Author's Note: Sorry about the wait. This chapter was cursed – my hard drive corrupted and I lost a month's worth of work, site failures abounded whenever I wanted to post, and then I discovered that this site ate thousands of words off my final doc manager draft of the story. I've had to rewrite parts of this so many times it's not even funny. In the end I persevered, but it'll be up to you guys to decide if it was worth it. Now please, enjoy your read!

THE MORTAL EARTH


Chapter Three: Lessons of the Wild


The sun rose over the rim of the earth, dawning across Petalburg. It cast its light on the trade ships docked at the harbor and the four spiking towers of the city gym, relieving both sailors on night watch and the tower guards keeping vigil over the city. It ignited the gold-plated roof of the mansion where the local magistrate lived aloof with his servants, and it stirred chanting from the world shaper shrine where monks prayed twenty-four seven to defer the end times. The ocean turned from blood red to glittering blue as the sun rose higher, scorching the city.

The sun hit a crowded street and trickled sweat down Ash's temple. Sweat jewels splattered onto the Swablu perched on his wrist; she drooped but otherwise had given up drying her feathers. Not even noon and they were already seared and sticky – Ash briefly wished he was back in temperate Kanto. Sighing in the humid heat, he tugged at the t-shirt stuck to his skin and continued his talk with a street seller.

"No, I'm not interested in razz berries," Ash shook his head and indicated the pyramids of berries stacked behind the street seller. "I'd like to see those, back there. The berries with the green skin."

The street seller frowned, wrinkles bunching her face. "Micle berries?" She pointed at a small pyramid near swallowed by surrounding stacks of oran berries.

"Yeah." Ash flashed a grateful smile as the woman passed over a sample. "Are they new?"

She nodded.

Ash held up the berry, eying it. It reminded him of a lime, deep green with bumpy skin. Budded leaves were still attached to the stem. He sniffed it.

"It's safe," the street seller said. "Greenhouse grown, but its genetics are nothing outside the Rivière Protocol."

Ash hummed in absent agreement. Around him, the market jostled with Petalburg's morning shoppers. Heaps of coconuts filled the street in haphazard pyramids, and woks flamed as sellers splashed glass noodles into hot oil. Sagging tarps shaded the street stalls with painted advertisements and the peeling face of the former champion. A man hustled past, dragging a golden Mareep as it bleated in protest, weaving its leash around the legs of disgruntled shoppers; women carrying sun parasols quarreled with a nearby street seller over the price of Overgrow-harvested rice.

Ash did his best to ignore the headache-inducing commotion and think over his options.

The berry was cool in his palm. Another feat of genetic engineering by Lysandre Labs, just like the bulk of the berries hawked in the market. Decades ago, biologists had discovered that crops cultivated by grass-types were supercharged with nutrients beneficial to pokémon maturation; the genetic engineering of berries began not long after as corporations pressured their grass-type pokémon to produce new and even more nutrient-rich varieties they could turn for a profit. Corporate dynasties rose and fell, but trainers remained devoted to ensuring the peak condition of their pokémon, and soon engineered berries were sold worldwide. Lysandre Labs had emerged as the frontrunner in the market.

Ash wondered which berries would best aid his team's development. The Petalburg market, from what he could tell, was limited to medicinal berries, rather than developmental ones. Oran, sitrus, and pecha varieties were useful, but potions were far more potent and – thanks to the discount he received from being a licensed trainer – almost as cheap.

He looked up at the street seller. "What's this one do?"

"Micle? They're dense with cholinergics and other compounds meant to aid the development of motor control. Excellent for trainers teaching their pokémon long-range attacks." The street seller saw him start, then beamed, sure of a sale. "Lysandre Labs recommends one berry a day to supplement a pokémon's normal diet. But buy a month's supply! Less and they won't make a difference."

Ash thought for a moment. "Double that, please. I have two pokémon."

Minutes later Ash was squeezing through the crowd, a shopping bag in one hand and his Swablu perched on the other. Her small talons hurt, but worse was her tendency to sink them into his skin whenever she was spooked – he winced as he remembered her attempt to perch on his shoulder last night. He had since asked her to stay on his hand, where his fingerless gloves afforded some protection, if he wasn't wearing his bone-plated vest.

He glanced down at the Swablu, who was looking at the hundreds of people thronging around them with wide eyes. Tried to remember the nickname she had agreed on last night as he was drifting off to sleep. Cirrus? He thought that was it – though he had the uneasy sense that she wouldn't correct him if he was wrong.

"Not used to people, huh?" he said.

Cirrus shuddered in response.

The two had spent the morning stocking up for the journey through Petalburg Woods. Now, Ash wound through the street market sea, jostled by its current into the boulevard beyond. The clangor of traffic greeted him, beach-goers and commuters choking the great boulevard. Pedestrians and bicycles, tusky grey Donphan and huge lumbering Tropius.

Ash groaned at the traffic-filled walk ahead of him. But to his surprise, it was an adventure – around every corner he spotted strange pokémon he'd never seen before. He was constantly firing up his pokédex, and had just identified a Plusle when he turned the corner onto May's street.

Old, colonial-style beachhouses stood before him. The clangor of Petalburg's commercial heart had faded as he approached the ocean, and now it was washed over by the whisper of waves. He passed rows of verandas, lush gardens with the sweet scent of hibiscus, and cherry blossom trees bordering wide balconies. Ash wondered at the wealth displayed before him. Wondered at the idea of defeating May's dad, whose skill on the battlefield granted him access to such wealth. It was both awe-inducing and terrifying.

He came up on a three-story house, olive green and guarded by Kangaskhan statues. The door creaked open and a Torchic scurried out, hopping up and down to welcome him. Ash waved at May, who was standing at the doorway.

"Morning, Ash! You're just in time for breakfast," May said. She was still dressed in her pajamas, midway through brushing dark tangles out of her hair.

Ash set his bag on the veranda and let her usher him inside. "Has Brendan woken up yet? Your family?"

He had arrived with May too late last night to be introduced – the house was dark and silent by the time they let themselves in. He was excited at the prospect of meeting a gym leader face-to-face. Every time he'd accompanied his mom on shopping trips to Viridian, he'd craned his neck in the crowds looking for Giovanni, but never had any luck.

May nodded. "We're all awake. My mom and brother are setting the table in the back garden, and Brendan's playing with his Lotad in the tub upstairs. My dad left for his gym before dawn. I don't think even you were up early enough to catch him."

Ash hid a pang of disappointment. "I expected as much," he managed. "You buy your ticket to Dewford yet?"

"Mm-hmm. The ferry leaves tomorrow." She glanced at him shyly. "Are you still set on leaving for Rustboro today? I'd love the company if you want to come along."

He shook his head. "Sand and saltwater aren't a good idea if I want to get my team trained up. I'm … distractible."

"The rainforest also has distractions, you know, just of the thunderstorms and savage Vigoroth kind." May wrinkled her nose. "I didn't realize I had befriended a lunatic until you told me you were even considering traveling through Petalburg Woods."

"Hold on, you'll call me out for that but give Brendan a pass? He's the real lunatic – I'm not the guy who refers to his suntanning as 'photosynthesis.'" Ash said.

May laughed, and she was about to speak again when a holler rang through the house. "Breakfast time! May, get all your friends out here! And don't forget Dunce!"

"That'd be my mom." May rolled her eyes. "She wants me to fetch the family Dunsparce … but um," – she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and fidgeted – "I don't know if we'll have a chance to talk alone again, so I just want to say it was nice to get to know you. Maybe we'll run into each other on our journeys."

"Maybe we will," Ash said.

May hesitated, watching him as if she was waiting for something, until the silence started to stretch. Then she gave Ash a small smile and said quietly, "All right."

She turned away, and with her departure Ash was reminded of how alone he had been back in Pallet, when Gary was his only friend in the world; of the other kids ignoring him in their games of tag because of his friendship with the village bully; of his dreams of one day having pokémon of his own so he'd never feel isolated again.

Why limit his new friendships to pokémon?

"I'd like that," Ash called out. "If we did run into each other again."

May turned back to him, her bright blue eyes meeting his own. They smiled at each other, and though Ash was certain he looked foolish, he couldn't find it in himself to care.

~O~

Ash drifted through the Maple family home en route to the garden, peering down hallways and gawking at the collection of ancient katana that adorned the walls. It seemed Norman had a fascination with the samurai of his homeland. He was curious at the Imperial household, curious to see if the people of Johto really did hang up maps of the world with three continents marked as the Imperium's territory. Everyone in Kanto swore it was true.

Cirrus, as a former wild pokémon, had never been in a human household let alone an Imperial one. She was perturbed by the katana but reacted to other items she spotted much worse – such as the clothes iron and oven – requiring reassurance from Ash that they weren't the tools of torture she imagined. The Swablu listened to his words without burrowing into his t-shirt, but her talons remained tightened around his wrist.

Ash didn't find the rumored map, but he did stop for a moment to stare at a photo of a man – May's dad? – shaking hands with Champion Lance. Reminded himself to ask May later if she'd met any of his idols. Her father was the former gym leader for Olivine City, so there was a decent chance she knew most of the Silver League.

Too bad Dad was never successful. I'm the only nobody in this house.

He winced at the thought. It was unfair. May didn't deserve jealousy as thanks for her hospitality, and his dad … he had tried. That didn't make the truth less hurtful, but Ash told himself it was enough.

It had to be.

He was still pensive when he stepped into the house garden, eyes widening as he gazed out at the glittering expanse of the sea. The morning was much like it was at the height of Kanto summers, cirrus clouds scudding in the high blue sky as the wind swept ships through whitecaps into the Petalburg harbor. A breeze kissed him. Scents of lily and citrus drifted gently from the garden.

"It's a good view, isn't it?"

Ash nodded absently before blinking to attention. Fringed by the garden, a table was laden with strawberries and cardamom biscuits and chocolate porridge. A red-haired woman fluttered around it, adjusting silverware, but she didn't seem to have spoken to him.

"Up here! You're a bit slow on the uptake, huh?"

Ash frowned as he finally spotted a kid perched in the orange tree beside him. He was tiny – he couldn't be much older than twelve – and had a devilish grin in his bespectacled eyes. Deciding to ignore the jibe, he waved at the kid. "You must be Max, May's little brother."

"I've got to hand it to you, at least you can put two and two together," Max said begrudgingly. He leapt down from the tree. "You must be the pity pick."

"Hey! I'm not anyone's pity pick. I don't know where you got that impression, but it's wrong." Ash crossed his arms, causing Cirrus to flinch at the unexpected movement.

Max pushed up his glasses. "It's a trivial deduction. Out of all the upcoming trainers that applied to be sponsored by Professor Birch, only Brendan and my sister passed the qualifying exam – and I should mention that my sister only passed because I helped her study. Birch always picks an applicant that has 'overcome hardship' to get the last sponsorship in situations like this, which if you ask me is stupidly sentimental, but it is his modus operandi. Therefore, because you didn't pass the exam but still have Birch's sponsorship, you must be the pity pick."

Ash stared at him for a heartbeat before bursting into laughter. He'd been bracing himself for something with a sliver of truth. "Clever kid," he said, ruffling Max's hair. "But I think you forgot something."

"I didn't forget anything." Max scowled at him and ducked away from Ash's hand. "Stop ruffling my hair like I'm a baby! Let out your pokémon and let's go eat already."

"What if I didn't take Professor Birch's qualifying exam, Max?" He unclipped Oblivion's pokéball from his belt and let it quiver in his hand. He felt a little bad teasing the kid, but in fairness Max had tried it on him first.

Max froze. "You didn't take the exam? Then … that means you have a sponsorship that was transferred to Birch from another professor," he said with horror. "Of course! How could I be so stupid!"

The door to the house had opened during his deduction, and May and Brendan appeared. May carried a Dunsparce that was so comatose Ash would have thought it was dead had he not known better.

"Do I see a speechless Max before me? Maybe I can actually eat my breakfast in peace," Brendan said.

Max whipped his head around and glared at Brendan. "Maybe if you didn't pretend to know everything about pokémon just because you're the professor's son, I wouldn't need to correct you all the time."

"What? Of course I know everything about pokémon. I'm the professor's son," Brendan said with a straight face. "For example, did you know that Pikachu have a special evolution they can access when they're fed enough sweet and fluffy round pancakes?"

Max let out a strangled choke. "Evolution has no correlation to pancakes whatsoever, let alone fluffy pancakes, you – you imbecile! Why, if you had even bothered to read Professor Rowan's Treatise on Evolution, you self-proclaimed 'pokémon expert,' you'd know –"

Ash watched the rant continue with a raised eyebrow. He noticed Brendan didn't bother to defend pancakes as a valid evolutionary method – he just stood there with a dumb grin. After a minute of Max ranting so rapidly it was garble to Ash, he caught May's eye and jerked his head towards the table. She nodded and looped around the rant. Walked with him to greet May's mom.

"Brendan's needling Max again, Mom."

May's mom sighed as she poured herself a mug of steaming coffee. "Thank you, dear, but I can hear it clear as a bell. Unfortunately." She took a long drink before her eyes widened at the sight of Ash. "Oh? You must be May's new friend."

Ash inclined his head. "I'm Ash, and this is my newest team member, Cirrus. Pleasure to meet you."

"Please call me Caroline." She smoothed her apron. "I'd hoped we could all eat together, but once Max gets going, it usually takes threats from Norman for him to stop. He doesn't listen unless his gym apprenticeship is affected."

"Gym apprenticeship?" Ash frowned. He knew that gym leaders tended to train their successors, but to start so early? Max couldn't even train pokémon legally yet. And then there was May. "Isn't it Imperial tradition for familial gyms to be passed to the oldest child?"

May gave him a tight-lipped smile. "My dad believes in merit more than tradition."

Oh. He didn't know what to say.

Caroline saved him. "Why don't you two go feed your pokémon? I cooked some chow for them. Ash, I wasn't sure what to make for your starter based on May's description of him, but I thought he might like a favorite of my husband's Linoone."

With that, she turned from them and put her hands on her hips. "Max! Cut it out right this second or so help me I will drag you to your father and get you to explain what you did wrong in front of all his gym trainers! And don't look so smug, Brendan! You'll be helping me with the dishes when this is over!"

Ash grinned and was about to make a joking comment to May when he realized she was hunched at the table, feeding her Torchic a biscuit and avoiding eye contact.

He looked down at Dunce on the chair beside him. "Is she okay?" he asked.

The Dunsparce stared at him.

"… Right. Don't know what I was expecting there."

He shook off a faint sense of apprehension and tossed Oblivion's pokéball into the sky, grinning as his starter coalesced before him. He didn't know if he'd ever get used to the thrill that raced through him from releasing his pokémon.

The Type: Null glanced at his surroundings, then growled upon sighting the Swablu perched on Ash's wrist. Ash had introduced him to Cirrus earlier, but so far Oblivion had only snarled and snapped at his new teammate.

"Sorry you couldn't come along to the street markets today," Ash said. "But I told you about the man we ran into last night. It's not wise for you to appear too much in public as long as we're in Petalburg."

Oblivion huffed. He stalked over to the table and picked up a basket of cardamom biscuits with his mouth, disappearing into the jasmine bushes with them.

"Hey! I'm going to be the one that has to answer to Caroline for that!"

A snort of derision came from the bushes.

Ash pinched the bridge of his nose. "He's not always like this, Cirrus, I promise." He rummaged through his pockets and offered her a micle berry. "Here. Why don't you eat this and find the food Caroline set out for you? I'm going to talk with Oblivion for a minute."

Cirrus took the berry with her beak and fluttered off to the table, where Ash could see May give her family a watery smile as they settled in to eat. He hoped the Swablu wouldn't be frightened by the breakfast commotion. She had a tendency to flinch whenever he moved unexpectedly, as if she was expecting to be hit.

We have a lot of work ahead of us before we're ready for the first gym.

He sighed. Shoved through the jasmine bushes and cursed at the twigs tangling in his hair. He emerged into a glade shaded by bamboo, their stalks rustling in the breeze. Under the swaying shadows, Oblivion huddled.

"Oblivion?"

The Type: Null watched him warily. The fur on his back stood on end as he growled at his trainer. Tossed into the bamboo behind him was the stolen basket, uneaten biscuits scattered on the leaf-littered soil.

"C'mon, Oblivion, we're missing breakfast," Ash said. "I don't know what's gotten you into this mood, but surely we can work it out later?"

Oblivion's eyes flashed beneath the darkness of his mask. His fur bristled.

"Guess not." Ash exhaled. He hadn't seen the Type: Null like this since their last night on the S.S. Cactus. It was a discomfiting reminder that unlike May with her Torchic or Brendan with his Treecko, his relationship with Oblivion struggled beneath the weight of secrets left unspoken. He had admitted to himself that it bothered him – he longed for the day Oblivion trusted him unconditionally – but trust took time. His only choice was to be the best trainer he could for the Type: Null until the day he was ready to be questioned about his origins.

If Ash was honest, he wasn't yet ready to confess his full history to his team either. He didn't have secrets, but he knew that vocalizing old hurts tested how truly they had bled dry.

He took another step into the glade. "This isn't about having to stay in your pokéball while we're in Petalburg, is it?"

Oblivion kept growling.

"Are you upset that Cirrus joined the team?"

Deeper growls, and the hiss of leaves in the breeze. Oblivion's green eyes flickered between Ash and their surroundings, the swaying bamboo and the shriek of a Wingull overhead. His muscles were tense. Ash had the feeling that if a shadow shifted the wrong way, the Type: Null would strike in a whirlwind of claws and fangs.

He would have laughed were the circumstances less unsettling. Oblivion, who couldn't be caged by less than twelve men, who shredded steel through sheer determination, who terrified other rookie trainers, was twitching at shadows.

"Listen, Oblivion, I may not know what's going on in your head right now, but we're friends," Ash tried. "You can trust me."

The Type: Null swung his metal mask in fierce disagreement.

At least he didn't growl at me this time.

Ash grimaced, thinking. He had told Oblivion about the pale man last night, the man with the Beheeyem whose fingers flashed red-green-yellow, but the Type: Null had just blinked at him blearily before falling back asleep. He had assumed that the Type: Null was unconcerned with his pursuer, but perhaps the ramifications only dawned on him this morning.

"It's the pale man, isn't it?" he said. "You're upset that he's appeared, and you … recognize him. You must."

The growls ebbed into silence. Ash heard laughter and the cry of Brendan's Treecko from beyond the jasmine bushes; their merriment felt a world away.

Oblivion regarded him from the deep shadows, green eyes glimmering beneath his mask. He shivered. Then the shiver strengthened into a shudder, and the Type: Null let out a low miserable whimper as he curled into a ball and suddenly his whole body was shuddering and the whimpers became a ceaseless whine.

Ash swallowed, his throat dry, glad the shadows hid his expression. Part of him wanted to avert his eyes, to protect Oblivion's privacy – to protect Oblivion's pride. But though he was blind, in the dark as to the history between the Type: Null and the pale man, Oblivion's troubles were no longer his own. That night in the storm, he had rescued Oblivion and against all common sense tied their fates together.

He wouldn't walk away from him now.

Ash stooped down to sit beside Oblivion, letting dark fur scratch against his arms. He reached out a hand and stroked the Type: Null's back.

"It's okay," he whispered. "Shh. No one will take you from me. We'll defeat whoever tries, you and me and Cirrus. It's okay. We're okay. Shh."

He tried to relax as he continued whispering to Oblivion, but a shiver of his own crept over him. A prickling awareness that lingered at the back of his neck.

No matter how much Ash tried to believe his words, they were blindly idealistic.

Somewhere in Petalburg, the pale man was hunting for Oblivion. Probing minds with bizarre pokémon, alerting listeners on the streets, no doubt examining the list of passengers on the ocean liner's manifest. And Ash couldn't shake the feeling that there was more at work, that the man was a single thread in a deeper conspiracy, a conspiracy faceless and untouchable.

A conspiracy that was turning its attention to him – to him and Oblivion and the tiny family he was making his own.

~O~

The air was still shimmering with heat when Ash arrived at the rainforest trailhead, the late afternoon sun blazing down on him. He was already sheened with sweat and hadn't even started the real hike. Like the hundreds of local men he'd seen on the way here, he had stripped off his soaked t-shirt and pressed through the crowds half-naked.

Sitting at the wooden table beside the trail, he dug through his backpack and wondered whether he should have gone through his checklist again before departing May's house. But he couldn't think of anything he'd forgotten, and he had significantly added to his supplies during his short time in Petalburg: two and a half weeks worth of food for himself and his team, including emergency rations; the micle berries; a tent he had brought along at Caroline's insistence; more medicinal potions than he thought he'd need; some biogel; a copy of A Trainer's Guide to Hoenn Pokémon, with a note from Max on the first page that read "Don't be an idiot"; mobile numbers from May and Brendan in case he could ever afford a satellite phone; a map of Petalburg Woods; mosquito repellent; and a water purifier. The backpack itself was threadbare and worn, another hand-me-down from his father, but it ranked among his most prized possessions. Distortion-space backpacks weren't cheap.

Underneath all the new supplies, Ash located some spare pokéballs and clipped them to his belt. He didn't anticipate capturing any new pokémon in the rainforest, but he wanted to be ready in case he sighted a rare species. There was a decent chance of it from what Brendan had told him. The Vigoroth troops, which controlled extensive tracts of rainforest, rarely drove out other pokémon and humans dared to venture into it even less often. Here, a trainer greedy for new captures became the true quarry; the Vigoroth troops were merciless to human trespassers. Ash hoped he wouldn't discover that for himself.

As he reclipped the tangle of straps on his backpack, he glanced around warily. The trailhead sat back from a dirt street, behind a yard of beaten earth and banana trees. Most of the wooden tables in the yard were filled with resting trainers. A loud radio competed with the blasts of a pokémon battle between a Zigzagoon and Nincada, their trainers rattling off commands at a cadence now familiar to Ash's ears. No one seemed interested in him.

He unclipped two pokéballs from his belt and triggered their release mechanisms. Oblivion and Cirrus appeared before him, their eyes drawn to the great rainforest looming ahead; the rainforest's dark leaves stirred as it waited in hungry silence.

Ash cleared his throat. "We're standing at the edge of the Rainforest Trail. Both of you know we're heading to Rustboro, but I haven't mentioned we have weeks of travel ahead of us before we get there. I'll be blunt; we need to be smart if we want to survive this. We'll be in territory where humans are killed on sight."

Oblivion snorted at the rainforest, tossing his head in contempt. He had been there when Ash first learned what they would face in the rainforest, but he thought little of wild pokémon.

Cirrus only twitched.

"I'm serious," Ash said. He locked eyes with Oblivion. "The Rainforest Trail is a hard run, even in ideal weather conditions. More trainers die here than anywhere else on the Azure Coast."

Nights talking over the fire with Brendan and May had taught him that everywhere in Hoenn was dangerous, including the tame grasslands they traveled through on the way to Petalburg. But even locals – many of whom shrugged at living under a smoking volcano or swimming through miles of ocean – didn't dare to venture into Petalburg Woods. That was a feat left to trainers, though only the most adventurous attempted it when the Rustboro ferry was cheap and frequent.

Ash was the only one out of the former traveling companions hiking the full extent of the Rainforest Trail. Brendan intended to hunt at the edges until he had flushed out the Shroomish and Seedot he coveted, and May was bound for Dewford. Neither had wanted to spend weeks covered in mud when they could train at a Pokémon Center, nor risk the howling fury of the Vigoroth troops.

Ash had considered taking the ferry to Rustboro before he'd woken to half-remembered nightmares of a Beheeyem's pulsing fingers. If the pale man could use his pokémon to read memories, could he also rewrite them? Snatch Oblivion away and erase Ash's memories of their time together? It made him sweat, thinking about it.

His trail needed to go cold, and the pale man was likely surveilling the ferries in Petalburg harbor. Going to the police with his suspicions wasn't an option – Ash didn't want to bring their attention to the legal grey areas that surrounded his capture of the Type: Null. No, the rainforest was the only way to vanish for sure. He would rather risk the known dangers of the wilderness than the unknown dangers the pale man brought.

Ash reached out an arm to Cirrus, and she hopped onto his wrist. He petted her head, smiling when she cooed in pleasure.

"You'll be crucial to keeping us alive in there," he said. "I'd like you to scout ahead of us by air. Visibility will be limited beneath the rainforest canopy, but Vigoroth have distinctive white fur. Fly back with an Agility boost and warn me even if you see only one – or any pokémon that look like they might be trouble."

Cirrus nodded, and Ash was startled to see a flash of determination in her eyes. But he just nodded back.

He looked up at the Type: Null looming over him. "Oblivion, I need you to stay close. You'll be my last line of defense if we wind up in an ambush."

Oblivion barked an affirmative. It carried across the yard, and the other trainers paused from listening to the radio, eating fallen bananas, or watching the battle between the Zigzagoon and Nincada. They all gaped at the Type: Null, who growled at the ones that stared too long. Several raised their pokédexes.

Ash pulled the brim of his hat down low, hoping they wouldn't remember his features if the pale man probed their minds.

"Okay," he said, trying to ignore the prickle of eyes on him. "That's it as far as travel goes. But let's cover your training regimens before we get out of here. I have some drills we can do while hiking, plus some moves I'd like to get you guys started on."

Ash noticed that while Oblivion wagged his tail-fin at the mention of new ways to terrorize his opponents, Cirrus tensed. He frowned in consideration.

"Cirrus, I was thinking you could try to maintain Agility while you scout ahead. It enhances speed at the cost of being a constant drain on energy, so practicing it should improve your stamina. Are you comfortable with that?"

Cirrus nodded, relaxing. Her relieved glance at Oblivion confirmed Ash's suspicion that she was frightened of battling her teammate.

"Don't worry, mock battles won't be useful until we have a larger team," he said. "I don't want to get you accustomed to fighting an opponent that can barely strike back."

Oblivion glared at him.

"Oh please. It's true and you know it," Ash said. "Which is why I'd like you to practice Thunder Wave by attempting to zap foliage we pass on the trail. It should improve your accuracy even if the voltage isn't perfect. Just, whatever you do, don't accidentally strike me. The last thing I want is to be paralyzed in the middle of Vigoroth territory."

The Type: Null looked offended at the suggestion.

Ash snorted. "Anyhow, I've incorporated two new moves into each of your regimens – it should add enough variety to keep training from becoming tedious. I estimate we'll have enough time on the trail to get them battle-ready. None are supposed to be tricky."

He fished his pokédex from his pocket and showed Cirrus a battle video of a Swablu, which he had watched to learn about her species after rescuing her from the cliffside cave. There was only a sliver of moves Swablu could learn before they progressed into advanced, difficult-to-master techniques, and the Swablu in the video was using both moves Ash wanted to teach Cirrus.

Cirrus blinked as she watched the on-screen Swablu scream shrill, pink rings at its opponent. It then plunged through the air and struck with wings that glittered like knives. She shuffled back from the screen and looked up at Ash, still dazed, blinking.

"The moves you saw are called Disarming Voice and Steel Wing," Ash said. "You need a ranged attack and coverage against rock-types for the first gym. I want you to focus on Agility today, but start reflecting on the energy channels in your body – you'll need to harness new elements for these moves to work."

He turned to Oblivion. "The move I'm adding to your arsenal is Iron Defense. It'll be a solid counter for rock-type attacks, though I want you to get Thunder Wave to the point where it's a concentrated bolt before we introduce another move. Sound good?"

Ash stood up as his starter nodded. Stared into the gloom of the rainforest. He had heard tales of history's explorers, the men and women who mapped the deep wildernesses of the earth in search of new pokémon species – and yet still danger lurked just outside Petalburg's walls. A sweltering dark tangle where Vigoroth and Swellow and lone Sceptile hunted at will. Predators all. It sent a thrill of dread down his spine.

"Are you ready?" he asked.

Cirrus fluttered into the sky. Oblivion brushed against him as he prowled beside Ash, muscles rippling under his pelt. The glint in his team's eyes was all Ash needed to see.

Slinging on his backpack, he stepped towards the Rainforest Trail, his senses razor-sharp from nerves. The trainers at the tables whispered as he passed, but he didn't notice, concentrating on the rhythm of his breath and the tread of his feet. Cirrus streaked over him in a blur, scouting the red dirt trail ahead.

Soon he was hopping over roots and wading through muddy puddles, a tiny, faint shadow amongst the looming rainforest.

~O~

Ash did not anticipate the rain.

He was miles deep inside the rainforest when he heard the rumble of thunder, and seconds later fat drops of rain began to fall around him. The rain fell faster than he thought possible, a torrential deluge so heavy it pounded the blackbark trees in a relentless roar. His vest offered no protection. The rain soaked through his clothing, cold enough to make him shiver in the grey stormlight.

"Oh no. I forgot a poncho," Ash said, burying his face in his hands.

Oblivion looked just as miserable at the realization, as if he had planned to huddle under the poncho with him.

Together they stared at the Rainforest Trail. It already resembled a muddy stream more than a footpath. Lightning forked through the trees and lit the rushing water bone-white.

Gritting his teeth, Ash slogged forward, resting a hand on Oblivion to keep from slipping as mud squelched beneath his boots and water tugged at his ankles. He peered past the sheets of rain. Worried how much Cirrus's visibility had diminished. Would she be able to find him in the downpour? The shriek of Ninjask had fallen silent; it felt as if he and Oblivion trudged alone in a lifeless and shadowed world.

He concentrated on the rainforest to drown out the discomfort of his soggy socks. The trail wound under fern fronds and buttress roots, and a clinging mist swirled where he stepped. Blackbark trees towered hundreds of feet overhead, taller than the crowning skyscrapers of Saffron, their tangled branches blacking out the light. Their trunks were gargantuan too, nearly thirty feet wide, and when Ash peered upward he could see creepers and rattans hanging from them, and bright specks of sprouting parasitic orchids.

He was utterly dwarfed by his surroundings. Ferns grew taller than any man as they gathered the mist. Moss-covered roots erupted from the soil, so giant he could have sunk his hands into the spongy moss and climbed up them, but he instead threaded between the roots to remain with Oblivion. Here and there rafflesia flowers bloomed in the darkness, which Ash at first mistook for slumbering Venusaur. He tried to use his pokédex on them, but it was too dark beneath the canopy for the species scanner to get an exposure reading.

As he walked through the rainforest, Ash found himself thinking of the pokémon that lurked here and the strange nature of their lives. The Treecko in the canopy that went from birth to death without descending to the rainforest floor. The Beautifly that stabbed prey with long, tube-like mouths to suck fluids. The Shroomish that had never seen more than tiny patches of sky. It was almost enough to forget the raindrops pelting against his skin.

He was waiting for Oblivion to finish sniffing a fern when something thwacked into him with a soggy squelch. Ash staggered backward, nerves alight, while Oblivion lunged at the threat in a snarl. But it was only Cirrus, sodden and scarcely capable of flight – her cloud-like wings absorbed twice her weight in rain.

Ash offered to return the Swablu to her pokéball, but she refused, resolute in her role as team scout. She compromised at settling atop his League Expo cap and scrutinizing the distant shadows. Ash hoped she didn't like it too much up there; he knew Swablu often delighted in doubling as puffy hats.

The rain continued in a steady soak that fell with the promise of lasting the night. Ash, Oblivion, and Cirrus were all drenched and downcast, and when Ash called a halt for the day, there was no protest. He decided against a training session that evening. None of them were in the mood.

Night fell heavy on them. Shadows stretched and slithered out from the undergrowth, and by the time Ash had finished setting up his tent, it was black. The beam of his flashlight and drum of the rain on the forest canopy were the only indicators the world hadn't been swallowed around him.

Ash was too tired and too numb to attempt a cookfire, so he unpacked dry food for their dinner. He poured a bowl of pellets for Oblivion, offered a handful of nuts and berries to Cirrus, and scrounged up some jerky for himself. He squatted outside the tent and they all ate in silence.

"Oblivion, tonight you'll be first on watch," Ash said once they were finished. "Wake Cirrus halfway through the night. She'll stand watch for a few hours, and then I'll take the last shift."

The Type: Null gave Ash a long-suffering look and grumbled.

"Sorry, but we all have to take turns at watch until our team is larger. We spoiled ourselves traveling with May and Brendan." Ash wiped rain off his face and sighed. "In retrospect, maybe we should have stuck to Pokémon Centers until I captured more team members."

He had been thinking about travel ever since they stepped foot on the Rainforest Trail. Rookie trainers faced several choices in the first weeks of their journeys, but one that often went unnoticed was their travel strategy. The influence this had on rookies was so far-reaching Professor Oak had mandated that he and Gary read a book on the topic written by Lorelei, a former member of the Kanto-Johto Elite Four. Ash had – for once – taken the reading assignment seriously; even pokémon professors with their doctorates and journals and halls of ivy all snapped to attention when an Elite Four member published their insights.

Lorelei had developed five classifications of trainers based on travel strategy: students, drifters, urbanites, capturers, and explorers. Students and drifters were so removed from Ash's own philosophy that he had skipped those chapters – he didn't care to read about trainers that either went without travel or a plan – but after today he kept thinking about the latter three categories. He suspected that all the rookies he knew could be classified into them. Including himself.

Urbanites were trainers that played it smart and safe. They traveled from city to city, catching pokémon on the main routes and utilizing methods like trading and Safari Zones to fill out their rosters with rarer captures. Thanks to training within range of Pokémon Centers, urbanites could treat their teams to full nights of uninterrupted sleep and train hard the next day without the distractions of constant travel. They were often the first trainers of the season to prevail over eight gyms and register for their regional conference. Professor Oak had spoken highly of this strategy, and Ash pegged Gary and May as fledgling urbanites.

He considered the next classification the domain of type specialists, but technically capturers were just trainers confident in which pokémon species they intended to add to their team. Capturers prioritized catching team members above all else in the initial months of their journey, forgoing gym battles and traveling from one pokémon habitat circled on their maps to the next. If they sought rare pokémon, it wasn't unheard of for a capturer to dedicate months to searching that pokémon's known habitats until they tracked it down. But while their teams lacked battle prowess at the beginning of their journeys, catching a team of six or more early in the season allowed capturers to progress faster than other trainers; their teams were tightly-knit, competitive families where each pokémon learned from the rest. If this travel strategy was combined with a type specialty, then capturers were especially formidable opponents – their pokémon were all capable of learning and teaching each other the most advanced moves of their type. Brendan was undoubtedly a capturer, and while Ash knew he'd defeat Brendan in any battle they had now, he'd need to be wary in the coming months.

The last trainers out there were explorers. Lorelei described this as the riskiest classification a trainer could embrace, involving the most potential peril. Explorers ventured off the main routes and into the heart of the wilderness, seeking out adventure while they trained their team. They were the most prone out of the five classifications to dying on their travels, but the explorers that survived were enigmatic foes in battle. With strange techniques and pokémon rarely seen on the battlefield, an explorer even unnerved trainers many years their senior. Explorers were trainers of extremes – they were either washouts or prodigies – but regardless of the outcome they often had the greatest bonds of trust with their pokémon.

Of all the classifications, Ash knew he was meant to be an explorer. He had grown up hearing stories of First Champion Taizo's rise from betrayed noble to warrior-king, myths of King Azoth and the pride that plunged the world into the Black Age, and he couldn't deny himself the chance to create a tale of his own.

Ash looked up at his team and realized both Oblivion and Cirrus were watching him; Oblivion had his head tilted in query, and Cirrus had stopped grooming her feathers. Though his mention of future teammates was offhand, it occurred to him they would be curious. The pokémon he captured would be their companions for the rest of their lives.

"I don't have specific species I want to catch, if you're wondering," he said. He swung the pale beam of his flashlight into the rainforest, staring at the shadowed trees and dark drizzle of rain. "I want to see what's out there for myself, not check species off a list. Who knows what we'll find?"

Cirrus glanced nervously at the shadows and fluttered closer to Ash. Hopping onto his leg, she nudged past his dripping vest and buried under his t-shirt.

Ash laughed at the tickle of her feathers against his stomach. "I didn't mean that ominously, you know. But I'll keep in mind not to tell ghost stories if you're …"

He trailed off as his eyes landed on a nearby blackbark trunk. Five feet up, the bark was gouged to the inner skin with crude, deep claw marks.

"Oblivion?" Ash called quietly. He locked eyes with the Type: Null and nodded at the blackbark tree.

Oblivion padded to the rain-slicked trunk. Sniffed at the claw marks. His hackles rose. In that second, Ash realized what they were looking at.

Territorial scratchings.

"It has to be Vigoroth," Ash said. "We should move. If we've camped on a patrol route –"

Ferns trembled in violent motion. Something hairy and humanoid and hulking streaked into the glare of Ash's flashlight, its claws flashing, its fangs bared at its future kill.

It was a pokémon with glittering, hateful eyes – a Vigoroth.

Ash let out an incoherent yell and reacted on instinct. He thrust his flashlight into the lunging pokémon's jaws. The Vigoroth snapped them shut, crunching the flashlight into dozens of pieces. Spat the plastic aside and leapt at him.

But his gambit had given Oblivion crucial seconds to act. The Type: Null roared, bunching his muscles, and rammed his steel mask into the Vigoroth. The crack of bones echoed under the roar of the rain; the Vigoroth went flying into the ferns. A primal howl rose from the darkness and Oblivion spun immediately, tensed himself, and sprang from a blow just as the Vigoroth rushed out of the ferns and attempted to rip its claws into Oblivion's flank. The Vigoroth's shock at swiping empty air lasted just long enough for Oblivion to sink his fangs into the pokémon's neck, holding it firm as it thrashed against him.

Then the Vigoroth's eyes rolled back and it dropped to the dirt.

Ash gasped out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. He shifted the shivering Swablu into his arms and prodded the Vigoroth with his boot. Limp and out cold. For a fleeting moment, he considered capturing it, but he didn't need an irascible normal-type on his team. He shook his head and blinked rapidly, trying to settle his thumping heart.

"Check on the Vigoroth and make sure it's not playing dead. Then guard it while I pack up camp," he told Oblivion.

Hours later, Ash lay awake in his relocated tent, having fumbled through the rainforest without a flashlight until they were a safe distance away from the unconscious Vigoroth. The rain drummed against the tent tarps, a deluge that sounded as if Kyogre was drowning the world, and he listened to it as he stared into darkness. The rain didn't bother him; it was the worry of a Vigoroth troop spotting his camp that kept him awake. Oblivion and Cirrus could fend off lone Vigoroth, but a troop would slaughter them.

His mind was as restless as the rain. Once he was certain Cirrus was asleep – snuggled under the sleeping bag with him, softly humming while she dreamt – he scrolled through his pokédex to muffle the whisper of his thoughts. But he just stared at the glowing images of pokémon without absorbing the information he read.

He'd been stupid. It was stupid to set up camp without scouting his surroundings for danger, stupid to miss the signs that it was a Vigoroth patrol route. Sure, Oblivion had defeated the Vigoroth, but what if he had camped within reach of the full troop? What if he camped outside a Shiftry's den? He needed to sharpen his survival instinct. In the wilderness night, when the rainforest became black and damp and claustrophobic, he was prey.

It won't happen again, Ash promised himself. I won't die because of a stupid mistake.

Ash's eyes eventually drifted shut and cognizance slipped away from him. Sometime later, he became foggily aware of Oblivion laying down in the tent, and he slid closer to the Type: Null's warmth, nestling into his side. Oblivion stiffened at the closeness but slowly relaxed as he watched his trainer snore. He lowered his great head next to Ash's own. Closed his eyes.

Together, they slumbered in the solitude of the rain-soaked night.

~O~

Trudging through the rainforest wasn't hard. Trudging through the rainforest at a decent speed was impossible. Only Cirrus was spared the muddy slush of the Rainforest Trail, but even she was at the mercy of the storms. As she careened wildly through the air, weighed down by her waterlogged wings, Ash and Oblivion stumbled over roots and slipped through mud, forging ever deeper into the thundering rainforest.

Ash rambled to Oblivion whenever the quiet unsettled him. But the Type: Null seldom acknowledged his words, his eyes slitted in concentration as he discharged Thunder Waves. Lightning fizzed and snapped at the blackbark trees, leaving sooty singes on their trunks.

A week passed. They settled into a dreary routine as they hiked till dusk and then trained in the long nights. Ash kept half an eye on his team while they honed their techniques, but the rest of his attention was directed towards setting up his tent, cooking, and scribbling battle strategies in his notebook. Sporadically, he'd call out to one of his pokémon and correct their stance.

He had expected Cirrus's timidity to hinder her training, but she adapted to the regimen with fierce attention to his teachings. She devoted herself to practicing her new moves, and to Oblivion's disgruntlement, mastered Disarming Voice in a single week thanks to her prior experience with Sing. She was still an anxious little bird, but she had a determination to carry her weight that Ash respected.

In the late twilight of a typical day on the Rainforest Trail, Ash sat on a mossy log, resting after unpacking his tent. The rain had lightened to a drizzle, and his team was training with more vigor than usual. He scanned the rainforest again, but he had already scouted the terrain with Cirrus's help. Iridescent Beautifly fluttered through shafts of reddening sunlight, and emerald leaves sparkled from the rain. All told, he felt satisfied with their progress in training and on the trail.

Yet there was still planning to be done. He drummed his fingers on the log and considered his goals.

Cirrus streaked over him in a flash of silver while he thought. The Swablu had been practicing Steel Wing, and while the move was currently flash without substance, the fiery glint of her feathers in the light of the dying sun was breathtaking. He went through his notes again and again, committing personalities and tricks and signature pokémon to memory, men and women that rose from the pyres of the Ninth Dragon War.

What would it be like to meet these people, stare them down, test his will against them? Could he confront the gym leaders of Lavaridge and Sootopolis, one calloused and burnt from the lava ravines, one sleek and graceful as a fish, and force a gym badge from their hands? Would whispers of his team reach them from the young and ambitious Roxanne? What courage would he need to descend into the dark, mechanical underworld of New Mauville, saying, "Yes, good day Wattson, raving trickster, master and madman of this mechanical city. I see you have hidden yourself in these darkest depths and devised traps to keep all but your rivals in madness from interrupting your work. But no matter that, I am the next victor of the Ever Grande Conference, and by right of your League, I am here to defeat you."

He would face battlers of indomitable might.

And there were strange omissions in his notes that troubled him. The Twins of Mossdeep, cute children no older than nine, were official gym leaders despite the ban on underage trainers. What guile was masked behind their youthful smiles?

A growl echoed through the rainforest, and Ash looked up from his notebook with a sigh. "You won't make headway on Iron Defense until you stop comparing yourself to Cirrus," he said. "Concentrate on generating steel-type energy."

Oblivion huffed. His eyes were narrowed at the Swablu, who darted through the trees, slicing leaves with silver-tipped feathers. He dragged a claw through the soil and inhaled to attempt Iron Defense again, but not a single hair glinted silver.

Snarling, the Type: Null swung his metal mask in frustration. Snapped at a fern frond that dared to brush his flank.

"Want to take a break and practice Thunder Wave?" Ash asked.

Oblivion gave him a side-eye, assessing his trainer for mockery or condescension. Detecting none, he shook his head. Inhaled to attempt Iron Defense once more.

Both of them stood in silence as the songs of Taillow and shriek of Ninjask permeated the rainforest.

Ash frowned. The Type: Null was faring well with Thunder Wave, but Iron Defense had mystified him since he'd been taught the theory of the move five days ago. There was some fundamental trick to it that defied his comprehension.

"I can't have you stuck on this move, Oblivion. It dampens all our moods, yours most of all." He whistled, and a white dot in the distant rainforest arced towards them. "Let's see if Cirrus can show you anything."

Oblivion swung his head in an emphatic no!, backing away like Ash had confessed he was secretly a coordinator that wanted to decorate him with rhinestones.

Ash rolled his eyes. "It's not shameful to seek advice. Cirrus has a knack for learning new moves, so she should be a decent teacher."

But as Cirrus alighted on his wrist and locked eyes with Oblivion, trembling as she swiveled her head between Ash and the Type: Null, he had the sinking intuition this wouldn't proceed as he hoped.

"Hey, would you mind working with Oblivion?" Ash asked. "It won't be for long, I promise."

Cirrus fluffed her feathers in alarm. Her shaking intensified, and for a heartbeat Ash became convinced she was suffering a seizure. Her eyes were shut tight; she clawed at his t-shirt, drawing pinpricks of blood.

Shit. Too late he realized how she must have interpreted his request.

"Um, Cirrus?" he tried. "Hey, look at me. It's okay, I don't want you to battle him. He just needs some help with steel-type energy."

He stroked her feathers and spoke to her in soft tones in an attempt to calm her. Wiped mud from her down; plucked out sprigs of moss. In the wild, he knew Swablu flocks devoted hours a day to grooming one another, removing ticks and dirt. Grooming was an important behavior in their social dominance structure, but like massages for people, it also seemed to have a soothing effect on Cirrus. Perhaps it reminded the Swablu of her former flock?

Regardless, he eventually eased Cirrus out of her anxiety attack and then corralled Oblivion, who had wandered away to sniff at some ferns. He set Cirrus on a mossy log and convinced Oblivion to sit down and cock his head at her as she slowly demonstrated her process for Steel Wing. Breathed a sigh of relief and went back to his notes.

His serenity was short-lived.

He had just scribbled down an idea for defeating Roxanne when Cirrus perched on one of Oblivion's metal spokes. The Type: Null freaked, instinctively rearing onto his hind legs, and snapped at the Swablu, catching feathers in his mouth as she darted from his fangs. Both pokémon's pupils were blown in panic – in the span of a heartbeat, Cirrus blurred through the rainforest and vanished into the gloom.

Ash sighed. So much for that.

He didn't ask his pokémon to work together again.

~O~

Ash found the corpse deep within the rainforest, in the last light of dusk. He had stopped to stare at a vine-strangled cliff, rising dark and rocky on the trail ahead of him, waterfalls gushing down its face in the misting rain. If he hadn't, he would have missed the bloodless-white hand that reached out of the mud.

He trudged towards it with a tightness in his chest, trying to convince himself it was a twisted root. Felt his lips move – whistling to Cirrus of potential danger – as he knelt and wiped away mud. Shuddered at the touch of clammy skin.

It wasn't a root.

The hand belonged to an older trainer, judging by the clips on the man's belt. He had fear in his frozen expression, glassy eyes staring at the canopy with dread, and Ash thought he must have known what was coming, for shards of broken pokéballs were scattered in the mud. He swallowed down bile as he touched the glassy eyes with one finger and closed them. Pondered the loyalty of the man's pokémon, to have left his corpse to bloat and rot.

Oblivion sat beside him in silence. He lacked his usual swagger, and he rumbled in concern when Ash dug his hands into the mud and gasped, trying not to heave the contents of his stomach onto the forest floor.

"I'll be fine," Ash said in a hoarse voice. He took deep, shuddery breaths, filling his lungs with air, reminding himself he could still breathe.

It was clear Vigoroth had killed the man. The long weeks Ash spent traveling through the rainforest had familiarized him with the species, and he recognized the bruises and wounds on the man's bloated skin. He tried to tell himself the death was only natural. Vigoroth killed trespassers, whether they were traveling trainers or Vigoroth from rival troops; it was an instinct ingrained in their social DNA. The law of the rainforest.

"Oblivion, could you dig a hole so we can bury him?" he rasped.

The numb shock of the corpse was fading, and suddenly he was gripped with the need to flee from this grave and its reek of death as the rainforest darkened around him. But he remembered Professor Oak's drills for the licensing exam, and he fell back on the protocols that had been burned in his brain. Check for pokéballs. Obtain trainer ID. Bury the corpse.

Shielding his face from hurled mud as Oblivion dug into the black earth, Ash folded the man's arms across his chest. Muttered an apology as he began rifling through pockets. Nothing. He cursed and stared at the backpack strapped to the corpse. Steeling himself, he fumbled through mud while he tried to unstrap it. The corpse's arms were too stiff, and he struggled for several minutes before he remembered he could unhook the backpack from its straps.

He laughed hysterically. His hands shook as he choked on his own laughter, no longer completely in control of himself, and he let himself laugh in the shadowed rainforest until sound no longer escaped his lips and there were only wheezing gasps.

Then he unzipped the backpack.

Ash found the man's trainer identification card in an interior pocket. He wiped off the mud he had left on the plastic card and squinted in the dark to read the tiny letters: Rico Rivera. The name meant nothing to him. Shrugging, he pocketed the ID and resumed rifling through the backpack, in search of hidden pokéballs Rico hadn't destroyed.

He never found any pokéballs. Instead, his fingers brushed against a familiar container, its glass panes slightly warm to the touch. Strangely warm, in the rainforest's dark mist.

"Shit," he whispered.

He shifted in the mud, unready for the burden Rico had posthumously thrust upon him. Realized he had stumbled upon a twist in his fate. Bracing himself, he raised the incubator out of the backpack.

Inside stood a white pokémon egg, gleaming in the dark.

~O~

Night fell heavy on them. Except for the red glow of the cookfire coals, it was black.

Ash stared at the pokémon egg beside him as he shoveled pan-cooked yakisoba into his mouth. He, Oblivion, and Cirrus ate in silence. Beyond the glow of the coals, there was nothing except the yip of Breloom and the throbbing ji-ji-ji of the Ninjask, the rumble of distant thunder and the rustle of leaves in the rain.

The memory of the corpse lingered behind Ash's eyelids. Dreading sleep that night, he contemplated the egg to keep himself calm. He hadn't wanted to raise the egg of an unknown pokémon, but now ruminating on its species was his only salvation from flooding memories. The corpse, Admiral Archie's cold blue eyes, the pulsating glow of the Beheeyem's fingers – all threatened to fuse into a single sinister nightmare.

The pokémon was presumably white in coloration. In a feat of convergent evolution, most pokémon species laid eggs with colored and sometimes even patterned shells, to prevent species like Murkrow and Persian from eating eggs in the nests they spotted, then replacing the eaten eggs with their own. Often eggshells matched the color of their species, though Ash was blanking on white pokémon. Seel? Wingull? Those were the only two he could remember.

The rumble of thunder echoed in the rainforest. Rain gushed harder, snuffing out the coals, and soon Ash was ankle deep in water. He volunteered for first watch, still meditating on the egg. Oblivion and Cirrus retreated into the tent.

Time passed. It could have been minutes or hours – Ash lost track. He listened to the rain as he hunched in the storm, longing for a poncho. The cold seeped into his bones; his body felt heavy and numb. Slowly, his eyelids began to droop.

Lightning splintered through the blackbark trees, and in the eerie flicker, Ash saw glowing eyes amongst the ferns. Dozens of them. Watching. Waiting for him to sleep.

He stiffened. Fought the urge to scream, to lunge for the utility knife in the pile of the cookware by his tent. His eyes darted left and right. Sure enough, he saw shadows flitting through the blackbark trees.

Shit. Shit. Who knew how long they'd been stalking him? He must have walked into a trap – the corpse a lure left on the Rainforest Trail. A lure to tarry trainers as the Vigoroth gathered amongst the shadows and scouted their kill.

Troops behaved differently from lone Vigoroth. The alphas were Vigoroth on the brink of evolution, slower but with the cunning of Slaking. They liked to stalk and trap and calculate, and by the time their prey detected them, they had already set up their kill. It was dumb luck that Ash had seen them before they attacked, but he just felt sick with fear as he realized there was nowhere to flee. There were no low-hanging branches on the blackbark trees, no handholds he could use to climb to safety.

His hand inched for the utility knife. The Vigoroth in the ferns seemed to recognize the ploy, and howling war cries drowned out the rain, their voices rising as one. Ash gave up any pretense of stealth and dove for the knife – slipping, sprawling through the mud. Heard himself scream Oblivion's name.

Vigoroth erupted from the ferns. Oblivion's howl pierced the night, and a hurricane of movement whirled through the camp as he answered their challenge. He tackled a Vigoroth whose claws sliced for Ash, and mud splattered onto the trainer as he crouched lower. A shadow streaked over Ash's shoulder from the tent, shrieking at such a high frequency he reflexively grit his teeth; it dive-bombed another Vigoroth that loomed over him.

Cirrus! The tiny Swablu's shaking determination emboldened him. He clenched the knife in his hand and stood up. His two pokémon flanked him, shielding his body with their own.

The Vigoroth circled in the darkness, dozens of black shapes snarling. But that wasn't what Ash needed to worry about. Behind him, the wind whistled at his neck.

Ash spun and side-stepped. The lunging Vigoroth twisted in pursuit, inhumanly agile, but the flash of a Thunder Wave paralyzed it. Oblivion's massive form charged towards the Vigoroth in the rain. Skidded to a halt as he rushed harmlessly through empty air – the Vigoroth had leapt aside despite the paralysis.

A second Vigoroth used the opening to lunge at Ash, claws flashing in a flicker of lightning. Ash ducked the blow, barely. Its lips drew back, showing fangs, as its paralyzed partner distracted Oblivion.

"Oblivion, over here! Thunder Wave!"

A lightning bolt stabbed at the Vigoroth. It leapt from the Thunder Wave and rushed Ash again, but this time Cirrus was there.

She pecked at its eyes with a glowing beak. Blood-curdling screams shook the night as the Vigoroth staggered; Cirrus capitalized on its vulnerability to slice at it with Steel Wing. She darted around the pokémon, steel feathers carving long red lines into its pelt, and it screamed and screamed and screamed, swiping blindly at the Swablu, until it staggered and toppled into the mud.

More Vigoroth slunk from the ferns, baring teeth and growling. Two crouched before Ash and Cirrus. Ash glanced sideways and saw Oblivion tussling with three – the Type: Null panted, his chest heaving, as he rammed the paralyzed Vigoroth with a brutal Tackle.

Cirrus warded off the nearest Vigoroth with Disarming Voice. The pair didn't flinch as the pink rings burst against them. She faltered.

A Vigoroth hurled itself at Ash, snarling, white claws glittering in the rain.

Ash swung his knife as the claws swiped towards him. He yelled for another Disarming Voice, wincing at his knife's useless stab at the Vigoroth's pelt. The blade was too dull. It didn't even pierce skin.

The Disarming Voice hit a heartbeat later and the Vigoroth reeled backward. Cirrus swooped in front of Ash, screaming out the pink rings.

Ash wiped the rain from his face and narrowed his eyes. The darkness flickered with Disarming Voices and Thunder Waves, illuminating the grim odds. He needed to regroup his team. Separated, they stood no chance against the Vigoroth.

Don't panic. Think. It's the only weapon you've got.

If he stumbled, the Vigoroth would kill him like Rico. They'd rip out his jugular and blood would bubble from his throat as he screamed.

Feet splashed in the puddles behind him. Ash whirled around even as he barked out an order. "Cirrus, behind you! Steel Wing!"

Cirrus turned, and a silver light blazed from her body. She rammed into the Vigoroth with a bone-breaking boom – Ash felt the rattle in his teeth. The Vigoroth slammed into a blackbark tree and crumpled to the dirt.

In the same heartbeat, a wild Thunder Wave burst from a frenzied Oblivion, a white flare that sparked and crackled and made Ash's eyes water. He dove for the mud. Shuddered as he felt the electric current rush over him, a white hot lance.

Some instinct told Ash to roll sideways. He trusted it, blind as his eyes readjusted to the darkness, and made out the shadow shape of a Vigoroth collapsing to the ground where he'd been moments before.

Several Vigoroth spasmed in the mud, whining and scrabbling at nothing in the throes of paralysis. But two Vigoroth still stood, and more materialized from the ferns.

Ash and Oblivion fell in beside each other. But there was no mirth to the reunion – Ash's throat dried as he realized Cirrus had vanished. He frowned, squinting through the rain.

"Cirrus!"

He recognized her crumpled shadow lying in a puddle. The Swablu spasmed and convulsed, arcs of electricity sparking off her wings. She didn't respond to her name.

Ash's skin prickled with fear. He sucked in a breath and glanced at the Vigoroth stalking towards them. Alone Oblivion will fall.We won't walk away from this the victors –if we walk away at all.

That was the grim truth. The Vigoroth had separated them. Ganged up on them each. He had let the Vigoroth exploit their lack of cohesion, and now he was going to die for it.

Fingers trembling, Ash unclipped Cirrus's pokéball and returned her while he still had time.

"You've got no backup now," he whispered to Oblivion. "I'm going to grab our supplies – maybe we can still run for it. Cover me."

The ferns exploded into motion. Oblivion reared onto his hind legs and caught the Vigoroth in midleap. His fangs sunk into its neck, but the Vigoroth crashed into him and they went tumbling. Another lunged for the Type: Null. Claws slashed at his legs. The circling Vigoroth rushed in on him in turns, howling and slashing and then twisting away.

Ash tore his eyes from the struggle, sprinting for his backpack. He scooped up the egg. Frantically stuffed it into his backpack, then leaped back as a Vigoroth barreled at him. Its claws ripped through a sleeve; Ash felt a hot trickle of blood from his right arm, but his pain was dampened by the relief that the Vigoroth hadn't pinned him.

Turn. Turn!

Wind rushed from behind Ash as another Vigoroth attacked. They always coordinated; it made him realize how artless his pokémon were at teamwork. He spun, stabbing his knife into the Vigoroth with all his momentum. The knife buried itself into its skin, but the Vigoroth snarled and barely backed off at all.

Out of his peripheral vision, Ash saw a Vigoroth leap for Oblivion's back. The Type: Null was distracted by the others' slashes and feints. Couldn't see it coming.

"Oblivion!" Ash shouted, but it was too late. The Vigoroth sunk its fangs into the Type: Null's neck. Ash watched, stunned, as he howled in agony and slammed into the dirt with a clanging thud. More Vigoroth leapt onto Oblivion, ripping their claws into his fur, burying him in a pile of writhing white.

Nononono!

Ash realized he was screaming the word, his heart ripped by the sight of Oblivion's collapse. He returned the limp Type: Null with shaking hands. Froze as the eyes of too many Vigoroth flickered towards him.

He turned to run, but the knifed Vigoroth lunged. It covered the distance in a blur, grabbing him before he even took a step. His body somersaulted and the world spun. He was flying. The Vigoroth had flung him high in the air, and the other Vigoroth bayed and howled, panting in excitement.

Darkness waited below. Shadow ferns rushed up.

He slammed face-first into the ferns. Scrambled upright, bloodied and panicked and scared. Pain lanced through his ankle as he limped forward, but he ignored it, then forced weight on it as he fled.

The rainforest ripped at Ash, tripping him with roots, slashing at him with serrated leaves. He plunged like a Rhyhorn through its leafen shadows, thrashing and snapping a blind path. He knew he was noisy enough even the stupidest Vigoroth could follow, but his instincts screamed at him to keep running.

He could hear the Vigoroth crashing through the tangle behind him. He half-skidded down a bank, his boots slipping in the slick muck. His ankle was a knot of hot agony. Blood welled from a cut on his forehead and dripped into his eye, making him swear.

The blackbark roots loomed and twisted in the night, a head-spinning labyrinth of mossy rot. The gushing rain made it worse. Ash vaulted over a root, praying that the Vigoroth were falling behind.

He stumbled into waist-deep water. Tripped and screamed bubbles of air as he plunged beneath its surface. His eyes snapped open. A dark world of unexpected depth beckoned him. The pond here went deep, many feet deeper than he could stand. Blackbark roots snaked into it, twisted black overhangs that promised concealment.

Ash swam for the gargantuan roots, weaving between them, resurfacing in their deepest shadows. He gasped out a breath before falling silent. Only his head peeked above the water.

Keep chasing shadows. Don't look too closely.

He heard the Vigoroth crashing close. Their rapid chattering and heaving breaths, twining with the howls of slower Vigoroth and the patter of rain on water. All of it filtered down to the lurking trainer. He hardly dared to breathe.

The Vigoroth waited at the pond's edge as they tried to determine what to do. Some sloshed into the water. Ash felt cold ripples as they clumsily paddled deeper.

Heart pounding, he sucked air into his lungs and ducked his head beneath the water. He let himself float motionlessly, staring into the pond. Black nothingness. His heart thudded against his chest as his oxygen depleted.

In the deepest depths of the water, something – no, some thing stirred.

Ash's eyes widened. Terror fanned down his spine as he realized he wasn't the only lurker in this black pit.

A monster was crawling through the water, shadowy and silent. Ash stifled a scream as it passed. Feet and feet of red armor slid past him, a colossal king of a crustacean. The pokémon was greater in size than the oldest Nidoking of the plains. A terror of a Crawdaunt, spiked claws clicking, easing through the darkness with lethal grace.

Its beady eyes tracked the Vigoroth; its claws twitched at every chatter and howl. The noise had disturbed its slumber.

The first Vigoroth was dragged down without a splash. The second was snapped up in a claw. Blood smoked the water.

The Vigoroth on the shore howled at the slaughtering Crawdaunt. They hunched at the pond's edge, swiping at it, baring their fangs. Those in the water swam for safety but sank underneath one by one. The water surged with the scarlet struggle.

Ash fought to keep his heart steady. He knew he needed to keep his fear under control – to keep his mind sharp – if he was to remain hidden. But even as he tried to tell himself he wasn't panicking, he could feel whimpering terror swell within him. Blood clouded the water all around.

The Vigoroth clumped at the edge of the pond, howling and slashing at the surface of the water. But their fury did not bother the Crawdaunt. It ripped chunks of meat and swallowed them whole; the teeth in its stomach would continue its digestion.

Ash watched the Crawdaunt, wanting to gag at his proximity to its feeding, estimating his likelihood of survival. Nausea swam in his stomach.

Trapped here, he felt like a fool for hiking the Rainforest Trail. He'd taken a rookie pokémon team into the wilderness, untested and unwilling to work together, and expected to survive with only the barest precautions. A camouflaged tent or combat knife or spare flashlight could have made all the difference, but he hadn't bothered. His high licensing exam score combined with his powerful starter had made Ash believe he was ready to take on the world.

Worst of all, he hadn't trained his team as a team. He'd let petty disagreements linger between Oblivion and Cirrus to the point that they outright ignored each other. That was why the Vigoroth had made short work of their defenses. That was why he was hiding in a predator's lair.

The Vigoroth troop and the Crawdaunt weren't his enemies. Negligence was his only foe, as always. Trainer versus nature was a falsehood; the real conflict of nature was trainer versus self.

Above, the Vigoroths' chattering faded into the distant rainforest. They'd reached their own conclusion – that the Crawdaunt reigned supreme in the water – and turned tail.

The Crawdaunt gorged on its kills while Ash deliberated. If he moved, the Crawdaunt would detect him, but his lungs were burning from oxygen deprivation. The longer he waited the clumsier he'd become. Blood thudded in his ears.

Ash grabbed onto a blackbark root, heaving himself upward.

The Crawdaunt lashed toward him. Ash tensed his muscles and flung himself onto the blackbark root, clawing out of the water. A gargantuan claw snapped into the root, sending splinters flying, but it missed him.

He hastened to solid dirt, stars swimming in his vision from low oxygen. A rush of pure satisfaction flooded his mind as he collapsed into the rainforest mud. Forced himself to crawl forward another hundred feet before blackness saturated his vision, and he passed out.

He had survived.

Somehow, he had survived.

~O~

Hidden in a clump of ferns, Ash lay like a dead man, curled where he'd fallen in the night. His arms were crusted with scars, and dried blood flecked the fern fronds despite the weeping rain. His eyelids twitched as raindrops splashed his face, but otherwise he did not move.

At high noon, when a shaft of sunlight hit him and lit the ferns lush green, Ash groaned and buried his face into his arms. The weight on his scars made them ache, and he groaned again, shifting. Awareness of last night's injuries slowly crept over him.

Ash's eyes snapped open. At first he thought he was hungover. His thoughts were clouded by a fog of pain, and his body twinged with dozens of aches and sores. He moaned and buried his head in his hands. He had told Gary after their first experiment that he would never get this drunk again.

Then he remembered fleeing through ferns as Vigoroth howled at his heels. Blood churning water. His pokémon out cold inside their pokéballs.

I should tend to them, Ash thought, propping himself up on his elbow. He rubbed his eyes in the dappled sunlight. Shoved the nightmarish images into the back of his mind, trying to keep himself rational. He could unbottle his emotions when he was safe in the Rustboro Pokémon Center.

Slowly, he stood up, brushing leaves and dried mud from his clothes. Pain blossomed in his ankle from the weight, and he grimaced. Hopped to a rotten mossy log to sit down.

Ash spent the next hour washing himself with leaf-pooled rainwater. Pulling on clean clothes, he eyed the purple bruises and red cuts adorning his skin. Ugh. He'd draw stares when he arrived in Rustboro. At least his ankle was his only severe injury.

Once he'd tended to himself, he released his pokémon and ordered them to hold still as he sprayed potions and rubbed salves into their wounds. They understood the warning tones in his voice, and neither Oblivion nor Cirrus fussed over the others' presence.

They've healed so much already; only the greatest wounds are left.

Ash felt fleetingly envious of his pokémon's inhuman cell replication, of the super-clotting agents in their blood. They were creatures designed for combat, unlike frail humans, and he would bear the scars of last night far longer than either of them.

He noticed their guilty expressions – Oblivion's head hanging low, Cirrus tugging at her feathers to avoid eye contact – and took a deep breath. Considered what he would say.

"I'm sorry," Ash started. "I've let you both down on some fronts. I was so focused on exercise drills and nutrition and movesets that I forgot we're a team – not some collection of independent fighters." He sighed and rubbed a bruise on his neck. "The truth is, our teamwork sucks, and it's why the Vigoroth troop outclassed us from the outset. That's on me, but I swear I'll do better as your trainer moving forward."

He paused, giving the pokémon a few seconds to let his words sink in.

"But I won't sugarcoat this. Half the problem is that I've been too lenient on you. I don't care what the issues between you two are; from now on you're going to respect each other. This isn't a family holiday where we can indulge in petty squabbles. This is our future," Ash said. "Cirrus, I expect you to trust Oblivion as a fellow teammate. I know you have some post-traumatic stress to deal with, but he's harmless."

Oblivion grumbled in disagreement, earning him Ash's full attention. He scowled at the Type: Null. "And you! You're supposed to be my second-in-command! I don't care if you terrorize half of Hoenn with your growling and biting, but it stays outside our team. Lay off Cirrus. Understand?"

Oblivion and Cirrus glanced at each other uncertainly.

"Well?" Ash asked.

He was surprised when Cirrus was the first to respond – he'd half expected another anxiety attack. Bobbing her head, the Swablu chirped an affirmative.

Oblivion licked the side of Ash's face with his scratchy tongue.

"Hey, that tickles," Ash said with a laugh. "Just remember, we're a team. We've got to have each other's backs."

Oblivion and Cirrus mumbled their consent. He watched them, searching for any hint of animosity or defiance, but there was none. He sighed in relief. Realized that his hands were shaking with tension and hurriedly stuffed them into his pockets.

"All right," he said. "Now let's orienteer ourselves to Rustboro."

He dug through his backpack for the map he'd bought in Petalburg; it encompassed the Rainforest Trail and other geographic landmarks within the rainforest. He had veered off the trail last night and had no idea which direction he'd sprinted in the pitch black, but that was what the map was for anyway.

... If he remembered how to read it. How was he supposed to know where he was on it again? All the coordinates and wavy lines were bewildering.

Oblivion snorted at him when he flipped the map sideways for the umpteenth time, frowning at it like it was some legendary puzzle from the Sinjoh Ruins. "Listen, it's harder than it looks," Ash defended. "It's not like you could do any better."

The Type: Null's green eyes glinted at the challenge, and Ash was taken aback when Oblivion peered over his shoulder to scrutinize the map. They stared down the map together, challenging it to reveal its secrets.

Shadows lengthened, and Cirrus had collected a sizable pyramid of gobletfruit by the time Oblivion snarled at the map and Ash stuffed it into his backpack out of sheer frustration."We don't need that thing anyway," Ash said.

Oblivion nodded, tossing his head in disdain at the idiotic human invention.

"I did figure out that there's a river to the east flowing all the way to Rustboro. There's no way I forded a river last night, so theoretically if we head east we can walk its shoreline till we arrive in the city," Ash said. "Hey, Cirrus, we're going now!"

The Swablu sagged in disappointment from her throne of gobletfruit. The succulent wine-red fruits gleamed in a golden ray of sunlight, and to her they must have looked like ambrosial jewels.

"Uh, you want me to bring along your fruit?" Ash asked, eying the pyramid that went up to his knees. There had to be at least forty gobletfruit in the stack. When had she collected them all?

Cirrus looked up at him hopefully.

He shrugged his shoulders. "Hey, why not? Might as well if it makes you chirpy."

She did a cheerful loop in the air and trilled. Oblivion glanced back and forth between his smiling trainer and the Swablu, wagging his tail-fin.

"... You're not going to eat of all these by yourself, are you? Are you even capable of that?"

The three gathered around the gobletfruit and stacked them in Ash's backpack, laughing in the light of the setting sun. The egg lay in the dirt beside them, and though it went unnoticed, perceptibly twitched.


Thanks for reading!

This was the hardest chapter I've written yet (and not just because I've had to rewrite it twice), so I'm curious to hear your opinion. I'm super bored of it at this point and can't tell if anything is actually interesting; I can only hope you didn't feel the same when you read it. Sorry if the chapter was unexpectedly gruesome - on principle, I don't like including pokémon deaths, but canon has also established that pokémon eat each other. I'd like to clarify that I don't plan on killing any main cast pokémon, ever. This story has grimdark moments, but I don't want it to be grimdark as a whole.

Out of curiosity, what piece of foreshadowing has you the most intrigued so far? The past three chapters have hinted at a ton of future events, and I'd like to know which of them you're looking forward to the most. It'll help me get an idea of what I should take care not to mess up, haha.

Next chapter, the team finally arrives in Rustboro, ready to challenge Roxanne for the Stone Badge. But as exhausted as they are from their ordeals on the Rainforest Trail, can they prevail in their toughest battle to date?