job, but it was a pretty big job. Three months into working with M&S, I pretty much had everything down… so why do I feel like I'm still only starting out?

He pondered the question all the way to bed, and as he drifted to sleep Hoshi had only come up with the unsatisfying silhouette of an answer.

I guess I'm comparing being a Rocket to being a Pokémon Trainer, when really the two skillsets only overlap at the edges…







Sunday was basically perfect; warm with a cool breeze, not a single cloud in the sky, with a certain pleasant tang to the air from the bay. The contrast only made it extra frustrating when things hit a snag almost immediately. "She's not home?"

"Afraid not," Mauve, his underling's massive father, answered. "She should still be out at Vermillion Gym. Oh, I should thank you for introducing her to Mister Kimigawa! He's an absolute delight!"

Hoshi's brain attempted to go in several directions, 'She's training on her own?' pulling against 'Kiribo came to her house?' grappling with 'I've only got six hours, there's no time for this, I should've come by yesterday despite only getting home after sunset.' He closed his eyes for a moment, banishing the competing thoughts.

"Well… thank you for telling us that, Mister Gracile," he said, and Casca continued without pause.

"We hope stealing her away for a surprise trip isn't messing with your holiday plans."

The man waved them off. "I'm just glad she's finally found something she enjoys. Even just a few weeks back, I don't think I'd have been able to imagine her challenging someone to a Pokémon battle!" Yeah, that was my thought too. She's been a bit more assertive since we pulled off the Gym job, but going out to the Battlegrounds is almost uncharacteristically bold. "Though we should probably keep this hush-hush from her mother – Mint can be a bit of a helicopter parent!" Mauve laughed, the sound comparable to an exploding voltorb, and sent Hoshi a wink.

"Er, sure. Well, I'm on a bit of a time limit, so..?" Another wave, this one of physical dismissal. "Thanks.

"We'll be sure to visit after the trip!" Casca tacked on as they departed, heading west down the street.

Damn it. I know this is hypocritical, but is it too much to ask for people to answer their damn phones? Or to own a phone, in Kenny and Nerine's case. Well… it could be worse. At least we know where she is. "Nerine next?"

"Lead the way."


A brisk walk to the outskirts of the Young District saw the two of them to Nerine's apartment without incident. Hoshi led the way up the stairs and knocked on her door, almost feeling each second peeling away. Calm down. We can afford to skip Kenny and Puce in favour of picking up the new rookies if we need to, then tell the others what's happening after. There's no reason to-

The door opened, and an absolutely wretched-looking teenager greeted him with bleary eyes. "Hoshi? It's like, ten AM…"

"Nine. Look, the instructors dropped an emergency job on us last-minute; we need to take a batch of new recruits out for a… camping trip sort of thing. It's probably more important than I'm making it sound."

Nerine blinked at him. Her eyelids were heavily discoloured with Sleep Powder, and the dark purple even bled into the whites of her eyes. That's not normal. How much is she using? "Wha..? Camping? Like, now?"

"After lunch, yeah," Casca answered. "Are you okay? You've been looking kinda zombie the last week, but it wasn't this bad."

Nerine was silent for long, painful seconds. Hoshi's feet wanted to move, to get to Kenny's house in the Old District as soon as possible in case something blew up in their collective faces, but a shoulder-bump from his girlfriend quieted the urge to do something… harsh. "Lunch?" the girl eventually said, and Hoshi felt more than saw the familiar red filter descend over his vision.

"Yes," he choked out. Arcus, is her drug problem really this bad? This can't just be her 'having trouble sleeping,' right? "Can you get to the academy today? Like, about…" His watch said 8:40, which calmed his nerves some. "Five hours from now?"

"Yeah..?" Nerine replied. "Wait, we have lessons today? Since when?"

Hoshi swallowed down the panic-born anger as Casca swept in front of him. "Hey stud," she whispered back. "Why don't you go get Kenny? Nerine's obviously not up to buying any supplies; I'll get her to the academy, try and get her sobered up, and then you can meet me there." In a more normal volume she continued, "Nerine, honey, you have got to learn to pace yourself on the weekends, girl. Lemme come in here and get you some water…"

Casca gently but firmly pushed her way into the apartment, and nodded Hoshi's way as she took control of the situation. With great reluctance he nodded back, and the door closed.

The anger ceased, all at once, leaving him with just the vague panic of the strict timetable. Okay. That's… not a bad plan. Hoshi took a deep breath, held it, then let it out. Then he descended the stairs, and exited back onto the busy morning streets.

Zero for two, his subconscious supplied, and he took another breath before turning west.







Okay, I'm going to need to not freak out, Hoshi thought to himself as he crested the steps to his final Vermilion-living underling's home. He's going to have broken his leg doing stunts on his bike, or his granny's in the hospital, or they've gone away on holidays early. That's what's going to happen, and I need to not. Freak. Out. I can do that, right?

He was… pretty sure he could. So Hoshi braced himself for a third failure in a row, and knocked on the door.

Thirty seconds passed, and just as he was about to knock again the door opened. "Yes? Who's there?" The tanned face of Kenny's grandmother poked out from the door, her expression distinctly annoyed.

Okay, cross off disaster scenarios two and three. Progress. "Hello, ma'am. I'm Hoshi, Menard's work friend. Is he home at the moment?"

"Of course, we were just about to go to church. Come in, come in…"

Hoshi managed to keep the reflexive grimace the word church instilled in him from reaching his face, stepping inside and removing his boots. The old woman led him to the kitchen, and then her voice raised a startling degree as she called up the narrow stairs. "Menard! You have a guest!"

Impressive set of lungs for her age, yeesh…

A moment later footsteps sounded out, and Hoshi was treated to the sight of Kenny in an old-fashioned white suit. "Boss?"

"Hey, Kenny," he greeted. "You, uh, gonna be at church for long?" Fucking- ugh. Zero for fucking three, calling it now.

Kenny frowned. "Probably? Why?"

"The bosses dropped an emergency job right on my head as I was leaving yesterday. All of us have to come in and pick up a group of newbies, then cart them out to the woods for a week."

"The woods? Fuckin' why?"

Hoshi gestured towards the old woman – who looked to be preparing tea – with his eyes. "A… team-building exercise, I guess."

The muscular skinhead's eyes narrowed. "…When?"

"We're supposed to leave today at two. I was hoping you could take some money and bike down to that camping supply place for some tents and shit, but…" Arcus, could they have not given me one more day of advance warning? "I'm guessing that's not on the table. I can stall things if I need to, but – are you even okay to leave town suddenly?"

Kenny's face went thoughtful for a moment, an expression Hoshi wasn't used to seeing on the wide, acne-ridden expanse. "Actually… You said a week, right?"

Hoshi's heart dared to inject some hope into his chest. "Yeah. I'm planning to be back by next Sunday at the latest. Is that..?"

Kenny smiled. "Oh yeah, that'll work. Me 'n Nana are goin' up to Pewter to visit my uncle, but we don't need to be there until, like, Wednesday. I can totally do some camping – lemme talk to Nana real quick."

Hoshi let the bulky man pass, and as he had a muttered discussion with his grandmother the Senior Grunt felt a cool wave of relief pass down his body like static. Thank Arcus. I'll have to go get the supplies myself with Puce, but the two of us should be able to carry everything and get it done on time. Huh, weird coincidence that we're both going to Pewter for Harvest… Or not, it's not exactly the small town it used to be.

"Yo Boss," Kenny sent his way, voice raised. "I can totally drive you to the shop and get back before Nana leaves, probably. You want a ride?"

"Can you drive me to the Gym first? Gotta pick up Puce."

His naked brows raised. "Puke's at the Gym? That's weird."

Yeah, that's what I thought. "So?"

"Yeah, I guess. Let's go get the bike outta the secret base."







Riding the hoverbike down a busy street was a different experience from an empty stretch of beach – or even a non-busy street, for that matter. Hoshi was almost glad that Kenny's bulk obscured most of the view; if he'd been able to see the pedestrians they were forced to weave around coming, he was sure he'd have some kind of attack.

But against all odds, they reached the Vermilion City Gym without incident – and, even better, they found Puce almost immediately.

"Hey, that's her there fighting that guy 'n his pidgey. Wow, it's really going at it."

Hoshi looked over and winced. "Wow." Right for the eyes. That's gotta be doing some damage…

But despite the thought, even as one second turned to the next and the bird continued to savagely peck, the slowpoke gave no indication that it felt a single thing – there wasn't any blood, either. Huh. "Let me just grab her. Be back in a sec'."

Hoshi dismounted, making his way through the entrance pavilion at a hurried pace. "Hey Puce!" he called, and the large woman turned his way.

"Hoshi!" she called back. "Are you here to battle?"

"No," he replied, voice returning to normal as the distance between them decreased. "I've got a job for us, actually. Can you wrap this up?"

"Oh, yes. Um…" He saw a touch of uncertainty pass over Puce's face, but it quickly hardened into determination. "Bear, Yawn!"

Hearing her order, the slowpoke's jaw opened as a massive – and massively sleepy – sigh erupted out of its throat. "Ohhh…"

Even without being the target of the attack, Hoshi couldn't resist yawning in sympathy, his eyelids drooping. The man she was battling did the same, and the pidgey broke off its attack as its wingbeats slowed.

"Pidgey! Don't fall asleep!" her opponent ordered as he physically held his eyes open – but it was no use. "Darn it!" he cried, brandishing both a Jet Ball and his teeth as the tiny bird plopped down, asleep before it hit the ground. "Return!"

The sleeping pidgey disappeared, and Puce smiled. "Good job, Bear! You come back too!" With another, less soporific sigh, the slowpoke returned to her own ball. Puce went forward, shook hands with her opponent – without money changing hands, Hoshi noted – and then came back. "So, we have a new mission?"

"I'll tell you on the way." Wait, will all three of us fit on the bike? It was pretty tight with Kenny, me, and Casca, and Puce is like three Casca's so… Whatever, it'll be fine. It's basically impossible to fall off with the weird gravity shit anyway. "Kenny's waiting with his bike."

"Yes, I see him waving. Oh, I'm so excited! The last one went super well!"







Another trip east and west across town went smoothly, and Hoshi was beginning to feel pretty good about the day – despite being crushed between two walls of muscle, he had a subdued grin on his face.

Kenny pulled over at the gate, and as he dismounted with Puce Hoshi noted the time; 10:40.

More than enough left to find Casca and go see these three other Rockets, Arcus willing. Despite the setbacks, it seemed they would pull everything off. "Thanks Kenny. You'll be back by two?"

"Should be. I'll have to skip out in the middle, but that's how it is – 'm really only there for Nana, anyhow."

Puce said her own goodbye as Hoshi arranged the multiple bags of supplies they'd bought, and as Kenny rocketed away the two of them gathered the Moonside-branded canvas up and went through the gates.

Still three hours to go. If I was Casca trying to get a hungover teenager on her feet, then I'd be…

He headed for the cafeteria, Puce in tow. "So," she chirped as they walked, seemingly much less weighed down by the bags despite his more physically demanding career. "Where are we going? I asked on the way over, but I think the engine drowned me out."

"Route 14, or maybe 15." I'm going to assume that the instructors didn't direct me there for no reason. Though maybe I can get away with moving the trip to Mount Moon, and just stick around in Pewter after..?

…No, let's not change up the plan last-minute.


"That's near Fuchsia, right? Oh, maybe we can pop over to visit the Gym? Or maybe Nerine's family, she talks about her uncle a lot when we train together."

"Maybe," Hoshi conceded. "Let's actually get everybody together before making extra plans, okay?"

The large doors to the ground floor cafeteria opened, and the steak of good luck continued as he immediately spotted a head of bright orange hair among the partially-filled tables. "There she is. C'mon, Puce." Approaching perhaps more quickly than was wise while loaded down with so many supplies, Hoshi took in more details of the scene: Nerine was sitting across from Casca, sipping from some giant plastic cup – likely coffee, though he didn't recognise the logo on the side – while another woman was beside her.

"Hey Casca," he called. "Kenny says he'll be here by two, so it's just Ryan and the three randos we're missing. Any news on that front?"

She gave him an OK sign as she answered. "He's on his way. Seemed excited for the job – oh, sorry, this is Mimi. Mimi, Hoshi."

The woman sitting next to her gave him a wide grin, but Hoshi struggled to return the expression as he took in her appearance. "So you're the mysterious boyfriend!"

She was older than him, late twenties or early thirties – or maybe the unhealthiness of her person was throwing him off. She had the unmistakable paper-thin look of a junkie, the whites of her eyes turned yellow and the skin of her face so pale it looked like she'd been completely drained of blood. Her hair was a cheery yellow and she didn't look starved, at least, but that could only do so much to obscure the obviously permanent damage. Her teeth are terrible. Arcus, she must've been on the streets for a long time…

"Not too mysterious, I hope," he replied, shaking her hand with the most confident smile he could muster. "I don't suppose the other two came in today, make things easy for us?"

Casca shook her head. "Nope. I checked around, and both of them are between jobs – which we already knew, I guess, but I thought it was worth asking."

"Well, good to know anyway. Now…" Hoshi turned to Nerine, who was looking slightly less catatonic. "You alright?"

The girl groaned, sipping at her drink – which was actually hot chocolate, if his nose wasn't playing a trick on him. "I'll live. Why Sunday, though?"

Hoshi shrugged. "No idea. Puce, you fine staying here while me and Casca go root around for these last two guys?"

"I can do that," the woman replied. She gently set her load of tents and other camping gear on the table, and Hoshi did the same as she sat down beside Nerine. "Hello Miss Rose. Are you still not sleeping well? You should really take real sleeping pills, not just powder…"

Casca stood – and Mimi stood as well. "Ooh, don't forget me! Orange here won't say shit about the juicy details, so I've gotta pester ya." She had a strange accent, not strong but definitely present.

"You from Cinnabar?" Hoshi asked as the trio made their way to the exit, leaving Puce and Nerine to their conversation. Mimi blinked, surprised for a moment before the grin returned.

"Woah. Orange said you could do that, but I wasn't sure if she was exaggerating. She just oozes Cerulean, you know?"

"Absolutely. So I guessed right, then?"

"Yup! Came up to Celadon to try for the College. Got pretty into it too for a while, but then some bets went sour and the bills came in and…" She gestured with her head. "Now I'm here."
 
5.02 - Blasting Off Again
The Rocket named Kaz Kazubara lived, if Hoshi was interpreting the address correctly, right near the centre of town. Clifford Moon, on the other hand, was on the northernmost, easternmost tip of the city.

It was annoying; they were roughly equidistant from the Electric Academy, which meant they'd have to backtrack for the second one.

Could always split up, but… Nope, fuck that. There was time enough to do it the slow, sensible way. Only question left is, what order do we go in? The plan he and Casca had made last night said Kaz first, but Hoshi was second-guessing himself. Would the Enforcer take it as an insult he was left for last? I would…

The opulent halls of the academy flashed past as he debated it, green and gold an absent blur on the edge of his vision. "Hey Casca," he eventually said as they approached the entrance, "I'm thinking we go up for Enforcer Moon first. Might be good to not leave the higher ranking guy for last."

"Ol' Cliff?" Mimi broke in before his girlfriend could answer. "Ooh, that guy's hot! Maybe we could mysteriously lose a tent on the way?"

She giggled, the sound younger than her face, and Casca rolled her eyes. "Mimi, c'mon. At least try to put on a professional veneer for my man here – you're making us aspiring Agents look bad." She sent him an amused smile. "But yeah, that works. His address is an apartment, right?"

Hoshi didn't need to look at the slip to reply. "It is. Kazubara's is just a street address, so I'm assuming house." There aren't very many apartments in the Central District, so that isn't a surprise. It also implies that he's a local, which could be either good or bad.

"Bart, too? Man, this camping trip is getting stacked. Are you sure we're not secretly hitting something?"

He looked the blonde's way, both annoyed and curious. "You know him?"

"Yeah, was one of the guys who did my… resume jobs, is what I think of 'em as. Pretty dude, most ridiculous hair you've ever seen. Strong Pokémon too – I think he got a couple experiments from the lab boys." Experiments? More hyper-genius Pokémon? "Also, pretty good with his tongue. You wouldn't think it from how he looks but-"

"Okay, did not need to know that part," Hoshi interrupted. "Arcus."







Vermillion wasn't really a car city, the way Cerulean, Saffron, and Celadon were. Its streets were too narrow, only the two main roads – North-South from Route 6 to the docks and East-West from the Gym to Route 11 – having proper lanes. A consequence of the swampy terrain, historical precedent, and a deliberate effort to distance its architecture from that of Kanto's Dueling Capitals.

No, the Sunset City was built for pedestrians – and for bikes. "Woah, look'it those guys. Arms bigger'n my thighs! Orange, we should come 'round here some time, pump our recruitment numbers up."

Hoshi glanced at where Mimi was looking. Huh, don't recognise the symbol on their jackets. Almost every gang had a patch they'd wear on their back, an evolution – or devolution, some would say – of the expressive clan markings samurai had tattooed directly on their skin in the old days. It was a point of pride, of status; if a gang couldn't afford to get patches done, then it was too shit to be worth anything.

Even kids had them sometimes.

"Red gyarados," Hoshi noted, choosing to ignore the woman's comment about casually seducing gang members. "Not very unique, but I haven't seen that particular one before. Hyper-local, you think?"

Casca hummed. "Saffron is heating up; could be guys pushed out from their old territory?"

"Could be. They do look a bit roughed up." Though that might just be a local skirmish – with the Night Folk cleaned out, I'm betting there are a bunch of new players trying to throw their weight around. Vermilion was also not a gang town like Saffron – the southern parts, at least. Unless you count the sailors as a gang. They stick together like one, at least…

The trio passed a few other groups that smelled of violence as they went, but the balls displayed openly on Hoshi's belt – or maybe the hungry, brittle-toothed smile Mimi sent towards anything with a dick – kept them from being hassled.

"This should be the place," Hoshi said as he fished the paper out to double-check the address. "Apartment number two-one-two. Second floor, then."


A flight of stairs, one hallway, and they were there. Hoshi's watch read 11:15; plenty of time, and so he did his best to expel his anxiety. He's higher rank, so be deferential – but also, don't act like you can be pushed around. Chin up, spine straight. The door was solid as he knocked, the sound heavy and carrying.

Huh. I guess this part of town isn't as bad as I'd assumed from all the bikers; the construction isn't cheap at all. Good paint, good floors, no trash in the halls.

The sound of a bolt unlocking cracked softly through the wood, and a second later Hoshi got his first impression of Clifford Moon.

He was tall and broad, his skin dark in a way that had to come from blood as well as time in the sun. I'd assumed from the name, but that cinches it; this guy's from up north. Pureblooded Mount Moon. He was handsome, too, with a square, heroic jaw partially covered by a Pokéball-pattern goatee. The rest of his face was equally strong; narrow eyes, a flat nose, and crisp black hair in a one-step-from-military buzz cut tied his look together as rock hard. He's not bulky in the way Puce and Kenny are, but he's still fucking jacked, even under the baggy sweats he's wearing.

Reminds me of Bob, actually. Though his face is a lot less sharp…


"Hello, sir. I'm Hoshi Mutsu; I've just come from the Electric Academy."

The man's eyes narrowed further, his swooping brows lowering. "Cliff. The faculty need anything?"

Hoshi nodded, bearing his teeth with a contrition that was only partially put-on. Nobody likes having to come in on a Sunday. "Afraid so. Things are happening that necessitate the instructors' full attention – they need us to get the new students settled in. A survival camp down in fourteen or fifteen, they suggested."

"New students… That's today." Clifford Moon looked down at what were obviously his staying-home-all-day clothes, his lips twisting. Hoshi braced himself for the coming telling-off – but the man only expelled a breath through his nostrils, stepping to the side to gesture them in. "Let's take this inside for a minute."


The inside of Cliff's apartment was decorated differently than Hoshi had been expecting; the television was small, obviously an afterthought, while the pictures hung on the walls were large and well-cared-for. The only place to sit was a new-feeling couch, which the three guests were monopolising while their host changed.

Unlike Kenny's room there was no home gym, but there was something Hoshi took a second to place: a dusty area that, after thinking about it, he labeled as artificial mountain.

He must have a geodude or graveler that hates the climate around here.
It was actually something that the Senior Grunt had been thinking about in the back of his head; if he caught anything that wasn't local, what would he do to keep it happy? His girls were fine with Vermillion's routes and parks, and brief stays in his apartment, but most ground types – and he did still want a ground type – hated moisture with a vengeance.

Diglett is an exception, rather than the rule. I've been considering a geodude, but they'd be cranky twenty-four-seven from the sea air.

"Okay," Cliff's voice sounded out, drawing Hoshi from his thoughts. "Let's do this properly." As he exited what was probably his bedroom the enforcer revealed himself to be dressed in proper day clothes, a tight black t-shirt and worn jeans.

"Beef with a side of cake, holy shit," Mimi muttered from the side, giving Hoshi's ribs a light elbowing which he resolutely ignored.

If the Rocket Enforcer heard the comment, it didn't show on his face. "I'm Cliff Moon, but you can just call me Cliff… assuming you are who you say you are." He crossed his arms. "I'll need a little bit of proof you're from the academy – I haven't seen your face before, and we've been having trouble with people skulking around. So?"

Hoshi was momentarily blindsided, but then a voice in his ear provided the answer. "Show him a Rocket Ball," Casca said, and he nodded. Right, that's as good a sign of membership as any.

He drew Guts's ball, expanded it, and popped open the case to reveal the purple, evil-eyed thing hiding inside. "That enough proof, sir?"

Cliff was silent for a moment, then he nodded as well. "Enough to get me out of the house at least." His voice was deep and authoritative, but slightly softer than Hoshi would have assumed – he'd been having a lot of his assumptions about what Rocket Enforcer meant challenged, in the last minute. "Alright, so – the instructors need me to go out with some kiddies for a while?"

"A week. They were light on details, but I'm assuming it has something to do with those security issues you just mentioned."

He nodded again, just a quick up-and-down motion of the chin. "Makes sense. They put you in charge?"

"Yes," Hoshi replied, with more confidence than he felt. There was a certain aura exuding from the man; solid, immovable, like a sheer rock wall. His parents named him right – man feels like a damn cliff, somehow. "I've already bought the supplies we'll need for a week or so, and gotten most of the team together; it's just you, another guy named Kazubara, and then picking the rookies up from the academy."

Cliff unfolded his arms. "Well, that's straightforward enough. I'll be meeting you there." Though it was framed as a question, there was no doubt in Hoshi's mind that the sentence had ended with a period.

"That's good to hear. We'll show ourselves out, then."

Hoshi stood, the women following a second later, but as they made for the door the enforcer stopped them. "Wait," he ordered, and Hoshi paused. Please don't be yet another ass, I've got more than enough of those in my life. "One last thing. It's weird that Oakley and Kidd wouldn't let me know what's going on; they've get a softer touch then the boss over in Viridian. What's your rank, Hoshi Mutsu?"

His teeth ground against each other for a fraction of a second before he turned around. "Senior Grunt, sir."

"Senior Grunt," Cliff repeated. His eyes looked down, calculating, and then he smiled. "Oh. Yeah, I think I know what's going on. You go do your part, I'll see you at the academy."

Great – that makes one of us. Hoshi nodded in deference, then turned away to properly leave.







"That went well," Casca said as they returned to the streets. "He didn't do any big speeches; I was afraid we'd be stuck there a half-hour."

Speeches? "Is that something he does?"

"Yeah, it's why I remembered the name – he went on this big spiel about Rocket saving our lives before the job, and then there was another one after. Hardest day's work in my entire life, just from the boredom alone."

Damn, I was hoping he'd be normal. He seemed normal enough – more than most Rockets, anyway.

"Ha!" Mimi laughed. "He isn't that bad. He's pretty short-winded while on the field – and at least there's something to look at while he monologues." She wolf-whistled, and Casca snorted.

"Girl, what's with you today? You're, like, twice as horny as usual."

"I can't heeelp it," the woman whined. "All my girlfriends are settling dowwwn. June's engaged, and I can smell the ring growing on your finger, Orange. Cudgel wants to settle down with this office lady…"

"Wait, Cudgel's gay? I mean she's definitely butch, but like… It feels too stereotypical, you know?"

"She's gay as fuck, Casca, and her girl is so boring. I don't wanna be the only one who has fun anymore, it sucks!"

Hoshi let the banter between his girlfriend and her girl friend wash over him, feeling… kind of weird about it, actually. Casca knows a lot about me, but I don't really know anything about her. Should I… ask?

The thought was foreign; for a long time – most of his life, it felt like – people asking about his personal business meant somebody was leaving with a bloody nose. Casca was, so far, the one exception to that, someone he could talk to about his parents and politics and shit without being afraid of judgment. Well, there's Danny too, but that's… less serious.

But going the other way with it still felt wrong.

…Bah, I'll have plenty of time to think about this shit while out in the woods.







If Cliff's apartment could be said to be a good building on the bad side of town, then their last remaining Rocket to recruit lived in the exact opposite.

Hoshi squinted his eyes at the slip of paper James had given him, then moved them up to re-read the copper numerals affixed above the door. But to his mixed relief and dismay they continued to match perfectly.

…Well, whatever. Who cares if it looks like a run-down ghost house, it's where we need to be.

"Yeah, this is the place."

"Bleh, looks like a drug den."

Hoshi stepped forward, going from the well-maintained tiled street to wooden, paint-flecked steps. He knocked on the door, and the flimsy screen produced a dry rattle which was both underwhelming for how much force he'd put in, and vaguely sad-sounding. Arcus, is this guy destitute? I thought Mimi said he was strong; stronger Pokémon should mean better jobs, which means better pay… Right?

Or did the instructors pad out my first job to make Rocket seem better? No, Casca's been a grunt for twice as long as me, and she's never complained about-


His catastrophising was thankfully halted by the house's owner answering their door – and Hoshi immediately understood why Casca had called the man 'Big-Haired.'

"Arcus, that's a lot of hair," he said, only realising he'd voiced the thought aloud a moment later. "Uh, sorry. I'm Hoshi Mutsu, can we come in for a second?" What the fuck, that thing goes out like a foot and a half. It must be like wearing a milk jug strapped to his forehead…

"Hm? Oh, is this a work thing?" he answered with a question. "Jay and Jay said there wouldn't be much for a while."

"Yeah, they dropped an emergency job on me – sorry, can we do this inside? I know there's nobody around, but it feels weird to talk about it out in the open."

The man gave a lazy half-roll of his eyes. "Sure. House Kazubara, open to the public."


Unlike Cliff, 'Bart,' as he introduced himself, was dressed for a night on the town. Wow… The hair is obviously the main attraction, but this guy's kind of the whole package. Black motorcycle leathers and a bandaged midsection hid an otherwise bare torso, while the gangster's face was, as Mimi had said, damn pretty. The man actually looked a lot like James – not in any particular facial feature, his eyes were black and his chin and cheekbones much softer, but in the fact that he could have been a K-Pop star.

Yeah, this guy isn't hurting for money – he must just not give a shit about how his house looks.

"So, what was that? Something about Rocket business, I'm assuming." The man spoke with a hyper-cultured accent, so anti-punk it wrapped around in a paradox of irony. Arc, yet another weirdo. Hopefully this one just looks strange.

"Yeah. Like I said, I'm Hoshi Mutsu, and this is Casca and Mimi. The instructors want us to do the orientation for the new grunts; we're taking them out for a wilderness survival thing. We leave at two, can you make it?"

Hoshi winced internally. He probably should have finessed that a little more, but he'd been running across the city since he'd woken up, and his well of patience was being emptied a lot faster than it could refill.

"Two o'clock?"

"Yes. Short notice, I know, but…" He shrugged, palms raised and fingers spread.

The man's black-painted lips drew down into a frown. "I'll… need to think about it. How long will this 'survival thing' take?"

"One week."

He hummed. "I suppose I could participate. By the by; are you an out-of-towner? I've never seen you before, but I doubt you're a new recruit yourself."

Hoshi nearly gnashed his teeth – and Casca's own well must be looking pretty dry too, because she did nothing to stop him as he grimaced, his voice lowering. "I'm Bob Surge's fucking nephew. I'll ask one more time: will you be there at two? If the answer isn't yes, sir then you can fuck right off."

Bart's thin, plucked eyebrows rose, but after a moment of incredulity his expression turned to something more in-line with his greaser aesthetic: cocky determination. "Will we be battling with our Pokémon as part of this trip, my fellow Rocket?"

"Obviously. I'll take that as a yes." Before any retort could present itself Hoshi turned, tugging the ancient screen door open with a final sentence before he left. "Don't worry about supplies, Rocket's paying for everything."







"Ah, man," Mimi groused as they headed back northeast. "I was hoping to get laid."

Casca scoffed. "You didn't even make a pass at either of them."

"I thought you'd let me do some of the talking! I'm, like, your senior and shit."

Again, Hoshi let the banter wash over him – but now there was no uncomfortable feeling lurking in his skull. After a minute's thought he spoke up, "Casca."

"Hm? Oh hey, you look fired up! Got an idea?"

"Something is obviously going on here, something more than what the Senior Executives said. I don't know what it is, but it doesn't really matter, does it? Stronger Rockets will be there, forced to be around us, so we should use this as a training opportunity."

She laughed, the sound subdued. "Always training with you, Hoshi. But I'm in; not like there'll be much to do out there in the sticks anyway."

"I could think of a few things," Mimi suggested with wagging brows, and this time Hoshi snorted along with his girlfriend.


The feeling of fire in his blood only intensified as, a few minutes later, a man with a gigantic pompadour sped past on a motorcycle.







Okay… Time to have a little drama of my own.

Negotiating compensation with Nak had been exactly as painful as he'd imagined, but only that amount; he'd be getting all his money back when he returned, along with whatever amount a week-long training mission paid out.

Ryan and Kenny had shown up on time, so the last potential disaster was averted. They were down in the cafeteria with the others, no doubt making the Sunday afternoon a hard one for the staff.

It was just him now, returned to Nak's room an hour later. Casca had obviously wanted to come with him, but in this moment he wanted to see if he could do it alone – he felt halfway like a leader, so it was time to see if that was something real, or just a delusion of bravado. Deep breath. You had an hour to cool off, you feel good, you feel cool. You're in charge; don't even think about it, just… do.

Through the door came the bland, suicidally nihilistic drawl of Nak the Rocket Grunt. "So that's the Pokémon sorted. Better crop than you lot deserve, I'll say that much. Now usually there'd be Poké-orientation, but the bosses have all got some major shit going down, so you little fucks'll just have to-"

And there's the cue. Hoshi pushed open the door, four heads bearing that iconic black cap turning his way. "Actually, there is something planned. Congratulations you three; you've got an all-expenses-paid training trip to look forward to. Line up and follow me – don't fall behind, this place is a fucking maze."

He turned, beckoning the two men and one woman to follow as he left the door open behind himself. He heard the soft sound of those rubbery grunt boots on rich carpet, and it was a struggle not to look back. Trust it. Trust the aura of authority that comes with just saying shit and expecting it to happen.

It was a solid thirty seconds before an uncertain voice sounded out from behind. "Uh, hey. I'm Tor. This training trip – is this happening, like, now? 'Cause I've gotta be in Saffron in a week for Festival, and-"

"Trust me," Hoshi interrupted. "You'll love this. It'll be way better than my initiation was, at least."

There we go, ominous undertones achieved. Fucking nailing it.







Tor Yuriyama walked through the stupidly expensive-looking halls in something of a daze. At his side walked his best friend and his girlfriend, both of them with similar looks on their faces.

Despite having been flirting with Rocket for almost a month now, it didn't seem quite real yet. The uniform was stiff and scratchy, the hat felt weird on his head, and…

I didn't think this whole Free the League thing would go this far. I thought like, we'd do some marching, hold up some signs, and then… that would be that? Even in his own head it sounded juvenile, so he discarded the thought. Arcus, mom's going to kill me if she learns I've joined a gang…

The tall, angry looking man with the deep voice led them downstairs, then towards something he vaguely recognised as the cafeteria even before they entered. Inside were more Rockets, each looking much more comfortable in their uniforms than him and his friends.

The man turned, and introduced himself. "Hoshi Mutsu, Senior Rocket Grunt." His smile was downright malicious, each dark purple eye seeming to burrow into Tor's soul. There were five grunts behind him.

To his left sat a fair-haired man with a dragon at his heel, while on the right there was a large-boned woman bedecked in an ostentatious amount of sapphire jewelry, a staryu perched on the table behind her. Then beside them were two extremely muscular people, a wide-faced man whose cheeks were scarred with acne with a sandshrew, and the largest woman he'd ever seen, each of her arms wider than his head, a koffing bobbing slowly around her cap. Finally, a girl with vibrant blue hair sat behind them all, playing a handheld video game with an ekans curled around her neck.

There were other Rockets in the room, but Tor's eyes were locked on the lead figure – Hoshi Mutsu. There was something about him, about his hard eyes and sharp smile, that made his hindbrain say danger; don't move. His knuckles were scarred, more than anyone Tor had ever seen before.

"This is my crew. I'm sure we'll all get acquainted over the next week, but right now… Let's see what we're working with. Show me your Pokémon."
 
5.03 - Across the Land
A meowth, a mankey, and a spearow stared back at Hoshi as he scrutinised them, the Pokémon standing with a level of discomfort seemingly equal to their trainers. Realistically they were probably just reacting to the stronger Pokémon around his grunts, but it was gratifying nonetheless.

Well, that's not bad. Arguably better than what we got, Jormungandr excepted. "Not bad. Any of you done any training before? Trips into the woods with grandpa and the family growlithe, Little Cups, anything like that?"

His eyes went back up to the three newborn Rockets, just in time to receive a trio of shakes. Damn, did we look that unsure during the tournament? I swear we didn't, and it was less than a quarter of a year ago…

"Well, this'll be your first time then. Listen up…" Hoshi began to pace, aping his uncle's drill sergeant shtick. "These are baby Pokémon; they'll be battlers pretty soon, but right now they'll need short, simple instructions. We're going to be going out into the proper wilderness, halfway to Fuchsia, so you'll need to know what these three can do."

From his pocket came his Mini-Dex. "Luckily, Team Rocket's got some of that covered. This little baby can tell you your 'mon's moves, plus its condition and some other stuff that isn't as important." He softly tossed the thing underhanded, lobbing it to the grunt who seemed least likely to fumble – the middle boy, a clean-shaven sporty-looking type with buoyant, spiked-forward brown hair sticking out from below his puffy cap.

"Return your Pokémon, stick it in the front lens, check the moves with the buttons, then pass it around." Kind of a pain that we don't have three extras to just give them, but that's life. Also a pain was the lack of fake licenses; they'd have to be extra careful not to bump into any rangers or whoever, who'd think to check their credentials on the road.

As the three did as they were told, Hoshi gestured with his chin to Casca and Ryan. They were the most personable of his grunts, so it would be them doing the actual training lesson. The two went forward as he sat, and Hoshi let out a breath as subtly as he could. Wow, that's actually kind of stressful…

Pretty fun, though. I can see why the instructors do it all the time.
With the rookies' focus drawn away, he took the opportunity to examine them without seeming creepy or too intimidating.

It was pretty easy to match names to faces, with that one kid – bah, why am I saying kid? They've gotta be closer to twenty than anything, all of them – having introduced himself. Tor Yuriyama was the one he'd tossed the Mini-Dex to, and he was pretty obviously the leader-figure of the group. He'd been the only one to speak up on the way down, and as the trio received instruction he was the one who took it the most seriously, asking questions without being a dumbass about it.

As for the other two… The woman, almost certainly Lilian Sukashi unless both her and the third grunt's parents had weird ideas about gendered names, was a tall, slim woman with dark red hair. She was a lot more hesitant than Tor, and Hoshi mentally labeled her as the Puce of the group. Then there was Mojo Concolor, who didn't have a clear analogue; he was also on the taller side, but stood with a slouch, and there was a certain scruffiness to his face that made him seem older than the other two. He probably isn't actually older; it's just the shape of his eyes and the stubble. He's got a cynical-drunk-uncle kinda face.

Reminds me of an old dog, somehow. Not a lot of bite, stays out of the way, but knows a trick or two.
Maybe he would end up being the Nerine, quiet but competent, though the very basic questions he was asking didn't inspire confidence.

Over a few minutes the grunts got their Pokémon to dodge in the correct directions, do a move or two, and block a very subdued Rapid Spin from Candy. "Alright," Hoshi said, standing up as the brief lesson concluded. "The rest will have to be on the road." The rest of the senior Rockets came in from the sides, their expressions ranging from amused to stony. Glad they didn't butt in. I was half-expecting Bart to undercut me, but maybe he isn't as much of an asshole as my first impression of him implied.

"On the road?" Mojo, the grunt who looked older and street-wiser, asked. "Right now? Man, it's October. I'm wearing a damn felt suit." He scratched the stubble covering his jaw, expression bored with a hint of sour – but his eyes were aware, calm and sharp and sparkling.

Hoshi smiled. "Good segue, thanks for that. Obviously, we aren't going out in our uniforms – or at least, not just the uniforms. Puce?"

The large woman reached back and hefted an equally-large canvas bag into view, lifting it one-handed. "We've got good hiking coats for everyone," she said. "Everybody line up…" He could feel her suppressing the urge to um or uh. "Tallest to shortest, I think would be the best way to do it. So, Enforcer Cliff first."

Hoshi sent her a ghost of a nod. Good work. Keep up the competent facade, at least until we're a few days in and they've gotten used to taking orders.

Cliff received his large coat without speaking, smoothly putting it on over his uniform – which looked like the evolved form of Hoshi's own Senior Grunt uniform, skintight black fabric with white lines and what he was sure were armoured sections at the shoulders, chest, groin, and shins. The most aberrant part was actually the footwear; where every uniform he'd seen up to that point had tall boots, while Cliff was wearing runners. High-quality runners, though. And thick enough that they might be armoured, too.

Hoshi went next, and then the other grunts in the appropriate order. The bulky, warm hiking gear fit over his clothes just fine, thick brown-and-orange leather and dark grey wool covering the black felt. The coat sported numerous pockets and loops where ropes – or whatever else – could be attached, and the weight was reassuring; the thing felt durable, like he could take a Poison Sting point-blank and be fine.

Not that I'll be trying that.

Having the uniform on at all out in public was going to make his teeth itch with paranoia, but Cliff had insisted.

Next came the rest of the supplies, handed out by Kenny. Everyone got a knife and compass, and were then split into pairs; one got their tent, the other food and other heavy shit. Hoshi and Casca were of course together, then Ryan with Kenny and Puce with Nerine.

Two of the rookies were in a relationship, so that made the rest of it conveniently easy; Mimi insisted on bunking with Bart – who rolled his eyes, but didn't protest – so that just left Cliff with Mojo.


The twelve Rockets got their packs packed up, their Pokémon returned, and were out the door before the clock struck three.

Everything's gone smoothly so far, Hoshi thought as they passed through the gate, looking like nothing more than a group of university students taking a trip for the holidays. Hopefully I'm not tempting fate, but… Whatever bullshit is about to happen, I think we'll be able to handle it.

There's a full dozen of us, after all.








They were, obviously, not wearing their Rocket caps out in the open. Those were safely tucked into the depths of their giant camping bags; instead, they had soft leather hats. Their various footwear had been similarly swapped out for hiking boots.

And even without all that, Hoshi was sure there wouldn't have been any problems making it through Route 11 to the guardhouse that separated it from the real wilderness.

No, the problems only started to happen afterwards, as that final structure faded into the distance.

"Eep!" Lilian squeaked as a goldeen flew past her face. "Mankey, Leer!"

The pig-nosed ape screeched and pounded its chest, and the numerous orange-and-white fish leaping over the bridge… slowed, maybe, cowed just the slightest bit. The red-headed woman's lips curled down. "Darn it."

"Just walk through!" Hoshi called back. "They won't hit you on purpose!" Unless the weird weather is inducing a second breeding cycle… but nah, me and Ryan made it through fine. "Nerine, show her!"

The teenage grunt walking near the back of the group looked up, and once again her condition made him wince. She didn't look dead on her feet like that morning, but she definitely wasn't anywhere near peak performance. She scowled, but a second later began shouldering through the tight confines of Seaking's Crossing.

Hoshi grit his teeth as she calmly walked across the narrow stretch of land, Tomato the ekans wrapped around her neck like a massive scarf; despite just reassuring the other girl, a tiny part of him couldn't help but anticipate one of the riled-up goldeen aiming its finger-length horn towards her pallid face.

But it didn't happen. The fish avoided the slow-moving obstacle as they hopped over the thin spit of land separating the two stretches of brackish, half-sea water, and Nerine arrived safely on the large not-quite-an-island marking the middle of Route 12. "This is a lot worse than it should be this time of year," she remarked as she turned back to watch Lilian take tentative steps, the young woman's tongue clenched firmly in her teeth.

"Yes," Ryan replied, "I imagine the heat convinced them it was still summer for far too long, and now they're frantic to make it north for the winter."

"You know the migrant paths of goldeen?" Hoshi asked, watching the other two rookie grunts cross as Casca and Puce goaded them forward. Tor was, surprisingly, the most nervous of the three; Mojo had to basically push him forward step-by-step. The athletic boy's spearow circled tightly overhead, obviously considering trying to pluck one of the leaping Pokémon from the air.

They're just goldeen man, come on. What, you scared of fish?

"I've been reading up on the local Pokémon," Ryan answered. "At first I'd assumed that I would be transferred back to Mister Archer's jurisdiction shortly, since the instructors seem to… not care for me." He smiled without mirth. "But since that hasn't happened, I should probably stop gallivanting back and forth between here and my home. It may not be the proper season, but it looks like I'll have to acquire a beach house."

Hoshi snorted. "Well, that'll make dragging you to team shit easier at least."

"Quite."

The trio reunited on their side of the Crossing, and then the rest of Hoshi's grunts took the precarious journey as well. Casca walked without a hint of fear – she must have been plenty familiar with goldeen, since Cerulean was where they liked to nest for the winter – and Puce did shockingly well, crossing with Potato the koffing held securely in her arms.

But then the good luck finally ran out. Kenny grit his teeth, wavering for long seconds as he eyed the twenty-metre walkway teeming with jumping fish. Then his expression settled. He stepped forward – and Hoshi's heart sank as he realised the ex-wrestler was trying to sprint for it. "Slow it down, man!" he called, but it was too late.

A goldeen, unable to account for the suddenness of a roided-up human striding into its path, impacted Kenny's shoulder. He started to go down, and was only saved by his sandshrew clinging to his ankle – if Bubbles hadn't been able to get his claws into his trainer's pant leg, Kenny would have gone over the fance and right into the drink.

Cliff started forward, shouldering Bart aside, but the downed grunt called out. "No worries! 'S not even bleeding – jus' need to get back on my feet. Thanks, Bubbles."

He walked the rest of the way properly, his sandshrew sending Poison Stings out towards any fish that got close – which all missed horribly, but Hoshi supposed it was the thought that counted.

But once he and Bubbles were on the other side, Hoshi could see Kenny had been lying.

"Need a bandage?" Not a lot of blood, but it definitely got through the gear.

I was hoping we'd at least get to the campsite before taking an injury, but I guess that was naive. There's a reason people still die out here, every now and then…


"Need..?" Kenny looked down, seeming to notice the hole in his thick leather coat for the first time. "Oh. Naw, 's just a scratch. Don't feel shit."

"Good thing it only hit you with Peck," Casca noted, and Kenny's eyes turned back to the land bridge.

"Yeah. Horn Attack'd probably fuck a guy up pretty bad… Oh hey, Pompadour's changin' his Pokémon."

Hoshi followed his subordinate's stare, and found it was true. The man's electabuzz went back in its ball, and a different 'mon was released – something Hoshi didn't recognise.

What materialised looked like nothing more than a golden-brown half-oval with two beady black eyes, but then it lifted itself to reveal four much brighter legs – simple things, just articulated claws coming to a point – and a black underbelly sporting two large, round, red eyes. Are the ones on top decoys? Or maybe it just has four. Some sort of bug type – or maybe water? It looks kind of like a crab, and kind of like a beetle…

"Kabuto!" Ryan exclaimed, and Hoshi again grit his teeth. Damn it, I've got to start hitting the books more. It's embarrassing when my underling knows more about a Pokémon than I do…

He swallowed the emotion for the moment, instead opening his mouth to simply ask about it. "Kabuto?" Actually, I think I've heard the name… "Aren't those extinct?"

"Not entirely; I believe Pewter has a very small population. But I doubt that is where he acquired it, they don't- ooh!"

The tiny beetle-crab – trilobite? No, those had segments like a cockroach, he was pretty sure – skittered into the water, and the moment it was submerged it rocketed forward, blasting goldeen out of the way as it went. The school began jumping harder, riled up, but when the kabuto repeated the manoeuvre they were pushed around again. Then a third time, and the angry fish backed off. Bart slipped past Cliff to cross the Crossing with his hands in his pockets, chin angled up and black-painted lips in an admittedly flattering pout.

Okay, I've got to concede; that's a little cool. Still don't like you, though.

The man once again swapped his Pokémon – the water bug was probably glacial on land – and nine of the ten Rockets looked on as Mimi went next with her vulpix.

Ryan, of course, was pestering Bart about his Pokémon. Hoshi elbowed him and mouthed 'At camp,' causing the blond to shut his mouth with a scowl.

Mimi crossed without incident, and then Cliff did the same. Much like Bart, the goldeen didn't jump at him at all – probably because of the fully-evolved poliwrath strutting in his shadow. The Pokémon, like its master, was tall and broad; nearly five feet tall, a full foot above average.

Cliff gave him a wordless nod as he joined the group, and once again Hoshi was thankful that the dark-skinned man was letting him give the orders. He seems pretty chill – and hasn't tried to give any long speeches, either. Think I'll get along with this guy.

They took a moment to reorient. Nerine forced Kenny to take his upper clothes off so she could bandage his shoulder, and everyone took drinks from their canteens and bites of various food bars.


Then the group turned, collectively eyeing the skeletal scaffolding that made up basically the entirety of Route 12.

"Yknow," Kenny said, squinting in consideration, "I'm maybe not feeling this whole rickety docks goin' out into the ocean thing. Maybe we just go back a bit, cut through the trees?"

Hoshi shook his head, joined by several of the others. "Nope. Did you even look at the forest while we were coming here? It's basically solid wood."

"The woods east of Vermilion are impassible," Cliff reiterated. "Too dense, too many Pokémon. If we didn't have the recruits then maybe we could cut through in about the same time, but this whole thing is for them." He stepped forward, his Pokémon – a roughly human-sized tadpole that Hoshi, for whatever reason, felt was unsuited to the man – walking slightly in front.

Hoshi started after, but then paused and gestured Bart and Mimi through. Try and keep the weaker members in the middle; that might be one of the simpler lessons the instructors taught, but that just means it should be easier to remember. He'd let things slip a little while on the safest section of trail, but from now on he'd be paying more attention.

The newbies went next, and he nodded reassuringly. "Don't worry, it's sturdier than it looks."







Route 12 was, at one point, a major staging area for Kanto's navy – and civilian shipping too, during the war. Lavender looked like it was on the water when you saw it on a map, but it was actually land-locked; that whole section of the coast was a sheer cliff, a lop-sided mountain whose highest point dropped directly into the ocean.

Which meant that there weren't any actual settlements between Cerulean, Vermilion, and Fuchsia – which was a serious problem when one was trying to move supplies through contested waters. Those large, uninhabited stretches of coast became easy pickings for not only Johto's navy, but also Kanto's dwindling-but-not-dead-yet pirate population.

And so… Route 12, a massive docking area that could serve as a lay-over between cities, and a bubble of safety from roving predators.

Hoshi was sure it was majestic during its time, before a massive push from Johto had demolished the thing, and the end of the war had put any reason to rebuild in a shallow grave. Now it was only a precarious path for trainers looking to train while going down to Fuchsia, full of wild Pokémon and gruff, antisocial fishermen.

Not that those are necessarily bad things, mind. "Crow, Astonish-Supersonic."

His zubat swooped down, letting out a distinctly startling chirp at the wild horsea, the juvenile sea dragon choking on a mouthful – snoutful? – of wild blue fire. I am beyond fucking pissed – I run into a horsea that knows Dragon Breath, and I completely forgot to buy a single damn ball. Motherfucker.

It would be more accurate to say that he'd deliberately decided against buying balls – to avoid the temptation of overextending himself with a fourth untrained team member – but at the moment accuracy could go for a long swim in the fucking ocean.

His lips formed a snarling grin as Crow's chirp led into a long, high-pitched roar that forced the horsea underwater to escape, its movements uncoordinated. "Good girl. Guts, use Swift."

Actually, he wasn't all that mad. The lost opportunity was made up for by the current situation: his three young Pokémon working together to beat something that would, if it survived long enough, turn into a legitimate dragon one day. Guts sent a tiny constellation of stars out, five or six – they were too fast to count properly – points of dazzling light emerging from her mouth to plow right into the water, barely slowing as they went from air to crystal-clear liquid.

The Focus Energy she'd used at the start of the battle sharpened the attack, turning each shooting star into a tiny horsea-seeking missile. The sea dragon released a cloud of ink, but it was no use; Hoshi felt the half-dozen impacts under the water, and the next second it was surfacing, snout full of an eerie blue flame-

Only to meet a Leer from Venus and another combo-attack from Crow. The mankey's rancorous gaze was enough to rattle even the vastly stronger Pokémon, and after another battering from Swift the tiny, deceptively strong monster decided it was better off seeking easier prey. It dived away, taking refuge in the steel hull of a mostly-submerged wreck, and…

And Hoshi's savage grin lost its edge as elation leeched strength from the other emotions swirling in his gut, the fury magically transmuting into joy like copper turned to gold. "Yeah!" he roared, pumping his fist. Venus joined in, snorting and hooting, while Guts stared at the water despondently. Hah, she wants to finish it off. Sorry girl, it's too smart for that. "Amazing job, girls! That thing had to be close to evolving – so I figure you must be pretty close, too!" Like a lot of dragons – or pseudo-dragons, in this case – horsea evolved quite late into its life; rattata, on the other hand, evolved early – and zubat wasn't far behind.

I could have a raticate and golbat before the week ends.

The thought was sweet, and it was with a touch of reluctance that he returned Crow and Venus; Hoshi wanted to train them all, all at the same time, but the rational part of his brain knew that it was important to cycle his Pokémon in and out to rest.

They still had the rest of the day's hike to go, after all.







The tail end of Route 12 disappeared behind them as the sun inexorably dropped closer to the horizon. Hoshi fought off a few more of the oceanic Pokémon that had reclaimed the smashed port, while the rookies battled a few fishermen for pocket change.

They won as many as they lost, which said a lot more about how seriously the fishermen were taking things than the new Rocket's skills. They got magikarp and goldeen; Ryan and his bagon got octillery and thick-shelled adult shellder – and, on one occasion, a twenty-foot-long gyarados.

Hoshi patted the man's shoulder as they transitioned from wooden dock to dirt path. "Don't worry, I'm sure you'll get there one day."

Ryan bristled at the facetious tone. "Oh, come off it. I didn't see you challenging their strongest Pokémon – at least I made the attempt."

The back-and-forth continued for a minute, but as they continued further into Route 13 Hoshi became serious again. "Okay," he called out to the group. "Let's stop for a minute. A few important things to discuss before we go further."

Here, unlike the long, twisting passages of Route 12, they could spread their legs and not be forced into a line. The Rockets and their Pokémon gathered into a circular huddle, the various cliques staying mostly together.

Gotta do this before we go into the maze proper…

"What's the holdup?" Kenny asked. "We're burnin' daylight, Boss."

Ah, another perfect segue. Thanks for that. "Who here knows anything about Route 13?"

Hoshi got a mix of responses; bewildered looks from Kenny and Mimi, a blank stare from Puce and Casca, Bart joined Mojo in looking mostly just bored – but Nerine and Lilian both opened their mouths.

"This is where the ninja from Fuchsia do their training, right?" Lilian spoke first.

"It is," Nerine confirmed. "But it isn't the season for that. They'll be up in Viridian, making sure the Nationals don't get sabotaged." The girl tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and half-turned away, but was drawn back into the conversation by another rookie.

"How do you know that?" Tor asked. "I've never heard anything about the tournament grounds being guarded by ninja."

"You're not supposed to see ninja," she muttered, just loud enough for Hoshi to mostly understand, before actually answering. "I was recruited in Fuchsia. Had an uncle who used to work in the Pokémon Gym before he retired, and he was pretty… gung-ho about me getting into the family business."

"Of being a ninja?"

"Of being a… Fuchsia Gym Trainer. So… yeah, kind of a ninja. Not, like, ninjutsu." Her head lowered in embarrassment. "So I know some stuff that most people don't. Nothing special or anything…"

Hoshi raised his voice, taking back the spotlight. "Like you said, Tor, it's the Doksu Clan training grounds. Which means that it's practically a maze." He reached up to pet Crow, who was clinging to his shoulder. "Now I was hoping to get to Route 14 before making camp, but in hindsight that was a little too optimistic." Wanted to completely dodge any chance of running into actual ninja in the middle of the night – Nerine was mostly right, but I doubt they're leaving the area completely unguarded. "So we've got a choice to make: Camp here, or try and push through."

"Camp here," Nerine immediately said – at the exact same time that Cliff answered "Push through."

Oh, for fuck's-! Well, it had to happen eventually, I guess… "Cliff," Hoshi said, pointing to the man. "Why do you think that's better?"

The Rocket Enforcer crossed his arms, his poliwrath imitating him. "This is a survival exercise. Running the gauntlet in the dark is literally what it's for – what we're out here for." Hoshi blinked as Cliff paused. Well shit, I can't actually think of an argument to that. "It's also probably the only place we'll be able to actually do any safe night training – Route 14 is wilderness, while this place is simulated wilderness."

Nerine winced. "Not that simulated…"

Hoshi nodded at his superior, then turned to the group's youngest member. "Reasonable, but let's hear the other side. Nerine?"

She winced further, her shoulders curling in. What the fuck is up with you since the Gym job? Hoshi didn't ask. Arcus fuck, it's like Puce stole your confidence.

"…I might run into people I know if we go through," Nerine eventually said. "I didn't… I don't exactly want to explain to people where I've been, or who you are."

Bart smiled, speaking to a member of Hoshi's group for maybe only the second or third time since they'd set out. "There's no need to be alarmed, should such a thing occur. Simply tell them the truth: you are a student of Vermilion City's most prestigious academy, out on a training expedition with some other students. We can even say it was your idea to come here, since you're familiar with the area."

"I don't actually know my way around, I just know what the place is for…" Nerine began, but she trailed off, the silence eventually broken by a huff. "Do whatever you want, I guess." She stepped away from the circle, loudly digging in her pack for a snack bar.

Hoshi sent Bart the evil eye, and received a raised brow in return. "What?" he asked. "Am I wrong? This is far from a restricted area; being caught by Fuchsia's black ops isn't even an issue."

"Uh," Mojo interjected. "Not true? Me and my bros don't have licenses for these 'mons. Pretty sure ninja can arrest people."

Cliff spoke next, his tone soft in a way that didn't match his face. "Kazubara isn't wrong – the ninja clans tend to have as much respect for the Indigo League's laws as we do. They won't bother reporting you, even if they rifle through our wallets while we aren't looking."

Tor made to speak, but seemed to reconsider. He grasped his girlfriend's hand, and was silent as Kenny bitched about having to walk in the dark for a little bit – but Hoshi kept an eye on the man, who seemed deep in thought. Oh? We gonna see a little backbone out of the rookies?

Hoshi wasn't sure if he actually wanted that – obviously obedience made for better underlings, which these three would be for the foreseeable future, but commanding a Pokémon took some level of assertiveness.

In a way, the two sections of the career were at odds with each other. Like most jobs, I guess. You mouth off to the boss, you're a shitty worker; you need orders for every little thing, you're also a shitty worker.

"I want to become stronger," Tor eventually said, bowling over the teasing Casca was sending Kenny's way. "I… I still don't quite know how we ended up here, but I, and my friends, are…" He chewed on his words. The man's eyes were brown, a darker shade than his fluffy hair, but in the light of the sunset they seemed to glow gold. "Fighting for something more. I want to try doing this."

Bart gave a sarcastic clap, while Cliff nodded and spoke. "That settles that, then. We'll go as far as we can, and bunk down sometime around midnight." Then he eyed Hoshi. "If that's fine with you."

"Yeah, works for me. As long as everyone's on the same page."

Hoshi once again felt relief that the group's highest ranking Rocket was willing to let him take the lead – yeah, the instructors gave him the job directly, but it was easy to imagine a scenario where Cliff took charge and he was left as a background character in his own 'special mission.'

"Ah, but before we get going…" Bart said, his expression twisting into a Ryan-like haughty smirk. "I believe you promised me a Pokémon battle, didn't you?"
 
5.04 - The Pursuit of an Ideal
"I believe you promised me a Pokémon battle, didn't you?"

For a moment Hoshi felt only annoyance, a rough red froth forming between his ears as the setting sun's light bathed Route 13's entrance in gold. Bart's eyes were as shapely as the rest of his face, with long lashes and black irises that had picked up a bronze hue from the ambiance – and for a fraction of a second Hoshi imagined those eyes turned into a ruin to match the one they'd just passed through.

The man's ridiculous hair submerged in blood like a wrecked ship, bruises adorning his face in place of old bite marks from rampaging gyarados.

But then a surprising chuckle emerged from Hoshi's throat, confidence breaking through the spectre of bubbling anger. "You wanna battle right before running a Route in the dark? Alright." Guts's ball almost jumped into his hand as Crow took to the air, the zubat sensing his intent and moving before he even needed to voice the order. "I'm game. Two on two?" You've only got two, and if I beat them both you'll need to rely on someone else for the night while they recover. I know electabuzz, and that kabuto won't be able to function well on dry land. I'll knock that holier-than-thou smirk right off your fucking-

His thoughts were interrupted by a meaty hand on his shoulder. "Oi," Kenny broke in both verbally and physically, stepping in to stand between Hoshi and the overly-pretty gangster. "I call first dibs! You can take 'im down again right after, Boss, but I wanna fight first."

Hoshi's brows came together in mixed emotion. "Huh?" What the..? Where did this come from? "What, did something happen while I was upstairs fetching-"

Again, he was interrupted – this time by Ryan snapping his fingers. "Ah, I knew I recognised that haircut from somewhere! This is the man who knocked you out of that little debut tournament we had, wasn't he?"

"Yeah!" Kenny growled. His fists came together a few times as he stepped further forward. "I gotta avenge my loss! You 'n me are rivals, Pompadour! Bring out that weird beetle, and I'll show you how far Bubbles 's come!"

Bart's eyes widened fractionally, his chin tilting up as his expression went from challenging to mildly disgusted. "Pardon? Rivals?" His lips were flat, but Hoshi could feel the veneer of amusement wafting under his skin – the boredom was an act. Fucker sure likes being a fucking drama queen. I guess it was already obvious from the way he dresses. "I think I would recall if I had a rival."

The precise, articulate words were countered by Kenny's low growls. "Well you do, so c'mon – bring out your Pokémon." His bald head, much like Bart's eyes, was coloured bronze by the setting sun as he tossed his broad-brimmed leather hat to the side. The sturdy coat came off next, and Hoshi winced as the summer jacket that had been mashed between it and the grunt's uniform came into view. It was coated in blood, a long, crusty streak going from shoulder to hip. "Or 'r you scared, pretty boy?"

Am I getting blue-balled right now? Hoshi wondered as the two men glared at each other. His rattata's ball was heavy in his palm, the tool expanded and wobbling gently. For fuck's sake.

But if Bart really was the guy who knocked Kenny out of the Rocket Little Cup, then he supposed the man had prior claim to the guy's throat. Hoshi rolled his eyes, stepping away. "Whatever. You can take the first swing, I guess."

"Yeah! Thanks Boss, I'll kick his ass!" Kenny brandished his Pokéball, violence expressed in the glint of his bared teeth. "Or are you chicken, Pompadour?"

The man's expression went from projected annoyance to the genuine article. "…Fine. I suppose I'll give you the honour of losing to me – a second time, apparently."

The rest of the Rockets backed off, moving to the sides of the path as the two readied their Pokéballs, banter complete. "I'll serve as referee, if there are no objections?" Ryan projected, and nobody spoke out.

"Alright," he continued, stepping between the men. "This will be a one-on-one Pokémon battle. No mid-battle use of items, and returning your Pokémon to its ball shall count as a forfeit."

Kenny scoffed as the blond paused for dramatic effect. "Get on with it, Suit."

Ryan stepped back, returning to the sideline with a bright smile and a raised arm. "To knockout or surrender, then. Loose at the count of three. One, two-"

As he shouted "Three!" the two grunts tossed their balls, both aiming for the middle of the field.

"Fuck 'um up, Savage!" "Beady, show this waste of a uniform a real man's fighting spirit."

Crow alighted on his shoulder once again, and Hoshi felt a momentary flash of irritation at being a spectator rather than combatant. But as the Pokémon coalesced – nearly touching each other – all his attention was dragged into analyzing the battle. Ah, he's sent out Savage, not Bubbles. That would be bad if Bart had decided to use his electabuzz, but I guess that was the point of goading him in the first place.

…Or probably not. Kenny isn't that canny.


The frantic shouts of the trainers washed over his ears, turning into white noise behind the actions of the lickitung and kabuto. Savage's tongue extended, nearly snaring the beetle in the first second – but a water jet shot out from the kabuto's underside, sending it into the air and away from the questing pink muscle. Not Water Gun – Aqua Jet? It spun above the field, iridescent shell glowing gold as a wave of mud followed the water. The muck – Mud-Slap and Sand Attack together, maybe? – liberally coated Savage's sticky tongue, and he gurgled in displeasure.

"Supersonic!"

"Retreat."

The kabuto – Beady, Hoshi's brain finally processed – landed heavily, but despite the rough crash it was only still for a fraction of a second before a second Aqua Jet blasted it away from its opponent. The waves of Supersonic sound stirred dust from the dry autumn ground as Savage let loose, but they failed to reach their target. Huh, I guess it can move on land… Probably drains its stamina pretty hard, though. Candy only had so many Water Guns in her for any given battle, and while this Pokémon was more experienced, Hoshi figured the same logic still applied.

"Oi! Don't just stand there!"

"Good dodge. Let's keep our distance from this smelly creature." Bart's eyes flashed as Savage wrung his tongue out like a towel, more occupied with cleaning himself than Kenny's orders to pursue. "Ancient Power."

The kabuto stilled – and then, for long seconds, nothing happened. Huh? Is this a charge-up move like Solar Beam?

It didn't feel like it. No, Hoshi concluded, it wasn't; the atmosphere was wrong. There was no premonition of power, no building tension beyond what the grunt's words evoked. When a white glow erupted from the beetle's shell – and a spike of stone erupted from under its feet, which struck Savage in the belly – it almost felt anticlimactic. Despite packing enough oomph to send the slowly approaching lickitung tumbling, something felt… missing.

That felt like when I try to make Crow use Bite. She can do it, but it's not… done. Beady couldn't properly complete the move, which made it sluggish and weak.

But did that really matter, when Savage's only ranged option was Supersonic? It figures – even if the beetle runs out of water, Kenny has the one Pokémon out of all of us that might just be slower than a crawling bug. Even Bear was faster on her feet, as long as she hadn't used Curse. I thought it was a clever move at the start, but Bubble might actually have had a better chance at winning with Sand Attack and some luck; Savage is tough, but on his own he struggles to deal damage.

And as the battle progressed, Hoshi found that his thoughts mirrored reality – for the most part. The battle turned into a slow, grinding affair; Beady swiftly became tired from using the incomplete attack, and it failed to knock the lickitung out before things were forced into melee. Savage, on the other hand, was unable to land any Licks – the only damage he was doing was from confusing the kabuto, causing it to careen around when it used Aqua Jet. The beetle sent itself dashing against the ground as often as it struck its opponent, and with a few Defence Curls Savage was only taking bruises.

Pretty soon – in absolute terms; subjectively it felt like watching paint dry – the battlefield was a mess of mud and churned earth. Hoshi looked speculatively over to where Puce had begun battling two of the rookies, Tomato the koffing facing Tor's spearow in the air while Bear the slowpoke was being beaten up by Lilian's increasingly enraged mankey.

Those both look like more interesting battles at this point, but… Kenny was his underling, and this battle had emotional stakes for the man, as drop-dead boring as it was to watch. Hoshi simply had to tough it out.

This is like that double battle we had at the start of the month, but without a dragon to get quick knockouts. The kabuto is… actually pretty similar to Savage in terms of strengths and weaknesses, probably. Slow and defensive, though Aqua Jet lets it make up for its stubby legs. Its attacks were definitely better than Savage's, but neither really had the ability to knock out the other – this was going to come down to determination and stamina. Or rather… fighting spirit. Hah.

The battle dragged onwards like a metapod climbing a tree, but finally, as the sun dipped down below the treeline, Bart gave in. "Ridiculous," he muttered, his Pokéball's laser shooting out to return Beady. "It's like fighting a training dummy. At this rate we'll still be pummeling you while walking back to the city; I concede."

Kenny pumped his arms, roaring and running onto the field. "Yeah! Concede my ass, I fuckin' won! Get some!" He gave his lickitung a noogie, somehow energetic about the result despite the glacial, anticlimactic battle.

Savage, for his part, blew a tired raspberry and keeled over. He was dead asleep before he hit the ground.







"Yo, time to wake up."

Nerine's eyelids split open with a great and lingering reluctance, the world appearing in blotches of blue and purple and black. Oh. Is it dusk already?

Her glasses went back on her face, and as she rubbed the gritty gunk out of her eyes she found that she felt… better. Not good, but better. The innocent man she might very well have killed had things gone a hair worse had apparently decided not to appear in her dreams today, for which she was grateful. Her ekans hissed and uncoiled slightly from around her neck, while her venonat made near-inaudible sounds as it nestled against her side.

Hoshi – why was it always him that woke her up like this? – offered her a hand, and she stood. "So… can I ask about that?" he said, and it took her a moment to realise she'd been given a question.

It was starting to become properly dark – how long had the battles taken? "Huh? About what?" Did something else happen while she'd been asleep?

"The…" he began, but then Hoshi paused as a frustrated look planted itself firmly on his face. His hand came up to gesture roughly. "The everything. The sleeping and the drugs and the not showing up to training and… all of that shit."

And suddenly, Nerine was tired all over again. "I… I don't wanna talk about it. It's complicated." Her stomach growled – though it was more from general distress than anything close to hunger.

The Rocket looked at her with narrow eyes, displeased – but after a second his gaze stopped being quite so piercing. "Fine. You've got your own shit going on, and I'll respect that – to a point. But if you fuck up something important because of 'it's complicated,' then we'll be having a long, long talk. Understood?"

Her lips were dry – and her tongue, too. Fuck. When's the last time I drank something? She fumbled for her canteen. "Okay."

The one-word answer seemed to be just satisfying enough, because Hoshi sent her a final squint before turning away. She leaned against the tree for a moment, filling her belly with water as the smog filling her head cleared. She was only forced to take a breath when a peel of thunder rang out, startling her enough for liquid to jump down the wrong hole.

Nerine coughed wetly, and realised that another battle was happening not ten metres away.

Wait, Hoshi is – did Kenny's fight really take this long? She'd assumed he would lose instantly – that guy had no idea how to use his Pokémon effectively, and the fact he managed to win every now and then despite his lack of strategy was almost insulting. At least Puce tries to learn… Ugh, no, I don't wanna think about that right now…

Sherry rubbed her bristly fur against Nerine's ankle, and she came back to herself slightly. Fuck. I really am fucked up.

I… Didn't think it would be this hard.
And it wasn't like she'd been expecting it to be easy, but… I'm not sure what I'll do if I see someone from the clan. I've gotten sloppy… They weren't supposed to know I was connected to the Gym at all…

She felt like she was breaking apart, long nights and conflicted days chipping away at her like tiny boring insects stripping the bark from a tree – but then another peal of thunder rang out, and her expression firmed. She reached down, dragging her fingers through the venonat's thick fur. "Yeah, I know," she said to no-one. A ways away Guts the rattata dodged a Thunder Punch by millimetres. "If it was easy, anybody could do it."

Even further away, on the other side of the path, the three new Rocket Grunts inspected a vacant-eyed lickitung as Kenny showed it off. Puce was sitting with Cliff, nattering away while the Rocket Enforcer occasionally grunted back, his eyes on the battle. Casca was nearby, and Puce was tending to her Pokémon with a Potion.

For a moment, she looked at the scene as an outsider: a group of young adults were casually going through the motions of becoming Pokémon Trainers, hiking through the wilderness between cities. A normal, everyday occurrence.

Then she blinked, and the illusion ended. Once more she was a low-level henchman among a group of criminals. Her Senior Grunt was putting an unruly underling in his place, while the Enforcer scanned the trees for hidden eyes. The three new recruits were uncertain, but in no time they would become accustomed to it – the fights, the tension, the… treason, all of it.

Her stomach lurched, but she forced it down. If it was easy, anybody could do it. The thought steadied her as much as the slightly-warm snake around her neck, Tomato protecting what little skin was left exposed from the encroaching night's chill. I've just gotta muddle through. There's a reason I'm here – there's a reason it's me here.

She all but sidled along the dense treeline bordering the path, until she was close enough to the blonde woman – Mimosa Kamoku – that they could speak without it being awkward. "Hey," she said, and the Rocket Grunt's head turned. "You want a smoke? Trade you for whatever you've got."







Once again, Hoshi locked eyes with Kaz Kazubara – and this time, nothing barged in to interrupt their battle. The only thing between him and his opponent was Puce, who was looking even larger than usual in her camping gear as she played the role of referee.

"Um, same rules as last time?" She asked, and Hoshi nodded.

"Sounds good to me."

Guts's ball was once again already in his hand. She was the obvious pick; the fastest of his Pokémon, enough to hopefully equal a fully-grown electabuzz. And if her special ability is what I'm hoping it is…

"Stick to the plan." he muttered into the expanded Pokéball. "Start with Focus Energy, and stay close."

Puce nodded back. "Alright… On three. One, two, three!"

Her countdown was fast – much faster than Ryan's had been, anyway – and both he and Bart were caught off-guard. Then the shock broke, and their balls flew.

Bart's struck near Hoshi's side of the darkening field, surprise flashing across his face as he saw his opponent do the same. The two monsters took the field less than a metre apart. "Confident you can match Madder's Thunder Punch, are you?"

Hoshi didn't respond to the banter, focusing all his attention on the electabuzz already winding back its – her, given the antenna length and the pattern of black stripes across yellow fur – arm. This isn't a match I'll win by looking at the opposing trainer. No, this is a test of how much attention I've paid to Bob over the years.

Because while Lieutenant Surge's most iconic Pokémon was his raichu, Blitz, the ones he used most often in battle were Humvee the electrode, and Jackson the electabuzz. And while each Pokémon would obviously have their own way of fighting, influenced by their personality and trainer…

You'd have to be a fucking idiot not to copy what your city's Gym Leader does with the same Pokémon, at least to start out.

He'd seen just a hint of it during their trek through the ruined docks; this electabuzz, this Madder, fought very nearly identically to Jackson. But while Jackson would stomp ten Guts without breaking a sweat, Hoshi was confident this electabuzz wasn't nearly as strong.

The battle began well; Madder's fists sang with electricity as she followed the half-hidden order, a sputtering hiss of superheated air echoing around as it bounced off the dense trees on either side of the field. "Stay low," Hoshi ordered, and Guts spread her legs further as two things happened: the electabuzz punched with all her weight behind the blow, and the energy in Guts's body became sharp and focused.

"Now! Swift!"

The stars erupted from her mouth, and for a moment Hoshi's muscles collectively clenched as Madder took one, two, three hits without flinching – but then the fourth struck the electric type Pokémon in the eye, and her punch went wild. It smashed down, a shockwave of sparks dancing out and arcing into both her and Guts-

But the tiny edge of the attack wasn't enough to deter Hoshi's rattata. She charged forward, darting under the larger Pokémon's round body to strike at its legs with Tail Whip.

"Shockwave," Bart ordered, calm despite losing the first exchange, and the word caused Hoshi's jaw to clench. Damn, I was hoping for Discharge.

"Bite!" he ordered, forced to deviate from the plan he'd set out only a single moment in. Shock Wave was weaker than Discharge, yes, but it also covered a much larger area – there was no point in trying to dodge.

His teeth grit even harder as Madder got her attack off first, a wave of diffuse electricity expanding so far, Hoshi had to take two steps back lest he and Crow be caught in it as well. Guts squeaked in pain, but her teeth found the Electabuzz's ankle.

Bart's voice was tinged with a mix of superior smugness, and distaste – it was obvious he thought he would win, and also that he should be winning more. "Again."

"Keep biting!" Damn it all, I misjudged him – I thought he'd be like Bob, and prioritise speed and power. Shock Wave was maybe the one move that he couldn't work around; it hit the whole field, so predicting the opponent's movements was useless. He only used Thunder Punch against those fishermen. "Guts, Quick Attack! Aim high!"

His rattata reared up, sinking her teeth into the enemy's thigh with quick-but-shallow nips – and then its soft belly as the electabuzz turned. Electricity arced out again, but Guts was giving as good as she got-

And before another Shock Wave could be released, Bart changed his order.

"Belay!" he yelled, raising his voice for the first time. "Don't let it bite you – grab this rat and crush it. Thunder Punch!"

Hoshi's heart beat wildly in his chest, small stabs of pain prickling against his bare neck as he swept his arm out, forcing Crow to dig the tiny, near-invisible claws at the ends of her wings into his skin. Yes! That's right, use the attack you've seen on television since you were a little kid! "Dodge, under her legs! Tail Whip!"

Guts managed to evade Madder's grab by a hair, but the electabuzz also dodged; she leapt over Guts's swinging tail, pivoting on her uninjured leg to aim her punch more solidly.

Another Swift came out, but Hoshi was again surprised by a move he hadn't expected; Madder opened her mouth, another set of twinkling stars firing out of the 'mon's wide gullet. Seriously? Why the fuck would he have Swift and-

The thought violently cut off as Hoshi swept his arm again. "Dodge!" And miraculously, they held on – the two attacks nullified each other, but Guts managed to leap to the side at the last possible moment.

Against Lieutenant Surge, the best strategy is to match him – to go for trades, and hope your offense can match his while your defenses nullify his speed. But that won't work here; Madder is built differently than I'd thought. More technical, more able to handle an endurance match.

He took a breath and bellowed as Guts missed a Bite attack, Madder retracting her arm before the Rattata could latch on. "Full offence! Go for the eyes, Guts!"

"Paralyse it and retreat."

The electabuzz rubbed her hands together as Guts leapt, and again her attack came out first. A faint ripple of electricity went out, less violent than the Shock Waves but no less deadly in its own way. The Thunder Wave burrowed into Guts's body, her muscles turning jittery – and Hoshi felt the ghost of a smile lurking under his snarl. "Try and power through!" he yelled. C'mon! It gave us the edge against Junior in the Gym battle – I'm pretty sure your ability is Guts, Guts!

That was the theory, at least; it was shockingly hard to puzzle out in training, since the only Pokémon in the group that could poison with any consistency could also just fly out of range of his rattata's melee attacks.

Come on, he repeated to himself as Madder backpedaled, spinning her arms to build up a faster charge. A few good hits – if we can get it on the ground, the fight is done! We can win this!

Guts charged forward, legs shaky, and the Shock Wave washed over her once, then again. She came within jumping distance — and the electabuzz calmly stepped back as the paralysis did its job. Even if her ability did amplify her strength, Guts had no special immunity to the nerve-disrupting electricity.

"Damn it! Swift, then close in! Aim low-!"

Hoshi's teeth came together like a guillotine, cutting off the last moment of the order as red coloured his vision. We can win this! There has to be something..! And… there was. Do I try it? Using an incomplete move…

It was what had cost Bart his battle against Kenny, he was pretty sure. Beady had been on its last legs; Bart had only withdrawn because he wanted to save face. Without those Ancient Powers draining the kabuto's stamina, the result probably would have been different.

There were three moves that the Mini-Dex displayed in warning-orange text when Hoshi inserted it into Guts's ball: Tackle, which had fallen to the side the moment she'd learned Bite. Hyper Fang, which they'd been training furiously. And Pursuit, which Hoshi had been mostly ignoring – an attack that specifically countered a fleeing opponent. There were a few reasons they'd been neglecting it; Guts was already fast, and Quick Attack was right there when they needed to get in a hit against a retreating Pokémon. Bite was a stronger dark type attack. Time spent learning the move, which Kantonian Rattata weren't entirely suited for, was time that wasn't going into Hyper Fang and general fitness.

But in this situation…

No. Hoshi let out a breath. It's an even worse option than what we're doing now. I'm imagining something that isn't gonna happen. I'll stick to what worked against Junior.

The battle continued. Madder took the Swift on raised forearms, the Focus Energy-boosted stars drawing blood but failing to disrupt the building Shock Wave. It came out, Guts took the hit stoically, and she dashed forward as the electabuzz backpedaled. Two more exchanges were traded before Madder hit the tall grass, croaking in displeasure as her feet tangled in the forest undergrowth.

There we go. "Go in!"

Bart's scoff reached his ears, only audible to his hindbrain as Hoshi's vision began to narrow. "As if such an obvious strategy would work. Madder, grab it."

Guts dashed forward, sending a single star out to crash against her opponent in a spray of pure while light as she jumped – and the electabuzz once again took the hit without flinching, grabbing the rat out of the air before her teeth could sink into the monster's face.

A Thunder Punch smashed into the rattata's face, blackening her fur. And so as Madder wound up for a second one, and as Guts sent out another Swift while trying to pry herself free… Hoshi hefted her Pokéball.

"Return," he conceded before the final blow could land. "Fuck." The plastic shell felt cold in his hand – no, it was cold, the night's chill finally creeping back into his awareness. "Fuck."

"Oh… Um, the winner is Mister Bart, by concession," Puce announced for the benefit of no-one. "But that was a good match, though! I bet that electabuzz is at a third badge level, at least!"

"At least," Bart repeated. Then he returned his own Pokémon, swapping her for Beady the kabuto. The grunt walked forward, and it took Hoshi a second to realise he was waiting for the post-battle handshake.

With gritted teeth, Hoshi met him in the centre of the field. "I wasn't expecting that much from a rat," Bart said as their hands clamped. The man's grip was loose, disrespectful, but Hoshi weathered both it and the faint praise without exploding. "I can see why you made Senior Grunt. You should find a stronger Pokémon, to better utilise your skills."

His words might have sounded cordial – or at least half-cordial – but the smug tone and tilt of his chin turned them into a deadly insult. Hoshi bit his tongue, the minor pain and taste of blood steadying his wavering vision.

"Your Pokémon was stronger than mine," was all he said before wrenching his hand from the grunt's loose grip. Then Hoshi turned, and raised his voice to call for the entire group. "Five minutes, then we're heading out. We'll go as far as we can, then pitch our tents and sleep."







The woods are horrible, Tor thought as his spearow defiantly Pecked away at a larger, stronger noctowl. The buildup of Leers and Growls from he and his friends' Pokémon meant that he was doing more damage and it less, but that could only account for so wide a gap.

Worse, Mojo's meowth and Lily's mankey couldn't really do anything but layer on the weak supporting moves, and they were beginning to lose their effectiveness as the large owl realised that they were paper tigers. It swept its wings back and forward, swooping around Spearow's strikes like… Well, like an adult stepping around a baby.

Mojo tossed a rock with a cry of "Fuck off!" the annoyance in his words at odds with the fear revealed by the backsplash of their collective flashlights.

Fear, but not terror; the owl probably wouldn't kill them, even if it won – just one of their Pokémon.

Not that they weren't fighting like their lives were on the line. "Spearow, stay low! Bring it close for the others!" Tor's fists clenched his bird's ball tightly, and he wished he had something equally solid he would be willing to lose – Mojo's arm was okay, but he was a batter, not a pitcher. I should've been picking up rocks like him. If I'd known we'd be going out on the first day, I'd have…

Well, he probably would have split, honestly. The current situation was just a little bit fucked up, holy shit. Spearow did its best to swoop low, but the noctowl matched its speed despite being larger and heavier, powerful wingbeats driving Tor's gifted Pokémon to the ground. Then it turned its head, catching Mojo's cat as it attempted to pounce from a low-hanging branch.

The telekinetic shove sent it, too, to the forest floor. Then another rock beaned the noctowl centre-mass, and it sent out another Confusion – this time, aimed at the annoying human.

"Gurk!" Mojo exclaimed as he was lifted and sent into a tree. His cat yowled, leaping again from the underbrush, and Lily's mankey also leapt from a tree.

A screen of glowing light encircled the owl, both Pokémon bouncing off the protective film.

"It's predicting our attacks! I didn't think wild Pokémon were smart like this!" Lily yelled, drawing a Potion from a pouch on her heavy vest. "What do we do?!"

Mojo rose out of the darkness like a zombie from loose-packed soil, clawing at the heavy foliage as he rooted around for his flashlight. "I think…" Tor turned his way. Yeah? "…This is poison ivy. Yeah, I'm pretty sure."

Tor huffed out a panicked laugh. "Fuck off! We're screwed here, man!" How is this even slightly reasonable? I have a spearow, a fucking baby spearow! I should be fighting pidgey at the beach, not evolved Pokémon in an Arcus damned secret-ninja-training forest maze! Where are the others?!

Lily recalled her mankey, then released it again to get it within Potion range. Tor would have liked to do the same, but his fucking bird was somewhere under this stupidly dense nature. If they made it out of this, he was staying nice and safe in the city for the rest of his life.

"Don't panic," his girlfriend said, hypocritically dropping the medicine with a curse. "One of the Rockets should be here any second. We've been screaming our heads off for like a whole minute here."

Unless they're caught up with their own battles, his traitorous brain supplied. No, screw that, these guys are supposed to be strong. His hands shook in a way he hadn't experienced since his first professional game, Spearow's ball rattling with an soft, otherworldly sound as whatever technology was inside tried to keep the thing stable. "Yeah," he tepidly sent back, unable to muster any enthusiasm for the lie. "We're gonna be fine."

Then, in a flash of blue light, the lie became true. Eerie fire struck across the noctowl's left wing, blasting away feathers and sending it down with a surprised "Hoo?"

It landed well, talons silently digging into the forest floor as it became half-obscured by greenery. Another inquisitive hoot sounded out – and then it was gone, brown plumage melting into the darkness as it decided this particular meal wasn't worth the effort.

"Ho there!" came a distinctly upper-class voice from behind them, and Tor turned. Bright platinum curls flashed as two flashlights illuminated the approaching Rocket, and Ryan – Tor thought his name was Ryan, at least; he'd been introduced to like ten people today and he was freaking out – raised his arm to shield his eyes. "Ah, I had a feeling it was you three. Say, are the others nearby? I seem to have somehow wandered away from Mutsu and the rest."

Tor opened his mouth, then closed it. After a second of silence his best friend did what he'd thought better of, cursing loudly.

Yeah, we're definitely lost.







The fire crackled with a perverse merriment as Tor stared into it, the flames dancing in glee while his girlfriend searched for a vein on his arm to inject the Antidote. Stop anthro-whatevering the fire, dummy. It's not happy you're hurt, you're just… scared.

His teeth clenched against the pain as the needle went in. Tor didn't know why nurses and doctors were always blatantly lying; there was no pinch, just a straight-up stabbing pain from being literally stabbed. "There we go," Lily commented as she withdrew the needle, the bulbous, thick-walled container now missing a fifth of its contents. "No idea why they bought the stuff that needs to be injected. Doesn't the rubbing kind work just as good?"

Mojo snorted. "Don't ask me, man. I guess it's more gangster."

Hah. There's probably some actual reason out there, but I'd believe it. That tall, ugly guy with the scarred knuckles was scary, even more than the over-muscled people he surrounded himself with. A rattata shouldn't be able to take chunks out of an electabuzz. That's not… normal.

"They're probably made for humans specifically," Ryan broke in. "I believe Mutsu got your supplies from a specialty hiking shop, rather than a Pokémart."

Tor grunted. "Well, it works well enough." Already he could feel the cold, I'm dying feeling in his veins warming up. Didn't think a Poison Powder from a venonat would feel so… bad. "Are we stopping for the night?" His eyes turned from the fire to the trees, fear still coiling in his gut despite the dragon heating itself by the fire – where it was receiving its own, spray-on medicine.

"I think that's best," Ryan replied. "We might be able to find the others, but we'd likely need to dig into our supplies of Repel to keep going. And while we have some leeway…"

"We should save it for sleeping, yeah."

Mojo groaned. "Dumb idea to come out here after dark. You just had to open your mouth for all of us, didn't you?"

The fire continued to crackle away. The feeling of eyes on his back was overwhelming, but Tor was doing his best to ignore the sensation – if there were actually something watching from nearby, one of their four Pokémon would have noticed. Unless it's a haunter. Or any other ghost, for that matter. Or…

He sent the thought away with a shake of his head. "Is this what it's usually like?" he asked, just to break the silence. "Being a part of this?"

The grunt smiled, somehow peppy despite the bug bites, both from Pokémon and smaller insects, peppering his face. "No, not at all. For the most part, it is… very simple. Standing in the right place, behind the right man. Doing paperwork and moving cargo, not unlike many other professions. Today was…" In the flickering firelight, there was something almost draconic to his strangely-proportioned features. He didn't look like his bagon, not at all, but Tor suddenly felt sure that if he squinted, Ryan's tight platinum curls would look like scales. His large eyes would become slitted dinner plates, his long nose and small mouth transforming into a snout. "…More like being a trainer."

Tor shivered. Don't listen to the weird parts of your brain right now. You're tired, you're scared out of your gourd, you're probably some kind of high from the Antidote… "You talk like you've been… what we are, for a long time."

The Rocket Grunt continued to smile, staring into – or maybe past – the fire. "I have been… well, in spirit." He made to continue – but before he could, the dragon curled at his side raised its head. Everyone froze.

And then a swooping shape flapped lazily across the treetops, passing over their heads seemingly without noticing their presence. It was the same size as the noctowl had been, but where that Pokémon had flown completely silently this one cut the air with two distinct sets of whisper-soft wingbeats. Silhouetted against the distant stars, all Tor could see was its general shape: a round, large body, and four wings shaped like those of a bat.

He shivered again. A golbat? Something else? If there were Pokémon left undiscovered in Kanto it would be here, in the depths of these dark woods.

The mysterious Pokémon went on its way, the small huddle remaining silent until Ryan again spoke. "I was raised in a family that has… very close ties to my current employers."

"Tell me about it."

Tor wasn't sure why he asked. Maybe it was the desperate need to listen to something other than the heartbeat hammering away in his ears, or maybe he was actually interested, somewhere under the semi-rational terror.

Ryan's expression smoothed. "I'm not certain that's wise. This is shinobi territory; there could be any number of ears listening in."

"I'm not asking for… compromising stuff, or anything. Just," tell me what this is. I came into this through FtL, but is it even related? Have we been tricked? "The basics. The feel."

"Hmm…" Ryan licked his lips, eyes finally straying from the fire. "I suppose I can do that. Nothing compromising…" The silence was deafening, full of imagined chitters and hoots and hisses. Tor's spearow turned its head lazily, scanning the ground, but despite that his pulse refused to return to normal.

Ryan's eyes passed over the wall of trees, so dense it was hard to tell one from another. "But what exactly is compromising? I am not ashamed of my heritage, nor have I ever done anything strictly illegal. So…" His smile returned. "Let us be frank. The first time I met Mister Apollo, Viridian's current Gym Leader, I was five years old. My father was taking me to visit an old friend, Viridian's previous leader, a man named Giovanni…"
 
Interlude - At the Speed of Light
Archer Apollo may not have been born in Viridian City, but after living in it for over twenty years – and being the Gym Leader for a fifth of those, besides – he thought he'd earned the right to consider it his city.

In substance, at least, if not in spirit.

"Challenger Shinichi, approach the podium!" the announcer roared, and the crowd followed with a massive cheer. Archer smiled; the end-of-season battles were always the most popular, and a full Gym was a profitable one.

On some days, they made fully double the amount the mayor sent for the entire year – more than enough to keep the largest stadium on the continent running, even after… other expenses.

Ten seconds passed as Archer let the challenger sweat it out. After all… A lord does not move until he deigns to move. The sound of the crowd echoing into the tunnel, the announcer's exclamations, the rush of his own blood – all of it melded together into a discordant symphony.

Or, perhaps, a marching song.

His thoughts turned dark enough to mirror the cool interior of his entrance hall. Today would tell if it was a triumphant song of victory… or a bitter recounting of defeat. If they strike now, before things are in place…

But no, it helped nothing to dwell on hypotheticals – not when it was, finally, out of his hands. The dice were cast; they would fall as they would. He rose, armour softly scraping against itself, and at last strode into the light. The crowd roared again, louder, as the great screens on either end of the stadium showed his entrance.

They displayed a slender man, clad in armour greener than any leaf. Not a single speck of skin was showing, even his eyes obscured by a ninjask-shaped mask. Other Pokémon features were evoked as well; the helmet curved up from the brow, becoming a crest not unlike the horn of a heracross, while the shoulders and thigh guards were obviously shaped like a scyther's chitinous exoskeleton.

And this was not mere mimicry; the armour Archer wore, like that of Kanto's rulers of old, was crafted from genuine chitin. Each piece was worked meticulously by hand, the overlapping plates shaped with fire and fine tools until they fit together seamlessly – something that could never be done on an industrial scale, as each giant bug left behind a subtly different husk. Not only was it functional – stronger than steel, by certain measurements – but it did the much more important job of evoking the correct image.

Archer was the Great Green Shogun of Viridian – the man who would turn the future into a recreation of a rose-tinted past, where the Evergreen City was king, and the rest of Kanto was forced to bow its head.

Yes. Today, of all days, the image must be perfect.

His eyes turned down from the screens as he took the first step up to his podium. The climb was long, narrow stairs lifting him a full five stories into the air, but perched on the very top he was still only standing level with the middle stands. The challenger was clearly visible despite the large distance between them: a man in rough clothing, aged somewhere between late teens and early twenties.

"Richard Shinichi," he spoke, the Gym's speakers carrying his voice to the entire stadium as he repeated the information his aide had fed him – an absolute necessity given that he sometimes battled two dozen different trainers in a single day. "This is the third time you stand before me. Are you prepared?"

The man's lips curled into a wave, unable to be discerned as either a smile or a frown. "I'll defeat you this time, Gym Leader."

"Very well." From a pocket in his armour came a small enamel pin – Viridian's Earth Badge. Archer held it up for a moment, then placed it delicately on the console in front of him. "The prize, should your soldiers defeat mine. I assume you are familiar with our customs by now, so…" His voice rose. "Send out your Pokémon!"

For the eighth badge, there was no referee; he, the Gym Leader, would call the match, and if his opponent forced their Pokémon beyond their limits… Well, that was their decision to make.

Two balls arced down to the recreation of Viridian Forest far below, and Archer turned his attention to the podium's console where a set of screens gave him – and his opponent; the two sides were, at least where visibility was concerned, afforded the same advantages – a close-up view of the action. The balls struck the ground like tiny meteors, somehow managing to avoid the criss-crossing branches, and two large, delicately hovering shapes were released with overlapping warbling cries.

The podium's speakers continued to feed him the sound as it morphed, technology melding with biology as a butterfree and venomoth cried out in battle-lust – and in a flash Archer recognised the trainer he was facing. They're both slightly larger than the pair he sent out last year, but the wing patterns are mostly the same.

Archer smiled again beneath the rigid mask. Perhaps he will actually win this year. Bug specialists – and Archer would count himself among that number, though the Gym's roster was as much the product of his trainers as himself – were as much Pokémon Breeders as Pokémon Trainers. The short lifespan of their chosen partners necessitated it; even with Pokéball stasis, any given capture would be old and grey by the time they reached their full potential.

And so, bug specialists had to commit to every aspect of their teams, raising them from generation to generation. Monitoring their diets, cultivating new moves and stronger bodies through successive breeding. Many thought the practice heartless – Archer himself would have said so, when he was younger. But as he had settled into his shell, he'd come to understand the truth.

Bug catchers were some of the best trainers in the world.


A minute passed as he took his time selecting his own pair, letting Shinichi scout the terrain. That was the one thing that set the two sides apart; the challenger, the invader, got a chance to make the first move. Archer's Pokémon would be vulnerable in that opening moment, unable to react for the fraction of a second after release. In exchange he, the Gym Leader, the shogun, got to see the invader coming and prepare accordingly.

Not the most realistic metaphor, but such were the limitations of the medium.

Pinsir and Scyther, he eventually decided. Shinichi had sent out a thematic pair, and it was only appropriate that he do the same. His balls were thrown down, his eyes drifting to a different screen that captured the result of their long descent.

"Quiver Dance!" the challenger called out the moment the balls entered the battlefield, and the Gym Leader's smile widened. Yes, he might finally earn his eighth badge. Shinichi had used his time well, positioning his bugs such that they could counter almost any starting position.

But it was not enough to counter any move. Archer did not need to say a word for his Pokémon to act; even before he fully coalesced Pinsir was leaping forward to block a Toxic and Sleep Powder with Protect, his shell taking on a hexagonal pattern for a heartbeat before the half-sphere of energy projected into three dimensions. Scyther took cover, placing her ally between herself and the butterfree, while the venomoth – which was already circling with shocking speed – was stymied by the dense thicket. A psychic glow enveloped her limbs as Agility multiplied all the movements she would be making for the rest of the battle.

"The butterfree first," Archer ordered as a second Toxic was sent out, and his scyther buzzed menacingly as she began waving her scythes to the inaudible tune of Swords Dance. The giant mantis juked left and right, managing to avoid the deadly gunk in a display that only looked effortless.

Protect faded and Pinsir moved further in, taking a Psychic from one enemy while the other again spun in the complicated loops of Quiver Dance. Archer allowed his attention to wander to the distant crowd; unless his opponent showed something truly unexpected, his elite-level Pokémon would not require further orders.

Ah, there they are. He couldn't be certain, not really, but the Indigo League's black operators weren't nearly as stealthy as they liked to think – or the rank-and-file weren't, at least. Four, six… an even dozen ninja that I can see. It was the effort they put in that marked them out; the dyed hair to hide that Fuchsia purple, the overly-plain clothes where others were in their Sunday best. The way they never quite looked right at him, trained subterfuge working against them when the situation called for overtness.

No doubt there were an equal number of operatives he wasn't seeing, but that was almost encouraging. It was imperative that they act on their suspicions – just not until tomorrow.

Another Protect blocked a combined Bug Buzz, the wavering cacophony amplified to a nearly deafening degree even with thirty metres of forest canopy and open space cushioning Archer from the attacks. The Gym Leader's smile persisted even as the obnoxious sound penetrated his helmet like he was wearing a copper bell. It looks like Seto arrived in time, he thought as his eyes moved to the VIP box. Good. Such a man is wasted on those two.

It was a shame he couldn't have had his chosen successor by his side, but such was life. The bulk of the League's forces would fall on him here in Viridian, with Athena's operations in Goldenrod taking most of the rest; the Electric Academy would be a tertiary target.

Scyther shook off the portion of the attack that had curved around her ally, her wings buzzing in an almost comically soft echo of the massive sound still rattling through the stadium. The moth and butterfly attempted to evade, and nearly managed it with their own enhanced speed – but Scyther's Aerial Ace landed, her own boosts and familiarity with the terrain carrying the day as the butterfree's left wing was very nearly sheared off.

It fell, managing to leave behind a billowing cloud of Sleep Powder before it struck the ground and Pinsir finished it off.

Good movements from the both of them. I'll have to commend my trainers for their work while we… prepare.

Shinichi pressed a button on his console, red light flashing out from its base to sweep across the entire forest, sending the injured bug directly into the Pokémon Storage System. His mouth was a flat line, hard and straight; he wasn't giving up despite taking the first loss.

"Good," Archer spoke aloud, and the battle went on. It was still possible he would lose – Pinsir was on his last legs after blocking so many top-tier attacks, Scyther had taken a hit of powder, and the venomoth had managed a third Quiver Dance while its partner was being knocked out – but even if he did, the showing had been splendid.

A Gym Leader did not need to win every time – should not win every time, even – but to appear weak was simply unacceptable.

Archer allowed the roar of the crowd to seep into his bones. Soon his layers of armour would be stripped off, and the Viridian City Gym Leader exposed as Team Rocket Boss for the second time – but right now, in this moment, the mask may as well have been skin.

"Pinsir, Guillotine. Scyther, Double Team."







Garcia Seto watched the eighth badge challenge enter its final climax, the two remaining Pokémon standing off like a pair of samurai.

The pinsir still had one last Protect in him, and the challenger knew that – the battle's end would revolve around how that move played out. If the venomoth could bait it out with a feint, its victory was all but assured; the beetle Pokémon would be left wide open when the shield failed. And conversely, should the moth attack recklessly and be successfully blocked, then it was the pinsir who would have the perfect chance to retaliate.

And since it had managed its own Swords Dance while hiding in the underbrush, that one hit would be enough; venomoth was not a bug type known for its durability.

"One hundred pokédollars says that the challenger takes it."

Garcia looked to the side, eyeing Giorgio Sampo as he took a pull from his bottle. "Hm. No bet," he decided, "Archer is sloppy today."

"Too true."

Of course, that was only to be expected; it was difficult to remain composed while the wolves closed in, after all.

"The stress of his position must be immense – I'm glad I've retired from the circuit."

"Nonsense," Giorgio countered. "You complain every single time we meet. 'Oh, Garcia, it's so boring in Vermilion. I really need to come back to the forest and just camp for a few weeks.' Make up your mind."

Garcia huffed out a chuckle. "At our age, being contrary is to be expected."

"Our age? You aren't even fourty, whelp." Giorgio took another drink before replying. "Then again, you've always carried on like an old man."

"I do have a wisdom beyond my years," the Rocket retorted, and the richly appointed viewing room fell silent as they watched the match end.

The venomoth whipped through the trees, its many dances stirring the energy in its core into a frenzy, while the pinsir squatted low in the brush. It was obvious that each Pokémon only had an approximate understanding of where the other was; only the trainers and the audience could see the full picture, aided by the numerous cameras hidden in the indoor forest.

This one is better at commanding a step removed than most. Hmm, perhaps I can get a word in afterwards, see if I can't find a match for Pierre. That moth's colouration is-

The thought died as he recalled exactly what today was for. Ah. Yes. Suppose I'll have to stay close to Mister Apollo…

The challenger's Pokémon arced around the pinsir's location, dropping Stun Spores that glowed like phosphorus – a feint; the volume was too low to be effective. It had another attack in the chamber, either a Psychic or Bug Buzz ready to unleash the moment Protect failed.

And evidently Archer was sharp enough to notice, because he simply clicked his tongue and continued to bide his time. The challenger's eyes sharpened, his frustration evident on the massive screens – the Quiver Dances would turn from boon to curse any minute now, the immense strain of holding them sapping his venomoth's stamina.

"Ah, I should have taken that bet. Look, he's panicking."

Giorgio frowned. "Hmm."

"Mephisto," the Gym's speakers projected to the audience's benefit, "Flush it out. Psychic, wide area."

The venomoth alighted on a tree – and then, so slowly it might have been mistaken for a gust of wind, all the leaves and stems around it began to bend down. The foliage descended over what must be approaching the footprint of a city block, undergrowth pressing to the ground in a show of immense, if diffuse, power.

Archer's answer came with contrasting swiftness. "Rock Slide. The unbowed tree."

Young Richard Shinichi's eyes went wide as he realised the mistake his Pokémon – and therefore he – had made. "Bug-"

Before he could get more than a word out, the pinsir rose up from its hiding place – but it did not merely stand. Its back appeared first, then a brief pause as it strained…

And then its mighty horns, dug into the earth, flung upwards. A great mass of tight-packed stones, more than any healthy forest floor could have ever had lurking below, followed the arc of its movement, rising into the sky like an avalanche being rewound through time. The venomoth took to the air, its Psychic telekinesis attempting to bat away the rain of boulders – but it was not nearly enough.

Shinichi furiously mashed his console, returning his Pokémon a split second before it was buried beneath the stone waterfall. The tree it had been sitting on disappeared into splinters, along with dozens of its unfortunate brethren as the Rock Slide lived up to its name.

Garcia clapped politely. "Good show!" he cheerily exclaimed, the man to his side only grumbling. Oh, what has you in a huff today, Sampo? You aren't even about to be exposed like we are. The crowd, meanwhile, cheered loud enough to rattle the glass of their private chamber – but the announcer was silent; he dared not take the Shogun's proclamation from him.

Archer took his sweet time, allowing the dust to settle before uncrossing his arms. "Your troops have quit the field," he growled, with greater showmanship than Garcia usually saw from him. "This battle is decided. Challenger Shinichi, you have yet to impress me. This badge will not be yours today." He plucked the symbol of the forest from its place and returned it to his pocket as the trainer looked on, and the crowd's tone turned consoling.

Shinichi balled up his fists, but managed to take the loss with good grace. "I'll be back," he promised, lowering his wide-brimmed hat to hide his expression. "Stronger."

The Gym Leader's head inclined. "I will look forward to it. Your Pokémon and their balls will be waiting for you at the front desk."

Both of them began to descend the long flight to ground level, and the screens switched to showing highlights of the match as the announcer prattled on.

"Terrible battle," Giorgio commented. "Too reliant on boosting moves, both of them."

"You're grouchy today," was all Garcia replied before reaching down to pick up his own drink. Unlike his friend, the old bug catcher had yet to even open it. Can't get drunk just yet, after all; there are shinobi about. He felt a mild embarrassment as the highlights went on; Protect hadn't factored into the ending at all. I suppose I'm not quite at that level yet…

The Sampo patriarch was silent as the cork came out, and that silence continued as Garcia poured himself a small glass of sweet wine. "Come on, out with it," he cajoled. "You've been making faces for a minute now."

Giorgio huffed. "Arcus forbid I get a moment to think." But the comment did its job, and after a few seconds he opened his mouth again. "Why shouldn't I be grouchy? My son's off in a different city entirely, forced into those two's madcap schemes."

"Yes, he's probably having a right adventure at the moment." Garcia took a pull of his drink, savouring the taste; Archer continually refused to tell anyone where he got his wine from, so his trips to the Viridian Gym were always a special treat. I suppose that's why he does it. No better show of power than complete exclusivity. "But that was always the plan, wasn't it? He was never going to be satisfied with being a silk merchant."

Another huff, then Giorgio took his own pull of wine, right from the bottle. "It's happening too fast. The boy's nineteen."

"You were the same age when you took over from your grandmother, weren't you?" His friend grumbled, and Garcia shook his head. "Don't be a worrywart; Archer's given him that delightful little dragon to protect him. He's safer than you are, and you aren't even in the crosshairs."

Giorgio continued to be a grumpy old man, and endured a few more teasing comments about his son before forcefully rerouting the conversation to the local baseball team.

But even as the words turned mundane as could be, a certain tension continues to underlay the day's events.







"How long do I have?"

Archer's personal aide, an overwhelmingly fat man who went by Hagegeki, flipped a page on his clipboard. Despite looking like the most stereotypical of roughneck gangsters, Archer had yet to meet any person with neater handwriting – or a better head for names and numbers.

"Forty minutes before the next challenger. Are you sure that's enough time? We can push one of the later challenges to tomorrow. Give your team a few minutes of extra recovery between matches."

Archer shook his head. "You know why we can't." We need to keep it packed to the brim – every person in those seats is a potential hostage if the League tries to push things during business hours, so they need to stay filled.

His Gym team would just have to deal with the shorter rests.

"Of course, sir. End of the year rush, and all that." Another page turned. "On that note, your next opponent… Joanna Mako. Seventh badge, second time here. First was… three years ago, where she won at the first badge level."

Archer grunted for him to continue as they walked the Gym's service corridors. "…Nineteen, got her license through the standard test at eleven. Used a rattata and female nidoran when she was here last."

Like ninety-nine percent of his repeat challengers, the name failed to elicit any recognition. "I'll prepare for a nidoqueen, then." A few more steps, and they came up to a semi-hidden door – not properly concealed, since the stadium had been built in full obedience with the municipal fire codes, but flush with the wall in such a way that it was obviously not for public use. "Please make sure I'm provided a butterfree with Psychic."

It was a nonsense statement – they all had Psychic – but Hagegeki took the dismissal for what it was. He stepped away, allowing Archer to exit into the public area of the Gym alone.

A brief journey along which he felt eyes digging into him from every shadow, and then he was inside the VIP box. The door closed behind him, and Archer let out a silent sigh of relief as he saw two of his main supporters – friends, even, if such a relationship could exist among men like them – bickering like schoolchildren.

"Giorgio," he greeted. "Garcia. You two seem lively enough today – how have you enjoyed the battles?"

"You're a disgrace to the title of Gym Leader," the head of the Sampo crime family replied. "Guillotine, in an elite match? They should have you put in with the laundry; you obviously need a thorough wash."

Ah, drunk already? Archer rolled his eyes inside his helmet, then pulled the stuffy thing off to let his sweat-damp teal hair breathe a bit. "And I suppose you could have done better?"

The man snorted, taking a long drink of genuine Stadabora Brixswein, and so the other Viridian native answered in his stead. "Of course not," said Junior Executive Garcia Sato. "Everyone loves Guillotine – you have a crowd to play to, after all."

The subtle way that the Executive agreed with his friend made Archer's lips quirk. "Indeed. It also distracted my opponent quite thoroughly as I set up Double Team." He found his own chair – and bottle – and settled in.

For a brief moment, no longer than a breath, the Rocket Boss simply looked at the two men who had come to support him. Both of them wore their years poorly; Garcia was thirty-five but looked a decade older, while Giorgio was nearly fifty but looked closer to seventy.

Part of it was natural; both men had hair colours that looked aged – grey and white, respectively. But that alone could not account for it.

Garcia's face was weathered, his skin more like old leather than anything a man in his thirties should have sported – and Giorgio was even worse. The patriarch boasted a number of discoloured patches across his face, the darkened, near-purple skin competing for space with the smaller but more numerous deep wrinkles. Only his eyes seemed to have any vitality, a bright grey that shone even in the shaded viewing room.

It was a stark transformation from the man Archer had met in 1990, at the height of the war and a year before the birth of his son – the young man Archer had chosen as his successor, then sent off to be a pawn of the two overly-zealous fey creatures who were Team Rocket's most loyal soldiers. I haven't the vaguest idea how they've avoided time's march; even I feel the stress of it, these days.

Arcus, I hope
I don't look like Giorgio in ten years…

Then Archer let the moment pass, the weight of his ambitions again settling around his neck. "The crowd isn't all I have to play to."

Two solemn nods. "Fancy a battle later, then?" Garcia asked. "To take the edge off."

'Are we expecting them to attack tonight,' was what he was really asking. "Apologies," Archer answered. "But I'll have to decline. While my personal team should be fresh, I will likely be completely wiped."

Giorgio raised his bottle. "The blasted rush."

"Blasted is one word for it, yes."

While it was merely coded language, there was a touch of genuine exasperation to his words; the Nationals were coming up, and a part of him just couldn't help but fret about the logistics of it, despite knowing it wouldn't be his problem any longer. They clinked their drinks, and Archer took a long, sweet gulp. Amazing what those primitive northerners can do to grapes. Almost as good as Kalosian, and at a tenth the price.

The toast ended, and Archer stood. "Going so soon?" Garcia remarked, his cheeks showing just a hint of blush. "Today will be long."

The Gym Leader nodded, returning his helmet to his head. "It will be. But that is the job."

He left, not looking back as the conversation started up again behind him. This is my last day as Viridian City's Gym Leader, came an introspective thought as he returned to the employee tunnels. It was not quite morose, but he was already feeling the sting of it. Four years of constant work. Four years of pouring every waking moment into both the Gym, and my own Pokémon. And, of course, Team Rocket.

His lips again curved up, though the expression was not happy. Tomorrow, everything is turned on its head. What is it that Jessie and James are always singing? Team Rocket blast off… "At the speed of light," he murmured in-time with the music in his head, voice coming back to him inside the thick helmet to create a one-person duet. "Surrender now, or prepare to fight…"







Koga felt, more than heard, the man pass below him. For a moment the urge to simply end it was overwhelming – but then the adrenaline roaring in his veins froze over, stillness replacing motion.

No, not quite yet. It needed to be public – not as assassination, but an arrest. A Gym Leader was simply too respected a position to disappear, and Indigo needed a PR win right now.

Besides… He was in full armour, and Koga had been retired for years. It was quite possible he'd miss a vital area, in which case things would get… messy.

And a Fuchsia shinobi always keeps it clean, he thought, the truism bringing a mirthless smile to his face beneath his cloth mask. Better to wait for the Provincial Ministry to get its ducks in a row, and the Elite Four in place. Tomorrow, everything is set right, he promised to himself as his heart was once again allowed to beat. Team Rocket will be pulled up, root and stem – no matter how many thorns abjure our hands.
 
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Well you see Archer, you already know why time hasn't touched Jessie and James; they are fey creatures.

Also, Merry Christmas!
 
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