Little Roots: A Champion's memoir

by The Hint Guy

The adventures of a young trainer named Lidya Pine in the harsh, unforgiving world of Pokémon. A storylocke (written narrative of a nuzlocke) of the original Pokémon Sapphire (not the 3DS remake). Contains occasional strong language, violence, and sexuality (lime). Please R&R.

11. Norman

Chapter 11: Norman

About five weeks after I caught Ruby, I finally felt ready to face my father. I checked out of the hostel, climbed astride my bike, and began pedaling west. I passed through Verdanturf, down the narrow tube that was the Rusturf tunnel, and into Rustboro. I briefly contemplated stopping to see Roxy, but decided against it. I'd only want to stay if I met with her.

The bike allowed me to cover a lot of ground quickly, but even so, the journey from Mauville to Rustboro took two days. I stopped at the trainer lodge in Petalburg Woods that night, and left the next morning.

My bike's gears clicked and spun as I pushed onward through the forest, emerging on the north end of Route 104. There was the field where Hotwings had killed that Wurmple. There was the patch where I'd met Wally. So many things had happened here. The memories were flooding into me like a spring thaw.

I crossed Route 104 and finally entered the town. It felt great to come back to Petalburg, to the familiar streets and buildings of the little hamlet. Despite the trepidation I felt at the prospect of facing my father, it was good to know I was closer to home than I'd been in… five months? Really? Time had flown.

I stopped by the PC first thing, to see Taylor.

"Lidya!" she called, looking shocked. "What are you doing here?" Her face betrayed an unexpected emotion: anxiety.

I didn't notice. "I'm here to face the Gym. I've already got four badges. I need this one in order to surf, and I need surf to get to the other gyms."

Taylor shifted from one foot to the other. "Did you tell your dad you're here?"

"No," I said. "I just got in. I wanted to see you."

Now she smiled. "Well kid, it's good to see you. Really good. Why don't you come back in an hour? I can take my break then."

I returned an hour later and Taylor and I chatted, catching up on the times. It'd been since before Flannery that I'd called her; I was so wrapped up in training that I'd totally forgotten about it. She commented on my new, hardened appearance more than once.

"You've gotten so tan…" she kept saying. "And your hair is all blondish now."

I grinned. "I know. I look like I've been at the beach."

Taylor was studying me carefully. "You know Lidya, your skin and hair aren't the only things that've changed." She kept glancing deliberately at my chest.

I suddenly felt extremely self-conscious. "Oh, that. I was hoping you wouldn't notice." In the past month or so, I'd noticed a definite… increase, in certain… areas. Being only thirteen (fourteen a few weeks later) and away on my own, I was a bit uncertain how to handle the, well, it wouldn't be fair to call them a problem, but… I was thoroughly embarrassed about the whole thing.

Fortunately, Taylor once again provided calm, gentle guidance. "Sweetheart, come with me. We need to get you set up with some, ah, support."

An hour later, I bid Taylor a fond farewell and headed for the hostel, making sure to stuff the three little bras she'd helped me select as deep into my backpack as they could possibly go.

This, like so many other "firsts" on my journey to becoming Champion, was simultaneously awkward, difficult, terrifying, and a little bit exciting.

I decided not to waste any more time. Dad's gym loomed before me. What would happen when I passed through those doors? Would I find my father waiting for me there? Would he be happy to see me? And did I have what it took to beat him in battle? With a start I realized that I didn't even know what type he favored. So I read the sign at the door. Petalburg Gym. Leader: Norman. A man in search of power!

Not a very inviting tagline.

I stood outside for another minute, just breathing. Trying to mentally prepare myself. All those years of wanting to know about Pokémon but being denied by the man who was waiting beyond those doors… and now I would approach him not as his child, but as a challenger. This was not the kind of thing an thirteen-year-old should have to deal with.

I clenched my hands into fists, exhaled loudly, and walked into the gym.

A man stood in the lobby. He was grubby, with a regal neck-beard and an "I Heart Pikachu" t-shirt. "Hey, champ-in-the-making," he said cheerfully. I looked behind me.

"Are you talking to me?" I asked.

"You bet," the man continued. "Just got a tip for ya about this gym."

"Um, okay?" I cocked my head at him. "What is it?"

"The trainers in this gym each reside in their own rooms. Each room has a theme. Choose a door," he gestured with his head at a set of two doors on the far wall, both labeled in large letters, "and you'll be facing one of them!"

"That's… helpful, I guess," I said slowly, backing away. This guy was kind of a creeper.

I chose the accuracy room. Inside stood a lone trainer atop a bamboo mat. The space was cozy, almost homey, with a low ceiling and dim lighting. I studied the young woman waiting there for me. She looked like a teenager, with green hair and a smug grin on her beautiful face. Her clothes were trendy. "Welcome to the accuracy room," she intoned as I approached. "Are you ready to see how it feels to face an enemy whose strikes land every time?"

"You know it," I said. What was the deal with these themed rooms?

'What's your name?" she asked.

"Lidya Pine."

"The Lidya Pine? Norman's daughter?"

I sighed. "Yes."

She seemed to relax a little. "Well, I'll let the others know you're here. You're on the level, right?"

I assumed she meant I thought myself strong enough to face the challenges ahead. "I'm on the level," I answered, trying to sound confident.

"Cool." The trainer released a Delcatty-a little orange cat with purple tufts of fur decorating its body-and waited. I chose Breaker. Cat versus dog.

But then a curious thing happened: the trainer beckoned her Pokémon to her side and administered some sort of eye drops to the creature. What the heck? Was that medicine, or… something else?

Turned out to be the latter. The Delcatty returned to the ring with horrible dilated pupils, staring at Breaker like two black spotlights. Even Breaker's lighting-fast movements didn't go unnoticed, as the Delcatty watched every move with pinpoint precision. Was this the promised "accuracy" of the room? What was going on here?

"What did you do to your Pokémon just now?" I asked.

She winked at me. "A bit of X Accuracy. Let's see how you fare against it!"

Confused, I ordered Breaker to use thunder wave, paralyzing the foe. Delcatty lashed back with a fierce scratch, but after a few rounds of spark from Breaker, the dog won the day.

The trainer I'd beaten gestured behind herself. "Well battled. To my left is the defense room. To the right is the recovery room." Pausing a moment, she added, "I can't wait to watch you fight your dad. This is so exciting! He kept saying that he thought you'd wind up here eventually." She was like a gushing fangirl.

I was already almost out the door, having decided to double back and go to the speed room next. "Let him know I'm on my way," I called over my shoulder.

This gym was weird.

The speed room was exactly the same in design as the accuracy room. Here a young man who looked more or less like a male version of the other trainer stood waiting. He too promised a tough battle, and he too unleashed a Delcatty. I was beginning to notice a pattern.

The pattern continued with the strange medicine. This time the trainer actually injected a substance into his Pokémon's neck. I could see a change come over the creature in seconds-it began to twitch fiercely, its eyes darting from side to side, its whole body tensed as if about to spring. I chose Breaker once more, knowing that if I could paralyze the enemy, their speed advantage would be wasted. Sure enough, the thunder wave and spark combo proved too much, even for the speed-boosted opponent.

"So, you're Lidya Pine," the trainer said cooly, putting away a small PokéNav in his pocket. "The leader's kid." Dammit, he must be sending messages to the trainers in the other rooms.

I winced. "Yeah." No need to remind me.

"Your dad is really awesome," the trainer went on. "Working here is great. He really helps us to make our Pokémon the strongest they can be, no matter the cost."

I rolled my eyes. "Uh huh."

"Anyway, you can go into one of these rooms. The defense room is on my left, and the zero reduction room is on my right."

"Right," I replied, already heading for the defense room door.

The remainder of the rooms looked the same and contained exactly the same kind of people, so I'll gloss over this part a bit. Suffice to say, my steady march through the gym only served to harden my determination.

The defense room trainer used a beige and brown ferret-like Linoone, and injected it with what she called "X Defend", causing its body to "dull pain" and "become harder", as the trainer put it. I bested the foe with Juliet's special attacks-leech seed, giga drain, and magical leaf.

The recovery room featured another Linoone. This time I chose Ms. Splish, whose giant body practically filled the space. The Linoone's trainer kept calling it back to his side during the battle to administer some sort of "super potion", healing its wounds and reenergizing it. Ms. Splish's raw power was enough to take it down in the end, though.

Next on my list was the one-hit KO room. I stood in trepidation outside the door, flashbacks of Suzie, Noguri, Crystal, Tina, and Brad lingering in my eyes. But I was stronger now. We were stronger now. Here, the trainer did something I'd never seen before: he attached purple objects to his Zangoose's claws. "Better chance of a critical hit," he explained, smiling as though this were a perfectly normal thing to do.

Blades. They were blades. He'd given his Pokémon a weapon.

"What the hell is that?" I asked, shocked. "You can't do that!"

"It's just a dire hit! You're welcome to use one too, shortie." The trainer grinned teasingly at me.

"Whatever. I'll beat you without it," I spat. Despite the terrible danger, Hotwings was able to knock out the foe with a well-placed double kick, avoiding all harm. "Your father was right about you," the trainer said as he recalled his Pokémon. "You're tough."

I wasn't sure how to feel about this comment. "Thanks, I guess," I said. My dad thought I was tough? Why? He'd never seen me fight, never taught me how to battle, nothing. Where'd he get that idea? And why was he talking me up to his loyal minions here in the gym? This place was getting stranger by the second.

Being young and still somewhat naive (didn't stay that way long after Petalburg Gym, but I get ahead of myself), it took me until the attack room to finally figure out what was happening here: drugs. Performance-enhancing drugs were being used with reckless abandon. I recalled reading something about them in one of the books back at the trainer school, but I never thought I'd actually see them first-hand. Yet there could be no denying it, especially when the attack room trainer injected her Zangoose, causing its muscles to bulge unnaturally, its fur and flesh straining to contain them. I defeated it with Ruby, whose defensive spiked plating offered the best resistance to the enemy's claws.

The strength room was the same as the attack room-a muscled-up Zangoose against my shiny Sandslash. It was an easy fight.

The last room was the zero-reduction room. This trainer used a misty spray to cover his Linoone in a cloud of smoky dust. "Just try changing his stats now!" the trainer jeered. I didn't bother-Count's teeth were plenty sharp on their own.

"You really are our leader's kid, aren't you?" the guy said after I beat him. "I can see it in your eyes. That look you have."

I felt embarrassed and irritated. "I'm not my father."

"You fight like him," the man added, shrugging.

"Tell him I'll be here tomorrow afternoon," I growled. I left without another word, feeling confused. But hey, I'd done it. The Gym was clear. All that was left was one final challenge. I was sure it'd be the hardest battle of my life so far.

Because I was able to get a single room at the hostel, I let my Pokémon out to play. Count hung from the ceiling. Ms. Splish was, unfortunately, too big to let out here in the room. Juliet and Breaker were shuffling around together, while Hotwings and Ruby seemed to be chatting. I wondered if they could understand each other.

I made a quick phone call to Taylor. When she picked up, there was a strange airy quality in her voice, as though she were out of breath. "Hi. What's up?"

"Just wanted to talk."

She panted, once, twice. "Sorry, I really can't right now. Come by the center tomorrow-my shift starts at nine."

"Are you, like, at the gym or something?"

A very long pause. "Um, what do you mean?"

"Like are you working out on the treadmill or whatever? You sound like you're breathing hard."

Her voice was full of unexpected relief as she said, "Oh! Yeah, that's it. I'm working out."

I sighed, disappointed. "All right. Have fun. I'll see you tomorrow." I hung up.

Maybe it was better for me to prepare on my own tonight. Take some time to focus. As I lay on my bed in my pajamas-having decided to go for the badge first thing in the morning-my thoughts turned to the day's events.

Something was seriously off about Dad's gym. Was it the vacant expressions on the faces of the hip young trainers inside? Was it the fact that every trainer I'd battled had used some kind of performance-enhancing drug? How could that stuff even be legal?

I let out a little gasp. Of course. It wasn't. What had that first trainer said? You're Lidya? Norman's daughter? She knew me, and she knew my connection. Her use of the "X Accuracy", as she'd called it, was what she meant when she asked if I were on the level. Would I tattle, that's what she wanted to know. She told the other trainers via their PokéNav. And everything after that: the X Speed, the X Defense, the Dire Hit, the Super Potions, all of it had to be all kinds of illegal. I knew the regulations-they were available on my Pokédex, and I'd read through them several times.

This raised a bigger and perhaps more important question: Did Dad know?

With a sick feeling in my stomach, I realized the obvious truth: of course he did. Every one of those trainers knew him, knew me, and knew that I, as his daughter, wouldn't say anything if they juiced up their Pokémon right in front of me. They assumed he'd told me all about it. Was this why he left Mom and I behind so many nights back in Johto? Was that why he'd moved us out here? Was he… protecting us? I mean, we'd always had enough money. More than enough, it seemed. Was this the source? Drugs? Did Dad sell or manufacture drugs?

Perhaps he really was doing a noble thing, then. Perhaps-and here I let my limited knowledge of crime drama take over-he'd gotten in hot water back in Johto, and rather than pay up or ice whoever was after him, he'd packed his family and changed regions. He was providing for us the best way he could.

I felt an odd pang of sympathy for my father. Despite a lot of anger, I could understand where he was coming from… assuming my hunch was correct. Which I knew it might well not be.

I fell asleep that night thinking about my impending showdown. Be ready, Dad. You're next.

---

The sun was just peeking over the treetops as I got dressed that morning. I headed to the gym at seven, when the sign on the door said it opened. Changed my mind about waiting: I wanted to get this settled now. One of the cool trainers from yesterday was unlocking the door-the speed room trainer, I thought. He looked like he could use some of that speed himself: groggy, with sleep in his eyes.

"Whazzup?" he said as I pushed past him into the room.

"Looking for the leader. Is he up yet?"

The trainer blinked at me. "Uh, yeah but uh, he's probably still with-"

"Thanks," I said, not waiting for him to finish. I navigated my way through the various rooms until I stood before the door to the leader's hall. This was it. No turning back. I pushed open the door and stepped inside.

This room was much the same as the others, but larger, and here the floor was dirt, with a Pokéball design brushed into it carefully. At the back I could see another door, this one labeled Private in large letters. And standing at the far end, dressed in his signature red coat and black pants, was my father. Norman. The Gym Leader.

"Lidya?" he said. "You're up early." There was no surprise in his tone.

I shrugged, wanting to appear nonchalant. In truth I was feeling a huge mix of powerful emotions: happiness at seeing my father again, anger for all the times he'd declined to tell me about Pokémon, pride at what I'd accomplished even without his help, shame at feeling so much doubt about his motives, and fear that I might not be able to beat him, or even worse, that I would easily.

"It's like you always say: there's a time and place for everything."

He smiled. "I do always say that. Have you called your mother lately?"

I felt embarrassed. "I haven't."

"Hm." He frowned. "You should call her more often. She worries."

"Do you worry?"

His face remained unchanged. "Of course."

I rubbed my arm, suddenly feeling self-conscious. "I'm… here to battle you. For a badge."

My father did not smile. "I thought as much. You beat all my gym trainers yesterday. Bunch of lousy shitheads. I'll have to get some new people in here."

I winced. "They did their best. I'm just stronger than them."

"Doesn't matter. They lack the discipline I desire in a trainer."

I nodded, as if understanding. "Well, anyway…"

Dad withdrew a Pokéball from his belt. I took one from the strap at my chest. "Listen Lidya: I knew we'd end up here one day. Battling. And I want you to know…"

I held my breath.

"...I won't be holding back."

So much for being proud of me, I thought. What I said was: "Breaker! Get'm!"

Norman-my father-let out a sharp yell and unleashed his first Pokémon. Despite almost fourteen years as his daughter, I had no idea what it might be. The creature that emerged shook the floor as its massive bulk landed. It looked a bit like a gorilla, with thick, hairy arms and legs, a massive tummy, and narrow eyes hidden beneath overhanging brows. Its nose was pink, and it had a white frill of fur around its neck. The beast towered over Breaker, whose small blue and yellow form seemed absolutely microscopic by comparison.

But I'd learned enough not to be intimidated by size. "Breaker! Thunder wave!" Breaker sent out a paralyzing field, and I saw the enemy's body go rigid. Success!

"Slaking, focus punch," Norman barked. Slaking twitched, fully paralyzed.

"Breaker, spark!" Breaker launched a bolt of electricity into the enemy. It was working! I was winning!

Norman didn't even give a command to Slaking after the first barrage. It seemed that Slaking was taking a nap. What was with this weird Pokémon? Did it even do anything?

Breaker danced and darted around, firing off another spark. Now Slaking began to look injured. But just as I thought we were on the way to a knockout, my dad surprised me once again: he called the Slaking to his side and administered some a potion from an unusual spray bottle, healing the creature's wounds.

"Hey!" I shrieked. "Not you too!" My heart was sinking down into my feet. This proved it: my dad was into drugs.

"A trainer must do whatever it takes to win, no matter the cost," Dad said calmly. "Potions are legal for trainer use during battle-this is simply a more effective formula. A Super Potion."

I blinked. That… well, that was true… but still! "Hmph," I grunted. "Just keep fighting me."

"As you wish." Slaking returned to the field, its health restored. I noticed that it was still paralyzed, though, and Breaker took advantage, darting around at a blazing pace. In no time Slaking was right back where it had been: bleeding and on the verge of fainting.

It seems Fate has it out for me in situations like these, for right as victory appears, it's snatched away in the jaws of defeat.

Breaker, noting the foe's weakness, grew a bit bolder and crept in closer. Slaking had barely moved this entire fight. But it was a ruse, a facade: as Breaker got within arm's reach, Slaking lunged out and brought a giant fist directly down on the lightning dog. I heard a disgusting squelch. When the fist was pulled away, there was only a red mash where Breaker's head had once been. The lifeless body slumped over. Slaking brushed it away with his hand, sending it tumbling out of the battle ring, trailing blood.

"Dammit!" I cried, biting back tears. Another companion lost in the blink of an eye. One hit kill. Not fair.

Norman said nothing, did nothing. He simply waited.

I knew better than to stop the battle, even though I wanted to. Sure, Slaking probably hadn't meant to kill Breaker, but my dad just stood there like nothing had happened. My sadness was replaced by a new emotion: vengeful rage. So I sent out the biggest thing I could: Ms. Splish. She'd fare better. She had to.

And she did. "Splish! Bite!" Ms. Splish took a huge chomp with her giant jaws, knocking Slaking unconscious. Norman recalled him and immediately sent in his second Pokémon. I was ready with D3X this time, and identified the foe as Vigoroth, Slaking's unevolved form-a fast-moving red and white sloth that stood upright on its hind legs.

It screeched and flexed its claws. Ms. Splish was unimpressed. I had her use dragon rage, sending a barrage of fireballs at Vigoroth. The bouncy beast replied with a fierce slash, drawing blood. But it was for naught: another dragon rage was all it took to bring him down.

Now I finally saw the expression on my dad's face begin to change. He was gritting his teeth and there were beads of sweat on his brow. Good. I wanted him to struggle.

He threw his final Pokéball, and the last battle began. Another Slaking. I pulled Ms. Splish out and sent in Juliet, hoping my new plan would work.

"Leech seed!" Juliet fired a barrage of spores at Slaking, which clung to his fur and began leaching energy.

"Slaking, facade." Slaking took a swing at Juliet, sending her tumbling backward and knocking off some of her petals. She rose unsteadily to her feet, badly hurt. At first I felt hopeless-if one blow did that, she wouldn't survive another. But wait… the seeds! They sent some energy back to her, revitalizing her. And… what was this? Slaking was groaning and shaking its hand. Oh! Juliet's poison point ability. Her poisonous spines. One had stuck into the creatures paw, injecting it with venom. I saw Slaking's skin began to change color as the toxin did its work.

"Juliet, return! Go, Hotwings!" I decided to seize the type advantage. Fighting beats normal. But did Hotwings have what it took to withstand a hit or two? Slaking was preoccupied with the leech seeds and the poison. I had to make a call. Should I take a chance on double kick, hoping to knock Slaking out in one turn? Or use dig, and count on the residual damage to finish him off?

I noticed Breaker's corpse on the side of the ring. No more taking chances.

"Hotwings, dig!"

"Slaking, focus punch." Slaking leapt with shocking speed to its feet and reared back its massive arm, readying a deadly strike.

Hotwings clucked and dove, disappearing in a shower of dirt.

Slaking missed. It staggered and fell, just as Hotwings burst up from beneath with claws outstretched, rending flesh. Slaking was clearly at the end of its strength, but still clung to consciousness.

I hesitated a moment. If I ordered Hotwings to strike again, he'd likely kill the Slaking. My mother's words echoed: Make him feel so low… Was this what she meant? Is this what she wanted? For me to kill my father's Pokémon? And what would Taylor think? Is this what Taylor would do?

No. It couldn't be. They were both too kind-they would never want that.

"Hotwings, stand down," I ordered. Hotwings took a step back.

With one final groan as the poison and seeds did their work, Slaking fainted.

It was over. I'd done it. I'd defeated my father.

But he was, albeit unintentionally, about to defeat me too.

As he recalled Slaking to its Pokéball, the door to the private room behind him creaked open suddenly, causing both of us to turn our heads. A blast of loud music came from within, and I could see furnishings. His apartment, then.

Taylor walked out, barefoot, wearing only tiny blue volleyball shorts and one of my dad's undershirts. Her breasts-much more developed than mine, to say the least-were clearly visible through the thin white fabric, and her hair was pulled into a rough ponytail, mostly disheveled.

My blood turned to ice.

"Norm, did you want chocolate chips in your oh my god it's Lidya."

All of us froze, just staring at each other. Thirteen or not, it wasn't hard for me to figure out what was happening. What had been happening. Last night… oh my god, last night, was she...? Had they been...? And when I asked if she were at the gym, and she paused, she must've thought… oh my god.

"Oh my god," I choked. "Taylor, you? You're…?" I couldn't bring myself to say it.

Taylor put up her hands. "Lidya, wait, it's… it's not what it… I, uh… oh my god…" She trailed off. I could see tears beginning to form in her eyes.

I began to cry silently too, letting the water run down my cheeks. My father met my furious gaze. I couldn't remember ever being so angry and so hurt. The pain inside me felt like a hundred blades were filleting my heart.

"How could you?" I whispered. I pointed a finger at my dad and screamed, "How could you?"

"Lidya," my dad started. His face betrayed no emotion. "You don't understand."

"Oh, I understand perfectly," I growled. "You lied to me. You betrayed me." My eyes locked on Taylor. "Both of you."

"Lidya, please," Taylor said desperately. "Calm down, please. Let's… let's talk."

I shook my head no. Paused. Stared daggers at my father. Why wasn't he upset? He just stood there, unmoving. "Give me my badge," I said softly.

"Lidya, listen to m-"

"Give me my badge!" I screamed as loud as I could. "I beat you! Give me my badge!"

Dad flinched. He slid his hand into his pocket and withdrew two objects-the Balance Badge, and a TM disc. Wordlessly, he held them out.

I walked across the blood-stained arena and snatched them from his hands, then turned and stormed toward the door.

"Lidya, wait!" Dad called.

I spun around, unable to contain an outburst. "What, Dad? What other lies do you want to tell me? Want to tell me who else are you cheating on Mom with? Or do you want to tell me about all the drugs in your gym? Or maybe why we had to move here from Johto? Did you get in trouble with the law? Did you fuck too many sluts? Or maybe you want to tell me why you never, ever, ever showed me your Pokémon, or told me about Pokémon, or even loved me at all, you selfish bastard!"

I turned and left, slamming the door.

I made a promise to myself right then, as I pushed past the clueless trainers on my way to the exit. I was never going back. They could both rot, for all I cared.

My father and my best friend were as good as dead to me now.