Chapter Twenty One – The Girl from Goldenrod City
Joshua
"Wasn't the plaza beautiful tonight?" Eve said softly.
"Yeah, actually," Josh replied, lying awake in the top bunk. The thin Millennium Centre curtains let in rather more light from the street than he would like. "Lamentably, we don't have cheri trees in Mulberry Town."
"See! Dancing wasn't so bad then, was it?"
"You shush, you."
Eve went quiet for a moment. After a while she said, "Have you ever been in love?"
"In love?" Josh thought back to the warm, inconclusive mess that passed for his romantic life. "No. Nothing so intense. You?"
"Yeah. I was, once. Then he betrayed me."
The strange thing was, she didn't sound angry or bitter, just … hurt. He lay in thought for a while, trying to work out how to put into words what they both already knew.
"The ancients had two words for love," he said slowly. "Eros, romantic love, and philia, usually translated as companionship. When it came to Linda, or Adèle, I was always anxious." And always out of my depth. "I like this better," he said.
"Me too," Eve said quietly. "Tourney starts in six days!"
Josh said nothing, listening to Eve breathing as she lost interest in the conversation and drifted off to sleep. He wasn't feeling remotely enthusiastic about the Tourney. The two Unovans, the shortish one and the one in the scarlet blazer, were playing on his mind. In hindsight, it was idiotic of him to think that he'd be the only one scoping out the competition. Nevertheless, it was still unnerving – doubly so, if they weren't just scrutinising his pokémon.
Scoping out the competition … Josh rolled over and tried to turn a deaf ear to his conscience.
"You can't just ignore me, you know," his conscience said, and manifested in front of him. It looked very much like a six inch version of himself, with the discreet addition of a pair of feathered wings. He ignored Josh's cold look and casually spun his sceptre. It was silver, topped with a spherical white gem.
"Go away. You're just a metaphor," Josh told him. He rolled over, trying to turn a blind eye as well as a deaf ear. The shoulder-angel fluttered back into view.
"Hey, be glad I'm here," he said, waving his sceptre admonishingly. "If I weren'there you'd be a sociopath."
"Actually, if we weren't here, he'd be a sociopath," a disembodied voice said, which then embodied itself, incarnating untheatrically. "Am I late for the psychomachy?"
"Unfortunately not, Pheiton," the first shoulder-angel said testily. Against all reason, this second angel was a twin to the first, except instead of a sceptre he was leaning on a highly-polished sword.
"Hold on. Before we go any further, which one of you is supposed to be the evil one?" Josh said.
Pheiton gave him a jaded look. "You know it's not that simple."
"The hell it isn't!" the first angel persisted. "Josh, the Tigerlily Tourney is gender-exclusive for a reason."
"Forget principle, utilitarianism is king!"
"He said 'king'! You heard him, he said 'king', he's a royalist!"
"Fuck you, Jophiel!" Pheiton yelled.
"Remember all those girls at the dance," Jophiel said, "all excited about being in an all-girl tournament? Remember Whitney, excited about watching the Tigerlily Tourney? He'd be lying to them."
"No, no, let's get empirical!" Pheiton countered. "Who would be hurt by Josh entering?"
"I'm gonna hurt you!" Jophiel yelled, levelling his sceptre at Pheiton. The gem started to glow a pale blue.
"Oh, bring it on!" Pheiton roared, brandishing his blade, which burst into white flame.
"Enough!" Josh commanded. "Have you two idiots forgotten that the only reason I'm entering this damn Tourney is for Eve's sake?" Both angels opened their mouths simultaneously. "I said enough! I'm not arguing with a pair of damn metaphors, now go away."
They wisely decided to disincarnate in a couple of puffs of grey smoke. Josh closed his eyes but didn't sleep, kept awake by indecision. Without him, Eve couldn't enter the Tourney. It wasn't just about winning to her, it was a a matter of pride … and yes, possibly self-esteem.
Except all this will be irrelevant if I can't pass as a girl …
It was Wednesday morning, and the L-train rattled through the tunnel with a constant loud tak-tak tak-tak, tak-tak tak-tak. The L was bustling, as usual. Josh was nursing a bad mood. The stress and pace of life in Goldenrod was giving him daily headaches. It was getting on for 10:20 already – he was supposed to be meeting Eve at eleven.
"The next station is: The Underground. Please mind the gap between the train and the platform."
Josh stepped out onto the platform, and briefly contemplated driving a hobnailed boot into the instep of a salaryman who just barged him aside, fixated on his phone. The citizens of the Sunshine City didn't believe in hasty apologies, apparently. He hitched his seed canister further up his back; leaving it in the Centre just made him anxious, so he'd taken to carrying it around in a draw-string bag cannibalised from his sleeping bag. On the far side of the station was the archway through to the Underground. The sign above the arch read 'Goldenrod Underground: As Above, So Below'.
Finding a specific café in the Underground proved to be more difficult than he'd expected. The Underground was just over two miles long, north to south, with a multitude of branching alleys – it had an eclectic, slightly run down appearance. In places, the street was mainly illuminated by the light spilling from shop windows.
Josh found the café he was looking for on the south side of the street, in a patch of twilight created by a row of failing light panels. The façade was rather tasteful, with the name 'Holly's' painted by the door in neat copperplate script. A bell above the door gave a dignified tinkle as Josh entered. The interior had a restrained, polished aesthetic – handsome dark mahogany furnishings, elegant brass sconces on the walls, bookcases in one corner stacked with leather bound volumes. The waitresses' uniforms, too, were understated. One of them approached Josh as he glanced around the café looking for Eve, putting on a smile with practiced ease. She had on a cute little formal blouse, a short black skirt, and a ridiculously short red tie.
"Welcome, my lord," she said. "How was your journey?"
"What? Er, irritating," Josh said distractedly.
"Miss Joy will be arriving directly. Lisbeth, attend to the Earl of Mulberry."
A blonde waitress tugged gently at his arm. "Right this way, my lord. If it please you."
Josh couldn't help but wince at her deferential manner. There weren't many other customers in the café, just a few students and someone hidden behind a newspaper. He sat down, and drew out a book from his jacket.
Seedlings will appreciate warm conditions with plenty of access to light – Poké Ball acclimatisation should not be done before sunset. For the first few weeks, general health and well-being can be promoted through berry juice feedings (see below: Diet) -
"Coffee, my lord," Lisbeth said. Josh didn't notice her at first, immersed in seedling care. Until, in his peripheral vision, he spotted her going down to her knees.
"What on earth -" he started.
"Sugar for your coffee?" Lisbeth asked, adding three cubes of brown sugar anyway. She didn't get up.
"I'm used to stirring my own coffee," Josh said meaningfully.
"But I am your lief and loyal liege-girl!" she protested.
"That's as maybe, but – wait, lief?"
"Mmhm!" Lisbeth said innocently.
"Uhh …" Josh said, blushing at the implications. "I'd as lief stir my own coffee, thank you."
Lisbeth endeavoured to pull an adorably sulky face, but desisted.
Yellow apricorn juice is an excellent base for any supplement, encouraging general robustness during the critical first month. Roselia tend to dislike the sour taste – this can be balanced by any sweet fruit, but I recommend ripe petayas for building future tolerance to Bug-types -
"My lord, you're so tense!" a third waitress interrupted. Josh realised he'd been trying to massage his own shoulder. She gently moved his hand aside and took over.
"You know that's not, necessary," he said. Though that does feel rather nice … he stopped her hand in place. "Sorry, would you and your colleagues do me a favour? I'd like some space, please. Sorry, thank you."
He glanced at his Pokégear. Eve was late – that was a little suspicious. Hold on. Doubly suspicious, that the staff knew he was from Mulberry Town … that fellow with the newspaper hasn't turned a page.
"I knew it's you behind that," Josh said pointedly.
The newspaper flopped down, revealing Eve. She moved over to his table without saying anything, contriving to look annoyed when she obviously wanted to smile.
"I should have known you were behind this."
"Maybe."
"Eevee, why did you do this," he said, trying to keep his tone as light as possible.
"I wanted to do something nice. As a thank you for the Tourney. Is that ok?" Eve said anxiously.
"Eevee, I appreciate it, I really do, but …" he paused and laughed weakly, wondering if Eve would understand. "I come from a family that tends to take orders in their work. All this servility, I just … feel like a class traitor, you know?"
"Well … alright then," Eve said, visibly disappointed but smiling anyway. She sighed heavily. "So … how's it going?"
Josh altered his posture, sitting more upright, bringing his knees together. He switched to his feminine voice, saying: "I think I've got the voice down."
"Say something else like that," Eve said, giving him a thoughtful look. Josh waved his hand in an 'I don't know' gesture.
"From the mouths of the Sea the south wind flies, from the sandhills and the stones,
The wailing of the gulls it bears, and at the gate it moans."
"Hmm ..." she said. "You are a good mimic."
"Thank you," Josh said dutifully, "but I'll still speak as little as possible, anyway. To that end, I've devised a simple battle sign language to avoid calling orders too much."
"It does help that pokémon trainers are an odd lot," Eve commented. It was something they'd discussed before. Pokémon trainers tended to be individualistic, sometimes to the point of flat-out eccentric. In theory therefore, Josh's own apparent oddness brought on by the pretence shouldn't stand out so much.
"I see you're taking care of your hands," Eve said. "I like the clear nail polish."
"I quite like the moisturising, I'll admit," Josh replied. "I used to have to moisturise a lot when I was marathon-making Metal Earth. You have no idea what copper dust can do to your hands."
Eve leaned forward, an iniquitous smirk on her face. "Are you looking forward to the make-up?"
"No."
"We'll keep it subtle!" Eve said, looking at his face as if it were a new piece of timber. "A bit of mascara, a nice light shade of lipstick …"
Her face was at once sunnily enthusiastic and mischievous. "You know there's only so much we can do in the time we have before the Tourney," Josh said.
"We've got five days to practice," Eve giggled and winked at him. "I'll make a girl out of you yet."
'Eclectic' was an apt way to describe the Underground. The street was jammed full of independent, quirky, specialist stores. Among the second-hand book stores, claustrophobic newsagents and coffee shops were specialist fashion boutiques and small-scale eateries. The denizens of the Underground were often just as quirky. Girls in their dojo uniforms roamed the street looking for battles; would-be delinquents lurked in side-alleys. A furlong down from Holly's, the street was narrowed by the press of the berry market. Just beyond that, in a small square, was the coordinator's market. For some reason, Eve paused to browse through Poké Ball Seals. At the edge of the square, a young man in a black beret was reciting poetry.
"Radiant cool, crazy nightmares -"
"What are you thinking, Eevee?" Josh asked.
"A million delicate threads,
On the pillows of a celibate bed -"
"Don't know yet," Eve said, idly inspecting a pack of star Seals. "Just the wheatgerm of an idea."
"A brilliantly desolate spread,
Another widow goes … where etiquette led."
"Smoke and fire!" Josh cursed. "He calls that poetry?"
"Who?" Eve followed his line of sight. "Hey, that's what we were looking for!" she exclaimed, pointing out a store behind the 'poet'.
The storefront read 'Modern Vintage: Discount fashions'. Most of the floorspace and about half of the wall space was taken up by racks of garments. Josh looked around at all the girl's clothes apprehensively. He really hadn't been looking forward to this. Eve looked around cheerfully with a thoughtful "Hmm …"
"Dresses or skirts," Josh reminded her unenthusiastically.
"Gotta hide those bulges, right?" Eve giggled, browsing through the racks. "Aha!" she said, producing a pleated skirt with a flourish. "Navy blue, nice and inconspicuous."
"Nice and short," Josh pointed out.
Eve gave the skirt a brief look. "Fine!" she said petulantly.
"It needs to be something more like, er, this," he said, selecting a rather longer skirt patterned in green tartan.
"Do you want to look like a schoolgirl?"
Josh suppressed a sigh. I'm supposed to look convincing, not bloody fashionable, he thought irritably, screwing his eyes shut for a few seconds – before quickly darting behind a carousel of dresses. He warily leaned round his cover, so he could surreptitiously see out into the street.
A couple of the girls walking by were frustratingly familiar – Casey, again, and the raichu trainer. Neither were looking in his direction, fortunately. From this distance, he could catch some of their conversation.
"I can't believe we had to, like, trek this far for that belt," Casey said.
"Think I saw an Eviolite back there. You could use that for your aron."
"Screw it, Morgan, let's go to Caligeri's."
"What the hell, boy scout, you just disappeared," Eve complained.
"Tigerlilies in the Underground," Josh explained sotto voce. "Can't be seen buying the clothes I'll be wearing at the Tourney."
"Now that they're gone can we get back to buying clothes, then?"
"Yeah, fine," he said, watching them walk away.
"Awesome, because you're going to look so cute in this blouse."
Josh sighed, but quietly. He wished Eve would be less enthusiastic about it. She seemed to be enjoying the chance to dress him up. Admittedly, she was staying within the parameters of their own design brief, more or less. The key, according to everything they'd read, was to use subtle feminine cues to telegraph 'girl'. Ah, I'm not being fair. She might be having fun, but she was also taking it seriously, no half measures.
"Oh, how about this?" Eve said, pointing something out. It was a beige-coloured sweater dress, long sleeved with a high turtle neck. The garment was probably designed for a taller woman - on Josh it looked like it would be between thigh- and knee-length. "Paired with some jeans," Eve continued. "Tight enough to show your curves, long enough to hide everything else?"
"Hmm." We might get away with that. He inspected the price tag out of habit. "Buy one get one half price."
"Oh," Eve said, mildly surprised, "might as well get two."
"I'm going to let you get those, then," he said, starting to make his way out the store.
"Wait, wait, what size?"
"Small! It's always small."
Josh leaned against the wall outside to wait. I reckon I could deal with that dress. There was a craft shop opposite, a hardware store fifty yards down from that. He wondered whether Metal Earth would have been more profitable with access to Underground suppliers.
"So where next, Madame Chanel?" Josh asked Eve when she reappeared.
"Accessories!" Eve declared brightly. "You're going to be prettier than me when I've finished."
"You always were ambitious," he said drily.
They strolled off northwards, wending their way through the crowds. The afternoon was bringing more shoppers into the Underground, obliging them to walk much closer together. Eve insisted on browsing Pokégears at a trainer tech store.
"The Voyager would be great for you," she said. "It's just as hard-wearing as your Landranger, but, you know, better."
"Oh I don't deny it. Still couldn't afford the mobile internet subscription."
Josh swung his seed canister round to his chest, to keep it from being bumped by passers-by. He quite liked Eve being this close. He liked her familiar scent in this annoying city. Slowly, without quite knowing why, he reached over and gently took her hand. Immediately, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, Eve laced her fingers through his.
"Come on," she said, towing him away. "We've got to get you a bag, at least."
Eve was right: the Underground was a good place to hunt for bargains. They'd found a hodge-podge of accessory stalls in a side-alley, just past the red and gold frontage of a Dharmic temple. Eve was haggling over the price of a bag – a small satchel, nicely practical, its sides lined with Poké Ball clasps.
Josh was less sure about the hats, though. Eve picked up a dark blue bowler, spun it and tried it on. "How do I look?"
Adorable. "Absurd."
"Hmm … you need something different, though."
Josh inexpertly tucked his hair back behind his ears. At nigh-on two months since his last haircut, it was currently an androgynous mass of chin-length curls - not cutting it on arrival in Goldenrod was a deliberate decision on his part, to avoid faffing around with wigs. It was just as well his hair grew quickly, something he never expected to be grateful for.
Just then, his Pokégear started to ring from his wrist. Josh glanced at the caller ID and promptly silenced it. "Don't need that right now."
"Your dad was calling again, huh," Eve said. She picked up a white cloche hat, its bell-shape bedashed in pink floral designs.
"Possibly," Josh replied shortly. "The less he knows about the Tourney, the better."
Eve said nothing, turning the cloche over in her hands and looking at the tag unconvincingly. "You can say it," Josh said.
"Where does the, friction, come from? Between you and your dad," she said hesitantly.
"Well … Dad likes – insists on things being done his way. And his advice sounds an awful lot like instructions."
Eve gave him another of her thoughtful looks. She abruptly jammed the hat onto his head. "We'll need to get your hair done," she said, playing with the curls behind his ear.
Josh yawned at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. It had been a long afternoon, and a shower had gone a long way towards scrubbing off the stress of the city. Would that I were in the Heartwoods right now.
"Hey, take your time with this!" Eve called through the door. "You need to shave as close as you can!"
"Eve! I at least know how to shave!"
A quiet shave with a fresh razor ought to be more relaxing than a damn uncomfortable massage. He supposed the afternoon could have been worse. The Underground was very much a place for misfits, subcultures and assorted square pegs. In that context, a young man going into a hairdresser's for a distinctly feminine haircut wasn't all that unusual. And since I am a square peg …
He paused his shaving to consider his new haircut. The best time to assess it wasn't while pulling shaving faces, admittedly, but he had his doubts. His stubborn curls had been relaxed into a shoulder-length cascade of fierce waves that constantly threatened to tighten up into ringlets. Rather worryingly, the hairdresser had managed to find more than one grey strand hiding amongst the black. Actually … the waves are kind of cute.
Josh took his time finishing his shave, ignoring the sounds of Eve's impatience from the main room. Afterwards, he turned his attention to the jeans hanging from the peg on the door. Girl's jeans, no surprise, but otherwise unremarkable. They felt awkwardly tight, though, compared to his own jeans.
"Alright, I'm decent," Josh said, unlocking the bathroom door. "There's not enough room for me in these," he complained.
Eve gave the jeans a critical look. "The bulge is more noticeable than I'd like," she said.
"I don't know whether to be pleased about that," he said drily, firmly pushing her chin up and her gaze away from his bulge.
"Oh! Guess what arrived today," Eve said. She beckoned him over to her bunk – there was a cardboard box on the end. "Behold. Your new tits."
His 'new tits' turned out to be a bra, pre-filled as it were, with a pair of foam breast forms. "Are you sure about the size?" he said doubtfully.
"Hey, they have to be big enough to be noticed. Besides, you'll only be a bit bigger than me."
Josh made a noise somewhere between a sigh and a groan. "Alright, pass 'em here."
He turned the whole apparatus over in his hands quizzically. The foam forms were ensconced within a soft cotton covering – Josh was faintly amused to see that Eve had fixed them into the bra with a neat surgical suture.
"They ought to be a modest C on your chest," Eve commented.
"I'm positive they can't just be made of foam."
"I bought the weighted kind," Eve explained. "So they'll feel slightly more lifelike on your chest. The heft is pretty lifelike."
"I'll take your word for it," he said, trying not to sound too glum.
"Come on, let's get this fitted."
Reluctantly, Josh slipped the thing onto his shoulders, rather grateful that for once Eve wasn't making this more awkward. I'm never going to get used these, he thought, as Eve adjusted the straps with a series of deft tugs.
"I really appreciate this sweetling."
"Yeah, I know," Josh said in his feminine voice.
"Do you want to leave it a bit longer?"
"No. No, let's do this," he said, arching his back in discomfort. "No point in waiting."
A very modest crowd of spectators had gathered around the Club battlefield to watch the imminent match. The westering sun threw long shadows across the dirt, but there was a chill in the air. Josh stepped up to the trainer's box, heart fluttering like a panicking butterfree. His jeans felt too tight, the weight of the breast forms on his chest strange. The irrational feeling that every single spectator was scrutinising him dominated his thoughts – despite the fact that about half of them were obviously paying no especial attention to himself, or his opponent.
Indomitable as a glacier. Lorelei never let herself get intimidated by a crowd, and neither would he. Josh looked across the field to his opponent in the opposite trainer's box, a teenager in a grubby hoodie with a nimbus of cigarette smoke twirling lazily around his head.
The Club referee cleared his throat loudly. "Attention please! This Club Battle between Isaac Edelson of Violet City, and Melissa Evans of Marion Town is about to begin! Each trainer may use three pokémon and both may substitute freely! Begin!"
They released their pokémon simultaneously – Josh said nothing as he selected Fionn's Love Ball. She immediately phased out-and-in so she could see both her trainer and her opponent.
"Rock on, Axel!" Isaac said, throwing a Premier Ball underarm. Axel was a dinosaurian pokémon with stony scales and a ruff of primitive feathers at the back of its neck. Its oblong head was huge, the size of its entire body, and most of that was jaw. A physical attacker, or I'm a mankey's uncle.
Josh signed some orders – arms crossed saltirewise, diagonal slash up and left, down and right, up and left again. Defensively, Psywave, Will O' Wisp, Psywave.
Fionn pretended to turn away from Axel, then sharply spun back, battering it with a wave of bluish energy rings. Axel let out a nasal cry of pain and narrowly scampered away from the ethereal Will O' Wisp.
"Rock Polish, dude!" Axel started to speed up, dodging and jinking around the Psywaves. Josh let Fionn have her fun.
"Ah, screw it!" Isaac spat, throwing his cigarette on the ground. "Roar it out!"
Axel opened its huge mouth wide and howled. Fionn's shriek of surprise was abruptly cut off – in the blink of an eye she dematerialised into a red blur and flew back to her Ball as if blown by a gale. Ivysaur's Poké Ball leapt off its clasp and burst open. Josh found himself wavering, reluctant to call any orders but unable to get an immediate line of sight with Ivysaur either.
"Haha, got you dude!" Isaac catcalled. "Axel, Ice Fang."
Condensation poured from Axel's mouth as it charged Ivysaur, head held low. Ivysaur didn't wait for instructions and attacked with his Vine Whips – his adversary dodged a couple of blows, but he was too practiced at the move. He seized Axel by the shins, using its own momentum to drag it off its feet. Reinforcing his grip with all four vines, Ivysaur threw it across the field for good measure.
Damnit. Now or never. Concentrate, voice up and - "Nature Power," Josh ordered as Melissa.
The ground beneath Axel's clawed feet erupted in a fountain of earth and gravel. There was a flash of fire within the heart of the detonation – Axel's cry of rage cut through the thump and rattle of earth falling back onto the battlefield. What made Josh breathe a small sigh of relief, however, was a remark from a spectator.
"Hey, she's pretty good."