Chapter Five – Matters of Grace
Joshua
A grey dawn broke over Route 33. It was a pale, shivery sort of morning, cloaked in the subdued calm that comes after a storm. The sun rose lethargically through shredded clouds that hung high and wispy above the world.
Tucked under a bush, Josh lay in that content, fluffy place between sleeping and waking – not quite asleep, but not quite awake either. The morning air had a fresh, washed out smell, the smell you only get after rain. Sensations filtered in one by one – the rustling of leaves, hoppip piping, the feel of the sleeping bag.
A fuzzy thought rose in Josh's brain. But I don't own a sleeping bag …
Reluctantly, Josh made himself wake up properly. After a brief squint around for his glasses, he sat up and took a first look at the morning. He was lying in a grassy hollow, sheltered from the wind by a thick tangle of bushes. His clothes had been left to dry in the breeze, thrown over an A-frame fashioned from hazel sticks. Josh stared blankly at them. Vague memories of last night floated through his mind. Exhaustion. Finding a way through Union Cave. Coming to Route 33.
A metallic glint caught his eye, and Josh looked up at Magnemite hovering, and watching. For some reason best known to itself, it was slowly orbiting the campsite. The expression on its strange, artificial face was as inscrutable as ever.
"So you've decided to hang around then?" Josh asked sharply. Magnemite gave no answer. It was not, on the whole, a complicated creature but it had stayed by its trainer's side all through the night. Dead on his feet, his trainer had fallen straight into a deep sleep. In the grey half-light before sunrise a group of zubat showed rather a lot of interest in the sleeping trainer. Magnemite decided it didn't like that. It flicked electricity at them until they gave up and flew in Magnemite's electronic mind sensed that its trainer was annoyed with it. Magnemite decided to wait for an order, so it could obey and then its trainer wouldn't be annoyed any more.
Despite himself, Josh softened a little. Magnemite had been out of its Poké Ball all night and it hadn't wandered off. Maybe it was warming to him after all. That little magnet pokémon was a mystery.
The sleeping bag was another. It was a business-like affair; warm on the inside, tough and waterproof on the outside. The bag was dull green in colour, unadorned except for a single logo. It looked like a stylised Poké Ball superimposed on a black background, surrounded by a laurel wreath. A Pokémon ranger's bag? Josh thought. The events of last night were still a little hazy. He could only assume that he had met a Ranger last night, and borrowed this sleeping bag.
As he dressed and got ready to make a move, he sorted through the memories of the last twenty-four hours. They had a curiously unreal quality, as if being lost and wet and frightened had happened to someone else. In the calm of the morning, with the smell-after-rain rising off the turf, it was hard to really recall the heart-thumping fear of having nearly run off a cliff after being apparently chased by bull onix. And the memory of the cave, the magical dancing lights shining from mirror-perfect pools – that too felt like it had been something merely dreamt, or hallucinated.
Josh smirked wryly to himself. Damp clothes feel real - laying eyes on a natural wonder does not. That seemed like it should be the other way round. He swung his bag over his shoulder, hefted the now repacked sleeping bag, and went to look for the road.
The road to Azalea Town is a short one, running past wide fields until it bends north to meet the eaves of the Charwood. A trainer was hurrying west along the track, passing over the last few miles of the Route. His Magnemite trailed after him - stopping occasionally to stare at things - and by mid-morning he'd left the fields far behind.
Josh was feeling almost cheerful. Over the last few miles his clothes had dried out properly and he was confident that Azalea Town was no more than an hour away. On the right sparse evergreen woods lined the path; on the left rose a low outcrop of red clay. The smells of pine resin and wet clay mingled pleasantly in the cool air. He'd just stopped to read a signpost when a boisterous voice called out: "Yo trainer! How many Badges do you have?"
This was shouted down by a young man up on the outcrop. He was about Josh's own age, though taller and broader.
"None," he called back. "Why do you ask?"
"None at all? Aww, you're kidding me?"
"None as yet," Josh shrugged.
"Well, whatever," the guy slid down the steep clay with perfect balance. For some reason he'd decided to walk about as though he'd just come from the beach – light blue hoodie with a funky wave design, three-quarter length shorts, even sandals, for heaven's sake. His blond hair had a fashionably salt-damaged appearance. "You'll do anyway."
"I'll do for what?" said Josh.
"A battle, trainer, a battle. You won't win, but you'll do for practice."
"Practice. And what, exactly, guarantees you victory?" Josh asked coldly.
"Trainer, you're lookin' at an alumnus of the Dewford Island Gym!" he said with a smirk. "Name's Tyler Bradshaw, remember it, 'cause it's a name for a champion!"
Dewford Island. Josh had been there once, for a holiday. They had laughed at him, because he was skinny and nerdy, and he couldn't swim, much less surf, because he had a bulbasaur and not an aron. And then one of the pretty surfer girls had asked him out as he sat drinking bad coffee, with her friends laughing at him and waiting to see if he'd fall for it. Josh spotted the trap easily, but it didn't matter. He was still entertainment.
"I accept your challenge. One-on-one, no time limit," he said, unsnapping Bulbasaur's Poké Ball.
"Hah! One-on-one it is, trainer," Tyler said. "Go Machop!"
"Battle's on Bulbasaur!"
Tyler's Machop slowly pounded a fist into its palm in an attempt to intimidate Bulbasaur. Its oversized muscles rippled smoothly under grey skin. "Careful," Josh ordered. Machop looked hale and healthy – Josh wasn't sure what it could do. Bulbasaur paced at a safe distance, growling.
"Machop! Start it off," called Tyler, suddenly serious. "Karate Chop!"
Machop closed the distance at a run, arrow-quick. Bulbasaur deftly ducked under the first swing, and caught a backhand blow under the chin from the other hand. He threw himself into a roll and thumped back with a Tackle. Bulbasaur leapt again but Machop neatly dodged with a backward-roll.
"Keep your distance," Josh said. "Leech Seed!"
Bulbasaur fired the Leech Seed high on a classic looping trajectory. Machop side-stepped, darted in, and kicked Bulbasaur's legs from beneath him. Bulbasaur landed heavily and fired again. This time the seed was batted way with a casual flick of the hand.
"Bullet Punch!" Tyler ordered. Machop blurred and smacked a fist into Bulbasaur's side. A smirk was starting to form on Tyler's face as he watched his pokémon dart in and out. Josh smirked inwardly. Got you.
"Leech Seed, fire it flat!" he called. Bulbasaur crouched and let fly as Machop stepped in for a Karate Chop. The seed whistled in and struck Machop on the arm, putting out a mass of tendrils and binding the arm tight.
Machop flailed its arm and tugged at the tendrils, but the seed held fast. The smirk had gone from Tyler's face – Josh could see Tyler knew as well as he did that the Leech Seed would sit there, quietly sapping away Machop's energy until Bulbasaur chose to reclaim it. And now Machop had dropped its guard …
"Vine Whip!" The vine made a loud crack as the blow connected. Bulbasaur didn't give his opponent time to recover, smacking his other vine into the back of Machop's legs and scything it down like a stalk. Machop rolled to dodge one lashing vine only to take a stinging blow from the other.
"Machop! Use your Karate Chop and block the blows!" Tyler called.
"Keep up Vine Whip! Beat it down!"
Josh watched the battle clinically. Tyler's pokémon fended off Bulbasaur's Vine Whips with its forearm, blocking some blows, deflecting others. It can't keep up this attrition, Josh thought. Bulbasaur can reclaim the Leech Seed at any time to heal himself. This battle is mine.
"Grab the vines and pull, Machop!"
Machop's hands shot out and seized Bulbasaur's vines, faster than Josh had thought possible. So fast. Bulbasaur tried to tug free as Machop tightened its grip. A triumphant look flared in its red eyes. It yanked hard, dragging Bulbasaur to the ground. Bulbasaur howled in pain.
The Leech Seed unwrapped itself from around Machop's arm and flew back to its maker, bringing the stolen energy with it. Bulbasaur hauled himself to his feet and growled his defiance. Fierce pride welled in Josh's chest. Just look at that tenacity! Tyler was saying something, but Josh wasn't paying attention. The sight of Machop running in - fist drawn back for a Bullet Punch - snapped him back to the battle.
"Tackle!" he commanded, but Machop connected first. Bulbasaur Tackled in turn, but Machop simply rolled to its feet and thudded a Low Kick into Bulbasaur's side. Machop drew back its hand and swung. Bulbasaur, too tired to dodge, caught the Karate Chop behind the ear. "Bul!" he grunted almost resignedly, and lost his footing for a last time.
Josh held out Bulbasaur's Poké Ball and recalled his unconscious pokémon. You tried so hard. Tyler was laughing. Josh's heart sank. He'd really wanted to beat Tyler, to wipe that smug look off his face. They were so close to defeating him.
Tyler was still laughing at him. "Aww, man! Did I not tell you that I would win?"
"Calm down," Josh told him. "You just won."
"No, no, no, trainer. You lost, and I crushed you!"
"You could at least win with grace. The is such a thing as sportsmanship, you know."
"Yeah, yeah, it's funny how losers only 'win with grace'!" Tyler said scornfully.
Josh began to frame a biting comeback, but thought better of it. It wouldn't matter how clever it was - Tyler would just laugh all the more. You don't have to lose with bad grace just because he wins without it, he told himself. He glanced round at Magnemite still hovering at his shoulder. It was staring steadily at Tyler. The patient intensity of its gaze struck Josh as somehow hostile. It whined its low, discordant stereo-feedback whine.
"Come on, Magnemite," Josh told it. "Let's go into town." He turned his back to his grinning opponent. Magnemite followed reluctantly, hovering backwards so as to maintain its stare.
"Hey trainer!" Tyler called after him. "How does being a loser taste? Does it taste bitter?" Josh shut his ears and ignored the cat-calls. He walked quickly, taking long strides down the red clay path till he was well out of earshot. Tyler's derisive laughter was still ringing in his ears. Josh wondered why that guy bothered him so. Guys like Tyler were common in this world, as far as he could see. They were the people who, as teenagers, had risen to the top of their little social ladder, and had stayed there. They were the people who were, in short, the cool kids.
Such juvenile class distinctions didn't matter any more. Josh was twenty-one. He hadn't considered himself a boy for a long while now, and it had been longer still since the casual scorn of his peers had got under his skin, as it had that one summer on Dewford Island. Maybe it was that, despite the fact that Josh was no longer a nerdy boy but a young man, Tyler was still acting like a boy of sixteen.
If I ever meet him again, I will defeat him. And I will do it with grace.
Josh found himself standing atop a low rise in the land. On the right, the Charwood marched on towards the north. The path struck out west, away from the eaves of the wood down the hillside. There, it became a country lane, bordered left and right with farmer's fields. Beyond, perhaps a little over half a mile down the lane, Josh could see the outskirts of Azalea Town. Smoke was rising from chimneys, smudging the pale morning sky.
Which means the Azalea Town Gym isn't far away … or my first Gym battle.