Hello, hi! –waves– Welcome to Chapter Four of Johto Adventures! Thanks for the reviews! (:
There's quite a bit of Contestshipping as well as Hoennshipping in this chapter. Hope you liked it! I also tried to shift the attention from Romance to Adventure, but the shippers in me are putting up quite a resistance. Efufu. (And I call myself a Pokemon enthusiast.)
Anyway, as an attempt to compensate for this, I'm going to write some Pokemon romance. As in, Pokemon x Pokemon. –slygrin– But the main romantic focus will definitely be on the lovely Drew, May, and Brendan. Oh, and Marina, Jimmy, and Silver. . . (:
Well, on with the story! Again, I am still accepting OCs! –pokes–
Chapter Four: Cherrygrove City and Some New Rules
Route 29—10:14, September 4: Tuesday
"Holy Miltank!" Maybelline Sapphire Maple exclaimed, jumping up and down while still pointing at the figure on the horizon, which seemed to be minimizing as it drew away. "It's DREW!"
And then, without further ado, the brown-haired began sprinting towards the direction of the horizon. She thought she could feel Brendan and Max's gazes on her back, but she didn't really care—it was DREW, after all! Even though they had just seen each other a few days ago, May felt like it had been a lifetime. For some reason, May always felt oddly lonely when Drew was not around, though for some even odder reason Brendan compensated quite a bit for this.
The green-haired Coordinator, who previously had his back turned to May, pivoted on the spot just as May hurled herself at him. He stumbled, and May buried him in a huge hug. May heard the varied clatter of her Pokemon's feet on the dust road as they neared Drew and her, but couldn't really care.
"Why, hello, May," Drew said in his low, silky voice—May could have sworn it dropped by half an octave—as soon as May had relinquished her iron-grip on his waist. He was still garbed in his usual outfit of black turtle-neck sweater, collared lavender vest, and turquoise pants. She noticed Drew's Roselia staring up at her, wearing her usual serene expression.
"Hi!" May exclaimed breathlessly, beaming happily at her green-haired rival.
Drew cocked his head to one side, sweeping his jade gaze over May's outfit. She immediately began feeling self-conscious, but she didn't say anything about it.
"I see your horrible fashion taste hasn't changed much over the course of four days."
"I see your large ego hasn't deflated. And besides, I didn't design my absolutely dazzling outfit."
"Really? I had thought that only you would be able to concoct a set of clothes so hideous. Evidently I was wrong." Drew replied smugly, flipping his hair. May's left eye twitched—though the green-haired Coordinator did not know it, he was implying that Brendan did not have a sense of fashion. The brown-haired Coordinator was able to sustain insults thrown at her quite well—partly because no conversation with Drew could be complete without an attack on her in some form—but at her friends? May could not stand that.
"Excuse me!" She huffed, crossing her arms over her chest and jutting her chin into the air. Her somewhat poofy brown side-bangs lifted and fell with the gust of small wind.
Fortunately, before Drew could reply, Brendan had appeared by May's side. She stole a sidelong glance at Brendan, and noticed that he was wearing an exceedingly stern frown on his angular face. Moreover, his white-cloth hat was slightly crooked, which was most uncharacteristic of May's constitutional and ridiculously neat friend, revealing a portion of his dark hair.
"This is. . .?" Drew asked, his green gaze flitting from May's face to Brendan's. In response, the black-haired Trainer tensed his muscles, reminding May instantly of a predatory Pokemon about to leap on another predatory Pokemon that had invaded his space. Feeling that Brendan looked as if he didn't really want to answer Drew's question, May completed that task for him. The brown-haired girl noticed suddenly that Brendan was of identical height with Drew—and that both boys were ridiculously tall.
"Brendan Birch. He's my old childhood friend, from Littleroot Town." May answered.
There was a silence of five seconds, before Brendan, very jerkily and reluctantly, offered his hand to Drew. The green-haired Coordinator stared at Brendan's semi-gloved hand for another five seconds before, with jerkiness and reluctance rival to the black-haired Trainer's, grabbing it. The handshake lasted half a second.
"I am Drew Rosalind of La Rousse." Drew finally said. Brendan grunted suspiciously in return, though his ruby eyes glazed in recognition. "I'm a top Coordinator." He added, as if unable to restrain himself.
"Really." Brendan ground out, voice dripping with skepticism. May wondered why Brendan was doubting Drew's ability—though she hated to admit it, he was an awesome Coordinator, although at times he did mistreat his Pokemon. . . that one incident with his Absol was enough to scar May for a lifetime.
"Yes." Drew replied suavely, reverting his gaze back to May, as if Brendan were of little to no importance. Then, addressing May, he asked, "Why's this guy following you around?" Rather rudely, he thrust a thumb in Brendan's direction; the said Trainer looked highly offended.
"He's not following me around! He's traveling with me!" May retorted indignantly. As if on cue, her Eevee jumped on her shoulder—May staggered at the DNA Pokemon's weight—and her Squirtle came hurling into her right ankle, sobbing for some reason or another. She bent down to calm him, and when she looked up, May thought she caught a glimmer of resentment in Drew's alluring emerald eyes.
"Yeah! So what cha gonna do about it, huh? Huh?" Brendan asked in an annoying voice very much unlike his usual studious self, sticking his face in Drew's. The green-haired Coordinator took an uncertain step backwards, glancing at his Roselia as if for guidance. The Rose Pokemon simply shrugged. May was rather taken aback, though she didn't express this beyond the raising of her two eyebrows.
"I suppose I won't do anything; losers, like you two, attract." Drew replied in a calm but nasty voice, narrowing his eyes and sniggering slightly. May's face pinked; Brendan's turned a more splendid shade of crimson reminiscent of his own eye color. Shifting his weight onto his left leg, Drew placed his right hand behind his back; a moment later, he had procured an amaranth-red rose, dew dripping from its fine petals, and had tossed it casually to May.
May caught it easily, not fearing any thorns, for Drew always plucked them out for her, though why, she was not entirely sure of yet. She glanced at Brendan, worried what he might seen for the whole rose-tossing thing may appear a little suspicious to anyone unfamiliar with it, and felt trepidation froth in her stomach when she saw the horror and flabbergastion etched in every line of Brendan's now pallid-looking face.
In an attempt to assure Brendan that the roses were of completely. . . er . . . normal origin, May asked Drew before he could leave, "What's the rose for this time?"
Drew, in the process of turning his back on her, turned his head one last time to face before replying, "For getting to Johto alive." Finishing that, he flicked his hair and began walking away, his Roselia striding obediently behind him.
Part of May wanted to chase Drew and yank his hair out for insulting her like that; the other part simply wanted to savor the flowery scent of Drew's rose. She contented herself with taking one whiff of the rose's smell and then stuffed it into her bag; then, turning towards Brendan, she was somewhat surprised to see him wear a practically murderous expression; his red gaze staring fixedly at Drew's figure until it disappeared over the horizon line.
The black-haired Trainer shook his head as if trying to rid himself of a particularly insidious thought; May had never before seen him quite like that, excluding the time she gave Wally a kiss of gratitude on the cheek after he helped her locate her father's gym badges after Max had, in one of his frequent bad moods, had scattered them all around Petalburg Forest.
Brendan, as if noticing that May was looking intently at him, plastered on a cheerful smile and suggested, "Well, I guess I'll send out my Pokemon, too, huh? Johto's quite different from Hoenn, Kanto, or Sinnoh." It was almost impossible to discern from his current expression the hatred he had revealed before. Then, without waiting for a reply, he unclipped his Pokeballs from his green belt and flung them all into the air.
May tore her eyes off of Brendan to watch with childlike awe as six different-sized figures burst out from the opening red hoods of Brendan's Pokeballs. One beam of red light shot skywards, forming a huge, bulky but rounded figure that solidified into a large tangerine-orange Dragon; the Dragon Pokemon continuously beat her relatively small, leathery myrtle wings to keep airborne. A Venetian red scarf was tied around the Dragonite's left arm, an accessory of some sort.
Brendan's Swampert came out next, gurgling water in his throat in a benevolent sort of way, but May edged away anyway—she didn't want to be hit by another 'Muddy Water' attack after all; for some reason, all Mudkip and their evolutions strongly disliked her, or simply enjoyed splashing her with their water attacks. May's Squirtle eyed the larger water-typed Pokemon with apprehension—May half-expected him to come running into her ankles again, but thankfully he did not.
At the exact same time, Brendan's Aggron and Shiftry shimmered into being next to Zuzu, his Swampert. The Iron Armor Pokemon gave a ferocious roar for no apparent reason, lashing her heavy slate gray tail violently, as if seeking a battle. The two ivory bands of what appeared to be bone glistened in the noon sun; upon further examination, May noticed that the Aggron's gray plated-body was scratched, most likely relics of previous battles.
The Shiftry's snowy-white mane rippled with the slightest gust of wind; he hopped away on his two stilt-like brown legs. The Wicked Pokemon's skin appeared wood-like—when May worked up the courage to brush her bare elbow against it, she pulled away at the unexpected rough texture. The grass-and-dark typed Pokemon turned to survey her, his long, branch-like nose almost poking into her forehead; instinctively, she retreated. However, May's Munchlax seemed to be not intimidated by the Shiftry's frightening appearance and walked straight into the Wicked Pokemon's mane. Bemused, the Shiftry flapped his green, leaf-like hands.
The next thing that caught May's attention was Brendan's Milotic. The Tender Pokemon appeared in a coiled position, humbling her own serpentine beauty. Her cyan-scaled tail glimmered in the sunlight, creating a subtly dazzling effect; May could not help but admiringly watch the Milotic, who was looking around at May's Pokemon, evidently unimpressed. May's Blaziken, however, approached the Tender Pokemon (May didn't know why); the Milotic didn't seem quite taken to him, however, and merely stiffened as the Blaze Pokemon drew closer.
Brendan's last Pokemon took a very humanoid form, though it was taller than May by a good foot. As soon as it solidified, May noticed that it was a Gallade; the Pokemon flexed his bladed celadon arms and looked around, similar to Brendan's Aggron in the action of seeking a battle, though judging by the Blade Pokemon's dignified appearance, May thought he was probably seeking a more dignified battle. But, as if contradicting the Gallade's courteous countenance, the Pokemon narrowed his dark red eyes when he saw Blaziken approaching Milotic.
May, still busy ogling Brendan's Pokemon, managed to choke out a respectful, "Latios, your Pokemon look strong!" in her black-haired friend's direction.
"Thanks," Brendan said in reply, walking over to his Aggron and laying his right hand on her head, as if attempting to calm the battle-hungry Pokemon down. He partially succeeded—Aggron continued to lash her tail, but she stopped roaring. "All right, everyone! Let's get moving to Cherrygrove; at this pace, we're never going to get there!" Brendan shouted, addressing all of his and May's Pokemon, as well as a still-reading Max.
Route 29—07:00, September 5: Wednesday
Brendan Ruby Birch awoke with a jolt. His eyelids fluttered open, and his red eyes darted around wildly. It took him approximately half a second to realize that he was merely waking up according to his normal schedule.
There was a nasty ache in his right shoulder; pushing himself reluctantly to his feet, Brendan eyed the gamboge-vermillion rising sun and rubbed his sore, stifling a yawn. He turned lazily to his left to survey the curled-up sleeping figure of May, several feet away from his own make-shift sleeping bag which was composed of leaves cleaned by May's Squirtle and his Milotic's 'Water Guns/Pulses' and squashed accordingly by a most eager Aggron, then cut up and positioned by his Gallade and May's Blaziken, who both worked unnaturally quickly, as if engaged in some sort of competition.
She looks like an angel when she's asleep, Brendan noted dreamily as May turned over in her sleep. Her coffee-brown hair was sprawled messily over her face, and her usually bouncy side-bangs had been subdued into a limp; the girl's bandana and red blouse were lying in a neat pile by the side of her pillow-less head. Strike that. She looks like an angel all the time.
Brendan wondered if she was cold in her simple attire of long white T-shirt and shorts; after a few moments of pondering, he shed his own vest—he, too, was wearing a white T-shirt underneath—and placed it on top of May (they didn't make a leaf-blanket, because Brendan could not stand the unhygienic of it all and Max said the leaves were itchy.) Out of care, he then turned to make sure that Max was still asleep on the right of Brendan's leaf-bed; the blue-haired boy was indeed still in dream-land.
Stretching, the black-haired Trainer clamped his ungloved hands over his mouth to stop another yawn from exiting his mouth. He shrugged fatigue away from his body and, with new energy, plucked his fingerless yellow gloves from atop his green backpack and vociferously shoved them onto his hands, flexing them after he had finished. Afterwards, Brendan seized his green Pokeball belt and clipped it neatly around his waist.
Finding his black-red sneakers by the foot of his makeshift bed, Brendan stuffed his feet into them and made his way to the dirt-road. He gazed east, and saw the trail of sundry footprints May, Max, him, and all of their Pokemon had made. Then, gazing west at the gradually slanting-down slope, he thought he saw a sliver of a rooftop and quickly calculated the distance it would take to get there, deciding at last that they still had a few hours' of traveling to do.
Johto was the most modernized region of all—though Brendan had only been here for a couple of days, he could already tell. Judging purely on sanitation of the Pokemon Center, Brendan could tell that the Johtoans were clearly people of etiquette. It made a startling contrast to Hoenn, the least modernized region, and its comparably ramshackle building. Brendan smiled, for it meant that there was considerably less walking distance from town to town, though he wouldn't rely solely upon that observation to dictate his group's traveling route.
Of course, Brendan could always hop onto his Mach Bike and zip from town to town in less than several hours. However, upon learning that May's Acro Bike had been obliterated by Ash's Pikachu's 'Thunderbolt' attack, Brendan decided that he wouldn't use his own bike that much in their travels, unless they managed to acquire one in a city somewhere. But from what he had deduced from the conversations he and May shared, Max probably didn't know how to ride a bike, which could prove to be an obstacle later on.
Brendan unclipped a Pokeball from his belt and flung it into the air, watching as the snake-like figure of his Milotic shimmered into being. She was in a coiled-up position, and her horned head was lying on her tail—obviously, the Tender Pokemon had been asleep. The Milotic woke up surprisingly quickly; Brendan guessed this was because of the stark temperature difference between the cozy interior of a Pokeball and the chilly autumn air of Johto.
The Milotic watched Brendan with some contempt; the black-haired Trainer knew as well as anybody how she did not like to be disturbed while sleeping. Brendan, however, didn't feel enough sympathy for the Pokemon to apologize—despite the Water-typed Pokemon's reptilian appearance, she was really warm-blooded, and thus able to maintain her own body temperature. Besides, Brendan's hygienic phobia was practically screaming to be taken care of.
"A light 'Water Pulse', please, Mimi," Brendan ordered with all the politeness he could muster, drawing an invisible arc through the air where he wanted the water-typed attack to follow. He suddenly realized with a nasty feeling in the pit of his stomach that what he had nicknamed his Milotic was the name of that weird girl he and May had met in New Bark Town. Mimi, his Milotic, gave a small scowl but obeyed.
Immersing his face in the cold water, Brendan hurriedly washed his hands and face, cursing himself for forgetting to bring soap. His heart skipped a beat as the whimsical possibility (suggested no doubt by his Automysophobia) that he would die of not ridding himself of all dirt flitted across his mind, but he dismissed it, albeit not completely.
He gasped as he withdrew his face from the stream of water, which now ended as Mimi snapped her mouth shut. Coldness stung at his face, and he hurriedly mopped his face with a tissue.
"Miii," The Milotic grumbled irritably, swishing her fan-like tail back and forth.
"Oh, right, back in here you go," Brendan said, hurriedly wrenching open the Pokeball's cover and withdrawing his Pokemon in a beam of red light. He heard a content 'miii' from Mimi inside her Pokeball. He proceeded to unclip his Gallade's Pokeball from his belt, and flung that into the air, sending out the Blade Pokemon.
'Is there something required of me, master?' The psychic-typed Pokemon inquired politely, sending the question telepathically to Brendan, who was not the least bit startled. His Gallade had used this method of communication with him on many occasions, and more than once it cleared up hazy misunderstandings that occurred between Brendan and his Pokemon.
"Yes, Ruru," Brendan answered, addressing his Gallade by nickname. Ruru fidgeted slightly at the mention of his nickname; Brendan knew only too well that he didn't like it all that much, but the black-haired Trainer had always thought the nickname to be cute and decided that he would slap it onto the next Pokemon had met. (Which, unfortunately for Ruru, happened to be the Gallade, a Ralts, then.) "Our morning training session, or have you forgotten?"
'Ah, yes.' Ruru replied thoughtfully. Then, leisurely flexing his supple limbs, the Gallade leapt backwards, drawing a semi-circle on the dusty ground with his left foot, pulling himself into battle-stance. 'I will surely defeat you.'
Brendan raised an eyebrow at his Pokemon's sudden burst of confidence. Ruru had certainly not been so self-assured before. Perhaps his recent evolution had gotten to his head. Well, at least it's better than fighting a Kirlia, Brendan thought dryly to himself, hurrying backwards and stretching to warm up his athletic body. "Er. . . so, ready, Ruru?"
'Always,' The Gallade murmured in reply. 'The question is. . . are you?"
Without waiting for a reply, the Blade Pokemon lunged forwards and slashed at Brendan's midriff with a glowing-pink right blade. The Trainer, caught off-guard, was hit by the 'Psycho Cutter' attack in full force. Clutching his stomach, Brendan staggered backwards; though they had 'trained' together several times before when Ruru was a Gallade, the Pokemon's seemingly unlimited store of strength and energy still impressed the black-haired Trainer.
While Brendan was still recovering from the powerful first blow, Ruru leapt forwards again, slashing now at Brendan's back; however, despite his unprepared appearance, Brendan was actually waiting for his Gallade's first move, and dodged the attack by nimbly stepping to the right. All that Ruru's 'Psycho Cutter' hit was thin air.
Taking advantage of the Gallade's temporary disorientation, Brendan hurled forwards like a madman, knocking the humanoid Pokemon on his side. Not stopping, the Trainer fired a flurry of fast punches at Ruru's abdomen, careful to avoid hitting his fist on the red, knife-like protrusion from the center of the Gallade's chest.
Ruru's energy replenished unnaturally quickly. The Gallade easily shoved the light human off of himself, and, almost with invisible speed, darted forwards and laid a fine, freakishly sharp arm-blade to the nape of Brendan's neck. The black-haired shuddered at the cold touch of his Gallade, and lifted his gloved hands into the air to signal his defeat.
As the Gallade pulled back, Brendan's mind registered the small amount of seconds it took Ruru to overpower him. He supposed that the Gallade really had learned something worthwhile when he was a Kirlia. The Gallade in question was looking expectantly at Brendan, waiting for his Trainer to make a comment.
"You. . . you've really improved from when you were a Kirlia," Brendan finally remarked. Ruru's orange eyes glittered with satisfaction—praise from the studious Trainer was hard to receive (unless he was commenting on something's 'cuteness'.)
'Thank you, master,' Ruru said gratefully. Brendan raised the Gallade's Pokeball, preparing to open the hood and return his Pokemon, but the Gallade didn't seem to be finished. 'May I speak with you for a moment?'
"Uh, sure, go ahead, Ruru," Brendan said, wondering what it was that could possibly be on the Gallade's mind.
'I was just wondering. . . could you send us out of our Pokeballs more often? I would, ah, like to see more of Johto as well as socialize with this May-girl's Pokemon.' Ruru said carefully. Brendan waited, expecting more. Indeed, the Gallade continued, 'And perhaps challenge May's most honorable Blaziken to a dual.'
"A dual?" Brendan frowned, scratching the side of his chin. "That sounds a little too. . . er. . . serious. How about just a friendly battle?"
The Gallade pursed his thin mouth into a line. 'I suppose that would suffice.'
"Oh, and it would probably be best if you had your little 'dual' after May's first Contest. She seemed pretty hyped up about it all, and if you do happen to defeat her Blaziken, well, I really don't want anything to happen to shatter her self-confidence."
'I see you care a lot for May.' Ruru commented. Brendan redirected his gaze onto the Gallade—it had previously settled itself quite contentedly in the direction of May's sleeping body.
"How. . .? Did you read my mind again, Ruru? We agreed that it would do to respect others' privacy?" Brendan asked, unnerved. Then, before he could stop himself, he added with much relish, "Besides, I didn't make you evolve into a Gardevoir."
Ruru cocked his head to one side. Brendan wondered if the Gallade was pondering the option of whether or not to slice his head clean off; thankfully, though, Ruru did not choose to go in that direction. 'No. I could just tell from your expression and the way you narrated your speech.'
"Oh, um, okay then. . . Well, you deserve an extra hour of sleep in your Pokeball," Brendan said, wondering if he could ever win a 'spar' against his Gallade again and returning Ruru in a beam of red light.
Sighing quietly, he proceeded back to their small camp, intending to wake May up. Angels must rise to their duties, after all.
Cherrygrove City—11:41, September 5: Wednesday
Maybelline Sapphire Maple exclaimed in delight as they stepped through the iron-wrought gate, overridden with twining dark green ivy. She looked around herself, inhaling the sweet scent of cherries as it wafted over from the various cherry groves that surrounded the small city.
Fuchsia-painted rectangular sheets of wood made up most of the houses' roofs. The main components of each pink-roofed building were light-pink bricks. May wondered vaguely how the male inhabitants of Cherrygrove City took to the feminine colors of the city, and could only feel sympathy. She saw a Contest Hall erected in the distance.
To her right, Brendan was surveying the scene, while to her left, Max was scrutinizing the painted-white signpost. A few moments later, the blue-haired boy declared formally:
"Cherrygrove City, the city of cute, fragrant flowers."
The brown-haired Coordinator paused in her exclamations of delight to raise her thin eyebrows at the somewhat lame motto. Brendan, too, looked equally unimpressed. Max merely pushed his large glasses further up his nose bridge and began walking into the city without waiting for her sister or their traveling companion, or their Pokemon.
"Brendan? Do you think we should return our Pokemon now?" May asked as they made their way down the cobbled stone road; indeed, the group stuck out from the townspeople, and they certainly earned more than one strange sidelong glance from passerby. Brendan nodded and flipped his Pokeballs into the air in one fluid motion, returning his Pokemon smoothly.
Being a bit of a klutz, it took May some five minutes to return all of her Pokemon, even with the combined help of Brendan and Max. Her Eevee proved to be exceedingly troublesome, employing her 'Dig' attacks only too well on the paved streets of Cherrygrove City as she expertly dodged each beam of red light fired at her limber brown body.
When May finally managed to return all of her Pokemon and stuff them into her dandelion-colored fanny pack, Max shot her a nasty glare and continued walking through the growing crowd. May's stomach gave a grumble of hunger, and embarrassedly, she looked at Brendan, but he was too busy trying to fight his way through the crowd without looking too conspicuous—he was easily half a foot taller than those around himself. In fact, May felt somewhat dwarf-like in his presence.
Postponing the eventual and unavoidable demand for food, May jostled her own way through the crowd, following the back of Brendan's black vest, which, to her growing annoyance, blended in quite well with the crowds' varying shades of brown suits. She contented herself with following the black-haired Trainer's white-clothed hat, and prayed that they would find the Pokemon Center as soon as possible.
She stepped through the sliding door of the Pokemon Center, her prayers answered. Her ultramarine gaze swept over the inside of the building, and noted with grim satisfaction that, oddly enough, the healing center was mostly deserted. Perhaps the Trainers had all gone out to lunch?
Brendan was conversing with the pink-haired Nurse Joy, who, a few moments later, handed him a bronze key, which was instantly snatched out of his gloved left hand by an impatient Max. Said indigo-haired boy then immediately hightailed it up the escalator, clutching in one hand said key and the other his magazine. May noticed that he had evidently finished 'NeoBattling' and had swapped to another magazine.
The black-haired Trainer, after watching Max hurl himself upstairs, turned to May and beckoned for her to follow. Drifting after Brendan, May paused to examine her surroundings—the peachy walls were plastered in most places with posters of a mainly pink Contest Halls—and to wave cheerily at the pink-haired nurse, who waved back.
Following Brendan to their room (213, this time), May wrenched off her bag and slung it over the bed post, the minty scents of any regular Pokemon Center boarding room filling her nose and the soft carpeting silencing her footsteps. Her knees wobbled as her stomach gave an urgent sort of growl, and pathetically, she turned to her black-haired friend, who was removing his cloth-hat and placing it on the bed atop her own. Despite her near-starvation status, May still admiringly observed Brendan's raven hair and wondered how he styled it so that it looked so messily attractive.
It was then that May remembered the rose Drew had given her some hours ago. She withdrew the slightly crumpled flower from her fanny pack, marveled its stem's smooth texture and the softness of its vivid red petals, before plopping it daintily in a clear, water-filled container on the table. May thought she saw Brendan's eyes flash with distaste, but then it passed.
"You're hungry?" Brendan guessed as May collapsed onto the floor, clutching her stomach. She could only nod wearily. "I see. Well, Max, mark your page; we're going to eat lunch."
Max shot Brendan an irritable glance before tiredly closing his magazine. May, now filled with an inner energy, beamed, "Let's get going!" at Brendan and, grabbing her fanny pack once again, happily bounced out of the room, feeling her side-bangs flop up and down as she hopped down the escalator.
Cherrygrove City—14:01, September 5: Wednesday
Brendan Ruby Birch watched as May bubbly registered for the Contest. While she conversed with the blue-haired lady behind the (redundantly) pink counter, the black-haired Trainer took the time to examine the pitiful remains of his money after May had consumed a few dozen bowls of ramen at the ramen shop. He regretted ever offering to treat her to lunch, and resolved to learn from his (fatal?) mistake. Oh, well. I'll just win several battles against other Trainers, and then my money pouch will be full again in no time.
"What? They added more sections to the Contest?" Brendan heard May ask the lady behind the counter in an incredulous voice. Interest piqued, the black-haired Trainer decided to eavesdrop on their conversation, and took the pretense of craning his neck to read over Max's shoulder, even though his horrible eyesight didn't even allow him that leisure had he chosen to actually try to read.
"Yes. Did nobody inform you of this?" The lady asked, sounding as though she were forcing a frown into her voice.
"No. . ." May trailed off. Brendan spared her a glance and noticed that she was nipping at her black-clothed fingertips with her teeth, an old nervous habit of hers. Oddly enough, though, he had never seen her use it since they met on the S.S. Tidal; perhaps his presence had something to do with sparking it again? His face pinked at the thought, and he silently, he scolded himself for his self-flattering. "Could you please explain these two extra features of the Contests to me, please?"
"Very well," The blue-haired lady said somewhat exasperatingly. "First, instead of directly appealing, you dress up your Pokemon,"—Brendan's ears perked up at the words; he had a great knack for dressing up his Pokemon, but of course, only May and Wally knew about this—"and a special instrument measures the volume of the audience that determines part of your grade in this section. The three judges' votes determine the other half of your score in this section, and they judge based on the creativity of the outfit, how compatible the outfit is with the Pokemon, among some other things. No Pokemon moves may be used in the Dress-Up part of the Contest. Usually, the top thirty-two then goes to the next part of the Contest.
"The next part of the Contest is the dancing part." The lady continued. May looked at her, raising quizzical eyebrows, and she continued to explain, "We split the thirty-two Coordinators and their Pokemon into eight parts, each consisting of four Coordinators and their Pokemon. One Coordinator's Pokemon is to invent a series of intuitive, thirty-second dance moves—none must be type-exclusive—and then the other three Pokemon are to try their best at imitating. We use both computer-image processing, the volume of the audience, and the judge's votes to decide the two Coordinators and their Pokemon that are to continue onto the Appeal Section of the Contest.
"The Appeal section is just that. Sixteen Coordinators appeal with their Pokemon, and they are permitted to use either their Dress-Up Pokemon or their Dance Pokemon to appeal. Eight Coordinators and their Pokemon go on to the final section of the Contest: the Battling. I trust you know what that is. The Coordinator must select either their Dress-Up, Dancing, or Appealing Pokemon to do battle. Now, any questions?" The lady asked, plastering on a large but rather fake-looking smile.
May took a while to comprehend the vast amount of information given to her, and Brendan smirked at her small display of naivety, thinking it to be cute. "Yeah, actually, I do have one question," May said at last. "Why are the new rules so complicated?"
The lady smiled again. "Its main purpose is to instigate a series of safeguards to insure that less worthy Coordinators don't find a way to squirm their way into collecting five ribbons."
"Aah," May answered, though she still looked like she had questions on her mind. Brendan noticed the growing line behind herself, and began to feel concerned for his friend. She had taken up the better part of ten minutes, after all. "Wait, when's the next Contest?"
"Tomorrow," The blue-haired lady answered crisply, dropping her patient smile and revealing obvious impatience underneath her crumpled fatigue. "Next, please!"
The brown-haired Coordinator hurriedly stepped out of line and walked towards Brendan. She opened her mouth to inform him of the changes in the Contest, but he simply nodded to indicate that he had heard. However, May still seemed as if she were unhappy about something or other. Angrily, she remarked, "Well, I don't care what they say, these new Contest sections are far too hard to bypass!"
Brendan thought he heard worry under her dissatisfied attitude. He guessed that she was most likely worried about whether or not she would be able to pass the two new requirements; and Brendan was ready to bet his entire wardrobe that May didn't have any clothes for her Pokemon. (Fortunately for her, though, he did.) However, Brendan wisely refrained from commenting—he had a good suspicion that May was in 'fire-breathing' mode.
Instead, he simply nodded along as May continued to rant about the injustice of it all.
Cherrygrove City—14:56, September 5: Wednesday
Maybelline Sapphire Maple inhaled sharply as she stumbled over a stray patch of grass growing in the town center. Brendan shot out a hand to steady her; May noticed instantly that his hand was ridiculously smooth, as if he had never gripped a Pokeball before in his entire life. For some reason as well, her lightly-tanned face flooded with color at the contact as well, and she flinched from the oddly pleasant sensation of his touch.
"Thanks," May said, shooting Brendan a grateful but somewhat delayed smile, owing to her taking up approximately ten seconds of her time studying his face and wondering just how it was he could keep retain such an untainted (and kind of ghostly, but in an eerily beautiful sort of way) milky-white complexion.
"No problem," Brendan replied; then, as if he could not stop himself, he blurted, "Would you like me to help you with the Dress-up section of the Contest tomorrow?"
"Could you really?" May asked, feeling gratitude glitter all over her blue eyes. "That would be awesome! Wait, are you still knitting shirts for your Pokemon?"
She hadn't intended her words to come out suspicious, but it must have, because Brendan began uncomfortably lifting the black collar of his short-sleeved vest up and down, as if he were feeling exceedingly warm. "Uh. . ." He answered uncertainly; glancing around to make sure that Max had indeed gone to the Pokemon Center as May had requested him to, he dropped his voice to a low whisper and continued, "Yes, as a matter of fact. But don't tell anyone—if my dad hears, he'll throw a fit." He shuddered.
"Don't worry, I won't tell anyone!" May reassured him. Then, before she could restrain herself, she asked, "Why would your dad get angry? From what I know of him and the time he helped rescue me from those Tentacool"—May stopped to shudder herself—"he's a really decent father."
Brendan's face instantly darkened, and May began regretting asking him the question. What could be wrong in his family? She asked herself, wallowing in her guiltiness. However, the apparition of a certain green-haired teenager caught her eye, and, tearing her gaze wistfully off of Brendan's shadowed ruby eyes, she looked to her right, only to witness Drew trying (desperately?) to pull a hand-woven purple shirt over a very stubborn Roselia's head.
"Hey! Drew! What're you doing?" May asked, bouncing over to her rival's side, completely forgetting about Brendan. She couldn't help but giggle—the sight of Drew trying to make his Roselia wear the shirt was ridiculously comical. It was rare to see the green-haired Coordinator unsuccessful in any venture.
"Merely trying to get Roselia to wear this shirt." Drew answered. His right eye twitched ever so slightly as the Rose Pokemon, with a defiant sort of 'Zelll!' tore off her lavender shirt and thrust it at Drew's feet.
"Oh, she doesn't seem to like it very much," May giggled again, as she watched Drew hastily pick up the shirt from the ground.
The green-haired Coordinator, trying to look dignified, flipped his hair a little quicker than usual. "Why wouldn't she? It is an article of high class art." Roselia stared, dumbfounded, at her Coordinator, but made no comment except for a small 'Liia.'
"And I'm a Grumpig," May said, making a somewhat pitiful stab at sarcasm.
"You speak only truth," Drew said coolly; his reply colored May's face a most majestic purple.
"Hey!" She snapped; from somewhere to her left, she heard Brendan pad over.
"Oh, it's you. Brandon, is it? Oh, no, wait, Brenna?" Drew asked as Brendan appeared by May's side. It was almost impossible to ignore the black-haired Trainer—he, at six solid feet (give or take an inch), towered quite splendidly over May's pitiful five feet three. May noticed again that Brendan and Drew were of equal height.
"It's Brendan." Brendan ground out. His face was pulled into a fierce grimace. "If I remember correctly, your name is Andy?"
"Please, call me Drew." The green-haired Coordinator corrected, flipping his hair again. May could not help but twitch her right eye at his idiosyncrasy, though she also admired the way Drew's gorgeous, silky green hair caught the light with the faintest ripple. She sort of wished her own hair would have that effect.
"No, thanks. I like Andy better." Brendan replied, in that same uncharacteristically annoying and irritable voice.
"Very well, Brenna."
"You know what? I don't think I'll call you Andy anymore." Brendan snapped heatedly. May was slightly taken aback; Brendan hardly displayed emotions of hatred, or at least in front of her. She braced herself for his next venom-laced words, "Your name is now. . ."—Brendan paused for dramatic effect—"Grass Ass."
Drew dropped his smug façade, revealing much indignity and looking highly affronted. However, he covered it up with a remarkably quickly flick of his chartreuse bangs. "What would you be, then?" A sudden, mischievous eye shone in Drew's crystalline celadon eyes. "Wait. . . I have the perfect idea. From now on, you shall be called 'Santa Claus'. Or 'Frosty'. Or 'Snowy'. It's interchangeable, see?"
May's mouth dropped in shock; Brendan widened his eyes in indignation—they now looked not dissimilar to two plates.
"EXCUSE ME?!" The black-haired Trainer demanded, ruby eyes flashing with rage May had never seen before. His milky-white complexion was rapidly purpling, though it was nothing compared to the state of May's face. "I'll. . . I'll. . ."
Whatever Brendan was threatening to do to Drew, however, was interrupted by a flick of the green-haired Coordinator's hair. "It makes sense," Drew continued with a snigger, "You are the only idiot I know of who conceals his hair so valiantly. Except for, of course, May over here."
The brown-haired Coordinator, whose mouth had still been hanging open in disbelief, snapped it shut immediately. "Hey!" She interjected huffily.
Drew's crystalline celadon gaze wandered over to meet May's. She realized with a jolt in the pit of her stomach just how clear his eyes were, but refused to voice her sentiment. Roselia sniffed. "Whatever, May. See you around, in tommorow's Contest. I'm off to do some real Contest practicing," Drew said, smirking. He reached into the right pocket of his purple vest and pulled out a rose, tossing it to May, who caught it with relevant ease.
She did not bother to ask what it was for.
Cherrygrove City—14:56, September 5: Wednesday
Brendan's Milotic, Mimi, flexed her elongated body, irritably flicking her glittering tail to the left to ward off the sweltering heat. Her long pink eyebrow-fins drooped depressingly to touch the back of her cream-furred neck, though her obsidian eyes were staring fixedly at the far but still visible coastline. She longed quite desperately to be able to dip in and out of the cold waves, reminiscing with the sea.
Her master's, "Mimi! 'Water Pulse' on Blaziken, now!" startled her out of her temporary reverie. Annoyed, she shot him a glance that said clearly, 'Damnit Brendan, I'm not a Feebas anymore.'
As a result, the Tender Pokemon did not comply immediately with Brendan's wishes. Instead, she rebelliously shot an 'Ice Beam' at May's Blaziken, slower than usual. The Flame Pokemon dodged the attack with graceful ease, though bore a look of apprehension at Milotic's obvious lack of interest in the make-shift Contest Battle.
"How come your Milotic's not attacking well, Brendan?" May asked, scratching her red bandana. The black-haired Trainer gave a shrug as an answer, clearly perplexed by Mimi's behavior. Hmph. Serves him right for waking me up so early in the morning, the Milotic thought self-righteously. "Well, if your Mimi won't attack, I guess Blaziken and I will have to! Blaziken, 'Blaze Kick'!"
The bird-like Pokemon chirped obediently and leapt into the air, allowing flames to envelope his right leg. He twirled around before aiming to slam his blazing leg into Milotic's side. However, Milotic readily deflected his attack with a well-aimed 'Water Pulse'. The Blaziken bounced off the pressurized water attack and stumbled onto his feet on the cement.
"Mimi, come on! Please listen to me!" Brendan hissed, sounding desperate but happy that they were gaining the upper hand in battle, and yet embarrassed that he played no part in their small victory. "Please! I'm begging you!"
The Milotic was not a cruel Pokemon—she remembered the many times Brendan had stood up for her during her year-long tenure as a Feebas, the many times Brendan had defended her when others had caustically remarked that she was a hideous beast, unworthy of living. Flicking the thought away as she had no desire to cry in front of May and her somewhat jumpy Blaziken, whom Mimi did not have a lot of fond memories for, she turned her serpentine head towards Brendan to signal that she was listening.
"All right, Mimi! Attack with another 'Water Pulse'!" Brendan declared happily, pointing his finger towards May's Blaziken, who lowered his wet red head, preparing to dodge should his Coordinator give the word to. Mimi 'whoooed' in compliance and, unhinging her graceful jaws, allowed a stream of white-blue water to tunnel through the air towards the Blaze Pokemon.
"Dodge now!" May cried shrilly. The Blaziken leapt aside, but not in time, owing to the fact that the battle had already progressed for twenty minutes, which was far past the Contest time limit (though nobody seemed to notice), and the fact that he had been weakened already by the Milotic's previous 'Water Pulse'.
The Blaze Pokemon was soaked through by the eerily powerful water attack and collapsed onto the floor, breathing heavily and trembling. Mimi felt a surge of sympathy towards him, despite her previous misgivings about the Blaziken, and more instinctively than not, let a thin layer of pink light cushion her entire body and then let the soothing energy travel through the air towards Blaziken, who stopped shuddering the moment the pink light touched his side.
May looked at the Milotic wonderingly, and as if searching for a rational explanation for Mimi's 'healing' behavior, whipped out her pink Pokedex and turned it towards the Tender Pokemon's direction.
"Milotic, the Tender Pokemon," The Pokedex beeped, "It is oftentimes considered to be the most beautiful Pokemon of all, and has been depicted in many paintings, statues, and other works of art. When this Pokemon's body glows a vivid pink, it releases a pulsing wave of energy that brings soothing calm to restless spirits."
"Oh, so that was what it was," May mused aloud, snapping her Pokedex shut and dipping her head gratefully towards Mimi's direction. Brendan pinked; his Milotic waved her tail to say that it was nothing. May's Blaziken turned a bright red when he found Mimi looking curiously at him (simply to check if he had been severely injured by the battle).
As May returned her Blaziken with the slightest of sighs, Mimi thought she saw Brendan's Gallade's, Ruru, Pokeball twitch unsettlingly.
Author's Notes:
Well! That's it for chapter four! The Contest is in the next chapter. :o
Brendan's Milotic really is named Mimi, according to the Pokemon Special Manga. All of his Pokemon are named after the ones he had in the Special Manga, or named in the same style at least.
Also, do you find the constant spelling out of the characters' full names annoying? I wanted to keep the habit with the gradual inclusion of more people/Pokemon. . . and Pokemon, of course. Lol. I'm also sorry if the constant POV changes annoy you, but I just couldn't find any better times to swap. . . efufu.
Oh, and do you think the new Contest rules are a little too complicated? I based them off of Diamond and Pearl's new Contest requirements, as you could probably already tell. I personally think they're kind of rigged, but I want your opinions on the matter first.
Do you think I'm making this story a little too fast-paced? I know it's a bit unrealistic how they can get from New Bark Town to Cherrygrove City in less than one chapter, but I don't want things to drag on and on forever like Natural Disturbances. . . Eck! Anyway, the Contest will be split into two chapters, since I didn't manage to get a lot of actual Contest practicing into the chapter. . . meh.
Myaah! I really need to start shifting the attention from Romance to ADVENTURE. Oh, and only PSYCHIC Pokemon and Legends are capable of speech in this story. Because that only makes logical sense. . . However, Psychic Pokemon such as Brendan's Gallade (and later on, possibly May's Espeon) are able to translate Pokespeech for their Trainers. (:
I'm sorry I haven't been able to incorporate any of your OCs into my story yet. . . –shudders as everyone shoots glares– However, they will be coming up after the Contest chapter. (: Oh, trust me, they will.
And about 'Grass Ass'—I'm sorry, I couldn't help it. . .
Damn, I write a lot of A/N stuff. . . lol.
Please review!
