Illusions of Grandeur

by Kim Hoppy

Whatever happened to Ash while he was Shan? That's what his friends and family want to know, and he's finally going to tell them . . . The sequel/prequel to The Death of Ash Ketchum

14. Archaic Danse Macabre

Summary—The Ossature League is here, finally. New Pokémon, new rules to play by. A pity not everyone wants to play by them . . .

A/N: Ossature is French, means "framework," and is used in architecture.

Danse Macare is also French and means "Dance of Death." Originally it symbolized a dancing skeleton—akin to the Grim Reaper, perhaps—that led the dying or other dancing skeletons away. Several woodcuts of medieval times display such a thing.

I also seem to recall a line in a show when the warden or such ask a prisoner sentenced to die if he was going to dance as he was led to the chair. He explained that a prisoner is suddenly seized with fear and struggles to get away from his captors for one last moment of Freedom.

"It's supposed to look like a dance . . ."

Chapter 14:

Archaic Danse Macabre

"Oddish odd?"

"Yes! Ya are odd! Now stop followin' me!"

"Odd odd!"

"Go away, ya green soccer ball or I'll kick ya!"

Shamin came running up with Trigger at her heels, yipping excitably. "Miriam, what are you yelling at?"

Miriam snarled, her back against the tree. "Get this cauliflower away from me!"

"Oddish!"

"Go away, ya stupid veg-ible!"

Shamin blinked, halting Trigger with a signal. "So that's why you were screaming bloody murder? Because some Oddish is bothering you?"

"That thin' is scary!" Miriam snapped, watching the plant jump up and down excitably. "Its 'oddish, odd' and crap!"

"Miriam! It's a nice Pokémon!"

"Just get Trigger to whip its leaves!"

She looked unconvinced, and worried. "I can't have Trigger battle it."

Her friend gave her a withering look, loathing the possible excuse that would come. "Why not?"

"Well, Shan's not here to help me."

"Aren't ya his Trainer?" Her face was twisted in an angered exasperation.

"Well . . . I only got the hand signals down. You know, fire—"

"Don't show me!" Miriam screamed, seeing that Trigger was watching the hands obediently, prepared to demonstrate his ability to follow them right at her.

"Why n—oh yeah. Trigger's a good boy, isn't he?" Shamin purred, kneeling down to pet the attentive Growlithe.

"Gra!" he yelped loudly. He never had understood what his Trainers—he viewed Ash and Shamin as both of his Trainers, neither over the other—meant by barking quieter, and now neither of them made the sign as much. They simply brought a finger to their lips, which he understood to mean as "No Bark."

"Shh, Trigger," Shamin said, shhing with the sign. He instantly quieted.

"Good," Miriam nodded in approval. Trigger had a hair-trigger when it came to barking, and anything that could get him to shut up quickly was a plus in her mind. Especially when she was out of aspirin.

"Shan's idea. Trigger couldn't understand the loud signs."

Miriam shrugged. "Don't care. Just wipe the Oddity."

"Oddish?"

"Miriam, I'm not fighting that. I don't know how high a level its at, and I want Trigger to start small."

Her jaw dropped. "That is small!"

Shamin looked at her. "So are Pyro or Pikachu, but I'm not sending Trigger against one of them!"

Miriam frowned, then made a face as the Oddish walked closer and started to rub against her leg. "Where's Blondie?"

"Checking out the caves," Shamin informed her, throwing back her head in the general direction. "He says there's an entrance around there. I think it caved in, myself. I mean, he's crawling in these really narrow spaces." She shuddered. Shamin wasn't claustrophobic, but she saw no need in getting into spaces that tight.

"So ya won't send Trigger out without him around?" Shamin nodded, and Miriam took a very deep breath.

****

Ash kept his hand against the wall of the cave as he crawled through the narrow cave, flashlight pinned to the ground ahead of him.

"Pikachu?" Pikachu asked in a whisper, coming up from behind him.

"Nope," he sighed, turning his head to smile to smile at her, then beaming his head on the ceiling. "But I'm only on the third cave. Funny, I do go faster when Shamin and Miriam aren't around." He grinned, rubbing his head and feeling the ceiling. "Maybe we should try and capture an Onix."

"Pi?"

"It'd really help out with the caving. One, it'd make them taller. My knees are killing me."

"BBB-LON-DEEE!"

Ash sighed and looked over his shoulder back at the exit. That wasn't a Blondie-I'm-in-Trouble yell. That was a Blondie-Get-Your-Ass-Over-Here yell. "Should I go, Pikachu?" He grinned mischievously, crawling more into the cave ever-so-slowly.

Pikachu was just about to answer when Miriam answered for them. "YYY-ESSSS AS HELLL YOUUU SHOOOOOOULD!"

"How does she do that?" Then, shaking his head as he circled himself, he started back out of the cave. They were right. Women always seemed to get men trained better than Growlithes. Look, he was already crawling . . .

****

Pyro arrived before Ash and ran up next to Trigger. The pup was bigger than him, but that didn't bother Pyro, for the fox knew he could take him. Trigger, pleased to see one of his family, nipped him pleasantly. It wasn't a very nice nip, because the puppy never heard another Pokémon's yelp of pain, not that Pyro yelped in pain. Pyro took it upon himself to teach the dog by "nipping" back and meeting pressure. It was a method, despite Shamin's protests, that was working. The bites were getting lighter. Now if only they could get it through the pup's thick skull that everyone did not want to play when he did . . .

"Pyro's here," Shamin said, glaring at the fox as she tended to the Growlithe's wound, for the pup was whimpering a bit. Pyro ignored it. He knew the puppy was only milking it for attention. The fox had done the exact same thing under Ash's supervision and the puppy hadn't put up nearly as big of a display—and Pyro had bitten harder. It seemed that while Trigger was willing to act semi-helpless under Shamin's care, under Ash's sole—that part was important—training, Trigger wanted to act tough like the boy's other Pokémon. Trigger had watched Ash fawn over his Pokémon when they won a battle for him, and Trigger had discovered Ash would only pay him that kind of attention if he was tough like the other Pokémon. It didn't matter if he won, just that he had done well.

"Pyro, attack this plant!" Miriam ordered smugly, confident that Pyro could beat it easily.

Pyro blinked slowly at her, then looked at the Oddish. The Oddish looked back. "Oddish?"

"Pyro," Miriam said warningly. Pyro continued to study the Oddish. "Pyro?"

Shamin grinned. "It's your own fault for not training him."

"Shows what ya know. He's . . . summin' up the competition."

"Right," Shamin grinned.

In fact, Pyro was summing up the Oddish. Crazy as it was, Pyro never met an Oddish before, let alone battled one. Why would he want to eat a veg-ible anyway? He liked meat. Pyro was no expert in battling Plant-type Pokémon, and he knew it. And he did not jump headfirst into a battle. Pyro learned that jumping headfirst could mean never jumping again, at least with a head.

"Hey, Trigger!" Shamin yelled as Trigger, despite his "wounded" leg, ran off.

"What's wrong, Miriam?" Ash asked, suddenly strolling up, smiling as Trigger leaped playfully around him. He was literally covered in mud from those caves, although he didn't really mind as he peeled of the bandana that held his hair out of his eyes.

"Would ya kindly remove this thin'?" Miriam growled, glaring at Pyro, who was still studying the plant. "Since a certain little fox ain't gonna." Pyro looked up.

Ash grinned, walking over to scoop the tiny Oddish up. "Don't be so hard on him, Miriam. He looks like he's never seen one before. Hey there, little guy," Ash cooed at the Oddish, tickling it.

"Oddish!" it smiled.

"You mean I could have just picked the thing up?" Shamin demanded.

"I shouldn't see why not? I mean, he looks like a friendly little guy, aren't ya? Have a look, Trigger." He bent down to let the puppy examine it. Pyro also came closer, slowly.

"Pikachu pika!" Pikachu laughed from Ash's shoulder, seeing the fox's hesitant behavior.

"Nine!" he growled.

"Easy, Pikachu," Ash smiled, seeing that Pikachu was poking fun at Pyro's lack of knowledge. "This is an Oddish." He spoke to both the fire Pokémon, although more towards Trigger than Pyro (for sack of fox Pride), making a sign he would forever be designated to remembering as "Oddish", for Trigger's sake.

Trigger happily sniffed the leaves, causing the Oddish to giggle, then staggered. "Grr?" he slurred.

"What happened?" Shamin demanded, rushing over.

"He just probably got a bit of stun spore," Ash explained, watching as the pup shook his head to clear the effects. "A very mild dose. He'll be okay. Want to see, Pyro?"

"Odd!"

Pyro glared at the plant. Stun spore, huh? What other nasty little surprises do you plants hold? He growled, and the Oddish shook fearfully.

"Sure, now ya act tough," Miriam sneered at Pyro. He didn't respond to her barb. "Ya never saw one of them? I thought everyone had." Miriam dimly remembered them ruining her sandbox garden, something she had spent several days on and was really proud of. And then those little sprouts walked through it!

"I only assume he hasn't," Ash said quickly, seeing the fox's fur bristle. Actually, he was pretty sure Pyro hadn't, given the fox's behavior, but if Pyro felt his pride had been damaged, there'd be no living with him. Not that the girls had anything to fear, but Ash felt he certainly did. "It's just that you never had him battle before, and he's come to expect the fact that he doesn't have to battle. You're so against it and all. You did bring it on yourself, Miriam."

She grunted her agreement, then frowned. "I'll have ya know, he has battled under my command."

"But you were in like danger of dying," Shamin put in. "The Oddish didn't look like he was hurting you."

"Whatever," Miriam sighed, picking up Pyro and walking away. "It would have been an easy win for Pyro anyway."

"Oddish!" Oddish cried, leaping from Ash' hands and running after Miriam.

"Hey!" Ash yelled. "Come back."

Miriam turned her head and saw the Oddish back at her heels. "GET IT AWAY!" she wailed.

"Odd odd!" it cried, jumping up and down.

"WOULD ONE OF YA GET IT AWAY FROM ME!" Miriam screamed.

"Miriam, it's cute! Why are you screaming?"

"I'm sorry, but I HATE VEGIBLES! Get AWAY!" She tried to kick it, but missed.

Ash shook his head, looking down at Trigger. He brought his thumb out like he was hitchhiking, pointing it at Oddish. It meant, "Wanna Battle?"

"GRROW!" Trigger yapped in a high pitch, so high that Ash winced and Pikachu almost lost her place, leaping around excitably.

"Shamin, get over here and battle with Trigger!" Ash ordered. He wanted Trigger to accept her as his Trainer and not so much as him. So far this system hadn't been work working. If given a choice when they tried dual commanding (to deal with distractions), Trigger always obeyed Ash's commands over Shamin's, always looked at Ash first instead of her. Of course, Trigger went to Shamin if he wanted something. He chose which Trainer to obey when it suited his needs, and Ash didn't like that. At such a young age, even now at only half a year by Ash's estimate, Trigger was picking up bad habits.

Of course, it wasn't all Trigger's fault, Ash admitted as Shamin ran over. Shamin didn't like to battle alone, and she wasn't a Battler. She didn't like to hurt the other Pokémon. Shamin only liked raising them, as did Miriam, although it was getting clear to Ash that Miriam was getting very partial about which ones she'd even touch. They'd be great for Pokémon shows, but in Pokémon competitions both would be eaten alive in the first minute. Part of Ash was slowly coming to realize the different types of Trainers around him. Having traveled with Brock, Tracey, and Misty, he had always, truth be told, been under the impression that Trainers were . . .well, Trainers, for lack of a better word. They wanted to battle and win using their Pokémon. But Miriam and Shamin, they had given him a glimpse of Trainers who may like their Pokémon to be strong, but held no special love to win. Well, as Miriam would point out, everyone loved to win, but they saw no need to go out on a limb to go to a competition.

Still, Trigger had the passion and talent for battling, as did Pyro. Ash admitted it was too late for Pyro learn to battle. One, because his Trainer wasn't a Battler. Two, he was already very old (for training, because he was so damn stubborn!). Three, he didn't quit. True, that was a good trait, but Pyro took it to the extreme, because he saw it as the extreme. Ash had seen Pyro battle wild Pokémon at dangerously high levels compared to the fox, and he saw the fear in the prefect stance, execution, and attack. Pyro was too afraid of losing against another Pokémon because he was afraid of being killed. He wouldn't understand that the Pokémon in the League wouldn't kill him, and Pyro would fight to the Death of the other Pokémon before he'd stop. Under League rules, he could he shot on the field. Yes, Pyro held promise, but not under a Trainer's hand. It was under his own paw. Or maybe not . . .

"Ready for battle, Trigger?" Shamin grinned, raising her hands like a boxer. He grinned his puppy grin, and she jabbed. "Go!"

"We shouldn't have used that signal for Starting," Ash muttered, thinking they were going to have a problem when it came time for Trigger to meet a Fighting type.

Trigger leaped and Tackled the Oddish, batting it away like it was a ball. It rolled away, crying. "Oddish oddodd!" Then it jumped up, a frown on its features. Waving its leaves, it let out a powder.

"Umm . . ." Shamin paused, wondering what it was. Trigger also stopped to watch, and it was all Ash and Pikachu could do not be ram their heads against the ground.

"Shamin!" he hissed.

"Oh, yeah. Trigger!" Unfortunately, Trigger was very interested in the creeping powder and wasn't checking with them like he should. "Trigger!"

Ash groaned, grabbing a stick and tossing it near the puppy to get its attention. Shamin never remembered Trigger couldn't hear her calls. The puppy turned happily, then cringed seeing Ash's upset expression. He didn't even see Shamin's signal until Ash frowned even more, nodding at Shamin.

"About time," Shamin huffed as Trigger released an Ember attack and burned away the powder. He looked back obediently, and Shamin smashed her hand into her fist, indicating Take Down. It was one attack Trigger was especially good at.

Trigger leaped, more playing than actually attacking, and Ash made a mental note that they had to fix that. Of course, Trigger was still a puppy, Ash amended, smiling as the puppy wrestled with the plant, biting the leaves and wiping it around like a sock. And, he noted with satisfaction, Trigger did look at Shamin. Not enough, but he did.

"Let go," Shamin muttered, opening her fist. The Oddish went flying, smacking hard into a stout tree. The Oddish didn't bother getting up, and she quickly released a Pokéball to capture it. "All right, Trigger!" she smiled, giving him thumbs up.

Trigger smiled, then wagged his tail happily when Ash copied the motion. He had done good.

Ash took the Pokéball from Shamin. "Kinda strange."

"It's an Oddish," Miriam snapped, leaping down from the branch she had been residing on during the battle with Pyro. She said it was for own protection, but the view was also better "They got 'odd' in their names."

"No. Oddish come out more often at night. What's this one doing out during the day?" The he smelled something and clutched his nose. "What's that smell?"

Shamin and Miriam both sniffed, as did Pikachu, and none smelled anything strange. "I don't smell anything," Shamin said, petting Trigger.

"It's—ugh!—like dried Gloom!" Ash said disgusted. Then he looked at Miriam. "It's you."

"What?" she demanded.

"You smell like a Gloom!"

"I do not! I'll have ya know this is good perfume!"

"I like it," Shamin smiled, sniffing the perfume Miriam had bought. Yes, actually bought.

Ash made a face, giving Shamin back the Pokéball. "No wonder it was following you, Miriam. It probably wanted to mate or something."

Miriam smacked him on the back of his head, then sneered at the dirt on her hand.

****

"Find Pikachu," Shamin signed—her hand as a visor over her eyes for find/search, and then using her fingers to portray Pikachu's long ears—then watched as Trigger started to sniff for Pikachu. Ash said Trigger had to work of trailing, and that she was to practice while he searched the caves. She hadn't put up much of a fight. Who wanted to go in yucky, dirty, dark caves anyway?

When he had said they'd have to go through caves, images of grand caverns with limestone columns and those gigantic stalactites and stalagmites had filled her head. Her sights sorely fell when she saw that these caves weren't like this scene. In fact, most of the caves constituted of crawl-ways, and you couldn't actually stand fully erect in the "bigger" rooms.

Trigger found Pikachu relatively quickly, for Pikachu was the warm-up. Yipping happily, Trigger leaned against the tree until Pikachu fell from the tree from the sheer pitch of his barks. She frowned at the puppy, signing "shh!" He listened, then waited for Shamin to come up.

"Okay, find Miriam!" She only did that as a joke, for Miriam hated being part of Trigger's training. He always got under foot. (Miriam was signed as an "m" on either side of the head, as Miriam had big hair.)

Trigger took off, then started yipping instantly. "Go away!" Miriam yelled as he bounded up against her, muddying her clothes. "Find Shamin!" (Shamin was signed as an "s" going down the side of her face, indicating Shamin's long bangs.) The pup immediately took off, although only a few feet, for Shamin was already next to him.

Shamin smiled. "Now for the test. Find Pyro!" (Pyro was simply making her forefingers and thumb look like two eyes and bringing them up to her face. The fox had a mean stare.)

That would take Trigger a long time. Pyro always made a point now of trying to lose Trigger, mostly because it was very fun for the fox to sit in one tree and watch as the pup circled another tree nonstop, following the trail the fox had conveniently left. Trigger liked to play, and Pyro did not, at least not Puppy Games.

Trigger sniffed the air, then bounded off. Shamin smiled, watching him go until Miriam said softly, "Ya know, I'd follow him. Because Pyro is right above me." As if to prove her point, Miriam pointed up. Pyro grinned down. Shamin groaned, then followed. Why hadn't Trigger smelt him? The fox was right above them!

"I tole ya the perfume would work," Miriam grinned. Pyro smiled, then yawned. Now he could sun himself in peace.

****

Ash bathed in the river, washing out the clay dirt he had gathered from the caves. Rubbing the soap against his arms, he knew he was missing something. The entrance to Ossature was right around here, he knew it. He just had to find it. He sighed, ducking his head to remove the grit, then stayed under to look at the bed of the river, smooth as polished granite, but in reality a type of limestone. The water was really clear. He picked up a few pebbles and resurfaced. He was out deeper, up to his shoulders.

A sudden noise made him turn his head, and Trigger came bounding at top speed over the rocks and fallen trees. Ash wrinkled his brow. What's with him? He watched as the puppy started to circle the water's edge, sniffing for something. Whatever it was, Trigger couldn't find it, and it seriously upset him as he circled the back a fifth time. Ash grinned, betting he was trying to find Pyro.

With a smile, Ash threw back his arm and tossed a pebble. It splashed lightly in front of Trigger, who jumped from surprise. Ash ducked a little in the water, watching as Trigger studied the water. He threw another pebble, allowing it to land just to the side of Trigger's face, chuckling as Trigger yelped, then splashed the attacking water with his paws.

Ash tossed a few more, always taking great care not to hit the puppy, which ventured more out to the water. That slightly worried Ash, who wondered if the water would hurt the fire Pokémon. Yet Trigger was showing no great distress to it, other than the fact that he couldn't blow his Ember attack as much as he'd like. (The reason water didn't bother him to any great degree, Ash surmised, was because Miriam insisted Shamin give the pup a bath every time he smelled, to Miriam, dirty. Ash could never tell.)

It took about twenty pebbles before Trigger figured out where they were coming from, and he yipped happily when Ash waved at him, diving more into the water to meet the boy. He grew immensely startled when Ash disappeared from his view by diving under the water.

"Gra? Rowl?" he whimpered, swimming in a circle. Suddenly he felt a tremor, and Trigger was immensely relieved that he could feel the vibrations in the water as Ash swam closer. It was like when he felt Ash walked on ground and he felt the tremors in the pads of his paws, only stronger now. He knew where his Trainer was. Trigger liked the water because of it.

Suddenly Trigger felt himself leaving the water as Ash scooped him up, laughing. Trigger struggled to get a hold of himself, excitably licking the boy as Ash walked them both to the shore. "You like the water?" he asked.

Trigger shook himself, wagging his tail and looked at his boxer-clad Trainer.

"Well, let's see if you can keep up," Ash laughed, suddenly taking off to jump off a boulder than went over a deep area of water. Trigger followed without delay.

Ash was surprised at how well Trigger took to the water (he fought like a demon when it was time for a B-A-T-H, seeming able to actually read their lips), for Fire Pokémon rarely liked it to any great extreme or pleasure. And it surprised him at how well Trigger was able to follow his dives and know where he was going to surface. He grinned, slashing the puppy lightly.

They played in the water a bit, but Ash didn't want to over-tire Trigger. And he had chosen well when to get out of the water, for the second Trigger after shook himself off, he promptly fell asleep on a large slab of rock that jutted out over the water. Ash grinned and started to dry himself, then put on his jeans. He settled next to Trigger carefully, touching the puppy gently so the dog knew he was next to him. He watched the water swirl under them.

The water was dark blue, and it was very deep. Ash could see that the ground just dropped off into a pit.

"There he is!" Shamin gasped, suddenly staggering over a rock to see the two. The command "Slow Down" does not work if Trigger couldn't see It, she learned.

Ash grinned, turning slightly to look at her. "He's been here about an hour. Was looking for something, I guess. Pyro, right?"

"Right on one. And the fox started right over our heads!" Shamin scowled at the sleeping Trigger, crashing down on her stomach exhausted. "He runs too fast."

Ash chuckled, petting the puppy. "You're just out of shape. I could have kept up."

Shamin didn't deny it. He could have. She looked at him through the corner of her eye, at his lean muscular torso and strong arms. One had a fresh scar on it because he had taken a mis-aimed razor leaf heading for Miriam, and he had bled a lot from that, and cursed like Hell when they wrapped it up. She smiled admiringly looking at him, then looked at the water below them.

"Find anything?" she asked, a smile on her face.

Ash sighed, lying back on the rock. "Don't even start. We've been here for three days!" he complained, covering his face with his hands.

"Are you sure this place is still here?" she teased.

"Gus said it was!"

She rolled onto her side and looked at him over Trigger's back. "That guy who you said good-bye to? He was so stiff! He was like an ironing board. He probably didn't know anything and just told you that."

"Gus wouldn't do that!" Ash said hotly, glaring at her.

"You are so gullible!" Shamin laughed. Ash stuck his tongue out at her. "And so childish."

"Please, look who's talking," he countered. "You played with that Big Bird puppet."

"It was cute!" Shamin laughed. "And you were the one who got kicked out of the store for playing soccer."

Ash frowned. Actually, he got thrown out for accidentally kicking a ball, which ending up doing a good imitation of a ping-pong-ball machine on several of the attendants. Of course, if Pyro hadn't rolled the ball out in the first place . . . "I was not playing soccer."

She scoffed. "Pyro wasn't even in the store." He had pleaded his case in front of a laughing Miriam.

"Yes he was." There was a soft growl in his voice, and Shamin laughed, looking at him from under her bangs. He was sort of cute when he was upset. It was like when a five-year-old can't get a lolly, and so he tries to look viscous to scare the person into giving him one. All he needed to do was puff out his cheeks.

"What are you looking at?" he snapped, blowing out his cheeks in annoyance. Shamin collapsed into giggles. "What is so funny?"

"You."

He lowered his eyebrows, then sighed. It wasn't worth it. He ran his hands over his face again, thinking about his dilemma. "I know the entrance is around here. I just don't know where."

"In your dreams?" Shamin tried, looking down at the water. Ash peeked through his fingers, sorely tempted to push her down into the water.

"No. You know, some people are supportive of their traveling companions." Brock, Misty and Tracey always were, and Ash wondered why Miriam and Shamin couldn't be more like them. They halted his process, having to sightsee and go into fairs or whatever. They didn't care that they had to get to this League, thoroughly content that they would probably get there is they kept walking and there was no need to hurry. More than once they hadn't done any walking in a day because the girls didn't want to, preferring to laze around. He was always out-voted when he tried to get a vote to decide, even if Shamin sided with him, however rarely. Miriam said she got two votes because one of them was Pyro's. He had tried to point out that he had over 20 Pokémon who'd side with him. Miriam said they didn't count because they were always in their Pokéballs, and Pikachu didn't count because she followed Ash around indiscriminately.

Shamin grinned, looking over her shoulder at him. "And some are the reality-checks."

"And some are excess baggage!"

"And some are starry-eyed," she countered.

"And some are . . . are you!" Ash spat, unable to think of another counter.

Shamin raised an eyebrow. "Is that a compliment, or an insult?" she asked absently.

Again Ash sighed. He was getting a headache (from thinking too much, as Miriam would have pointed out). "Why me?"

"You're just lucky. Do you really think the entrance is through those tiny caves?"

"I am looking through them, Shamin. What do you think?"

"I think you like getting dirty. I just want to know if you think you're actually going to find something."

"Yes, I do, all right?"

"You're so cute when you think like that," she cooed. He merely groaned and rammed his head into the stone, petting Trigger.

"There's got to be a cave around here. It's right next to the river." Pity this place was flowing with rivers, he thought sarcastically.

"Is the map you're using any newer than the others?" Shamin teased. Ash made a noise in the back of his throat and didn't answer. "Well, speaking of the river, did you know another river appears a few miles west of our camp?"

"Really?" he asked quietly in an off-handed way, rubbing Trigger's ears, not quite paying attention. Many rivers and trickles of rivers appeared a few miles from their camp.

"Yep. It's not as big as this one. I think this river feeds that river. See, this river probably turns into an underground river." She pointed down to the drop in the ground. "That river comes from a cavern."

That got his attention. Ash raised his head and looked at her. "How do you know?"

She tilted her head at Trigger. "Pyro led us on some goose chase, a few miles worth. I had a devil of a time jumping to those rocks. What's wrong?" she asked, watching Ash stand up, looking thoughtful. Trigger woke up from the movement.

"I'd like to see this cave."

****

Ash leaned up against the stone, studying the two maps with Pikachu on his shoulder. One was really just an artist's rendering of a description (not that he had told Miriam or Shamin this) someone wrote down. Pooka and Ratwa actually had maps, but not Ossature, and Ash had done a lot of research, several hours of hard work. It was the kind of hard work, Mr. Steiny always said (he was an English Research teacher that Ash learned to, well, not despise, but to hate going to that class), where you would actually scream "Eureka" in the library, regardless of the Silence! signs, if you even found some kind, any kind, of information. This was all he had found, and he actually did have to bite his tongue from saying the Latin word.

He had been following the trail on the map, a cleared out rocky terrain where no vegetation grew in real life. That left miles of caves to explore. Then he looked at the topographical map, at the river, or at least the river in question, not the main river, which is where he had searching around. Yes, they were a very close match, the river disappearing for a time but coming close to joining back up with the trail. Ash grinned, folding the maps up. Finally.

(How annoying that Shamin found it first!)

"What are ya smirkin' about?" Miriam demanded.

"I think this is it."

"A river," she said blankly.

"This is the cave?" Shamin asked, looking up from petting Trigger.

"I think so."

"I'm gonna go swimmin' on an 'I think so'? I think not."

Ash sighed, blowing the bangs out of his eyes and sliding into the water, which went up to his waist. "Come on, Miriam."

Miriam glared at him. "Why?"

He shook his head, then covered his face from the big splash Trigger made when he leaped into the water. "You silly Growlithe!" Ash scolded, not bothering with the signs because he was smiling too much for the signs to be effective. He scooped up the Pokémon. "So, Miriam, you're gonna chicken out?"

"If ya're sayin' I'm more afraid than Trigger, ya are seriously mistaken. I'm not afraid. I'm just cautious."

"Whatever you say, Miriam," he grinned. "Look, you don't have to come along."

"Then I won't. Ya just better come back. Are ya goin' with him?" she asked Shamin.

"One of us better," Shamin sighed, slipping in, then shivering. The water was cold. "Give me my dog."

"He's getting heavy," Ash grinned, slipping the dog over. Trigger whined in protest, but didn't bother to escape Shamin's arms.

"Ugh, right," she muttered, looking back over at Miriam. "You sure you don't want to go?"

Miriam grinned. "Yep."

"How about you, Pyro?" He gave her the Look. "O-okay, I guess not. Well, lead on."

Miriam smiled, watching them walk into the cave. In truth, she really didn't believe it'd head anywhere, and hence saw no real need in getting wet. Well, in getting wet in cold water. She smiled and petted Pyro.

****

Trigger wiggled in her arms, and Shamin gritted her teeth to try and keep a good hold on him. "He is heavy! What have you been feeding him?"

Ash grinned, looking over his shoulder and pointing the flashlight at her. "I feed him the Pokémon food. You're the one that gives him all those treats."

"Well, how's he supposed to know if he was a good boy?" Shamin countered gruffly. Trigger was heavy.

He merely shook his head, holding up a Pokéball. "Sorry, Trigger."

The Growlithe looked panicked at the thought that he was missing out on something, that he must have done something wrong, and panicked, trying to escape Shamin's grip.

"Trigger! Shan, put that away!" Shamin scolded instantly as Trigger fell into the water with a big splash. "Now he's all scared! You know we only put him in there if he's bad or we're going into town!"

Ash sighed, watching as Shamin tried to gather her puppy back in her arms, pocketing the Pokéball. "I'm sorry, but it'd be best if we put him in a Pokéball. We don't know what's coming up."

"Then you put Pikachu in a Pokéball!" Shamin said hotly. "Should protect her too!"

"Chu!" Pikachu snapped, glaring at Shamin dangerously. The girl knew she didn't go in Pokéballs!

Ash frowned at Shamin as well. "No need to say that, Shamin. Look, I was just worrying about Trigger. He is a little heavy for you."

"Well, he's not going back into a Pokéball."

"Shamin, you're being unreasonable. Look, the water's getting deeper, and a bit colder, too. He'll get sick."

Shamin remained stubborn. "So could Pikachu."

"She's not in the water," Ash said pointedly, pointing at Trigger's bottom half, which was dangling in the water.

She looked down at Trigger's tail, then back at him. "Well . . ." she started slowly. "He's not going in a Pokéball unless Pikachu does, so there."

"Shamin," he started, feeling Pikachu back up on his shoulder. He would have been slightly hurt that Pikachu thought he'd side with Shamin, should he have thought about it. He wouldn't actually stick her in a Pokéball without her consent.

"Fair's fair!"

"Pikachu is not going into a Pokéball!" he countered, walking over to snapped a finger at her.

"Then neither is Trigger."

"You are being so stubborn!"

"I'm being stubborn?"

"Yes! Look, Trigger's too big for you to carry!"

"Then you carry him!"

"What?"

Shamin looked at him. "You heard me. You carry him."

Ash looked at Shamin, then sighed, shifting off his pack and grabbing Trigger to rest him on his back like he was carrying a toddler. Pikachu, after glaring at Shamin, had crawled down his side then leaped over to her as she grabbed his pack. "There. Happy?"

She grinned. "Yes. Now you're carrying him, and I got Pikachu. Now let's get going," she smiled, walking past him. "There's a good boy, Trigger," she cooed petting the puppy's ear. Then she petted the top of Ash's head. "And there's a good boy for you too, Shan."

He rolled his eyes, wincing under the weight of the puppy. Offhandedly, Ash raised his flashlight to look at the ceiling, at the lifeline that had created this particular cave. Damn, this made more sense than climbing in those tiny, cramp caves. How many Trainers would actually go through those to get to a League? (Well, maybe that was the whole point . . .) Obviously the entrance would be bigger.

"It's getting dark, ya know?" Shamin started after leading a bit, then falling back behind Ash.

"There's an extra flashlight in my pack." He looked at her. "What?"

Shamin sighed. She had been trying to subtly hint that they should go back, but subtly was not something Ash excelled in. Obviously.

"Is it just me, or is the water getting colder?" she sighed, allowing Pikachu to climb to the top of her head. The whole cave was cold. Her breath was coming in clouds.

Ash nodded. "It is, a bit. I guess because there's no sunlight down here."

"The water is traveling faster, you notice?"

"So?"

"And it's deeper?"

He turned to look at her. "Are you trying to get to a point? You're taking as long as Miriam does, if you are."

Shamin swiped some water at him angrily. "You do know that if you get hypothermia or drown you can't compete in a League! This water is cold!"

"You are such a pessimist," Ash snapped. "Jeez, the water isn't that cold!" A little chilly, yes, but not cold.

"Water doesn't have to be ice for you to get hypothermia," she pointed out bitterly. "You worry about your Pokémon's health more that you worry about your own health. Sick Trainers can't compete."

"I won't get sick."

Shamin raised an eyebrow. "He takes after you, ya know, Pikachu?"

"Chu!" Pikachu countered, offended. She wasn't that stubborn. "Pikapi pika kapi!"

"Huh?" Shamin had an idea that the mouse had placed blame on someone else, probably her, but Shamin wasn't totally sure. "Look, how far until we're at the League anyway?"

"We're in the general vicinity," Ash said vaguely, looking at the cave walls for a sign or something that could give him some sort of clue, as he was, forthcoming quote unquote, "clueless."

"Why do we give you the map?" Shamin demanded. "You can't even read them!"

"I can read them!" Ash snapped, turning rapidly and almost causing Trigger to slip from his hold. His shirt was ripped because the puppy clawed himself into place.

"RAR!" the puppy scolded shrilling, causing several rocks to tumble.

"Well, you can't understand them!" Shamin countered, removing her hands from her ears. "And you're bleeding."

"I know." Ash gripped his shoulder, pushing Trigger's head away so the puppy couldn't lick the wound clean.

"No, Trigger," Shamin snapped, giving the right sign. "He's only trying to apologize."

"Of course he is." Ash washed his hand in the water. It was just a small wound, nothing to worry about. Well, nothing he would worry about. Shamin was a different story altogether as she viewed the wound under her flashlight.

"You should cover it up. It could get infected."

"Pi."

"You two worry too much!"

"No. You don't worry enough!"

Pikachu listened, moving her head back and forth to follow the argument, and Trigger copied. Both were right, of course, but the argument itself was very boring to listen to, although neither would drop it. That would mean they were the one who was wrong. She sagged on Shamin's head, looking at the water where Ash's flashlight fell. There was a small whirlpool made as he walked, and if they continued on any deeper, it would have made it pointless to put Trigger on his back. Actually, it probably was now.

Suddenly she perked her ears, trying to listen beyond the bickering. There was a faint sound, like pottery hitting another piece of pottery. It was a hallow sort of sound that came from the walls. Maybe it was a digging Pokémon? And there was a sound of silent water. What was silent water? Water Pokémon called any water that seemed to make in a confined space, a soft hum which non-water ears took much practice in picking up. It was called silent water because it stilled other sounds made within it.

What was it that usually came with or from silent water? Pikachu tried to remember what Lapras had said, although the young Pokémon was considerably new to the complete workings of the water. Well, usually it meant that the roof of a cave was right next to the water. Well, that would mean they'd have to head back or swim on. Another fight would ensue, one that Shamin would probably win. It looked like she was winning the current one as well, only because Ash was getting sick of carrying it on.

Yet there was something else she had said. What had it been? Pikachu pulled on her ears. Lapras had been so unsure, and Pikachu had been more interested in sunning herself than listening. Something about . . . something. Pikachu sighed, watching the raising water. They must be going down a hill.

"And remember when you fell from the tree?"

"What does that have to do with not being careful?" Ash demanded. "The branch broke!"

"If you have been careful, you won't have used that branch," Shamin reasoned smugly.

Ash growled. "Well, if you hadn't gotten your hat suck up in the tree and been such a wuss, I wouldn't have had to go up and get it. Pyro could have climbed the tree, but you didn't want to get teeth marks on it. So it's your fault I even fell."

"You never did get my hat. And that one was my favorite!"

"The wind took off with it!"

"You just have an excuse for everything," she sniped, waving her flashlight vaguely.

He frowned in the dim. "You think everything is my fault, but just so you know, I won't get in half the messes I did if you didn't do something stupid."

"Stupid! Well, excuse me! But I know for a fact you'd make twice as many even dumber mistakes to make up for it!"

"Would not!"

"Wanna bet?"

Ash gritted his teeth. Why did she have to push the point, especially when she was so damn wrong?! There was such a thing as losing gracefully, and why couldn't she do it! Dammit, he was right! And she was wrong! Wrong, wrong, WRONG!

Was that so hard to understand? Ash didn't think so, but he wondered why Shamin couldn't see the logic of it. It was very easy: He was right, and she . . . was . . . wrong!

"Can't you just deal with the fact that you're WHHOOOA!" he yelped, suddenly siding as the floor dropped away and splashing into the water. Trigger made a giant splash, yelping at the suddenly freezing temperature he was plunged into.

"SHAN!" Shamin shrieked.

"Pikap-iii!" Pikachu yelled, but the cry was changed into a yell as Shamin, too, slipped on the ground when she went over to help. And, like Trigger, she, too, left her perch and crashed into the water.

They were in darkness, the flashlights dropped and shorted out.

Ash wiped his head back, treading water and feeling the water splash around him. "Calm down, everyone!"

"Shut up, you!" Shamin screeched, splashing water in his general direction. "This is all your fault!"

Pikachu scampered onto Ash's head, shaking out and shivering, while Shamin clung to Trigger.

"Everyone here?" Ash asked.

"Pi."

"We're both here, me and Trigger."

"Good," Ash sighed. "Now all we have to do is swim back up the cave."

"Right." Shamin kicked her feet, looking for the edge. Suddenly her head hit a rock, and then moved past. "Shan?"

Ash figured he must have gotten turned around somewhere along the line. "What?"

"We're moving . . . quickly."

He touched the ceiling, which was a lot lower than what it had been before. She was right (for once). "Well, so? We just swim upstream to get out."

Shamin blinked in the darkness, shivering. She didn't think you weren't supposed to swim in cold water, because it made you get colder faster, or something to that effect.

Pikachu pressed herself against Ash's head as the ceiling pressed against her. "Chuu," she moaned.

"You know, if we get into a really deep area of water, we could get sucked down," Shamin said softly.

Ash glared in the darkness. "And where did you pick up that piece of information?"

"It's not a load!" Shamin snapped. "It's true! If you get a big hole on the bottom of a lake or river or something, the water like falls down and pulls you with it. The suction pulls you down. Or something like that, I think." It had something to do with a Charlie or Eddy or some name like that, too, but she wasn't sure what. Suddenly she paused. "Umm, do you have any wood to knock on?"

"You don't believe that bloody superstition, do you? And if you knock on wood, you're daring it to happen."

"Are you sure? I think it's if you don't want it to happen you knock on wood." Her tone clearly stated that she believed her theory was right and his was wrong, and she'd fight to the bitter end under the idea that it was.

"No," Ash growled. "You're wrong."

"You are!"

"Pika ka!" Pikachu snapped. Dammit, it was dark, she was cold, so couldn't they just not argue for a few minutes! And who cared what knocking on wood had to do with anything. Although, Pikachu was pretty sure Shamin was right, this time, but she'd side with Ash.

"Are you sure we're swimming the right way?"

"We're swimming up-stream!"

"Just checking!"

Ash sighed. Damn, he should be able to walk on the ground now. Suddenly, he felt suction from the water. What? Don't tell me Shamin was right?! he thought wildly as he was pulled down.

"I tol—!" Shamin's screech was cut off from his ears and he went down, and water was level with her mouth.

He felt Pikachu fly past him, and he wildly grabbed the water in the darkness to grab her, but missed. Rocks suddenly jutted out from all sides, slamming into him from all directions. One hit his temple, and he remembered blackness.

****

Pyro drank from the water, then watched as it flowed into the cave, too lazy to go ask for a bit of the bottled water Miriam got especially for him. What kind of idiot went into a cave like this? Well, by "like this", Pyro meant any cave, in general, that wasn't lighted with electric lights and had handrails and other conveniences such as that. Pyro had been in the other sort of caves, in the pursuit of supper, and they hadn't been that much fun. They had, in fact, been dank, dirty, cramp, and wet.

Pyro didn't like those kinds of words.

He twitched his ears, trying to hear if he could hear the four suicidal idiots. He couldn't. Pyro gave a fox shrug and climbed up a tree to lounge on an overhanging branch and gaze at the water. He could hear Miriam sunning herself. Yes, he meant hear, because Miriam was humming under her breath and listened to Blondie's MP3 player, which she was currently, and had been for the past three weeks, "borrowing". Ash still didn't know, and thought he had left it at a hotel they been residing at. At every chance, she downloaded more songs for it and saved them in her Pokédex under the title of "Pokémon Thingies". (Ash was very impressed with the size of the file, actually believing Miriam was taking notes, the idiot.)

Yawning, he stretched and curled himself, letting his tails hang lazily in the slight breeze.

Sometime during his rest, Pyro became aware that he was falling, and that his tails were suddenly wet. With a start he jerked up, and noticed grimly that he was entering the cave. Pyro snorted bitterly, carefully balancing on the branch so as not to fall in and get wet. He couldn't get wet. Getting wet, getting soaked in cold water, was bad. He got sick and couldn't blow fire properly.

Growling, Pyro spat. Well, he wasn't going call for Miriam. She wouldn't hear him anyway. All he had to do was float down until he reached Blondie and Shamin. And they would carry him back. Yep, that's what he'd do.

The branch rolled slightly, and Pyro almost whined when he nosed in. He didn't because he thought someone might hear.

****

Shamin sputtered as she broke surface, efficiently spitted out of the underwater tunnel. Trigger was splashing in the water around her, whining about his bruise. Shamin could whine, too. Her arm must have been thrown out of its socket. Oww-ie!

"Pi-pika!" Pikachu sputtered, bobbing in the water on Ash's pack like some crude buoy. "Chu-chu-ka!"

"Where's Shan?" Shamin demanded, surprised to see that her feet, or at least her tiptoes, could get a purchase.

"Ka!" Pikachu whined.

"Pikachu!" Shamin scolded, looking around frantically. Unfortunately, she was not a lifeguard, but she found Ash. And thankfully Trigger had found him first and was swimming towards a shore with the boy in tow, whining incessantly. And Shamin saw why, seeing the wound and water turning red by his crown.

Pikachu leaped from her boat and started mouse paddling over sloppily, and Shamin made it over next to him in a second, helping the puppy drag the body—she shouldn't think of him that way!—to the shore.

"Dammit, Shan, don't you dare die on me!" she panicked, kneeling next to him to see inspect the wound and current condition of the boy. Damn, at least he was breathing! "Go away, Trigger!" she scolded, pushing the puppy away with more force than Shamin really meant.

Trigger sat on his hunches, whining.

"Pikapi!" Pikachu cried, running over, ready to shock him awake.

"DON'T! You'll electrocute him!" Shamin screeched, slipping off her vest to wrap it around Ash's head and put pressure on the side. Pikachu looked panicked, worriedly nuzzling her Trainer.

"Pi?"

"I'm sure he'll be fine," Shamin smiled sickly, giving her one of the false-smiles people learn to hate at hospitals where doctors have to give a diagnosis as she slipped of her pack and started to dig for her Pokémon medical kit and get out the bandages. "It's okay, Trigger." She wrapped one arm around the puppy.

Shamin wasn't sure if you could wake someone up who had been knocked out. Was it safe, or whatever? She wasn't some doctor or nurse or intern or medical student. I mean, you weren't supposed to wake sleepwalkers, but was this the same thing? Medically, she was just some idiot who was traveling with an idiot. In any case, it was probably best to let him come out of it on his own. She brought her legs up to her chin and looked around the area. She just had to wait . . .

Oh, God, not that . . .

Now that her attention wasn't 100% focused on Ash, Shamin could see that they were still in a cave, one that almost matched her original idea of what caves should look like, and it was still cold. She hadn't noticed until now, but it was also bright. Dimly she recalled of some kind of cave Pokémon (okay, Shamin liked to flip through the Pokédex and look at the cute pictures) that made their own light. What were they called? Glow-In-The-Darks? Glowers? Umm . . . I-Glow? No, it was a really funny name that had nothing with the word "glow" in it. In fact, it had nothing to do with glowing, come to think about it . . . It was a kind of boat or ship. Ship . . . Shipozi? Yeah, that one was it. Now that she knew what to look for, Shamin could see the layers that made up the Pokémon

The water was crystal clear, so clear that she could see the bottom, should she want to look. The river ran along the edge of the bank, and as Shamin looked around, she could see half-finished buildings further away. They might have once been complete, but under the ravages of time, they unfinished themselves. Or maybe they never were completed to begin with. It was like she was on a road or path, or something, right to them as well.

The path to the Ossature League. (Damn, she was becoming a poet.)

But why the Hell would they make you go through a river to get here!?

Shamin shivered, looking over at Ash, trying to make sense of the League. Trigger and Pikachu were both nuzzling him. Maybe . . . maybe the river hadn't always been here. Maybe it just came up, which would explain why no one went to this League anymore. Maybe there was a sudden storm that caused the river—maybe there was a little trickle of a river back then?—to overflow and grow to be a big river. Suddenly, a picture formed into Shamin's head. What if the Trainers at the League were inside, couldn't get out? What if they . . . died?

Wait just a minute! the little Miriam mindset that Shamin had picked up screamed in her head. Who cared about those Trainers (Blondie did not count!)? They died a long time ago. Much more important questions were in need of being asked and answered.

What if they were going to die? What if they couldn't get out! What if they starved and had to eat rocks and dead things and gross things and . . .

Shut up, Shamin, she ordered herself, rocking back and forth. We are not going to die. Miriam would notice we were gone, and I have her good shoes. She won't just leave us here. Nope, nope, nope. She won't. So we're not going to die. Not going to die . . . not going to die . . . nope, nope.

Oh, God, who was she kidding?! They were going to die!

"This is all your fault!" she yelled at Ash, causing Pikachu to jump.

"Chupi pikachu chupikachu!" Pikachu scolded.

"Well, it is," Shamin wailed. "We're going to die, and it's all his fault!"

"Chu pika ka," Pikachu said gently.

"How are we going to get out, huh?" Shamin snapped. "We can't go the way we came, against that current."

Pikachu nodded slightly. Maybe they did need an Onix. An Onix could bore through the caves to the surface. Maybe there was an Onix down here? No, Pikachu decided, that'd be placing hopes a little too high. Just a tad, anyway.

"Gra?" Trigger whined, nudging Ash.

Pikachu touched his shoulder gently, shaking her head and bringing a finger to her lips. "Chu pikachu," she said hopelessly. Trigger ignored her. Believe it or not, Pyro got along better with the puppy than she ever did or could. Maybe it was a Fire brother thing or a Guy thing or something (maybe the fact that if he didn't listen to the fox, Pyro would give him painful punishment?), but Trigger only listened to her when Ash was around or when he wanted to. Actually, that was pretty much the same difference.

Ash wasn't unconscious for long. With a groan and a cough, he fluttered his eyes open, then gagged up a few gulps of water. Attempting to get up would be impossible, as both of the Pokémon were holding him down. "I'm all right!" he smiled, then winced as his head throbbed when he sat up, arm blocking Trigger's tongue.

"You're not dead!" Shamin yelped, grabbing his roughly by the shoulders.

He blinked blearily at her. "Should I be?"

She frowned, pushing him back. "It probably would save me the trouble," she screamed. "We're going to die down here anyway!"

"Oh, come on," he said, touching the wrapping around his head gingerly. "We're not going to die. Obviously the river runs through the caves, so we can exit out the river that way."

"And we'll survive that?"

"Well, you can stay down here then," Ash muttered off-handedly, looking around the gigantic cave. "It doesn't look that big from the outside."

"We're probably a few more feet underground," Shamin growled.

Ash grinned. "But, on the bright side, we're here. Ossature."

"Do you really think anyone here can battle with you? They're all dead!"

"How do you know?" he asked suspiciously. "Maybe they have a back way out of the caves, huh? Didn't think of that, did you? You always jump to conclusions."

"And you don't?" Shamin snapped. "You're 'jumping to the conclusion' that they are still alive. Well, call me cynical, but I think my theory has a better chance of being right."

Ash frowned. "The only way we're gonna find out is if we go to the . . . um . . . buildings," he finished vaguely, unsure if the buildings were once temples or centers or battlegrounds.

"I bet I'm right," she stated as they walked, Pikachu riding on Trigger.

He growled. "I bet not."

Shamin smirked. "How much you wanna bet?"

Ash smirked. "All right. I say . . ." He paused, thinking for a moment. "You have to carry Miriam's and my packs if I'm right."

She sputtered. "I'd have to carry all three?!" Miriam did not believe in packing lightly, which is why Ash was getting semi-decent muscles. And, if she lost, she'd have to carry everyone's packs.

"Deal?" he asked sweetly.

"Fine. And if I win, you have to, have to . . . um . . ." It had to be something really good. Miriam could think of one, but Shamin's brain was blank. Something he really didn't like to do, or something that could better her current lifestyle. But what?

"Well?"

"I thinking! All right, you have to"—Something he hates, something he hates, something he won't do without being drunk—"give Pyro a bath!" she finished proudly.

"What?!" Ash yelped, already imagining the hospital bed he would be lying in.

"Well?" she asked, batting her eyes.

He gritted his teeth and stuck out his hand. "Deal."

She took it. "Deal."

"Do you want to start carrying my pack?" Ash asked sweetly, holding out the dripping mass.

"You haven't won yet, Bucko," Shamin countered. Oh, God, I better not lose. "I do have some lilac-scented shampoo for you to use."

"Ha ha." Oh, God, I'd better not lose.

Pikachu looked over her shoulder, wondering which one was going to lose.

****

"What is it?" Shamin asked, peeking in the crack.

"Jeez, give it some breathing room!" Ash sighed, pulling her way. "It's a Cubone."

"It's cute!"

Ash made no comment. Shamin thought Pyro was cute, as did Miriam (obviously). Of course, he thought the fox was cute, provided he wasn't angry or annoyed, pissed or peeved, hungry or homicidal, bored or bastard, stubborn or sadistic, defending property and/or pride, or basically in one of his many "moods". It would probably be a shorter list to say when Pyro looked "cute" under Ash's critique.

Maybe never? No, when Pyro was asleep, he was almost cute. When he was far, FAR away, he was the possibly cutest.

Of course, Ash really didn't gage Pokémon by cuteness. That was girls' territory.

"Can you make it come out?" Shamin asked hopefully.

"Leave it alone," he sighed. "They're very shy."

"I think you scared it."

Ash looked at her with wide eyes. "I scared it? Excuse me, but weren't you the one who was yelling at the thing to stop running away? And then Trigger probably scared it to death when he barked and growled at it." Ash grinned, looking at the puppy, which was still recovering from the bump he received from the Bone Club.

"It didn't have to hit him," Shamin sniffed. "It probably isn't a very nice Pokémon if it hits defenseless Pokémon."

"Trigger isn't defenseless."

Shamin glared at him, giving the puppy a comforting hug. "He's just a puppy, Shan."

"So is every other Growlithe, Shamin. And I reckon that Cubone wasn't the oldest either, otherwise it probably would have attacked more than it did. Probably not very experienced."

"Don't you even care that Trigger got hurt?"

Ash looked at her speechless for a moment. "Of course I do! But it's not that big of a deal!"

"I'll hit you on the head and see how big of a deal for you!" she growled, standing and turning curtly to walk back towards the building. Trigger, after sniffing where the Cubone was still hiding, bounded after her.

"It's not like he's making that big of a deal about it," Ash sighed, shaking his head. "What do you think, Pikachu?"

She shrugged from her perch on a rock, listening to the Cubone scramble inside. "Chu pikachu Chupi."

"Yeah, I guess she is. And she babies him too much. Come on, let's catch up," he sighed, holding out his arms to allow Pikachu to leap into them. With a grin, she leaped and scampered onto his shoulder.

"Pika!" she called, waving good-bye to the just peeking out Cubone. It shrank back into the crack. She shook her head sadly.

By the time they caught up with Shamin, she was standing with her hands on her hips at the base of some stairs, studying the building with great care. Trigger was toying with a round rock, rolling it like a ball and hurting his teeth every time he bit into it. Obviously, he had yet to figure out that the pain would stop if he stopped, but, as Miriam pointed out, that puppy was really dumb on some points. She had, in fact, been comparing the pup to her two traveling companions.

"Looks like they were doing some remodeling, and then just left," Ash said, looking at the half-finished skeletal framework that stuck out like very bones of the building.

Shamin gave in a cold stare. "Remodeling every building?" she asked tightly, waving a hand to indicate the rest of the building, three, that were in the same condition. "Usually you finish one building, and then move to the next."

"Well, what do you think?" Ash snapped.

"Ooh, he asks for my opinion," she sneered. "I don't know, though."

"Should I be surprised?"

"Bastard."

There was the silent war of stares between the two, showing that neither was going to back down and clearly stating that it was the other person who started this all, so he or she had better apologize before things got ugly.

"Pi ka," Pikachu groaned, holding her head. Jeez, what was with these two? Could they just not fight? They never acted like this, or at least as bad. Then she twitched her ears, hearing something behind them.

"You know, I think I win the bet," Shamin stated. "Everyone's dead."

"I don't see any skeletons," Ash growled. "So they got out."

"Died."

"Got out."

"Pikapi," Pikachu started, tapping Ash's head.

"They died."

"Escaped."

"Pikapi?"

"Dead!"

"Alive!"

"Pikapi!"

"Actually, you're both right," chuckled a voice behind them. The two feuding teens whirled, seeing a pale lanky boy with wild red hair and more freckles than on a dot-to-dot puzzle studying them with mild amusement, while a young girl, presumably his sister by the similar facial and hair features, petted Trigger. "The Ossature Sectional was flooded in decades ago by a long storm, so my Da says, anyway. Says, 'It rained 'most a week, maybe two!'" The boy shook his head hopelessly. "He negated to mention that Ossature was always flooded, according to Grandma, except that's when the pools started coming in with a bit more force since the water level got deeper."

"Really?" Shamin started. "And you live here?"

The boy smirked. "Of course not, silly."

"I told you they had a back door," Ash muttered arrogantly. Shamin side-kicked him in the knee.

"Any idiot can get out of the caves. Of course, alive is another story." The boy grinned devilishly.

"And how do you get out?" she asked.

He grinned wider. "And who do I have the pleasure of meeting?" he asked, bowing.

"I'm A—Shan," Ash introduced, forcing his alias out. Damn, he had to get around to telling them what his real name was. This was like the third time this week he almost slipped. Ash mentally shuddered, imaging the pain he'd go through when his friends found out on their own. Neither girl liked being lied to, or made a fool of. "And this is Shamin. And Pikachu," he added when Pikachu tapped his head in reminder.

"And this is Trigger," Shamin put in, kneeling next to her puppy and petting him as well. "Who are you?"

"Brighid," she grinned. "He's a very nice puppy!"

"And I'm Oliver," her brother stated. "So what are you people doing down here?"

"Wasn't swimming," Shamin muttered.

"I'd like to compete in Ossature," Ash stated.

"If it's still run," Shamin added slyly.

Oliver raised an eyebrow at the silent War of Glares that waged between the two. "Of course it is. On a good month, on average, we get two people to come here!" He sounded proud.

"And on a bad month?"

"We get two dead bodies, or we get no one. I don't know which is worse, though."

"Well, at least we came on a good month," Ash smiled. Then he paused. "Two people a month?" Oliver nodded. "But I thought . . . well, I thought no one knew about this League." Did everyone know about these Leagues?!

Oliver shrugged. "It's not so much that they know, but that someone tells them. My Aunt and Uncle usually go out to find someone and talk about The Legend. WOooooo. Hey, we have to keep the League running somehow," he said defensively when the two Trainers looked at him.

"Sounds like a family-run League," Shamin put in.

At that, Oliver looked peeved. "No. We're just the caretakers. I'm not even qualified for Trainer status here, by the old standards. Something about going from caretaker to Trainer, going through all the proper steps. Ma and Da won't even let me go train in Violet or Navy-Blue or whatever color that League was, and even they say I could win because it's so easy."

"I think it's Indigo."

"Like I care," he spat. "It's a joke of a League, anyway," he muttered.

"Is not!" Ash countered hotly.

"I take it you're from there?" Oliver asked snidely.

"You be nice, Oliver!" Brighid scolded. "Da and the Council won't want to hear you speaking like that to a Trainer!"

"He's not a Trainer here," her brother said coldly. "And she's not a Trainer anywhere."

Shamin snarled at him.

Brighid glared at her brother. "She's got a pretty Growlithe, and they're hard to train."

"He's young," Oliver said dismissive. "And look how inattentive he is. Doesn't even move when I snap my fingers. Poorly trained, definitely."

"That's because, jerk, he's deaf!" Shamin snapped, leaping up and jumping to strangle Oliver for insulting her pet. "Which is a lot better off than what you'll be when Shan'll let go of me!"

"Jeez, he didn't—"Ash stopped when an elbow greeted his cheek, stars erupting his the back of his brain. "What is your problem!"

Shamin huffed, straightening her shirt. "You!"

Oliver tilted his head. "You two aren't related, are you?"

"You're disgusting," she snapped.

"I suppose you'll want to clean up," Oliver sighed, indicating Ash's brow. "And dried up. Ossature isn't the most difficult League, so you shouldn't be here too long, provided you have some common sense."

"We're gonna die," Shamin sneered.

"Look who's talking," Ash growled.

Oliver shifted his gaze between the two, then shrugged. "Brighid, you take Shamin to get cleaned up, and I'll take Shan, as he's the one competing. I assume." He looked curiously at Shamin.

"Won't dream of it," Shamin snipped.

"Ignore him. He's just mad cuz he didn't get Rank," Brighid advised with a smile, taking her hand. "Cuz he's not good enough."

Oliver's face turned as red as his hair. "Shut up, Twerp!"

The girl stuck her tongue out at her brother. "I can give you a tour!"

"Of what?" she muttered, signing to Trigger to follow.

"Come with me," Oliver ordered to Ash, starting to walk in the opposite direction.

Ash looked at Pikachu, then shrugged. "Well, we're here, at least." Then he grinned. "Ready to win?"

"Pika!"

****

"And this," Brighid said triumphantly, "is the Pokémon Center. We have a Chansey!" Then she paused. "She's with Ma, cuz Patellacoon broke her knee. Again"

Shamin blinked, looking at the small room. It was, well, "empty" would be a word to use. So would "ancient" and "under construction." One wall looked like prison bars from the visible supports. Half of the room was finished, painted, tiled, and whatever-ed that made a room complete. The other half wasn't. "A Patellacoon?" she repeated dumbly.

"It's several levels down. The Pokémon cannot leave here, not the Ground variety or Skeletal. You have to swim out, and the water isn't good for them. And the Pokémon here, the wild ones, aren't allowed into Pokéballs. They were outlawed because we didn't want collectors collecting our Pokémon. Skeletal are only found here, for the most part, in such large numbers, anyway. So Chansey is with Ma in some of the deepest caverns. It takes a week to get down there, and back up. We won't know if she died, either," the girl finished solemnly.

"Levels?"

"Ossature has many levels, most of them difficult to get to because of the cave-in years ago. Of course, people do live down there. I do. There's more light."

"I thought you . . . lived outside?" Shamin questioned.

Brighid looked at her curiously. "Then how would we know when someone comes? We leave, yes, but we live down there."

"Oh." Ossature sure is whacked out, she thought.

Something crashed in the back, which caused Trigger to come racing innocently out. He knew that if something fell and broke, it was best to get as far away as possible. He was holding a bone in his jaws.

"Sorry," Shamin squeaked, afraid of the mess. Trigger did not make small messes.

Brighid shrugged. "It doesn't matter. Come on. I'll show you the Hall."

As they walked out, Shamin looked at the buildings like a true tourist. "Umm, Brighid, why aren't any of the buildings finished?"

"They are finished."

"They are?"

"They are perfectly livable. We can set up forcefields to regulate conditions. Like in the Center." Brighid looked at Shamin's confusion. "Have you ever been to other Leagues?"

"Sort of?" Did just standing on the outside count?

"Each League has a trademark-sort of look. Maybe it's the colors or the location. This is Ossature's. It's just like what kind of Badges each League uses, the operation and hierarchy. Each League is individual, and we express that individuality in whatever way we wish."

Shamin looked down the trail at the buildings. "I don't see this one."

Brighid sighed. "It doesn't really matter, Shamin." She held out her arms. "This is the Hall."

She stopped dead, face pale. "And what's that?" she asked shakily, pointing her finger.

The girl followed her gaze. "Oh, that. It's just a Tibuma. It's probably just hungry."

"'Just'?"

The Pokémon growled.

****

"So you're from the Indigo League area?" Oliver asked casually as Ash changed into some dry clothes.

"Yeah," Ash said slowly, tying back his hair. When had it grown so long? "Why?"

The other boy made no answer to why he had asked, instead examining Pikachu. "You train her well, obviously."

Pikachu grinned under the hand. "Kaa."

Ash smiled. "Thanks. Do you have any Pokémon?"

It was like Oliver finally could say something that he never had the chance to say before and take pride in. His face literally split into two as he reached behind his back and withdrew a deep-grey Pokéball. "Everyone says he's worthless, but I know Ossa could win anything."

"Ossa?"

Oliver opened the Pokéball and released a . . . creature. Ash blinked. It was all he could think of to call it. It was maybe only as tall as Pikachu, and it looked dead. It raised its skull-head—just like a Cubone—to look at him. But, as a Cubone wore the skull as a memory, this creature wore the bone because it was its head. The pale blue eyes looked at him, and Ash's stomach turned as he looked at the ribcage and saw the shrunken organs still beating, churning, moving, doing whatever it was they did. This creature—Pokémon—Ossa was just a walking skeleton of bones. What was worse was that Oliver bent down and hugged it.

"Isn't he marvelous?" the boy gushed. "I've had him over a year now, and Doxie and his groupie said he'd be dead in a week. But we showed them, didn't we, Ossa?"

The creature made a harsh purring sort of noise, leaning against the hand.

Ash gulped, trying to control his stomach. Ossa was not a pretty Pokémon. It wasn't that it was nauseating, not that. The bones were pure white and clean, but bones should not be able to walk around and look at you. "What . . . what is it?"

Oliver looked peeved. "His name is Ossa. Jeez!" Still glaring at Ash, Oliver continued. "It's an Osteon., an Eevee evolution, if you must know."

Pikachu walked over carefully, her nose bobbing. "Pika?"

Ossa backed against Oliver skittishly, burying his head. "He's shy," Oliver said defensively.

Ash nodded wordlessly. "I . . . just never saw an . . . an Osteon," he said weakly. "I didn't know they existed."

"Well, get used to it. These caverns are home to many rare Pokémon that haven't even seen the light of the sun for thousands of years, who only come from these caverns." Oliver smirked at Ash. "You think you've seen them all with that what, two-hundred, three-hundred, whatever-hundred that are registered. This world's a big place, with many people not living in all the places Pokémon do. You've seen a small fraction, and if you want to train to be great, don't act so surprised whenever you meet a new breed." He stood up. "Trainers use that to their advantage."

"Thanks for the advice," Ash said tightly. "So, how does this League work?"

Oliver recalled Ossa. "Efficiently. We win, you lose." He smirked, throwing up the Pokéball and catching it confidently.

Ash grinned. "We'll have to see about that."

"That we will." Oliver sighed, rolling the Pokéball in his hands. "There are four tests or challenges respectively, my choice. The first is simple. Even your friend could win. No offense meant." He grinned softly.

"None taken."

"Pikapi!" Pikachu scolded.

"What?" Ash asked with his air of innocence.

"Pika chu pikachu Chupi pikachu!" she reproved.

Ash looked at her with amused eyes and placed his hands on his hips. "I am not turning traitor!"

Oliver raised his head. "Turning traitor starts easily, you know? Just fair warning, Trainer." He looked at him with his green eyes seriously.

"What?"

"Pokémon training, as they say, says your problems are your problems." He tossed the ball and caught it again. "Records showed that there were these two trainer that had trained together since forever, and, well, one wanted to win so bad that he, or she, just left the other to die. The trainer might have even purposely sabotaged the other's chances of winning, if you get my drift. There are even records of Trainers abandoning their Pokémon to fend for themselves in the caverns against the wild ones that love fresh and tender meat. One even killed his Pokémon, his favorite, to win. Loyalty is bull."

Ash looked at him appalled. "You can't be serious!"

"Oh, dead serious," Oliver disagreed, rubbing the Pokéball against his chin. "I have seen it. Not that bad, I'll admit, but I have."

"So you're saying you're going to do that too?" Ash demanded. "Might as well, if you're saying that I'm going to!"

Oliver chuckled. "Me? No. See, I know my limits, my dreams, and my reality. I may want to travel to train, but I have no wish to go the distance like you do. Because, Ash, I know what will happen if I do. Because I've seen it, and heard it spoke like God's word since my birth."

Ash stood silently, running the words over his brain. "You called me Ash."

He sighed. "That is your name, isn't it? Just end the charade now."

"How do you people know!" he demanded. "Everywhere I go, they know! How?"

"Treat us like idiots, and we'll treat you like one."

Ash frowned. "Fine." Then he paused, thinking over everything he learned. "So you're saying I'm going to betray Pikachu or Shamin?" Oliver nodded. "Bull."

He shrugged. "Suit yourself. But you will, should your desire to win prove greater than your ethics."

"They won't."

Oliver looked at him, summing him up. "Haven't they already, Ash?" he asked quietly. Then he turned and looked away before Ash could question what he meant.

****

Shamin's eyes were wide as the Tibuma growled at them, then her jaw dropped when, well, the Tibuma's jaw dropped as well.

"The poor baby," Brighid said softly, yet in a very critical voice. "The ligaments are wearing down again. The Trainer should be watching that."

The Tibuma started to whine, pawing at the dropped jaw.

"Don't do that!" Brighid scolded, rushing over to get the jaw. "You'll scratch it, and what good'll that do? Now come here so I can put this back in place." The Tibuma obeyed, trotting over with a clit-clitty that set Shamin's teeth on edge.

It probably was a very bad situation change when Trigger decided to investigate, moving out from behind Shamin's legs, where he had been hiding. With his nose, he could smell Bones and the smell of Cat. He liked bones and chasing cats, and his mouth literally was drooling. It would have probably gone very bad for the Tibuma if it hadn't gone very, very bad for Trigger first.

"Kabutops, slash!" ordered a brash voice.

Shamin watched spellbound as a flying mass of brown erupted towards her puppy. "Trigger!" she screamed.

Trigger was just as surprised, but, after much, much much, much training by Ash and Pikachu (and he was still in need of practice!) he learned not to see what it was for too long, but to React! At the first breath of the breeze, he jumped and twisted his body aside, then landed in his attack stance.

"Whoa, shit! Where the Hell did you learn that!?" Shamin demanded, eyes wide.

The voice was just as surprised. "Hydro pump!"

"What?!" Shamin screeched. What the Hell was that attack! When she saw the spout of water escape, she figured it out. Dodge! she signed rapidly.

Trigger didn't obey, (he probably didn't even see the sign,) merely leaping up and over the spout and delivering a searing Ember attack, then landing smugly on his paws. It was a great surprise to him when he saw the attack didn't have the usual effect. But . . . but that always worked before!

The voice chuckled, and Shamin watched as a tall boy, older than her, with deep grey-blue hair step out of the shadows. Miriam would probably consider him handsome (but a "young puppy," as she dubbed anyone her junior), and, in the right circumstances, he would be under Shamin's eye. Yet not now, as he was commanding that . . . that to attack her Trigger!

"Leer!"

"Hey, back off!" she screamed as the eyes glowed. Don't look! she signed rapidly. She remembered that attack.

Trigger snorted and charged (something not ordered), head low, and got a savage hold on the ankle portion of the Pokémon. The Kabutops tried to slash the small puppy, but Trigger nimbly stayed out of the way.

Bark! Shamin signed, then quickly covered her ears. Trigger loved to bark, even if he couldn't hear it, because he knew everyone else could and gave him special attention when he did. (Well, except Miriam and Pyro, who usually made a special point to inform the pup that they did not like his bark.)

The yelps started incessantly, getting louder with each new one. And the walls echoed the sound over and over and over, magnifying the annoying sound.

"Stop that, mutt!" the Trainer yelled, covering his ears and bending over in near pain.

"Call that bloody thing off!" Shamin ordered, not hearing the boy's scream but wanting Trigger to shut up just as much as the rest of them.

The boy growled, but agreed as he held up a grey Pokéball and recalled the Kabutops. "Return!"

"Shh!" Shamin ordered, and Trigger silenced, looking very pleased with himself. "Why the Hell did you attack us!" she demanded, inspecting Trigger. He had been slashed and was doting over his Victory Scar.

"Your Growlithe was going to eat my Tibuma, bitch!" he snapped, rushing over to look at the Pokémon.

"You lost a battle!" Brighid screamed in near shock. "Oliver won't believe it! You lost!"

"I didn't lose!" the boy raged. "She cheated!"

"I did not!" Shamin defended instantly. She had? How? They actually had rules for a battle?

"She did not! You recalled first! You lost, Doxie!" Brighid said with twisted delight.

Doxie glared. "Just up, you Osteoma!"

She stepped back in shock at the term, and her eyes went wide, tears biting.

"Don't you ever call my sister that!" Oliver screamed, suddenly coming up with Ash and Pikachu. They had heard (it would have been hard not to) Trigger's barks and had come a-running.

"What's it mean?" Shamin asked.

Oliver glared at her, then saw she really didn't know. "Technically, it's a bone tumor, but here it's used—"

"It's for people like Them and their families!" Doxie spat with a smirk. "The weaklings of the League, the one's that can't be trusted to do any real care of Pokémon."

"Why you—" Oliver started, preparing to leap, but Ash gripped his wrist.

"Chu!" Pikachu gritted, holding his cuff.

"It's not worth it, Oliver," he gasped, then winced as Oliver bared his teeth. "Besides, I know of a better way. Just let him meet a certain little fox. He'd be glad to."

Doxie smirked, not understanding the possible danger to him. "Oh, he wouldn't attack me, because he'd lose."

Brighid suddenly jumped up to defend her brother. "I have to wonder, since you lost to her! And she doesn't train much! She even said so!"

"You won?" Ash asked incredulously, looking at her with wide eyes in shock.

"Pi?" Pikachu repeated. She looked over at the smugly sitting Growlithe.

"You two act so surprised," Shamin smiled, crossing her arms smugly. "Trigger did so well, too."

Ash's astonishment dropped several notches at that. "Trigger won, then, not you. Because, if I know Trigger, he, one, didn't check in, two, the amount he listens to you is worth a scraped penny, and three, you can't battle to save your life!"

"Oh, face it! I can too battle!" Shamin screamed, knowing he had probably been right on all counts. She had won the battle, dammit! "And Trigger did so listen to some of my signs, so there!" She stuck her tongue out.

"Some of them, then?" He looked at the puppy. "We'll have to work on that, then."

"So you train the Growlithe?" Doxie asked seriously. Ash looked up and gave a small nod. "You did good, then. Needs work, but it's a start," he added snidely. "So you're the Trainer that's suppose to want to battle?"

"Yes."

"He's my responsibility!" Oliver stepped in hotly. "I met him first under my watch, so back off!"

Doxie sneered. "Like he wants a loser Osteoma to test him."

Oliver paled, then started to turn red again. "He gets what he gets! You could have had him if you checked the—"

"Protocols, ha!"

Brighid stepped between the two. "He's right, Doxie! And you know what the Council'll do when they find out you let your Tibuma got in that shape, they won't be happy!"

"Shut up, you!"

"What about his Tibuma?" demanded Oliver.

"It's—"

Doxie glowered. "Say it, Twerp, and you'll regret it."

"Maybe you shouldn't make threats you can't back up!" Shamin snapped, advancing on Doxie. Then she gulped, suddenly aware of what she was doing.

"And you call yourself a Trainer," Ash spat, inspecting the Tibuma critically. Mentally, he was comparing it to Ossa. The bones on Ossa were far whiter and stronger, and while Ossa was nimble and zealous, the Tibuma seemed slow and lethargic. It looked poorly cared for in comparison to the Osteon. (Of course, Ash had to wonder if that was just the difference of the species.)

"What did you say?" Doxie growled.

"This Tibuma obviously needs some serious nutritional values met," Ash said coldly.

"I saw that, too!" Brighid nodded, hands on her hips.

The Trainer glared. "I suggest you watch yourself, Trainer. Tests here can be very dangerous, just as the Pokémon." Then he turned smartly, walking away. Doxie stopped for a moment. "And I hope for a rematch against that Growlithe."

Oliver seethed watching him go. "He only won because he used brute strength! If I had battled him, I would have won," he snarled, whirling.

"And why didn't you?" Brighid hissed. "You never even showed up!"

Her brother narrowed his eyes, opened his mouth, then snapped it shut defiantly. "I had my reasons."

"You were scared!" Brighid crowed.

"There's nothing wrong with being afraid," Shamin said lightly.

Oliver glared, clutching his Pokébelt. "Don't you ever think I was afraid!"

Ash looked at Oliver. He wanted to be great here, so what could cause him not to at least try? He cleared his throat, deciding he would ask Oliver later, in private. "So . . . how do you start here?"

****

Ash, holding a stalagmite, carefully looked down into the deep cavern, gulping at the sheer drop and lack of bottom. Then he looked over to Oliver, who, unconcerned with the height, was walking across the narrow stretch of rock that constituted for a bridge. It reminded Ash of walking on a balance beam, except that there was no one there to catch him if he fell. What made it all the worse was that Oliver was rambling wildly and walking rapidly across it, arms flaring.

"Are you coming?" Oliver asked irritably, walking backwards for a spell.

"Is there whoa damn a wider yeep bridge?" Ash asked, carefully stepping onto the rock and tight-roping across far slower than what Oliver had demonstrated.

Oliver reached the end and leaned against a rock, grinning as he watched Ash walk across. "Scared of heights?"

"No. Scared of falling, yes." His eyes never left his feet. "This isn't the widest walkway."

"It's natural. We never had the need of making another."

"Hasn't anyone fallen?"

"Well, that's a silly question," Oliver chuckled. "Of course people have fallen. I've fallen, but I was younger and Ma caught me before I fell too far. Won't walk across for weeks afterwards." He shrugged. "But you get over it eventually. You get used to it."

Ash nodded slowly, trying to raise one arm enough to keep his balance.

"It's easier if you don't think of it as being up a few thousand feet," Oliver said helpfully.

Ash risked looking up to glare. "Oh, please, just shut up."

"It does work. Did you know that if you take a newborn Meowth, where the eyes haven't opened yet, put it on a table, and then have a sheet of glass jutting out, that newborn will keeping walkin, um, crawling, whatever until reaches the end of the glass. But, it you take a Meowth kitten whose eyes are open, it'll pause at the end of the table. And, when he tried to jump down and see that 'Oh, I can walk on thin air,' his confidence will grow. He'll be so confident that he'll just walk until—Plop!—he falls right off the glass."

"How does that relate to this?" Ash questioned bitterly.

"I'm just saying that sometimes your eyes make it worse than what it really is, that they can deceive you." Oliver paused. "Oh, but if you do step off that bridge, you will fall. For a long time. This is not an illusion."

Ash pursed his lips, turning sideways and continuing the trip. His legs felt similar to jelly. "So where is this infamous first test?" He paused. "What is the first test?"

Oliver looked thoughtful, kicking away a stone. "It's not so much Tests, I always thought, or even battling. Ossature is more about building. Building the right team, building the right moves, building the right mixture of offense and defense, building whatever it is one has to build to be great. You must know that if a Trainer wishes to use Pokémon of a certain variety, such as a Water Trainer, on his or her team, there are inherent faults to be overcome. Water Pokémon are naturally weak against Electric, that sort of thing." He checked to make sure Ash did. "It's not that you can't be great with just one type on your team. Quite the contrary. With only the practice of one variety, a Trainer can focus his energy into training those type, get to know all of the problems and pluses faced with that area. It does explain why most leaders do specialize in a certain Pokémon type. It's probably a good hypothesis to state that the more advanced a Trainer, the more specialized the Pokémon type they use, because that's what they know. Take your Pikachu. I bet you know a lot of things about Electric because you use her so much."

Ash nodded without thinking, then paused. "I know about pikachu, not Electric." Then he paused again. "Why couldn't I bring her along?"

"Why should you?" Oliver countered. "All right, maybe you have a point. Pikachu over Electric—"

"How did you know I use her a lot?" Ash interrupted.

"She looks extremely healthy and well-trained, and since she's out of her Pokéball, she's very available in case of emergencies. It's all a matter of correct guesswork."

"Oh."

"Anyway, I considered that a total misinterpretation of Training. To train, one should know a lot about every kind of Pokémon. That's just my opinion," he added hastily. Ash found he agreed. "It takes most Trainers a few years to find their type, and most new Trainers start out with so many varieties because it's easier on them to win in a bind."

"What does this have to do with the tests?" Ash asked after Oliver grew silent.

"Oh, nothing, mostly. I was just rambling. I do that a lot." He smiled when Ash rolled his eyes. "But you do know that the Pokémon you choose could affect they way a battle goes. And not because of Type advantage, but the amount of training you do with that particular Pokémon. You have to build a really well-rounded—and don't mean by Type—team."

"Yeah, that's right. So you think the only reason most Trainers became top because they only use a certain type of Pokémon?"

"You have to admit, the majority. Your Elite Four—Lance in Dragon, Agatha in Ghost and Poison, Bruno in Ground and Fighting, Lorelei in Ice. And some of the more famous ones, like Prima, whose in Water. And even most Gyms specialize in certain Types."

"How do you know all this?" Don't get Ash wrong, he knew these common facts like everyone else, but he thought Oliver would be less knowledgeable, as he was from a different area of the world.

Oliver smirked. "There is another one of your problems. You don't know anything. If I told you there was an Emerald League—"

"There is?" Ash asked excitably, insult about not knowing anything forgotten.

He laughed. "You don't even know. Whereas I have been told of every League still run to present day, of every League that has stopped running, of histories and faults and advantages and Trainers of these Leagues. And not by choice. I have to know this stuff if I want to be a Trainer here. No one is going to give me a little Pokédex and free Pokémon to start out with if I can't pass Basic. No one's going to give me one if I do, come to think about it." His face contorted. "I don't know how some people actually pass it," he muttered.

"When do you take the test?"

"Oh, I passed that years ago, and I have a refresher every year. History doesn't change, Ash. In fact, Ossature is considered the best place for records of every League battle anywhere. I looked at some of yours before you came."

"Every battle?" Ash echoed, suddenly reddening at the memory of some of his. Oliver grinned, seeing the wince.

"It's a bit hard to get Indigo's, because they don't know about us. And we don't want them to, because, as of late, Indigo is getting into the League Network thing. They'd want us to join and share knowledge and Trainers."

Ash nodded. He remembered reading something like that over the Net back home last year. (Going over the Internet was the only way he could really keep up with Pokémon current events, and he could always claim that it was homework. Daily Life required that each student bring in at least one event a week to explain to the class. Of course, after his first experience, Ash refrained from speaking about Pokémon. Well, most of the time . . .) The three major Leagues—Indigo, Orange Island, and Johto—had just started a new worldwide League competition. While any Trainer could get into the three separate Leagues with the right number of badges, only Trainers who won in the top 10% of each League would be allowed to compete in the World Division. Other Leagues started to join soon afterwards, and now almost eight were participants.

(After Pooka, Ash had gone back to do more research on it to see if Gus was right about something he implied, about how some things are started only for the money. Ash had clicked in believing that the World Division had been started to challenge Trainers even more, and then clicked off in disgust when he read about some of the merchandise and stock profits the owners would be getting. None of which would be going to help Pokémon or Trainers, which were what they—under the very first line of why—stated their reasons were for starting such a League. He vowed then and there that he wouldn't be battling there anytime soon.)

Oliver had still been talking. "But, yes, every Gym battle you had, and then the competitions in the Leagues. The Gym Leaders are required to file a dossier about each battle they have so other Gyms can know about them. I got the information from Ratwa months ago." Oliver looked at Ash critically. "We thought you'd be here a lot sooner, to be honest. Doxie was on round-the-clock shift just waiting for you the first few months."

"I went to Pooka first," Ash informed him.

Oliver raised an eyebrow. "Pooka? No one's been there for hundreds of years, not since the last Trainer . . . well, let's just say the murderer was a little unpleasant." Ash blinked. Whatever could Gus have done to his Trainer? What had his Trainer ordered him to do? "I don't recall anyone actually running it."

"Gus does. He's a G—a Trainer there. The man at Ratwa told me to go there." Ash chose not to inform Oliver of what Gus was.

The redheaded boy looked perplexed for a moment. "Maybe I have to refresh my knowledge on Pooka," he murmured. "The man Gus rings no bells in my memory." Then he smiled. "Actually, I shouldn't be too surprised we didn't know you were heading to Pooka. Ratwa and Pooka were the considered friends in old times, didn't attend any of the meetings. They held similar views against other Leagues. It made them greatly disliked, if I remember. And they hold no wish in helping us in knowing about upcoming Trainers, because they are they to help the Trainer." He laughed sarcastically. "Aren't most of the Leagues!"

"Most?" Ash repeated.

"Some Leagues are a waste of time, I'll admit. And some, well, 'helping' the Trainer is not the word I'd use. They do, but I don't. Help like that means you don't need bother putting a rope around your neck when you walk off a cliff—they do it for you."

"Ouch."

"Hmm-hmmm."

They walked in silence for a moment, and Ash was suddenly aware that they were walking down a winding cave with many, many outlets. He had been following Oliver on automatic, going into certain entrances. If Oliver were to leave and tell Ash to get back on his own, Ash would have been so screwed royal.

(Now which Trainer was it that said I had to pay attention? Ash idly wondered.)

"So . . . where is the test?" he asked, repeating his earlier question.

"'What is the test?' 'Where is the test?' Are you always this curious?" Oliver teased.

Ash spoke bluntly. "Yes."

"'Curiosity killed the Meowth,'" quoth the boy wisely.

Ash knew there was more to the quote that what most people knew. "'But lack of it would have killed thousands more,'" he finished smugly. Oliver raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, really?"

"Or maybe it was just that that particular Meowth was curious about a big old truck coming down the highway," Ash grinned.

Oliver grinned as well, shaking his head. "Maybe, or, it this case, about falling beams." He pointed up into the ceiling of the cave, and Ash followed his gesture. The blond-dyed boy didn't notice that Oliver's smile faded a notch.

In the dim he could see many protruding beams from the ceiling, actual beams of constructions, that hung like stalactites. A platform extended from several of them, making it like a balcony up there.

"That is incomplete."

"How can you tell?" Ash asked skeptically.

Oliver gave him the Look. "Up there is a poor Pokémon in distress. Your task, should you choose to accept it, is to get up there and help it." His voice was unusually grave.

"You stuck a Pokémon up there for a test?"

"That's sick," the Trainer spat, insulted. "That Pokémon—we call him Desbrisier—goes up on his own. It's safer for him. Almost nothing is insane enough to go up there after him." He shook his head sadly.

"But we are?"

"No. You are. I'm going up as well, but I'm not insane, because I'm using safety precautions." He withdrew a Pokéball. "You, on the other hand—without the use of your Pokémon!—will climb up."

"How does this help build my Pokémon team?" Ash asked insolently. "That is what this League is about, you said."

Oliver merely shrugged, gazing back at the platforms above their heads.

"I thought you League's actually started to battle!" Ash complained under his breath, glaring up at the height.

"I see no point in a battle if you can't even stop to help a Pokémon," Oliver said coldly, terribly cold, having overheard. "Maybe, Ash, the first few tests are initiations to prove if you are worth the time and effort from us for a battle. And I suggest you should get your priorities straight."

"Hey, I wasn't actually just going to leave it up there," he countered, trying to defend himself. He could plainly see that he had lost serious points with Oliver, points that would take work to get back—if they ever could be. "I'm not that cold. All I was saying is that the other Leagues—well, not Pooka and Ratwa—didn't work like this. You pretty much just battled."

"Well, in case you didn't notice, we are not like the other Leagues. We are better." Oliver's green eyes narrowed. "When you climb, don't grab the Shipozi. Or, well, grab them at your own risk. The light will dim, and it will be very interesting to climb in darkness, especially after the flower gives you it's departing shock." Then he smiled sardonically. "Good luck, Ash."

****

Shamin looked around the . . . um, café while drinking her cocoa and brushing Trigger. "Does anyone else come up here, Brighid?"

"Wanna-be Trainers here are on a rotation. It's them who deal with visiting Trainers, because it helps them practice against strangers," Brighid started, feeding Trigger a biscuit. "The Trainers, like my brother, have to come up here and check on everything. We make sure all the Pokémon are accounted for and in good health. Then they report to Council."

"What exactly is the Council? Are the best Trainers on it?"

Brighid blinked, then laughed. "The best Trainers! Most of them won't know a Geodude if it knock them on the head! No, Council is just an elected body that runs the town, but running the League is another responsibility. Of course, Josh Thomas is on it, and he's a really good Trainer. But he's so old he can barely move or see. Can't even eat hard stuff. Doxie said he wasn't anything, and Josh overheard. He can hear really well. They had a private bout—no one knows what happened—but when Doxie came back, he was pale."

"He lost?"

She nodded. "Probably. He won't even look at anyone." She kicked away a stone. "Oliver asked Mr. Thomas if he could battle him. He thought he'd really help him and stuff, and it'd be like an honor to battle Mr. Thomas, but Mr. Thomas didn't think he'd want to waste the time with him."

Shamin winced. "Ouch."

"Oliver thought so too."

"Do you want to be a Trainer?"

"No. I'm going to be a doctor, like my Ma. You get to go in the caves no one else wants to go in."

Shamin wondered exactly why no one else wanted to go in those caves as she sipped her cocoa. "Get down, Trigger," she said, signing it as well. Trigger leaped down and quickly vanished to go retrieve a bone he had found earlier. "So Oliver is a Trainer here?"

"No. He's just a Novice. Doxie's ranked higher then my brother." She sounded disgusted. "They had a test a few weeks ago. Oliver never showed up, and he didn't tell anyone why not. If he had a valid excuse, he could have had at least one match! Against his choice, too! But no-o-o, he just doesn't show up!"

"He probably does have a valid excuse, but it probably wouldn't sound to everyone else when he says it. Like 'the door got stuck' or 'I couldn't find my shoes.'"

"Those are not valid!"

"Validity is a point of view. That's what Miriam told me." Shamin looked at Brighid. "Well, what do you think his excuse would be?"

She opened her mouth, then closed it, looking defiantly at Shamin. "I think he just . . . he just . . ."

"Yes?"

"He was just a plain chicken!"

Shamin raised an eyebrow, sipping her cocoa. "Now, what do you really think?"

This time Brighid didn't answer.

****

Ash wished Oliver had taken his Pokébelt. It would have seriously cut down his temptation to use Bulbasaur and Chitorika to help get him up, especially whenever he slid. This was a near sheer wall to climb, and Ash looked down at the drop. Now all he had to do was jump to a platform.

Well, that wasn't all he had to do.

He had to make the jump as well.

Ash bit his lip, dimly remembering a conversation he had overheard from Miriam and Shamin after he had leaped to a fire escape when they were doing one of the few evasions from Team Rocket. (There were quite a few reasons for avoiding the cities, Miriam admitted.)

"He's a pretty good jumper," Miriam had commented as he and Pikachu got onto the other side of the railing.

"Yeah. I would have missed," Shamin'd chuckled.

Miriam then raised an eyebrow. "Shammy, you'd miss if you played hopscotch."

He did not always make it. Several times Ash had fallen further than he would have liked. But, over the course of a few years, Ash had gotten pretty good at judging and jumping distances. Of course, that did not mean he always made it. Sometimes he did miss. Ash just had to wonder if this was going to be one of those times as well.

He hoped not. He seriously hoped not.

"One. Two." Two-and-a-half. Two-and-three-quarters. Two-and-eight-tenths. "Three!" He closed his eyes and leaped. It seemed like forever before his feet touched something, and Ash bent his knees to absorb the shock. His eyes opened a sliver. "Yes."

"Maybe you should see how much you made it by?" Oliver chuckled. Ash looked up to see Oliver hovering in the air, actually floating.

"How—" Ash looked backwards as he spoke, then gulped. He had maybe three inches behind him. "Whoa, crap!" he yelped, jumping forward so that a few more feet separated him from the edge.

Oliver smiled. "That really was a great jump, by the way."

"Umm . . . thanks," Ash said weakly. "How are you . . . floating?"

"Psychic type." He held up a glowing Pokéball. "Pretty cool, huh?"

"You can command your Pokémon while they're still in a Pokéball!?" Ash asked incredulously. Damn, Oliver can do all that?

Oliver grinned. "My Da taught me."

"How?"

Oliver slipped the ball onto a special loop on his belt. "We are not here to discuss Pokémon training tactics," he said seriously. It reminded Ash of how Brock had announced a Pokémon battle. "We are here to decide if you shall pass to the next level.

"To make a good team, you must first start with the Trainer. A bad Trainer makes a bad team. A simple point that is accepted by many professionals in the field. Of course, as to what makes a good Trainer is a point that will forever be debated upon." Oliver smiled, shaking his head sadly, as he floated down so he was level with Ash.

"Okay?" Ash said, unsure. "So what do I have to do?"

Oliver rolled his eyes helplessly, then continued with his ramble as if Ash hadn't interrupted. "Traits that officials do agree on vary, depending on the particular group of officials ideals. Some think a Trainer has to be strong and tough, always training and ready, that Pokémon need training more than brotherhood. Others say patient and careful, slowly understanding their Pokémon and the obstacles, to be deep in the family ties. You seem to fall more towards the middle by your Training methods: friendship instead of ruling, jumping instead of looking."

Ash looked at Oliver critically. "Is that bad?"

"Do you win?"

That question surprised Ash, especially coming from Oliver. "Sometimes."

Oliver's lips twitched at the reaction. "Ultimately, you and your team are judged by whether or not you win, regardless of methods." He ran a hand through his hair. "But again I ramble, don't I? The whole point is that the Trainer does have to have some concern for their Pokémon, whether viewed as friends or objects, to do what is best for them." Oliver pointed to a platform. "You see that pile of rubble?"

Ash squinted in the darkness. Past a small bridge that connected the platform was, Ash thought, a pile of rocks. "Yeah, I think so."

"That is your test."

He turned his head to look at Oliver. "What? Where's the Pokémon?"

"That's your test," Oliver repeated, shrugging with almost forced neutrality. "Pokémon or not, it is your test." Ash watched as Oliver stood, his feet mere millimeters from the ledge, then started to walk. He didn't bother to follow the bridge or other platforms, but to take the straight, shortest path to his destination by walking over thin air.

Ash frowned as he started to follow by the long route. He didn't like the confusing ways of these Leagues. It was like they said whatever they wanted to throw you off balance, and that was probably what they were doing. Ash didn't like dishonest methods of battling. He didn't like dishonest methods of a lot of things, come to think about it, but in Pokémon battling, that was the worst. He thoroughly believed anyone found guilty of cheating should have his or her Battling License revoked without question. (Miriam had been very cold towards him after he released this feeling to them, and when Ash finally asked her what her problem was, she coldly said that they do not live in a prefect, black-and-white, right-and-wrong world.)

He stood next to the pile of rocks that Oliver was surveying with tight lips. They were a terrible off-grey color even in this dim lighting, and Ash thought he could break a piece in half with his hands, no matter how thick the piece was. He watched as Oliver scooped up a small rock and, with the lightest of pressure, crushed it in his hand. The Trainer shook his head in defeat.

"What's wrong?"

"Have you ever felt that all your efforts are futile, that whatever you do is just prolonging the inevitable?" he sighed, letting the fine dust slip through his fingers.

"Sometimes, I suppose," Ash said carefully as Oliver picked up another rock, larger and paler in color.

Oliver looked at him through the corner of his eye as he ran a hand over the rock. Now that Ash could see it better, he had the urge to back up. The rock was disgusting. It looked like it was flesh turned to stone, that it was once part of some grotesque statue. All it needed was maggots and it would have been perfectly stomach wrenching. The Trainer saw Ash's unconscious disgust on his face and smiled. Ash tried to hide it, he really did, but it really was bad. "What do you do when something is hopeless?"

"Depends on what it is, I guess," Ash shrugged, intently studying the surprisingly light rock at arms' length, rolling it in his hands. Even if it was disgusting, it was fascinating . . .

"Do you give up?"

"I don't like to." Look at this groove right here . . . jeez, it feels like the artist put a lot of work into making this life-like . . . God, it even feels like it should be alive . . . "Especially not with Pokémon. It puts a Trainer back a step, I think. A Trainer has to keep tackling a problem, even if he can't solve it, I guess."

Oliver crossed his arms, watching as Ash lifted the rock over his head to get a better view of it all. "Maybe, and maybe not."

"Wha—ahh!" Ash cried, practically dropping the rock when a layer suddenly moved aside to reveal two pale-yellow eyes staring vacantly right at him. He didn't drop it, although he came deadly close. He, in fact, had jumped back and almost slipped. The rock's eyes rested half-open, half-closed and suddenly it started to shake and quiver and it struggled to breathe in wheezing gasps.

"Don't drop him, Ash," Oliver said softly, a slight pain in his voice. Whether the remorse be for the creature or his reaction, Ash wasn't sure, and at the moment he didn't care.

"Take it back!" Tears were streaming down his face, first from the shock of something that shouldn't even have been alive suddenly gasping right in his face, and now to the fact that it was struggling to breath—to live—right in his hands. It was so cold . . . The eyes were rolling back. Don't mistake him, Ash was no coward, but the sudden experience shook him to the core as he held the thing as far away from his as possible.

Oliver floated away from Ash's hands. "That is your challenge, Ash."

"What?" Ash sobbed, horrified to see the thing looking at him with dead eyes that weren't even dead yet.

Oliver blended into the shadows, his voice quiet. "That is Desbrisier, Ash. He is over 50,000 years old. He was here when the caves just started to be formed. He is a Golem, a terribly old one at that. He probably holds the record, should that matter."

"What happened to him?" Ash whimpered, taking deep breaths to try and control his nerves.

He crossed his arms. "Golem have especially long lives, the older the larger. Sometimes a Golem gets so large it can't move. It's too large, too heavy, too old. Muscles aren't as strong as they used to be. It happens in the deepest oceans as well. A creature—can't remember the name offhand—builds its shell so big that it can't move, can't get food. It starves itself in its own home, its own protection. It doesn't realize this as it builds itself up. Its just responding to nature, and when it realizes it, it's too late.

"Desbrisier's been like this for many years. My parents used to come up and try to help him, but they don't anymore. It's hopeless, and they can't bear to see him die so slowly. Lore prohibits them from giving him a merciful death, drowned in water, but the majority of Council and Lore forgets that caves are water, that they are made from water. Not only do they kill him slowly, but they put him in pain and agony as the water condenses on his skin." Oliver shook his head.

"What am I supposed to do, then? Kill it?" Ash raged, and he felt Desbrisier—he was holding just his head!—shudder at the future.

"Could you kill him, Ash? Could you really put him out of his mercy?" Oliver asked seriously, dead-tone. "Can you kill a Pokémon, even to save another? Could you kill a baby bird Pokémon that belongs not in the nest that is it raised, that will kill the true chicks of the parents, that will eventually kill out a whole species of bird? Can you kill the helpless, tiny Pokémon as it twits in its foster nest, crying for food? I couldn't. I should, but I couldn't."

Ash admitted, to himself, that he couldn't either. He couldn't just kill Pokémon that was struggling to live, that had done no wrong. His eyes fell on Desbrisier, the tears falling. But could he let a Pokémon stay in unbearable pain like this, where Death would stop the pain?

"How does a Nurse Joy do it?" his whispered. More than once he had witnessed a Nurse Joy take in a Pokémon under her care and put it out of its pain, although he never realized it at the moment. After one battle that he had witnessed, not taken part in because of an age factor, (which Ash'd thought was the worst case of discrimination in the whole wide world,) flew through his memory . . .

The announcement rang true." And the match goes to the Yellow Trainer! A stunning victory!"

Stunning was right. From his vantage point in the first few rows, Ash watched the battle like it was all there was in the world. He had been cheering just like the rest of the crowd, although his cheers varied between the Trainers. It wasn't because he suddenly saw that the other suddenly had a better chance of winning, but because of the spectacular attacks they pulled off. God, if it wasn't for that blasted minimum age-limit of 20, he'd have been right in there.

He cheered as the Yellow Trainer, a tall redheaded, freckled woman, waved from her platform, her Politoed hoping happily at its accomplishment.

"Now that's a Water Pokémon!" Misty yelled. She had been cheering for the Yellow Trainer through the entire battle, for this woman preferred Water types over most others. "Someday my Poliwrath will evolve into that."

"Only if you Trade it," Brock laughed, knowing Misty would never part with the pumped-up tadpole.

Misty laughed as well, rolling her eyes hopelessly. "Yeah."

Ash smiled down at Pikachu. "Don't you wish we could have been down there, Pikachu? We would have beaten her!"

"Pika!"

"Get a life, Ash!" Misty chortled, smacking him playfully on the back of his head. "She'd wipe the floor with you. There is a reason for the age limit. These are experienced Trainers. You're not."

"I am too!"

"Cool it guys," Brock smiled, picking up his pack. "Don't worry, Ash. In nine years you can come back."

"Unless they put a maturity limit on it."

"Ha ha," Ash countered, looking back at the field. Someday he'll be out there, on the platform waving to the crowd, the winner. Suddenly he leaned forward against the pole as if to will himself to see further back more clearly. He could see a Nurse Joy and Chansey, no two (they blended together so perfectly) around the other Trainer, the Red Trainer. He couldn't see what was wrong, but suddenly a knot tied in his stomach. "Hey, guys?"

"What, Ash?" Brock asked, turning around.

"What's going on over there?"

"Where?" Misty knew the answer soon as she asked it, and watched as the Chanseies lifted something unto the gurney. The Red Trainer was fretting around nervously while Nurse Joy tried to comfort him. "Brock?"

Brock struggled to think of an answer for his young friends to calm their, and his, nerves. This battle was not any more dangerous than another battle, and he could see no reason as to why two Chanseies would be needed. In fact, the Red Trainer had lost rather well. The Pokémon did not seem to be in any terrible condition after their particular bout. No one else seemed to notice the commotion in background, as it was near the exit shrouded in shadow and everyone was congratulating the winner.

"I . . . I don't know," he admitted carefully.

The friends watched as the Pokémon nurses, Nurse Joy, and the Trainer left the arena.

"To the Pokémon Center?" Ash asked. So sue him. He was an ambulance chaser. (They needed rooms anyway.)

Brock, Misty, and Pikachu nodded. "To the Pokémon Center."

****

The trio carefully walked in, trying to act nonchalant. Of course, Ash lost it when he saw the Red Trainer sitting in a chair looking defeated.

"You're the Red Trainer, right?" he asked with almost uncontained excitement.

The man looked up at the boy through his longish blond-green bangs. "That is correct," he sighed in a clear Welsh accent. "Who are you?"

"Ash Ketchum. And these are my friends Brock and Misty. And Pikachu." The Trainer acknowledged their presence with a slight nod, but it was clear he was not totally interested in conversation.

"We saw you at the battle. Is everything all right with your Pokémon?" Misty asked.

The Trainer raised his head enough to look at Misty with a piercing gaze, clearly stating that that was the dumbest question ever asked by a non-blond. He bit his tongue though and did not release the comment he so wished. Misty took the hint.

"Sorry," she squeaked, avoiding his gaze.

"What happened?" Brock asked tentatively.

"I really don't know. He was fine until a few minutes after the battle. Started having terrible convulsions as we left." The Trainer suddenly looked terribly helpless and lost. "He was my first Pokémon, my first. My folks gave him to me when I was three. I remember holding his so close as a kid, breathing in the scent as his long tail wrapped around me. He was like a good luck bringer. Every since I started Training, as long as he was by me, I was never lost. Never."

"You lost today," Ash pointed out bluntly, then winced when Brock elbowed him sharply.

"I don't mean lost in the conventional manner, kid," the Trainer chuckled humorlessly. "Everyone loses. What I mean is I never lost by getting nothing out of what I put in. I never lost my way." Ash looked at him blankly.

"Oh."

"You'll understand. Someday," the Trainer added, feeling it was necessary as he studied the raven-haired boy.

"What did Nurse Joy say?" Misty asked.

"She really doesn't know." Pikachu hopped onto the chair next to the Trainer and smiled hopefully at him, and he responded by petting her ears. "Nice Pikachu."

"Thanks."

They were quiet for a while, the seconds dragging one like an eternity. The trio stood nervously, feeling out of place, while the Trainer focused on Pikachu.

"Mr. Orry?" Nurse Joy asked hesitantly, coming out from the medical room. The needle light was still lit up. "May I talk to you in private?"

"Yes, Nurse Joy." Mr. Orry stood up slowly and went over to the nurse also hesitantly, as if to prolong the inevitable.

The friends watched as Nurse Joy and Mr. Orry conversed in hushed tones. The Trainer's face suddenly contorted with unspeakable pain and sadness as the nurse spoke the condition and treatment.

"Nothing?" his whispered. She shook her head in defeat.

"He's just too old. It is for the best."

The Trainer gulped, then nodded, looking down. "I understand, then." He paused. "May I . . ." He didn't continue.

Nurse Joy understood. "Of course."

The two walked into the backroom.

Without any words spoken, the trio suddenly had a terrible fear upon them. Pikachu gripped Ash's leg, and he picked her up on automatic, hugging her tightly.

"Pikapi." Unlike the others, she knew exactly what was happening. Her ears were so good . . . too good . . .

The minutes ticked by before Mr. Orry reappeared, no emotion on his face, save his eyes. He looked so lost, so dreadfully lost, like he had lost the Compass of Life. He left the Pokémon Center before any of them could say a word of comfort. Brock and Misty seemed to have known what had happened, and, maybe on some unconscious plane, Ash might have as well. Yet, truth be known, he didn't know. He only knew that something terrible had happened.

Nurse Joy appeared a few moments later, her face devoid of her usual smile. "Yes. How may I help you?"

Brock, after clearing his throat, asked for three beds for the night.

****

Ash couldn't sleep that night, wondering what had happened behind the door. He wanted to know, but neither Brock nor Misty would speak of it. Seeing that Brock and Pikachu were both sound asleep, he carefully crawled out his bed and opened the door.

The hall was quiet and empty, and Ash carefully shut the door behind him. The floor was cold to his socked feet, but he walked softly towards the reception area, wary of cameras. He didn't want proof of his explorations.

Rarely did a Nurse Joy lock up anything that's value did not exceed ten dollars. Pokémon Centers were here to help people, and people knew that. They respected that. Team Rocket may try to steal Pokémon—which was why any room housing Pokémon was locked up—but they did not steal the money for funding nor the medicine unless it was to get themselves by. They never took more than what the Center would need to survive.

He wiped his hand on his pajamas before pushing open the door, looking over his shoulder to see if anyone had appeared. He walked in carefully, flicking on a light. Ash had never been in the Operation room, but it was what he expected, full of stuff that looked medical and expensive. Yet there was nothing that could answer his question, and he turned to go, until he was a door leading out of the room.

He was through it in moments, walking down a long hall. There was a room filled with Pokéballs in their clear break-proof safes, machines monitoring their health, and a wall full of drawers, each having a clipboard with the patient's status. Ash bypassed the safes and went over to the drawers. With his eyes, he looked over the Trainers' names until he was "Orry, Kyle." He took the clipboard off and struggled to comprehend the medical jargon of the Pokémon, but it was hopeless. The words were longer than his own name and even moreso unpronounceable.

Ash bit his lip as he continued to try and understand. He looked at the other drawers and their clipboards. Most, it turned out, were blank, but a few were also filled out in explicit medical explanations. Yet he truly didn't understand them. He set the chart down and looked at the drawer.

With a deep breath, he pulled the drawer open. A rush of cold air bypass his arm, and he looked inside.

A Furret, laid, set down ever so gently, rested inside. Its head was bandaged heavily. It looked almost peaceful. Ash gulped, turning away as he shut the drawer softly.

It was dead.

And he probably, for the rest of his life, going to remember those eyes . . .

****

In his rented room, Ash struggled not to cry as he started to understand everything, or at least everything that had suddenly come to light. Suddenly estimates of rough math and calculations of average life spans ran through his head . . . Pokémon don't live nearly as long as Humans, at least most of them. Battlers lived even less by at least five to ten years. Someday the same thing was going to happen to Pikachu. She was going to die . . . and not just Pikachu, but to all of them, his friends. Pikachu woke up and curled next to him, understanding, and allowed Ash to hug her as tightly as he wished

Brock must have woken up from his quiet sobs. "Ash? Are you all right?" he asked, tired but concerned.

Ash didn't answer, childish as he was. He struggled to hold the sounds back, pretending to be asleep. Whether Brock knew or not, Ash didn't know, for Brock didn't say another word and he never spoke of the incident.

****

Ash held Pikachu tightly listening to the report. Kyle Orry, Trainer, had died earlier this morning when a car—turning the corner in the dense fog that always plagued the ocean-side city—hit him as he crossed the road. The ambulance members said the Trainer seemed to barely know what had happened to him, that it was happening. The hotel attendant said that the Trainer had wanted time to think and would be back, just leave the door open . . .

Ash hoped it was not about suicide as he clutched Pikachu like a life-raft and clicked the TV off.

Oliver sighed, shrugging. "You know what I've always found interesting about society's Pokémon rules?" he asked, rubbing the Golem's head. "If you have a Pokémon under you ownership which is deathly ill, no chance of survival, is in pain, you are ordered to have it put down. And, if you refuse, the officials merely confiscate it and do it on their own without your consent. The one who kills the Pokémon has no charges brought up against them. Yet with a person, who is just as deathly ill and just as much is in pain, they'll struggle to keep that person alive. And the doctor or family or friend that ends the life, they're brought up on murder charges. So parallel, and yet so different."

"That is different," Ash said sharply.

"How?" He looked at Ash from under his eyebrows.

"You can't just kill people!"

"But you just kill Pokémon?"

"Wh—No!"

"So you set up a double standard?"

Ash didn't quite know what a double standard was. "That's just the way life works."

Oliver smiled slowly. "Because Pokémon are under us."

It was a long time before Ash responded, and even then it was slowly spoken. "Speaking for a society, yes . . . But I don't see them that way," he added in a rush. He couldn't see Pikachu as any lesser a creature than any person. She had just as much right to live as himself or anyone.

"How did we even get on this subject?" Oliver asked ruefully. "I come to show you your test, and we end up in a philosophical debate about Pokémon."

Relief washed over Ash. "You mean . . . I don't have to kill him?"

"What! NO! God, do you think I'd make you do a test like that! Doxie would, maybe, but dammit Ash! Me?" Oliver shuddered. "That's what you thought I was getting at?"

"Well, what was I supposed to think?" Ash countered. "You show me this guy and then spew out a Trainer's responsibility for a merciful death to their Pokémon!"

"I did not!"

"Well, your rambling did!"

"Well, sorry to give you the wrong impression! God, don't listen to me so much!"

"You shouldn't let your mouth go on automatic."

"Damn as Hell one to talk," Oliver finished angrily, taking Desbrisier's head away from Ash rapidly. "You open you mouth to question things you could just as well wait for themselves to answer themselves, to boast and brag about your minor Pokémon accomplishments. You're an annoying, nosy five-year-old fishing for a compliment!"

Ash's jaw dropped and he clenched his fists. "Hey!"

"Look! You wanna take the challenge or back out now?" Oliver interrupted sharply, through trading insults before they truly got started.

"What is it I have to do?" Ash growled.

"Can you do it?" Oliver challenged harshly, bitterly. "That's the question to be asked, Trainer." The title was spat from his lips so venomously. "And if you can't, what are you going to do about it?"

****

Miriam looked up from her magazine, watching as the sky darkened. She pursed her lips together, worry forming. Nah, they were all right. Definitely all right. What, she didn't have to watch them 24-7, did she? Don't answer that.

"Pyro?" she called lightly, sitting up. Her little fox didn't come bounding out. "Pyro?" Louder this time.

Damn, if there was one creature she didn't have to worry about, it was Pyro, but Miriam worried about her little baby. Well, he was probably out hunting or something. He was probably watching out over those two. Yeah, he was the kind to do that.

Standing up, Miriam crossed her arms tightly over her chest and bit her lip in worry as she looked at the gently flowing river and then the cave.

"What bloody idiots."

She felt very alone as she lit up a fire and settled her meal and nest.

****

"Where's Shan?" Shamin asked as Oliver strolled up, his face clearly stating he had other things on his mind. He didn't respond and passed the two quickly. "Thanks for the answer."

Brighid frowned. "He's probably thinking deeply. It's dangerous in the caverns, and he left Shan out there alone. What, you think Oliver's going to stay with him all night?" she demanded when she saw the look on Shamin's face.

Shamin was appalled. "It's his responsibility!"

"His responsibility isn't to make sure the Trainer survives! That's the Trainer's job! His job—"

Shamin jumped up. "You mean Shan could die out there?"

"He could die anywhere, Shamin, but the Pokémon team is only as good as the Trainer. What is he going to do when he's faced with an impossible task?"

"What task?"

"How should I know?" Brighid countered. "Ask Oliver. He's the one giving the test!" She sighed. "Look, there are four tests. Oliver can choose anything that proves the criteria of what each test is supposed to accomplish."

"And what's this criteria?" In the back of her mind, Shamin wondered if this meant that Oliver could give out really easy tasks—ones that no one would fail—for the competing Trainer. Would that be considered cheating?

Brighid sighed. "I don't know."

"Come on!"

She looked helpless and pathetic. "I don't know. I'm not under rulings of the League. Oliver is, and Doxie. And those two certainly have different views on how they'd give the tests. Just like everyone else who wants to be a Trainer here. The thing is, Shamin, they decide the tests, and ultimately what the Trainer learns. They decide what they think the aspiring Trainer needs to learn the most."

Shamin frowned. And what did Shan need to learn, except how to read a map properly? "Oh." Brighid nodded.

"Oliver takes that as a heavy responsibility."

Shamin nodded. Oliver seemed like the type that would.

****

Pikachu looked around the building, at the walls with their tiled murals. She felt lonely, having been left behind, and hence had ran off to actually be alone. Instead, she ended up babysitting Trigger, for the pup suddenly appeared and followed her. He had a bone in his jaws, and Pikachu wondered where it came from. Hopefully not from any Pokémon that would be missing it.

Gee, isn't that like every Pokémon here?

She sighed and studied the artwork. The pictures, although beautiful, made no sense to her. Maybe it was the angle at which she examined them, or maybe the fact that they were nothing important, or maybe because she was a Pokémon trying to understand Humans.

In the back of her mind, Pikachu heard footsteps, rapid and uncaring if heard. She turned her head off-handedly and saw that it was Oliver. A smile lit up her features, but faded when she saw that he was alone. Trigger, the ultimate friendly creature he was, bounded over to him.

Oliver literally jumped back, startled. "Oh, it's you," he sighed, petting Trigger. He removed the bone from Trigger's jaws. "Hopeless."

Trigger made a small attempt to get the bone back, but Oliver held it firmly. Pikachu wondered if he knew to which Pokémon it belonged to and planned to return it. The thought was soon squashed when Oliver turned and threw the bone far down the hall, Trigger after it like a shot.

The Trainer shook his head, chuckling softly. Pikachu blended into the shadows, watching him scan the area. Then she blinked in surprise when Oliver touched a box upon the mural and a part of the wall blended away. He walked in quickly, and, without a thought, Pikachu ran after him.

The wall closed, leaving no chance for second thoughts, and Pikachu found herself in a hall. The Shipozi lit the area well, and Pikachu could see Oliver rushing down. She followed, always careful not to let him hear her. The mouse was in awe as they passed over underground rivers, seeing what looked like miniature Gyarados, Goldeen, Horsea, and other numerous Water element Pokémon. Misty would have gone nuts. So enthralled with them, Pikachu let Oliver get several bends ahead of her.

Her sense of balance told her that she was walking down at an angle, getting deeper under the earth. Her ears and nose also told her that she was nearing other Humans. When her eyes saw them, she literally stopped in surprise.

It wasn't a very big community. No. Maybe once it had been, but now it was dwindled down to a mere hundred families residing in buildings and halls meant to house thousands. As she hid in the hall, glancing out secretively, Pikachu's slow demographic ability soon saw that most of the residents here were old. They weren't the age of her Pikapi, nor even Oliver, but the age of parents whose children would have left the nest and older. True, yes, a few teenagers lolled about, a few youngers, but they were of a small percentage. It occurred to Pikachu that this was a community that wouldn't be around too much longer. It didn't have the strength, the fire. As she sat, she saw her proof as well.

"Ye are not ta leave!" scolded a man to a younger man, gripping his arm. The man shook him off, easily defeating the strength of the elder.

"Lay off, Da. Eh ain't stayin in this tomb another day! And Eh refuse ta die here!"

Pikachu hugged the wall, watching the scene. Oliver had spoken of the poor condition of the League to her Pikapi, hadn't he? He must have. Oliver himself had expressed the interest, the desire to leave. It was only time before the restless generation would leave, and they seemed the ones who deal with the League more than the old ones.

Oliver? Where had he gone to? Pikachu squeaked in panic, unsure of how her presence would be welcomed her. At least if she was with Oliver, she had one who knew who she was. Her eyes and ears didn't pick him up, but her nose found the trail and she slowly emerged. Hiding under boxes and other objects, Pikachu ran until she found the back of Oliver entering a building across the way. Pikachu looked both ways trying to time the right moments as to when to run, but people kept milling past. Finally, in a fit of anger and frustration, going as fast as her little legs could caper, she ran.

There was a doggie dog—probably for one of Oliver's Pokémon—and she dove inside without a care. The difference in light surprised her. Outside, the Shipozi's light was like the sun. Inside it was barely bright enough to see the sparse furniture. It took Pikachu several seconds before she could even make out where she was.

"Pi," she muttered, jumping over Oliver's shoes. The boy had again left her line of sight. If she hadn't waited so long to cross the street!

"Ossie!" snapped a voice, suddenly banging her aside.

Pikachu shook her head rapidly to remove the stars from the surprise attack. Ossa stood poised, growling. (He doesn't look very shy now!) "Ka . . ." she grinned weakly, waving and lowering her ears to look less of a threat. Oi, she should have known! Here she was trespassing on another Pokémon's territory! Despite her friendly nature, Pikachu herself had defended her and Ash's home tooth and claw against unwelcomed intruders, and she could image how Ossa would treat her if she didn't do some hefty explaining. Namely, she was going to be a very dead rodent . . .

Ossa's eyes glowed brilliant blue. "Ossen." His teeth were bared, and Pikachu hadn't noticed previously how very sharp they were. Of course, many Pokémon had probably thought the same of her choppers.

She had no wish to fight Ossa, especially when she was the one at fault, because she would deserve everything she received. "Hello! Please, don't attack! I'm Pikachu! Remember, we met earlier!"

"That matters not here!" Actually, Pikachu thought it did (and should) matter here. She had always lessened her attack if she had previously met the Pokémon. Yet Ossa did not lessen his attack. "Why're you here?"

Pikachu put on her prize-winning smile and scratched her head nervously, a habit she had picked up from her Pikapi. "Well," she chuckled nervously. "I was following Oliver because I was bored. But now I think I need his help to get back to my friends. Silly, huh?" She had also learned to impress people with her stupidity, or at least feigned stupidity. It really was a waste of time to beat up an idiot.

Ossa snorted. "You are not supposed to be down here," he stated, releasing his stance. "You could end up dead."

She laughed hopelessly. "Yeah." Right, she added sarcastically.

The Skeletal Pokémon looked at her curiously. "I'll show you how to get back up. Master is sleeping."

"Gee, thanks!"

Ossa shook his head. "Come on. And don't touch me." He leaped through the doggie-door.

****

"Do you even know where we are?" Pikachu gasped as she climbed over a large rock. Ossa looked over his shoulder and glared at her.

"Do you think I'm an idiot?" he snarled. "I'm taking you out the back way, away from prying eyes. People here don't like trespassers, and fresh meat is always welcomed."

Pikachu really didn't believe him, under the prejudice idea that he was getting back at her for following his Trainer.

"And I'm not lying."

She jumped, looking at him in shock. "I didn't say you were."

Ossa turned his head and grinned at her. Well, he was actually always grinning, but his eyes sparkled a brighter blue. "Do you think I am merely a Skeletal Type without any other abilities except to fall apart? For your information, mouse, I have yet to fall apart thanks to Master's care. Not many down here can claim that."

"Really?"

"Most Pokémon here are, as you would see them, wild and ready for the capture. Easy captures, might I add. Throwing a Pokéball would capture two-thirds of them. But they are very immune to electric attacks, and are very hungry." He grinned down at her. "Fresh meat is a very nice treat . . ."

"Don't even try it," she growled, little sparks escaping her cheeks.

"Oh do shock away. It only makes the prey ever more easy to catch." He paused to scratch his nose with his paw, and it made a grating sound that hurt her ears. "I'm surprised you trust me. Maybe I have brought you this way so no one can hear your screams and attacks."

Pikachu glared at him, blinking her eyes ever-so slowly as she watched Ossa take his stance . . . and leap . . .

****

Ash head his head as he looked at the pile of rocks in front of him, covering his mouth and trying to think. How . . . how was he to do this task? It was impossible, that what it was, to help Desbrisier.

But Oliver knew that, didn't he?

"Have you ever felt that all your efforts are futile, that whatever you do is just prolonging the inevitable?"

"What do you do when something is hopeless?"

"Do you give up?"

What does he do, Ash wondered. This was an impossible task, there was nothing to be done. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. What, what did he do? Just leave?

Oliver said he could. He could do whatever he want. This was his test, and some tests don't have just one right answer, he'd hinted.

No, Ash shook his head, he wouldn't leave. Not because he thought that was the right choice, the one Oliver would want, but because . . . because staying was the right choice to Ash.

"So," he sighed in a quiet voice. The dead eyes rolled over to him again, and Ash picked up a body part of unknown location or purpose. "So."

The head rumbled in response.

"You know you're going to die . . . piece by piece." Even as he spoke, the part he held in his hand crumbled to dust without his meaning to. "The term dust to dust takes a whole new meaning." He spoke under his breath, covering his mouth, not to be polite, but because of the horror. Ash hated hospitals in general, hated the dying. Death was a scary thing to him.

Ash gulped, looking at the Golem.

"Well, if I was going to die, I know what I'd want." And slowly he stood up and walked over, carefully picking up another piece of rock. "But you'll have to help."

Desbrisier blinked his eyes at him in a way that Ash could only hope was a yes.

****

A clump of mud moved . . . growled . . . and sneezed. Oh, something was going to pay for this.

****

"You can sleep here," Brighid said, waving a hand to a room. Shamin looked at it critically. "I'd stay with you, but well, Lore isn't lenient on some things like this. Nor are my parents."

Shamin nodded, watching as Trigger jumped to the bed gleefully, chewing already on the blankets. She bit her thumbnail. "Do you think, well, do you think Shan'll be all right?"

Brighid smiled. "I don't think Oliver'd put him in a dangerous situation first task, you know. He's not like that. I'll see you tomorrow, right?"

"Of course. Good night, Brighid."

"Night."

Shamin slowly shut the door. It was dim in here, the light of the Shipozi blocked greatly. She sighed and leaned against the door. Maybe she worried for nothing. Shan was a big boy who could take care of himself. (Yeah right.)

"Knock it off, Trigger," she sighed, slipping off her Pokébelt and falling backwards onto the bed. She pushed her puppy away as he licked her face, losing her fingers in his soft fur. "Pity you can't track Shan, eh?"

Trigger raised his head, then suddenly started to bark rapidly, pawing at the door.

"Shh!" she sighed and moaned. "Do go to bed."

The puppy looked pitifully at her, then collapsed to the floor whimpering.

****

Ash looked at his handiwork, rubbing his forehead to remove the sweat. It wasn't very good, some of the pieces were missing, but it was the best. The pieces fused together almost automatically.

"Well," he sighed, collapsing to his butt in exhaustion. "I don't know what to do, you know. You are, sorry to say this, a dead thing living." He had started, over the hours, to speak more bluntly to Desbrisier, and he had the feeling that the Golem preferred it that way. He didn't like being treated as an invalid, fawned over and babied. He was tough and old. In his day, Desbrisier roared and even the Shipozi trembled. It was embarrassing to be cared for like this.

Ash yawned, blinking his eyes. He was tired. "Well, good night, Desbrisier."

Desbrisier rumbled in reply, watching as the boy closed his eyes and slowly drifted asleep. He had been waiting for this for ages, and the boy and inadvertently given it to him. The puny human thought he'd like the gesture. Oh, he liked it all right, he loved it. He was finally able to do it, finally.

In his day, Desbrisier used to crush humans under his heavy limbs and laugh at their squeals, twist his toes in their guts with glee. Once upon an early life, when he roared, even the Shipozi shook with terror. He terrorized travelers, most of which never returned home. And then he learned something called karmic payback . . . Suddenly, when he was old, unable to move as fast as once could, the same puny humans started to beat him with sticks and pelt him with rocks. For the first fifty some years, it was a minor annoyance that changed to a real pain, until one day he shattered. Pieces suddenly fell off, and there was nothing to be done for it.

The same puny humans returned, crushing his body with their boots, laughing cruelly as he tried to frighten them away, or tried to escape. But he couldn't anymore . . . Some humans tried to help, some did, but they were few and fleeting. They stopped coming soon after they found him.

Desbrisier narrowed his eyes, opening his mouth. He could crush this tiny, pathetic human. Oh, to feel the bones snap, even one more time, to feel the blood gush . . . but no, time was fleeting, very fleeting.

Once he was sure the boy was asleep, Desbrisier put plan into action. If not to live for living, if not for revenge, then for the Death . . . the Death of someone, mayhaps even himself. Desbrisier lived to die.

The more painful, the better.

****

Pikachu gasped, rolled aside, and watched as Ossa leaped over she had been into the shadows behind her. A soft scuffle ensued, and suddenly a sickening CRACK! With wide eyes, Pikachu watched as Ossa escaped the shadows, scratches across his nose and oozing pale blood.

"What . . .?" she gasped, softening in her stance.

Ossa merely grinned at her, rubbing is nose. "Fresh meat is very welcomed, even by those who should know better. Come on." He started to walk again.

She followed, closer than she had previously. "How did you know it was there?" Her ears, her nose, nothing had alerted her.

"We're of the same bone, Pikachu. I felt him."

"What?"

"Don't speak, Mammal, to question what you can't understand. We are nearing the exit," he said suddenly. "We just have to climb up." With that spoken, Ossa started to jump rocks.

Pikachu looked up before she too started her venture up. There was a tiny opening up there. Trigger surely wouldn't have fitted through, but her and Ossa would have little problem. With that seen, she started up, easily passing Ossa. She was made for such tasks, while the Osteon was not. It did not exhaust him, but it caused an uncomfortable pain. She paused and waited for Ossa on a ledge near the opening.

He was not out of breath as he stepped next to her, but he was not having fun. His eyes were a dark blue in color, and he gave a small shudder. "Something's going to happen."

"What?"

He paused, collapsing down to breath. "Someone," he said slowly, "is going to die . . ."

"What?! My Pikapi?!" she asked in panic.

Ossa shook his head, as if to clear away the thoughts. "I don't know! But I can feel it!" He paused as he stood shakily up. "I hate these premonitions. They set me so on edge."

"Whose to die?" Pikachu asked in panic.

"I don't know! But the death deals . . . Revenge, I think. Revenge." He shuddered again. " I must go to Master!" With that spoken, he leaped through the opening, but suddenly the sound of crashing terracotta and his angered yell forced Pikachu through the opening with haste.

"OW" she screamed as her head met the ceiling and she released a bolt. Yet as she rubbed her head, she saw she hadn't hit her head on the low ceiling, on the bars of the cage. In fact, where she stood right over the opening she had so entered by, and did not fail. Ossa stood growling, gnawing at the bars.

"Well, well," cooed a voice, and Pikachu jumped as bars suddenly slid under her feet and the cage was hoisted. "Look what I've caught!"

Doxie grinned at them. "What delightful bait."

****

Oliver floated up to the rafters with a somberness. What he saw would decide whether or not he would give Ash the remaining three tasks. There was nothing to be done with Desbrisier, his parents always said so. Desbrisier was a dead Golem standing, or crumbling, as the case may be.

He wasn't sure what would cause him to give the next task. Oliver had given Ash the task because he wanted someone to do something with Desbrisier, anything. Lore could not touch Ash in whatever he did, because Oliver had given the task, and Ash had to do the task. Was it his fault if Oliver never told him what the task was, left the end open for his own discrimination? No. And as such Lore couldn't harm Oliver, who would plea Giver's Silence and Confidence. It was only between the Trainer and him what the task was, no one else's.

Oliver knew all the loopholes through the Lore.

As he stood on the rafters, he blinked in surprise. The stones of Desbrisier were gone! Ash was sleeping, curled up, and Oliver floated over to him. "Ash! ASH!"

Ash blinked his eyes blearily, opening them to stare at Oliver's frantic face. "Ol . . .Oliver, what's wrong?"

"Where's Desbrisier?!"

"He's right th-th-there," Ash said in mid-yawn. He had perhaps fallen asleep two hours ago.

"WHERE!"

Ash was forced to sit up, and he opened his eyes widely. "Hey! Where'd he go?" he asked stupidly.

Oliver glowered down at him. "That's what I was asking you! Now what did you do with him!"

"I didn't you anything to him!" Ash protested. "I just talked to him a bit, and well . . ."

"Well, what?"

Ash rubbed the back of his head. "I kinda put him back together."

Oliver blinked at him. "You did what?"

"I put him together."

His mouth was slightly hanging open. His parents used to put Desbrisier together, but he never held long. No, never, but he always headed back to the city . . . or to the waterfall . . .

"Did I do something wrong?" Ash asked fearfully. "I didn't think he'd actually be able to move! I just thought he'd like to be all together, you know?"

Oliver waved a hand. "Don't worry about it," he mumbled, closing his eyes. The worst he expected Ash to do was chuck the rocks over the side, the best to stay and talk. Not this, not this . . .

So much for open-ended tasks.

"Come on, on to your second task." He touched Ash's shoulder so that the psychic energy flowed over him, and allowed both of them to float to the ground. "And please don't ask what it's going to be."

Ash's mouth snapped shut with a grin. "How about where?" he asked after a moment of silence.

"One day, that mouth will get you in trouble," Oliver warned as their feet touched ground. "Just like that head." He started to walk away.

Ash shuddered. It sounded so much like a prophecy.

****

"Where is Pikachu?" Shamin yawned, looking around the hall. "PIKACHU!"

She frowned when no little mouse was escaping and ready to run into her. Shamin turned to Trigger. "All right, pup. Find Pikachu!" she sighed.

Trigger took off in a shot.

"If Pikachu starts right above our heads." Even as she spoke, Shamin looked up and sighed with relief. There was no Pikachu there.

****

An old man sat by the waterside, looking at the fish and dragons that resided in these waters. Despite his failing eyesight, he could still feel the Pokémon. He rubbed his shoulder. Old wounds that never heal, scars that stand for the deeper meanings than the wound and battle they were . . . won in.

Josh Thomas sighed in defeat. By all nights and all days, maybe he should be dead. Had he the right to live with what he knew, with what he still allowed to happen, and do nothing about it? And yet, and yet he could not bring his heart to stop it. To kill, to end but what would be playful jests?

He sighed yet again, remembered the old days, the days of youth and vigor. He had always resided in these caverns—that had been his saving grace. He was tied to a League, and no League would destroy another so callously, even if the League Master did not mean it to be so, had only meant lark and friendship.

How dangerous power was . . . Josh Thomas shuddered.

Yes, tied to a League he desperately tried to save. Yet he failed. With each passing year, less remained, and he was not a young man anymore. If he was young, he could destroy many of the so-called Masters of many of the popular Leagues, even with second-hand Pokémon. Their titles were folly—they knew nothing of Master. Josh Thomas knew, and it was why he never took such a title. To admit such a defeat . . . was everything he learned that worthless that they needed the word Master to make them important? No, he'd stay the humble Trainer till the end of his days, days that were dwindling down to nothing.

He wondered where his resting ground would lie . . . the skies among the stars, or the ground with the hidden beauty? With the flashy, or with the down to earth?

The Trainers that train today. He shook his head. Easy pickings, terribly easy. They would feel the words, the promises . . . and then they'd feel the Death. Years ago, when Pokémon Training meant something more that what it did today, only the strongest would be called to accept the Destiny that was theirs to hold. Josh Thomas shook his head. He was young and fell for such words before, and look what it had cost him. No. But now, now the Trainers were so similar. You couldn't tell the promise of one from the gift of another.

Take the two here. One held the promise, and the other the gift. Both would lead to greatness, perhaps, but they were so similar now. Only the personality dictated the actions now.

For a third time, he sighed. If only to have his youth again, he would go to destroy such a source. Oh, but what a foolish old man he was! How could he do that! What poppycock! Brave words, terribly brave, but no one would ever carry them out! Never!

And then, part of him wondered, thought, pondered . . .

What would happen if someone did destroy the dangerous familiar? What would happen next? Was there a next?

He chuckled, then tilted his head slightly. Whatever was that noise?

He moved his eyes and looked to the ground. A bit of dirt was moving.

"Hallo, 'ere? What be you doing in caverns such as these? So deep? And you so muddy," he mused lightly.

The mud looked up and stared at him with blood-red and blood-shot eyes. It growled bitterly.

"I see," Josh Thomas smiled.

Suddenly the mud sneezed, sending a dastardly huge fireball at him. Josh Thomas didn't even blink or react when the light and fire engulfed him. The mud stared with wide eyes at what he saw, recoiling at the sight. He hadn't meant to . . .

****

"Trigger! I wish you'd slow up!" Shamin wailed as they ran through the turns of the caves. By now she was lost, and she really hoped Trigger did know where he was going.

The Growlithe had at least slowed down, feeling antsy. A soft growl was escaping his throat, and stopped as if shielding Shamin from something.

"What's wrong, Trigger?" she asked wearily. Then suddenly she screamed as a giant Golem started to thunder towards her, the ground shaking madly. Trigger barked furiously, and with the echoes and the vibrations, the cave started to collapse.

****

Desbrisier looked at his work like one would done a job well-done, and evil smile upon his face. He had lost precious rocks, but that wasn't important. Yes, safe, safety was what mattered, and it was ensured. None could get through that stone wall, and none could leave by this route.

He took a deep smell. Yes, he had not made mistake. The scent mingled with the originals, and he would not forget that smell. He would not do something intentionally that would cause pain for that owner, not with what he owed. But let's not forget. His plan was in action, and nothing must stop it, not even debt.

Yet it would have been nice to kill the girl, or at least the pup . . .

Desbrisier threw back his head, ignoring the flakes that fell, and gave a mighty resounding roar.

****

Shipozi, on their walls and nooks and crannies, shuddered.

****

Doxie looked at the mask of rocks that blocked his way with disgust, turning on his heel. Pikachu and Ossa growled at him from within their cage, but he gave them no mind.

How was he to get his vengeance on that twerp if he couldn't even get to him! He fingered his Pokébelt anxiously. Of insults received, they would be given back ten-fold.

****

"Oliver! Oliver!" Brighid screamed, running to her brother.

Her brother looked at her harshly. "Brighid! We are in the middle of a task!"

Ash looked at the young redhead almost as angrily, pausing from staring intently at the hole in the cavern wall.

Brighid jumped up and down. "You don't understand! There's been a cave-in!" she squealed in panic. "Shamin's in there!"

"What?" Ash cried, so sharply and in panic, jumping up from his couched position.

"Come on!" Brighid screamed, running away towards the cave-in. Oliver and Ash followed, task forgotten. The Pokémon breathed relief as its head escaped the nook, then tended to its eggs again, doting the little dears. Imagine, them believing she'd . . . she'd, well, whatever they were planning to do, she wasn't going to let them do it!

She ducked her head out again and saw a piece of meat. Hungrily, she gobbled it up.

****

They moved the stones with quiet, panicky haste. No one spoke, no one vented worries or beliefs. They just moved on a staggering automatic.

They were the only ones who came. Indeed, they were the only ones who knew of the cave-in. Of course, if everyone did know, they would still be the only ones clearing the way. The League wasn't heartless, but nor were they neighborly. The people would acknowledge that the poor girl was trapped, but under their rationalization she was not of them and was foolish to go into the caves.

Ash had instantly reeled back his hand, a Pokéball in his grasp, but Oliver had gripped his wrist. "It won't do any good," he spoke. "We must do this by hand."

"But the Pokémon—"

"Ash, for once in your life, listen when someone tells you something!"

He had, reluctantly, put the Pokéball back with such confusion and anger, then attacked the rocks, whipping them aside. His fingers and hands were soon bleeding, and they stung, but Ash gave them no mind. His head pounded at the temple where his day-old wound still remained fresh, and, from the exertion, had started to bleed a small trickle.

Who really knew how long they dug? However long it was, their clothes sticking to them from sweat and brows glistening, Brighid finally gave the strangled cry of relief when she removed a rock and found orange fur.

"Here!" she cried, waving them over.

The two men attacked the spot with the young girl, energies renewed, and within moments had managed to drag an unconscious Trigger away. Oliver took a quick look at him, pressing his body here and there, feeling the pulse. "He'll be fine, I think," he spoke finally. "Growlithe are tough, resilient. Come on, we have to get the others."

Within seconds they found Shamin, and Ash gave a strangled cry as Oliver pulled her out. Bruises were upon her skin everywhere, clothing ripped because of the jagged rocks, blood trickling in slow streams caked with dirt. "Shamin?" he whispered, collapsing to his knees and Oliver gave her a check-over.

She moaned painfully when he touched her shoulder, and her eyes fluttered open. "Sh-shshh—"

"Shh," Ash whispered. "You'll be fine, all right. Promise." He looked back at the hole they had been digging, where Brighid, too horrified to look at Shamin, was still excavating. "Was Pikachu with you?" A touch of guilt bit him that he wasn't looking for her, but he pushed it aside for a moment. "Was she?"

Her eyes fluttered. "Nnn . . ." She didn't finish. "Trigger?"

"He's fine, don't worry," Ash laughed slightly. She still thought about that dumb mutt even in her condition. Ash knew he wasn't one to talk, but it broke ice. "Don't worry."

Oliver leaned down at her. "What caused this?" he asked carefully.

"Big . . . golem?"

Ash froze. Could she mean Desbrisier? Did that golem do this? If he had, then this . . . this was all his fault.

"Come on, we have to get her to the Infirmary," Oliver said silently, kneeling down. "I'll—"

"No!" Ash said sharply. "I'll carry her. You get Trigger." This was all his fault . . .

Oliver near-glared at him, but didn't counter, going to get the Pokémon. Brighid was standing awkwardly, having heard that her task was pointless. Carefully Ash scooped Shamin up, wincing at her moans and started to follow the two Trainers.

This was all his fault . . .

Not just Desbrisier, but he took Shamin along, and Trigger. If it wasn't for him, Shamin would still be at the Tunnels, and Trigger . . . okay, Trigger could be considered better off, since he'd be dead. But what did that matter now, because they both could die. They could have died! Thanks to him.

His fault . . .

****

"It wasn't your fault," Oliver said softly after they left the Infirmary. Well, he had dragged Ash out.

Ash barked a cruel laugh. "Ha! That was Desbrisier that caused that, and you know it. If I hadn't—"

"Give up with the self-blaming, already. Things happen, you can't be responsible for everything that happens when you thought it. Chaos effect, Ash!"

"What?" he asked bitterly.

"Just because the Butterfree flaps its wings in the Orange Islands doesn't mean it's responsible for the storm in the Riversden! You can't be responsible if you do something pert to your nature," Oliver sighed.

"It still got them hurt. If they die—"

"Then they die," he said sharply. "People die, Ash, and just because you were with them doesn't mean you're responsible for their deaths. What you did in good faith isn't—"

"But it is, Oliver! It is my fault! They are my responsibility! They don't have any idea what's going on, so I have to watch out for them!"

"All the time? Ash, you're a Trainer, not a babysitter! If you're going to feel this way, you'd best lose all your friends, and then your Pokémon. They're going to die as well, you know!"

Ash shook his head bitterly. "I gotta find Pikachu."

Oliver gripped his arm. "She's probably fine."

"Probably?" Ash repeated sarcastically.

The Trainer shook his head. "That isn't the least of your worries. You still have to complete the Tasks."

"To Hell with the Tasks! Do you think being a Master means more to me than my friends?!"

Ash watched as Oliver blinked slowly at him, then smiled, shaking his head. "Come on, then. We can take a back way to that cavern. I figure Trigger was trying to trail Pikachu, hence why the mouse wasn't with them. She probably doesn't even know what's going on, probably dozed off waiting for them." With that, Oliver started to walk off.

"Hey, Oliver?" Ash said, catching stride. The Trainer looked at him sideways. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it. Just do me a favor and remember what you say."

"Wha—" no questions—"okay . . ."

****

Carefully, almost hesitant and totally against his nature, he approached the wounded. He felt near guilty. He hadn't meant to do that, really he hadn't . . . As if to prove the point, he sneezed again.

Yet what worried him, what caused amazement and wonder, was the death. Not a scream, not a writhe in agony . . . nothing. If he hadn't felt so guilty, he would have been insulted. That was a damn good fireball. Carefully he approached and sniffed the body, then growled when his nose was so stuffed up that he couldn't smell. He examined the corpse, leaping onto the lap.

It didn't look like the old man had actually died from the accidental attack. The body should be burnt to a crisp. It wasn't, and it was further insult to him. It made him look like an amateur. He shook his head bitterly, sniffing the face, then remembering that he couldn't smell. He hated colds. He continued to examine the corpse. He felt he owed the man that much . . .

Suddenly he heard the sounds of rocks and footsteps, of breathing and voices . . . and he recognized one of those voices. Blondie! He whirled and jumped down. About time! He really, really needed to bite someone he knew deserved it! (For what, it really didn't matter.) He did a sort of jig and made to run off deeper into the caverns . . .

It really was a dastardly surprise when something grabbed him by the nap of the neck and hefted him up. He blinked his blood-red eyes in shock and he looked at his capturer, who wore the twisted smile of glee.

Pyro shuddered.

This man, aside from other things that Pyro now deemed unimportant (Pyro was able to deem many things unimportant that were, in the grand scene of things, unimportant), was most definitely a few flames short of a roaring blaze. Yes, most definitely mad.

****

Ash narrowed his eyes pointing next to the waterway. "What's that?"

"I have no idea," Oliver said softly, stopping to crouch next to the rock.

"Why are you hiding?"

Oliver sighed looking up at Ash. How could he describe why he hide in the caverns, his home? He knew something was wrong. So, instead, he looked back at what set his nerves the wrong way.

They were near the waterfall. They were, if this was a map and them drawings, actually at the waterfall. The underground rivers, ever-so many of them, combined at this area, one of the from over their heads and behind the very walls they stood next to. Who knows, in a millennia or so, the wall would be gone and would hence allow the river to flow where they stood. Yet high over their heads, behind the "wall", ran a river. It twisted around and around, only escaping through a small of an opening a little over a hundred yards away. Yet the water escaped with such force . . . it was beautiful, ever-flowing, and deadly. It flowed faster, crashed down to their level for a few more hundred yards, then roared down again to deeper levels, a staircase of waterfalls. Sometimes he wondered if they all were the same river that flowed over the crevice.

Now they had to be careful to step over the small rivers, sticking to the small ledge bridges. The water mirrored the caverns perfectly, making it seem like it wasn't water there at all. An optical illusion, one that Oliver was long used to. The water was clean and clear if one were to cup it in his hands, but deep and cold, as the caves. Caves, even in the dead of winter, stayed only around fifty degrees Fahrenheit, and the water reflected that as well. Too long in the water and one went hypothermic.

Upon the rocks was a Tibuma sleeping. So maybe he lied to Ash when he said he didn't know. Any idiot—present company excluded—could tell that from a distance. Yet why was it next to the water? Skeletal had to be careful. Although the water wouldn't immediately hinder them, it would cause the bones to decay.

"Is it safe?" Ash asked, fingering a Pokéball, lest the creature should attack.

Oliver sighed. That would be an interesting, not to mention short, battle. "It's not wild, if that's what you mean," he said, standing. "Come on."

Yet he couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. He didn't know what, but something was.

As they approached the Tibuma, the Pokémon raised its head and looked blearily at them.

"Is that . . ." Ash started, then stopped, feeling foolish at the question. There were probably hundreds of captured Tibuma in these caves. But yet, as he looked at the Pokémon, he was so certain. He would gamble one of his own Pokémon that it was the Pokémon he thought of.

Oliver picked up the started question, and he stared intently at the Tibuma. Ash had the under-nourished gift, just from reading the dossier on him from past Leagues Oliver learned, to know Pokémon by sight. A rare Trainer could do that, and if Ash could hone that skill . . . Oliver shook his head. This was no time to think of shop. He looked at the Pokémon. There were only twenty-some captured Tibuma, and he should be able to know them by sight. Yet, up until now, he never found the skill necessary or practical.

He narrowed his eyes. There . . . upon the jawbone . . . gentle scratches . . .

"It's Doxie's," Ash said surely, ignoring his pride if he was proven wrong.

"Aye . . ." Oliver drawled slowly. Doxie was notorious for leaving his Pokémon unattended, letting them wander the caves. Of course, he did so as well, but he knew they were unattended and in the caves. And, as such, knew if they were missing or in trouble if too much time passed. Doxie never did, and more than once Oliver had rescued a Pokémon of his rival's. The term, although grossly exaggerating how he felt about Doxie, fit his role. "Come on. It might be hurt."

They walked carefully, in case the Tibuma was hurt and afraid.

They shouldn't have wasted the feeling.

Something screamed in pain, and it was followed by a "EONOS!"

Oliver gasped, whirling and looked up towards the cry. "Ossa!?"

Ash heard someone swear—the words were lost in the rush of water—but he saw Doxie standing there with a heavily bleeding forearm that clutched a familiar neck.

"PIKACHU!" he yelled. "Put her down!"

Doxie glared down at them. The stupid mouse and bones! He should have known something was up. Like just at that moment a Pokémon would have had a seizure! He should have obeyed his better instinct and not checked. The second his arm had been in the sound-blocking cage, the rat had bitten deeply and the bones had screamed warning.

"NOW!" he screamed.

The Tibuma opened her mouth and let out a low resonating cry. Ash and Oliver gripped their heads in pain, but that was not the wanted effect, which came later and the ground below crashed into water-logged caverns ten feet below. He frowned, not as deep as he wished, but it served purpose.

"Pika—!" Pikachu gasped, wiggling.

"Do you worst," Doxie growled, barely noting her grin. (Electric-types were ever-rare in the caves.)

"Pi."

****

Ash and Oliver crashed into the ice-cold water.

"What's going on?" Ash demanded, clutching the wall and trying to climb up.

"I don't know. Ahh, I think I twisted my arm here," Oliver groaned. Even still, he tried to find purchase on the mud-slick wall.

"Here," Ash grunted, holding out a hand. "Stand on these rocks and I'll give you a boost. No way you can get me up with one of your arms messed up."

"I beg to differ," he grinned, but followed orders, standing upon the very rocks along with Ash that had once been floor. Ash rested his back against the wall and formed a step. "Don't mind me if I step on your head."

Ash grinned, remembering times earlier when it had been stepped on without such pleasantries. "Don't worry about it," he grunted, hoisting the Trainer up. His sneakers started to slide on the wet rocks. "Hurry up."

"Trying!" Oliver snapped, attempting to grab the rim of the hole and pull himself up, bad arm or no. He suddenly noted that his support was gone as Ash slid away with a yell, and then a cry of pain. "Ash?" Even if he was concerned, his feet struggled for even the smallest purchase.

He groaned, clutching his head. "I'm . . . fine." He ignored the red water, or tried to, as he climbed back up and started to push up on Oliver's feet. "There!"

Oliver slid out of view and Ash slumped into the water, his head swimming in pain.

"Ash! Come on now," Oliver ordered, fiddling with a Pokéball and trying to dry out the circuits as he looked at Ash. "Hang in a moment! Damn you, you'd better wake up!" he yelled at the Pokéball. The Pokéball shook in his grasp. "About time! Get him!"

The Pokéball gave a shudder, akin to a sigh, then started to glow at Oliver's glare. Within moments Ash floated up, dripping wet and shivering. Well, he himself was wet and dirty, the mud covering him head-to-toe.

"Pikapi!" Pikachu yelled, running down and hugging Ash tightly.

"Eonos!" Ossa cried just as gleefully, pawing at Oliver's feet.

Oliver looked back at the ledge. "Where's Doxie?" he demanded the two Pokémon, who shrugged. After Pikachu had Thundershocked him, they both had ran to their Trainers. His question was answered within a few seconds as the two Pokémon turned and growled, backs arching simultaneously.

"Well, well," Doxie said rather calmly, considering he had just been shocked for the first time with a few thousand volts of Pissed Pikachu.

"What's going on, Doxie?" Oliver demanded, helping Ash to his feet as the boy pressed his hand to his forehead and scalp.

Doxie crossed his arms, snarling. "Nothing that hasn't been deserved by such insults." The Tibuma stood at his side, loyal to the Master.

"What insults?" Ash growled.

"This isn't because Ash dissed your Pokémon?" Oliver asked sharply. "Doxie, even for you, that's pathetic!"

He bristled, clutching his arm. "Is it, now?" he hissed. "One to talk for pathetic, eh? Look at your Tasks."

"Like yours would have been any better!" Oliver sneered. "You'd have had each Task a battle, the whole goal to win. You know it wouldn't work!"

"Better than yours."

Ash growled. "You want a Battle. Fine," he snarled, grabbing a Pokéball. "Bulbasaur, go!"

"No!" Oliver yelled, but it was too late. Ash had thrown the Pokéball, which Doxie caught defiantly with his wounded arm. Ash reeled in shock.

"What happened?"

Doxie smirked, examining the Pokéball. "Your Pokéballs don't work in these caverns, or did Olly forget to mention that to you? Something in the rocks, I suppose. It's why our Pokéballs are different than yours."

"Give me back my Pokémon!"

"Pika!" Pikachu agreed, standing ready to deliver another shock towards the bastard who held her friend.

Doxie's eyes flashed something, maybe fear, but he smirked, squeezing the ball. Ash's eyes widened as he saw the plastic contract. "I don't think so. And if your rat shocks me, I'll crush and kill it."

Pikachu growled louder, but backed off slowly. Doxie nodded slightly.

"What's your problem?" Ash demanded hotly, anger seething, his temple pounding.

"He's nutter, that's his problem," Oliver snipped.

"Really?" There was an icy chill in his voice. "I wasn't the one who never showed up for the Challenge."

"That's no proof of sanity."

He chuckled softly, and both Ash and Oliver looked at each other with that knowing look. "Here's a guy a few shocks short of a Pikachu" and "Oi, he's a few bones short of a skeleton" ran through their respective heads. "Why didn't you ever show up?"

Oliver's head jerked backwards. "I didn't show up . . . because I chose not to," he said slowly, and Ash knew he was glossing it over.

His hand tightened around the Pokéball. "Why?"

"That's none of your business."

"I'm making it mine."

"I didn't show up because I was doing something a bit more important."

"You were afraid," Doxie smirked, "of me."

Again Doxie gripped his Pokébelt, and Ossa growled bitterly. "Don't place any bets on that."

"Really? Then what were you doing?"

Oliver's lips formed a tight line and he didn't answer.

"Do you know what everyone was saying? No, of course you don't. Everyone says I stopped you from coming, that I was afraid you'd win. Oh, how I laughed at that."

"I imagine you did," Ash said dryly, eyeing his Pokéball.

Doxie glared at him. "Of course, everyone else believed that I did something to you, but that's what you wanted, wasn't it? To make them doubt me. And when that bitch's dog surprised me—"

"It was a Growlithe!" Oliver snapped bitterly. "If you paid attention to—"

"To what?" At that, Oliver fell silent, and Ash wondered how Oliver knew what a Growlithe was, having spent his entire life in the caves. "I thought so. You know, I think I would like a battle." He threw the Pokéball up and caught it, knuckles white.

"No," Oliver said lowly, even as Ossa snarled forward. The Pokémon skidded to a stop and looked at his Trainer with wide eyes.

"Oss?"

"I don't battle to make or break names."

Doxie snarled a laugh. "No. You just don't attend them."

"Come on, Ash," Oliver said coldly. "We found Pikachu. Good thing Ossa was looking after her." He smiled fondly at the Pokémon, who sat rightly pleased.

"Pi," Pikachu said, oozing sarcasm.

"Pikachu," Ash warned softly. "Let's go check on the others." Pikachu looked at him questionably, but Ash spoke to Doxie before she could voice it. "My Pokéball. Please."

Doxie snarled at him, eyes glistening. "No, Trainer." Again the title was spoken like a curse, mocking and demeaning.

"Doxie!"

"If he wants the Pokémon back—"

Oliver brushed past Ash and stood up to Doxie, several inches too short and too puny to win a hand-to-hand fight. "You have no right to demand such things. Give him the Pokémon back."

Ossa had also strolled over to Tibuma. Like their Trainers, one was visibly strong than the other, but this time the sides were reversed. Ossa was obviously the victor in any fight that should happen, but the Tibuma stood as calmly as Oliver did as he confronted Doxie. It was like both parties were playing a careful dance, one dance done many times before and both knew what was to expect.

It must have been a terrible surprise when the dance changed.

Doxie's fist shot out and connected with Oliver's jaw, and he lunged, tossing the Pokéball aside. The Pokémon looked just as shock as Ash as the two rolled, fighting.

"Get off him!" Ash yelled, rushing over to try and pry Doxie off.

"Pika!" Pikachu started, but Ash sent her the look that said no. Oliver was wet and such a shock would prove fatal.

Ossa and Tibuma also now rolled in fight, and neither was gentle. The Tibuma was bigger, so bigger than Ossa couldn't get his jaws around the bones to crush them, but Ossa was far healthy by care and creation. Even still, Pikachu went over and tried to help them, while Ash struggled to get Doxie off Oliver, receiving just as many blows.

What no one really noticed was that they were rolling towards one of the crevices.

****

Pyro ran as fast as he could through the winding corridors. He glanced over his shoulder, eyes wide in surprise. How? But he did not heed his pace.

The fox didn't know how the guy knew what he did, but that didn't mean he doubted it.

One may be mad, but that doesn't mean that one is stupid.

And this guy, whatever he was, was not stupid.

****

Desbrisier stalked up the walkway, one leg limping pitifully. He was almost there, almost there.

His ears could hear the sounds of the struggle echoed in the passageways, and he nose could smell the fighters. He shuddered with delight. He smelt blood, oozing, beautiful, fresh, tasty blood. Oh, to run that way and join the fight, to crush both sides. Oh so tempting, so lustful, so appetizing . . .

And yet, he couldn't. He was too weak . . .

He hated himself for being so pathetic.

****

Ash hit the wall with a grunt, momentarily stunned. Whatever had to be said about Doxie, it was that he damn Hell knew how to fight, and he had the strength to do it. Oliver wasn't so sloppy either, but it was a losing battle. He groaned, blearily watching the two struggle and roll. He tried to stand, but collapsed painfully, clutching his head.

He closed his eyes momentarily, to gather his senses . . . he didn't open them again.

****

All three of the Pokémon looked up from their battle when their Trainers yelled in surprise, and Tibuma was the first to rush over to the crevice.

There, hanging there were both trainers, bloody, bruised, and battered. Somehow they had managed to roll apart and grab separate holds. Behind them the waterfall roared, deafening their screams at each other.

Pikachu could see that Oliver was the one worse off. His arm—strained before—was now close to being obsolete to use. His Pokébelt was gone, lost in the midst of the fight, and he was slowly losing his grip and slipping down.

Doxie, on the other hand, was not nearly as bad off. His physical condition even benefited his hold, having the strength to actually climb up the far easier route. While Ossa and Pikachu fretted over Oliver, Tibuma leaped up and down with happiness that her Trainer was able to escape such a situation.

"Hold on, Master!" Ossa ordered, prancing around with a nervous, helpless air. "Hold on!"

"What can we do?" Pikachu fretted, yanking her ears. "None of Pikapi's Poké—Pikapi!" Suddenly remembering about her Trainer, Pikachu scampered over to him and pushed against his side. "Wake up, Pikapi!" He didn't. "Pikapi!" In a panic, she shocked him, despite his dampness, but it did no good.

Ossa ignored much off Doxie as the Trainer crawled over the edge, sparing only a moment to growl before going back to coaxing his Trainer to keep trying. Despite his knowledge that Doxie disliked him and his Trainer, Ossa didn't actually think that the Trainer would continue his murderous rage. He even figured that Doxie might even help now. By now surely some sense had been rammed into that thick skull that Oliver could die.

Doxie did, in fact, look down at Oliver with a touch of concern, but he shrugged it off as he turned away. He looked around, wiping back the blood with the back of his hand. He felt nervous, edgy, but anything to stop the tongues from wagging. He'd show the who actually was the better Trainer, if only by default. He worked too hard to let some chicken-Trainer stop him.

His eyes paused over the visiting Trainer, still unconscious despite his Pokémon's attempts to revive him.

Doxie put on a slight smile, fixed his tunic and looked back over the crevice with a detached look. He wasn't actually watching someone die . . . no . . . not that.

Why, that would be murder if he didn't do anything.

****

Oliver had looked up for a moment. It was better than looking at the crashing water below.

His arm was giving out, and blood-drenched bangs stuck to his face and clouded his vision. He could barely breathe through his nose.

He almost wished he hadn't looked up, hadn't seen that faraway look on Doxie's face as the fellow Trainer looked down. The eyes were vacant, like a Pokémon doped up on tranquilizers, but Doxie wasn't fool enough to go nipping drugs. No, the look was one of denial, of delusion, of dreams shattered.

Oliver suddenly had the feeling that slipping of out of the caverns during the match to get some local flora for his Pokémon, and maybe meeting up with Janice, didn't affect him as individually as he thought . . .

He was such an idiot to have thought otherwise.

****

When he was younger, a mere pebble of his present size, the mists hadn't affected him so, Debrisier thought bitterly as the clouds condensed onto his skin.

Yet now . . . now layers of rock peeled and fell away from him like old paint, flakes too large to be ignored. If he had weak, puny Human flesh, the wounds would be akin to blisters one would receive after a fire—dangerous, infectable, painful, life-threatening, scarring.

What did he care about simple scars, about pain, infection? What does not kill you makes you stronger, Desbrisier always held that ideal dear, for it was so true. Of course, he also understood the mirror—that which doesn't kill you may destroy you. But mirrors were meant to be broken so that the fragments would reflect another truth.

That which does kill you can be a lot of fun before it does.

The voyage to Death was very enjoyable, not as in pleasure cruises, but to prove that he could still take it, still dish it out, still was stronger than others thought.

He could see the waterfalls ahead and grinned.

"Yo, Rock-Boy," drawled a voice.

Desbrisier paused in his stride, a difficult task, not because his muscles didn't want to, but because of his inertia. He looked around. "Who spoke?"

The ground below him moved. "I know what you're going to do."

"Do you plan to stop me, Mud Spot?"

The ground bristled. "Of course not," it growled as it turned. "That would be pathetic, saving you. A coward."

"Coward?" Desbrisier repeated with forced calmness.

Mud Spot looked and snarled. "Yes, coward. I always view suicides as cowardliness. You can't take life."

"I can take Death. Could you?"

"Am I afraid of the Unknown that follows, you mean? Only idiots aren't afraid . . . Idiot." It shook its head. "Yet don't let me stop you, Rocky." It started to walk, then paused as if in thought. "You know, maybe there is a honorable suicide, but I have yet to find it. Yet I do know there is honorable Death. Of course, as to what that is is left to your own discretion. And if you'll excuse me."

The Mud Spot disappeared, going into a run and leaping over the edge.

The world's full of hypocrites, Desbrisier thought sardonically.

****

"Master!" Ossa pleaded. "Try again, please."

"Come on, Pikapi! Wake up!"

Ossa whirled. "Why do you not help him!" he demanded both the Tibuma and Doxie.

"Your Trainer deserves it," Tibuma sniffed. "Do you know what they say? That Master threatened yours not to show up? Yours is the coward, and is getting his just dessert."

"Does that constitute murder!" Ossa shrieked. "Because of wounded Pride! What would you have had him do, battle with ill Pokémon? That would have been a no better battle!"

Tibuma laughed. "How foolish to allow one's Pokémon get ill before a known Battle! He is either too careless to be a Trainer, or too cowardly!"

The Osteon didn't have time for a counter, for suddenly something landed right behind him and scrambled to get over the crevice.

****

Desbrisier smiled and started to run . . .

****

"PYRO!" Pikachu yelped, seeing through the mud at the blood-red eyes.

Suddenly the ground started to shake.

Pyro sneezed in disgust. "He didn't even listen! RUN!" With a staggering nimbleness, he ran forward, then stopped, grabbing Ossa by the femur. "Come on!"

Ossa pulled away, but was surprised at the strength of the mud creature. "My Train—!"

The light of the Shipozi was blocked out by the huge jumping boulder.

"Run!"

This time Ossa made no counter, slipping between Doxie's legs as the Trainer and Pokémon looked up in an awe-inspired shock as the boulder fell.

****

It was clear that he had been aiming to jump into the waterfall, to get that distance that Pyro had, but he had been too heavy to make it that far. The Pokémon all turned to look away as chunks went flying, Pikachu doing her best to protect Ash. There was a hollow in the ground, the force of impact having caused the floor to collapse down a level. Already water was starting to fill it because of a tiny trickle.

Tibuma had been crushed and killed on contact, Oliver no better, if worse. Tibuma have so very little blood . . . Humans, Trainers . . . water is not red.

"I guess I'm not the diplomat I thought I was," Pyro said with a lightness that belied the situation.

"Pyro!" Pikachu scolded, paws into little balls. "They died!"

He sneezed, then shook his head. "Of course. Shouldn't expect them to live through that."

Ossa backed up slowly. "My, my Trainer . . ." he murmured, creeping back over to the crevice expecting the worst.

Pyro sniffed, trying to breathe. "So what happened to Blon—"

"He's still here!" Ossa yelled in excited disbelief. "Please help!"

"We have to wake Pikapi up!" Pikachu rushed, jumping on her Trainer. "We can't reach!"

Pyro sneezed again, accidentally blowing fire at Pikachu's ears. He didn't bother to apologize, because he wouldn't mean it. "That's not how you wake up Blondie. All you do is merely . . ." He trailed off, moving to a location, and bit down, hard.

Ash gave a yelped, his eyes fluttering open and tears stinging his eyes.

Pikachu, although aghast that Pyro had done such a thing, hugged his head and then tried to push him up. "Pikapi!"

"Wha—" he slurred, fighting blackness.

"You have to help Oliver!" Pikachu cried.

"Pyro . . what are you doing here, and all dirty? Miriam's not going to like—ow!"

"Would you wake up!" Pyro snapped nasally.

"Are you sick?"

"PIKAPI!" Pikachu yelled, shocks escaping her cheeks. "Oliver needs help!"

****

"I can't reach him that far," Ash said dumbly, clutching his head. "We need a few more feet."

Ossa paced nervously, looking between Ash and at his Trainer, who was looking up at them as patiently as one could in a circumstance such as this. He took great pride that his trainer didn't scream and yell and plead for help, knowing it wouldn't benefit their condition. "We don't have time to rush to shops to get rope. We need—"

Ash suddenly looked at Pyro. "We need you, fox."

Pyro instantly backed away, understanding, seeing where that gaze went, growling. "No."

Pikachu and Ossa didn't quite understand, but looked at Pyro.

"Please, Mud . . . Thing," Ossa pleaded, still rather unsure of what Pyro actually was. Face it, the fox was still covered in mud.

"Come on, Pyro!" Pikachu urged.

"Don't you want to be the hero?" Ash grinned quietly.

Pyro looked wildly around, then down at the Trainer below, and then up through the entrance he'd jumped though only a few minutes before. A shadow moved. "Not my tails!" he wailed, sitting down and curling them under him protectively.

The other two Pokémon clicked and looked at him with their pleading eyes. "It's the only way," Ash sighed, knowing exactly what was going to happen to whomever held the fox.

"I HATE TRAINERS!" Pyro screamed, stomping his paw.

"Pyro!"

"But . . . but they're my TAILS!"

"Pyro . . . be a hero!"

Pyro lowered himself down and narrowed his eyes. "I hate you!"

****

"If he touches me, I'll kill him," Pyro growled warningly at Ossa. "I will. Do not touch me!"

****

Oliver stopped bringing his hand up to pet the fox. "You guys should stay."

Shamin shook her head. "No. Miriam'll be worried sick."

"But look at you!" Brighid countered. "You guys almost died."

"We know," Ash said dryly, then held out his hand.

Brighid looked up sternly at them, running her hands over Trigger's fur. "A few hours in the Hospital Wing, even with the medicine and regeneration, does not mean you're all better!"

Ash ignored her. "Good luck on your Training, Oliver."

"You too," Oliver agreed, taking it.

"Personally, I don't think you should have let him win," Shamin stated and her pup limped over towards her and sat down. "He didn't do the four tasks. Ran out on the second one, and you didn't even give him the third or fourth."

"Chupi!"

"Nine tal nin ninetale," Pyro snapped.

"CHU!"

Oliver shook his head. "Shamin, tests and tasks are just that. They mean nothing. It's what you do, not why you do it. And, in my mind, he won." Then he grinned. "Besides, from what I read, this Trainer here never actually wins by the rules anyway."

"Hey!" Ash protested. "I do—"

"Shut up," Shamin snapped, ignoring Ash's expression. "We've got to go find Miriam. And no offense, but I want to get out of here!"

Ash paused. "So she can kill us? I mean, look at Pyro!" Everyone looked at the tiny, mud-covered, sneezing, and generally really peeved fox, his tails wrapped in bandages and not as fluffy as they once had been.

"He's still alive," Oliver said pointedly, ignoring the fireball-sneeze.

"Then he's better off than we'll be!"

Brighid moved her feet shyly. "Shamin?"

"Yeah?"

"Here!" The girl handed over a Pokéball before she lost the nerve. Trigger suddenly gave an excitable yelp and tried to jump up and sniff the ball, despite his wounds. "It's a Cubone! I found it this morning!"

"Bet it's the same one you and Trigger were hassling," Ash said as he surveyed Trigger, although he was ignored.

"Oh, they're so cute!" Shamin said gleefully. "Cool Pokéball too! Much better than our red ones. Thank you, Brighid! Trigger, DOWN!"

The girl's cheeks flushed. "Oh, no problem."

"We'd better be going," Oliver drawled, interrupting the scene.

Brighid looked thoughtful, then turned towards her brother. "Don't you get cursed for like a thousand years if you pull a Ninetales' tail?"

Oliver raspberried. "That's silly superstition. Come on, well show you the easiest way ou—ow!" As he turned, he tripped on a rock.

Pyro grinned wickedly.

****

"Oh, my god! What happened to ya!?" Miriam screamed.

"Miriam, we're fin—" Shamin started.

"My poor little baby," she purred, scooping up her fox and walked away a bit, doting Pyro and giving soft little murmurs.

Ash looked at Shamin. "I'm glad to see how we rate on her importance scale," he said satirically, watching as a whining Trigger followed Miriam, trying to get some of her attention showered unto him. "Top of the list."

Pikachu smiled at her Trainer and friend. "Pi, Pikapi."

Shamin rubbed her bandaged head, a headache coming on as the Ossature painkillers moved through her system. "Just give her a little time. She'll kill you eventually."

He nodded slightly, then suddenly widened his eye. His grinned turned rather evil. "Hey, Shamin? Do you remember that wee little wager we had on earlier?" he asked as Shamin started to walk away.

She staggered and whirled. "You wouldn't!"

"I won."

"My back!"

"I won," he repeated, ignoring the snide little comment that wanted to be spoken, the one that said "Who exactly is worse off with the wounds here?" and held out his bag.

Miriam suddenly reappeared and clutched Ash's arm painfully, ignoring his yelp. "I know ya're responsible for my lil baby!"

"How—?"

She ignored him, green eyes narrowed. "Ya are givin' him a bath!"

Shamin gave a snort of laughter at Ash's expression.

"But . . . but I won the bet!" he wailed as Miriam started to drag him away.

Miriam focused her evil eyes at him—Ash never realized until now how much like Pyro's they were—not understanding and frankly not caring. "Bath . . . now!"

"But I won!"

"No. Ya lost!"

Ash looked over at Pyro, who was carefully smirking and revenge of the idea of using him as a rope was clearly in the fox's eyes. He collapsed heavily to the ground, passed out from wounds or exhaustion or fear or whatever, no one really knew, but most definitely out.

Miriam put her hands on her hips and glared down. "That is not goin' to work!"

****

The stars twinkled on the bluish-black sky . . .

****

Josh Thomas sat in his chair and looked at the water, at the creatures he couldn't see . . . remembering. He shook his head.

"Mr. Ketchum, I hope you shall bow out of the dance," he sighed. "Otherwise you'll lose everything. Just like everyone else . . . even if you win . . ."

POKÉDEX

Shipozi—the Cave Light Pokémon:

A small plant Pokémon, Shipozi are found in large clusters on walls of caves over the span of many years. They don't move, don't require sunlight, and they don't have any battle moves, save maybe Blinding Light. They live in moist, humid caves, and feed off actually minerals found in rocks over the course of a year. If they fall, detach, or are removed from the rock, they die instantly. [return]

Patellacoon—the Fuzzy-Tailed Pokémon:

Made almost entirely out of bones, Patellacoon surprisingly has a very fuzzy, long, elegant striped tail. This is because, it is reasoned, the Pokémon gets cold extremely easily and relies on its tail to preserve warmth. They enjoy gathering little trinkets and causing mischief in country graveyards, knocking over tombstones. Their front paws are very nimble and sensitive, nerves actually running in the bones. [return]

Tibuma—the Collapsible Pokémon:

This Pokémon as the unfortunate trait of falling apart at any given movement, bones dropping off. A lucky Tibuma is about to realize that it has lost a bone right away, but most aren't, so it isn't unusual for a Tibuma to have three legs. An especially young Tibuma is even more susceptible to this trait. They tend not to move too much around and are a dying-out breed, as they truly need a Trainer's care. [return]

Osteon—the Grave-Guardian Pokémon:

Another Eevee evolution, Osteon comes about when an Eevee comes in contact with a certain kind of plant. Usually fatal to other creatures, an Eevee's DNA reacts by having its bones secrete a gel that bonds the bones together and grow wider. As the outer skin dies and falls off, the bones form a protective coating around the fragile, shrunken-down internal organs. At some points, the bones are so thin that you can see the organs inside. Rarely does it have to eat, but it needs large amounts of calcium to survive. Osteon are rare because of the brittleness. One rarely lived past six months. One golden rule—if you own a Dog Pokémon, do not own an Osteon. If you own an Osteon, do not own a dog, do not live next to a dog, do not look at dog, do not be anywhere where there are dogs. Osteon do not like dogs and will not survive for long meeting dogs. It is not rare for the rare Pokémon, newly evolved, to be at their Trainer's grave. [return]