Warnings: None

Between the Stars and the Sea

Chapter 11:

"The Narrator's Past; Route 30"

"If I'm being completely honest," she said, "Pokémon Go sounds kind of scary."

I looked up from my game with brow hitched. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Alex and I sat at our favorite café. Her copy of Sapphire Version (her favorite game of them all) beeped in her hands; she cursed and thumbed in a few commands, grinning when the battle victory music played. My copy of Black 2 lay off and dark next to my plate of strawberry cake; I'd put the game away when my food arrived. Alex saved her game and set hers aside, too, digging into her own cake with gusto. Around us sat other people eating dinner or cake, but none of them carried DS devices like we did. Alex and I were alone in our Pokémon preference. For that reason we got together a lot to play our Pokémon games (because so few of our other friends played, too), and also to eat cake while we did it. I'm hard-pressed to say which part of our weekly get-togethers was my favorite, but I digress.

"I mean." Alex hefted a bite of cake. "In the Gameboy games, if you make eye contact, you have to battle, right?" she said around a mouthful of chocolate sponge.

I crossed my arms, leaning back in my chair to listen. "Right. And?"

"So when Pokémon Go comes out in a few months, if someone sees me from across the street, are they gonna run headlong into traffic to battle me?" She was mostly joking, grinning around her fork, but she adopted an air of sarcastic gravity to elaborate. "If I'm in a hurry, can I not back out? If I lose, do I have to Venmo them all my money?"

"I think the latest press release said battles are only going to be at, like, gyms or whatever."

"Nah." Another bite of cake; another grin. "I think we're gonna have mass pandemonium. Battling in the streets, on planes, between cars on our morning commutes." She tried to affect a solemn gaze and a tone like a droning lecturer, but a smile twitched at the corners of her mouth. "The world changed the day Pokémon Go came out, the historians will say. Mere eye contact was cause for a battle to the death."

"Cars crashed in pursuit of rare Pokémon," I added, adopting her solemn intonation, too. "Refusing battles is made illegal."

Alex nodded. "Nintendo became a political power the likes of which we've never seen."

"And you join a team, right?" I sat up straight and tried to look morose. "The rivalries between the teams start international wars and fights for dominance. Pokémon became an integral part of the political landscape."

"When the president joined Team Valor," Alex said, "decades-old alliances between countries crumbled overnight."

"And there were civilian casualties, of course, when an Articuno spawned in the White House and nerds defied the Secret Service in pursuit."

"And there, at the center of the chaos, stood Nintendo," said Alex. "Laughing. Reveling in the way they shaped the world."

"And rolling in the money they made, of course," I said.

She nodded. "That, too."

For a minute we held each other's gazes, playing up our faux-seriousness, but eventually neither of us could keep a straight face anymore. We burst into laughter and tucked back into our cake, eating in companionable, glowy silence. It was nice to have a nerd-buddy. Even in our mid-to-late-20s, we both loved to play the Pokémon games. We'd grown up with them, had met in college, and had quickly realized as we entered adulthood that not all of our former nerd-buds still loved Pokémon like we did. Hence our cake-meets. "Cakey-mon," as Alex sometimes called them, and then we'd talk about how they needed a cake-type-monster to complement Vanillite. You could put a Litwick on top of a cake-monster's head, get that good birthday symbiosis going…

Alex put down her fork. "In all seriousness, I don't know how people in the Pokémon world function, if mere eye contact signals intent to battle. Maybe I just wanna go to the store in peace, y'know?"

I put down my fork, too. "Concept: Walk around with sunglasses and try not to look like you own Pokémon."

"I bet there're infomercials for glasses like that in the Poké-verse," she said.

"Think there's a Poké-verse equivalent for Billy Mays?" I wondered.

"Damn, I hope so." She put a finger to her chin. "Say. Does the eye contact rule apply to kids?"

"I mean, in the games there are definitely children who—"

She clapped her hand to her mouth. "Oh god I just pictured random adults targeting random children with Pokémon to steal their lunch money."

I cackled. "Oh, you looked me in the eye, Little Timmy! Let's see your level three Pidgey take down my Charizard!" I slapped the table and let me hands fly skyward. "BOOM! Little Timmy's Pidgey is roasted and center stage on the Thanksgiving table." At that thought I winced. "Oof. Talk about trauma."

"Makes you wonder if lawyers make a lot in the Pokémon world," Alex said. "Sue for emotional damages and whatnot."

I said to Alex, "I pray we never find out."

We said "cheers" to that and continued to make jokes for the next hour, until our batteries wore down and we left the café to head home.

I'd told her I hoped neither of us ever learned the truth of battles triggered by eye contact in jest.

Neither of us could have possibly known my hopes were in vain, and that not too far in the future, I'd be finding out that truth firsthand.

As far as I could tell, there was no real use arguing with a trainer when they wanted to battle. Might as well just go along with it and spare yourself the effort of protestation, because if other trainers were anything like Joey, they'd summon a Pokémon into battle before your jaw could even finish dropping in surprise.

He didn't even let me acknowledge his request to battle before summoning a vivid purple Rattata to the field, he was so eager to get started. A flash of red light whipped out of his proffered Poké Ball and hit the ground with a burst of red sparks, and that was that—we were about to battle, if the fur rising along the Rattata's back and the low growl issuing from behind its buck teeth were any indication.

So maybe the games weren't entirely unrealistic, after all. Make eye contact, and you're doomed to a battle whether you like it or not.

Luckily Hibiki was rarin' to go. She gave a raucous chatter and clambered down the length of my body, claws pricking my skin through my clothes, before squaring up across from the Rattata. For a minute I considered recalling her and letting Hotaru take this, but when Hibiki rocked up onto her tail and let out a war cry, I reconsidered. Something told me Hibiki was much keener to battle Hotaru, anyway.

Hotaru.

At the thought of her, I looked down to find her crouched behind my boots, peering around them at the Rattata with eyes even more narrow than usual. "You OK, girl?" I murmured, but she just gave a quiet peep and a curt nod of her conical head. Hibiki looked over her shoulder at the sound and gave a little chirp in answer, one paw rising upward in a closed fist of declaration. Tension seemed to drain out of Hotaru at that; her haunches relaxed, and her head came up a little higher to watch the fight unfold.

"You ready, lady?" Joey said.

I tore my eyes from my Pokémon and nodded. "Sure."

His eyes gleamed—and then they drifted down, first to Hotaru and then to my leg. His eyes widened, the way most people's did when they saw it, but he just tugged his hat down low over his eyes and scowled.

"I won't go easy on you," Joey told me. "So gimme all you got, huh?"

I nodded. "Roger that."

Joey didn't need any further preparation. His hand rose into the air, one finger pointed at Hibiki. "Basket toss, Mickey!"

At the sound of that odd cry, the entirety of Team H froze in place.

Our opponents, however, did the opposite. At Joey's words, his Rattata—Mickey—darted forward and performed a flying leap. I thought he intended to strike Hibiki straight on, but his leap had aimed too high and instead he sailed right over her stunned head—and wait a minute, that wasn't a mistake at all, because mid-flight the Rattata ducked his head and did a neat aerial flip, on his spinning descent aiming his rear claws at Hibiki's back. They struck her dead on; she screeched and fell forward, flopping of off her tail and landing face down on the dirt. As the Rattata hit the dirt, sliding away from Hibiki with a skidding landing, Hibiki scrambled upright and spun, baring her teeth at Mickey with a shriek of indignation.

The Rattata, still recovering from its leap, had its back to Hibiki—and seeing an opportunity, I cupped my hands around my mouth. "Scratch it, Hibiki!" I said.

She chattered an affirmative and skittered forward, aiming her attack at Mickey's flank. It struck home; he staggered with a whine of pain, and even though I felt sorry for him, I couldn't help but flash a proud smile at Hibiki—but behind her, standing across from me on the other side of the gravel road, I saw Joey scowl.

He wasn't scowling at Hibiki or Mickey, though. He wasn't scowling at the battle or the players present in it.

He was scowling straight at me.

Not that he gave me much time to ponder that, why he aimed ire at me personally and not at the unfolding battle. No sooner had Hibiki finished swinging did he raise his hand again and declare, "Zigzag, Mickey!"

Mickey's round ears perked at the sound of his trainer's voice; he rallied, spinning in place before darting to Hibiki's right. She turned to intercept, but to my surprise (not to mention hers), he feinted back to her left and aimed another scratch at her. She only barely managed to dodge in time, using her tail to propel her backward across the ground and away from the pursuing Mickey.

"Scratch him again, Hibiki!" I said.

"Mickey, loop-the-loop!" said Joey.

Another of those odd commands, inexplicable and strange, but the Rattata knew exactly how to respond. It ran after Hibiki and then ran a complete circle around her, jumping up and kicking with his back legs to knock her completely off balance. When she hit the dirt, Mickey hit her again, scoring thin lines down her side with his wicked claws. She cried out in pain and curled her tail around herself for protection, body quivering as Mickey backed off and paced around her, as if looking for an opening to appear.

My heart clenched tight, if hearts are capable of such a thing, and just then it certainly felt like they were. Before I could even think to think about it, I hefted her Poké Ball and recalled her, cradling Hibiki's Ball in my hands after she vanished into its unseen depths. Joey grinned.

"Told ya I wouldn't go easy," he said. "Now c'mon. I know you've got another Pokémon or two to send out, dontcha?"

My teeth grit. "Hotaru," I muttered, and she trotted out from behind my feet without hesitation. The spots on her back had already flared hot red, the air above them rippling with visible waves of heat. If she'd been standing closer to my bio-leg and not my prosthetic, maybe I would've been burned.

Hotaru and I hadn't known one another for very long. But as gentle as she was, I sensed that that gentleness had its limits, and she was the type to head willingly into battle if it meant protecting her friends. Fear and pride alike warred inside my chest as I raised my hand and pointed at Mickey, whose curly tail waved and bobbed above his crouched back like a battle flag.

"Hotaru. Tackle him," I said through gritted teeth.

And so she did. She lunged forward toward Mickey and collided with him with a meaty thud—but before she even made contact, Joey had started to scowl.

Scowl at me again, I feel I should mention.

What was up with this kid, anyway? Hotaru hadn't even hit the damn Rattata yet!

Not that it mattered. Joey's scowl stayed in place as Mickey picked himself up off the ground and shook the dirt from his fur. "Mickey, hit 'er with a slider," he commanded.

Mickey reacted instantaneously. He ran at Hotaru and then started to backpedal, dropping to his hip in the dirt to slide straight at her like a baseball player sliding into home plate. His claws gleamed despite the dust he'd kicked up, and Hotaru managed to evade them with a quick side-step. I lifted a hand, started to call out to her to tackle the Rattata and stop its slide in its tracks—

The spots on her back deepened to the color of a ruby, and to my surprise, a thin geyser of orange flame erupted from each one. From her mouth shot a small salvo of sparks, embers streaking through the air toward the Rattata like fireflies in a dark forest. They hit Mickey's side and sent him sprawling with a shriek; Joey reacted before he could even hit the ground, raising Mickey's Poké Ball and recalling him in nearly the same motion.

There followed a moment of silence, cut only by the hiss of the fire emanating from Hotaru's back.

"Fine," Joey said after a moment. He drew himself up, arms crossing over his chest. "You win, I guess."

His poor sportsmanship had me glaring at him. I harrumphed and went to collect Hotaru, who I held tight to my chest with both hands. "That'll teach you to take other trainers by surprise," I told him, and then I turned a smile on my Pokémon. "Nice job, Hotaru. When did you learn to spit fire, anyway?"

She peeped and head-butted my chin. I cooed and scratched her cheek. Joey cleared his throat.

"You're new at this, aren't you?" he said.

His question—one that sounded way more like a factual statement than a true inquiry—struck me momentarily silent. I gaped, only after a minute able to stammer a confused, "Excuse me?"

"I'm saying you must be really, really new to this," he said. "I mean, it's pretty obvious."

My glare returned, more intense this time. "Big words coming from the kid who just lost to me."

But Joey merely laughed, head tossing so hard I feared he might lose his hat. "Oh, please. I didn't lose to you because you're a better trainer than me. I lost to you because you have stronger Pokémon than I do—and the fact that you're about to ask how those aren't the same thing proves my point."

My mouth shut with a clatter of teeth. I had, in fact, been about to ask him that precise question, but now I had no choice but to bite back my retort and swallow it. How had he known exactly what I was about to say, anyway? Could this, this twelve year old really divine so much about me after one battle?

"So tell me." Joey shifted his weight onto one foot, hip cocking out most cockily; he looked me up and down with clear derision, corner of his mouth hitching in a smirk. "Was this your first trainer battle, or what?"

My pride stung like it had been attacked by a swarm of bees. Beedrill. Whatever. "It's not my first battle, no," I snapped, trying and failing to sound cool—but when Joey looked utterly unconvinced, staring at me with eyes like a dead fish's, my shoulders sagged in defeat. "It's my second," I confessed with a grumble. "What of it?"

Joey grinned. "I knew it," he said. "And I'll bet you haven't watched too many battles, either, have you?"

Another correct assumption, darn this kid to heck and back. "My mom doesn't approve of television so we don't have one in the house," I said, but quickly so as not to belabor the point and give him more to make fun of. "How did you even guess all that?"

Joey scoffed. "What, it's not obvious?"

"Um. No. Enlighten me, please."

He scoffed some more. I wanted very much to punch him but I also didn't want to end up in Poké-jail, so I refrained. "Calling out attacks like you did? Rookie move," he said. "If you'd battled more than a few times, there's no way someone wouldn't have pointed that out to you by now."

I frowned. "But if you're not supposed to call out attacks, how are you…?" The truth hit me like a brick to the teeth. "Wait. Those weird things you kept saying," I said, replaying his weird-as-hell code words in my head. "Were those like… like a football play or something?"

Joey's brow knit. "What's football?"

Oh. Right. New world. All the sports were Pokémon-themed. Football no longer existed. Dammit. "Just a sport we play in my hometown," I said, hoping he wouldn't ask more questions. To that end I soldiered on, saying, "What I mean is a code. Those things you were saying are codes for certain types of attacks, right?"

That actually got him to smile; he tugged at his hat with a chuckle. "Heh. You catch on quick, I'll give you that. Looks like you're not totally hopeless, after all. And in that case…" He looked me up and down again, this time not even pausing when he glanced over my prosthetic. One hand shot into the air, a finger aimed in my direction as he grinned down the length of his short arm. "Well, lady, put on your walking shoes and follow me, because class is now in session!"

I stared at him and uttered a very eloquent, "Huh?"

Joey's hand dropped, but only so he could pound his fist into his other palm. "I'm going to give you a crash course on being an awesome trainer so you don't go and embarrass yourself again," he said. "Thank me later." And with that he trotted past, waving for me to follow in his wake. "Now c'mon, lady! We're wasting daylight and you've got a lot to learn!"

He didn't wait for me. He just jogged off, leaving me standing in the road with my mouth agape, Hotaru clutched to my chest like a little living heater. She gave a peep of confusion, but I could do nothing more than shake my head. This Joey kid was… odd. Not a bad dude, but definitely odd. First he'd insisted we battle, and now he wanted me to… what? Go to Youngster Joey's School for the Aspiring Pokémon Master?

A dozen yards away, Joey skidded to a halt. He turned and glared at me, hands resting on his hips. "You coming or not, lady?" he demanded. "Or do I gotta drag you back to town myself?"

"Oh, uh—coming!" I called back, and in spite of myself I started jogging after him.

It felt weird, following a kid like that, but at the same time, I got the sense that Joey, much the way he had charged headlong into battle, wasn't going to slow down until he'd done what he came to do—and in this moment, that was teach me every last thing he knew about Pokémon battles.

Something told me I still had quite a lot to learn, and that despite our age difference, Joey might have a thing or two to show me, after all.

NOTES

I know this is short; I intended it to be longer, but there has been a death in the family and this is all I can manage. I wrote this last week and figured it could stand on its own, so rather than skip a week… here we are. Sorry I didn't include another scene.

Was happy to have a flashback to my old life, finally. We'll get more of them, all related to Pokemon, as the fic progresses.

Many thanks to everyone who commented last week. Would love to hear from more of you with your thoughts. You're the best: 431101134, Guest, frankieu, C S Stars, and birdyful yellow!