Chapter X: The Master

Seven centuries prior to the present two legends inspired hope. The people of Johto constructed two nine-tier towers to honor them. These towers represented friendship and harmony, connecting the worlds of people and Pokémon.

The historical city of Ecruteak was chosen to house Lugia, Guardian of the Seas, and Ho-Oh, Guardian of the Skies. Brass Tower in the city's northwestern corner was home to the deep-sea guardian. Bell Tower to the east was home to the sky guardian. The winged legends perched in the city for many decades, and peace was born.

Each bird exercised their exceptional power by overseeing their respective Legendary Pokémon trios. Lugia and Ho-Oh earned the title of trio master, keeping less dominant species in check, thus upholding the truce between Pokémon and humans. Lugia calmed disputes among Kanto's three Legendary birds: Articuno, bird of ice; Zapdos, bird of lightning; and Moltres, bird of fire. However, it was not until some 150 years ago that Ho-Oh became a trio master.

One day, while Lugia and Ho-Oh were away from Ecruteak, a tragedy incited. Legend had it that during a frightful thunderstorm a bolt of lightning struck the top of Brass Tower. A raging fire ensued, incinerating the once-beautiful high-rise. On the tower's floor were three unnamed Pokémon trapped and afraid. Rubble and flame overwhelmed the creatures as they perished by nature's hand.

Lugia returned to Ecruteak only to find that its perch had been burned to the ground. Unsure of the fire's origin, the deep-sea guardian dispelled its trust of humans and fled into an underwater exile.

Ho-Oh returned as well. Compassion for the slain victims overcame the Rainbow Pokémon. It resurrected the three Pokémon using its mythical power dubbed Sacred Fire by the people of Johto. The trio were given new life and reborn with the names: Raikou, the Thunder Pokémon; Entei, the Volcano Pokémon; and Suicune, the Aurora Pokémon.

These gifted beasts were said to symbolize the three natural events of that day: the lightning which struck the tower, the fire which burned it down, and the rain which quenched the flames. Those who experienced their resurrection feared for their lives, and the trio ran off like the wind into Johto's grassy plains.

After bringing the beasts back to life, Ho-Oh left Ecruteak City in search of a Trainer whose heart was free of hatred.

Of the three beasts reborn, the Aurora Pokémon interacted with humans the most. Raikou and Entei chose reclusive lifestyles away from any and all human contact. They believed humans saw them as nothing more than monsters, but Suicune viewed them differently.

Although it did not wish to live inside a Poké Ball, Suicune saw the good in human behavior. It beheld both sides of the spectrum: the virtuous bond they share with their Pokémon and the viral disease that is their culture of greed. The Aurora Pokémon vowed to learn as much about the humans as inherently possible to carry out the hopeful legacy of the gracious bird which restored its life force.

Knowing of Suicune's great influence among the Pokémon community (for its courageous heart and swift conflict resolutions), Siegfried scheduled a meeting. With the help of his Mythical Pokémon allies, the cynic pitched his idea of world peace to the Aurora Pokémon. It listened with an open mind.

Siegfried unveiled the corruptions designed by the powers that be. He picked them apart piece by piece – the lies, the deceptions and the cover-ups. The cynic warned that if something drastic was not done soon human beings would be living to die rather than to make the world a better place for all life forms. He claimed that Pokémon were Earth's last sliver of hope, that without humans the planet would thrive once again.

Suicune looked into the heart of Siegfried and found a desire for martyrdom. This startled the beast. It needed time to decide its allegiance. So it embarked on a voyage to discover the validity of Siegfried's claims.

It visited the island prisons, observing the hearts of those inside. Some were wicked, but more were misguided. With the aid of Lugia, the beast saw into the minds of the world's elite. It bore witness to their underhanded schemes for ultimate control. Suicune's final test rested upon the shoulders of the future generation. The Aurora Pokémon sensed their hearts were blocked by narcissism and a lack of discipline and compassion for others.

Suicune travelled the lands of Johto, Kanto, Hoenn, Sinnoh, Unova, Kalos and Alola – all seven regions of the world (known at the time). For weeks it searched for a youth to mentor. Yet by springtime the beast fell short. Perhaps this explained Ho-Oh's extended absence. Before making its decision, Suicune climbed Bell Tower, letting out a cry for help.

With a tender heart the bird accepted its disciple's call. "Is there no one – man, woman, or child – who is worthy of your blessing?" asked the beast in its native tongue.

The greatest bird of all, multi-colored gold sparkling from its feathers, replied, "All are worthy of my blessing, beloved Suicune. But none walk the path of purity. I honor your courage with my presence this last time. Until that day comes, Godspeed."

Suicune arrived at the notion that Siegfried's vision was destined to come to pass. One chilly spring night, the Aurora Pokémon sent for the Team Rocket Leader. Accompanied once more by his Mythical allies, Siegfried asked for Suicune's assistance not only in recruiting other Legendary Pokémon to join his cause but also to fight alongside him in battle. The beast reflected on its past involving humans.

Proof of mankind's good will lived as fact. But facts, it concluded, meant little without appropriate action. Despite having sympathy for the human race, Suicune agreed to assist the cynic. The beast believed humanity's contribution to the planet had become counterintuitive. Therefore, in its eyes, human purity was unreachable. Raikou and Entei congratulated Suicune on a decision well made.

"I have tracked you down to seek your approval," the beast said to the clone.

Standing before Mewtwo, atop the waters of Johto's Lake of Rage, was Suicune in all of its crystalline majesty. White diamonds patterned its light blue fur. Two thin streamer-like tails waved on either side of the four-legged creature. Behind a large cerulean-blue crest on Suicune's head was a flowing purple mane which resembled magnificent terrestrial lights. Although Mewtwo's glare struck fear, the beast's white face and red eyes endured.

The Genetic Pokémon thought about its next words carefully, for it registered the beast as a mouthy messenger. It straightened its posture and glared some more, addressing the Aurora Pokémon soon after. "How can you align yourself with such evil?" asked Mewtwo.

Suicune lowered its head east as if it were torn between ideologies. It remained uncertain about its decision to coincide with Siegfried's morbid master plan. If it rejected his offer it chanced being hunted by the cynic's Mythical companions. This ultimatum was hidden in speech yet understood in aura.

The Legendary Pokémon traded thoughts. Suicune made its case.

"Temporary evil in exchange for greater good is a compromise I am willing to make," said the beast.

"Evil is evil," Mewtwo stated. "You have never tasted its nectar, and therefore do not know its consequences."

"I have sight of the human's future footprint. My master has searched the ends of the earth with empty results for one who is pure of heart. What would you have me do?"

"Resist. Team Rocket has an obsession of destruction. They will not bring peace to Earth."

"You must choose your allegiance."

"And if I refuse?"

"You will be hunted and auctioned to perform at Siegfried's grand finale tournament."

"Why?"

"All Legendary Pokémon must be collected and shared to ensure the world watches. I have come to persuade you."

"No, you have come to threaten me. My allegiance lies with no one."

"Your actions say otherwise."

"Watch your words, beast."

"Forgive me, Supreme One. You would defeat me alone in battle, this I know. However, my ally knows your heart."

"I can assure you this Siegfried you speak of does not know of my existence."

"You are mistaken, Mewtwo."

"How do you know my name?"

". . ."

"Your master is mistaken, Suicune. I have found a selfless Trainer. He will put an end to all this."

"Betraying my ally is not beneath me. Defeat us in battle, prove to me this Trainer is pure, and I will help you save them. Do you accept?"

"The next time you see me, you will know my true power."

There one moment and gone the next, the Aurora Pokémon galloped across the Lake of Rage, embodying a swift wind. Mewtwo treasured the day's last bit of twilight. The beast's words glued to its mind. Is Damion impure? Mewtwo thought. It saw a vision of hope in his eyes at their first meeting. Suicune's master, it deduced, enjoyed a life of solitude.

More was at stake than the Genetic Pokémon realized. Paying Damion back for rescuing it was just the beginning. A human saved its life. In turn, the clone found its purpose in restoring faith in humanity.

Damion lie in slumber with his loving companions huddled at his side. Mewtwo guarded them until its eyes caved into closure. Its energy supply sputtered at an irregular pace. The clone rested shoulder to shoulder with the boy, succumbing to the night's incumbent charm.

This night went dreamless. Neither the boy nor the clone paid attention to their subconscious. One was deflecting problems, the other was resolving them. They both aimed to awaken with renewed drive.

Mewtwo slept past sunrise for a second time. The forest breathed quietly. Few Pokémon nested this far north. Damion's rustling and Bag zipping overrode the Psychic-type's sleep cycle. Its eyes squinted and fluttered awake. The boy turned his gaze over his shoulder, greeting his rescuer with silence. He thanked Mewtwo formally whilst tying his shoelaces.

"Hey. Thanks, again," the Trainer said. "Not sure how I'm supposed to repay you."

"Consider us even, friend."

"Yeah, alright."

"It is good to see you again. I wondered what you may have been doing. I am sorry if my portal brought you any harm."

"It's not your fault I ended up in that well; it's mine. Everything that's happened is my fault and my fault alone."

"What do you mean by everything?"

Damion double-checked his pockets and recounted the Items in his Trainer Bag. Once satisfied, the boy slung his Bag across his body and walked south towards the Lake of Rage.

But the clone stopped him in his tracks. Mewtwo sensed a change in its friend's demeanor. It was colder, broken even, as if he had forgotten how to feel. Looking in his eyes, there was no hope. Regret and fear took its place. Mewtwo asked where the boy was going.

"Home," he replied. "Come if you want." The clone did not wish to treat him like a child. That would only build resentment, it presumed. Regardless, it proceeded to probe.

"What did you mean before, about everything being your fault?"

"What's it to you?"

"We are friends, are we not? I want to help."

"You can't help me, Mewtwo. My journey is over."

The clone's eyes tightened. This Trainer reminded it of another it once knew. In his mind sorrow replayed in a loop. Mewtwo saw an image of the boy's mission failure. It brought horror to the Psychic-type's heart. An ambitious force carried Damion at first sight, though a dissimilar spirit made substitution this day. Mewtwo longed to share the same space with the one it called friend. Yet, as with its previous platonic attempts, friendship slipped through its grasp again.

"Who did this to you?"

"Who tied me up and hung me to dry? Take a guess."

". . . Team R –"

"Yeah. Team Rocket. Siegfried, he knows everything – about my mission, about our meeting, about your existence: everything."

"That cannot be. He is just a man."

"He's more than just a man, Mewtwo. He's an idea – an idea intoxicating enough to lure powerful Pokémon in to help him. I'm… I was in way over my head. Thinking I could take on an entire band of criminals alone was arrogant of me."

"Do not blame yourself, young Trainer. You are not alone."

"Who else is there to blame, huh? An innocent girl is dead because of me!"

"How do you know that is true?"

"Because he said it, Mewtwo. He told me he did it, and then laughed in my face."

"And you believed him?"

"Don't you get it? I failed. I'm a failure!"

"Failure only defines those who indulge it."

"I don't need a guru right now."

"What do you need?"

"I need to go home."

"Why?"

"Look, man: I'm through, finished. Everyone I get close to leaves before I can say goodbye. I thought being a Pokémon Trainer meant I was responsible for helping others in need. Now I see that was pointless. It's time I go back to focusing on myself."

"I am no man. As your friend, I say we must enter Siegfried's tournament and discover his tactics before time runs out."

"How did you know about the tournament? If you're going to pry information of out my head, then why are we even having a conversation?"

"We will defeat him, Damion."

"We aren't doing anything. I told you I'm going home."

Low tides meant Trainers could travel on foot across the west end of the Lake of Rage into Route 43 behind Mahogany Town. Damion stopped by the town's Pokémon Center to rest his pals. During Nurse Joy-Goldstein's healing procedure, the boy looked to sell some Items for cash.

Since Mahogany had no PokéMart, he settled for its offbeat souvenir shop next door. Inside were a friendly older woman and an even friendlier younger woman, who seemed to be her kin. Damion disengaged from small talk, leaving a bitter air in his wake. Mewtwo hovered behind him invisible to the naked eye.

After retrieving his pals' Poké Balls from the Center, Damion carried on east towards Route 44 and the Ice Path, which connected the town of Mahogany and the city of Blackthorn. For an unprepared Trainer, the Ice Path did not bode well. Its frigid climate and grueling maze puzzles left some challengers in critical condition.

However, Damion's father revealed the cave's secrets to him many years ago. As a result, the boy traversed the icy floors in a timely manner like he had done numerous times before. Blackthorn's prince returned.

The city was coined "A Quiet Mountain Retreat" decades prior. Though since Clair's Dragon Tamer Academy was built, Blackthorn had been anything but quiet. Damion's parents and the rest of the Dragon Clan governed the city with discipline and honor. Clair followed their lead until that fateful fifteenth of May.

The elders of the Dragon Clan made a home in the Dragon's Den beneath the city's surface. A small lake filled with rare Dragon-type Pokémon attracted more visitors every year. As the Harrisons took rest following the radio wave incident, so did the ideals of the once-sacred Dragon Clan.

Stacked chatter drilled into Damion's sore head. Children from every region around the world played, laughed and partook in friendly Pokémon battles. Young locals idolized Damion – so cool; so calm; so collected. His swagger resembled that of a Pokémon Master, though he had not one Badge to show for it. Damion's peers loathed his arrogance yet were unable to defeat him on the battlefield.

Thoughts of rage and guilt flurried about the young Trainer's mind on his trek through the Ice Path and into his hometown. Mewtwo saw his intent. This rage burned like lava, destroying everything in its course.

Damion stepped foot into Blackthorn's open central area. An impressionable child broke away from his friends to say hello to him.

"Hey! Damion!" yelled the child. He took a quick, deep breath and ceased his stride.

"Hello," said Damion unenthusiastically. The child pulled on the straps of his backpack and chit-chatted to his heart's desire.

"What's up, dude? Do you remember me? Do you remember my name?"

"Yes. I remember you, Zachariah."

"Oh, sweet! That's awesome, man. Hey, what happened? I thought you weren't supposed to be back for a long time."

"Where did you hear that from?"

"People."

"What people?"

"I dunno. Everybody. A lot of us we go and ask Clair what you're up to! Last time she told us you were in Azalea Town talking to Kurt! That's super cool, Damion. What's Kurt like? Is he nice?"

"Clair. . . Look, Zachariah, I can't talk right now. Maybe some other time, okay?"

"Wait, wait! Don't go yet! I-I wanted to show you what me and my Dratini can do. Here, look, this'll just take one second. Damion, are you watching?"

The hyper boy fumbled his Poké Ball in his hands and released his tiny Dragon Pokémon. It reminded Damion of better days. Zachariah pulled out a medium-sized bamboo basket from his backpack in which his Dratini entered. Dratini slowly danced out of the basket with the lid on its head while Zachariah danced and pretended to play the PokéFlute. Although this pit stop vexed the Trainer, it was a cute performance.

"Bravo," said Damion with a smile. "I must be going now. It was good chatting with you, Zachariah." The child waved goodbye, pouting with subtlety. Clair's house was up ahead. Contrary to her persona, Clair's home was rather conservative. It was considered an act of greed to build an extravagant residence within the limits of Blackthorn.

He walked directly there with his head down. The front door was locked. He retrieved his key ring from his Bag's side pouch and opened the door.

Clair sat at the head of her expansive, queen-like table with a lavish wood finish where she ate every meal and held monthly city council meetings. She set her book and reading glasses down, emitting a closed smile. Welcoming Damion home, she offered to cook him breakfast. Damion accepted and sat in the chair closest to hers. She patted his head on her way to the kitchen.

"Good to see you, dear."

The aware Gym Leader picked up on the boy's despondent conduct as she prepared a healthy meal. His responses to her cordial questions were short but not sweet. To draw attention elsewhere, Damion released Umbreon and Haunter from their Poké Balls.

They greeted Clair with glee. Umbreon rubbed and purred against her legs while she diced peppers. Haunter hovered around her shoulders, fiddling with her stirring and whisking motions. Clair laughed and played along with them.

Damion sat in silence. He stared into his reflection on the glossy tabletop. A steamy plate full of pepper-cheese scrambled eggs, spicy soybean patties and assorted fruits overlaid his alternate reality. Clair poured the boy a glass of ice-cold water and placed it next to his plate. She knew he disliked questions while he ate. Eating and talking were polar opposites, he claimed. Honoring his quirk, Clair rambled on about her cousin Lance who happened to be in town.

Lance came back to speak with their grandfather who lived in the city's famed Dragon's Den to the north. He was assigned the duty of patriarch and head elder of the Dragon Clan many, many years ago. Simply known as The Master, Clair and Lance's grandfather regularly supplied those who were troubled with sound advice and guidance. Clair checked on him more times per day as he grew older. Lance visited when he had the time.

Technically, Lance might be considered Damion's god-uncle. However, the two rarely shared the same space. Damion never wanted to know him. Lance never seemed to care. They exclusively spoke of popular or famous Pokémon battles when in the same room.

"You should go and visit with Poppa down in the Dragon's Den," Clair suggested. Damion finished his last piece of fruit and excused himself from the table.

"I'm not going down there," said Damion, washing his plate in the kitchen sink. Clair stood between the two rooms. She leaned against the wooden frame with her arms crossed.

"Is everything okay?" she asked with concern. "How were the eggs? Not too spicy, I hope."

"They were good," he replied. "Everything was great. Thank you."

"Good, good. . . Tell me, Damion: What brings you home so soon? I didn't expect you back for at least another month."

"I. . . Things got a little out of hand. I just needed to come home for a bit."

"I understand if you don't want to go down to the Den. It's your choice."

"I know it is."

"But Poppa would love to see you, dear. It's been a while since he last saw you."

"Yeah. I get it. I'll go down there once Lance leaves."

"Okay, thank you. You don't want to kill two birds with one stone?"

"Do I want to talk to Lance while I'm down there? No, I don't actually."

"What is it with you two? He's family, you know."

"He's your family, not mine. I don't fraternize with cowards."

"Be respectful, Damion. Lance is anything but a coward. He is our Champion!"

"How often does he call? How often does he come see you? Lance isn't the man everyone thinks he is. What do you know about the real Lance? He and I don't talk, but I know plenty. He is a coward in a cape, hiding behind an unopposed life of luxury."

"How can you say those things? I wear a cape too, you know. I will not tolerate this kind of attitude in my house. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Clair, it's clear."

"Alright then. Lance is a good man. Maybe if you got to know him you'd see that."

A gust of wind forced Clair's front door to squeak. In the doorway stood Lance, his cape's crimson bottom half flapping behind him.

"I couldn't help but overhear you," Lance said. "Did I hear you correctly, Damion? You think I'm a coward." The Blackthorn men stepped face to face. With furrowed brows Damion stared at him. The Dragon Master's look was cool and steady. Neither was known to back down from a challenge. Clair held the back of her neck.

Damion moved his hands together in a here-and-there motion while criticizing his elder.

"You see," he began, "there's thinking someone is a coward, and then there's knowing someone is a coward. I know for a fact, Lance, that you are a coward."

"Clair, tell your boy he needs a lesson in respecting his elders," said the Champion.

"I belong to no one! This is between you and me."

"The only thing between you and I is a lifetime's worth of success. Who are you to cast judgment on me? What have you done? You have no Badges. You have no professional championships. What class of Trainer are you?"

"There is more to life than things, Lance. I may not have any of that, but what I do have is dignity. Can't say the same for you."

"What you have is quite some nerve, calling me a fraud. I am the greatest Pokémon Trainer alive. You are nothing! Therefore your words mean nothing."

"You aren't the greatest Trainer in the world! You've been beaten – more than once!"

"Says who?!"

"I have proof!"

"Lies!"

Clair rushed to break up their shouting match. Nevertheless, she was stopped before she was able to do so. Mewtwo appeared by Damion's side, emitting a glare cold enough to freeze time.

"It behooves you to tell the truth," it said to Lance. "You never know who may be listening."

The Blackthorn Gym Leader's eyes trembled. Lance assumed he would never see the clone again. Yet here it was defending this defiant child. Damion continued to talk that talk.

"Red beat you fair and square," he noted. "And Mewtwo beat you without moving a muscle. You're only Champion by default."

"Red defeated me and ran away to the mountains," Lance countered. "If anyone is a coward it's him, not me. I sit on the Champion's throne because that is where I belong. And I find no shame in losing to Mewtwo. I've seen what it's capable of."

Clair raised her hand and shook her head. She was entirely confused. This Pokémon was foreign to her. In all her years of Pokémon training the name Mewtwo was uttered not once. She requested an explanation.

Damion filled her in on the Genetic Pokémon's creation and internal struggles. In the process, he revealed that it saved him from sure starvation. The boy's accounts of dangerous adventure worried her sick. He had kept the truth from her. Thus, he admitted his failure.

The two shared a moment. Damion sobbed in their embrace. Despite her disappointment in his behavior, she empathized with his pain. The Harrisons were her best friends. They trained, they learned, they explored; they did everything together. Their passing cut Clair almost as deeply. She demanded Lance apologize. His response was less than sensitive. The Gym Leader laid a heavy slap on the Champion's left cheek. He rubbed the red side of his face.

Damion apologized in his stead. Lance returned the gesture, exiting Clair's home before matters worsened. Mewtwo explained to Clair the bravery in which Damion demonstrated. It assured that it would not be standing before her if not for the boy's transformative insight. This placed a smile on the godmother's lips. She wiped Damion's last stream of tears.

"Despite our differences," Clair said, "I will always love you, Damion." The young Trainer looked up from the ground and gazed into her soul. With quivering lips, Damion nodded his head in reverence.

He took Clair's advice and, with Mewtwo cloaked at his side, crossed the small pond behind Blackthorn City's Pokémon Gym en route to the Dragon's Den. Performing the sacred code, Damion greeted the Den's guardian and entered the holy temple.

A dragon-engraved ladder led to an underground lake beneath the mountainous city. The tide's lullaby evoked a serene mystique. Little had changed in the Dragon's Den since Damion was a toddler. That fateful day ten years ago tainted the Den's hallowed allure for the boy. It became merely another name on a map to him.

Damion descended the tattered stone stairs overlooking the water. The Dragon Shrine's back panel was visible in the distance. At the foot of the steps, a designated Ace Trainer anticipated Damion's arrival.

"Ah-ha!" the slender boy exclaimed. "I am Ace Trainer Kobe! We have locked eyes thereby engaging us in battle. Oscar, I choose you!" Damion rubbed his eyelids in frustration.

"Look man, I'm not in the mood for this right now."

"What? You can't back out of a battle. We locked eyes!"

"People lock eyes every single day. If I don't want to battle you, I don't have to."

"But… it's the Way of the Trainer!"

"You keep your traditions. I've got somewhere to be."

"Dude, c'mon. I need some action!"

"You don't want this action, bro. Trust me."

The Ace Trainer's Dragonair slithered around Damion, attempting to intimidate him. It hadn't the slightest clue of its mistake. Mewtwo, still invisible, grabbed the limbless Pokémon and hurled it into the nearest wall.

As Damion released a Kingdra (a blue seahorse-like Pokémon with yellow belly scales, a tightly curled tail and a high-powered snout) Clair loaned him into the lake, he double-tapped Kobe's cheek and boasted.

"Told you." The panicked Trainer rushed to nurse his fainted friend.

Damion mounted the back of his godmother's half-Water, half-Dragon-type Pokémon. One of Clair's highest-skilled companions, Kingdra had enough power to swim past the perilous whirlpool located in the Den's western section. Only those who passed through the whirlpool could reach The Master. Damion returned Kingdra to its Ball and crossed the threshold of the coveted Dragon Shrine.

Seven men came into sight. All of them were bald. They prayed, chanted or read ancient text. Large tri-podded torches lit the path to The Master. Three elders stood on each side. Behind them were the bodies of winding Gyarados. Two blue stone statues pointed towards the Shrine's back room where the Gyarados heads resided. The Dragon Clan Elder sat on a bamboo floor mat, stroking his long white beard.

Damion softly beat his chest as he passed individual elders. They smiled unless deep in prayer. The young Trainer sat across from The Master. He aligned his Poké Balls in front of him.

"Hey, Poppa," said Damion. The Master held one finger in the air for a moment before responding. A loving smile emerged.

"Young Damion," he greeted. "Long time no see! Clair informed me of your heroics." Damion inched his head downwards. "What's wrong, m'boy?" asked The Master. Silence ensued. The man known as Poppa let his kin in on his most recent epiphany:

"Mistakes are a necessary evil, my son. They mold us. But they do not control us. For years I blamed myself for the degradation of our Dragon Clan. After all, it was Blackthorn's most sacred tradition.

We worked in the shadows, defending honor and innocence. But times have changed. We are seen merely as a cult by the city's youth, an advice parlor at the very best. Things were different when your parents were around, better. I am old. My colleagues are old. Clair is a worldwide superstar or what have you.

We have no place in this society. So we hide below the city's surface and do what we can to supply hope to our people. I used to blame myself for the changing of the guard. But now I see that this is simply the essence of time. We reached our apex of community service. Young men and women are loyal only to their desires. I cannot blame them for this. Our city is full of visitors. I hardly recognize it anymore.

Realizing I don't have control over every little thing has brought me peace. I have let go of yesterday to live in tomorrow's beauty. Is the past keeping you from your spiritual growth, my son?"

Damion looked The Master in his beady brown eyes; his breaths were choppy as he retracted his lips and shook his head.

"The past keeps me focused," said Damion. "The pain makes me feel alive." The Dragon Clan Elder fidgeted with his facial hair.

"What you say troubles me, Damion. Tell Poppa why you feel this way."

"With all due respect, Poppa, I did not come to explain myself to you. I have come to tell you the path I have chosen."

"Show me your heart, my son."

"I've been dealt a poor hand. That is out of my control. Now is the time to get up from the table and play a game of my own, a game with only one rule: Revenge by any means necessary. I can't wait around for destiny to make things right. Time is of the essence. The past is all I see, Poppa. I am no longer the boy you watched grow up."

Damion rose to his feet and pounded his chest in respect to his father's mentor. Fear enveloped the old man's gaze. This was the first time in which Damion did more than listen and accept guidance. He intended to spin a web of spite, one of unjust justice. This issue hit too close to home. The great Master watched as Damion sprouted into manhood. Damion reached for Clair's Kingdra from his vest pocket at the Shrine's isle-like entrance. The Elder gave his final words.

"Mistakes are momentary," he said. But consequences can last much, much longer."

"Many men wish to change the world," the boy replied. "But few are willing to change themselves."

Kingdra appeared and carried Damion back across Blackthorn's underground lake. They fought off a stubborn wild Dratini asking for a beatdown. Damion dismounted the dual-type. It wished to stay in the Den. The Trainer denied its request, returning the sea horse to its Ball and ascending the old stone steps. He paused before climbing the Den's ladder.

Mewtwo, Damion called internally. His friend materialized by his side with no other Trainers in sight.

"Yes, Damion?" it answered.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Yes, of course."

"How did you find me?"

"After three days of meditation, my heart led me to you."

"What do you mean, three days? I was captured the day after we met."

"You are mistaken, my friend. Portals place you where you should be, not when. Time does not exist within them."

"Aight. Can you promise me something?"

"Yes."

"No more portals."

"Agreed."

"Can I ask you something else?"

"Yes, my friend."

"Are you afraid to take a life?"

". . . May I ask you something instead?"

"Sure."

"Are you the greatest Pokémon Trainer alive?"

"I-I don't know. Why?"

"Answer me. Are you the greatest Pokémon Trainer alive?"

"Why are you asking me this?"

"I want to hear you say it, Damion."

". . ."

"I believe in you, Damion. Say it."

"I am the greatest Pokémon Trainer alive . . ?"

"Louder!"

"I am the greatest Pokémon Trainer alive."

"Make it so!"

"I am the greatest Pokémon Trainer alive!"

Mewtwo's eyes shone fluorescent blue. From Damion's Bag floated the Ball he received from Giovanni, which was now encased in blue light. It landed in the boy's palms. His puzzled expression invoked a smirk from the clone.

"I expect nothing less from my Pokémon Trainer."

Mewtwo pressed the Ball's center button. It popped open and the Genetic Pokémon digitized inside. A successful tone chimed. Damion gripped the Master Ball in his dominant hand, staring with disbelief. A faint whisper graced his ears.

"Together, we will not lose."