It's on the national news: Sacred Artifact Finds New Home in Sinnoh Museum. The Azure Flute, a Shin'ai ritual object carved out of bright blue stone said to be significant to Arceus, is the most important archaeological discovery of recent years. Who else but Haruba Jones could have discovered it buried in the ruins of an ancient temple hidden in the Holon Mountains?
Jones cracks jokes during his interview, playing it off like it's not that big a deal, like he does this sort of stuff all the time. He gives the credit to an unnamed partner, whom he claims figured out the flute's location based on a series of clues. He wears a beat-up hat and doesn't appear to have shaved for his first television appearance in years. He has fully charmed the lady reporter.
Aden glares at the television, at Jones's smug face and the interviewer's flirtatious banter. Everyone at the Hotel Verity's communal breakfast is watching, generally with the mildest of interest over their morning coffee. That's a flute? Huh, he hears someone remark.
"So what's next for you?" the reporter asks, leaning a little closer to Jones. "Surely you won't disappear from the public eye again after this."
"Don't plan to," he answers with a grin. "I'll be here and there throughout Sinnoh. Got some business to take care of. Personal stuff." The look he gives her suggests he's going to invite her for some personal stuff once the cameras are off.
Aden scrapes back his chair and leaves his breakfast unfinished. Now, of all times. Now he shows up in Sinnoh. Just as Aden is about to begin his journey. If he runs into that asshole during his travels… he doesn't know what he'll do.
He storms out to take a walk around the lake, trying to calm down. Everything will be fine, he repeats to himself, as he was instructed. Sinnoh is a vast and mostly rural region. The chances of meeting Haruba Jones in person are slim. Besides, Aden is on a quest for Sinnoh's gym badges. He shouldn't waste his time and energy on a manhunt. Shouldn't.
Lake Verity is large, still, and soothing. Aden takes a deep breath, distinguishing scents of pine and spring flowers. The air is filled with birdsong. A new day, new season, new region. Everything will be fine. He thinks of his new pokemon, too — a replacement partner — and how he might enjoy a swim in the lake so long as he, too, keeps his cool.
The red gyarados interrupts the morning calm with splashing and roaring, making flocks of starly fly off with a startled din. Aden keeps a watchful eye on him. He does seem to be enjoying himself, so that's a good sign. The temperamental pokemon and would-be trainer haven't really bonded yet. Likely Gyarados resents being confined to a ball now; Aden resents everything he went through to subdue the beast. Now they're stuck with one another. The first rule of pokemon rangers is to befriend, and to keep at it until trust is gained — Aden will adhere to the code, even if he is no longer a ranger.
"We'll still have to be friends if we want to get those gym badges," he says. "You hear me, Red?"
The gyarados is not paying attention. Aden's not sure if his pokemon likes the nickname. He thinks it's kind of corny himself, but isn't sure what else to call him. Crankyfins? The Bane of Fall City? Destroyer of Backstabbing Ranger Leaders? If only that were true.
Aden closes his eyes, trying to wipe the recent past from his thoughts with each measured breath. That incident was weeks ago. Everything will be fine.
But gods help him if he crosses paths with Haruba Jones, his sworn enemy. Meditation forgotten, his heart starts racing. Simultaneously, as if mirroring his emotions, the wind picks up. It's not that unusual for mid-April, but Aden cracks open one eye anyway. A gust is spiraling around the gyarados's body, carrying leaves, pine cones, and other natural debris. Of course, lake water starts weaving into the twister next. Gyarados roars with what he's created.
The tiniest sound from behind gets Aden's attention. Two kids hover at the edge of the woods. One holds up a camera, having snapped a photo of the rarely-colored gyarados in the midst of using his fearsome draconic powers. If they are aware of the danger, they're too distracted by gawping at the colossal pokemon.
"Stop!" Aden yells at his gyarados, waving his arms. "Stop it right now! Not here, dammit!"
The red pokemon glances curiously at his trainer. The twister slows, water splashing in a ring around his body. Aden checks for the children, who remain in place, awestruck. "Get out of here!" he barks. They spring to life and scurry away.
Frustrated, he runs his hand through his hair. This is going to be one hell of a journey, and it's only his first day. He hasn't even gotten his trainer's license.
As she gets off the bus, Pikki does her best not to marvel at Jubilife's huge, flashy downtown. It's sleek and bustling, the likes of which she has never known. She forces herself to focus on finding the pokemon center above all else. Then she can go sightseeing here and in just about every city throughout Sinnoh — she's about to become a licensed pokemon trainer.
And it's all thanks to the generous tip from Mr. Riley Torres. Pikki thinks of his note, which is tucked away in a pocket in her backpack. Miss Pirika — here is a little something that might help along your journey. I apologize for leaving in a rush, but I'm certain we'll meet again soon. I'm eager to see that dishwashing water gun for myself.
Even though she knows it by heart, she kept it. Riley's handwriting is so nice to look at, suitably tidy and angular. He might be too old for her (though she's not really sure exactly how old he is), but she likes him anyway; she can't wait to meet up with him and show off her pokemon. She can't wait to catch pokemon for the purpose of training to win battles. She's already had some practice catching a bidoof and baltoy, spending the past month training them to replace her and Maren at Atuy Kotan. Her mother is worried about this gamble. But Pikki is confident she'll succeed one way or another, earning enough to keep the family restaurant afloat for another year. After all, she trained those two wild pokemon in a matter of weeks.
The center is packed. It's a whirlwind tour through various rooms for getting information entered in the system, having a profile photo taken, being issued a pokedex, and watching a short video about the rules of the Sinnoh League Challenge and annual Battle Tournament. The nature of gym battles is briefly touched on, as are concepts of balanced team building, setting personal goals, and forming friendly rivalries to keep motivation strong.
Rivals, Pikki thinks with a nod, eyes glued to the screen. I want to make a good friend who will be my rival.
The brand new trainers file out of the center, chattering excitedly to one another. Pikki scrolls through various screens on her pokedex in order to get the hang of using it. And she wants to get a look at her license, the thing for which she's waited so long. It's digitally stored in the handheld computer, and will appear as a holographic interface in mid-air for ease of view. Pikki can hardly believe it — just like the movies.
She's so enthralled with her new technology that she slams into someone's side. As a short person, she's susceptible to being jostled in a throng. Her victim swears out loud. "Dammit! Does anyone watch where they're going?"
"I'm sorry!" Pikki cries. "It's too crowded!" She notices he has his pokedex out as well, looking at his own hologram license. Perhaps he needs to watch out as well. She's about to close and pocket her device when she realizes the license it's displaying is not her own. "Um…"
"Huh. Looks like we traded information. Wonder what that's for." At least now he sounds intrigued rather than annoyed.
Pikki reads his identification. "Aden Rohan Lawley… from Pueltown, Almia? Neat." She smiles up at him. According to his birthdate, he's a little over a year older than she, which is a relief when most of these new trainers are all of eleven. If he didn't wear such a sour face, he might be attractive: dark hair, darker eyes, a broken-in brown leather jacket that makes him look like a well-traveled adventurer.
"Hmm." He pushes different buttons until the projected image vanishes. "Ah, okay." Snapping his 'dex shut, he turns on his heel.
"Hey, wait!" Pikki calls out, trotting after him. "So, um, you think we older trainers ought to stick together?"
"Older?" He pauses to skeptically size her up and down.
"I'm sixteen!" She huffs. "I thought you read my license."
He smirks faintly. "My bad. Look, I gotta get out of here. I don't need any of this fancy stuff." His eyes fall to the booths that have been set up around the center, pitching name-brand shoes and athletic wear, sports drinks, pokeballs with special properties. Eager eleven-year-olds swarm the displays. "I just want to get moving to the first gym."
"Are you ready for it? They say gym leaders are tough, so you've got to train as much as you can."
"They say that for the video so it sounds good. But I heard this first guy is new, and a total pushover. One water gun, and you're out the door with a badge in hand." He rolls his eyes. "Something tells me that beating the Sinnoh League will be a piece of cake, which is fine by me."
Pikki sighs. "I'm trying to ask you for a battle, Aden. Like those guys." She points at various kids who have paired off to compare starting pokemon.
"You want to battle me?"
"Well, yeah. I kinda thought… since we're older, and have each other's information anyway…" she suggests shyly, "we could be rivals?"
Aden looks away, sticks his hands in his jacket pockets, blows a strand of hair away from his face. "Look, I'm not in this for rivals and buddies. I'm not even in it for the tournament. I'm just gonna get my badges and go back home. Besides, I don't think you're quite on my level."
The more he resists, the more Pikki wants to win him over. That was part of her special waitress training, after all. "Well, appearances can be deceiving. Not only am I sixteen, but I'm a pretty good trainer. A water trainer, even. I'd sure like it if you could evaluate my star pokemon, see if she's ready for that first gym. Since you sound so experienced."
He keeps staring off in the distance for a moment more. "Alright," he concedes. "But let's move away from this crowd."
There's a park near the center, where some of the new trainers have migrated. Other Jubilife citizens are there enjoying the mild spring afternoon. Aden moves to stand a few yards away. "I hope you're ready!" Pikki calls to him, holding out a great ball. "Come on, Maren!"
Her marill materializes from the ball's bright beam. Maren squeaks and hops in place, eager to be in a new town, learning new skills. Pikki is proud of her already. With her already-precise water gun, she's bound to have an advantage over brand new trainers and their brand new starters.
Aden doesn't say anything, or react much at all. He almost seems hesitant. For a second Pikki wonders if he's got a fire-type that will be instantly doused by Maren's jetstream. Just as she's thinking she'll have to go easy on him, he releases a serpentine pokemon that towers above the trim park trees. Red as blood, mouth wide open bearing fearsome fangs as he lets out a limb-shaking roar.
"O-oh," Pikki whispers, trembling almost as much as her marill.
They've attracted an audience, mostly on account of the rare red gyarados. This is no time for Pikki to back down. She insisted, after all. "Okay, Maren. We can do this. Defense curl!"
"Water pulse," Aden orders simply. Maren curls her already-round body into a rounder, tight ball, holding her ground as she's sprayed with a huge blast of water courtesy of the gyarados's gaping maw. Her ears twitch and she seems dazed, but is otherwise still standing.
"Good job!" Pikki cheers. "Now let's put your specialty to good use! Water gun!"
"Dragon rage," says Aden indifferently. Maren's steady stream is met with a powerful indigo blast reminiscent of flames. It breaks up the water gun and hits her, sending her flying backwards. She smacks into the back of a bench, lands face-first on the ground, and lays still.
Aden's apathy is quickly replaced by utter shock. "Oh shit," he mumbles.
"Maren!" shrieks her trainer, rushing to her aid. Pikki scoops up the marill in her arms, who lays still. Her eyes are closed tight and she's breathing hard.
Aden pays no attention to the murmurs of the crowd as he recalls his gyarados. He does, however, come up to Pikki. "Your marill okay?" he asks.
"I'm not sure," she answers in a wavering voice. Now that she realizes he was just humoring her battle request, she feels like a fool. She cannot rival this young man, and by the time she gets to his level, he will have surpassed himself twice over. Worst of all, it's Maren who paid the price for Pikki's ego.
"I'm really sorry. I didn't mean for her to hit that bench so hard." He sounds honestly sympathetic, even crouching beside her. "Come on, the center's right over there. I'll take you, and they'll get her patched up."
She follows him in silence, holding onto her marill. Somehow, it seems better this way, rather than send her to the confines of her ball. After handing Maren over to a pokemon center nurse, she sits in the waiting room. Restlessly, Aden stands nearby. He looks out the window, watches TV for a minute, paces back and forth.
"You don't have to stay," Pikki tells him. "I'm sure she'll be fine… physically." She's more worried about how Maren will handle battling in the future. She's never been involved in more than the occasional easy match between tame pokemon from restaurant guests. Getting annihilated by a terrifying gyarados in her first real battle will surely damage her pride.
"You're not gonna… demand payback?" Aden stops pacing, his back to her.
"Huh? You said you didn't mean it. You've stayed this long, I know you're sorry."
He sniffs casually. Maybe he's the strong, silent type, Pikki figures, and doesn't want to admit his feelings. "If anything, we're going to train harder so we can battle you again later," she continues, making her voice more cheerful.
"You should forget about me. I'll only cause you trouble."
"What? No!" She leaps out of her chair. "You're my rival now, Aden. I have to beat you one day!"
"I told you, I'm not here for fun and games. Go find yourself another rival." He heads for the door.
Pikki grabs for his arm, gripping the leather sleeve. He turns to her at last; there's conflict scrawled all over his face, a storm in his eyes that might break if she holds on. Respectfully, she steps away.
"You are a good water trainer," he says, voice low. "You'll be fine against that first gym leader." And with that, he departs.
She stands there for a moment, wondering what happened to Aden to make him act so standoffish when it seems, deep down, he's a caring person. As soon as a nurse appears to tell her Maren is fine and she can retrieve her, Pikki races to her marill, putting off thoughts of her would-be rival until later.