Flint
Volkner was right—this region does suck.
Well, Celadon City is all right, but it's still pretty trashy for being the "cleanest place in Kanto," as their town slogan reads on a giant plaque right before you enter city limits. Volkner told me something about a "stunning nightlife" (and Volkner rarely uses creative imagery, so I figured it had to be a big deal), but all I saw in relation to "stunning" is the blinding amount of electricity this city uses. In all seriousness, it's an ugly place. The streets are cobblestone, which gives the city a charming, archaic ambiance, but the street sweepers might as well have been cleaning the gutters with used tissues. I swear to God, as Volkner and I tried desperately to hail a taxi once we disembarked from the train, I got hit on by a prostitute. My first five minutes in Kanto, and some chick is already offering me her vagina. Hey, I know I'm hot, but getting propositioned by someone whose job is to have sex with everything that has a pulse is insulting. Volk and I managed to crawl into the backseat of a bus before the heroin-pervaded and extremely smelly whore could give me a second glance.
"You lied to me," I said once Volkner and I were situated in the cracked blue seats of the grimy, nearly-empty vehicle. The entire bus was empty sans us, the bus driver, and a homeless guy completely naked except for a pair of underwear and a ratty tan overcoat, snoring loudly with the right side of his face squished against a pole.
Volkner stared at the guy with bored disdain. It was three in the morning, after all, and everyone was exhausted—Volk and I were beat from having to ride on that goddamned train with the same chick I conned for an additional four hours, pretending to sleep on each other's shoulders while she gave me smoldering glares over her cell phone screen that could easily ignite any flammable object around the three of us. If looks could kill, the Elite Four would be short one member. I'm not sure what the guy trying to reconstruct his face with the bus pole was doing that entailed him going around sans normal clothing, but I assumed it probably involved the mob. Only the bus driver seemed to be chipper, whistling "Good Day Sunshine," because obviously the sun was up. Prick.
"How did I lie to you?" Volkner asked, picking up a wadded-up hamburger wrapper at his feet and tossing it at the sleeping beauty. The man stirred slightly and his snoring momentarily caught, but he was out again in seconds. "I said this place was okay. Not wonderful. This is Kanto, not Unova. You can't expect the building walls to be spotless and the hookers to be contained in brothels. I said there's a good nightlife and an excellent Gym Leader. There's nothing else to it."
"Some fucking good a nightlife does us at three hours before dawn," I snorted. "Even the most hardcore partiers are in bed by two in the morning. Seriously, couldn't we have gotten here any faster?"
"We were on a train," Volkner said levelly, "not a Pidgeot. Be patient. We have three days here—that's plenty of time to go out and have fun. Quit whining and concentrate on when we get off this damn thing."
"The letter said it was the fourth stop from the train station," I remarked. "Man, that's too damn long. I'll bet you even lied to me about the Celadon hotel, too. Five-star? Hah! Ten bucks says there are cockroaches in the bagels during the breakfast hours and Ratattas crawling up the sewage pipes into your ass while you try to take a shit."
Lowering his head, Volkner tucked a strand of his towheaded hair behind his ear, the lock resting perfectly above a large mole he had on his earlobe. Dropping his gaze, he murmured in a voice that was purposely loud enough for me to hear. "I knew I should've taken up Cynthia's offer for a ride," he whispered.
"I heard that," I protested.
"That was my intention," Volkner responded. Stretching back far enough that he nearly hit the grimy bus window with his balled-up fist, Volkner let loose an incredibly loud and exaggerated yawn. "Fuck this, I'm exhausted." Shifting slightly in his seat, he leaned over to his left and rested his very blond head on my shoulder. His eyes were drooping, unsurprisingly—Volkner was never much of a night owl. I'd wanted to go clubbing with him in the early morning hours numerous times during our academy days, but he'd always turned me down for his bed. It was just one of the many quirks he had that made me make fun of him. All in good humor, of course.
"Stay awake, man," I prompted, even though I noticed that my eyelids were getting heavy as well. "It might be far away, but you can't fall asleep on me. You'll stain my shirt with your drool."
"Don't care," Volkner mumbled. He closed his eyes completely. Before I could open my mouth in protest, light snores rose from Volkner's partially open lips, indicating (probably falsely; he was most likely faking it to quit talking to me) that he was asleep.
Disgruntled, I found that I had no choice but to glance out the window at the city life outside, the neon signs and flashing signals of the party district streaking by in flashes of amalgamated color. Even at three o'clock in the morning, I noticed that quite a few people were out and about—I could not focus on any, as the speed of the bus well exceeded any opportunity to study the milling throngs on the sidewalks, but the sheer number of blurring skins was evident. Couples of every sexuality holding hands or kissing, groups of transsexual hookers converging in alleyways, town drunks that believed that rectifying themselves of their addictions constituted of wandering about with no location in mind—all types, all ethnicities, and all genders were out tonight. Kanto was interesting in its broad range of population and the fact that people walked the streets after midnight. Sinnoh's cities were much different; it was like they had a prescribed bedtime, as it was hard to find anything open after twelve, even in places such as Sunyshore or Jubilife.
The mix was intriguing. Maybe I'd have some fun here after all.
"Hey, Volk. This place isn't that bad," I intoned to the yellow head on my shoulder. Volkner continued to snore. I rolled my eyes. Dumbass. What would he do without me? Fall asleep on an adjacent semen-coated public transportation seat, indefinitely. I hated pandering to his quirks, but we were best friends, so I suppose it had to be done.
Gradually, I felt the bus slow, crawling to a steady stop at the cracked corner of an abstract stucco building. Its sickly pastel walls were covered with graffiti, painted with everything from gang signs to obscene words that I tend to use in my everyday vernacular. A shiver crept up my spine, and I could only hope that we were in the rough part of Celadon City. Pulling out the map that Volkner had provided me with after we'd disembarked from the train, I saw that we were only one stop away from the hotel. Thank Arceus. I wanted to get off here pronto. The guy in the man panties and coat hadn't even woken up, and I was concerned about what would happen if he did before Volk and I were gone.
The electronic doors to the bus hissed open, allowing on the fuzzy form of a new passenger that was standing beside a slightly removed lamppost, its single lightbulb flickering ominously as if I was stuck in a horror film. Silently, I prayed that the newcomer wouldn't be a serial killer, as his position beneath the street light seemed to portend. I already had a homeless nudist and potential pedophile with me on here—and Volkner! Jesus, Volkner's temper was more hazardous than any stranger. I was more scared for my life with his cheek on my neck than the guy getting on. At the first warning of danger, I'd be out of here like a Lucario with Extremespeed, despite the fact that my fucking toe was still cracked and I hadn't had time to put it in a cast between the day I'd broken it in Volkner's gym and now. My body tensed just enough to poise myself for bolting if I needed to, but not so violently that I woke Volkner. He got grumpy if he was bothered.
But when the stranger got on, I found myself transfixed.
She—or he, a very effeminate he, because very few women were that flat-chested—swaggered onto the bus with a smooth, long gait, the flat and lanky form shapeless but heavily attractive. Curly waves of luscious red hair hung below their shoulders, greasy and knotted from some sort of onerous physical activity. In spite of it disheveled appearance, I still wanted to run my fingers through the ragged mane, wondering how soft and silky it was when properly washed. The face so elegantly framed by that crimson shock was pale but free of blemishes, a buttonlike nose tacked directly below a set of intensely soulful red eyes that shimmered behind a pair of thick, smudged glasses. The traveler's clothes were simple—cargo khaki pants and a black shirt—but they were blackened with incredibly dark blotches, as if they'd been travailing through a coal mine or something similar. Interestingly enough, after I made mental note of that, I saw a red mining helmet tucked under the crook of their left arm, packed right next to a dark green backpack. Sticking a gloved hand into their pocket, the stranger fished out a dollar to place in the bus's toll box and scanned the interior for a place to sit. Their captivating eyes settled on me, and a cheerful smile swelled across their face.
I'm in love.
"Hello." The stranger had a voice—and it was exceptionally deep, regarding how thin and tiny the speaker appeared to be. Yep, it was definitely a guy. No chick ever sounds that gravelly and, dare I say, sexy. Years ago, I'd discovered that I had no problem sexually cavorting with men as well as women, so my sudden attraction to this superbly fuckable enigma did not surprise me. I'd had my fair share of run-ins with members of the same sex (though I still thought boobs were a lot more fun than nothing on top), because hey—I was in college back then, and college is the time for experimentation. Salient information Volkner never learned about, thankfully. If he ever hears about that particular part of my past, he might actually kill me. No kidding.
"Hey," I responded, amazed at the velvetiness of my tone. Internally, I was flustered, but I guess I wasn't showing it. "What's up?"
"Not much," the guy admitted, shrugging. The time he took to give me answer provided me with a chance to assess his age. He looked extremely young—nineteen at the most. I was hoping he wasn't underage, at least. If he was, pursuing him would make me a total dick. "I'm in town for the Gym Leaders' and Elite Four conference, and I just happened to get here. I'm on my way to the Celadon Hotel. Is that where you're headed?"
Glancing down, I realized that I'd completely overlooked the two Pokeballs on his belt. Oh. "It just so happens that Sparky and I are here for the same reason," I said. Reaching up, I beckoned with one finger and motioned to the empty seat next to me. "Come on, sit your ass down over here."
With an even wider grin, the trainer walked over, his hiking boots tromping loudly on the floor mats as the bus lurched into action once more. His hips swung perceptibly from side to side as he made his way over to me and sat down diffidently to my left, placing his load down on the ground under his feet. When he turned to make eye contact with me, I locked my jaw, fearing that my watering mouth might spill out onto my lap. He smelled enticingly like stone and dust, denoting that he'd been doing some digging. Refrain from the urge to make a dirty joke, Flint. Dirty? Haha, I made one anyway. Oh my Arceus, he's so sexy.
"So you're a Gym Leader?" I inquired, trying to make some sort of effective small talk that may or may not have gotten him into my pants later.
"Yes," the anonymous trainer confirmed. "I'm the leader of the Oreburgh City gym. I just started out a couple of weeks ago."
Oreburgh City? He's from Sinnoh? How the hell have I not seen him before? Each region had their own separate meetings monthly, and both Volkner and I were there to hear about the old dickwad Oreburgh City leader getting kicked out last month for some sort of debauched sex scandal with a sixteen-year-old girl or something, but I'd assumed Riley from Iron Island would've taken over that position. Byron from Canalave City had joint ownership of the Gym in Oreburgh and had asked Riley numerous times to fill that hole, but I suppose he'd turned it down. Still, even though this kid was brand-new, I was stunned that I hadn't heard anything about it until now. Not even Volkner had said anything. "I see," I said, still confused. Regardless, I thrust out my hand in greeting. "Well, welcome to the League. It's full of shit. My name is—"
Smilingly, the young man shook my hand. The connection of his rough glove against my palm was electrifying. "Flint Oba, the Fire-type master of the Sinnoh Elite Four," he finished, cutting me off. "I know very well who you are." To my disappointment, he let go of me and pointed to Volkner, who was now leaving no doubt in my mind that he was out like the lights in his Gym. "And that's Volkner Denzi, the Sunyshore City Gym Leader. I learned about you the first day I was nominated by my father to lead the Oreburgh Gym."
"Who's your daddy?" I asked, trying not to make that sound utterly lecherous. Clearing my throat, I crossed my legs to hide the obvious boner that was poking through the fabric of my black pants. Baggy jeans do not bode well with sexual arousal.
"Byron Hyouta," the kid said. "I'm Roark Hyouta. I grew up in Canalave City and moved to Oreburgh to take over the mine when I turned eighteen. My father has been the Gym Leader in Canalave for most of his life, and he assumed that I'd be able to take over the Oreburgh Gym when the positioned opened up and Riley from Iron Island said he didn't want to do it." Roark blushed and dropped his gaze slightly, gripping his pants with a nervous, shy smile. "Unfortunately, I'm not a very good Gym Leader. I've lost every match I've had so far."
Out of sight of Roark and his sweet ass, I narrowed my eyes. I vaguely recalled Byron talking about having a son from his late wife, but I probably hadn't been listening at the time to catch his name. To be frank, Byron was a loudmouth and a drunkard, and he groped practically everything that moved. He hadn't hit on me or Volkner yet, mercifully, but I was expecting it any day now. I wondered how any woman had tolerated him long enough to copulate and produce this awfully handsome spawn. Even more curiously, how had she passed away? I didn't know, and didn't really care to find out—considering that she was with Byron, I'm sure it was a freak accident of some sort. Still, I did pity Roark, especially since he was so damn cute and his dad was such a prick.
"You'll get used to it," I promised. "Volkner here used to lose a shit-ton of matches before he got really good at fucking up the minds of every challenger by constantly renovating his Gym. Pray tell that you don't become like him in his early days. Stick with it. Being in the League might feel like crap sometimes, with the pay and accommodations and lack of vacation days, but it's fun. I swear."
"Yeah, that's what my dad says," Roark agreed. He folded his hands modestly in his lap and smiled down at his hands. I want to jump his bones. Right now.
I pointed to his mussed, threadbare outfit. "You run the Oreburgh mine? I guess that explains your clothes," I mused. To be honest, I thought his filthy appearance was kind of sexy. It made him seem to be the type of rugged outdoorsman that you might find in a low-budget porno. Volkner, on the other hand, was still on the verge of death and being his characteristically unattractive self. Volkner wouldn't make porn; he'd protest it in a nun's habit or something. At that image, something perished within me. Well, hey, at least that softened my boner. I uncrossed my legs, now free of incipient horniness.
Roark immediately brightened at the mention of his hobby. "Yeah, I do!" He exclaimed, effervescent as champagne bubbles. "I love the mine. It's my second home. Oreburgh has a fantastic coal reserve, and the vein seems to run deep underground. We could power Sinnoh for quite a few decades with the amount of fuel we unearth." I saw him visibly puff up with pride before deflating momentarily and blushing slightly, the pink tinge coloring his blanched cheeks. "… And I was in the Underground, helping some tourists find fossils before getting packed to travel. I didn't have time to change. Sorry about that. I… I didn't think I'd find anybody good-looking enough for me to worry about my appearance." He slid me a covert look that was almost sly in its stealth.
My heart leaped and caught itself in my throat. Is he… calling me—
Screech. Abruptly, the bus driver slammed on the brakes, apparently forgetting that another stop was coming up in a second. My thoughts were discontinued as the vehicle staggered to a halt, sending me close to tumbling over Volkner's lap. At that moment, Volkner decided to wake up, and looked down with a halfhearted grunt at the sight of my face buried in his crotch. "You aren't getting any tonight, Flint," he told me before plucking me quietly by my afro from his pants and discarding me back in my original spot.
Scoffing, I brushed myself off. "What makes you think I want to sleep with you?" I snorted. "I found someone much more alluring than you'd ever hope to be." I motioned to Roark, believing that my flirt would be reciprocated, seeing as the guy basically made a pass on my cock. At least, that's what I thought, but when I noticed Roark's face color to the shade of his striking hair, I realized I'd made a dire mistake.
"E-erm, thank you very much for keeping me company," Roark stammered hastily, standing up so quickly that he nearly toppled over in his enormous boots. "I'll s-see you two at the c-conference, I-I suppose?" Struggling to gather his items, he dipped his head respectfully but rapidly. Wasting no time—nor any more breath—Roark dashed off the bus, virtually leaving skid marks behind in his alacrity. The high I'd been riding for the last few minutes or so instantly plummeted, falling into the pit of my acidic stomach and gobbling it up, leaving behind nothing but a feeling of serious regret. Great. My one recent chance at getting a hookup, and I royally screwed it over. What would be next? Volkner being shocked at my fractional homosexuality?
"I thought you only liked chicks," Volkner observed blandly, watching Roark go with minor amusement. "Why are you hitting on the exceptionally young leader of the Oreburgh Gym, out of curiosity?"
Damn. He didn't even seem shaken. How disappointing. And he did know about Roark being the new leader. Asshole, not keeping me updated on these kinds of things. "He's adorable," I said. "That candy ass is irresistible. Well, would've been, anyway, had I not opened my big mouth like that."
"It's your stupid hair that gives you brass balls," Volkner said. "And you wonder why you never get laid. Byron's going to castrate you, by the way."
"Byron doesn't have to know," I complained.
"He'll probably find out one way or another," Volkner said. Standing up, he thrust his finger in the direction of the exit of the bus. "This is the hotel stop. Now get out and check in with me so we can go to bed. Also, if I hear you use the terminology 'candy ass' ever again in my presence, I will break your other toe." Pivoting on his heel, Volkner grabbed our shared duffel bag and left the automobile, leaving me alone with the cheeseburger-reeking driver and the semi-naked vagabond, who still showed no sign of awakening. Perhaps he was dead. I was tempted to go over and poke him to make sure, but I decided not to tempt fate. Sighing, I rose and hobbled onto the street, being careful not to touch the gritty interior of the vehicle as I did so. Volkner was waiting for me on the concrete curb when I arrived, his face bordered by the wild lights of Celadon city. Giving me a distasteful sniff, Volkner walked inside the Celadon Hotel beneath its impressive awning, not allowing me to catch up with him.
As I followed him in, I had a passing image of Roark, paying the toll to the bus driver.
I have really got to stop being an asshole sometimes.