"So this is Pewter City...?"

Derek nodded towards Damion, then gazed down from the hill they were standing on towards the gloomy city. It definitely showed its great respect for Rock Pokémon, since everything in sight was made of rocks. From the gate to the very merchandise that stood next to them, everything seemed to be made of stone. He knelt by one of the rocks and checked the price, then backed away at the sight of multiple zeroes. A rock should only have one zero and nothing else.

"It's a rock," he said plainly, staring at it.

"It's a rock," Damion agreed, turning his head to look at the stone. "Ho—is that really a price?"

Derek pulled out his wallet, letting out a sigh after checking the contents. He glared down at the rock, completely baffled at how this rock was worth more than his entire savings, before twirling on heel back towards the city. "Whatever. Let's go. We have a Gym Battle to win."

"Hey, think we'll see Samurai again?" Damion asked, as they walked down the road. Derek saw him glance back towards Viridian Forest. "I mean, he seemed all right."

He gave no answer, simply shrugging his shoulders. He was more concerned about time management than seeing that pesky kid again. One glance at the sky told him that the sun was at its peak in the sky, signaling noon. They had approximately eight hours to get last minute training in, rest up at the Pokémon Center, get a quick heal, and then get to the Gym before the busy time at the Pokémon Center began and all the rooms were taken.

Feeling something under his shoe, he glanced down, and noticed the stones coloring the dirt path gray and white. He picked one up casually, bouncing it in his hand—and then slipped over the others, falling straight forward like a complete idiot. An arm slid around his chest and grabbed his shoulder, catching him into a firm grip. He opened his mouth to thank Damion, and then realized that there was no way Damion would have been able to catch him in that way, since Derek had been walking behind him.

He looked up and nearly leapt out of his skin when he saw the face staring back at him. "B-B-Brock?" he questioned, straightening up and tearing himself out of the man's hold.

The man shook his head. "Not Brock—Flint. You looked interested in my wares, so I came to check ya out."

Derek studied the man's rough face, though all he could see was a tan underneath the bushy brown beard and red hat he was wearing. The hat even shadowed his eyes, which was rather creepy. Plus, the beard looked awfully and unrealistically pointy, like a bristly bush. Clearing his throat, he said nervously, "Y-you sell rocks...for a living?"

"I s'pose you could say that. Want to buy one?"

"I'd rather..." Derek began, though stopped himself. "I'd like to, but I really don't have the money for one."

"I could give it to you at a discount price," Flint offered, his voice gruff with what seemed to be a salesman tone. He turned his head towards Damion. "What about you, kid?"

"Sir, I'd really like one!" Damion exclaimed brightly, grinning. "But we're new Trainers, so we don't really have that kind of money..."

"Trainers? Bah!" The man began laughing, and as he did so, his beard barely seemed to move. Derek was beginning to doubt the realism of that beard, but he put the thought aside as the man's lips pulled into an amused smile. "Don't tell me you plan on taking on Brock, the Pewter City Gym Leader?"

"Yep!" The young boy grinned, green eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. "Is there a problem with that?"

"You two...how long have you been on your journey."

They glanced at each other. "Two weeks," Derek said simply.

"Can you cook food?"

"Berries," he countered.

"Can you make a fire?"

"I have a Charmander and Magnemite, both of which can do the job."

"Can you pitch a tent?"

Damion answered this one. "'Course! Though, it takes a half hour..."

"One more question. Can you battle?"

The most confident yet sly of smiles appeared on Damion's face. "Of course!"

Not wanting to be considered overconfident, Derek shrugged. "We could try," he supplied. After all, he didn't really think they could win against a Gym Leader in just two weeks of training, either.

"You, bright kid. What's your name?"

Derek nudged Damion, who blinked. "Me? Damion, from Pallet Town. I'm gonna be the best there is, and ain't no one gonna stop me!"

Flint nodded towards Derek. "And you?"

"Derek." He frowned, then added, "Also from Pallet Town."

"I like you. You can probably win." Flint jerked his head towards Damion. "But him? Watch out for him, Derek. His confidence is ill-matched with his skills. You look reliable; you can fight your battles and win like a man should. Him? He looks like a lonely Growlithe."

"Hey!" Damion exclaimed, straightening up indignantly.

Derek shrugged. You can't help but be spot-on, Flint. "I'll try. But he's...probably the better Trainer between us. He's a lot more than what meets the eye."

Flint's lips twitched as if he were holding back a smile. "Kid, the more you try, the better you get. Keep that attitude of yours, and you'll never get stronger. But don't get overconfident." He cast a meaningful look towards Damion, who scowled and looked away, as if embarrassed.

Derek nodded, averting his eyes and instead watching the ground. "Thank you for the advice." Even if I already know that... "Please excuse us."

He turned his back towards the other two, careful to watch his step as he trudged down towards the center of the city. Footsteps behind him indicated Damion following, and he heard the faint grumbles of "good bye" and "good luck."

"And Derek."

He turned, gazing at Flint curiously.

"The sooner you show your true self, the better it'll be for your future. Live up to your heritage and family."

Derek faked a smile, not understanding what he meant. "Same goes to you, Flint. The beard isn't as realistic as you seem to think."

And with that, he promptly continued walking and entered the true city.

-.-.-

First came the hunt for supplies. They had to completely restock their medicine supplies, as the amount of Antidotes and Potions they had bought had proved to be insufficient for the numerous Bug Pokémon in the Viridian Forest. Derek had never known just how much a Poison Sting hurt until he got one in his stomach; it had taken hours for the poison and pain to fade away, even after drinking the disgusting Antidote.

Second came training. In the end, though, nothing came out of the rushed effort other than a few scrapes and bruises on each end. Besides, it wasn't doing anything to help Derek get the "feel of battle," as Damion put it, nor was it helping Damion see the "weak points in the enemy."

Third came the healing at the Pokémon Center. Surprisingly, there weren't many people around, except one or two older-looking Trainers; it was probably due to it still being two months before the Gym circuit year officially started.

Fourth, they took the opportunity to officially sign-up for the Pokémon League, though it took a while to get their Trainer Cards and Pokédexes analyzed for authentication. Damion's constant exclamations on what he wanted to do on their journey didn't help, either.

And fifth...

"So...do we knock?"

They had walked past the path decorated with stones and through the gate of wood. It was made up of two straight and parallel beams of wood that were connected to each other by another shaft that grew into a triangle and stood behind them, welcoming all to the Gym. The building itself was nothing to be amazed by: a giant, roughly rectangular rock with "Pewter Gym" written in the top left corner, with wooden doors (made of the same material as the gate) in the center of the wall.

Though he still wasn't sure whether or not he wanted to battle, Derek said simply, "Maybe just push the doors?"

Damion swallowed loudly. "D-do I have to?"

"Do I look like I want to?" Derek snapped. When he received no answer from the shaken boy next to him, he sighed and said, "Fine, I'll do it." Bracing himself for the worst, he pushed against the wooden doors.

Light from outside poured into the Gym, yet all they could see were shadows. Their shadows showed up especially well, long and lanky. Nervously, they stepped in, noticing the stone walls. Along the sides were platforms jutting out of the wall several meters into the air, surrounded with railings. Derek could barely see, but he guessed that the balconies were for spectators—not that anyone would be able to get up there normally.

The stone floor echoed, causing their footsteps to reverberate through the room over and over. If not for the open doors, Derek guessed that they would have continued forever, but eventually the sound faded. Every breath he took caused a hundred whispers, every look he took sent down his spine a thousand chills, and every step he took only brought him ten thousand times the anxiety of battle.

He swallowed down his fear, and with a glance towards Damion shouted, "Brock! If you're there, we challenge you!"

The yell sounded back to him multiple times, making him flush with embarrassment and surprise. Still, it seemed to have an effect on Brock, who appeared suddenly as a spotlight shone on him. He sat on a rock that rested upon a raised platform with stairs leading down to the Gym's floor. Even more stones decorated the platform around Brock. His legs were crossed in a meditation-like position, and he turned towards them with closed eyes, almost as if he were in a trance.

"You seem awfully impatient," he said, his voice calm and warm. The light cast shadows across his face, darkening the tan of his skin, and making his spiky brown hair look black. He slowly stood up, causing the green vest over his orange-brown shirt to ruffle with the motion. "Do you plan on challenging me? Both of you?"

Unable to look him in the eye for some reason, Derek instead stared down at the Gym Leader's brown pants. "Something like that," he mumbled.

"Of course!" Damion exclaimed.

"Is this your first Gym Battle?" the man asked simply.

Both of the Trainers nodded.

"You should know that this is a battle legalized by the Pokémon League. There are special rules you have to abide by; this is no ordinary Trainer battle." He stared down at them, making Derek realize that Brock's eyes actually were open; they were just too small to notice. He would have found this amusing if he weren't so absolutely terrified. "Are you still willing to battle?"

"Of..."

"Of course!" Damion cut in, his voice loud and bright with eagerness.

Brock nodded slowly, almost gravely. "As Gym Leader, I must accept every challenge. I must say, then: Prepare yourselves."

As if on cue, the doors behind them shut, shutting out all light except for Brock's personal one. The sound of rattling steel turned Derek's attention to the walls, which apparently had open up. Out from them came a rocky field—the real Gym field. It was rushing towards them at an alarming rate, and without hesitation, Derek grabbed Damion's arm and began running for it. They barely managed to jump out of the way as the fake stone grounds collided and clanged, ending their motion abruptly. The two young Trainers skidded on the polished stone, nearly crashing into the walls and doors. Lights flickered on, casting the battleground into the light, and showing the two boys to each other. Damion smiled meekly at his own pathetic state, while Derek simple scowled.

Brock, stepping down from his pedestal, stood on the opposite side of the field, not even reacting to the light behind him shutting off. Derek, on the other hand, flinched with surprise. "Are you ready?"

Damion had taken off his backpack, gotten to his feet, dusted himself off, and rushed forward before Derek could so look up at Brock. Bursting with energy, the sparky kid called out, "I am! I definitely am, Mr. Brock!"

Brock pointed an enlarged Poké Ball towards him. "Then let me explain the rules. This will be a one-on-one single battle match. If you can defeat me, or prove that you are worthy of continuing as a Trainer, I will give you the Boulder Badge. After this battle, your friend—" He motioned towards Derek. "—will battle me next. Do you accept these terms?"

Derek could only see the back of Damion's figure, but he knew the boy was grinning. He heard a confident, "Of course!" and saw the boy reach for a Poké Ball.

"Then let the match begin!"

Not bothering to focus on the match, Derek groaned and stood up, rubbing the sore and battered parts of his body. He wasn't sure he could take much more punishment from the journey, and there wasn't any point if he didn't even have the courage to battle. He stumbled for the wall and leaned against it with relief, the cold stone soothing against the aching bruises.

He turned his gaze towards Damion's battle, not really paying attention. He watched as Swift blasted away Brock's Geodude with a quick Water Gun before the Rock Pokémon rushed forward with a Rollout. It was with surprise when he saw Damion cleverly use the Pokémon's own momentum against itself, sending the Geodude skidding out of the battlefield with Mud Sport that coated the field, removing any holds the Geodude might have found in the field when it was rock. He recognized the tactic; he had experienced it firsthand just a while ago, when he had battled against Damion with Flare. It was a bit different, and yet the exact same.

Something told him what he needed to do to beat Brock, but the thought disappeared in a moment. He blinked; it had only been for a split second, but it had been so clear to him. He saw an obvious flaw in the way Brock was battling, but he couldn't remember what it was. He swore under his breath, annoyed at how he had just lost his free victory.

He glanced up at the sound of Brock's shout. "The match is over. I've lost."

Derek blinked as he heard Damion's ecstatic shouts. It didn't make any sense, how Brock could have lost so easily. Even he was holding back because they were rookies, there was no way Brock would become a Gym Leader if he were so weak.

The two Trainers met in the middle of the stage. Derek watched as Brock placed something into Damion's hand, who raised it to the ceiling in an elated stance. Amused, Derek, too, stepped forward. His hand slipped into his pocket, his fingers clenching around the ring Matthew had given him.

"What is your name, rookie?"

"Damion." He grinned. "Thank you very much, Mr. Brock!"

The Gym Leader smiled for the first time since they had come in. An echoing sound made Derek turn around, and he noticed that the stands that he had thought were impossible to get up to were filled by children, around nine or ten of them.

"C'mon Brock, why are you going easy on them?" one of the girls asked. Derek realized a moment later that she was Brock's younger sister; the resemblance was remarkable.

"Just because you're the first Gym Leader doesn't mean you have to be easy against the rookies! You should show them what it really means to be a Trainer!" a boy shouted. He seemed to the oldest amongst them, and his face showed a confidence in himself and his brother—something that Derek used to have, yet had lost. He felt himself start to shake, first with self-pity, then with anger. It wasn't fair.

It just wasn't fair.

"I did no such thing. Damion deserves this Badge, as he won the battle fair and square. Now, Damion, help your friend over here."

"I can walk on my own," Derek snapped, half towards the Damion who had rushed over, half towards the man he detested, a hiss of rage escaping his throat. He walked past Damion without a word, their shoulders brushing softly. He stepped into the Trainer box that had been drawn on the stone floor with white paint, gazing down at the unscathed battlefield. The mud had already hardened, and would make no difference in the battle. "Brock, I challenge you to a Gym Battle."

Brock remained standing where he was, motioning calmly for Derek to join him in the center of the field. "Same rules as before. Name?"

"Derek." His jaw clenched, and he felt his eyes dart across the field on some sort of impulse as he walked forward onto the rocky field. He wanted to win, to destroy this man that his siblings looked up to. Older siblings never amounted to anything. All they did was disappoint their siblings. It would be better for the kids to learn that, when they saw their role model crushed into the ground by a novice.

Brock's expression changed ever so slightly: his lips pulled into a smile, and his eyebrows raised in amazement. "So you must be the third child of the four children of the Risque family.." His voice was quiet, respectful, as if he understood that Derek was hiding his identity. The boy was still shocked into silence. Nobody knew that the Risque family had four children, except for direct relatives or people Derek had met. "Michael had once bragged to the former Gym Leader, my father, that his younger brother would come and show us what a true Trainer was capable of. He seemed pretty happy about his newborn brother. You are that kid, Derek Aaron Risque, are you not?"

Derek felt as if his insides had just been doused with cold water. His blood ran ice cold, only his burning rage allowing him to move. He felt his right hand pulse with a feeling of disgust and rage, and he felt his eyes sting with it. If that was the truth, why had Michael given up on him now, then? "That's right. So what of it?"

"When your brother showed me the picture, you had black eyes." Brock frowned. "Maybe the lighting was odd. You do look a lot different from that picture, don't you?"

Feeling his hand clench involuntarily, he shoved it into his pocket. "That so," he forced out.

"Your brother really seemed to treasure that picture." Brock smiled, looking as if he were laughing inside. "I expect a good battle, Derek Risque." He held out a hand good-naturedly.

Resisting the urge to punch Brock in the face, he placed his hand in Brock's, struggling against his own muscles so as to not try and crush the man's hand. As soon as they let go, he leapt backwards, more nimbly than he realized he could. He turned around and stepped back into the Trainer box.

"Then let us begin," Brock said.

Without so much as thinking, he whipped out Soran's Poké Ball from his belt and hurled it towards the arena, hearing the satisfying crack of metal against rock. He caught it dexterously, hardly even having to glance at it. His attention was focused on the solidifying figures of his Pokémon and Brock's, and judging from the size of the latter's...

"That's right. This is what I'm talking about." A vicious smile-like expression pulled at his lips, and he felt his blood pulse at the upcoming challenge. He knew Brock wasn't holding back, somehow, and he knew that he could still win. Risque blood came with a price, but he needed it more than anything now. Pulling his sleeves back, he turned his gaze towards the giant rock snake before him. "I'll finish this battle in five minutes."

A/N - I never acknowledge reviews in my chapters' A/Ns (because I only have 1 ~ 4 reviewers at most [usually the former], so it's embarrassing to do), but I just wanna say thanks a ton to you guys: May&Dawn, Ocean-senpai, and Odile...[insert an honorific here]. Seriously.

I just realized something, but all of them are gals, actually.

OTL Do I seriously have no male readers? (Other than Branch, 'course.) That's just sad, Archie.

See ya later, Feraligatr!