I don't like excuses, so I won't give any. Those who have concerns regarding my absence may inquire for more information. I'm not well right now, so I struggled through this chapter. Moreover, I'm out of practice, so I hope that my writing is still somewhat sufficient. I can't make any promises at this point, but I want my updates to be more regular in the future.

Also, tell me if you're getting a bit tired of the emotional moments with Keith and Rick. After the tournament, there'll be several more characters to develop on, but I don't want to fix something that wasn't actually broken. However, it's certainly possible to be tired of the same exhaustive discussions.

As always, I appreciate constructive feedback. Considering how I'm out of practice, I'll certainly accept the advice.

Please alert me of any mistakes. The chapter I'm posting right now is actually a draft; I feel guilty about the long delay, but I won't be available to proofread until sometime tomorrow.


Chapter 8: The Dawn of Midday

Keith's POV

I wasn't that good at keeping track of time back then. It felt like I was practising the whole night, but it was probably only a few hours. The room was pitch-black; there weren't any windows connected to the outside. However, it wasn't that much of a problem for me; I guess Pokemon could actually see a bit in the dark.

I must've fallen on my face at least five hundred fucking times. At the beginning, I could barely manage to take a step without collapsing. The carpet didn't smell that bad, but that didn't mean that I wanted to rub my fucking nose against it.

I didn't want to stop. I kept going and I guess something clicked after a while. After a long while, I was able to take a couple of steps at a time, and then I could walk short distances. I barely fell at all, and soon I was able to walk around the entire room. That was when I decided to try running. How hard could it be?

As soon as I tried picking up a bit of speed, I drove my head into the fucking wall. I was fucking pissed that the room was so tiny, even in comparison to me. I decided to walk along the sides of the room to figure out how long each of the walls was, and then I tried again. By the end of the night I was running around the laps of the room, turning corners just before brushing against the wall.

I am fucking awesome!

I kept going for as long as I could… I think that I passed out from exhaustion. I woke up the next morning with Rick leaning over my body.

"Keith!" he yelled with a bit of worry, "Are you okay?"

I had forgotten that was my new name.

"I'm fine," I replied, but I knew that it wouldn't sound anything like it.

He scooped me up and fed me some more baby food. I think that I reacted squealed or something when Rick started to take the bottle away; I was still hungry. Rick quickly moved it back and I kept drinking until I was full. He put me down on his lap; he was wearing the same clothes as yesterday.

"Keith," he said with concern. I turned my attention up to his face; he seemed a bit distressed. "Have I not been feeding you enough? You had twice as much food as yesterday."

I didn't realise that I actually had that much, and I don't think that Rick was exaggerating either. I guess that last night's training worked the hell out of me.

I decided to just show him. I jumped out of his lap and started to run around the room in the same pattern as before. After one round, I looked up and saw that he was absolutely shocked.

We were going to fucking win!

Keith's POV

Rick and I left the room and walked out to the main deck, where the tournament was going to be held. The S.S. Anne had a proper arena, but this ship obviously didn't. UGH, BAD THOUGHTS!... Instead, the people running this ship marked an area out on the floor with specific boundaries and all that shit. Rick went up to the registration desk and confirmed my participation in the tournament. Apparently, there were only eight people participating; I'd only have to fight three battles to win. They also weren't going to be extremely tough opponents; only low level Pokemon could participate.

Rick was still carrying me out of protective habit, and also to help me conserve my energy before I waste it all. As the ocean breeze blew across the deck, a chill ran down my spine (and unfortunately through my tail); I then realised that I was actually extremely nervous.

I didn't really understand because it didn't make sense. My opponents were all going to be really weak, and I trained through the night just so that I could move around the battlefield without getting my fucking head torn off or something.

I guess that there were a few decent reasons things. It was going to be my first fight, and I never exactly expected to battle from this perspective throughout my journey. Also, I didn't want to disappoint Rick… I knew that he obviously wouldn't be angry at me if I lost. He'd probably be fucking devastated if I got hurt. However, there was a cash prize. I didn't know how much it was. Rick wouldn't tell me because fucking Pokemon don't fucking understand how money even works. Also, they can't fuckng read anything. The money we'd receive for winning would be like a lottery to us, some kind of miracle. I've never won a contest like this before, and I know for sure that Rick certainly hasn't.

There was also Bernard.

Ha…

Ha…

HAHAHAHAHA….

Oh, wow… I crack myself up…

Bernard the Retard.

Anyways, I'd probably have to battle that fucktard's Pokemon at some point. I wanted to claw at his neck and gouge into his throat and rip it apart and feel the blood of victory ooze onto the floor, but there were many problems with that. I didn't have claws. I didn't have teeth. I'm microscopic. As much as I wanted to kill him, his Pokemon are probably strong somehow, and they'll probably kill me instead…

I started shaking. I felt my skin tingle as my fur tensed up. Am I scared of danger?... Am I scared of dying again?...

I felt my face get wet with tears of frustration. I didn't understand it. I knew that I couldn't think like this. There was no way any Pokemon could fight properly while being scared of death. However, thoughts of Rick kept popping in my mind. If anything happened to me, if I died again, it would be the end of both of us. I didn't know which was worse: the thought of losing my second life, the thought of losing Rick again, or the thought of abandoning him.

It was arguably the pressure of the battle, but my anxieties were realistic… Leaving behind those concerns would be fucking ignorant.

WHY THE FUCK WAS I FUCKING REBORN!...

I started crying harder and harder. I was absolutely panicking… I thought that I had lost my mind. My eyes were shut, but the fucking Sun was so fucking bright that it was drilling into my fucking face. Rick noticed my tantrum, and I instantly noticed the absence of light intensity as he moved away from the crowd to some random shaded area.

"Keith," Rick called to me, "what's wrong? Please calm down."

I could sense the panic in his voice as well, but hearing my new name reminded me of the situation all over again, only making me react even more. His arms kept a firm grip on me, but I was flailing my legs around and swinging my fucking tail around like a fucking psychotic. I banged my head into his chest over and over, trying to make him let me go. I wanted to run away, I wanted to get away from him. Despite all that happened, I wanted to him to disappear.

I felt a whish and a thud as Rick rested his back against the wall and slid to the ground. He was leaning over my body, crying as well, letting his tears mingle with mine. We probably looked fucking pathetic again, but I honestly couldn't stop.

I thought that we were crying for hours.

"Excuse me?" It was a woman's voice. "I'm sorry if I'm intruding, but it seems like you're in a lot of pain right now."

I felt Rick stand up again, but tears were still flowing from my eyes. I wanted to take a look at the person, but my vision was totally blurry.

His breathing was still heavy. "Y-yeah, I'm sor-ry. I-I didn't want-t anyone t-to see me right now."

"Oh, I didn't mean to bug you or anything… I'd offer you a tissue, but I don't have -"

"No, no. P-Please don't w-worry about it."

"Is your Eevee alright?"

She definitely meant me… I just wanted to state the obvious.

"I-I don't know… I think my own problems are af-fecting him. My friend d-died a c-couple of days ago."

"…I'm so sorry."

There was a long period of silence.

"I didn't know your friend," began the woman, "so I probably shouldn't be saying this, but your Eevee seems young, so you should take every opportunity to make the most of your time together. Don't let the past hinder you. I know that it's a bit hard and obviously difficult, but if you're able to do it you'll both feel a lot better."

Rick was hugging me tighter.

"Thank you," he quietly replied.

"No problem. My Smeargle and I will be watching the tournament. Maybe we'll see each other around before the cruise ends."

I can't forget the past, I can't discard my own problems, but I need to move on. I'm going to win for both of us.

Keith's POV:

We were in the first match.

I was standing next to Rick on one side of the battlefield. On the other wide was a young boy, probably eleven or twelve years old, with a yellow t-shirt, blue shorts, and messy brown hair.

There were speakers set up around the boat's main deck. "On one side of the field," began the announcer, "is Richard Hemington from Vermillion City!

The wind was refreshingly intense today. (The Sun was getting a bit annoying though.)

I saw the announcer wave his arm towards the other end of the field. "On the other side, we have Timmy Johnson from Cerulean City!"

He tossed out a Pokeball. "Go, Little Einstein!"

What the fuck?...

A Ratata emerged from a burst of red light. It was roughly my size, and didn't look all that menacing, but its front teeth were pretty large… I thought that it would be painful to be bitten by them.

When watching Pokemon battles on TV or out on the roads, you usually hear the Pokemon say something as they emerge. All of the humans would've heard something like "Ratata!" However, unless my internal Pokemon-voice-translation-device was broken, it actually said "HERP DERP!"

"The rules are as follows. Each trainer may use one low-level Pokemon. The first to become unconscious is eliminated from the competition, while the winner moves onto the next round.

Those teeth suddenly started looking threatening…

"BEGIN!"

"FUCK, IT'S RUNNING AT ME!"

"DERPDERPDERPDERPDERPDERPDERP!"

I dodged to the left and got ready to counter.

I then realised something… Rick and I never discussed attacks.

Fuck it. I ran into the Ratata as hard as I could. That was probably Tackle.

The Ratata rolled across the ship deck, but got up again and charged towards me at an unbelievable speed.

"Dodge it!" Rick ordered as I was getting pummelled.

I tried to maintain my balanced and plant my feet, causing me to merely skid across the floor. The attack hurt a fair amount, but it wasn't anything that I couldn't deal with. However, just as I recovered, I was hit again. Fuck, it's using Quick Attack, and all I've got is a fucking Tackle!

"Counter with Tackle!" EASY FOR YOU TO SAY! The "Little Herp Derp" was fucking spamming its Quick Attack, so I couldn't get a single attack in!

"I know! Keith, use Sand Attack!"

"Einstein, keep using Quick Attack!"

"THERE'S NO FUCKING SAND ON A FUCKING SHIP!" I screamed as I was knocked to the ground again. I wasn't in any serious pain. If anything, I was getting fucking pissed. However, my legs were beginning to feel sore from so many hits.

I needed to think of some kind of strategy, but that wasn't an option. I didn't even have a fucking second to take a breath.

The problem: Eevees don't know any attacks, especially the baby ones.

I was becoming exhausted from this fight even though I barely got to do anything. My only move was Tackle, and it clearly wasn't going to work. If only I had Quick Attack…

I decided to try it. Just as my opponent was preparing to hit me again, I focussed all of my energy on pure speed, and I ran at the Ratata as fast as I could. Amazingly, it worked. The Ratata was finally knocked back, so we traded positions for a while. I somehow managed to learn Quick Attack during the battle, so I decided to use it.

"Derp!" it cried each time I hit it. "Derp! Derp! Derp!"

Beating up a such a derpy opponent was fucking fun.

"This is my revenge!" I screamed as I crushed him yet again, but this time, as it tried to get up, it collapsed to the ground.

"I DID IT!"

"Yes!" yelled Rick, clearly pleased that I won (without his help).

Keith's POV:

"Great job, Keith!" Richard was cuddling me, and I was equally excited. I was squirming about in his arms like the baby that I apparently was. The battle certainly wasn't what I expected it to be, and winning was absolutely wonderful.

Perhaps a future like this wouldn't be so bad after all…

Rick and I were waiting in a cabin set aside specifically to act as a waiting room for the competitors.

I then felt a tense shock from Rick's body.

"Oh…" he muttered under his breath. Someone entered the room. I spun around to see who it was, honestly hoping that it was the woman from before, but of course that wouldn't happen.

"Congratulations on your win," said Bernard.

"Thanks, I guess," Rick replied. NO, DON'T FUCKING THANK HIM!

"Perhaps we'll face each other in the finals, assuming that your conviction is sufficient." He wasn't trying to be threatening, but I still wanted to tear his head off.

"Wait," Rick said with some concern, "if you've just won your match, then does that mean –"

"No," interrupted Bernard, "I'm not your next opponent. I was in the third match, so we won't have our opportunity until at least the final match. Your next competitor's actually outside right now. Training."

Training?...

"Your estimations," began Bernard, "weren't all that incorrect. It could be said that a time interval proportional to one match has now passed, but your next opponent is certainly swift, while my battle ended in one attack."

My heart skipped a beat. …Fuck.

"Was that supposed to be a warning, or a threat?" Rick cautiously asked.

"Well, definitely not a threat," replied Bernard in that overly condescending voice of his, "but perhaps a warning, or a recommendation, or some advice." He sat on a chair across from us. He was wearing the same clothes as before, yet they seemed as pristine as ever.

"I have some additional advice. Yes, your Eevee won, -"

"His name's Keith," interrupted Rick.

Bernard grinned. "Why, congratulations yet again!" He clapped a couple of times, but I couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic. "As I was saying, Keith did indeed win, but you provided barely any orders. In fact, your directions probably caused more harm than good."

Rick flinched.

"It's important to guide a Pokemon in combat, especially a young one. Otherwise, you may lose control in the future. Don't rely on your Pokemon's own skill and potential. Also, I happened to notice that Keith simply learned Quick Attack during the battle."

"So?..."

"Technically, at your Pokemon's level, it's not possible. If this was really the case, you should actually be disqualified for a level-limit violation. I believe that I mentioned Keith's breeding in our rendezvous last night. Bred Pokemon tend to know hereditary moves from birth. Of course, Quick Attack would be a certainly helpful example."

He paused, and then stood up again and bowed.

"Early mistakes hinder future progress. I hope to see you again."