Lost and Found Again Chapter 1, a pokémon fanfic

Disclaimer: I claim no rights or ownership to Pokemon.

Notes: Welcome to the story. While reading, you'll probably notice I've made a few small changes, such as adding a Pokemon Center to Littleroot. Call it artistic license. Besides, it never made sense to me that a town with one of the most renowned professors wasn't more trafficked, and didn't have a Center. With that in mind, enjoy the story.

Lost and Found Again

Chapter One

He was irritated. Or perhaps just hungry. But most of all, more than anything, he was lost. It occurred to him that wandering off the path to forage for food had been a very bad idea. His feet ached, his legs hurt and his shin was bruised from slamming into one too many undergrowth-concealed logs. He was beginning to feel very homesick. Oh, the things he couldn't give for a soft, warm bed and a belly full of hot food...

He had not been as enthusiastic as his friends about beginning his pokemon journey. They all saw it as a rite of passage, the connecting thread from boyhood to manhood. It was their chance to go out and see the world, and live off their wits and the land without anybody's interference or assistance.

He just saw it as a way for a bunch of spoiled brats to get away from home and prove their independence by making more powerful creatures do all the work. He knew a lot of new trainers didn't make it past the first few months, once their starting money ran out and they started to go hungry. Most parents understood this, and vaguely held out hope that their children would make it and be successful, but were not surprised when they returned. He had been apprehensive when on his tenth birthday; he stepped outside of his hometown with nothing to his name but a modest sum of cash, a backpack full of homemade food, and a single pokeball containing a Torchic.

Now several weeks later, running low on food, water, morale and most importantly direction, he found himself in the middle of the forest outside of Petalburg. He had gotten to the city easily enough, and in his confidence borne of recent success, strolled into the forest without restocking, or even thinking to buy a map. The first few days hadn't worried him, the forest was big after all; it was foolish expecting to cross it in such a short time. However, as he traveled he began to see fewer and fewer trainers, and now fully a week into the forest, he had not seen a fellow human all day.

As night approached, he found a likely looking clearing, and flopped down next to a tree, releasing his Torchic as he did so. It had been a long day for both of them, and his avian companion deserved a break as much as either of them, and pokeballs were not known for their comfort. The twilit forest had grown quiet with the setting of the sun. The orange glow and long shadows made the long clearing seem somehow homey, and set the two companions at ease. The breeze was gently blowing the longer grasses, the hypnotic swaying slowly lulling them to sleep.

A twig snapped.

The boy jumped. His Torchic swiftly dashed in front of him, eyes darting back and forth, searching for the source of the noise, feathers puffed out to appear larger and menacing to any predators.

What entered the clearing was hardly the monster conjured by the imagination after a few seconds of tense silence. It was nothing but a Shroomish, a roughly spherical shaped creature, a manilla colored top and greenish lower body. The top half flared out at its ends, resembling a skirt. However, despite their visitor's comical appearance, the two travelers did not let down their guard. A Shroomish was a docile creature by nature, but was known to give off paralyzing spores when spooked, and the last thing either of them wanted was to spend their night immobile on the forest floor.

The visitor did not seem to notice the two wanderers, ambling about the clearing without any obvious intent. The human and his pokemon relaxed, letting out the breath that they'd been holding. The Shroomish, apparently heard this and whirled and fixed them with a glare. With no further warning, the Shroomish charged, warbling what could be called a battle cry in the same way a letter opener can be called a weapon.

The Torchic was surprised, but recovered quickly and tensed, waiting for just the right moment...just as it looked as though the little bird was about to get trampled, it let out a stream of fire, which the surprised mushroom barreled straight into...and through. The Torchic's eyes widened and it dove out of the way to avoid the angry and now rather enlightened Shroomish.

In midair, Torchic realized his mistake and turned with growing horror to his trainer. The Shroomish had not stopped after missing the Torchic, and instead carried on at a breakneck pace...straight at the boy. The little bird saw his trainer's eye widen in surprise moments before several pounds of angry burning mushroom pokemon slammed into his shins, knocking him forward. Luckily for the both of them, the Shroomish was now too preoccupied with other matters to pay them too much attention. It screeched, and shot out of the clearing.

After watching his trainer get taken out by thirty pounds of angry burning mushroom, the Torchic wasn't sure whether to laugh or worry. Fortunately the boy lifted his head up, spat out a mouthful of dirt and grass and groaned. His shins felt like someone had just taken a hammer to them, and the fall hadn't done the rest of his body any favors. He slowly rolled over onto his back and froze.

His pack was on fire! All of his supplies were in there! With a pained and frustrated gasp, he forced his way to his feet, only for his legs to buckle as his shins reminded him of their recent beating. With his eyes locked on his burning bag, he struggled his way to his feet more carefully this time, vaguely aware of his Torchic trying in vain to help him up.

He staggered over to the pack, and began stamping out his pack, each stomp sending fresh waves of agony shooting up his tortured legs. Finally, the miniature blaze was extinguished and he collapsed to his knees to inspect the damage (and to get off his feet).

The fire had completely destroyed the contents of the backpack. All his money, his food, his supplies, were gone. His legs hurt, he had a headache, he was lost in the middle of this stupid forest and he was hungry. He fell from his kneeling position to his back and sniffled. Then he snuffled. Then sobs wracked his whole body, his Torchic learning in close to offer what little comfort it could. It wasn't fair.

He just wanted to go home. He fell asleep clutching his little avian companion to his chest and hoped things would get better in the morning.

She had been watching him for three days. When he strayed off the path and began going deeper into the forest, she suspected he had been hunting for more powerful pokemon to add to his team, like most trainers did. However, as she observed, his didn't seem to have any particular destination in mind and never seemed to capture any pokemon. She though this strange, but put it down to high standards. Most trainers willing to go through the extra effort to travel this deep were very choosy about what they captured. It never occurred to her that he had simply neglected to buy pokeballs before he left town.

Nevertheless, he intrigued her. The boy had none of the swaggering arrogance she saw in many other new trainers. He was kind to his single pokemon, and took no joy in defeating those found in the wilderness. He was proud of his little Torchic of course, but the actual combat held no perverse joy for him. He defended himself from the wilderness and that was that.

She wouldn't admit it to anyone, but she was also beginning to worry about him. The boy was clearly having trouble fending off the progressively more powerful creatures as he got deeper into the forest. She also suspected he was lost; he would spend entire days either going in circles, or taking winding, looping paths that made very little actual progress to forest's edge.

On her third night of observation, she watched the skirmish with the Shroomish and the subsequent destruction of the boy's belongings. She was vaguely aware of what trainers kept in their backpacks, and knew that whether he realized it or not, he was now in deep trouble unless he could forage for himself. Somehow, she doubted it. Watching the boy clutch his little Torchic close and sob himself to sleep, she felt her heart break. She decided that differences between them be damned—she was going to do what she could to help him.

The morning dawned bright and early, as was to be expected, and awoke the boy from his mercifully dreamless slumber. He was vaguely confused at first. He remembered that something had happened last night...something bad... As he turned over and spied the charred remains of his bag he grimaced. Oh. Right.

He didn't bother crying. He had cried himself all out last night, and now he just wanted to get out of this forest, go home, and forget any of this had ever happened. First thing was first, he needed to get some food in his belly. Well that was no problem, he had plenty in his...back...pack.

Oh right.

He sat down, staring dejectedly at nothing...or rather what had been nothing last night. His tired brain tried to get his attention, succeeding after a few false starts. In front of him, was a small pile of berries that he knew had not been there last night. And these appeared to have been placed there deliberately, not merely a combination of random chance and incredible luck.

He peered around the clearing. He was no tracker, but there didn't appear to be any tracks left by a careless pokemon bringing food back to their den. These had almost definitely been left for him...but by whom? His Torchic was unburdened by such worries, and had already begun tucking in. The boy blinked and shrugged. Before he joined his pokemon, he made sure that he remembered his manners. No need to be rude, after all.

"Thank you."

She smiled at the boy's response. You're welcome.

He looked up sharply as he heard a cracking noise from the surrounding forest. It sounded like something much larger than a twig snapping. Staring back at him from the tree line was a pair of crimson eyes. The early morning light and long shadows turned everything else into a vague silhouette. He froze. As he watched, the figure raised a hand and beckoned to him. It then turned and walked away. He turned to his Torchic who often had a better sense about these things than he did. The little pokemon didn't seem worried at all and merely nodded at him. The boy blinked, shrugged, and recalled the bird pokemon. He turned to where the figure had been and walked into the trees.

As the shadows enfolded him, he peered around, trying to catch a glimpse of the figure he had seen earlier. The forest appeared deserted...no insects were buzzing, no birds were chirping. Later, when he remembered, this would strike him as very strange, but for the time being he was intent on finding his elusive guide. The sun-dappled floor was strewn with organic debris, a layer of grass and weeds and bark dampening any sound footsteps would make, so listening for those wasn't an option. The breeze wafted the scent of bark and grasses toward him, but nothing unnatural...as if he'd be able to track by his sense of smell anyway. He silently chuckled at himself for the silly notion. He noticed a shadow quietly detach itself from a tree and walk away out of the corner of his eye. He turned and ran after it, hoping to catch up. However, it ducked behind a tree and disappeared from his sight. He ran to the tree and skidded around the other side, prepared to tackle the figure if he had to, tensed to leap and...

...there was nothing there.

He straightened up, thoroughly bewildered. His "guide" had led him here, and then up and disappeared. Frustrated, he slumped against the tree and took in his surroundings. Much the same as the rest of the forest, he noticed the tree he was leaning against was easily twenty feet in diameter, and towered above the forest canopy. Hanging from the branches was some sort of green lichen. After several minutes of staring at the mossy branches, a few bits of bark hit him on the head, prompting him to look up. A pair of red eyes looked back. Then it released something, and before he could dive out of the path of the falling object, he found himself entangled in a net.

After ducking behind the tree she climbed it by way of leaping from branch to branch, gathering handfuls of the lichen as she went. Once she had reached what she judged to be an appropriate amount of the stringy, green material, she began to work. Her hands a blur, she wove the lichen together with an ease and speed that came from long practice and experience. Soon, she had what appeared to be a mat of lichen, roughly four feet square. She held it up in front of her and scrutinized her work, and nodded, satisfied. As she brought the lichen mat back toward her, she slipped, and sent a small shower of bark raining down on anything below. She looked down, and froze, staring into the boy's eyes. Green, she noticed. She quickly came to her senses and dropped her lichen creation and leapt to a neighboring tree.

She was trying to help the child, but that hardly meant she had to give herself away.

As the net landed on him, he struggled out of it, hand going for his Torchic's pokeball. Before he could get it free and release the bird however, he found himself free of the net, and feeling rather foolish. It was hardly a net at all. It resembled nothing more than a small blanket. He stared at it, momentarily baffled. It had clearly not been designed with his capture in mind.

All in all, he was very confused.

For a fleeting moment, he had thought his mysterious guide had led him here only to capture him, but that was obviously not the case. If anything, the net appeared to be some sort of gift. But what for? Baffled, he picked up the net and slung it over his shoulder. He wasn't sure who, or even what he was following, but it seemed benign. Besides, he had been wandering aimlessly, this gave him something to work toward—something he desperately needed to keep his mind off his predicament.

Minor crisis over with, he was ready to get moving again. He looked up, trying to get his bearings. He had been lost before, and that...hadn't changed a bit. In following the figure he'd, as best as he could work out, ended up in...another part of the forest. Clearly, wilderness survival was not his forte. He didn't liked being so reliant on his mysterious benefactor, but he didn't think he had much choice. Suppose he wasn't been led out of the forest after all? Maybe the lichen mat had been nothing but a clever ruse to gain his trust.

Well, it had worked. Try as he might, for some reason he couldn't distrust those ruby-red eyes. Despite the fact that he had only managed to glimpse them for moments at a time, he hadn't been able to detect any malice in them.

His musing had taken the better part of several minutes, and he hadn't paid much attention to his surroundings. If there was anything he had learned during his trek in the forest, it was that any long period of inattention resulted in an encounter with a wild pokemon. As he returned to attentiveness, he noticed the lack of a wild Poochyena gnawing at his shins and frowned. The forest was still eerily silent. Immediately after noticing this, his eyes were inexplicably drawn to the canopy line, where he once again espied a pair of scarlet eyes in a tree thirty yards from him. They blinked, turned and their owner bounded into the waiting branches of another tree. The figure landed, arms splayed to its sides to keep balance, and its head turned to look at the boy, as if to ask 'Are you coming?', turned away and continued jumping. He followed.

It was about midday, she judged. The noontime heat in combination with the taxing tree-hopping was making her pant with exertion. She reasoned that the boy was probably not doing much better. Just a little bit longer, and they'd be at their destination. She hated to force him to keep up at this pace, but if they wanted to get out of the forest in any reasonable amount of time, it was her only option. She glanced backward and downward at the boy.. He was panting as well, and bent down to take a breather when he noticed her eyes on him. He stared up at her, the faintest of frowns on his face. He was no doubt confused, but her reasons were her own, and she wasn't about to try to talk to him. That never seemed to end well. Perhaps when he was safe and sound, and even then she didn't think she would do it. There was too much that could go wrong...

He had been jogging after the figure for what seemed like hours now. It allowed him a chance to rest every so often, but the pace was relentless. He was hot, hungry, and above all thirsty. Without his canteen however, he had been forced to endure. He didn't like enduring. It made his tongue feel like it was coated with sandpaper, and his mouth feel like it was lined with cotton.

Just now, his guide seemed to be allowing him another blessed chance to catch his breath. As he bent double, hands on his knees, he looked up to see red eyes staring at him. He frowned as he wondered about its reasons for helping, and its silence. He looked back down before his thoughts could get started. He knew if he started down that path, he'd just be going in circles with no real answers. Best to just go with the flow for now, and see where it took him. Hopefully somewhere with food and water...especially water.

And again, the figure was turning and preparing to leap. Just as its legs bent and it tensed, preparing to spring, a ray of sunlight caught the back of its hand and the boy saw a glint of silver backed by black. It was almost as if the figure was wearing gloves with spikes on the knuckles.

Curiouser and curiouser...it was a phrase he had learned some time before he began his journey and it seemed odd at the time. "Curiouser" wasn't a word, was it? And what a strange way to say that you were confused. In light of recent events though, it seemed to fit. A strange combination of bewilderment and strangeness and curiosity. Curiouser and curiouser indeed...

Some time later, the light had softened to the slightly deeper glow of the early afternoon, and he had settled into a light jogging pace that kept his guide in sight, and his stamina up. It was taxing, but not overly so; he vaguely recalled hearing this feeling being referred to as getting your "second wind". Learning to ignore the heat had been simple enough. It was kind of peaceful, really, being surrounded by the orange light and green foliage, in the cool shade of the forest...he had still not yet run across a single wild pokemon which was beginning to unsettle him. He decided to ignore that particular gift horse and keep going. And it paid off—just on the edge of hearing, he could discern a faint trickling noise...that sounded like...water! He put on a burst of speed borne of thirst and excitement. He could see it just through the trees now! He took his eyes off his guide, fully intent on getting a nice, long drink. He skidded to a halt, just on the banks of the stream, fell to his knees and all but dove in. He submerged his head, and just let the water flow over him, cooling him off. Eventually he took his head out and greedily slaked his thirst. After a moment's peace, he called out his Torchic and indicated the stream. The little bird chirped happily and unknowingly imitated his trainer.

As the two leaned contentedly against a handy tree, the boy realized that the sounds of the forest had returned. The chirping and buzzing and humming were back to normal levels. He sighed and closed his eyes, relaxing…

...and awoke sometime later, in the deep orange glow of mid-afternoon. How long had he slept? Two, three hours? Regardless of how traveling time he had lost, he felt refreshed. Depending on the light, he could continue for several more hours. His stomach rumbled, reminding him of a particularly important detail.

Ah, he amended, several more hours after we get some food. And as he was getting up to look for something edible, his gaze fell across a pile of edible berries and various fruits. His eyes widened slightly in surprise. There was far more than he and his Torchic could eat in a single sitting. He shrugged and dug in, while his companion did the same. After diminishing the pile somewhat he looked at the remaining food, and a thought occurred to him. He grabbed his lichen mat from where it had fallen when he fell asleep and placed all the food into it. He then folded it into a vaguely baglike shape and tied it to his belt. Who needs a backpack? He grinned at this little triumph, when he realized the forest had once again fallen silent. He gazed into the forest, and found what he was looking for; a pair of red eyes boring into his own. And perhaps it was his imagination, but despite the shadow enshrouding he could swear he could make out a smile on his guide's face...

The boy had fallen asleep after eating, which was just as well, because she had needed time to gather food for herself and her charge anyway. She had smiled as he fell asleep, his demeanor quite the contrast from the last time she had seen him asleep.

She had since returned from her foraging trip, and had been meditating in the shadow of a nearby tree, watching over the boy. She doubted any harm would come to him while she was around. The wild pokemon populating the forest were afraid of her, and for good reason. She could easily defeat them with nothing but her bare hands. But she never killed if she could help it, and was strictly an herbivore. Cooking was too difficult in the middle of the forest without tools anyway. She supposed she was unique in a way. Not many like her would have chosen to stay in a forest like this, or at least not for very long. But she had settled down to stay several years ago. She had been unable to move on ever since...

She halted that train of thought. She didn't want to remember that. Not now...

She noticed that the boy was stirring. Unbidden, a memory came to her. She smiled sadly as she remembered someone very like this poor lost boy. But there would be time for memory later, he was awake and he had seen her. Luckily, she was still in the cover of the trees, and he could not see her very well, especially in the dwindling light. She knew they didn't have much light left to travel by. Three or four hours at the most; then the darkness made any movement a risky gamble where the payoff could be a broken ankle. She wasted no time in beckoning to charge and striding off. She stopped to confirm that he was following, and when she was sure that he was, continued through the forest at a brisker pace. The trees here were younger than in the other parts of the forest, and she couldn't guarantee that the branches would hold her weight. She would just have to leg it and make sure the boy never got a clear look at her...

He was following his guide at a steady jogging pace now. He had returned his Torchic to a pokeball and began following soon after he awoke. The forest floor was clear enough that he didn't have to watch his feet, so his mind was clear for other things. Like thinking...

He had wondered about his guide, but now he was even more perplexed. He hadn't been able to get a good look at...him? Her? He wasn't sure which pronoun to attach to his guide. Perhaps he would just think of the mysterious character as "Guide". Earlier when Guide had turned to look at him, he'd finally gotten a good look at its face...or at least the profile of it. And he wasn't sure if it was a trick of the light or not, but it seemed as if the shadowy silhouette of a head had possessed for more muzzle than your average person. And even more confusing, a tiny sliver of the dwindling light had managed to sneak past the foresty barrier and illuminate Guide's hand, and he had caught a glimpse of silver again. Earlier, he had assumed spiked gloves, but that seemed impossible now. It had looked as though a single spike simply extended from the back of the hand, and tapered to a point a few inches above it.

Who—or what, a tiny part of his mind whispered—was Guide?

In his musing, he hadn't paid attention to where he was going and failed to notice a concealed branch until he was sprawled on the ground and it held his foot captive. Always the legs, he mentally sighed. He simply lay there for a moment—the fall had knocked the wind out of him, and getting it back was not proving easy. Finally, he was able to suck in a breath of air, and began the long climb to standing upright. He pulled his arms in was about to push him up when he froze. A low growling he could feel in his bones was making itself heard. The sound sent shivers down his spine, and they rooted themselves in a tiny part of his brain labeled Fear. And if his ears were accurate, the source was right behind him. He slowly, ever so slowly turned his head to look.

A Poochyena was sitting on the branch he had just tripped over. A very angry Poochyena. It appeared he hadn't just tripped over a bit of fallen forest. And like any other creature, the hound pokemon was none too happy about having been kicked, and was about to have words with his attacker. Most Poochyena spoke a very physical language. When the boy realized all this, his hand crept to his belt where his pokeball—

...wasn't? There was nothing on his belt where his pokeball holder should have been. His blood froze in his veins, and he shivered involuntarily. The evening chill in the air didn't have anything to do with it. He shot to his feet and attempted to stand when his still-ensnared foot landed awkwardly, and he slammed chinfirst back into the dirt. He grunted, levered himself onto his arms, and drew his feet to safe ground, stood up and turn—

—was slammed into the ground by forty or so pounds of growling dog pokemon barreling into his chest. He slammed into the dirt for the third time in as many minutes, clutching onto the Poochyena out of reflex. That reflex turned to desperation as the Poochyena began straining against his hold, attempting to reach his throat. He tried to rise, but the Poochyena was heavier than it looked, and was pressing him down.

He screamed

She stopped, forward momentum nearly toppling her over. He head whipped around at the sound of the scream and she shot off in its direction without a second though. All the time, her thoughts were screaming at her You shouldn't have gone so far ahead, You'll never get there in time, It's already too late but louder than all the rest all not again, no, not again no

She nearly flew through the forest, retracing her steps, when she came upon a sight that made her blood freeze. The boy was sprawled on the ground, desperately attempting to keep a wild Poochyena away from his throat, but his strength was waning. Sooner or later, it was going to make it to the soft, yielding flesh and then there would be blood everywhere, the boy's eyes would grow lifeless, his breath would slow, stop…

NO!

She slammed into the Poochyena arms first in a forward tackle, grabbed it, hit the ground, rolled, rammed it up against a tree, cocked her fist back and slugged the Poochyena as hard as she could, fear and rage amplifying her strength. She pulled her fist back for another blow when she heard a soft sigh behind her. She dropped the Poochyena, and turned, rage instantly exchanging itself for gut-gripping terror. She saw the boy and felt like a lead weight had dropped into the pit of her stomach.

His neck was covered in blood, and his eyes were closed. She shot forward, put her hands to either side of her head no no no slowly reached down to his neck for a pulse please no, not again no and felt please a reassuring thump. She collapsed onto him, relief flooding her veins, all strength abandoning her. She clutched the boy as a drowning man would a lifeline, and buried her head against his chest, feeling the reassuring thump thump of his beating, living heart. A quick check revealed that his blood soaked neck was nothing more than the result of a small cut that had smeared, and he had merely fainted—probably from fear. She sighed and sat up, her thoughts slowly scrambling back into some semblance of order. First priority was to get the boy somewhere safer, and for preference somewhere more comfortable. She snatched his pokeball holder from where it had fallen and reattached it to his belt. She then picked him up. She knew a place in the forest that'd do the trick nicely.

He woke up slowly, the morning light reaching through the gaps in the roof above him. Once he had gotten his eyes open, he blinked slowly, waiting for his brain to start functioning. It could take its time, he was patient. After a few moments of peaceful staring, he came to a few interesting revelations. First, his neck hurt, and felt stiff. He touched it and found something stiff and unyielding there. It felt like...a bandage? He'd come back to that. Second, he had no idea where he was. Well, to be more precise, less idea than usual. Third, he had no idea how he had even gotten here. The last thing he remembered was...he had tripped...he had been trying to get up...he couldn't reach his pokeball...he had been attacked...

He had been attacked! He shot upright and felt his neck with new urgency. Still a bandage. He relaxed slightly. Whoever had put it there (had he done it?) obviously intended him no harm (no, of course he hadn't done it, he had no supplies...) He returned to trying to recall anything after that. He remembered feeling the hound's teeth on his neck, when suddenly its weight had disappeared, the teeth scraping into the skin as they were ripped away. He must have passed out after that...he recalled flashes of moonlight through...leaves? Yes, leaves...somebody carried him here? He found all he could remember was a shape and warmth.

So Guide had...maybe...saved him and then...yes, almost definitely...carried him here. Probably bandaged him up too. He sat up slowly, and took in his surroundings. He seemed to be in a natural cave of some sort, made up of roots. A shaft of sunlight peeked through the roots somewhere in front of him, probably an exit. He was in a roughly circular area, no more than about fifteen feet from end to end. His rumbling stomach interrupted his thoughts and he paused to call out his Torchic and sate his hunger with the remaining food from his lichen pouch.

When he was full, he realized that he was not alone in the root-cave. How he knew this, he wasn't sure, but he was positive there was somebody else in here with him...he looked around, and was not entirely surprised to find a pair of red eyes watching him. The two simply stared at each other for several long moments before Guide seemed to sigh, and stood up. The boy had to bite back a gasp as the true nature of his mysterious helper was revealed. It was not a particularly tall figure, probably just brushing the four foot mark, with a canine head colored in rich blue, with a stripe of black fur running across its head right at eye level and extending up from between the eyes and up over the head, almost like a headband. It had two black, bulbous extensions that appeared to be fur extending from the back of its head, and its ears were distinctly doglike in appearance, standing straight up from its head. The rest of its body was humanoid, with black fur covering its wrists, hands and legs from the knees down. Blue fur covered the rest save for the torso, which was a snowy white. It had abnormally large thighs, tapering down to a reasonable size right at knee level. Its knees bent backwards, like those of a dog, and the boy could just make out a tail behind the figure. And right in the center of its chest and on the back of either hand were three wickedly sharp looking silvery spikes. The last thing he noticed was its pupils were vertical slits, like those of a cat. The entire figure had a sleek, predatory look about it.

Despite this, the boy wasn't afraid, even as the figure approached him. Why should he be? It had fed him, led him to water, saved him from a wild pokemon and then bandaged him up. As far as he was concerned, he was safer here than anywhere else in the forest. His Torchic seemed to feel the same way, and was totally at ease with the creature. If he had been able to read his pokemon's expression a little better, the boy would have realized that the look on the little bird's face was one of absolute awe and respect.

The creature—No, Guide, the boy reminded himself—kneeled down next down to him and gently pushed him back down. It began to inspect the bandage around the boy's neck and made a soft noise of approval. It motioned to him to remain still and began to peel the bandage off. The boy winced at the stinging sensation, but it soon passed. He looked at his savior and she returned his look with a smile. He blinked—when had he begun thinking of Guide as a "she"? It seemed right though—and she stepped back and he stood up slowly, his muscles complaining every inch of the way. He stretched, popping bones and twanging tendons, and looked at his Guide to see what was next. She smiled and walked toward the exit of the cave, and motioned for him to follow. He returned his Torchic to the pokeball, gathered his things and went outside.

He was almost surprised to find that she was still there, having half expected her to have disappeared. But there she was, fully illuminated in the early morning sunshine. She nodded at him, and the two began walking together.

After she had brought the boy to the shelter, she had made a decision. She no longer cared if he found out what she was, her foolish "secrecy" had nearly gotten the poor boy killed. Though he was of another species, she could not simply leave him to die. She had made it her personal mission to see the boy safely out of the forest, and secrecy be damned. She had been a little surprised at his lack of reaction, but she reasoned that she had probably dropped enough hints that it wasn't too much of a shock. She wondered if perhaps she had wanted him to figure it out...

So now she was leading a human child through the forest, and hopefully out of it. Certainly not something you saw every day, but she had long ago learned that the tedium of the everyday grew quite dull. She was rather glad for the change of pace. She continued musing on such thoughts and was surprised when the boy spoke.

"I um...I wanna thank you. Uh, not just for saving me, but for everything, you know? The food, guiding me toward water...taking me out of the forest. It...I...you probably saved my life. Thanks," he said, grinning sheepishly, "And um...my name's Derrel."

She smiled at his awkwardness, gave him a smile and nodded to show that he was welcome and continued walking...but the smile never quite left her face. She was going to miss Derrel when he was gone...

They walked for most of the day, stopping occasionally to rest or eat, and by late evening seemed to have made good progress...or so Derrel assumed. He didn't recognize any of this, but then again, it all looked the same to him. He trusted that Guide knew what she was doing, and simply enjoyed the sights. He wondered again at the lack of pokemon attacks, but assumed it had something to do with Guide's presence.

As he walked with his new...friend for lack of a better word Derrel found himself compelled to fill the silence. It was making him uncomfortable. He didn't exactly know what to talk about with somebody as different as Guide. So he stuck with what he knew—himself. Before he knew it, he began telling an abridged version of his life's story.

"...all my friends were really excited to get to go on their pokemon journey, or whatever. They all thought it'd be easy. I was worried about all the the little things though, like food and water and stuff. They all thought I was dumb, it'd be cakewalk, just wait and see! But I heard the moms and dads talking before we left, about how almost all new trainers quit after a month...and well, here I am...they were right. I just wanna go home..." he ended sadly. "Meeting you was cool though...you're nice."

She simply smiled at him in response. He wondered at that. He'd heard that pokemon were able to make some basic sounds, growls and whimpers and so on along with their species' names...but this one had been silent thus far. He was almost certain she was a pokemon, what else would she be? Her behavior was interesting too...he had never really thought much about a pokemon's intelligence. His Torchic seemed to understand what he was saying most of the time...he had never really thought about it though. Just how smart were pokemon? As far as he could tell, Guide was just as smart as (if not smarter than) a human. If anything, it just made him more comfortable...he didn't feel so alone any more.

They walked in a companionable silence for the remainder of the twilight, finally stopping in a small clearing, which was little more than a circle of ground that wasn't covered in roots and trees. The forest floor made for a comfortable resting place. Derrel turned to his traveling companion and muttered a weary goodnight. She returned it as best she could without the aid of speech, and he fell asleep within minutes of laying his head to rest.

She watched him for some time after he finally dropped off into dreamland. She had looked at him before yes, but never really taken a good look at his features. He brown hair that was matted and dirty from his time spent in the wilderness. He had a skinny, almost malnourished look about him, all knees and elbows, but if the previous two days were any indication he was in good shape. And there was something about the way he held himself, or the way he acted that made her want to smile and cry at the same time. He acted like he expected the sky to come crashing down at any moment, but took it with a sort of fatalistic good humor. Yes, she thought, I made the right decision. Human or not, he needed help. He's such a nice boy too...she frowned. Where had that last thought come from? She sighed. She really was going to miss him when he left the forest. Perhaps she could follow him when he left, maybe even join his team? She chuckled at the thought; how ridiculous!

Still...why not? Oh sure, she hadn't wanted to leave the forest for quite some time, but that wasn't a matter of attachment. Simply...loyalty? No, that wasn't quite right. She didn't truly have any possessions, and friends were something of an alien concept to her.

Maybe...

Derrel awoke in time to see the sunrise. This was unusual. Much of the time when he had been living at home, he had been awakened by the midday sun. It wasn't so much that he was lazy—he did what he was asked and fairly promptly at that. He just seemed to like to sleep. His short journey in the wilderness had begun to whip his internal clock into shape it seemed, and no longer allowed his body that luxury. So he sat in the grass and watched as early-morning sunshine streamed through the trees and caught motes of dust in midair, turning the shafts of orange sunlight into sparkling rays. The sight was breathtaking, especially for someone to whom watching a sunrise was a rare opportunity. Perhaps this traveling thing wasn't quite so bad after all.

He noticed Guide was gone, and frowned. Maybe she had something important to take care of. He hoped she'd be back soon.

In order to kill some time, he called out his Torchic and the two ate their fill from their supply of food. During the walk yesterday, Guide had pointed out the various edible fruits and berries and he had stocked up accordingly. Derrel was beginning to tire of the vegetarian fare, but knew he'd have to wait until he reached a town to get a decent meal. He also supposed he should get used to this...he was on what was essentially an extended wilderness trip, wasn't he? But he was going home soon, right? Right! Just have to get out of this forest...

As if reading his thoughts, Guide stepped out of the trees and into the clearing. She threw something at Derrel and he fumbled to catch it. Once he had, he examined it. It felt like some kind of flexible leather pouch, and it had some sort of opening that was stoppered with a cork. He realized it was a waterskin...in the most literal sense of the word. He wondered just how she had made it and decided it was best not to wonder. Where she had found a cork was quite the mystery though.

"Er, thank you. Where can I fill it up though?" he wondered. An empty waterskin wasn't going to do him much good, really.

She turned and pointed to his left. He looked in the direction she indicated and saw...mores trees.

"I don't see anything..."

She sighed and rolled her eyes. She began walking in the direction of (apparently) the stream, and motioned for him to follow. He quickly grabbed his things, returned his Torchic and followed. In short order, he arrived at the bank of a small creek where he was able to fill the skin. He turned to find her tapping her foot with a faint trace of a smile on her face. He rolled his eyes in return and followed her.

Derrel figured they were approaching the edge of the forest. He knew it was big, but it wasn't that big. He hadn't seen any other humans, but he realized that Guide was probably trying to avoid them. He was excited that he'd soon be able to get out of the forest and into the open air again, but also apprehensive about his departure. He doubted that Guide would accompany him, and he was growing rather attached to her. Maybe he could somehow convince her to join him?

Join you in what? His mind whispered. Aren't you going home?

To tell the truth, he was no longer sure what he was going to do. He gave up and just figured that getting out of the forest was good enough for now. He'd cross any other bridges when he came to them.

It was noon, and she knew the forest's edge was a mere stone's throw away, perhaps a ten-minute walk at most...and this fact was making her increasingly nervous. She was beginning to seriously consider accompanying this boy—

Derrel, she corrected herself

—Derrel beyond the forest. She was also growing increasingly conflicted about this. Despite what she had assured herself of earlier, she had lived in the forest for several years, and doing so had become something of a habit. And she wasn't sure if she even wanted to break it. After all, it was peaceful, there were no real threats to her aside from the occasional trainer, and they were easily avoided. Plenty of food, plenty of water...

Six one way and a half dozen the other. She sighed. She seemed to be doing that a lot recently...

And there they were. The edge of the forest. The end of the line. The sun was high in the sky, and the tall grasses were waving. Derrel gasped and dashed out into the middle of it and threw up his arms. The sight of open sky was a relief—he had begun to felt a little claustrophobic in the forest.

"Finally!" he shouted, "I thought I'd never get out of there!"

He turned and trotted back to the edge of the forest a bit sheepishly. He couldn't simply dash off; after all, there were some things that needed to be done. He stopped just before his Guide, looked up at her, and engulfed her in a tight bear hug.

"Thank you," he whispered, "you saved my life, even though you didn't have to. I'll never forget you. I promise."

She pulled away from him, and held him by both shoulders, looked into his eyes, smiling sadly. She nodded at him, let go and took a step back. He beamed at her in return, turned and set off toward distant-but-visible Petalburg.

Don't cry, she whispered to herself, You only knew him for five, five and a half days! Logic decreed that she shouldn't feel anything for him at all. Logic, rarely wins such arguments, however...

She stopped trying to hold tears back and wept freely for the boy she barely knew. She made a decision then; one that she knew would change her life. Tears streaming down her face, she turned back to the forest, and silently apologized.

Derrel found himself inside the city limits of Petalburg by sundown. He would have been there sooner, but the wild pokemon in the fields leading to the town had been making up for lost time. Derrel was exhausted from dodging stray shots, claws, and stingers, and his little Torchic was exhausted from the very same, with added fighting. The two staggered into the Pokemon Center, and Derrel managed to get his Torchic healed, book a room and bolt down some dinner before stumbling into his room and collapsing onto his bed. He was asleep before his head hit the pillow.

…

The next day, he found himself sticking to habits he had learned in the forest, and woke with the sun. He muzzily raised his head and glanced at the time. Six twenty-three. He groaned and tried to fall back asleep, but it was no use. He groaned again, and levered himself into a sitting position and swung his feet out, and stood up.

Or, he tried to. What he accomplished was more of a forward stagger followed by a faceplant. His legs were stiff as boards, and his feet were clearly not happy with him. They had lodged several complaints, and were now demanding their dues very loudly. He got up, slowly this time, and when he was standing vertically, he made his way to Center's shower facilities. He turned the temperature all the way up and realized how he had never really appreciated how good scalding water felt. He toweled off, brushed his teeth and dressed, feeling better than he had in weeks. There was something about spending time in the wild that made you appreciate simple modern conveniences.

He returned to his room, gathered his things and his pokemon, and after a hearty breakfast of something he hadn't taken the time to identify he checked out of the center, and began working his way through town. He considered picking up some things from the local PokeMart, until he remembered that his money had been destroyed along with the rest of his things. He would have to carry it on his person next time...

Wait, next time? What was he thinking?

He shook his head and his thoughts returned to matters closer at hand. Specifically, the short trip back to his home in Littleroot. He would travel along Route 102 to the east until he reached Oldale, then turn south and travel along Route 101, and he'd find himself right back home. The trip would altogether take no longer than four days, perhaps five if he ran into bad weather. The only things he had to worry about were wild pokemon, and other trainers. He'd seen a report on the local news channel that a self-proclaimed "pokemon bandit" was hounding travelers. He'd been spotted on both Route 102 and 101, but police had yet to track him down. Derrel didn't think too much of this. He was traveling in broad daylight, along two much-trafficked roads. Most of the attacks had happened upon seldom-traveled dirt trails along the way, and most of the victims were travelers who had been ambushed in the night.

As he emerged from the city and onto the clearly marked and delineated Route 102, he found himself letting out a sigh of relief. He hadn't realized it at the time, but the city had felt loud and claustrophobic after the silence and openness of the fields and forest. He relaxed and let himself enjoy the sights. He had filled up his waterskin in the Pokemon Center before he had left, and had no doubt about his ability to find edibles along the path. His short time in the forest had taught him plenty in that regard.

Several hours later he realized with a start that he was start that he was staring at the sign that marked the midway point between Petalburg and Oldale. The sun was low in the sky—how the time had flown! Between enjoying the scenery and the occasional battle with wild pokemon, he and his Torchic had made extremely good time. At this rate, he would reach Oldale by the end of the day tomorrow.

Another reason for their pace was his Torchic. The last time he had traveled this path, it had taken a full three and a half days to reach Petalburg, but his little pokemon companion had been hard pressed to defeat a single opponent, and each victory was hard-won. Now, his Torchic dispatched foes with an ease and ferocity that had shocked Derrel. He'd noticed that the bird had displayed an unusual amount of confidence in his battles. Before, he had been a timid little bird, fighting very defensively. Now, he move with a surety that Derrel knew had not been there a week ago. Derrel shook his head and grinned. Perhaps there was something to this journey thing after all.

He set up what could be kindly referred to as a camp, and unkindly referred to as "a spot of softer dirt". There was no need for any sort of blanket, the late summer warmth and his flame-elemental companion saw to that. He drifted off quickly.

…

The next day was much the same as the first, the tedium of familiarity beginning to grate on Derrel. The first day had been an interesting change of pace, but today was much the same as the last. The same pokemon attacking, the same easy victories, the same dirt trail spotted with trees and taller grass. After a while, he tuned much of it out and tried to occupy his brain with what he had learned before he set out on his journey.

The Routes, for example, there was something he could think about. The Routes had been a massive, government funded project to create safe roadways between cities, both major and minor, in order to promote travel and trade. Large paths had been plowed, dug, or blasted through whatever got in the way, and the resulting roadways had been graded, asphalted and numbered. However, it soon became apparent that massive amounts of maintenance would be necessary to keep the roads in good condition. At this, the protesters surged forward, citing the damage the road-building techniques had already caused to wild pokemon habitats, and attempting to maintain the roads would be disastrous to these habitats. Due to immense public pressure from pokemon activists and anti-modernization groups, combined with massive maintenance costs, the project was dubbed a failure and scrapped. The roads still remained, much of the asphalt eroded away by time, the elements and travel, but the present-day Routes still followed roughly the same path as their more ambitious predecessors. They were nowhere near the technological marvels they had been previously, now usually nothing more than well-traveled dirt or gravel roads marked with the occasional sign. Sometimes there was talk about resurrecting the Routes Project, but such ventures never got off the ground.

Derrel looked up and grinned. While he had been lost in thought, he had nearly reached the outer limits of Oldale and hadn't even noticed. He had made better time than he had thought possible. He still had an hour or two of daylight left he guessed. At this time of the year, that'd make it about...oh, call it seven, seven-thirty. Far too early to simply go to bed. However, Oldale was a small town, and its inhabitants had to make their own entertainment. And so it was that Derrel noticed a flyer that advertised an "Open Pokemon Tournament". Each entrant paid a nominal 5 fee and participated in a simple ladder-style tournament of pokemon battles. The ad indicated that the battleground was at the northeastern end of town, behind the Pokemon Center.

Derrel had managed to pick up some coin by defeating other trainers along the path. Common courtesy dictated that you gave the person who defeated you a modest sum. Derrel had lost some, but won most, and now had some money to his name once again. He didn't feel tired, and didn't particularly feel like spending the remainder of his night in the Pokemon Center. Well, why not? Maybe it'd be fun.

In short order, he found himself staring at the "battleground". The title brought forth images of a vast, sweeping field with bleachers filled with people and so forth...but in truth, it was nothing more than a circle of hard dirt surrounded by a few logs that had been cut in half vertically to serve as benches. The announcer was nothing more than a large man with a voice that carried well. As Derrel walked up, he could hear the bellowing easily.

"...looking for one more participant! We've got seven, we need at least eight for an even match! C'mon, I know one of you out there's got it in you, only five dollars, winner takes home a nice chunk of change, even losers have a good time! "

Derrel was surprised. He thought he'd show up to see a battle already in progress. Oh well, small town life, who needed organization? He stepped through the modest crowd in an attempt to get a better look at what was happening.

"You there!" the announcer boomed, pointing right at Derrel, "You look like a good, strong trainer! Whaddaya say, up for some battling?" Derrel stared for a second, momentarily speechless at being addressed. He recovered quickly, however.

"Um, okay. I actually was going to—"

"Fantastic! I'll take your entrance fee, and you can go meet the other contestants on the other side of the ring!" Derrel, a little out of his depth at this point wordlessly handed over the bills and walked to the other side of the ring.

He took a moment to size up his opponents. There we six of them altogether, all but one looking around his age, all wearing expressions with varying amounts of apprehension. The older contestant appeared to be in his mid-fifties, with a weatherbeaten and tanned face that spoke of lots of sun his younger days, and a lean build that suggested he had been quite the athlete at one point in his life; possibly a runner. Derrel wondered why he was participating. Probably a resident of Oldale, looking for a little bit of entertainment, he concluded. His thoughts were interrupted by the realization that the announcer had been speaking for some time now.

"...those of you that don't know, we hold this little tournament of ours every week on Saturday nights—"

So it was Saturday. Derrel had forgotten to check the date before he left Petalburg. Oops.

"—and it's just a way for us country folk to relax and enjoy the fine sport that is pokemon battling! The rules are as follows: You enter one pokemon, and you'll use that one from start to finish. Victory will be decided by knockout or ringout. No items—potions, berries and whatnot—are allowed! We've got one, two...eight contestants tonight, so we'll be seeing ah...seven matches! Now, without further ado, let's meet the trainers!"

There was an appreciative cheer from the crowd and the announcer made his way over to the seven contestants. He stood next to the old man first and began speaking once more.

"First and foremost, Oldale's very own reigning champeen, Jeremy Goldwen, better known as Old Man Gold! Originally hailing from the Johto region, he now makes his home in Oldale, and remains undefeated ever since joining us six months ago!"

Derrel tuned out the rest of the introductions. His attention had been grabbed by one of the other contestants. He was Derrel's age and the only particularly notable thing about the boy was his white hair. Other than that, he was completely unremarkable. Basic trainer gear, sport backpack, pokeball belt, fingerless gloves, cargo pants covered with pockets and a face that could blend in with a crowd anywhere. For some reason, Derrel could swear he had seen him somewhere before...one of the trainers he'd battled perhaps? He looked like he was just starting out...not trailworn yet, at any rate. Maybe he was from—

"And here we have...well, what's your name, son?" A voice thundered in his ear. Derrel jumped, and looked up. He was being addressed by the announcer. He blinked for a moment before he remembered the question.

"Uh. Derrel. My name's Derrel," answered Derrel.

"Splendid! Derrel, tell us where you're from!"

"I um, I'm from Littleroot. To the south."

"Aha, a local lad! Derrel, why'd you decide to join our little tournament tonight?"

Derrel blinked. He hadn't really thought about it. He frowned and answered "I needed something to do...and the prize money would be nice." He grinned sheepishly, realizing how foolish that sounded.

The announcer roared with laughter, prompting the crowd to join in. "We've got an honest one tonight! Well, good luck to you, Derrel!" The announcer moved down to the next in line. Derrel returned to trying to figure out where he knew the white-haired boy from.

"...another Littleroot lad, eh? Well good luck to you as well!" The mention of Derrel's hometown made him look up, and he realized the announcer was speaking to the white-haired boy. He had been right! He had also missed the boy's name. Oh well, you won some, you lost some.

His thoughts were interrupted as the announcer began speaking (shouting, really) again. "And for our final contestant...me! I'm Alex Stoker, and I'll be our eighth participant tonight!" And in a conspiratorial stage whisper he added, grinning, "Let's hope I actually get past the first match, eh boys?" This got a rumble of laughter from the crowd. "Okay! Up first, we've got the two Littleroot lads! Let's see what they have got in store for us!"

Derrel and his opponent stepped forward, taking their places at opposite ends of the makeshift ring. They both called their pokemon out, and eyed their opponent's. Derrel noted that his Torchic would be up against a Treecko, a large, green lizard pokemon, with an equally large leaf-shaped tail. A grass type…he had the advantage, then.

In a flash of insight, he bent down to his Torchic and whispered "He'll probably try to get close so you can't use your Ember attack. Keep your distance, okay?" His Torchic nodded and gave an affirmative "Tor!"

Alex the Announcer stepped in between the two pokemon. "On my mark! Three! Two! One! Fight!" He scuttled out of the way, not eager to get caught in between the two fighters.

The Torchic and Treecko stared each other down, waiting for the other to make the first move. Derrel's Torchic breathed deeply, preparing to breathe flame in case the lizard decided to charge. Other than that, he did nothing. The Treecko was beginning to appear agitated. Patience was clearly not its strong point; it was going to make the first move.

Torchic smiled a little bird-grin and exhaled, a little plume of fire escaping his mouth. Come and get me, it said. The Treecko's eyes narrowed and it did just that. Torchic stood his ground, waiting...waiting...just when the crowd was beginning to wince at the coming collision, he leaped, using his tiny wings to add height to his jump, spun around in midair, landed...and released a stream of flame straight into the Treecko's exposed back. The Treecko cried out in pain, and fell backward, trying to extinguish the blaze. Unfortunately for Torchic, he was standing right behind the Treecko, and suddenly found himself trapped underneath a wildly flailing tree lizard. He couldn't draw in enough air to form another stream of fire. He also couldn't draw in enough air to stay conscious. Little spots danced behind his eyes, and his vision began to go black...in a desperate attempt to breathe, he drew his head back, and slammed his beak into the Treecko's head. The back of the Treecko's head, already nicely crisped, responded to pain very acutely. The Treecko jerked and rolled off the bird. Torchic gasped, precious air filling his lungs. He struggled to his talons and stood, eying his opponent warily. An idea struck him...he stumbled, appearing dazed and injured, and staggered across the ring. The now sufficiently-recovered Treecko saw this, and wasted no time in charging once more. Just as he was about to reach Torchic, the Treecko raised his hands in anticipation of the Torchic's leap. He wasn't going to fall for that trick again! He grinned triumphantly, closing his hands on...air?

Torchic got up from his prone position to the Treecko's side, and quickly delivered a full body tackle to the lizard's back. He rebounded off, landing back on the ground. The Treecko stumbled forward and fell...and landed outside the ring.

Derrel beamed, and the audience cheered. He ran forward and scooped his Torchic up and hugged him. "You did great out there! That fake-out was amazing!" His expression faded a little as he saw the white-haired boy quietly cross to his Treecko and give him a small smile and a reassuring pat on the head. Derrel quickly crossed over to his defeated foe. "Hey," he said. The other boy turned and looked at him, and frowned a little. "Your pokemon did great out there. Not many grass-types can take an Ember like that and get back up. No hard feelings?" Derrel stuck his hand out.

The other boy smiled and shook Derrel's hand. "No hard feelings. Your pokemon beat mine in a fair fight." The other boy recalled his Treecko. "I've got to get him patched up. Maybe I'll see you around," he said, walking away toward the Pokemon Center.

Derrel waved goodbye, and the other boy had gone around the building before Derrel realized he still hadn't gotten the white-haired one's name. Derrel considered going to find him, but he needed to watch the next match. He would be facing its winner in the semifinals.

It was between a Zigzagoon and a Shroomish. Derrel glared at the Shroomish. Ever since that one had destroyed his pack, he hadn't been particularly fond of them. He cheered loudly when the Zigzagoon won by knockout after a brief, but intense battle.

The next two battles were won by a Poochyena and a Skarmory respectively. He didn't pay much attention to the Dark-type dog or the armored bird. He would only have to face them if he made it to the finals. As he had predicted, Alex the Announcer was been defeated in the first round but took it with good cheer. Derrel suspected he lost on purpose.

Before he knew it, Derrel was up to fight again, this time against the Zigzagoon. Derrel began whispering instructions to his Torchic, the Zigzagoon's owner doing the same. "Watch out for its tail. If it gets a good hit in on you, it's gonna knock you senseless, and out of the ring you go. Other than, you're on your own. Good luck!" Torchic chirped his acknowledgment.

The two combatants stepped into the ring. Unlike his previous battle, Torchic took the initiative. He darted forward, breathing a stream of fire as he went. The brown-and-white raccoon turned away and closed its eyes to protect them from the flame. It had merely been a diversion though, as Torchic leapt into the air and landed on the Zigzagoon. Before it figured out what had happened, the striped raccoon was on the receiving end of a very sharp beak to the skull. It fell to its side, rolling in an attempt to dislodge his avian passenger. Torchic had already dismounted however, and sent a spurt of flame at the Zigzagoon's exposed paws. The quadruped yelped and shot to its feet, only to cry out again as it's seared feet hit dirt. With its mobility now very limited, Torchic pressed his advantage, took a running start toward his disabled opponent. Just as his beak was about to connect with the Zigzagoon's skull, it whirled around, and slammed its tail into Torchic's body.. Torchic was propelled to the side, and landed hard, eyes unseeing. The Zigzagoon blinked, trying not to black out from the pain that little maneuver had caused to its charred paws. Torchic slowly rose to his feet, and eyed his opponent, respect evident in his features. He slowly backed away from his opponent, and when the back of his feet reached the edge of the ring, Torchic began to charge the Zigzagoon. The raccoon had watched Torchic's previous battle, and wasn't sure what to expect. As a result, he jumped both sideways, and into the air, screeching when his paws landed on the rocky dirt...but the Torchic was nowhere to be found. A sharp pain in his paw made him yowl, and glance down. The little bird had somehow avoided him and now had its beak sunk into his scorched paw. Seeing that his cover was blown, Torchic jerked his head upward and with a crack! it connected with the Zigzagoon's skull. It swayed back and forth, cross-eyed, finally decided it had taken enough and fell unconscious.

The crowd erupted, its cheering seeming far louder than thirty-odd people should have allowed. As the two trainers went into the ring Derrel shook his opponent's hand, and was met with a sullen "Congratulations." He shrugged when the trainer walked sulkily off to the Pokemon Center. Some people were just poor losers.

The last of the sunlight finally fled, and high-powered flashlights were placed in brackets around the ring and switched on. The lights cast harsh shadows on the two pokemon in the ring, now the other two semifinalists—the Poochyena and the Skarmory. Derrel watched this fight more closely than the rest, as he knew he'd be facing them one of them.

The result was rather unsurprising. As a Dark type, the Poochyena was at a severe disadvantage against the Flying/Steel Skarmory. The Poochyena's fangs couldn't puncture the metal bird's coat, and was left with try to ineffectively tackle the bird. The fight ended with the Skarmory simply blowing the Poochyena out of the ring with a blast from its powerful wings.

Derrel had noticed that the Skarmory tended to spend a lot of time in the air, and said as much to his Torchic. "Maybe if you keep it grounded, you'll be able to keep an advantage. Looks like this is gonna be a lot tougher than the other two. You still want to fight?"

Pokemon gave Trainer a withering look that clearly said What do you think?

Derrel smiled, "Hey, just making sure. Don't want you getting hurt, okay? Do your best and good luck! Lose or win, I'm rooting for you!"

Alex stepped into the ring between the two pokemon, and spoke, 'This is what it comes down to, ladies and gentlemen! The newcomer from Littleroot versus Old Man Gold himself!"

Derrel's eyes widened. He had been watching the pokemon, not the trainers. He hadn't realized who he was up against, but upon reflection it wasn't that surprising. It didn't make any difference at this point. All he could do was watch...

"On my mark! Three! Two! One! Fight!" Alex stepped out hurriedly.

Again, Torchic wasted no time in closing the distance between his opponent and himself. The Skarmory was ready for him, however, and took to the air. Torchic let out a stream of fire in desperation. He knew that if his enemy made it into the air, his chances of winning dropped significantly. Unfortunately, the fire did little more than lightly singe the Skarmory's underside. The Skarmory began flapping its wings faster, meaning to end the fight as quickly as possible, and shot a gust of wind at Torchic. More out of reflex than anything else, Torchic met the whirlwind with an Ember. The fire and wind met and created a small firestorm that passed harmlessly over the little fire-bird, much of the power having been lost when it absorbed the fire. The Skarmory growled, annoyed at having its attack nullified so easily, and tried the attack again with similar results. The metal bird changed tactics at the speed of light, and suddenly stopped flapping, and its wings flashed a silvery color. Torchic's eyes widened and he dove to the side just as the bird dove at him, meaning to cut him with the sharpened wings. It half managed it; a small stream of blood began flowing from a shallow cut on Torchic's chest. The Skarmory repeated the Steel Wing attack, getting closer and closer to Torchic each time. The little fire-bird was now covered in tiny cuts and scrapes, blood flowing freely.

Derrel watched with dismay. Wasn't there something his pokemon could do to turn things in his favor? Derrel frowned. Maybe there was...

"Torchic! Try to board it on the next pass!"

Torchic understood instantly what his trainer meant. As the Skarmory shot out of the air on an intercept course with Torchic once more, he stood his ground instead of diving away. At the last moment, he leapt...and landed on the Skarmory's back. The metal bird screeched at the unexpected passenger, and struggled to stay aloft with the extra weight. Torchic clutched the Skarmory's back with his tiny talons for all he was worth, being unable to do anything else. Finally, gravity won the battle against the Skarmory, and it plummeted to the ground, crashing noisily. Torchic tumbled off, and took a moment to discern which way was up. After accomplishing that, he stood and wobbled over to the still-dazed Skarmory.

He had to do...something. Something to stop the flying thing. Flying was...bad? Yes. Flying bad. The Skarmory's shifting form caught the light and its wings glinted. Torchic's addled mind came up with a solution to his problem.

He breathed fire point-blank at the Skarmory's wing. It screeched as the metal melted and reformed into a melted, folded mass. Torchic wasted no time, and began clawing and biting at the weak point. The Skarmory thrashed wildly, and managed to fling the Torchic away in its mad flapping. The Skarmory shakily rose to a standing position and glared at Torchic, who did the same. The Skarmory shut its eyes tightly and flung its injured limb outward...there was a snap and a crunch as the folded wing flew open and straightened itself. The Skarmory's eyes flew open in pain, and there was a groan from the crowd. Torchic winced.

The Skarmory spread its wings and took to the air again, favoring its injured wing, and flying in rather erratic directions. Torchic simply stared. Could nothing keep this thing down? The Skarmory, apparently satisfied with its height, struggled to face Torchic and began the familiar pattern of swooping down at him. Torchic prepared to jump sideways again, and was surprised when instead of spreading its wings, the Skarmory folded them in tightly and rocketed downward. With no time to react, Torchic took the runt of the blow as the Skarmory careened into both he and the ground with a crunch, and sent the two rolling. At some point during the roll, the two were disentangled from each other and lay, simply breathing. The crowd was stunned into silence and stared at the scene. You could have heard an ant sneeze.

"We've got a double KO! The first pokemon to rise will be declared the victor!," came the voice of Alex the announcer, breaking the silence and making half the crowd jump. Their stares soon returned to the two pokemon. The audience leaned in, to see who would rise first...

The Skarmory stirred. Its wings twitched and it raised its head and blinked muzzily at the crowd. Laboriously, it pulled its legs in, and put them on the ground, wings held out for balance…

...It straightened up and stood, chest heaving.

"Skarmory is the first to rise! Victory goes to Skarmory and Old Man Gold!" The crowd sat in silence for a moment before exploding into cheers, stamping their feet and whistling and hooting. Derrel noticed none of this, his world reduced to his Torchic lying on the ground. He suddenly found himself next to his pokemon, crossing the distance in moments. He gently picked up the little bird and cradled him close to his chest. Sound disappeared. His vision shrank to a tiny circle that encompassed his Torchic.

"Hey...Torchic. Wake up. Come on, you gotta wake up." The bird breathed, but remained otherwise motionless. "Torchic...come on! Wake up!" Derrel's voice broke, and a lump formed in his throat. His vision blurred. Why couldn't he see? "Come on buddy! Wake up! Please!" He was...crying?

Torchic groaned. He feebly opened his eyes. "...chic?"

Derrel fell to his knees and sobbed openly in relief. "You're okay! Don't do that to me! I...I thought I'd lost you..." The little bird managed a questioning chirp. Derrel, realizing what his pokemon was asking, smiled in response. "No, you didn't win. But that doesn't matter. You're okay. And you were amazing out there. I'm so proud of you..."

Suddenly, he became aware of people around him, and the world around him returned with a vague roaring sound, like distant waves breaking.

"...come on, let's get you to the Center..." It was Alex the announcer, with a hand on his shoulder, staring at him worriedly. Derrel saw a hand held out toward him and he grabbed it, shifting his Torchic to the other arm in the process. The arm was attached to Old Man Gold, who was beaming at him. Gold said something to him, but it sounded as though he were underwater and far away. Gold put his hand on Derrel's shoulder and guided him to the Pokemon Center. Derrel walked, feeling strangely detached, as though in a dream. He heard people talking around him and shooting him worried glances and he heard their words, but couldn't figure out what the meaning behind them...

"...probably his first real battle..."

"...must've been quite the shock..."

"He'll be okay, just have to..."

He wondered who they were talking about. When they reached the inside of the Center, he reluctantly gave his Torchic up to nurse behind the desk. He found himself in a chair beside a tiny bed. The room was dark, and had a feeling of massiveness. Where was he? He looked down, and discovered his Torchic asleep in a bed. How strange, he thought. He realized just how tired he was, and decided if he just rested his eyes for a moment...

…

Derrel opened his eyes and found that he couldn't move. He panicked, and thrashed, attempting to free himself from...

...bedsheets?

He stopped suddenly, and looked down at himself. He was in a tangled mess of sheets and a bedcover. He looked around, and saw that he was in a curtained off section of a room with a white tiled floor and white walls. His bed was framed in metal. So...a Pokemon Center then. His recollection of last night was fuzzy...how had he gotten here? He tried to piece together last night, and got as far as entering the Pokemon Center before giving up. He knew he had fought in a tournament, his Torchic hadn't gotten after it had been hit. Then he got to the Pokemon Center and...found his Torchic asleep in a bed...and then he had floating through clouds made, inexplicably, of white hair.

He frowned. That last bit didn't seem right. Even the bit with the Torchic and bed seemed implausible. He gave up trying to sort out which bits were dream and which were real. He tried to extract himself from his bedding, and ended up dangling from the bed by his feet. Pokemon Center beds seemed to have something against him. Maybe it was just omnidirectional anger at their occupants in general. At this thought, the sheets gave up trying to hold him and he thumped to the ground. Ow. Definitely some kind of grudge, anyway.

He rose to his feet and made his way to the hallway, grumbling about beds, grudges, and hairy clouds. The orderlies and other trainers gave him strange looks, but he ignored them. Eventually, after three wrong turns and two sets of conflicting directions, he found himself standing outside the Pokemon Ward. He pushed his way inside and found a room that was little more than a corridor filled with beds. Several of the beds had pokemon in them. He quickly spotted his Torchic, and grudgingly admitted to himself that that part had not been a dream, before striding over to his Torchic's side and sitting down in the handy chair.

His Torchic was wide-awake, and staring at him. He decided to break the silence. "What, no IV? I thought everybody knew if you ended up in a hospital, you had to have ridiculous injuries and hilarious stories. I'm disappointed!" His Torchic mock-glared at him before squeaking as he was enveloped in a hug. "So let's keep you out of here in the future, okay?" Torchic chirped his agreement. He hadn't liked the food, the pillows were uncomfortable and the TV was simply awful.

Derrel stopped a passing nurse to ask when his Torchic was free to go. He was subjected to the patented "Just a moment" which really meant "I'm not particularly interested, and I'll spend the next eighteen minutes chatting with friends, and the following two actually finding your papers." Twenty-three minutes later, his Torchic was perched on his shoulder and the two were headed into town for food. Apparently he his placing second in last night's tournament had netted him about a third of the prize money. Only fifteen dollars all together, but that was easily worth a hearty meal at the local pancake house.

Fifteen dollars and one large plate of pancakes later, he and his Torchic walked out of the eatery, a little on the heavier side and with vague smiles of the recently-fed. He had gotten about two blocks away when a hand landed heavily on his shoulder.

He turned around and was greeted by a smiling man, aged about fifty if the salt-and-pepper hair was any indication. Derrel recalled he knew him from somewhere. Somewhere recent...aha, that was it.

"You're Old Man Gold, right?" The man's smile widened.

"That's me. It's Derrel, isn't it? Call me Jeremy if you like—after that battle last night, you've earned it. Your Torchic is quite the hellbird! Haven't seen my Fina that close to losing in ages. She's one of my recent additions of course. It wouldn't be fair for me to put you youngsters against my tougher fighters."

Derrel blinked, and his brain held up part of the previous speech for his inspection. He obliged it. "Recent additions? The announcer said you were from Johto...so you're a trainer?"

The man's smile faded, and his eyes gained a faraway look. "Was. Got too old to be tramping all over the countryside. But I didn't stop you to tell you my life story! Look, your bird gave mine a real run for her money last night. I can tell you've got real potential. It looks like you're busy now, but if you're in the area later, look me up. I still remember a few tricks from my trainer years that'd be a help to you. You're staying in Oldale, right?"

Derrel was a bit disconcerted at the man's up-front manner. He selected his words carefully, as he found that he had an absurd desire to avoid disappointing the man. "I'm passing through. I was actually planning on leaving this morning."

Gold seemed disappointed but recovered quickly. "Ah well. Still, if you find yourself back here in the future, I'd like you to think about my offer. I won't keep you any longer; good luck!" And without a further word he turned and strode away, leaving Derrel alone once more. He blinked several times, trying to figure out what had just happened. He worked out that by losing to the old man, Derrel had earned his respect. He shrugged—who knew how people thought? Perhaps in other circumstances, he'd take Gold up on his offer, but for now the goal was Home.

And with that in mind, he set out for the city's edge, and Route 101. It was still approximately nine in the morning. If he kept up a decent pace, he'd be home by dusk.

…

It was later. Dusk had happened, and he was still not home. He felt like he had disturbed every wild pokemon between Oldale and Littleroot, and had more to go. The battles weren't difficult, they just never let up. His Torchic was exhausted, and he was irritated. The battles had gotten so frequent that Derrel had stopped bothering with Torchic's pokeball and just let the bird perch on his shoulder. And he could swear that more were following him. It seemed that he had heard the crunchcrunchcrunch of footfalls trailing him the entire way from Oldale. But every time he turned to look, there was nothing there. He imagined that once he caught a glint of silver, but put it down to his imagination.

He was prepared to call it a night when finally, he spotted a glimmer of light on the horizon. A minute's walking proved his suspicions to be correct—what he was seeing was indeed the outer limits of Littleroot.

Derrel let out a little groan of relief and relaxed. Finally, after all this he'd have a chance to sit in a comfortable chair, and eat a home-cooked meal, and sleep in a bed that didn't have something against him, and shower as long as he liked and...

He was so lost in dreamland that he didn't notice the footsteps behind him, at least not until their owner had slammed the butt of their pistol over his Torchic's head. He spun around just in time to receive a roundhouse punch to the nose. He staggered backward and tripped, landing next to his fallen Torchic. His nose was bleeding and his vision had gone blurry. What—

His attacker spoke. "Finally! Do you know, kid, that you are the most watchful little bastard I've ever trailed? Nearly lost you a few times. Now, down to business. It's very simple. You're going to give me your pokemon. If you don't, I'm going to shoot you and take it anyway. Capiche?"

Derrel's eyes focused enough to make out the silhouette of a man pointing a gun at him. In his weary and pain-addled mind, the only thing that got through to him was "give me your pokemon", and he knew only one response to such a ridiculous request.

"Nngh." What was supposed to be a clear and defiant "No" had turned into more of a grunt. However, it seemed to do the trick, because the bandit rolled his eyes and sighed.

"They never say yes. They could make it easy and say yes, but no. Gotta be heroes. Never mind that they can't stand, no. You'd think building a reputation as a pokemon bandit would be enough but noooo..."

Derrel found time to struggle to his feet as the bandit ranted. It occurred to him that the man probably had a few screws loose. Probably a couple of bolts and a girder in the deal too. All this thought took place in the back of his mind. The only thing he was actively thinking was much less coherent. He swung his fist clumsily at the bandit, and growled as it was easily caught.

"Well, looks like you picked the hard way. That means it's shootin' time!" the bandit crowed. The prospect seemed to amuse him. The urgent warnings Derrel's brain was attempting to send him finally managed to break through his befuddlement. He realized he was what the experts referred to as "deep shit".

He heard the hammer of the pistol click as the bandit leveled it at him. He saw the bandit's finger began to squeeze the trigger. He shut his eyes tight, waiting for the—

BANG!

He jerked, collapsed...

...and realized his ear hurt like blazes. He reached up, and touched the area, to find a sliver of his upper earlobe missing. His fingers came away bloody.

Wait, pain. Pain was good, right? It meant he was still alive. Come to think of it, did guns usually make a sound like one body hitting another and grunting when they fired? No, that didn't seem right at all. He turned and looked at where the bandit had been and his eyes widened in shock. In the brilliant moonlight, was a scene that along with the click, he would remember for years to come. It was both wildly unexpected, and breathtakingly awe-inspiring.

There was the bandit, lying on his back, arms splayed to the sides.

And sitting atop him, was Guide, her white fur brilliant in the moonlight, her hand-spikes shining as though lit from within. Her face was contorted in a mask of fury, her lips pulled back in a snarl. But the thing that struck him most was her eyes. The depths of rage and fury shining from them made Derrel shiver in a way that had nothing to do with the chill. Guide drew her fist back, and slugged the thief hard in the cheek. The rest of his body jerked. She punched again, once, twice, and when she brought her fist back for a third punch, Derrel swore he saw it glow with bluish-black fire. Suddenly, there was a flash of light and a roar. The next thing Derrel knew, Guide had collapsed, onto the ground, and the bandit was holding his smoking gun and panting.

Derrel was not a very violent boy. He had never harmed another living creature larger than a bug if he could help it, and the sight of blood made him a little queasy. But something inside him clicked when he saw Guide fall. The next thing he knew, he was sprinting at the bandit, and had delivered a vicious kick—crunch!—to the side of the bandit's head, and fell onto his chest, pummeling him. He eventually stopped, panting heavily, before his ragged mind took back over. He looked at his bloody hands and at the bandit's face and froze. He saw the man's chest rise and fall imperceptibly and relaxed. Just unconscious...at this, he froze all over again, and his head whipped around to look at the fallen Guide. He stumbled over to her, knelt by her side and cried out when he saw the heavily bleeding wound on her chest just below the silvery spike. He took a deep breath and felt her neck for a pulse...for an excruciating several seconds, he felt nothing...and then, a weak thump...thump. His heart leapt. She was alive, but he had to get help fast. He glanced at the still visible lights of Littleroot and recalled his Torchic. He stored the pokeball on his belt and heaved the fallen Guide onto his shoulder. He stumbled and nearly collapsed. She was heavy! He gritted his teeth and stood upright. Blind determination and stubbornness and adrenaline and fear fueled him, transcending mere physical strength. He began to run...

…

He was running. Running as fast as he could. He didn't know from what he ran, just that if he stopped that the consequences would be terrible. Everything around him was black—the ground, the sky, and everything in between. The only thing he could see clearly was himself. He looked down, suddenly aware that he was carrying something, and that he could see that too. In his arms, he was cradling his Torchic, still as death. Suddenly, the bird's eyes shot open. They were red, with vertical cat's-eye pupils. The Torchic opened his beak as if to speak...

Click.

…

Derrel's eyes shot open, and somebody dressed in white ran into the room, and shouted something. Derrel stared, uncomprehending.

"Sir, are you okay? I heard a shout..." Derrel blinked, the words taking some time to reach his brain. Eventually, his tortured mind formulated a response.

"Uh…yeah. I'm, I'm okay. Yeah. Um….where am I?" The person in white blinked. Nurse, Derrel realized. She was a nurse...which meant that he was in...

"You're in Littleroot's Pokemon Center sir. You ran in last night, carrying your pokemon," she explained. Slowly, Derrel recalled last night's events. He winced as he remembered.

"I made it? Carried her all the way?" he mumbled.

"There was nobody else with you, so we assumed so." That explained why his shoulders and back hurt like hell. "After you brought her in, we bandaged her up as best we could. We tried to do the same to you, but after she came out of surgery, you refused to leave her side. Eventually, we just did what we could right here." It occurred to Derrel that he was sitting on something. A chair to be precise, one of those cheap plastic hospital chairs...that explained the crick in his neck. He reached up and felt the tip of his right ear. It was swathed in gauzy cloth, and was painful to the touch. He winced again as he remembered what caused it.

There was something he was forgetting, something important. It was just out of reach of his frazzled brain...

Derrel's head whipped around to look at the bed he was sitting next to. There, her chest covered in bandages, lay the still form of Guide. Her breathing was steady and even. If not for the layer of white bandages wrapped around her torso, Derrel would have thought her merely asleep.

"Is she..." he began, unable to continue the thought.

"...going to be just fine," the nurse finished, "We removed the bullet from her sternum, and stopped the bleeding. The bone is fractured, and it'll take the puncture wound a while to heal, but as long as she takes it easy, she'll be okay." The nurse seemed looked uncertain for a moment, and glanced around before continuing, "I've never seen a pokemon like her before. What is she? The x-rays showed that her bones were some kind of bone-and-steel alloy...that's what saved her life. She's practically bulletproof."

Derrel considered his words carefully. He knew that Guide's actions were unbelievable, and he had no desire to be labeled a crazy. "I don't know. All I know is that she saved me, and I owe her my life." Just enough truth to be believable, but not enough to be impossible.

The nurse's face fell, disappointment evident. "Didn't you scan her with your Pokedex?"

Derrel blushed, "I couldn't afford one," he mumbled. This was not exactly true—his mother was simply believed that spending money on a device that he'd use for a month, and then shelf the second he inevitably came home was not worth the price tag. Derrel didn't know this, just that his mother had vaguely mentioned money—though never a lack of it. Had he paused to think about the actual wording, he would have realized that her excuse was little more than a statement about the existence of money in general. His lack of such an essential trainer's tool was a source of shame nonetheless.

The nurse frowned, but evidently realized she was treading in sensitive territory, and wisely backed out. "Well, I believe that's all. If you have any more questions, just let me, or one of the nurses know." And with that, she left the room, the door shutting with a snick.

It clanged open seconds later at the shoving of an extremely enthusiastic looking young man. He walked—no, marched—over to where Derrel sat, with a very determined expression. Derrel gaped, in a kind of apprehensive amazement. The young man stopped just short of where Derrel was sitting, and simply stared for a moment before speaking.

"I knew it! You're the guy from last night!," The young man exclaimed, seemingly very proud of this simple statement. "Hey guys, come in! It's him!" Two more adolescents entered, staring at Derrel with the sort of reverential gaze usually reserved for kings, or particularly good acrobats.

Derrel blinked. "Am I?"

The first of the trio spoke, "Dude, don't you remember? You barged in here last night, covered in blood, carrying your pokemon, screaming about a bandit and a gun and," he leaned closer, lowering his voice, "is it true that you saved your pokemon, and fought off that bandit guy's entire team with nothing but your bare hands?"

Derrel stared at them, uncomprehending for a moment. Nobody else had even been out there. How did rumors like this even get started…? And they actually believed it! He considered his options before answering, very diplomatically, "…something like that, yeah."

The trio looked at each and grinned, before their leader held up his fist knuckles-first toward Derrel. "Dude. Pound it."

Derrel raised his own fist and, very gingery, "pounded it". It appeared that the three were about to begin grilling Derrel about his "epic battle" the night before, when the door burst open again to admit a very stout, angry-looking nurse. To call her stout wasn't quite fair. She wasn't fat, simply very large…and very, very intimidating. If she hadn't been employed as nurse, she probably would have ended up as a bouncer.

She also had a voice that didn't just project, it presented. In surround sound. "What did I tell you three about harassing the poor boy? He's had a difficult time, and he needs his rest!" And with that, she dragged the three admirers out of the room, bodily. On her way out she shot Derrel an apologetic look. Derrel responded with something bordering on disbelief, and a little fear.

A noise from behind him caused Derrel to turn back to Guide's bed. She was stirring and as he watched, her eyes slowly opened. She stared at the ceiling before blinking twice in incomprehension. She turned to her left, and her eyes fell upon Derrel's face.

Derrel's eyes widened and he beamed, visibly relieved. "You're awake," he said softly. She simply smiled, took his hand into hers, and squeezed gently. What she did next came as a shock to Derrel.

"Thank you," she said.

Notes: And that's the first chapter. There may be more, possibly not. If you'd like to leave some feedback, go ahead and review. If not, thanks for reading this far anyway.