prologue

Author's Note: So this is basically a multi-chapter sequel to "A Grave near Village Bridge," which is a short story I wrote and can be found on my profile. You don't need to read it for this story to make sense though.

It's a loose adaptation from Black 2, with Nate and Hugh aged-up and a different plot.

From inside the Pokémon Center, Nate watched the rain descend, droplets splattering the windows. Nate's view of what was happening outside was becoming gradually foggy. There was a long line at the Pokémon Center counter today. Of course—this was what some people did during their weekends, elementary school children to middle-aged adults, taking away the gruel of the working week through a weekly trip in the long grass. In the summer it was even worse, and kids would line up at the edges of the forests near their homes, Poké Balls in hand with smug expressions.

Nate was one of those kids once. He would take his little Zorua and burst out to the hideouts around his hometown. His knees were knobby underneath his khakis shorts, dark hair barely brushed. He remembered coming home to his air-conditioned house when the day turned into night and the air turned thick, and he would give his Pokémon to his former Pokémon nurse mother who only needed a few seconds to patch up Zorua. Well, but Zorua was gone now, and the remains of childhood had already faded from Nate's face.

He frowned back, impatiently, to the line. God, it was too long, even for this hour. Maybe the nurse was new. It would explain a lot, like how she nervously handled the Poké Balls of large Pokémon or how she sometimes seemed to smile too much and it looked forced. Nate, in frustration, glanced back at the foggy windows, where people continued to pass by. For most of these people, his eyes flitted over them in disinterest. But through the drizzle of the rain, he could swear he could find a semi-familiar shape, a man who wore an expensive trench coat. It was a very...certain trench coat, and a certain man. Nate's jaw slackened. This wasn't possible. But maybe it was, and could it be luck...?

Had he not been trying to find this man, after all?

Nate rushed outside, letting the Pokémon Center's automatic doors whirr shut behind him. He speed-walked, then eventually sprinted to the man in the trench coat, who seemed more and more like his father the closer he got. Even the whiff of the cologne in the air smelled faintly of him, the man who stood on Nate's doorstep that fateful day—

"Here, son. I'll give you a Zorua."

From that day on, he had developed an interest in Pokémon. From then one, his life had changed completely from the path it was heading before. Everything had led to this.

Nate, out of breath, tapped the shoulder of the man. The man turned around, and Nate could see he was actually wearing, quite frankly, a cheap trench coat; not the expensive one his father had worn that day. Plus, it was in a wrong color, and now the scent was wrong, of lemon mint.

Most damning of all, the man looked nothing like Nate.

chapter one

"Are you a boy, or a girl?"

"Mom. This is awkward."

It was evening at the Black residence. Nate and his mother were crowded around the television set and on the screen was the famous picture of Professor Juniper herself, smiling broadly in the camera with her dark blond hair tied in a loose bun. He wasn't a beginning Pokemon trainer like the intended audience, but was given this tape for feedback.

"You know that Hugh's father told me that Hugh would be going on a Pokémon journey soon?"

Nate didn't say anything. Hugh was going to return to college in the fall and would be starting serious Pokémon training relatively late. But Unova wasn't known for its Pokémon Trainers, and the field wasn't saturated enough that beginning late would cause many problems here. Like almost everyone else, Hugh already had some experience with Pokémon under his belt: Nate and him would always double battle as children with Hugh's father's Nidorino, Hugh proud of wielding this relatively rare Pokémon in the fields outside of Aspertia City. And like everyone else, Hugh had gradually lost the hobby of Pokémon battling as they grew older, school consuming his time for most of the year with video games replacing the thrill of battles in the leisure time he had left. Only Nate and a few others really kept on Pokémon training. But in late adolescence and adulthood, sometimes people returned to their childhood activities.

"Maybe you can go to Hugh," his mother said. "Show him the ropes?"

Nate looked at his mother, wearing a vague smile. He couldn't resent his mother, even for this. She genuinely thought she was helping him get over it as though that was possible.

"You know I can't do that."

"Still...you haven't spoken to Hugh in a long time. You used to be good friends."

What changed that? The simple cost of growing up, being in different classes and doing different things? Then there was Pokéstar Studios and Nate's relentless attempts to become a Pokémon champion, of course. Hugh was his neighbor, but it didn't feel as though they have truly seen each other in years. It was hard to forget still the times they spent together, those occasions where they were playing tag in the park, the birthday parties. Nate bit into his cheek.

"Okay. I'll see him."

"The moment you choose the Pokémon that will accompany you on your journey, your story will truly begin," Professor Juniper was saying on the television screen. Her words were obviously carefully planned, but she managed to include some warmth. "During your journey, you will meet many Pokémon and people with different personalities and points of view. I really hope you learn what is important to you as a result of your travels... That's right! Befriend new people and Pokémon and grow as a person!"

Nate couldn't anticipate the lump in his throat at hearing that. Maybe he did grow as a person, but not in the way anyone could've expected.

"I'll write a review of this video later," Nate said, rising from the floor after the video finished. "I think I'll go take a walk."

It was beginning to darken, but it was still bright enough, and he left his home, walking through the streets until he turned right towards the wild grass by impulse. On account of Aspertia City's small size, it took a short while to reach the outskirts after going through the gate for Route 19. The route was mostly navigable without having to wade through pockets of wild grass, with a well-traveled dirt path snaking from one side to another. Throughout his childhood, Nate had came here to battle other people countless times, and when he set out for his journey the summer he was ten, he walked through this route alone for the last time.

Despite the summer months, the route was emptying since most children were expected back at home at this late hour, but there were still a few rummaging through the grass to find another wild Pokémon to catch while some others were battling in the side, the children shouting their commands as their Pokémon tried to obey them. It was painful to see.

To Nate's surprise, nobody gave him a second glance. As an adult now, he was invisible, unable to be used as trading or battling partner. He walked through the route uninterrupted, wondering if he should progress to Floccesy Town. He was passing by a group of children departing the area when he saw Hugh, dressed in athletic clothing with a water bottle beside him, sitting on a rock.

His blue black hair was shorter and less ruffled than Nate remembered, and there was an unfamiliar shadow of facial hair on the sides of his face. But Nate recognized his tall lean figure and upturned nose, those brown eyes that were now focused on his phone.

"Hugh."

Hugh paused, looking up. It took a moment for Hugh to recognize him, and Nate could only wonder what he thought regarding him, what features of him were simultaneously new and older and clashed with Hugh's memory.

"Nate! I haven't seen you in a long time." His voice was lower than Nate had recalled. Hugh turned off his phone and put it in his pocket. "How are you?"

"I'm good. What about you?"

"I'm fine." There was a slight rasp in his voice now. "I'm going to go on a Pokémon journey."

"My mom told me." Nate paused. "Really going to live out that childhood dream."

Hugh smiled. "That's what we always wanted to do, right? When we were kids? Go on a journey together and become Pokémon champions?"

Nate swallowed, thinking of those lost childhood dreams. The sun briefly became more intense as it was setting, and he studied Hugh, seeing the glare of the sunset settle on his hair, the orange light that was reflected in his sharp brown eyes. Hugh was almost two years older than him, but he always was nice to Nate in a roughish way as one of the only boys who lived in their neighborhood. He thought he saw a semblance of that boy there.

"I remember. A lot has changed since then."

"Nate, I heard about Zoroark," Hugh said, the smile slipping from his face and his tone becoming quieter, more urgent. "I'm so sorry. It was a horrible accident. But I know...Zoroark really liked you."

Nate nodded, unable to speak. He turned his face away. From his point he could just make out the lookout, the pride of Aspertia City, occupied by a couple holding hands. Nate had never seen them before, but outsiders often came to Aspertia City on account of its Pokémon gym and the national park nearby. It was a quiet and unhurried city, but also quite boring compared to the other locations Nate had visited in Unova. He never spent much time here after finishing high school.

He put his hands in his pockets, chilled by the oncoming night. "I was meaning to ask you, Hugh. Why now? You haven't been interested in Pokémon in a long time."

"It'll be nice to go on a journey. Get some independence. You know what I mean, right?" Nate did.

"Actually...there's something I need to do." Something dark passed by Hugh's face.

"Really?"

"Don't tell my parents," he said, his voice becoming quiet. This was far from the first time Hugh had said similar words to him. He would say something along those lines so many times as a child, telling Nate secrets that weren't to be expressed to anyone else: the secret candy he hid underneath his bed, the girl he had a crush on. "I have a bone to pick with Team Plasma."

Nate had heard they had returned, but he hadn't seen them personally. They were more active a few years ago, though Nate was never involved in their squabbles and they mainly targeted weak trainers. Technically he should be careful of them, considering their violent activities—but in his heart, he couldn't imagine fearing them. He still had the mindset of a top-ranked Pokémon trainer, capable of squashing any amateur in his path.

"They stole my little sister's Purrloin," Hugh continued. "It was a gift from my late grandfather."

"When was this?"

"A couple years ago. I still haven't gotten the Pokémon back. But I need to, you know." Hugh searched Nate's face. "Nate...why don't you help me? Be my partner again like in old times? I know that you're strong. You can help me defeat them."

"Do you know that I've stopped battling, and why?" Nate asked. "I'm not sure about this, Hugh."

"Listen, Team Plasma is stealing Pokémon away. They're abusing and overworking them. Many Pokémon have died. And I know that it's difficult for the average person to stop them. I'm stronger now, but it was too difficult for me to even consider going after them—I hate to admit it, but it's true. But I know that you're an exceptional trainer, and that you could be a big difference, so you should consider bringing some justice with your talents. Besides, Cynthia is Cynthia, and...these people are not. You are not going to lose another Pokémon battling with them. I promise. You'll be able to help a lot of Pokémon get freed."

"Hugh...I don't know."

He didn't need an excuse a couple years ago. The only goal in his life was to be a strong trainer, and that was the behavior what Hugh and everyone was familiar with, from Nate and everyone else. But now, stuff had happened, and he could never be that innocent again. Could never watch a Pokémon battle without wincing when seeing the pain wreck through a Pokémon's body. Couldn't see a trainer give orders and not think about how their Pokémon had no choice but to obey, even the smart Pokémon like Zoroark. Zoroark, who could cast the illusion of a human form and so skillfully look like he could be Nate's little brother, with round brown eyes and straight brown hair, gone...

Hugh patted his shoulder. "Think about it, okay?"

Nate could not promise to do so.

"I know you must still keep some Pokémon."

Nate in fact did. He had a hidden Latios that he always had on him because it could use the HM Fly, and it served as a useful Pokémon to stave off wild Pokémon. But to purposefully bring Latios into battle, again and again, was too much.

"I'm leaving soon, Nate," Hugh said. "Maybe in a couple days. I hate to put you in the spot. But I feel like I've already been waiting a long time."

"Good luck," Nate said. He sincerely meant it; he didn't want Hugh to lose to a bunch of thieves that abused Pokémon. This was something like war was supposed to be, he reasoned: fighting and doing violence for the greater good, to protect people. He could not dislike Hugh for doing this, even as his own stomach lurched. Perhaps it was because he was well-used to it at this point, with everyone from elders to young children assimilated into the culture of Pokémon battling and training.

Hugh stood. He extended his arm, and they shook hands, something they had never done before. Hugh's hand was slightly calloused, which Nate didn't quite expect.

"I'll see you," Hugh said, picking up his water bottle. He smiled, though it was small. There was a good chance they wouldn't see each other again for a long time.

"Yeah, see you around."

Nate watched Hugh walk away, unease in his chest. It had gotten darker by now, and chillier despite the lingering humidity from the earlier mid-summer day. Nate put his hands in pockets and started back home.

The next evening, Nate was in his bedroom, looking over his computer. It was good as well he rejected Hugh's invitation: there were things to do, future arrangements to consider, and he would probably have to fly to Castelia City for a publicity event soon. It was surprisingly easy for Nate to find something to do in the void after Pokémon training. As a Pokémon trainer, he'd promoted the art in Pokéstar Studio films, battling as a superhero type character in the Brycen-Man movie series or an inventor in Everlasting Memories. After he told them that he couldn't do this sort of thing anymore, they unexpectedly helped him transition him out. He'd become a star, they told him. An icon. So they found a place in rom-coms and action films, and he flirted on-screen with actresses and pretended to shoot guns while his audience changed solidly from children to teenagers and maybe adults.

His phone suddenly sounded an alarm, startling Nate. He flipped it off and read the notification on it, which read to avoid the region around Floccesy Ranch, a place that wasn't far from Aspertia City. Nate went into the kitchen, where his mother was cooking chocolate chip cookies.

"Have you seen this notification?" Nate said, holding the phone up near his mother. She frowned.

"It's probably Team Plasma. I heard from the neighbors that they were approaching this area."

"Team Plasma? Are they even still active?"

"There's apparently a new group of them around," his mother said, manipulating the dough with the cookie cutter. "A bunch of people joining up to cause trouble. Neo Team Plasma, I think is what they're called."

Hugh...

"I'm going to come back," Nate said, grabbing a light sweatshirt to wear for the cloudy spring evening. Something occurred to him, and he went to his bedroom to grab his old trainer bag as well. "Just going out for a walk."

"Try not to cause any problems, Nate," his mother said, her eyebrows raised. She wasn't necessarily all that worried about him: she knew that he still held onto Latios, after all, and there was a limited chance that any random person can beat him, including a Team Plasma grunt. Still, it would be best to avoid causing any issues, and there was no saying what kind of people joined the ranks of Team Plasma.

"I won't," he said, putting his shoes out and heading out into the summer evening, the humidity of the afternoon now dissipated with just a trace remaining. He felt uneasy about calling inside the house, where the walls were thin and his mother could hear him, but once he had made it to the outskirts of the city, parents calling out their children's names to come home, he tried to call Hugh.

It took a while for him to pick up. Nate sat down on the rock he'd seen Hugh been on yesterday, trying not to think about how the dirt from the rock could get on his expensive pants. He was beginning to fear that this wasn't the right number from all the time that had elapsed since high school before Hugh answered, his panting audible through the phone. "Nate?"

"Hugh. Where are you?"

"Floccesy Ranch."

Nate crossed his legs. "I knew it."

"Nate, I had to," he said.

"Answer me seriously. How are you holding up?" Nate had no idea what kind of capabilities Hugh had. They hadn't battled since they were kids, and it was different back then.

Hugh was quiet for a few moments, and this was when Nate knew Hugh was in a corner. Hugh had never lacked confidence. He was not the type of person to humble himself or possess any type of shyness, so when Hugh continued in a subdued tone, "I'm doing fine, the only problem is that there's one after another—" Nate knew that Hugh was in trouble.

"I'll be there," Nate promised, his hand curved around the Poké Ball on his side that contained Latios. He closed his eyes, giving Latios a silent apology. "Just try to hold up for the next few minutes, okay?"

"Okay," Hugh said grimly, and it was this affirmation instead of outright denial that confirmed Nate's suspicions and made him more anxious.

Nate hung up and released Latios from the Poké Ball. At this point, there was no other children in the area, or Nate was sure they would've gawked from seeing a legendary Pokémon. He went on Latios's back, his hands steady against his Pokémon but his heart felt like it was shaking. It's like war, Nate reminded himself, it's like defending your friend, defending your country, but that couldn't stop the twisting of his guts.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, sure Latios could understand his words even as the meaning of them couldn't be deciphered. "But I'm sure it'll be okay this time. Floccesy Ranch."

Floccesy Ranch seemed spookier at night. Nate had only been there in the daylight, as a child. His mother had taken him there to see the various animals and Pokémon, and the last time he had went it was when he was ten years old, during his Pokémon journey. Now it was chillier and more intimidating with its various shadows, but he followed the trail to where he could see a noticeable crowd near a lamppost. Nate tensed, then ran over, not allowing himself to think it over. Nate pushed his way through a few people, and they immediately backed away as though they sensed his prowess. There was Hugh—he noticed him almost immediately, his hand rubbing his cheek, with his wounded Garchomp in front of him. A swarm of Team Plasma surrounded him, though they were different from what Nate recalled from news articles, dressed in tight black clothes rather than loose whites. They wore some type of plain black bandana around their mouths.

"What kind of situation are you in?" Nate asked Hugh.

"This my last Pokémon."

"Your—last?"

Hugh gestured to some of the grunts. "I defeated those. But the ones over there—" He grimaced, looking over to the several grunts in the right. Nate tensed. Judging from the Krookodile facing the Garchomp, the Pokémon of the grunts were substantially weaker than Hugh. But if they had picked at Hugh's Pokémon, going again and again, then they had the advantage of numbers. And the Garchomp was already weak, basically wimping.

"Fine," Nate said, and his arm shook as he took out Latios.

This is like defending your country violence for the greater good you can't let Hugh's Pokémon get captured by these people they'll hurt his Pokémon so you have to do this for the greater good violenceyouhavetodothis

"Just use ice beam," Nate told Latios, his first move in a Pokémon battle in over a year, his hand still gripping the Poké Ball. Latios was large and powerful, and there's no doubt the grunts will be unable to get a stab at him. No doubt at all.

"This is violating every rule in Pokémon battling," the grunt insisted, and he was probably right, because Nate hadn't heard of an ally joining in the middle of a fight to start a two-on-one. Still, Nate gave him his best representation of a writhing look.

"There's no rule in battling to steal your opponent's Pokémon after they lose."

"I can defeat this last Krookodile and then withdraw Garchomp," Hugh offered, though he looked weak. Nate rummaged through his bag, hoping he could find something when he hadn't touched his trainer bag in so long...yes, there was a hyper potion, lying at the bottom. He tossed it at Hugh, and Hugh caught it, looking relieved. It seemed to be the last one in the bag, but Nate didn't think he would need one anyway, or at least before he was able to restock at the Pokémon Center.

It made little difference to Nate if he broke the rules of battling and cut into the Team Plasma battle, because while ordinarily trainers were cautious of their credibility and tried to play by the rules, this was something different. Still, if it meant something to Hugh, there was no use trying to bypass it. Hugh rubbed the back of his neck and ordered his Garchomp to use Dragon Tail. It ended the Krookodile and finished this particular grunt's battle, which allowed Nate to take over. Nate cracked his knuckles, a habit he caught from trying to mimic his favorite Pokémon champions on television as a child, and studied his opponent. A man who, like the rest of the grunts, had orange hair and blue eyes. It made him appear like a clone, more of a portion of a group than an actual individual. He had came forward at the other grunt's loss, his eyes steely. In a deviation from typical battling etiquette, he didn't take out his Pokémon Trainer ID so neither did Nate.

Nate's opponent took out a Sableye. Okay, this was interesting. That Pokémon was rare in Unova. Still, even though Latios was at a type disadvantage, there was a heavy level advantage on Nate's side, and he barely blinked as one shot of ice beam caused the Sableye to faint before it could even think to move. Latios was a pro at his job, and Nate didn't think the Sableye would face serious damage from it, though there was still an anxious part of him that wanted to tense as he reflected on it in the aftermath. The grunt hissed, then took out a Nuzleaf, who got much of the same treatment. At the Liepard that followed, Nate took a sideway glance at Hugh, who shook his head. Latios finished it up with another ice beam. Latios couldn't do ice beam without rest all day long, but he wouldn't have to: there were a few other moves in Latios's arsenal, and an ether with maybe some other goodies scrambled around Nate's bag.

The grunt's eyes had pure blue fire in them as he backed up, but Nate looked back at him coldly with his arms crossed. If he had the energy to get upset, he should've used it to make up a stronger team. The other grunts were also slowly withdrawing, seeing Nate's Latios tower over them completely unharmed. Latios looked over to Nate nonchalantly. There was something good about winning, it was hard not to admit otherwise. Still, Nate felt unease. That sense of power from battling was addicting, and yet...

"Who the f—who even are you, anyway?" one of the grunts, a woman, asked. She was on the side of the defeated grunts, Nate duly noticed.

Nate ignored her, turning to Hugh. "Do you think I should defeat all of them or let them surrender?"

"I need to find my sister's Pokémon..."

"Do I need to defeat all of them to do that?" Nate asked, and he was simultaneously shocked and disgusted by the sudden glee that rose in him at the thought. It was now that Nate realized that he wasn't gripping his Poké Ball anymore, instead letting it slip naturally into his jacket pocket, the same way he did while he was an ambitious Pokémon trainer.

Hugh put his hands in his pockets, frowning. "I don't think they have the Pokémon, but there's no way of really knowing without checking."

"Well, you heard him," Nate said, turning to the undefeated grunts. "Show me your rosters, or I'll force you. I can fight all four of you at once."

It was part bluff, because Nate had little intention of offering that if he felt they would actually do it. Latios remained on the ground, intimidating in his massive size, and they were cowered beneath him. The undefeated grunts obeyed Nate, and while one individual had a Liepard, it didn't have the OT of Hugh's grandfather. Hugh insisted they release it from the Poké Ball, and he said he wasn't it, either.

Despite looking at the OTs, Nate couldn't exactly tell what the names of any of the grunts were. The Pokémon had random OTs with the names of many different people. They were probably stolen, Nate realized. It seemed like they had some type of preference for Dark-type Pokémon, and for a moment he wondered who used to own the Sableye and Nuzleaf he fought against. The Liepard was so common in Unova it could've been gotten anywhere, but the Sableye and Nuzleaf were more unique.

"You look like one of the higher-ups," a grunt said. Their eyes crinkled, and Nate imagined a smirk had formed underneath the bandana. "You could be Aspen's lookalike."

Nate paused, tasting dust in his mouth. "Who?"

"Aspen. Aspen Boyell."

Nate tensed, then bit down on his cheek hard. His mind took the name and spliced it open, examining it from multiple angles.

"You'll never be able to defeat him though," the grunt added cheerfully with mockery.