Precious Stone

3: The Ghost

When I was fourteen, I received my mother's permission to leave home. Though it was far later than I would have liked—two years later, in fact—the moment I stepped out my front door with no more than a backpack and a Pokémon was one of the happiest moments of my life. I felt as if I was leaving behind a prison for a whole wide world, full of possibilities, and there was no way to look but forward.

My brother gave me the money he had been saving up since my accident nearly five years ago. "Don't lose," he told me. "Even if you lose one or two battles, never lose the war." Then he gave me the hat he'd made (my brother is such a girl) and promised to find me pretty soon.

My father was just as sad to see me go—though we had never connected as father and daughter, he was a nice man, and gave me a Pokégear and some money. Later, I would find a sack of five Pokéballs in the bottom of my backpack, with a note from my father reading, "Good luck. We'll be seeing you on television soon, I know it."

My mother just hugged me and waved. She would go on with her life in much the same way, and we wouldn't miss each other.

I decided that Olivine wasn't the way to go, if I wanted to see the whole wide world; so we went east, instead, with our destination lying in Ecruteak City. Minnie was more nervous than I was about the whole thing, but the confidence she had gained from her defeat of Dragonair served her well. We fought mostly one-on-one (we encountered three trainers between my house and the city), though once, Minnie faced a Psyduck and a Rattata in succession. Their girl-trainer had been impressed, and offered to buy me lunch.

So it was that I reached my first destination in two days.

I had been to Ecruteak once or twice before, mostly just to see the dance shows or take a tour through the old Tin Tower, which had burned down a few years before. I was pleased to discover that the Pokécenter had an open space, and they let me keep my things there and sleep on one of the couches for free.

The next day, I decided it would do me good to exercise before even considering challenging Morty. I knew he was a ghost-type trainer, but I knew next to nothing about ghosts—so while I found a book in the center's small library and started my research, I had Minnie do rolls and jumping jacks.

What I found was very little of substance, much like the ghosts themselves: "Ghost-type Pokémon are known for their elusive nature," and "few Pokémon can resist the dark powers of a ghost." This was not very encouraging, so I sat back for the rest of the day and thought.

That evening, dinner was served a few minutes past six—the sun was still high in the sky, so children played outside with kickballs and pet Pokémon. As Minnie and I ate, I overheard two other trainers—younger boys—talking about Morty.

"He destroyed me," the first boy said. "I managed to defeat one of his Pokémon—a Ghastly—but his Haunter was too much."

"Wow," said the second boy. "I've heard that Morty has a Gengar, too. I was going to challenge him tomorrow, but now I'm not so sure."

The first boy nodded his head. "The only reason I won against that Ghastly was my Jigglypuff. It seems that normal-type Pokémon aren't affected by ghost-type moves, like Night Shade. I had Puffkin sing it to sleep, and then Fire Punched it out of the ring."

"How did the Haunter get you?"

"It cursed me."

I was startled by this conversation. So, normal-types could resist Morty's ghosts? That must have been what the book meant by "few Pokémon." Curious, I cleared my throat, and the two boys looked at me. Minnie was lounging on the couch, full from dinner and ready to drop out for the night.

"I'm sorry," I said, "but I overheard what you said about the ghosts. I want to challenge Morty, too."

The first boy grinned at me. "You do, huh? Well, what have you got?"

I gestured to Minnie, who chose that moment to raise her head and give off a bored moo. The two boys laughed. "You'll be hard-pressed, I think, unless she has some sort of special attack."

"Special attack?" I asked. "What do you mean?"

"Just like ghost-type moves don't affect normal-type Pokémon, it goes vice versa. Unless she has some kind of elemental move, you'll be at a stalemate, until Morty curses you, of course."

I was dumbfounded. Thanking the two boys, I got my reluctant Miltank up and ushered her outside. Peeved, she stomped one foot.

"We've got a dilemma," I told her. "We'll have to teach you an elemental-type move, somehow." She gave me a curious look. "Look." I took a small book out of my backpack. It was one of the few mementos I had kept since my accident, when I threw away most of the things in my room that carried no meaning to me whatsoever. "I didn't know what this was until now, but I think I have an idea."

I spent the rest of the daylight hours teaching Minnie what the book labeled "Thunderpunch." It wasn't an easy task, and we hadn't gained much ground by the time the sun dipped below the horizon. We were in a field outside the city limits, and when the night came, I realized I wasn't quite sure how we would get back. I could faintly see city lights, but they soon began to dim and before long, I didn't know where we were.

I could hear Hoot-Hoots in the high trees, and despite a budding worry, the enormous moon overhead was comforting. "Might as well enjoy it," I said, and Minnie agreed, sitting down in the grass. I joined her, propping myself up on my hands as we looked up at the stars. The sky was absolutely clear, and the air was warm with summer—there wasn't much that could go wrong, besides not being able to find our way back.

Minnie's head turned suddenly. "What is it?" I asked her. She got up onto four legs and looked around, her bobbed tail standing up in the air. It twitched. "Do you see something?"

Then I heard it: it sounded like a short gust of wind, but it was close; when I looked around, I saw a brief, dark flash. Minnie had learned how to summon a little bit of electricity, and now, the bauble on her tail buzzed with it. I went to stand beside her, both of us tense and waiting for something to happen. Was it a Pokémon? A person? One of the strange legendary Pokémon Lance had told me roamed the open roads and fields of Johto?

Suddenly, Minnie let out a loud moo, and I saw her flopped back on her haunches. She gave me a dazed look, and when she tried to get up, she stumbled one way, tipping, before falling back again. "What's wrong? Min!"

Then I saw it. Rising up above the grass, the eyes appeared first: they were enormous and almond-shaped, and were the only part of the small ghost Pokémon that was visible in the darkness. I was going to be attacked, but there wasn't much Minnie could do in her state; the Ghastly must have confused her.

"Come on, Min," I said to her, leaning down to rub her head. "Get up. You can do it." She got to her feet, still dizzy, and looked up at the grinning Ghastly. The Pokémon did an acrobatic flip and before Minnie could do anything, the ghost charged.

Minnie gave me a paralyzed, wide-eyed look as the enormous tongue delivered one enormous lick; goosebumps erupted all over her skin, and she let out a terrified moo. "Don't let it get away with that," I told her. "Go after it!" Still a little perplexed, she was recovering; Miltank jumped to her feet and after a moment of swaying to and fro, she ran after the escaping ghost.

I chased them. Ghastly bounced over the grass, while Minnie ran straight through it. Her tail bobbed behind her, giving me a beacon to follow. "Thunderpunch that Ghastly! You can do it!" The Pokémon had decided leading us off into the dark wasn't going to work, and as soon as it turned around, Minnie delivered a punch; it, however, was not charged up, and went right through the little ghost to do effectively no damage. Having recovered from her confusion, she ran back to my side and waited for Ghastly to come after her.

"You're going to have to do it right, even though we couldn't finish the training," I told her. "I have faith in you." Minnie gave me a long look, and then nodded her head. She walked back in front of me; though the ghost was coming in fast, gargantuan tongue out, she pulled her arm back. Her eyes closed and I saw her focus. Slowly, the rippling electricity from her tail ran up her body and into her arm, where it conglomerated around her fist in a small, crackling ball of energy. Just before Ghastly could deliver another paralyzing lick, Minnie reeled around and delivered an electric punch.

It was enough to send the ghost flying back, where it hovered in the air for a few tense moments, and then tumbled to the ground. While Minnie sat down and took a breath, I ran over to examine her fallen foe. I scratched my head. "You really frightened us," I said to the Ghastly, who managed to open its eyes and look at me.

And then it hit me.

I wouldn't be able to beat Morty with an unreliable Thunderpunch; this Pokémon was exactly what I needed. What is a ghost's worst enemy? "Another ghost." Lance, who loved dragons, told me this: "Most Pokémon will resist other Pokémon of the same type—only two types are only vulnerable to their own type: dragons, and ghosts."

"Well," I said, crouching down to be eye-to-eye with the formless Ghastly. "Would you be interested in helping us out?"

It gave me a strange look.

"We have a big enemy to fight. Your power is just the kind of power we need. Would you be interested in helping us? I can't promise anything but glory."

The Ghastly, who seemed to have recovered itself, rose a little into the air. I stood up as well and offered a hand. Its eyes glanced down at my fingers, and back at me; I smiled. "It's up to you. You can come and go whenever you please—I won't keep you against your will. I'm not that kind of trainer."

Lance wouldn't have approved, I knew. He caught all his Pokémon by defeating them in battle, and catching them—the way any trainer might. But I hadn't found Minnie that way, and I wasn't looking to "catch" any new Pokémon. I wanted to beat Morty, and Ghastly would know just how to do it. If you can't beat them, I always said, join them.

The Pokémon thought over my offer for what seemed like eternity. Then, when I most expected it to turn and run, it closed its eyes and nodded slowly. "You'll come?"

I smiled. "Great." It extended a shadowy hand into mine, and we shook. I took out one of the Pokéballs I had been keeping uselessly in my pack. Ghastly waited patiently as I aimed and said, "Pokéball, go!"

The ball easily settled, and when I picked it up, I said out loud, "He really spooked us, didn't he, Min?" Minnie had come over to examine our new companion. I laughed "Spook, eh? It should do." The ball wriggled in agreement in my hand, and I fastened it into my belt. The bright night-light of the Pokémon center had come on, and so we easily found our way back.

--

The next day, I saw Spook in the light: small but wild, bouncing about like a runaway sprite. I decided the first thing we ought to do is build up Minnie's resistance to any moves Morty's Pokémon might have tucked up their sleeves. She stood as still as she could while Spook tried on her every attack in his arsenal: he licked her, he doused her in darkness with his Night Shade, he hypnotized her, he cursed her, and he confused her. By the time he was exhausted and toppled down to the grass, Minnie was so dazed and flustered that I had to dump water from my bottle over her head to bring her back to the real world.

I had seen a good demonstration of my ghastly companion's techniques, and on the inside, I was very pleased. Using my book, Spook and I did our best to perfect Minnie's Thunderpunch, and while she still had trouble using it on the fly, she was getting better. She managed to hit every time, something our resident ghost wasn't too pleased about—but it proved to me that we had a fighting chance against Morty's lineup.

That evening, as the Pokémon scarfed down their dinners (completely drained from the day), I contemplated my strategy. I would have to remember that while Ghastly would be strong against the gym leader's own ghosts, they were equally as powerful over him. I would have to be on the defensive if I was going to win.

I stayed up long after the Pokémon center went to sleep. Minnie used my backpack as a pillow, and Spook had evaporated into a pair of snoring eyes. I went out to stand under the streetlamps.

I was approaching my very first gym battle. I had no idea how I would fare, and with each passing moment, I felt the butterflies in my stomach propagate like Rattata. That was when I heard the singers.

The sound was a pleasant one, like many voices rising together in harmony; curious, I began to walk towards the source of the noise. It led me through the small town towards a familiar-looking, longish building. A man sat outside against the wall, asleep. The sign out front read, "Ecruteak Dance Hall." Light came through the windows, and I could hear faintly people talking and clinking glasses.

When I went inside, a well-dressed woman wordlessly took my shoddy jacket and gave me a number, so that I might get it when I was ready to leave. On the far end of the room was a wide stage, and there danced six women in kimonos. They twirled in perfect unison, following a beautifully choreographed pattern as the music carried on. I moved to an empty table and sat down to watch.

When the music broke again, the six women stopped and began to sing. It was the same singing I had heard outside, but so close, I was mesmerized: they moved to the center of the stage and the indecipherable lyrics twisted around my beating heart. When the music resumed, the six traditionally gorgeous women raised Pokéballs into the air and before them appeared six similar, yet different Pokémon.

I had heard of the various forms of Eevee, but never had I seen them all together. I didn't recognize more than two of them, but that became unimportant as they joined in the dance. It became a steady flow of gracious movement, blended with music and voice, into one marvelous performance. I sat, completely enthralled, until nearly an hour had passed; at that time, the dancers walked off-stage, followed by their Pokémon, to the wild applause of the audience.

Most people filed out then, but a few remained, finishing their drinks and talking about what they had just witnessed. I leaned back in my chair and closed my eyes.

"Did you enjoy the performance?" I jerked my head up. Standing at my table was an older man, his hair making a half-moon and showing distinct tints of silver. His eyes were of the calm, endearing kind, and I immediately smiled at him.

"I certainly did. Are they every night?"

The man laughed. "Oh no. They have practice for most of the week, and perform twice on weekends. Are you visiting?" I nodded. "Then you're lucky you saw them!"

I laughed and agreed. The man sat down with me, and we talked for a quarter of an hour. He ordered us some drinks, and when I attempted to object, he said, "Don't worry about it, you won't have to pay."

He asked me about why I was visiting. When I told him I planned on challenging Morty, we discussed Pokémon training and other things I knew very little about—by the time we were done, I had learned quite a few useful tactics. "Were you a trainer? Are you?"

The man shook his head. "I once fancied the idea, but I never became competitive. I have a Rhydon—we sometimes battle for fun, but we don't make winning a goal. It's all for fun. In fact, he's a dancer."

"A dancing Rhydon?" I asked incredulously.

"He's quite good."

Dumbfounded, I sipped my drink and scratched my head in puzzlement. The old man seemed to find me rather amusing, and so he said, "You seem to have some potential. I lied when I said the girls spend the whole week practicing—they are not just dancers and singers, but trainers, too. If you come during the day on Tuesday, you might be able to battle them. They are very competitive and will give you a run for your money, but if you beat them, I might just have a reward for you."

Not sure what to think of this offer, I nodded my head. "I suppose it's worth a try," I said. "I'm looking for all the experience I can get." The old man grinned at me.

"I thought you might be." He looked down at his watch and looked surprised. "It's about time we close up. I hope to see you that day. Have a good evening!" With that, he gave my hand a quick shake, and left the table.

--

I woke up refreshed and confident. The three of us had breakfast outdoors and without further delay, I thought I would take what was coming to me. Waiting wouldn't do us any good.

I arrived with both Pokéballs in hand near lunchtime at the front doors of Morty's gym. I took one deep breath and went inside.

There was something eerie about the place, not that I had seen many gyms before: dark lanterns hung from the ceilings and the walls were made of a deep-colored wood, so there was very little light to speak of. Strange shadows followed me as I crossed the threshold and the great doors closed behind me.

I couldn't see the far side of the gym, but in front of me was an immense black pit; the floorboards abruptly ended and the floor vanished into darkness. The only thing that appeared to me was a long path crossing the abyss, like a bridge into perdition.

As I moved to take a step forward, I heard a voice that was boyish and yet menacing. "Stop there," it said, "unless you wish to challenge Morty, the Ecruteak City gym leader."

"I wish to challenge Morty, the ghost-type trainer."

"Come on, then, and stop dilly-dallying."

Though I found his choice of wording odd, I proceeded nevertheless with one hand clutching the condensed balls on my belt. I saw shapes move across the walls, but I tried to pay them little attention, and instead I clearly focused my eyes on the wood-and-nails keeping me above what might have been an indefinite fall. I wondered for a few moments how Morty had known I was there, but I imagined he saw the bright light of the world outside when the doors opened, and then I wondered if he was some sort of vampire, hidden away here.

But it might also be that his ghosts like the dark.

I found myself again when I reached solid ground, and my thoughts spun back to the task at hand. Morty stepped out of the shadows and he was not more or less than I had expected: he kept his locks pushed back away from his face, and was no older than eighteen. Many gym leaders were young, but few matched the youthful Misty or the youngest, Bugsy. Morty was no exception, without any particular features, but with a natural scowl that intimidated me from the moment I saw it.

"Well then," he said. "What will it be?" With practiced ease he observed what I had brought with me. "Two on two?"

"Sounds fair," I said. It was then I realized I stood on the far end of a white-painted court—a battlefield. I had walked into the challenger's box and stood directly in the center of my little square. Morty stood opposite me, and without any further delay, an invisible speaker began to talk in an absurdly loud, crackly voice.

"The challenger has accepted the terms of a two-on-two battle. May the best man," there was a pause, "or woman, win."

Clearly, no one was here to state the obvious. It was a fight for the gym badge, and I wasn't going to be easily pushed aside. For now, Spook was my secret weapon. I would, with all good luck, lure the leader into a false sense of security.

"Go, Miltank!"

I could see (I have very good eyesight—abnormally so, doctors have told me) Morty's pleased expression across the wide, wood room. Without words, he held up a Pokéball and a goofy, yet sinister-looking Haunter appeared before us.

Minnie was not fazed by the clawing display the ghost gave her. I immediately launched into my attack—"Go, Minnie, deliver a tackle. Bring it down!"

I had given my Pokémon a quick briefer on my strategy, and so she wasn't bothered by my ineffective order. She lunged at the Haunter and as she passed through it—as she expected. Morty let out a raucous, arrogant laugh. I could taste it. "Didn't do your research, did you?" he called. I gave the best surprised look I could muster. "Moves like that won't touch us!"

The Haunter easily delivered a great, disgusting lick, and Minnie feigned affect; she tilted back dramatically and her grossed-out expression was impressive.

"Well, then," I replied, "I'll have to change my strategy."

Minnie knew what she needed to do, and so before I even spoke again, she was building up electricity; it began in her tail and slowly traveled up. Our ghostly opponent was coming back for another gulp when my Miltank slammed an electric punch into its metaphorical gut.

The effect was classic. Haunter tumbled back like a plastic bag, rolling over once when it met with the wood paneling. It regained itself after a moment and Morty, not one to hesitate, quickly ordered, "Night shade!"

I knew Minnie was affected by the ghost Pokémon's shattering stare, but she quickly pulled out of it and rounded up for another punch. Haunter came in again to lick her, upon its master's command, but its enormous, rolling tongue was greeted with another blow to the face.

Haunter was toppled. Morty unhappily recalled it, giving me a deadly look, and tucked the Pokéball away into his jacket. Minnie took the opportunity to reorient herself and recover; Morty, however, had other plans.

"Gengar, you're up," he said.

I had never seen the fully-evolved Ghastly before, and while it had a measure of playfulness to its demeanor, there was something far more imposing about it than any of its predecessors. This Gengar in particular, I would learn, had a nasty streak: it wasn't going to be above playing dirty.

Minnie was totaled after the first move. She made the mistake of looking directly at her opponent, who, with eyes wide, hypnotized her into a kind of waking sleep; I had no choice but to bring her home. "Too bad," I said. "You did well, though. I'm proud."

It was going to be a tough fight, and there was little chance a mere Ghastly could win against a much more powerful counterpart. But I knew that there was no way I would let this older boy just walk over me—the over-confident way he stood bothered me, and the underhanded glimmer lying just beneath the surface was a fault that I felt should be remedied.

"Spook! It's time to come out!"

He was ready. He knew he was just as vulnerable as he was strong; one thing Boston had always said to me was, "Knowledge makes you stronger. Ignorance and stubbornness are self-defeating." The moment of glory I had promised him had come, and all he needed to do was step up to the plate and do something amazing.

Gengar was faster. Right off the bat, he attempted to hypnotize Spook the way he'd done Minnie; there was no result, however, and my Pokémon immediately responded to my shout of, "Night Shade it!"

Our opponent looked no worse for the wear. The attack had simply bounced off, it appeared.

"Gengar, show this pipsqueak what Night Shade is really about."

Quite suddenly, the wide gym became noticeably darker. Shadows danced hyperactively all about, and all seemed to converge on my small, vulnerable Ghastly, who shrank into the smallest black ball that he could. The move had affected him, I could see, but when the room cleared, he sprung back to his best fighting form and gave me a quick glance. He wanted to know what to do, and I needed to be the one with the plan.

"If that's the way he's going to play," I said, "we'll play." I grinned. "Hypnotize it!"

I hadn't much tested this idea with Spook, but I had confidence that even against a stronger opponent, he could pull it off. The first attempt seemed to have no effect, however, and Gengar remained just as alert and focused as before.

"Too bad," Morty called, chuckling in a derisive manner. "Now, for a special trick: Shadow Ball!"

Immediately, Spook and I gave each other confused looks. Shadow Ball?

We were soon to find out, however, as Gengar put its two claws together. Inside the grip formed a swirling, black thing, which upon completion, was hurled like a professional baseball. The matter collided with the small Ghastly and together, the two objects sailed towards me like a runaway freight train.

I ducked just in time. Spook flew over my head. He was spinning out of control, and just before he would have gone over the edge and into the dark pit, he righted himself. With a few blinks and a shudder, the little ghost flew back to the ring and puffed up his plasmatic size in fury.

"Now," I said, quietly enough that only my little Spook could hear me, "I want you to try your hypnosis again. But don't worry—focus, and you'll do just fine."

The Ghastly gave an indiscernible nod. Though I couldn't see his eyes from where I stood, I saw Gengar's, and they suddenly began to cloud over; after a few moments, the lids drifted closed, and the entire Pokémon toppled over like a sack of potatoes. It curled up much like a dog on the floor and began to snore peacefully.

"Morty's final Pokémon is no longer able to fight. The challenger wins the match!"

Morty was speechless, jaw hanging open in a manner I thought was most unbecoming of someone trying to maintain a manicured mystique. Hastily he recalled Gengar, offering a muttering of consolation, and put the ball away in his jacket along with its partner. Then, he came towards me, a little awkwardly. It reminded me of a shamed schoolboy.

"I haven't been beaten in a very, very long time. I'd forgotten what it felt like." He took a deep breath and I came upon the idea that he was about to tell me something profound. "We have been training for a long time, my Pokémon and I. I felt, until today, that achieving some higher plane of understanding was close to me." I imagined what he described, but a grasp on it escaped me. I clearly wasn't a deep thinker like this dark trainer. I allowed him to go on without interrupting. "If a little girl with only a Miltank and a Ghastly can topple me, then I still have far more to learn than I thought."

I didn't mention that Spook wasn't really mine, and that I hadn't really trained him. Instead, I nodded my head and smiled when he graciously placed the fog badge in my palm, and closed my fingers around it. It was almost touching.

"Thank you," I said to him. When I turned to leave, I buzzed with a question and quickly asked him before we permanently parted company. "That shadow ball you used… I've never heard of it before."

Morty gave me a long, contemplative look that somewhat disturbed me. I was absorbed by his strangely dark eyes for the split second between us preceding when he said, "It's a ghost-type move I invented myself." He reached into his back pocket, and pulled out some stapled notes. He offered them to me; it was a gift that I tentatively took. "Here, try it. I'm sure that Ghastly of yours could make good use of it."

With that, he gave me an almost indiscernible bow and disappeared back into the shadows, like he was no more than a shade himself. The speakers above us crackled idly and I left, the great mahogany doors closing behind me with a clang; it marked the true beginning of my journey into the world and life of a Pokémon trainer.