Chapter 4

Weavile stood against the Veilstone Game Corner's counter with its arms folded, vigilantly watching the people playing the slot machines. It had its eye on one player in particular - a man with short, dark hair and a professional-looking brown overcoat. The slot machine he was playing suddenly sounded the 'game over' chime and he leant back, letting out a sigh.

"Once again, my streak is broken," Looker summarised, getting up and stretching, for he had been seated for just a bit too long. As he started towards the exit, Weavile made its move, dashing forward swiftly and quietly, reaching into the International Police agent's coat pocket and skilfully pulling out a small pile of coins without the man's notice, holding them triumphantly in its claws.

"Weavile," it muttered with smug satisfaction, taking a seat in front of the very machine Looker had just been playing and inserting a single coin. The Sharp Claw Pokémon reached up and pulled the lever and the slots started spinning. It smirked wickedly.

No doubt about it - today was the day it would finally walk out of here with a brand spanking new Silk Scarf worn stylishly around its neck. Weavile could already picture it - the smooth, sublime white fabric draped over its already smooth and sublime crimson neck frills, the garment billowing gently in the breeze in a way that made the Dark/Ice type look awesome and heroic, complimenting its murky grey fur.

Another coin. Another spin. Another coin. Another spin. So it went for a while, Weavile slowly but surely starting to grow impatient, its crimson crest bristling a little as its clawed appendage grasped the lever with forced calm, pulling it down gently rather than succumbing to the temptation to rip the thing clean off the machine and use it to smash the spinning slots until they tilted and coins came raining out of the bottom. No, gambling was a… delicate practice that required steady nerves - something the Dark/Ice type's Trainer certainly didn't have, that was for sure.

Oh, how Weavile longed for the days when its master wasn't afraid to take risks, to be adventurous, to be…

Well, to be Lucas.

The man in the Team Galactic uniform who acted as the Sharp Claw Pokémon's Trainer and caregiver was not Lucas, as far as Weavile was concerned. He may have had the still recognisable face and voice of a now adult Lucas, but he was an entirely different person in terms of how he dressed, how he acted and how he emoted. He wasn't the Lucas Weavile knew. He wasn't the Lucas anybody knew. It was no secret that people tended to change with time, but much like his uninspired haircut, Lucas had let himself be reshaped by his past mistakes and bad experiences into something that was just not Lucas.

Weavile sighed heavily, lowering its arm instead of pulling the lever to use its last coin. It got up, deciding that someone else could have the final spin, deciding that a Silk Scarf wasn't all it was cracked up to be. The Pokémon turned to leave, immediately bumping into someone. It muttered a half-hearted apology in the Pokémon tongue as it looked up to see the face of the person it had collided with and stopped dead, recognising the uniform, recognising those eyes.

Those sad eyes that had once burned so bright with passion, ambition, courage and spirit.

Those eyes that were dull and grey for reasons that had nothing to do with their colour.

"Thought I'd find you here," Lucas said knowingly, a little disheartened as his Pokémon averted its gaze, refusing to stare at those sad eyes any longer than it had to. "No winnings?" he guessed, misinterpreting the Dark/Ice type's reasons for being so reserved. Weavile shook its head, honestly not caring about the coins it had stolen and spent. "Well, maybe next time, buddy. Come on, let's head home."

Home. That was an interesting way of putting it. The last time Weavile had checked, Lucas' home was in Twinleaf Town, where his mother, Johanna, lived. A mother that the boy hadn't seen for some time now. Was he even thinking about her? Weavile didn't know. All it knew for sure was that the young man's current living arrangements didn't truly feel like home.

"Hah! Huh! Yah!"

Maylene thrust her palm against the punching bag that hung before her, emulating the motion her Lucario made when it used Force Palm. One jab. Another. A third with more force behind it than the first two. A combo of powerful jabs worthy of the Aura Pokémon itself.

The Gym Leader stood back to admire her handiwork, noting that the punching bag looked a lot more battered than it had when she'd first brought it out of storage three days ago. She was getting stronger, going through pieces of sporting equipment faster with time and repeated practice. There had been a time when Maylene would smirk with satisfaction at such a notion, her naivety turning her moment of success into overconfidence, but she was wiser as well as stronger these days, and reserved a neutral, almost indifferent expression for the fruits of her ever-ongoing physical labour.

Her pink hair shorter than it had once been, cut into an arguably lesbian look, and with band-aids decorating her cheeks as well as her nose, Maylene certainly looked tougher than she had a few short years ago. Her muscles were clearly more developed, though without looking bulky. Her overall physique was far from 'ripped', but there was no denying that she had become considerably more athletic. She was definitely taller if nothing else. Her tried and true martial arts tank top of blue and black and her sporty white pants bore many visible stitches where the Gym Leader had patched up rips and tears over the years. She no longer wore the blue and red fingerless gloves she had once favoured so much, her strong fists now bare to match her powerful feet.

Maylene had grown in both body and mind, and while the former was still overshooting the latter to a degree, there was no doubt that she had rightfully inherited the Veilstone Gym. She was most definitely worthy of her status as an all-but unquestioned expert in the fields of martial arts and Fighting type Pokémon.

Maylene turned away from the punching bag, snatching up the nearby bottle of water and downing half of its contents in one gulp, one of her pink eyes focused on the analogue clock on the wall, noting the time. She didn't even need Lucario, who stood nearby, to let out a soft growl in order for her to know what was coming.

"You always sense his aura before I see him, but his timing is always on the nose regardless," the Gym Leader mused to her Pokémon. No sooner had she spoken when the double doors of the Gym slid open and Lucas stepped in, Weavile at his heels. Maylene neither said nor did anything to greet him, just turning back to the punching bag and giving it one final thrusting jab, sending it flying off its hook and crashing to the floor nearby.

"Whoa," Lucas murmured cautiously. He had seen Maylene really sock it to one of those punching bags before, but there seemed to be an extra touch of aggressiveness behind her strikes tonight. He hesitated before approaching the Gym Leader, noticing how her Lucario leant casually against the wall nearby, its arms folded over the yellow fur just under its metallic chest spike as it watched Lucas' every move with vigilant and piercing red eyes. The bipedal jackal-like beast's blue fur, which lined the majority of its outer body, faintly shimmered with what looked like blue fire.

Its aura.

Lucas stepped up to Maylene, who still had her back to him, and opened his mouth to say something, but she cut him off before he could utter a single word.

"The usual spot. Five minutes. Get changed," she said simply without looking at him.

"Maylene, please, it's been a weird day for me and-" Lucas started.

"Man up!" Maylene suddenly snapped, making the boy flinch as she whipped her head around to glare at him. She then sighed. "Four minutes and thirty seconds," she said more calmly. "Loser makes dinner, same as always."

Lucas filed out of the Gym's training area without further argument while Weavile left his side to go and socialise with Maylene's Lucario. The boy soon returned, no longer clad in his Team Galactic uniform, but rather a martial arts uniform identical to Maylene's, albeit a little smaller and skinnier. He stepped up into the small boxing ring that Maylene kept set up on one side of the Gym, feeling apprehensive as he always did before his evening bout with the Gym Leader. They fought because it was one of Maylene's rules.

And if Lucas didn't follow the house rules set by his hostess, she reserved the right to kick him out, perhaps literally.

Maylene somersaulted over the velvet ropes that lined the boxing ring and stood crouching before Lucas, her head down. "Let's see what you've learned since last time," she said without looking up. Lucas swallowed, knowing what was coming. He did his best to ready himself.

Maylene very suddenly lifted her head, her eyes locked with Lucas' own for all of half a second, and then Lucas was tackled from below, his legs going out from under him as the expert martial artist completely bowled him over. He didn't even try to resist as Maylene kept him pinned down, slapping her palm against the floor rhythmically, acting as the referee as well as the boy's opponent.

"One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. You're out," she concluded, not sounding the least bit satisfied with this outcome as she released him and stood up. "You're not trying," she told him.

"What gave it away?" Lucas asked dully, yet to move from his spot on the floor.

"Ugh! What didn't give it away?!" Maylene exclaimed, sounding like her younger, brattier self for just a moment. She then exhaled deeply, refusing to let old habits get the better of her. "I've taught you better than this, Lucas," she said more calmly. "Now come on, get up. Let's do this properly. Best three out of five."

Lucas bit back a weary sigh and got to his feet, developing a very half-hearted fighting stance. From over where the respective Trainers' Pokémon stood, Weavile gently tugged on Lucario's ankle to get the Aura Pokémon's attention.

"Weavile. Wea, Wea," the Dark/Ice type said quietly, earning a subtle but knowing smirk from the Fighting/Steel type. Weavile folded its arms and leant against the wall, mimicking the taller Pokémon's stance as the two watched their respective masters continue their martial arts practice.

"Remember to read your opponents, Lucas," Maylene was saying. "You can tell a lot about them from how they stand, how they present themselves."

"Hmm. Sounds like something Commander Saturn would say," Lucas mused thoughtfully, speaking more to himself than Maylene.

"You must be ready to act and react in either order, lest you find yourself on the receiving end of a beatdown."

With a sudden yell, Maylene was upon Lucas again, and while he actually made the effort this time to get out of the way of her attack on his lower body, she surprised him by grabbing his arm as she slid by and tugging it sharply, causing the boy to spin around and fall backwards onto a crouched Maylene's shoulder. The Gym Leader then proceeded to fling the boy right over her shoulder like a burlap sack, slinging him somewhat painfully onto the little arena's floor, causing him to grunt in pained protest. He sat up rubbing the back of his head, glaring at his mentor.

"Lucas, do you know why I insist on trying to teach you these things despite you acting like a lost cause?"

"Not as such," Lucas responded with disinterest as Maylene reached down and pulled him to his feet… only for her to immediately fling him over her other shoulder as soon as he was upright. "Ow! Easy!" he complained.

"It's because you're not a lost cause, no matter how much you might think you are," Maylene declared, folding her arms as she stared down at him. "Stand up."

"If I do, you'll just slam me into the floor again."

"Wrong!" Maylene cried before suddenly lashing out, grabbing Lucas' arm and yanking him none-too-gently to his feet. "I'm gonna twirl you around, elbow you in the gut, Karate Chop you in the shoulder and then flip you over my shoulder and slam you into the floor," she said, narrating her actions as she performed them in sequence.

"Very funny," Lucas said, not sounding the least bit amused. "You want me to re-evaluate my self-worth, huh? It's kind of hard to do that when I'm getting tossed around like a rag doll!"

"Then stop being a rag doll and start being Lucas!" Maylene told him, hands on her hips as she turned to face him. "Now, get up and do exactly what I just did, only to me!"

"You're kidding, right? I'll barely have time to blink before you Throat Chop me or something and I go straight down!"

"Then don't blink."

Seething, Lucas got up slowly, careful not to make any sudden moves prematurely. If Maylene could 'read' his moves, he'd at least try, perhaps in vain, to start her off with a few blank pages. He brought his hands together before him, pretending to give a respectful bow to acknowledge his opponent while secretly planning to lash out suddenly as she previously had.

"No Feinting. Just follow through," Maylene told him. Gritting his teeth at how his act had immediately been seen through by the more experienced martial artist, Lucas reached out and took hold of Maylene's arm, careful not to hesitate lest she chastise him for doing so, and twirled her around, elbowed her in the stomach, landed a smart chopping motion on her shoulder and, with a grunt of effort, cast the young woman over his shoulder, albeit with nowhere near as much grace or fluidity, requiring both hands to lift her whereas Maylene had used only one.

"How was that?" he demanded breathlessly, not looking over his shoulder.

"Better," Maylene told him, getting to her feet as though nothing had happened. "Your posture was improper and your technique was - and is - sloppy, but you get the job done, and that's something."

"You wanna call it a draw?" Lucas asked, offering a small but cheeky grin as he turned to face her.

"Don't flatter yourself," Maylene said as she grabbed him and cast him over her shoulder yet again, still yet to even break a sweat.

"Why not? I thought it was good for my self-esteem."

"Your self-esteem? Maybe. Your ego? Maybe not," Maylene said as she started to walk away, casually stepping over the boxing ring's velvet ropes and stopping for a moment. "We're having gourmet rice balls for dinner. Ingredients and cookbook are in the usual places," she stated without turning around.

Lucas let out a low whistle as he watched Maylene leave the room. "I think I made an impression," he decided with a faint air of cockiness, the likes of which he had not shown since his days as a dedicated Pokémon Trainer.

"Weavile! Wea, Weavile!" Weavile called from its spot in the corner, giving its master a thumbs up with one of its claws, just happy to see Lucas starting to enjoy himself for a change. Lucas smiled back, though his eyes still weren't quite cleared of that inner sadness…