T-Minus 1 month and 3 weeks?

  Kane cracked an eye open at the diligent youngsters throwing their limbs around as if that would add extra power to their pokémon's attacks. It was in the middle of scenic nowhere, trees all around like the rest of southern Hoenn. He'd said it before and he'd say it again: seen one beach, seen 'em all. Seen one planet thriving with life and the rest would be blue and green and white all over.

  Heat made the whole thing worse, one of the only distinct qualities of a place. Some people had some silly ideas like ditching his coat so he could enjoy being at a nice temperature. Then he'd be wearing a fedora without a trenchcoat, a cardinal sin that couldn't be entertained.

  A brush against his forearm grabbed his attention. His attention wasn't locked onto the fight. Instead he was entranced at the variety of birds that hardly coexisted in the forest together, squabbling at each other over territory or whatever it was that birds would have reason to go to war for. The poking at his forearm got more intense. Neither of the kids were looking over to him. A Pidove of all pokémon was up there, getting into a furious dogfight with a Fearow. Both circled around each other with their beaks nipping at each other's tail feathers. When first blood was drawn by a red feather getting yanked by Pidove's beak, they backed off and started firing gusts of wind at each other.

  "Status report?" he asked.

  Lulu huffed, crossing her arms and making vague head gestures. Hiding in the grass would be easy for a grass type that didn't have bright pink and white as their primary colors. As it was, she crouched underneath a large root that made an arch in the ground, well out of sight from anything that would blow her cover. She didn't like being belly down in soil though. A common misconception was that all grass-types liked every part of being a plant. She certainly liked her vibrant coat being visible rather than coated in grime and she definitely wanted to be heard in her trainer's language instead of having to make vague gesticulations when he didn't even bother looking back. She heard that certain psychic-types could speak telepathically in the human's language, or use their psychic power to yank on their trainer's ear from a distance. Such an ability made her swoon, wondering about the what-ifs.

  "Hmm mmm. I see. So we're safe for now."

  Lurantis' eyelids drooped. She gave his arm a tiny nick in protest.

  "Did you say something, Kane?" May asked.

  "I know! She's cheating pretty horribly," Brendan said.

  May whirled around, aghast. "What? I am not cheating!"

  "Then how is your pokémon doing stuff without you commanding it?"

  That was because May and her Mudkip hadn't properly connected yet. His stoic, headstrong personality refused to be commanded by the bubbly, spontaneous trainer who preferred to play battles by ear. None of that registered in May's mind yet, as only good trainers could intuit exact sources of friction in their teams.

  "I don't know but it isn't cheating!" May said, sticking her tongue out for good measure. "Maybe that shows how close me and Mudkip are compared to your pokémon!"

  As the kids traded moves for poorly worded barbs, Kane rubbed the eraser size cut on his elbow and glared. Lurantis was entirely unapologetic.

  "Fine. I'm actually listening. Are there a lot of trainers on the route ahead?"

  Lurantis shook her head.

  "Is there a Seedot who's willing to come along with us?"

  Lurantis nodded.

  Kane said, "go and train the Seedot in the woods until you think he's ready for actual combat. Whatever the case, be in Rustboro in two days. We'll meet at the coastline. D'accord? Oh, and Rustboro's up north from this town, past the forest. Can't miss it! Don't worry about me. These two can handle any problem that comes up, probably."

  Treecko leapt over the stream of water that wouldn't have done any damage anyways. Energy already started gathering in his hand that would've slammed into Mudkip's head if the pokémon didn't leap to the side. The attack slammed all the way into the ground, getting his hand stuck in the mud for a crucial moment.

  Just as Treecko got his hand dislodged, another squirt made him stumble backwards blindly. A tangle of grass caught on his foot. Mudkip took the opportunity to leap onto Treecko and start banging his head against the flailing pokémon. Instinctually, Treecko's limbs started pounding against the thick skin of the aggressor. Both trainers were trying to give better commands that would wrap up the fight. Both were ignored as their pokémon were too distracted by the threat in front of them.

  Lurantis tilted her head at her trainer, who continued staring at the sky. He wasn't being entirely truthful—Cottonnee was stuffed deeper in his coat for that reason—but confidence in both his belief and the trainers he was traveling with made him feel safe. Because it was such a leap of faith to believe that the two could fight off a Pidgey or two, pah.

  She had enough loyalty in her trainer to give a sharp salute and scurry back into the underbrush.

  Treecko ended up losing the endurance contest. May stuck her fist up in the air as if any of that was due to her training. The water gun accuracy training hadn't ended up mattering in the end while Treecko's agility training ended up leaving his strength at the level where it couldn't pierce past bulky pokémon's hides. "What does it matter if you just don't get hit?" Brendan had thought—"and who wins if one pokémon can't actually damage the other?" Kane sardonically muttered as he remained aloof. Helping two trainers when he'd already given them a boost by pairing them together felt like cheating.

  It had been a week since they left their hometown and they hadn't even made it back to Petalburg. All that time was spent scanning pokémon with their pokédexes and going through intense training sessions, and getting lost in detours. It had been enough time for the pokémon to learn some moves and get more used to their trainer's commands, though the ground covered made him feel a little nervous. Time seemed to be experienced all at once as he worried if they could really make it to the end with how weak they currently were; being around ace trainers had altered his perspective a little more than he even realized.

  Their pokémon were healed and recalled. The only positive was that since their pokémon were so weak, it was hard to give any grievous injuries that required the pokémon center. That meant the few steps that they traveled everyday were permanent progress. It would drive lesser men insane if they could only pass three unfamiliar trees before being forced to walk all the way back to the pokémon center everyday, and Kane considered himself a lesser man.

  "How was the fight? Do you think we can take on Roxanne?" May asked, puffing out her chest.

  Brendan was much less enthused but he still focused on Kane's opinion.

  Kane laughed, smacking his knee for emphasis. "What'd I tell you, gov'na? I ain't a trainer! It looks to me that you've progressed real nicely though, so I'd bet you got the fight in the bag."

  "Really?" May asked.

  "Really really! Especially since both of you have type advantage, I think this is going to be a breeze," Kane said. He waggled his finger as both the kids looked as if they'd been given a free master ball. "Remember that you're not always going to have type advantage though! This battle may be easy but you've got to be prepared for the ones that won't be. You're gonna have to deal with the electric gym before you know it! Catch more pokémon!"

  May stubbornly crossed her arms. "I'm not going to catch more pokémon until I'm sure that I can give them the same amount of love as I do with Mudkip!"

  The finger shifted to Brendan, who was rubbing his arm. "The fourth gym is going to be the fire gym. Are you sure that you're prepared for that?"

  "That's a while away though, and none of the pokémon have really stuck out to me," Brendan said.

  "It's never too early to start training more pokémon. It'll be better for them to have a month of experience going into a fight rather than a week. You guys said that we're blowing through this League in two months, right? You've already spent a week training! We're not even near Rustboro!"

  That got both of them to grimace. Traveling to Rustboro was going to take at least a day as the most optimistic guess, and there was no telling how many interruptions they'd get involved in on the way.

  May finally had enough. Her finger inched closer to his until they were sharing electrical currents.

  "Hey! I don't remember you being a coach, Mr. Gov'na guy!" May yelled.

  "He's right though. Two months for the whole League is unrealistic, but I still want to make it to my dad within that time. We need to start hurrying. Which means that we need to balance training, scanning pokémon for the dex, catching new pokémon, training up those new pokémon, walking, all the traveling that we'll need to do, and, and, and—!" Brendan managed to look completely panicked without having much change than his tone. "There's too much to do! Why'd you challenge my dad like that? Now he's going to be expecting us and we're not going to make it!"

  May and Kane looked between each other, trying to pin the blame on the other without outright saying it. Their head nudges and elbow bumps didn't actually communicate anything other than a prepubescent awkwardness that lacked the tools to convey real thoughts. It became a game of chicken, both sides unwilling to give ground until the other became tired of it, which in itself was a losing battle because one person had the endurance to wait inside a freezing cavern until he was sick.

  May bounded over with her arms flailing around. It was an attempt to look cute but Kane thought she looked like a headless chicken. She kneeled next to her friend and patted him on the back forcefully.

  "C'mon, we've still got this! What'd you say? That it was useless to give up at the start or whatever? This is still the beginning. We've still nearly got two entire months!" May said.

  "Minus one week," Brendan mumbled.

  "Minus one week that we used well. Get up. Aren't you wasting time sitting around here? What would your dad say if he saw you moping like this?"

  That made Brendan snap his head up, focusing on a scene that he was imagining. He got up. "He would probably say that he didn't expect me to make it in that time anyways."

  "Which we want to prove wrong! So up, up, up! Let's go!" May started dragging him down the path before screeching to a halt. "So where are we going? Rustboro? It's the other way."

  "That it is. And, lucky for the two of you, I'm prepared. I happen to know of a shortcut that'll take us there in less than a day," Kane said with a wink.

  Brendan blinked, hesitantly speaking as he didn't want to offend the boy. "I thought that you were from out of the region? How do you know about shortcuts?"

  A map came from the trenchcoat, unfolding to reveal Hoenn scarred with markers tracing lines between lines, circles at important points and abbreviated notes only the author could decipher. Kane pointed out a red line that erupted from the route they were on, passing by a series of angry yellow circles each with 'AVOID' underlined multiple times.

  "There's a hiking route that people like to take if they have a weekend off. It's a pretty relaxed route and the worst thing that could happen is running into a Swellow. They're not very territorial though and only bother with small prey, so we shouldn't have to worry unless we go out of our way to piss 'em off," Kane said.

  "I dunno. I think that you'd be a pretty good snack for them. They could probably swallow you in one bite," May said.

  Kane made exaggerated movements with his head to show that she only had a single inch on him, raising an eyebrow in challenge.

  Brendan didn't sense the sparring and talked over May. "Where'd you get this map?"

  Where'd he get it indeed? It was during a time when they weren't paying attention to him, too busy training their pokémon with tentative commands. Neither seemed to care about the third wheel in their party who was yawning against a tree. Sitting still was anathema to him. So he walked away when both their backs were turned, barely a warning left behind as the two were fighting their hearts out. Dinner was usually served at around eight o' clock, so he had plenty of time to advertise.

  The locals were so content in their knowledge of pokémon that convincing them of the utility of the dex was the first hurdle he couldn't cross. Door to door marketing got him in more conversations about the fair weather than pokémon. Insanity was defined as expecting a different result when doing the same thing, so he decided to make himself uninsane and adapt to reality.

  The door opened. The beige shirt the man wore accentuated his beer belly.

  "Good day, sir. I'm here with an invention that'll make you closer with pokémon than ever before," he said.

  "Nah, I don't want any pokésnax," the man said.

  The door shut.

  The door opened. The matronly woman only had wrinkles around her eyes, though the feeble posture she had suggested a much more advanced age.

  "Good day, ma'am. Have you ever had any worries dealing with a new pokémon? That you wouldn't feed them right, or you'd accidentally offend them, or that there were unfamiliar tracks outside?" he asked.

  "Not at all! I was actually a ranger in my youth and I learned all there is to know about pokémon. You see, there's a trick in dealing with them: typings. Typings are a great starting point in learning how to deal with a certain species since dominant traits come from how their typings interact with each other."

  "So you're saying that you've never had trouble with pokémon before?"

  "Nothing that I couldn't solve myself," she said.

  "But what if you could have a machine that would supplement all the knowledge that you've already learned?" he asked.

  She laughed. "I don't deal with pokémon anymore. All I have is my loyal Snubull and that's enough for me. Thanks for offering though."

  The door closed.

  The door opened.

  He had a new plan: slide into the house and demonstrate its capabilities. The beanpole man leaned over his shoulder as the pokédex scanned, taking its sweet time to draw information from the database.

  "What!? Mankey are nimble? There's no way! My Mankey has trouble getting out of bed in the morning."

  Kane looked over to the man's pokémon who was watching television. Mankey were built like meatballs with limbs stuck on fuzzballs normally, but that particular specimen took the 'meatball' part a little too seriously. Its body had turned wide enough to take armrest to armrest, limbs puffed up to be about as big as a human's despite the normal weight (according to the dex) being around 62 pounds. The hand that scratched its stomach seemed to be too lethargic to dig in, ending up just brushing the hair a little.

  He stomped through the town with the rage of a salesman spurned. Every single pokédex was still in his coat, meaning that he wouldn't have to restock in Rustboro unlike what the original plan was. Stopping in front of the gym, he watched as a kid morosely dragged his feet from the front door. The scene was painted perfectly: down on his luck, a trainer was just kicked out as he got swept by the gym leader. The kid was the perfect target to sell a product to!

  "Hey, Kane!"

  …if it weren't for the nosy gym leader calling for him. With the kid's outfit burned into his long-term memory, Kane went over to the adult who was beckoning him. Norman hadn't changed at all in the short time that they were apart and he doubted that Norman ever deviated from his routine unless there was good reason to. The man's closet had ten pairs of the same exact pants and shirts, down to the brand.

  Norman nodded to him in greeting. "It's good to see you again. Where's Brendan?"

  "Down on the route training. I got bored waiting around so I came here to try and sell pokédexes." He drew back his coat to show the full stock. "As you can see, I'm having a little trouble."

  "That's Hoenn tradition for you. It hurts people's pride when you suggest that they need a machine to do what a person already is doing," Norman said with a laugh.

  The word 'tradition' made Kane twitch. Fairies, it was all about the fairies. With it came other memories unbidden: the entire good-for-nothing police force probably eating donuts instead of hunting down the base that laid under their feet, official-looking people who only had their titles to fall back on, and radiance that made him cut off the stream of memories. Kane remembered an old man who was peeking into the gym, probably one of the stooges who refused the new typings, and he could only hope the old man had some class and was only staring at the older women. Words became entangled with meanings and Kane hoped he wouldn't eventually get an aneurysm from the forbidden word: tradition. Tradition.

  His conscience was too busy twisting into knots to have a witty response. "Hopefully the bigger cities will be more receptive to it. Anyways, can I ask a favor? Could you give me a list of the backroads that you know of?"

  A map of the region was pulled out of his coat. It came at an entirely unreasonable price from the first tourist shop that he found, though he already knew that it was going to be invaluable. Despite one of the shortcuts nearly killing him back in Kanto, it shaved off enough time to be worth it. And he met Green, jury still pending on whether that was a good thing or not.

  A marker came out of the coat. He pressed the map against the gym's wall so he could draw on it. Norman didn't even hesitate as his finger laid down all the paths that he knew of, which ended up being all the way up to back roads around Lavaridge Town.

  "Don't even think about going down those places until all of you are stronger. Shade that entire area in. That's where dragon specialists train. You don't want to get caught out there, would you?"

  It ended up being an entire area around the mountain that was 'too dangerous' for new trainers. Kane would normally have a witty comeback if the memories of beaks trying to tear his eyes out wasn't so prominent.

  "I hear you. I'll make sure they don't go wandering. Don't want them to be some fire-type's lunch," Kane said.

  "Thank you. I'm sure that Brendan has enough sense to not do something that hasty, but I'm not sure if his head is right on when he's traveling with a girl. Might want to impress her or something," Norman said.

  An epiphany struck Norman. He realized that the person who he was relying on was around the same age and also a boy. His stare bore into Kane.

  "I think he's too meek to do whatever you're imagining, but I'll make sure. I think that you're not giving him enough credit too; he's already strong enough to deal with the first gym," Kane said.

  "Really?"

  "Yeah." Kane glanced behind himself. "Anyways, I should run back before they notice that I'm gone. Thanks for this! You'll see your son challenging you within two months or your money back. I guarantee it."

  "Then I'll look forward to it. Oh! One last thing. We actually got a message from Kanto specifically asking for you, believe it or not, though they misspelled your name. The sender didn't seem to know how to operate international messaging, so we just passed it around the people who'd be most likely to see you." He bowed his head a little. Hands fiddling around would betray how bad he felt over the whole thing, so he made an effort to have them remain crossed. "If I'm being honest, I feel bad for her. It was received by a few League offices over on the other side of the island, and it's definitely not something that I'd want to be read by somebody else."

  "Embarrassing?" Kane asked.

  Norman just shook his head. It wasn't meant to be negative. "It's better if you see for yourself."

  Out came a plain gray phone. Kane looked at the text in wonder.

  "Greetings, Hoenn. This is Erika Celadon from Kanto, the leader of the grass gym. I currently have an employee working inside the region who's trying to catch Hoenn-based pokémon so that we can increase the diversity of my gym. This is intended for my employee, Lane Rand.

  The text past this line of I's is meant for him. Please do not read it.

  IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

  Good day, Lane. Or would it be night where you are? I'm not sure how much time it takes these messages to travel. I know that it's instant in between Kanto, but this may take some time to reach you. It's currently 9 AM when I'm writing this. Yoko insists that we do constant updates to make sure that you're not slacking off, so this is meant to be my attempt to uphold my side of the bargain. While you did not seem the most diligent during the short times that we worked together, I have enough faith that you can carry out a job to its conclusion. Don't ask what gives me this feeling. I'm sure that any reasoning I could give you would find silly.

  Over here there's still a frenzy that has overtaken the region. But now that we have you, I can't help but feel as though this is rather the nervous excitement of a new era rather than the dying gasps of an old one. Apologies for the rather macabre comparison, but if I were to compare it, I'd attempt so by saying that the former is of a greater future for Kanto rather than it being snuffed out. That's what we're attempting here. You would easily find people more invested in Kanto's existence than I am yet I believe it to be a misattribution to say that I'm bereft of the feelings. I love my home. I love my family. What you started sounds as though it can only make everything better. Speaking on the matter, do fairy-types have a preferred typing other than themselves in the same way that there are so many poison/grass types? You need not answer as this is just passing curiosity.

  Yoko proofread my letter and said that I'd forgotten the purpose of writing in the first place. Silly me. How is your stay in Hoenn? I've heard little of the region. It's supposed to be of great climate, a friendly people, a temperate wilderness. My father has always been interested in the intricacies of dance (even though he has the feet of a Psyduck!) and so he's always been quick to dismiss Hoenn. Something about their traditional, nor modern, dances not properly expressing the whole body.

  This is Yoko. Since Erika seems incapable of asking for a prompt report, I've added my own section. Please give us a status report on the pokémon that you've received or are about to receive. Thank you.

  Best Regards,

  Erika

  P.S. I'm so excited to have somebody that I know about actually traveling around a region! Please give me all the details that you can. I'd love to one day visit and would love to know the must-see landmarks. This is my first time sending a letter internationally, much less digitally, so please tell me about the experience of receiving one. I cannot lie and say that I'm not excited to be receiving one too."

  Kane slowly pulled himself away from the phone. He kept swiping up and down as if there'd be any line that forgave all of that.

  "And multiple offices got this?" Kane asked.

  "Yes." Norman felt as though he needed to justify himself even if the embarrassed person wasn't there. "We had this kind of thing happen all the time in Johto. It really isn't that uncommon back there."

  But it was in Hoenn, where a plague of second-hand embarrassment had stung. They didn't have much more to talk about so he just slunk back into the route.

  Kane hooking in an entire crowd of people was planned within the run. There were conspicuously absent holes in his inventory by the time that he rejoined the pair he was traveling with. Selling to the defeated kid had been pathetically easy. Then with the momentum built, he used the opening interest of people who saw the sale to build a narrative of the grand uses that the pokédex had. Throwing around the name of Kanto's new champion caught even more ears; news took a long time to travel between regions even with the invention of the internet, and Kane exploited that to tell personable stories about the champion Red, who defeated Team Rocket with the help of a single nifty device. Bulging pockets would answer anybody who questioned his ability to be a merchant. Technically he wasn't supposed to be selling them as it wasn't in the spirit of the agreement yet spirits didn't have law written down in permanent ink either.

  Not that any of this information was required for either of the kids to understand. He just grinned and answered in a way only he could.

  "That's for me to know and you to never find out."

  Brendan didn't groan in exasperation as he was too polite for that. Nothing prevented May from being rude enough for the both of them.

  The computer flickered to life. The weekly meetings of the gym leaders were counting one, two, three, five, seven. The eighth and ninth were twenty seconds late exactly. That was a tolerable time frame for Norman. Waiting for multiple minutes was beyond unprofessional when even the kids had grasped how to be on time for meetings.

  'New' could not be emphasized more when referring to the Hoenn League. He had barely moved into the region when they put him to work. Norman didn't mind being immediately immersed, though he was slightly annoyed at the greater implications that came with it. Two other gyms had leaders with less than a year of experience. Whatever happened in the area led to them barely being prepared for the next surge of trainers. It made him curious but he refrained from prying in respect to his position as the new guy who was more than double the age of the psychic gym's leaders.

  The first part of the meeting was going over both regional problems and problems that the specific gyms ran into. Requests for equipment or trainers, along with a new criminal group that had been sighted around the region were discussed in excruciating detail that left the younger leaders yawning. Norman could admit that even his attention drifted. Behind his computer the bare walls of his new house could only be seen by the others. Flannery was having the meeting in her room with a poster of Lisia plastered behind her, lending a comedic air when she was describing a robbery in detail underneath the idol's beaming smile. Wallace was having the meeting somewhere that had a view over the entire city, a strong wind sometimes tussling his hair. The rest had the decency to be present in the meetings somewhere professional; blank walls—that's what professional meant. Bookshelves were acceptable too, though nobody had them. A shame. Norman would have to gush about books outside of the gym leader circle.

  Norman couldn't wait for the monthly meeting that required them to be in person. At least that one would require Brawly to get dressed in something other than a pair of PJs with Makuhita on them.

  The second, and shorter, part of the meeting was much more informal than the first. Good battlers, pokémon, training tips, anything brought up during a time when anyone could leave if they needed to, but generally stuck around for the opportunity to let loose around people who understood the stresses of the job. Norman nodded to his wife who was at the door. The tea slid onto the table before she hurried out of the room. She still thought that the meetings were top secret no matter how many times Norman assured her they weren't.

  "I've heard that somebody's kid is going through the circuit right now," Winona said, smiling at the camera.

  "Really!? That's awesome!" Flannery yelled. All the enthusiasm dropped in a second. "Who?"

  "It ain't mine, if that's what you're all wondering. Wahaha!"

  He decided that letting the conversation develop wouldn't have been too amusing. "It's my child. Brendan is currently challenging the League, traveling alongside Professor Birch's child."

  That herded everyone's attention. The child of a gym leader was usually interesting. A famous professor's child turned heads. Both being together had the potential to be region-defining. With the experience of a professor and a gym leader behind them, they were known to always do good when going through the circuit alone.

  "Sounds interesting. They'd already be menaces by themselves. I can't wait for them to reach me," Wallace said. His voice was nearly drowned out by the swish and swoosh of the breeze.

  The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  "If I believe them, then the kids say that they're going to be at the end of the circuit within two months," Norman said. He cracked the first smile in the meeting at the range of shocked responses. "They're currently heading to Rustboro right now. Give them a harder fight if you could, Roxanne. I want to make sure that Brendan realizes what kind of promise he gave."

  "Are you sure? I can give them the normal challenge that I usually do," Roxanne said uneasily.

  "According to another kid who's traveling alongside them, they're ready to deal with you. I bet that they're relying on their type advantages, so I'd like to make sure that they're disabused of the notion that type decides a match early in their career," he said.

  Flannery nervously chuckled. "Normal-type dad is scary."

  "What kind of authority does this kid have over a gym leader's son and professor's daughter?" Brawly asked.

  Norman's smile flattened as he thought about those shoes which didn't wipe off at their welcome mat. "I'm not sure. He's a bit of a mystery. He claims that he's not a trainer yet he's given me hints that he is one. Don't misunderstand. I don't think that he's doing it out of ill will. There's certainly an odd circumstance behind him."

  The group relaxed with the clarification. The new criminal groups had everybody on edge. The activities of Team Rocket over in Kanto weren't widely known at that moment, but the hints of a criminal group that was involved across regions was enough to spark anxieties.

  "How do you know he's lying?" Brawly asked.

  "Three things: he was confident enough that Brendan and May, the professor's daughter, were strong enough to fight Roxanne," Norman said.

  "Sounds like the typical confidence that a young child has! Is he the same age as your kid? He's probably just trying to blow them up!" Wattson said.

  "That could well be the case. Many youthful trainers think they have the ability to see others' fighting styles before they've developed the ability to," Roxanne said.

  Norman conceded to those points. "Perhaps. He also wasn't afraid to take roads that weren't connected to routes. I know that back in Johto it's forbidden for anyone without a pokémon to travel outside the route, though it's not illegal per se, and I believe that Kanto has the same policy. I assume that it's the same here."

  "Not exactly. There're plenty of areas that are perfectly safe to go wandering outside the routes. Only northern routes are enforced against wandering and have rangers patrolling to make sure nobody leaves, but it isn't illegal," Wallace said.

  Flannery waved her hand around lazily. "So he's a little confident. No reason that he's not good with pokémon without being a trainer too. Or, hey! Maybe he's just overconfident in himself. Thinks that he's invincible. That's why he also gave his opinion on their battling abilities."

  "That's a worthy explanation too. If you read comments on trainer's videos, you will notice how many become experts in battling without ever interacting with pokémon outside the internet," Roxanne said.

  "Oh! A bunch of people totally are like that with us! They think that they can give us tips just 'cause we're young," Liza said.

  "Mm. All good explanations. He also works for Professor Oak," Norman said.

  Let it never be said that he doesn't have a sense of humor. The slight shiver of his grin was suppressed as the bombshell landed. All the easy explanations withered away. Working for the most popular professor in the known world made everyone reevaluate the kid, all without even knowing what he looked like. Roxanne looked like she had stars in her eyes and Wallace had sucked his lips shut.

  Flannery broke the silence. "Screw it. Looks like we're in it for the long haul. How about a few friendly bets between gym leaders?"

  Wattson laughed that strange laugh that made his belly convulse. "Wahaha! You always know how to spice up these meetings, Flannery! What do you have in mind?"

  "We're not supposed to be gambling as the moral centers of the region," Roxanna said tartly.

  "It's also been a while since we've had one. Might as well get the new leaders used to it," Brawly said, smiling.

  "Nobody has to know. 'Sides, it'll get us more invested in this. A professor's kid, a gym leader's kid, and an aide for Professor Oak all working together has prolly never happened before," Flannery easily dismissed. "Let's bet on how much time it takes Norman's kid to beat all the gym leaders and if this kid is a trainer or not. Ten thousand pokédollars for each, winner is who guesses both right, or gets it the most right. Norman's kid is gonna beat everyone, right? He's the son of a gym leader and traveling with a professor's kid. He's got it in the bag. Let's be positive and assume that'll happen. Two months and I don't think that this kid is a trainer."

  "Five months and the kid is not a trainer," Winona said. "You have to think about travel time. Most of the time in a journey is spent on distractions. While they say they'll go straight through the circuit now—ah! I can imagine the regret that I would've felt if I merely stuck to the main goal."

  "His name is Kane, the trainer. Two months and Kane is a trainer," Norman said.

  "Even you, Norman?" Roxanne groaned.

  Wallace smiled, a tiny thing that was almost mocking. "There's that love from a father, wanting to drag his son through the wringer yet believing that he'll do the best. Six months and Kane is not a trainer. I haven't met a kid who's traveling that correctly estimates their own experience. If he's confident enough to give advice, then it's because he vastly overestimates his own skill."

  "That was going to be mine!" Liza whined. "Poo! Fine! Three months and Kane is a trainer! He's fishy!"

  "You're complaining about stealing and then you steal from me," Tate said sourly. "Five months and Kane is a trainer."

  Brawly grinned at the camera. "Y'know what? I'll be the only one to say that it'll take over a year and this Kane will not be a trainer. I'm willing to be wrong, but if all of us are wrong? I'm taking home that payday."

  "Four months and Kane is a trainer," Wattson said.

  Roxanne put a hand against her forehead. "You are all incorrigible—but fine! I'll be the reasonable one and say that they will take seven months, the same amount of time that it took Steven to beat his gym circuit, and that Kane is a trainer."

  Flannery wrote all their names on a spreadsheet. Great blackmail material, if anyone ever got their hands on it.

  In the middle of the forest there was a trio of humans waddling around what was supposed to be a day-long path that turned into a winding bin of time where hours stuffed inside of hours until night fell early. Kane double-checked the time then the map then back to his pokédex's clock. Not helping was the same-y environment that blended into a mess of green and black camouflage the later that it got, making it impossible to distinguish where they came from.

  Went unsaid was that the trail had multiple routes with clearly defined names on signs staked into forks, with names cutely referencing the most common pokémon that would be found on route (most of which are no longer accurate). Fake paths had been carved by experienced hikers over the years, that hadn't gotten a name yet tangled together with the real paths without even a line sketched into the floor for posterity. By the time they had walked for thirty minutes without seeing a sign, they knew they were lost. The twilight area of existence: somewhere on a map yet without a name.

  Just a single line of marker represented the many points where they could possibly be, though it was thick so that could mean they were still on path, and that's the lie that Kane kept repeating to himself. Rubbing in his stupidity was the complete lack of other people anywhere. No campers or hikers to be seen and definitely not any light or smoke from a campfire. The sky was full of stars being so far from any light pollution. As Kane believed, stars in one place were stars in another. No reason to get excited over something so static.

  "We're lost," Brendan said dully.

  They were on a slight incline that would've given a good view if there were a bit of light. None of the pokémon at their feet had great night vision either, bumping against their legs and tripping on roots.

  "We're lost," Kane agreed.

  "You admitted that pretty fast," May said.

  "I'm willing to admit when I've done an oopsie, gov'na."

  As usual there was a backup plan that was in effect. Around the second choice in divergent paths Kane realized that they were going to be lost, making him release Cottonee when he was supposed to be taking a pee break. It wasn't the most foolproof plan. Their line were known to be carefree, going along with the wind flow. At that moment Cottonee could've found the town and was being dragged into the ocean. They had done the very basics of training on how to fight against the wind, but he didn't expect the pokémon to be able to find them without some kind of flare.

  Brendan's face was scrunched in focus, making Kane grin in anticipation.

  "Do you have some kind of idea, hero?"

  It took Brendan a moment to remember that was his new nickname. "Please stop calling me that, but yeah. I have an idea. I was part of the Bayleef Recruits. It taught us everything about how to survive out in nature. It was supposed to get me prepared for my journey, but I never thought I'd have to use the stuff I learned there."

  "That's so cool! You know how to rough it out in the wild! I always wanted my dad to teach me stuff like that but he always made me learn boring stuff like pokémon biology," May said. Her fists pumped in anticipation to see the magic work.

  But Kane recognized the way that Brendan was grimacing—it was when you promised to be able to do something but actually had no clue how to do it. Brendan looked around as if his camp master was going to pop out of the night with a torch, map, and tour guide to take them by the hand and explore the region together.

  Brendan's eyes flitted to May's exuberance being caught short by shivers. Being out in the middle of the night, lost, seemed to make the night's chill a bit more bracing. He felt it too thanks to the short-sleeved vest.

  He walked up to a tree. A giant eye of blue pierced down through the thin layer of leaves, arcs of light dripping down through the thick layer of dust that was in the area. It revealed the carpet of moss that covered the tree from its highest branches to the exposed roots, so thick that your hand could sink into the fluff. Dots of black peppered it too which made Brendan wonder if moss went through the same process of rot that cheese did. Whatever method he used was going to be an approximation at best as though the moss preferred one side of the tree, it had grown around its girth in a great hug.

  "I think that this way is east," Brendan said, pointing away from the greatest concentration of the moss.

  "Can you give us an explanation, hero? Not doubting you! Just thinking that the moss didn't have a whole silent conversation with you," Kane said.

  "It's because the moss wants to grow where it's moist and dark. Since we're on an island, it'll probably grow where the wind and rain comes in from, so it'll be coming that way." He added a quick, "I think. It's called the Wingull Wind since that's what they use to cross the ocean."

  "That means all we have to do is walk that way and we'll make it to the route!" May said.

  "Let's not be so hasty," Kane interrupted. "Walking in the dark through a forest? That's dangerous. If we just start walking we'll be easy prey for any nocturnal predator that wants to make us its food. Let's stake camp out here tonight and then we'll just take the next path that goes down towards the ocean."

  Something ugly once again crawled out of Brendan's chest into his throat. It was a burning feeling that made him want to repent. This time he didn't fight against the feeling.

  "You don't think that I'm right, do you?" Brendan said.

  Kane shrugged, already starting to slump against a tree. "It's not that I don't trust you, hero, just have no reason to not play it safe. If you're wrong, then at least it'll be in the daytime when we can see something we should avoid. Besides, walking off route is stupid in the first place."

  "Isn't that what you did?" May asked, getting angry herself.

  "This was different! At least we're still somewhere that humans have been before, meaning this place is at least somewhat safe. Walking off path is asking for trouble. I should know," Kane said. His eyes drooped closed. "Leave it for the morning. We can find somewhere where the sun is visible and see if Brendan was right."

  Brendan glanced between the two of them, gaze hardening as his mind became steeled.

  "No, we're not going to do that. We're the trainers here and we both know what we're talking about. Why are you even bossing us around when you're the one that got us in this mess?"

  "Yeah! We're trying to fix what you did!" May agreed. Mudkip seemed to be bewildered that things even got this far, tugging at his trainer's pant legs, increasingly desperate.

  When it was obvious that Kane wasn't going to open his eyes, only one path became clear. The first foot that stepped off the clear dirt crunched underneath the layers of leaves that stubbornly refused to decompose. Treecko took the charge as he was the most comfortable stepping into his stomping ground. Dead fauna mixed with moist dirt was what his feet were made for. The increasingly uncertain footsteps of the trainers followed right behind, with Mudkip feeling as if he was marching into enemy territory.

  The dark seemed to close in even further. Whether it was due to them being down a person or carving their own route, they couldn't say. Bushes that once seemed so obvious now would suddenly pop into existence, Treecko doing his best to guide them through the path of least resistance normally prevailed, but he couldn't account for every branch that his taller trainers would walk into. The kids would sometimes be smacked in the face by a sudden sassy tree or accosted by leaves that would stick down their collars with firm grips.

  Walking without the assurance of thousands of previous hikes seemed like a bad idea ten minutes in. They didn't even think of walking back when there was a howl in the distance, or a bug's fluttering wings that would zoom behind them. Landmarks couldn't be seen. At some point the ground flattened as they left the light incline of the area before. Even if they did want to go back, it wasn't likely that they'd find Kane. Yawns were suppressed. They didn't seem so tired when they were angrier.

  A yelp from behind Brendan made him whip around, a command to Treecko at the tip of his tongue. Even with his eyes fully adjusted to the dark he couldn't see anything.

  "May! Are you okay?" he yelled.

  There was the sound of a struggle. "I'm fine! I just tripped into this hole."

  Brendan cautiously walked forwards until a tiny hand stopped him. Calling the tiny niche dug into the ground a hole was generous. Barely deep enough to bury a time capsule, it was wide enough that May's entire body nearly fit in it with her feet kicked up slightly higher. The real problem was the numerous plants that had grown over it. May had somehow missed all the bushes that would most likely have supported her weight, and were now keeping her locked down into the ground.

  "C-Can you stop staring and help?" May shouted.

  Pulling all the plants aside gave her the leeway needed to pick herself up, the pokémon doing their best by pulling aside single branches. The exact details were lost, though her body fading into the background was indication in itself of how much mud clung to her body. Patting down her clothes didn't get any of it out, making her whine.

  "This is why my dad told me to pack extra clothes," she said. The tone was intended to be light even if it came out strained.

  He still managed to laugh. "Yeah. I've only got one pair in here 'cause my parents wouldn't let me leave without them. Never thought that we'd be doing something like this."

  "Same here," she said.

  Forgetting momentarily where they were, they stood around without doing anything for a moment.

  "Do you hear that?" May asked.

  He held his ear up to the air. Crunching. Thumping. Treecko hissed towards the treeline while Mudkip held his flippers up like a boxer. Eventually they were so persistent and loud that it'd take a deaf person to be unaware. The kids turned to where they came from—the thumps of something heavy and the crunches of tree branches being torn out. Nothing was visible for the longest time. The jackhammer continued.

  Its figure was pieced together by the varying colors that it blocked. In the pure darkness, colors faded into varying shades of black and gray. Through these being overshadowed they could see an image lumbering forwards, each step causing its hulking figure sway to one side. Only when it was a breath away did they clearly see its lazy eyes and bulging belly. It was a behemoth that could step on them without even knowing it. Each muscle group on its arm had more power than the entire group's whole bodies. Instinctive fears whirred to life instead of defiance, and Treecko would kill anybody who suggested that a tear slipped out at that moment. Brendan would be too embarrassed to admit that he nearly peed.

  May was the only one who moved. It came up by instinct.

  The machine beeped when it downloaded the data.

  "Slaking, the world's laziest pokémon. If it eats all the grass within reach, it moves to another spot."

  They glanced around at the area they were standing in. With a little renovation, the clearing would be large enough for the pokémon to lay inside. They started backing up without a word. Treecko got the message and followed them. Nobody wanted to take their eyes from the hulking beast.

  Mudkip didn't get the memo. Water soaked the monster's leg thoroughly. Slaking didn't even look at the pitiful stream as it backhanded the source.

  The kids screamed. Mudkip's shattered body was recalled, the only stop as they ran screaming. If they actually checked then they would've seen the Slaking only cared about having the first snack of the night

  Their panic didn't bother keeping track of the direction they headed in. Even the path of least resistance was forgotten as the priority became keeping as much space between them and the monster. Scratches tore on their arms and legs. Leaves got caught in May's hair while Brendan had his pants get a few tears from obstinate weapons that wouldn't get out of the way. The desperate sprint had fueled itself entirely on adrenaline and found itself lacking once those little crystals traveled into the backroads of the body. It stopped when May coughed, nearly bowling over. Both were left heaving on their knees. Brendan leaned against a tree. Clouded by fear and exhaustion, foggy eyes took stock of the situation. Treecko was keeping watch from any more aggressive pokémon. May was hacking a lung out. None of the trees in sight had moss on them, Brendan noted.

  May staggered to her feet. It wasn't as if she had a better grip on the horizon than her friend as she nearly tripped on her own feet like a drunk. An unladylike drip of drool fell to the ground. Being more in-shape than urbanites didn't make them fit enough to finish a day of hiking off with a sprint, a fact driven home when Brendan fell back onto his butt after releasing the tree.

  "Is—" Brendan gulped in another gasp of air before speaking again. "Is it following us?"

  Treecko shook his head. He walked in a perimeter to make sure that no other pokémon were around.

  "That's good," Brendan said.

  May bent down to pick up the pokéball. Thick lines of sweat clung to its shiny surface.

  A sob broke the atmosphere and all that Brendan wanted at that moment was to be anywhere else. Treecko agreed with his trainer, though he at least pretended that the mass of green and black was more interesting.

  "I'm fine. I'm fine," she repeated. The back of her arm wiped her eyes. Another sob broke out that interrupted her sentence. "Where do—do we go now? I lost track of which way was which."

  Brendan didn't know but that was fine. He would prefer admitting to being lost than dealing with a crying girl.

  "I did too. Right now we should focus on finding some kind of shelter. It's not—"

  Treecko peeking up into the dark made him stand at attention. Still edgy from the last encounter, May scrambled to stand behind the pokémon.

  It was silent for a second. A click of a tongue. The figure stepped forwards.

  "You kids look like you're having a rough go of it," the man said. He was in a hoodie, most details obscured as he refused to get too near. The horns and giant 'M' on his chest were unmistakable however, though Brendan personally thought that they looked a bit like pajamas. "Mind if I help you out?"

  Brendan immediately relaxed upon seeing another person. "Thank goodness we saw you. We've been lost in the forest for hours!"

  She was much less forgiving. There was something aggressive in his voice that she didn't trust, though she could admit that it was due to the paranoia riding high from the Slaking.

  "Where are we? We've been walking around for a long time so I doubt we're on Route 104," Brendan continued without realizing May was creeping backwards.

  The man gave an incredulous laugh. "You kids have gone a long way off track. Nobody would know you're out here."

  "What's your name?" May asked. Her eyes trailed down. His hand was angled slightly so that it reached behind his back. The pose sent alarm bells in her mind.

  "You're a little aways from Rustboro. Just take it down a little thataways and you'll be there. I can lead you down there if you want," the man said.

  Brendan sagged in relief. At some point the stubbornness wore off enough for him to realize maybe it was a bad idea walking into the middle of a forest at night. "Yes! Yes. We will. We're coming. We're coming along."

  "Maybe you should give your Treecko a rest? It's pretty safe on this side of the forest. You won't be attacked by anything out there and I'm sure he's feeling the burn from a run like that."

  Though Treecko protested, he couldn't disagree. Whatever edge he had on the kids had worn away from the natural difference in leg-length. Getting into a fight at that moment would most likely lead to their loss anyways. A red arc absorbed the pokémon.

  The pokéball withdrew from the man's back in an utterly predictable manner. Still, neither the kids reacted even when the Poochyena was sent out. It growled, dropping down to its front paws. There was a distinct lack of fear in the night and, if anything, the kids felt more assured that the man could protect them with such a strong pokémon. He struck a pose. His elbow raised to the air and face turned into the meanest scowl he could manage. He dropped it and smashed the pokéball into the palm of his other hand. He pointed.

  He nearly threw down the pokéball in frustration.

  "For the love of—I'm robbing you! Drop all your stuff!"

  May dramatically jumped back onto one foot, crossing her arms around herself. "Why is there a thief this far out!? I wanted you to be nice but of course somebody with a fashion sense like yours is evil."

  He pinched the jacket's clothing. "This? It's—"

  "And you have such an ugly face that it looked like it got punched in by a Slaking!"

  "Hey now…"

  "Your voice definitely sounds like a bad guy's," Brendan joined in.

  "I have a girlfriend!" he finally yelled. Poochyena had given up on being aggressive and was staring at his trainer with a tilted head.

  "Not even a wife at your age?" May asked.

  "We've been together for three years and she thinks that my voice is—"

  Brendan held his hands over his ears as he definitely didn't want to know what adults thought of each other. The few times that he'd caught such talk in those heavy voices—blegh! Every now and then those memories would rise unbidden, triggering his gag reflex. Girls didn't have cooties. Guys and girls mixed together made cooties. It was chemistry. He was going to skip that when he went back to school.

  May heard it all. It wasn't anything new to her.

  The guy eventually recognized that they weren't convinced. "Whatever! Why am I justifying myself to you? Drop all your stuff real slow like in front of Poochyena. Don't even think about doing something funny."

  Brendan recognized the feeling that was welling up and didn't fight against it. Defiant against being ordered around by a lowlife in the middle of a forest, like bile it worked through his throat until his entire mouth was coated in it. Ideas sprung. They weren't great ideas. They were ideas borne of desperation, a tired mind that couldn't rein in the darker side. So he held his hand out to May.

  "Give me your stuff. We'll have to give it all up. There's no choice," Brendan said.

  Without even a grumble, May handed over her bag. He hefted it around as if there was a lot inside. The man rubbed his palms together as they neared. The steps were softened by the dew that was gathering on the grass. Each breath was measured. All that he could muster up was gathered just an inch away from the man's fingers brushing against May's bag. His leg raising wasn't even registered as a threat in either of the villain's minds. It reminded May of the experiment that her father showed her, where the iron ball would stop just at the point of where it was let go. Instead of a cool physics demonstration, the hound's nose was punted into the air.

  His pokémon was whimpering, skittering away until it was behind his trainer. The man was so shocked that he didn't immediately respond, giving Brendan the chance to turn tail. Thankfully they'd been given at least a little break or else they would've collapsed after the first second. May allowed herself to be dragged along when he grabbed her hand, disappearing into the general direction that the man said Rustboro was.

  It took a crucial moment for the man to recover from his shock, another to debate whether to give chase himself or look after his pokémon, then another to actually lean down to his whimpering pup. The pokémon's fur was barely even disturbed. Its cowardly nature turned against it from the tap.

  "Come on, Poochyena! We've got to go! They're going to get away!"

  Green missiles erupted from the dark. The man was knocked onto his butt from the first barrage while Poochyena suffered through the entire attack. It howled in pain, ducking low to the ground, not knowing that it became easier to hit. Treecko flew from the treeline with the last bit of energy left in it. No fancy moves or maneuvers were behind the solid punch that flipped Poochyena onto its back. The man shuffled away as his fainted pokémon landed next to his feet, two kids approaching with their arms crossed.

  The man beat a hand against the ground. "You're a cheat! You're not supposed to hit a pokémon! That's something only villains do!"

  "Who are we talking to exactly?" May asked, exasperated. "And that's not really correct either. Aggressive pokémon are absolutely liable to be attacked, which your Poochyena would fall under since you were trying to use him against unarmed people during a robbery. The rules about attacking pokémon are already lax since there's a bunch of situations where you need to protect yourself. My dad doesn't let me work with them a lot, but the lab pokémon can easily hurt me, and there was one time when I needed to tackle a small Treecko because it was throwing moves around the lab. I felt so bad! It was so cute."

  "They're also a gray area once any pokémon has been drawn explicitly for battle. During a fight nearly all injuries are absolved since there's not a great way to prove that any injury was done maliciously. Even serious injuries aren't always blamed on the other trainer and could be pinned on anybody's head. Heck, my dad once blamed a challenger for getting his pokémon hurt because the kid pushed it too far. Basically it's your word against our words that I intentionally wanted to cause your pokémon undue harm," Brendan said.

  They locked eyes. That was the experience of having dads who were intimately familiar with the pokémon world talking. Some kind of camaraderie was forged.

  "When you say all that to justify your actions it makes you sound like psychopaths!" the man yelled.

  "Yeah, like you can say anything, buttface. Have fun out here being evil and ugly and without a pokémon," May said with a scoff.

  They walked away, Treecko giving one last dismissive snort before being sucked back into the pokéball. It took many steps before either of them felt safe enough to keep up the tense silence. Finally it came, heralded by their limbs sinking down until both were slumped inwards next to each other. Walking didn't feel real, nor did all the small aches that blended into a general not-good feeling.

  "I can't believe you kicked his Poochyena," she muttered. The first snort came silently, before erupting into full blown laughter. Shoulders undulating were all she could manage aside from a slight smile. "What were you thinking!?"

  "I don't know! It worked, didn't it?"

  "Yeah, but, but…"

  She couldn't finish the sentence because she started laughing again. When it was finished, she leaned her head back all the way it could until her neck was sore.

  "If our dads hear about us doing this, we're going to be in so much trouble," she said.

  "So we don't tell them," he said.

  "Yeah."

  Her fingers dug into the dirt. He pounded a fist against his aching leg.

  That ugly feeling hadn't disappeared. Deep inside his chest he could feel the scary pressure. Was he having a heart attack? What did a heart attack even feel like? Toxic, physical, and gnawing like it kept moving whenever he was almost used to it. Everything on that day seemed to want to prove him incompetent. For some reason, he didn't feel nearly as down as he normally would.

  One thing he wasn't going to screw up with was the girl who was having trouble getting to her feet. He picked himself up. A hand extended.

  "This night sucks. Wanna make it to Rustboro?"

  No hesitation. Their hands joined.

  "We haven't made enough bad decisions tonight. Let's do it!'

  Bleary figures greeted him as he opened his eyes. Blue shapes gathered together in a big enough clump that he couldn't see much distinction between them. The air fluttered with light calls between birds. Rubbing away the last layer of sleep from his eyes didn't help clarify the sight. So he took his time. Yawning, scratching, stretching and pretending that there wasn't a bird perched on the branch right next to him. Thankfully they had the decency to respect his belongings. All the white splotches were spread out in a perfect circle around his personal space.

  Shapes started becoming clearer with another eye rub. The random place that he chose to rest had been overrun with Taillow. A good amount had started staring at their waking comrade while others resumed doing things that a flock would do. Some would take the moment as magical, but he was immediately wary at the complete circle that they made around him. None rested on the ground, yet every branch that was around the height of his head was taken up, convenient places for plucking out an aggressive human child's hair. Another chirp right beside his ear made him realize that they'd nested on the tree that he was laying on too.

  And nobody was in sight.

  A distant flurry of movement made some of the birds ruffle in worry. Most had their eyes on the greater form that descended from the ceiling of leaves, its individual wings bigger than their entire wingspans. Kane supposed that the bird could lift him off a cliff if it put in enough effort. The Swellow's tail feathers stood alert, the surest sign of its health. It had no problem roosting on the ground unlike the rest of the flock. Its wicked talons dug down, wings placing themselves at its sides in a sharp movement.

  Kane's hands worked down his jacket. Unknowable amounts of items had been stuffed wherever there was room. Many that hadn't yet been officially revealed and others that were for private consumption. Green gold retreated from the pocket on his right hidden breast pocket that wouldn't be seen by the layman. Unwrapping the plastic coat stripped down delicious honey-flavored oats packed together in a bar. The pokémon leaned forwards and plucked it straight out of his hand. Some of the smaller birds protested only to be shut up by a single glare.

  "Alright. It's not like I was hungry or anything," Kane said. "Would you happen to know where Rustboro is?"

  The bird's wing extended behind. They had actually walked further than Rustboro due to taking multiple wrong turns.

  The rustling got closer. Feathers started preemptively flapping. The smallest members of the flock took to the sky while the larger ones looked to the Swellow for support. It took its time to fling its head back and swallow the bar whole. Its wings flew up in a salute before it disappeared in a single flap. Many offered similar salutes as they followed their leader. Within seconds it was as if no pokémon had ever been there, save for the few blue feathers that were quickly swept up by the breeze.

  The rustling broke through the brush with its claws raised high. Kane barely leapt out of the way before the tree he was resting on got two new cuts gouged into it. The monster whipped around wildly, screeching. Kane couldn't decide if its jaw dropping to its breast was more scary than the two pairs of claws that were raised in the air.

  "Holy h-e double hockey sticks!" Kane yelled, reaching for the pokéballs. None of his main team was on him, which meant that he had to rely on the few pokémon on hand—untrained babies against a raging second-evolution.

  Tangela and Tynamo gave battle cries as they were called. Tynamo flopped uselessly on the ground as Tangela immediately flew by Kane's head. The rest of the pokéballs impacted, letting a black Ratata and Fomantis take form. Both threw themselves bodily out of the way as the Vigoroth closed in with its claws aimed at their throats. He jabbed those wicked blades into the ground to stop his momentum and screeched.

  They really had no chance of surviving without some kind of help.

  "Tynamo! Release electricity up into the sky!"

  The burst of power behind him didn't halt the Vigoroth from charging with its arms poised to hug Fomantis. The difference in height worked against it as the smaller pokémon just rolled underneath his arms, swiping its blades against the vulnerable Vigoroth's back. His roar of rage was more out of shock than actual pain. It immediately turned around and leapt again. Fomantis squeaked in terror. With barely a split second to spare, he slid down on the ground to let the claws rip where his head used to be. Just before he could breathe a sigh of relief, Vigoroth leapt backwards and landed on top of the vulnerable grass-type.

  Stronger, and faster. The first claws that descended had already sliced off fresh peels ready for eating.

  The Rattata's charged with its head against the side of the Vigoroth only to uselessly bounce backwards. It stared in horror as its ally was ripped into little morsels. Only a red beam that withdrew the pokémon saved it from worse injuries. Rattata shook even harder as the Vigoroth now was focused on the pokémon that dared to try injuring it.

  Seeds landed on its back, sticking to its fur easily. The pokémon's claws tried their best to rip them off, leaving behind tiny cuts. Tangela was waddling back, one step at a time, firing more of the leech seeds as it retreated. It didn't get the memo that it had already seeded its target; behind those vines was a haze of terror that made its wavering pupils barely comprehend what was in front of it, only a good lineage stopping it from completely shutting down.

  Vigoroth wasn't a fan of those itchy seeds covering it. With two leaps, it landed on top of Tangela's head. The wild shaking didn't knock Vigoroth off, last resort vines that would've smacked into its head getting grabbed like reins. Vigoroth slammed his knee into the pokémon, landing on the ground as its prey flew into the treeline.

  "Tynamo! Thunder wave!"

  Sprinklings of green seeds sticking to its fur and its muscles freezing up made the fight look much more even than it actually was. The actual damage was limited to the self-inflicted red lines on its back. It swiped at the air and bellowed in rage. Rattata hunkered into the ground in fear.

  Tynamo was withdrawn into the pokéball. Kane pumped his fist. "Rattata! We just need to hold out! Keep it—"

  Kane rolled out of the way as the Vigoroth leapt, arms stretched high, brief paralysis giving Kane the crucial moment required to react. His shoulder took the brunt of the impact from the sloppy roll just as the Vigoroth landed. The pokémon continued asserting its dominance through screeching into the air.

  "Ratata! Tackle it! Pound! Do something!" Kane yelled, finding his feet and running away. The Vigoroth tried chasing before its legs seized up and caused it to trip. Any celebration was halted as he ran full tilt, breath stolen with each pump. It felt uncomfortably close to the last time he ran for his life.

  Kane's eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets when he saw Rattata keeping pace right next to him.

  "What're you doing!? We need somebody to distract the Vigoroth!"

  Ratata knew that the trainer wouldn't understand, but his squeaks could be roughly translated to, "I never wanted to be a battling pokémon!"

  Kane pretended that he knew what the pokémon said. "Well one of us has to and I'm the squishy human! We're going—gah!"

  They both flung themselves off the path into the waiting cushion of a bush as the Vigoroth charged down the path with its head held low like a battering ram and arms spread wide. It skidded to a stop, pounding the ground in frustration.

  Before it could leap again, leaves descended from above like missiles. Instead of the sloppy rain that Fomantis used, these were laser guided straight into the weak spots of the pokémon's body. It screamed in pain for the first time in the fight as its knees were especially targeted. Once kneeling, the paralysis prevented it from standing back up.

  Cottonee floated down from its hiding place. It gave a salute with its leaf as a wave of pink energy cut across the air. The Vigoroth was knocked off its knees into the brush, paralyzed body victim to the laws of gravity. Its frustrated screaming was the last hurrah, the last remnant of the fight the many claw marks that now peppered the path. Hikers in the coming days would recognize the destruction and would start a semi-informal meeting between the major outdoorsmen of Southern Hoenn; Norman attended the meeting to solidify himself as a community leader. They agreed to name the previously unnamed path 'Vigoroth's Gullet' and would stake signs warning travelers about the dangerous pokémon that made that place their home. Some blamed the industry that had been built further inland, scaring the normally docile pokémon. Others blamed cocksure trainers agitating the ecosystem. A conspiracy theory floated around that the hikers themselves left scraps that attracted more dangerous pokémon in the first place.

  Kane extracted himself from the bush with a satisfied expression. Pretending that he wasn't turned into a constellation map made the pain a little less noticeable. "Excellent work everybody. Good work Tangela and Tynamo for giving it statuses that probably ended up saving our butts. You did your best, Fomantis. You lasted as long as you could and it gave everyone else the time to do their thing. Good job, Cottonee, on saving us before a super dramatic life-threatening moment happened. And good job Rattata on being the most useless of us all!"

  The pokémon rolled its eyes as it retreated into its ball. Kane let his main pokémon rest on his head even if it would get cotton stuck into his mangy locks.

  "Now let's get back to civilization. Can't believe they left me when I was sleeping, geeze."