The Johto Odyssey Chapter 10: Transitions & Reunion?, a pokémon fanfic

The Johto Odyssey
by Galbinus

Dedication:Duel Soul! Your review was just so heartening and supportive, not to mention LONG!
Chapter Rating: K -- T for light swearing and slight 'inappropriate' themes (depends on how you look at it)
OC's in Use: Arc Knight's Arthur Knight

Goodness, I've just realized that our heroes have only been travelling together for a week. . . D8 Hopefully I'll be able to pick up the pace a little, and detail more than just a day with each new update. -headdesk- Please bear with me.

This is more of a plot background-building chapter, by the way. Hope you guys don't mind too much. Also, some old beloved characters from the first two chapters resurface in this fic. (:

Anyway, enough chit-chat. On with the story!

Chapter Ten: Transitions & Reunion?

Violet City—06:40, September 8: Monday

Sparse chartreuse sunlight filtered through the thick speckled canopy, shading scarce parts of the leaf-blanketed floor a luminescent green. Magnificent deciduous trees lined the forest, bunched so closely together that it blocked out most of the light; and the woodland appeared to be shrouded in a perpetual light.

The eerie callings of nocturnal bird Pokémon, as they huddled up in their nests for their twelve-hour sleep through day, echoed voraciously through the forest—mothers calling for their young to return from their nightly wanderings. The terrestrial Pokémon blinked and rose to consciousness, beginning their morning activities: collecting food for the imminent winter, grooming their glossy coats, or tasting the air for prey.

A lone, humanoid figure strode purposefully through the sylvan scene; each movement fastidious as the boy picked his route through the wild growth and boulders. Though his actions were sure, confident, brimming with certainty, Brendan Ruby Birch was very much puzzled as to why his body was moving itself in that way. Twice, he attempted to halt his movements, only to find out that he had no control over his legs whatsoever; oddly enough, the entire thing seemed illogically natural, and so Brendan let his feet carry himself to whatever it was that was his destination.

The road suddenly took a steep upturn; the forest became hilly. To his left, Brendan vaguely noticed a meandering stream and registered the genial gurgling of water over pebbles. His legs pressed onwards; and though his calves burned through the strenuous exercise—(how Brendan was glad of his routinely sparring sessions with Ruru!; else he did not know if he would still be conscious)—his feet gave no intention of stopping.

At last, Brendan's legs slowed. Turning himself back into his surroundings, Brendan noticed that the river had sprawled into a vast, circular lake. Sunlight reflected off the hoary, rippling surface; glittering golden dust flaked off the miniscule waves and evaporated into thin air. Further ahead of the lake, Brendan could see that the trees gave way to an ovular clearing. There appeared to be some sort of shrine erected in the center, though Brendan's eyes, usually so acute, could not see clearly.

Something exploded out of the lake water; startled, Brendan turned to look back at the water; there appeared to be a—

May gave a raucous snore and turned over in her sleep.

Brendan woke with a start, breathing heavily. Lifting his gloveless right hand to his forehead, Brendan wiped off a rivulet of sweat and noticed that the air around himself was pervaded with the familiar stink of perspiration. Disgusted with himself and a bit alarmed with May's nocturnal habits, Brendan blinked, slightly dazzled, and threw off his Violet City Pokémon Center blanket.

Careful to not hit his head against the bunk bed (bottom of which he slept in and top of which Max was snoozing peacefully), ever wary of his considerable height, Brendan attempted to yawn silently, failed, and caused May to snore again.

Despite her rather unfeminine acts, Brendan still found her, slumbering sweetly and wearing an expression of pure bliss, extremely adorable. He found himself leaning startlingly close to her face, and shook himself out of his amorous reverie.

As he noiselessly exited the room, still garbed in his pajamas yet clutching his new change of clothes and a toothbrush, Brendan pondered his dream. It had felt incredibly real when he was still sleeping; but then again, Brendan chastised himself, so do all dreams. Still, he could not completely ignore the perturbing thought. Parts of his dream had faded away with the action of waking up—he had forgotten what it was that he saw at the very end—but he could remember the general idea. Frowning slightly, Brendan wondered why it was that he could not control his feet. Brushing aside the thought, Brendan turned on the faucet and ran his hands under the sheet of cold water.

Violet City—06:58, September 8: Monday

The silvery sheen of moonlight faded away as the night sky gave way to lavender dawn.

Silver Smith idly rubbed his bare hands against each other for warmth. Johto's wintry months always came earlier than the other three regions' did, a fact that the teenager thought a bit troublesome at times. Though it was not well into September, the crisp, icy air already embodied most of the traits that made autumn.

He brushed past an evergreen tree, vaguely tuned into the sound of his dark boots tapping lightly against the light celadon limestone. At this hour, people were just beginning to exit their houses and preparing for work. Silver bristled slightly—he did not like the presence of other people.

Stopping abruptly in his tracks, Silver stuffed his hands inside the narrow slits that were pockets of his long-sleeved ebony shirt. Dipping his head forwards half a degree, the teenager allowed his scarlet locks to create a sheet of hair concealing his angular, attractive features from prying eyes. Hunching his back, he carefully maneuvered himself through the thickening crowd to the Pokémon Center of the town, as he did not yet have a residing place.

To his distaste, a tall teenage male accidentally brushed by him just as Silver was rounding the corner to enter the healing center. Instinctively, Silver's right hand flew out of the pocket and hit the other boy square in the gut. His unfortunate victim gave a surprised 'umph' and doubled over.

Silver was a little taken aback that his unintended attack had that much of an impact. A small flicker of guilt mingled with regret spasmed through his conscious mind, but the red-haired teenager irritably brushed the pitying feeling aside. As he had learned through his difficult childhood, the only way someone could become weak is if he pitied the weak.

"Watch your step," Silver growled in his husky, monotonous voice, silently putting his right fist back inside his pocket. Stiffly, he began walking away—and to his surprise, he found himself being assaulted from the side by a powerful, anger-loaded kick.

Giving an involuntary and rather pathetic yelp of pain, Silver's left hand flew up to meet his left abdomen, where a bruise was undoubtedly blossoming.

"The heck?" Silver grunted, preparing to slam his fist into the other boy's back.

To his surprise, Silver found his punch being stopped by the teenager's swift palm. Silver blinked. How the other boy managed to move so quickly in a matter of half seconds escaped him; he watched as the black-haired boy's bemused expression rapidly evolve into one of annoyance.

"Ruru, I don't needyour help on every trivial matter," The boy said, grinding out the words with as much frustration he could. It was quite a bit, given his somewhat cynical disposition—even Silver, who did not know him very long at all, could tell.

'I apologize, master.'

Silver blinked again; he thought he heard a voice say 'I apologize, master,' and then, he thought he didn't. He then remembered that psychic Pokémon had the unique ability to communicate telepathically in any language with humans, and decided that had to be it.

Coughing significantly, the other boy began to say, "Uh, I think that you're the one who should be doing the apologizing, actually." He nodded pointedly at Silver, who flushed indignantly.

"As if it is my fault that you crashed into me," Silver retorted automatically, trying his best to contain his anger.

The black-haired youth frowned and, much to Silver's surprise, gave a hoarse chuckle. "Man," He said, attempting to suppress a bunch of extremely girly giggles, "You're even worse than Grass Ass, and that's saying something. Now if you'll excuse me, I have some things to attend to."

Silver did not know whether to frown back at the other male or not. He watched as the teenager coolly walked onto the stone street and disappeared in the growing crowd.

A social neophyte, Silver did not know whether to follow him or not, but decided against it.

I have a task to fulfill.

He sighed.

Violet City—13:04, September 8: Monday

"No!"

"Chill, Brendan, the gym will open again tomorrow—"

"NO!"

"Brendan, just relax, you can always come again later—"

"NO! Latios, what have you wrought upon me?! Have I done unto thee some heinous deed?! I beseech thee, please erase this nightmare!"

Maxson Maple quirked an eyebrow. Brendan was caterwauling, sprouting adventitious Shakespeare. May, who had taken to the impossible act of attempting to erase Brendan's 'indelible' pain, looked extremely harassed; undoubtedly, the whole morass was taxing on her patience. Max hoped his head would not be the one taking the toll for Brendan's behavior.

In the end, May ended up dragging Brendan away from the entrance of the Pokémon Gym with her bare hands. Max was impressed by his sister's strength but wisely refrained from commenting. Instead, he trailed the all-too-conspicuous duo by a safe twenty meters, holding another magazine he had snatched from the Pokémon Center in his right hand.

Celebi: What We Know
A Johto Rougher article by Mimi S.

Celebi, one of the esteemed and widely-revered Johto legendaries, rumors to reside in the Ilex Forest, Max read to himself, There have been several alleged sightings of the Time Travel Pokémon since its first sighting in 167 by Kanto-born Johto explorer, Nathaniel Elm (ancestor of current famous professor, Jonathan Elm).

"May, I implore you to release me!" Brendan cried melodramatically. May's only reply was to tighten her hold on the scruff of Brendan's vest until her lightly-tanned knuckles blanched chalky white.

One audacious Pokémon Trainer, who prefers to keep her name anonymous, managed to record a decent amount of information in a prototype Pokédex (designed and assembled by Professor Elm) before the elusive Celebi could escape. Its confirmed height is two feet, as of March 12th, 2005, and its confirmed weight is a light 11 pounds exactly; it does not appear to have a gender, but further research may be done in this field.

Max glanced up momentarily from his magazine page and looked around himself. The throng seemed to lessen slightly, and May was leading the group towards a stately looking purple-topped building.

An interesting thing to note about Celebi is that it is extremely distrustful of humans, as can be inferred from its reluctance to interfere with human society, but it is much more amiable towards Pokémon from the few instances that we have seen it. However, it has been known to be friendly towards humans, particularly in times of need or when the human(s) in question is exceptionally kind to it. Obviously, though, Celebi has eluded capture for many centuries.

"Hey, Brendan, let's go in here," May suggested, dragging them inside the house. Looking up from his article again, Max readjusted his round glasses and surveyed the inside of the building. It appeared to be a single-roomed schoolhouse, but there were not a lot of students inside; Max glanced up at an analog clock that hung atop the wall directly in front of him. It read '13:08'. Perhaps the students were out at lunch. Shrugging, he returned to his article.

The same person who partially recorded Celebi's data in the Pokédex commented that the Pokémon's eyes were extremely expressive. While this observation may have no scientific uses, perhaps we can infer from this that the Pokémon is particularly attached to its emotions, which is not an unheard of quality for a legendary Pokémon (examples include Mew, Manaphy, etc.). She also remarked that the Pokémon emanated a great deal of

— Max was cut off abruptly in his reading by someone above him giving a booming laugh.

Annoyed, the blue-haired boy closed his magazine and stared up at his intruder, who was an old man with a stubby white beard.

"Ah, we have a kid here who likes to read?" The old man said, laughing jovially. Max was alarmed, and became more so when the old man reached down to ruffle his blue hair. May dropped Brendan in shock, and he landed noisily on the wooden ground. "That's a rarity! Say, kid, you're new to Violet Town, eh? I haven't seen you around these parts before."

Perturbed, Max replied somewhat shakily, "N-no, I'm from Hoenn." As an afterthought, he added, "Sir."

"Wow! From Hoenn, eh?" The old man said, laughing again. "That's quite far away! Say, is this your first time here at Earl's Pokémon Academy?—I'm Earl, by the way." Without waiting for Max to answer, Earl steamrollered on, "Say, who did you come with?"

Much to Max's relief, May cut in for him. "I'm his sister, May, and I'm responsible for Max." Earl turned towards May, eyebrows raised at the interruption, and then he glanced down at where Brendan was lying in a pathetic pile on the floor; Earl's eyebrows disappeared into his mass of gray hair. "And, uh, that's my friend Brendan," May continued, pointing towards Brendan, who grunted in acknowledgement of his name and struggled to pull himself to his feet.

"Ah! We have a bunch of young ones here then, eh?" Earl chuckled deviously. "I assume that you, May, and Brendan are Pokémon Trainers? Judging from your experienced-looking appearances and, well, the Pokeballs on Brendan's belt."

Brendan half-whimpered, half-scowled. May beamed at the compliment. "Yes, Brendan's a Pokémon Trainer, but I'm a Pokémon Coordinator; there's not much of a difference, but there still is. We're on our Pokémon journey. Your name's Earl, right?"

"Yes!" Earl said. Max was not altogether surprised by the fact that May and Earl were getting along so smoothly; his sister was simply social like that. "Say, are you looking to enroll Max here into the Pokémon Academy? A reading-loving boy like him would fit in just fine with our crowd of rowdy students!"

Max turned pleadingly towards May; he did not want to be stuck here while she and Brendan went off on their Pokémon journey. Plus, he did not like Earl's undoubtedly deliberate usage of the word 'rowdy'. Luckily for him, May was looking apprehensive as well, presumably at the thought of submitting her younger brother to the likes of such an insistent schoolteacher. Unfortunately, the idea of leaving her troublesome little brother must have somehow leeched into her mind, and a much more scheming expression crept onto her angular face.

"Please, May! I don't want to stay here," Max whined under his breath, hoping he didn't sound as annoying as he sounded to himself.

May finally relented to her brother's whining and, turning towards Earl, said, "Sorry, but Max is coming with us. Thank you for the offer, though."

Earl looked slightly disappointed, but another cheery smile soon replaced that. "Ah, oh well, then. But here, take this item as a token of my gratitude!" Saying that, Earl reached into his pants pockets and pulled out a sharp, curved claw, handing it to May, who accepted it and eyed it curiously.

Max instantaneously recognized the object as a Quick Claw, and before he could restrain himself, he blurted out, "That's a Quick Claw! A Pokémon holding that in battle will sometimes be able to strike first, even if they are naturally slow. Using it, a Slowpoke can even attack before a Rapidash!"

"Golly! That's a smart one. You're very correct," Earl exclaimed, appearing genuinely awed. Even Brendan was a little impressed, though May simply scowled at her brother. "A real pity that we couldn't have him at our Academy, but, all the same, the best of luck to you."

"Wait—why are you giving this to us again?" Brendan suddenly cut in suspiciously. May looked somewhat irritatingly at the teenage boy; she clearly did not want to surrender the item, and given Brendan's skeptical nature, things may not turn out in May's favor.

"Oh, I just feel like it," Earl said, waving his hand vaguely. Max had the feeling that Earl was deliberately concealing something from them, though he had another feeling that whatever it was it was not malignant. The answer was not enough for Brendan, though; the black-haired male opened his mouth to fire another volley of questions, but May clamped her palm over his mouth and dragged him away, shouting thanks at Earl over her shoulder.

Max shrugged and, rolling up his magazine, pocketed it. He wondered how long he would have to tag along after May and Brendan before he could get his own Pokémon.

Violet City—19:34, September 8: Monday

May Maple sank luxuriantly into the lime-green sofa at the Violet City Pokémon Center, her body aching all over. After another day of intense training with Brendan (interspersed with random, rather awkward tips on makeup), she was ready to fall right back asleep.

Brendan was at the counter, healing May's Beautifly for her. Flopping lazily to the other side, May kicked her brother off the end of the sofa, ignoring his protests, and tried to fall into dreamland, but failed.

The faint 'bzz' of the sliding door open once again pulled May out of another attempt to fall asleep. Aggravated, the brown-haired girl pulled herself out of the sofa and looked up at the intruder: a stocky but tall man with a full beard and moustache; sleek, well-combed brown hair topped his head. Originally having intended to gather up an annoyed insult or two to throw at the intruder, May found her initial desire fading away; he was confident and fastidious in stride and exuded a genial, courteous aura.

"Done yet, Brendan?" May called out, deciding to ignore the presence of the newcomer, who was unclipping a couple of Pokeballs from a black leather belt around his waist.

"Yes," Brendan replied, walking over to wear May was seated and tossed her Pokeball to her. May fumbled with catching the capsule device and stuffed it inside her dandelion fanny pack. "Well, we should go for dinner. . . oh, wait."

"What's wrong?" May said. From somewhere to her bottom-left, Max flipped a magazine page, muttering incoherently under his breath.

"I. . . ran out of money," Brendan admitted, embarrassingly scratching the back of his neck, his pale face pinking. "You know, from your previous ramen. . . sprees."

May felt her face blanch. "You what?"

"Ran out of money."

"Does this mean that I won't get to eat ramen?" May suddenly recalled seeing numerous ramen shops lining the green streets of Violet City. "I remember seeing a lot of ramen shops." Max snickered under his breath; May kicked her brother in the back of his head with more force than their mother would approve of.

"Unfortunately, yes," Brendan said, backing away slowly. "But, uh, I'm sure I can whip up a peanut-butter and jelly sandwich or two for you to eat. . ." He trailed off. May did not prefer peanut-butter and jelly sandwiches over a bowlful of steaming ramen, and her face showed it. She had no intention of hurting Brendan, who had been more than kind to her, but her emotions were getting the best of her.

Just as May was wondering just what she was going to do about this monumental problem, the brown-haired stranger interrupted, "Excuse me, but if you don't mind, I can treat you three to dinner. You see, I work as an emcee at the Goldenrod-Johto Radio Tower, and I have some extra change to spare."

May felt an enormous pressure being alleviated from her chest. Brendan decided to unceremoniously ruin her moment of glory.

"I'm sorry, but we cannot accept your offer, as kind as it is," Brendan said, "I mean, no offense or anything, but you're a complete strang—" May clamped her gloved hand over Brendan's mouth, successfully muffling his words.

Before May could excuse Brendan's most unintended, accidental sentence, the stranger chuckled and said, "Oh, you're very right. Perhaps I should show you my Trainer's license." Saying that, he dug out a sleek coppery card from the breast pocket of his brown shirt and showed it to them. Sure enough, May recognized the formal, Pokeball-shaped stamp of the Interregional Pokémon League emblazoned across the top-right corner of the card. Her azure eyes travelled across the surface of the identification card, and she saw that the man's name was 'Arthur Knight', and that he had been registered seventeen years ago as an official Pokémon League Trainer.

Hmm. . . normally, Trainers start off at age 10, May mused silently, scratching her pointed chin, So. . . ten plus seventeen equals. . .

Vaguely, May registered Brendan snatching the identification card and scrutinizing it as if it were a fraud will that endangered his chances of inheriting a million Pokédollars.

Sixty-three? No, that can't be right. . .

"Very well," Brendan relented, handing the card back to the man who smiled affably and tucked it back inside his shirt pocket. The teenager's hand twitched very subtly towards a Pokeball clipped on his green belt.

Oh! I know!

"You're seventy-nine!" May declared vociferously. Brendan stared and forgot about his misgivings of Arthur, and Max slapped his hand over his face.

Fortunately, Arthur was not offended by May's declaration, but instead laughed bemusedly at her statement. May wondered why; and her questions were answered by his reply. "No, I'm twenty-seven," Arthur said. May felt both embarrassed and defiant. "But we should be going, no?"

"Yeah," Max agreed off-handedly for the two teenagers, who were both somewhat despondent in deposition. Arthur smiled and beckoned for the three to exit the Pokémon Center.

May stepped out into the night, inhaling the cool autumn air, and suddenly feeling much more energetic than she had when she had entered.

Violet City—19:56, September 8: Monday

Lounging on her chair, Marina Crystal Clearwater could hardly believe that she had actually accepted Jimmy's (begging) request to eat at a ramen shop.

At first she had thought Jimmy was kidding—he knew just how much she disliked eastern cooking, despite her mother being native to Kanto and her father only half-Hoenn, (1) but it had turned out that he was dead serious. It was rather unfortunate that Jimmy's good friend Bill the Eevee fanatic had gotten a copy of Pokémon Celebrities NOW before she herself could lay her little hands on the celebrity-centered magazine; and it was even more so that the front cover of the gossipy monthly sported a photo of Lance Dragonclaw, with his proud red cape flowing in the background.

Marinaadored Lance. (and his cape.) So how could she refuse?

However, as their waitress—a buxom but suspiciously fidgety blonde woman who wore too much eye makeup—brought them their two bowls of steaming beef (2) -flavored noodles, Marina wondered if she were going to suffer a traumatic breakdown, like the kinds from the television show she watched ("Law and Order").

Jimmy, utterly oblivious to Marina's imminent emotional dissolution, happily slurped up half of one of his six bowls of ramen (he had ordered one of each flavor, despite Marina's express distaste). Marina lackadaisically poked at her noodles, and could have sworn that a strand moved; even her gravity-defying cerulean pigtails were drooping.

"Oh my Latios! Brendan, Max, look at all that ramen!" A shrill female voice from behind Marina shouted, eliciting an unceremonious burp from Jimmy. Irritably, Marina turned around to see who the intruder was, only to find herself facing a certain May, who was looking by far more excited than Marina had ever seen the girl.

"Hey, hello!" Marina said, now with her usual girlish vigor, harboring the half-hope that May might rescue her from her ramen-induced hell, though, judging from the way May was hungrily eyeing Jimmy's half dozen bowls of the aforementioned dish, Marina thought she might not have too much luck.

Indeed, Marina was right to despair. May, who had forgotten all dignity, had been unable to restrain whichever ravenous demon she was home to and had, grabbing hold of Jimmy's white hood, thrown him off of his chair with one arm and strength parallel to that of a mothering Ursaring. She seated herself where Jimmy was—apparently forgetting her brain for a few moments—and had, seemingly instantaneously (to Marina's slow-working turquoise eyes at least) gulped down the entire contents of two bowls of ramen—at once.

"H-hi," Max replied to Marina's greeting somewhat shakily—looking down, Marina saw that she had overlooked the blue-haired youth, and Brendan behind him as well. He, too, looked shaken by May's barbaric behavior, and appalled at the fact that she had not ceased in her doings and was not intending to in the foreseeable future.

"Ow," said Jimmy as he struggled to push himself to his feet.

Ignoring Jimmy (for he got what he deserved, in Marina's vicious opinion), Marina said to Brendan and Max, "You're Brendan and Max, right? I remember you from the ship." Then, remembering a little more of the circumstances that surrounded the S.S. Tidal, proceeded to flash a flirtatious grin at Brendan. Jimmy stirred and bounced to his feet with buoyancy Marina had previously thought impossible of his lazy self.

"Yes; you are Marina, unless I am very much mistaken," Brendan said, looking away from May and attempting to act as nonchalant as possible, undoubtedly hoping that when the restaurant security came, they would not associate him with May and thus not throw him out. Max adopted a similar stance and edged away, with the excuse that he had to use the bathroom. However, Marina was disappointed that Brendan had ignored her smile.

"Yes, I am, and, well, that's Jimmy," Marina said, gesturing towards said black-haired teenager, who was now approaching Brendan and her with a stern expression on his usually affable face. Oddly enough, he seemed not to care that May was eating his dinner.

Brendan turned stiffly towards Jimmy; Marina suddenly recalled that the two boys had separated with less-than-friendly feelings weighing on their backs, and feared for both's mortalities.

"Hello, Jimmy," Brendan said edgily. Unfortunately for Jimmy, Brendan's intimidating height played out in his favor.

"Hello, Brendan." Jimmy replied, thin lips twitching to form a more-or-less straight line.

"More ramen!" May yelled, slamming two empty bowls on the table, letting them join their four equally empty comrades, and stamping her feet.

Luckily, a tall man then entered the scene. Evidently being fairly well acquainted with Brendan, May, and Max, he stepped into the dilemma and ended it with adult-like responsibility but patient understanding.

"Brendan, and Jimmy, I believe, please restrain May before she causes further trouble," He said, "And Max. . . wait. . . where did he go?"

"WC," Brendan grunted in reply, struggling with his momentous task of dragging May away from the table, muttering words that were best left incoherent under his breath.

Turning towards Marina, the man said, "Hello," and extended a hand out in greeting. Surprised by his friendliness, Marina returned the handshake and looked around for another table to seat herself at. She had a feeling that the dinner would not be uneventful.

Little did Marina know that, from behind two newspapers, two pairs of green eyes blinked synonymously. . .

Author's Notes:

(1) Since the Pokémon world is obviously different from the human world, I've decided to separate certain regions into different cultures/religions/races/etc. Kanto is (mainly eastern) Asia/parts of the Philippines, Johto is Eurasia/Europe, Hoenn is the Americas, and Sinnoh (split into North/South) is Africa and Oceania. However, the cultural/racial/etc. split of the four Pokémon regions (in this story at least) are slightly different from that of Earth as we know it. If you have any suggestions pertaining to the geography and the peoples of the Pokémon world, be sure to inform me of them.

(2) I'm not quite sure what sort of meat the characters in this story will consume, but I am leaning for a completely Pokémon world, despite several anime-stemmed contradictions to that suggestion. Beef is Tauros-flavored, the chicken would be Torchic, the duck would be Far'Fetchd, the sheep would be Flaffy, etc. However, I find the idea of eating such battle-suited Pokémon rather repulsive (excluding Far'Fetchd though -laughs-); perhaps I shall reach a compromise to this problem by creating farms on which Pokémon with no battle abilities are bred. . . but then that would cause all sorts of controversy. . . Ooh, I scent plot. . . Err, ignore me (and if you think of snatching that idea, I will be very unhappy), I am rambling.

Wow. I finished.

Hmm. . . Do you think I should cut future chapters in half? That way, I would be able to update much quicker and whiz through the updates, instead of have situations like these, in which a day would drag on for literally a month.

. . . er. . . Review please? c: