Disclaimer: Pokémon isn't mine.

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"Seventy-one, seventy-two, seventy-three… done. All here." Anthony How stood and stretched. "Another day with no casualties." He felt… relieved. That was the word. There wasn't any reason to feel that way- after all, his uneasy feeling all week had been just that, a feeling- but he finally felt as if he would no longer have to jump every time he heard a footstep, or freeze whenever somebody mention debt, or pokémon, or-

"Hi, Mr. How." This time, when Anthony froze, it was quite literal. Before the poor man had time to marvel at the fact that he hadn't heard the bell by the door ring, or wonder where he had heard that particular voice before, there was a block of ice covering every inch of his body.

The girl standing in the corner of the room frowned. "I think you overdid it a little, Maj," she muttered to the creature standing beside her. She was answered by a series of angry sounds (not that a weavile ever doesn't sound angry) that, if translated into English, probably would have included quite a few four-letter words inappropriate for children's ears. The girl endured her pokémon's verbal abuse a few moments before interrupting. "At least uncover his face, 'kay? It's kinda hard to talk to him like that. And I think he's suffocating."

The weavile grumbled a while longer, but the ice slowly started to melt away from the man's face.

The girl stepped forward, so that she was sure the man could see her clearly. "Now, Mr. How, we have some business to discuss."

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"Yesterday evening Anthony How, beloved owner and manager of Petalburg City's Poké Mart, was found in critical condition in his own store. He suffered from severe hypothermia, presumably caused by an attack from an ice type pokémon. All of his own pokémon were missing, the money in the cash register was gone, and the store had been completely wrecked."

"Oh, no!" My mother had walked into the room, and was staring at the television with a cross between fascination and horror.

"Mo-om…" I broke in, already knowing what was next.

"And right when you're going to Petalburg. Imagine!" She was about to use her worry about my safety as a disguise to guilt trip me. I could tell. I turned back to the TV, determined to ignore whatever she said.

"Anthony How is a respected man in our community. Besides being the owner of Petalburg's Poké Mart, he is well known for being an outstanding pokémon trainer. Last year he powered his way through the entire Elite Four, although he was at last defeated by the champion. This February he announced plans to quit training and settle down with his fiancée."

Mom's voice broke through the sound of the TV again. "You know, I'd feel a lot better if you had your own team of pokémon to take with you." I briefly considered pointing out that the attacked man was supposedly a very powerful pokémon trainer, then decided it wasn't worth it. "I know you take Oceancracker with you on these trips, but he's not much protection, and I know you hate him."

Oceancracker is Mom's rapidash (don't ask where she got the name. I don't know, either.) A few years ago, when I was eleven years old, she tried to give him to me to be my "partner on my pokémon journey". I told her thanks but no thanks, I wasn't interested. Unfortunately, somewhere in the three feet between me and her the message apparently changed from "I'm not really that excited by the thought of traveling around the country yelling orders at non-human creatures" to "I specifically hate your rapidash" and since then she's been trying to find the perfect pokémon for me. I really wish she wouldn't. I don't dislike them, really. They are here, and we are here, and so we coexist. I just don't see why that line between coexisting and becoming battling partners needs to be breached.

Mom waited for a few seconds, apparently waiting for me to respond. Then she sighed. I took that as a sign that she had made her point and the lecture was over, and shot out of my seat, simultaneously pulling on my coat and grabbing my bags. Mom's pokémon lectures can last up to an hour, and if she was going to end this one this early I wasn't giving her time to reconsider. After managing to put on my backpack, throw an empty duffel bag over my shoulder, and hook Cracker's pokéball to my belt without any protest from my mother, I headed for the door. I didn't look back at her, because after these talks Mom always has this sad look, like I've disappointed her horribly by not sharing her love for pokémon. I only took the time to call out, "Bye, Mom! I love you!" before shutting the door behind me.

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Let me first say that I truly didn't hate Cracker when Mom offered to give him to me. I didn't know him yet. In fact, I had honestly considered taking him, because he was pretty and I was young enough to be impressed by that. But now I'm glad I refused. Oceancracker is, honest to Mew, the meanest, worst tempered pokémon you've ever met. I haven't made a single trip to Petalburg in which he hasn't tried to throw me at least three times before we had even reached Oldale Town. I used to complain about it, but my mom would only laugh and say that it helped me build physical stamina. I don't think she's ever tried to ride a tame ponyta before, let alone one that doesn't want to be ridden.

So I'm being honest when I say it was only by luck that I made it to Petalburg City in one piece. When we finally reached the city Cracker was galloping at full speed, and I was latched onto his neck, screaming, all dignity gone.

We could possibly have continued that way through the entire city and then past it, until Cracker ran out of energy (and I abandoned his sorry butt wherever it was we ended up and walked back home) if it weren't for some good Samaritan who saw us and decided to help (as opposed to most of the people who were either watching, awestruck, or laughing hysterically). I'm not sure exactly what happened, but the next thing I knew I was on the ground and there was an ursaring holding Cracker a foot off the ground. For a few seconds I lay still, stunned. Then a boy, I guess the ursaring's trainer, appeared in front of me. "Are you gonna call your rapidash back, or what?" he asked, frowning.

That snapped me out of…whatever it was I had been suffering from. I fumbled with the pokéball for a second, and then managed to point it at Cracker and whisper, "Oceancracker, return," as quietly as I could. Cracker was returned to his pokéball, where he could do relatively little harm, but the boy was still standing there, staring incredulously. I groaned, already guessing what he was about to say.

"Oceancracker? What kind of name is that?" Apparently my whispering hadn't been quiet enough.

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AN: Reviews with any kind of criticism are appreciated. Even if you think it just sucks, tell me so. I can take it, I promise.