It was a lovely, warm spring day. A few puffs of cloud dotted the sky as the sun's heat melted the snow on the distant mountains and caused the once dry ditches and ravines to fill up with fresh, crystal clear water. One would have to look close to spot the placid, bloated frog-like Politoad as they relieved their bodies of the burden of eggs with the aid of the smaller males. The once dormant Metapod and Kakuna pupas were beginning to crack and open up as the adult Butterfree and Beedrill were slowly making their ways into the world, their forms covered with liquid and their wings shriveled and folded. Even the Sunflora, depressed and dull from the rainy winter, began to open up and show off the cheery faces they've been hiding beneath their golden petals.

Cutting through the middle of this miraculous scene was a narrow dirt path. A large bearded figure and a short, child-sized humanshape Pokemon with diamond shaped protrusions on her sides and head, and odd purple and bright green attire were treading the road. It was Aya the Hitmonchik taking a walk with her trainer Boscoe the hiker. He was whistling "She'll be coming around the mountain when she comes".

The hefty man finished his verse and took in a deep breath. "Man, this is beautiful country Aya. We really should visit the Celadon region more often. Sure, the place is known for the city, but few people appreciate the great outdoors like us, eh girl?"

"Hitchik!" Aya answered back. She remembered last time they were in Celadon for the great P-1 tournament a few years ago. She never forgot the young Hitmonchan known as Champ, though they had only met for a brief moment. The last she saw of him he was knocked out and he appeared dead. Boscoe rushed Rick and the slime-covered Hitmonchan into the men's lavatory to try and wash the goo off; the fluid covering Poliwrath's skin would become dangerous if it remained. All the while Aya watched from a safe distance, missing her next turn and becoming disqualified from participating in the remainder of the tournament. But neither she nor Boscoe minded, they only entered for fun, plus the hiker was known to put others' problems ahead of his own.

And another problem was making its way. Aya felt an odd sensation run down her spine and a quick image of an injured Pokemon flashed in her mind, too brief to identify. She recognized the feeling of Psychic energy. Being a fighter, she was sensitive to psy powers, but this wave felt more like a cry for help than a challenge to fight. Aya snapped her head up and noticed a figure making his way towards them. He appeared to be a young boy and he was carrying something... the injured Psychic Pokemon. Aya quickly chirped her Pokemon species name and yanked on Boscoe's arm. "What is it Aya?" Boscoe questioned. He then looked forward and paused. The approaching kid looked very distressed and the limbs of the Pokemon he was carrying in his arms were dangling limply. The boy collasped to his knees breathing hard when he reached Boscoe and Aya. In his arms was a Kadabra. Its long ears were torn, dark bruises covered its delicate frame, and the spoon it perpetually held in its hand seemed partially melted.

"Holy... what happened?!" Boscoe cried out as he kneeled down and stroked the injured Kadabra. The boy swallowed as he tried to catch his breath.

"He... Kadabra... battle... we were... ugh," he sputtered and coughed.

"Well don't just stand there, it'll die! Look, there's a Pokemon center not too far off, do you have a Pokemon you can use for transportation."

The boy rigorously shook his head and tears welled up in his eyes. "Kadabra can teleport... but he's real weak. All of my Pokemon are like this. Oh, what if something awful happens? What if they die?!"

Aya began to feel ill with nervousness as her trainer swiftly removed one of the few Pokeballs from his belt. He opened it up and a great flaming horse with a white pelt and a horn on its forehead burst out. The boy backed away from the intimidating Rapidash.

"This here is Uni. Don't worry, his flames are safe." Uni pressed his soft, pink muzzle against the boy's hand as if reassuring him. Boscoe quickly grabbed the boy around the waist and lifted him onto the large unicorn. "Uni, I need you to bring this lad to the Pokemon Center we were just at and return to me promptly, got it? Now go, quick, use Agility! Hold on tight, boy!"

The flames being benign, the boy grabbed Uni's thick neck with one arm and held onto Kadabra with the other and they were off in the blink of an eye. Boscoe and Aya continued their hike in silence. The Hitmonchik was thinking deeply about the hurt Kadabra... Psychic Pokemon were usually difficult to battle because of their ability to predict attacks. So whatever injured this one must have been...

"HEYA! HEY! I REMEMBER YOU!" Boscoe's thundering voice quickly broke Aya's train of thought. She lit up at the familiar sight... it was Rick and Champ sparring not too far off. Or what she thought was Champ. This Hitmonchan had an air of power and confidence, a far cry from the timid youngster she met years prior. He was also fully clothed with the violet tunic, shoes, and ruby colored boxing gloves Hitmonchans were commonly associated with. As Boscoe made friendly conversation with Rick and told about the boy they saw, Aya approached the Hitmonchan. He blinked in recognition when he saw her... this had to be Champ.

Well, if it isn't good old String Bean. Judging by those clothes, I see you must've been a busy boy. So, how ya been?

Aya attempted a handshake yet Champ slapped her hand away, appearing offended. Aya was surprised that he didn't understand a common greeting, yet she failed to notice the anger rising in Champ. She then heard Rick speaking.

"Hey, how about a little match, one on one? I'd like to see how your little bitch there would handle Champ."

Aya, offended, glanced at Boscoe but he seemed oblivious to that duragatory comment. Champ also failed to change his expression.

"Well, I'm not sure... Aya, what do you say?"

"Chik!" She got into a fighting stance and glared playfully at Champ, smiling a bit. She'd show Rick the true meaning of bitch, and have fun toying with Champ's mind in battle. Let's see how much better you got, String Bean. she winked.

Champ growled as the humans shouted out their commands to their Pokemon. That is NOT my name! he roared as he charged towards the female fighter.

* * *

In the sterile confines of the friendly Pokemon center, a perky red-haired Nurse Joy trotted about, humming as she completed odd jobs and checked up on the Pokemon in her care. It was a slow day yet she was used to keeping herself occupied. As the nurse filed some documents away, the glass doors burst open and a robust Rapidash galloped through. Joy barely let out a shriek when she saw a young boy slide off the horse's side holding his Kadabra in his arms.

"Nurse Joy, it's an emergency! Please, my Kadabra and other Pokemon are really messed up!"

Nurse Joy would usually scold a trainer who let his Pokemon get into such a near-death condition, but she decided to save the lecture for later and ushered the boy to the counter to deposite his Pokemon onto a tray. She then told him to go wait on a bench while his team were being healed.

The boy sat down and hunched over, staring out into space. He did not pay attention to Uni casually trot back out of the center, nor did he notice the young teenage girl seated next to him with a Persian asleep at her feet. The girl leaned over and stroked the Persian's ivory fur. The wild cat rubbed against her in response.

"Come Cal... it is time," the girl said. She rose out of the bench and left the center, Cal the Persian trailing close by.

* * *

This is insane! The fight had lasted for several minutes, yet neither Pokemon had come into contact with the other. Champ was a machine, fast and deadly, his punches shooting endlessly like raging pistons, his agility impressive and blinding. Yet Aya was just a bit faster. She had no opening to strike, she was too busy dodging and evading the attacks. She couldn't even think, her eyes were focused only on Champ. Aya was even unable to use her trademark insults.

She had enough, something had to be done. Aya attempted to sidestep and tried to strike Champ, but the Hitmonchan was one step ahead of her. One moment Aya was ready to do a Karate Chop, the next her face was buried in the ground and she was being pounded violently all over her body. Aya tried all she could to roll out of the way or fight back, but Champ was too determined and strong, his forceful punches much too overwhelming for the light-weight fighter. Champ himself had little expression. Like Aya, he was incredibly focused, but his focus was on defeating Aya at any cost. Just like any other opponent.

Meanwhile, Aya's bearded trainer was petrified with horror. He suddenly snapped back to reality and called out in a quivering voice "Aya... oh... try to use Pain Split!"

Aya didn't know how she did it, but she somehow rolled out of Champ's line of fire. His fist slammed into the rocky ground with such impact it left a shallow crater and a slight vibration was felt. Aya stood on her hands and knees, panting and shaking in pain. A sting of discomfort in her side indicated a broken rib or two, and who knew what other internal injuries she had. Aya glanced up and noticed Champ taking a break himself, yet he was standing with a straight back and barely breathing hard at all. Now was her chance. Aya began to glow red, her body gathering all of the pain and agony she had to endure during the fight and preparing to counter all of the hurt to whoever came into contact with her. With her last ounce of strength, Aya took a pose similar to a bunched up rabbit, and took a flying leap at Champ. His skilled eyes saw the attack from a mile away. He swiftly performed a side jump and Aya crashed into the ground, landing in a jumbled heap. Champ didn't wait long to continue his deadly punch barrages.

Boscoe had enough. "Stop! I give up! Rick, stop the fight, PLEASE!"

The whole time, Rick had been standing with his arms confidently crossed and smiling at the result of years of traning. He grinned calmly and said "Champ, let up."

Champ made an abrupt halt, rose up, and approached his trainer. Aya, on the other hand, was barely breathing and blood trickled out of her mouth and various wounds. Her body was mottled with bruises and dirt scrapes. Boscoe cautiosly approached his Hitmonchik and carefully slid his hands under her body. He felt horribly guilty for letting her get in this condition, but he also felt awful about trusting Rick. Boscoe couldn't even look him in the eye. Champ meanwhile had returned to Rick's side, and he slid his hand behind Champ's crest giving a slight squeeze to his muscular neck. Champ closed his eyes in pleasure. He had done well.

"Well, I guess I'll be seeing you in the P-1 next year, eh?" Rick laughed. He and Champ walked off, never looking back. Boscoe just stood where he was with his jaw agape in disbelief. How could anyone be so heartless? And how the heck did Champ get so... aggressive? Boscoe felt the warmth and slight fuzz of his Rapidash's muzzle. He took in a shuddering breath as he placed Aya inside of his jacket. He then clambered onto Uni's back causing the Rapidash's sides to bulge out slightly from the weight, and, just like the boy and his Kadabra from earlier, they were off. It didn't take long for Boscoe to realize that it was Champ who had injured the psy Pokemon from earlier so brutally.

It was late afternoon when Rick and Champ arrived at the familiar fighting grounds, located in a remote area to prevent discovery from authorities. A small crowd of fellow trainers swarmed around Rick and greeted him. He was their idol. Just a newcomer years ago, Champ rose in the unofficial ranks and gained popularity, and he had the attire to show for his amazing skill and talent. He rarely lost a fight. The other trainers had to frequently replace their Pokemon, either because they believed their current ones were unfit, or they underestimated Champ's skill and forced their Pokemon to battle until they met the grim fate of so many other illegal dueling Pokemon...

"Heya Rick!" one trainer announced. "I've got this Machamp in a trade. I think she'll do pretty good."

Rick smirked. "Better than that Heracross Champ barbequed last week?"

The trainer winced at the memory of his perished oversized beetle. "Heh, I think your little boxer has met his match today! Come on out, Athena"

The spectacled young man released his four-armed titan from her spherical confine. The great Machamp let out a mighty roar as she spread her arms in an intimidating fashion. Machamp were androgeneous, that is, there was little physical difference between the males and females.

"Looks like you'll have to take down another lady today," Rick told Champ. He slipped the gloves off, ready to do his worst. Champ and Athena stood on opposite sides of the cleared off arena until their trainers commanded their attacks...

"Dad?"

Rick snapped his head back at the familiar yet surprising voice. Sure enough there was his daughter Rebecca. Rick sneered.

"What the... you shouldn't be here! My god, if you tell the cops about this place, I'll..."

"I want to fight," Rebecca calmly interrupted her father. Several blank faces stared at her. "I am serious. I would like you to meet Calpurnia."

From behind a rotting tree stump came the sleek form of a Persian. Her frame was lithe yet muscular and the crimson gem on her forehead glimmered, a sure sign of good health. The puma-like Pokemon rubbed her face into Rebecca's hand and sat down on her haunches, intense feline eyes watching Champ's green ones. Champ had a sinking feeling of a long forgotten memory rekindled.

"I have raised Calpurnia since she was a Meowth for years. I never scolded her, never beat her, and I was always sure her opponents were promptly healed after every match. It was hard work, yet I was able to evolve Calpurnia into her highest form."

"Well gee," Rick scoffed, hands on his hips, "I guess all that 'hard work' is gonna go to waste, right Champ?"

"I don't think so... and I will win without harming Champ."

Rick couldn't believe his daughter's ignorance. What was she trying to prove? "Well, I really don't want to upset you Rebecca, but things don't turn out that way outside of fantasy land. But if you must... go take your position at the arena."

Athena the Machamp abandoned her spot and the Persian took her place. Athena was very relieved; she was well aware of Champ's reputation. Just about all of the Pokemon in the region knew of him, even the wild ones who witnessed his victories and passed on the word. Calpurnia was oblivious to the Hitmonchan's impressive history though. Despite his skill, Champ was nervous. Not only had he never fought a quadroped, but he was very surprised that Rebecca had been training a Pokemon behind her father's back. Where did she keep this Persian anyway?

WHUMP!

Champ did the mistake of not paying attention and now he was sprawled on his back with the large Calpurnia on his chest. Champ, fuming from embarrassment, swung up a fist, but the Persian swiftly slapped her paw against it and dug her claws into the elemental knuckle orbs. A crack was heard and Champ felt an odd sensation in his knuckles. Champ was so surprised, he didn't even try to stop Calpurnia from doing the same to his left knuckle orbs. She had disabled Champ from using his most powerful attacks... it was a temporary handicap, but Champ had never experienced anything like this before. He grew hot with rage when the Persian winked at him. Her paws were pressing his hands on the ground and her great weight was holding Champ down.

"Champ, WHAT are you waiting for?! Beat the crap out of that Persian!"

"Calpurnia, remember what I taught you!"

Champ could fight without his elemental powers. He quickly curled his back and attempted a strong kick to Cal's gut. Cal just flopped onto her side, causing Champ to miss. Champ bounced to his feet, but to his astonishment, he found himself surrounded by a whole army of Persian. When did she use a Double Team? Champ wasted no time trying to figure the situation out, he just resumed the fight. Blindly attacking the temporary clones would be pointless, he had to find a difference... the clones always had obvious flaws that distinguished them from their flesh and blood creator. But Calpurnia was skilled; all of the copies looked exactly like her. They were so convincing they even casted shadows, a technique almost no Double Team using Pokemon could achieve. Champ growled in frustration and decided to take the foolish approach, randomly attacking each clone.

The battle was eventless and frustrating. Rick could see the real Calpurnia, but just when he would shout out an order to Champ, the crafty cat would create another legion of faux Persians, and the cycle would start over. It felt like an eternity had passed. Champ, his chest burning and body aching from exhaustian, stood in place with his hands on his knees, taking in deep breaths. He was panting so hard he failed to hear Rebecca command an attack, and just like in the beginning of the match, Champ suddenly found himself on the ground, this time laying on his stomach and Cal sitting on his back. She then lay down and mocked falling asleep, escalating Champ's rage and desire to turn her into a fur coat. Champ struggled and flailed, but the heavy, muscular Persian was too much for his wiry frame. Champ's anger melted into panic and fear as the realization that he was losing the match sunk in.

What's worse, Champ knew that he was letting Rick down. Not only was he losing, but he was losing infront of all of Rick's peers and admirers. But what baffled Champ was Rebecca's intentions. He was aware that she spent most of her time away from the house, only returning of course to sleep and to take care of Champ (Rick wasn't one to enjoy providing Champ with basic maintenance). He tolerated and even enjoyed Rebecca's attention, but that attachment was replaced with distrust...

"Ok Cal, get up," Rebecca told the Persian. Champ rolled onto his side when the heavy Persian slinked off of him. He felt the heavy vibrations of Rick's footsteps approaching. Without warning, Champ suddenly felt his arm being tugged so hard it felt like it were being yanked from the socket. He found himself face to face with Rick. Champ couldn't look him in the eye... he couldn't stand the disappointment and anger in his trainer's expression. Rebecca interuppted any punishment Champ was about to receive.

"I bet you didn't know where I got this Persian... remember when you were training Champ a few years ago, and my Meowth kittens were being used?"

Rick just glared at his daughter. There was murmuring going on behind him from the other illegal trainers. Champ just stared at the ground, not wanting to make eye contact with Rick nor the Persian he almost killed years prior as a kitten. "Well, what's the point, huh?" Rick growled, his grip tightening on Champ's wrist. "You're always prancing around like the sissy pacifist you are, so what made you want to train?"

Rebecca scowled from her father's comment. "I wanted to prove... that a creature raised with love and care was and will always be stronger than one raised with harshness. Dad, I want you to stop training Champ. Please. This is all wrong... taking lives, the harsh punishments... this isn't the way Pokemon training was meant to be."

Rebecca tensed up as she awaited Rick's rebuttal. He was at a loss for words, but she could tell that he was furious. And Champ was terrified. Rick glanced back at his peers. They were speechless. Both Rebecca and Champ knew that Rick had more in store for them as he ordered Rebecca to come straight home with him, and Champ dreaded the punishment that was to come when they reached their destination...

*********************

The steamy water hissed like an irate Ekans as it filled the rather large bath tub. Rebecca turned the water off, the dial let out a wheezy scuff. She pulled up her sleeves and faced the far corner. Sitting in a fetal position was Champ, his body covered in harsh bruises, his green eyes dark and glaring. Rebecca felt terrible... defeating her father in a Pokemon battle had the opposite outcome she was hoping for. Instead of seeing the error of his ways, Rick had beaten Champ furiously, and now Rebecca was forbidden to go to her only escape from this awful house life... no more volunteer work with Devin the breeder. She even ordered her Persian to retrun to the breeding centre, any future visits with the cat would have to be brief and in secret. But now she had Champ to tend to. Mustering up her courage, Rebecca forced a false smile as she tried to invite Champ to his bath.

"Champ... hey... the water it's... it's time for your bath, don't you want to get in the nice, warm water? You'll feel all nice and clean..."

Champ didn't move a muscle, yet a nearly inaudable growl vibrated in his throat. Baths were one of the few pleasant, relaxing events in Champ's daily life, but how could he enjoy this luxory if he couldn't trust Rebecca. In his mind, she was the cause of his pain... it was her fault that he lost, that Rick had to beat him, that it would take more time to build his good reputation up again. Rebecca hesitantly reached for Champ.

"Come on, let's take off those filthy clothes."

Rebecca gave a small tug to Champ's tunic. He snapped. In the blink of an eye, the angry Hitmonchan roared and charged towards Rebecca. The burst of her own adrenaline saved Rebecca as she darted out of the way, screaming. She raced out of the bathroom and slammed her hands into the opposite wall, her arms stinging with pain from the inertia. She then attempted to shield herself from any approaching attack, her eyes squeazed shut as she anticipated an attack from Champ. But instead of a pummeling, Rebecca heard her father's voice and the sounds of Champ growling and struggling. She opened her eyes and found her father with his arms wrapped around the squirming Hitmonchan. Champ finally relaxed and stopped his angry fidgetting.

"Good boy Champ," Rick said in an oddly soothing voice. Champ then closed his eyes and nuzzled against his trainer's chest. Rick ignored the sign of affection and faced his daughter sternly. "Geez Rebecca, now what did you do? Isn't it enough that you humiliated Champ today, then you have to go provoking him even more?"

Rebecca was disgusted by that comment. "Wha... you... I did... how can you...?!"

Rebecca silenced herself as Rick said "I'll take it from here". The young teen stormed away to her room. Ignoring her, Rick and Champ entered the bathroom, and Champ slid into the tub obediantly after Rick unclothed him. He winced as Rick rubbed the soapy damp cloth against the Hitmonchan's back. Rick was rough, but Champ didn't mind. All that mattered was that he was getting the attention he craved. The beating from just minuted ago were absent now from Champ's memory. He grew drowsy and blissful. The lavender suds trickled from his shoulders and down his belly and formed into puffy cotton mounds floating on the water. They looked like clouds. Champ closed his eyes from the pleasure of the warm water and the closeness of Rick.

***

The sunlight bathed the lush meadow in a golden brilliance. The long grass rippled in the wind. The leaves of the trees shimmered like millions of tiny emeralds as they were tossed by gentle breeze. The breeze, scented with fresh plants and earth, blew puffy silver-white clouds through the cerulean sky over the majestic mountains in the distance.

***

Champ never remembered falling asleep. He awoke in his quarters, also known as the storage room. His bed consisted of various sheets that had become worn and unwanted over the years. Champ was nude now, and when he rose the friendly warmth of sleep drifted away, replaced by the house's regular coolness. After letting his eyes adjust to the darkness, Champ became angry with loneliness. He had ruined one of those rare chances where he and Rick became truly close by falling asleep. The door of the storage room could not open from the inside. Champ paced for a bit, then settled down on a far wall and curled his body as close as it could get to the wall. He became silent. Champ closed his eyes and slowed down his own breathing rate. He had put himself into a trance. The subtle drone of the house's insides and Champ's own beating heart became very clear. But the Hitmonchan shifted slightly in excitement when he heard the squeak of Rick's bed in the next room. So close yet so far. Champ relaxed even more. Now he was overcome by the bitter scent of coffee, salty oils of human skin, and minty toothpaste. Champ's senses were at their peak. He could hear, smell, and even taste Rick.

But he could not feel him. Champ became frustrated again as he rose and trudged to his bed. He would show them... Champ promised that tomorrow he would put his best effort into fighting, even if it meant killing a whole legion of Pokemon. Just to please Rick. Battle strategies filled Champ's mind as he settled into the bed, lay on his back and put him arms behind his head. With each victory, Champ could feel himself becoming closer and closer to his goal; for Rick to love him. Champ's one simple wish was to crawl into Rick's lap, just like when he was a young Tyrogue, and just enjoy attention that didn't involve training or battling of any kind. Champ comforted himself with this fantasy as he fell asleep once more, his lust for fighting rising as he slumbered.