I'm really sorry for taking so long, and for the chapter being so short. Writer's sloth, not to be confused with writer's block, is the chief reason for the delay. I didn't have as much motivation to write, but I woke up this morning to find three new followers to this story. So I decided to publish what I had. I'm going to continue this, I'm determined of that.

Also, nearly 6,000 views!


PROFESSOR SAMUEL OAK, 54* - THIRD PERSON

The professor didn't know what to make of the prosecution's witness. To be fair, this was due at least in part to the fact that he wasn't paying attention.

While he could still hear the proceedings, since he hadn't brought earplugs (not that he would have minded having them right now), Professor Oak wasn't absorbing as much of the information as he could have been. Instead, he was like that one student in a classroom who's always doodling or checking their watch rather than actually following along with what the teacher was saying.

Nonetheless, he did glean some important intel from the speech the witness gave. This witness was a tall, mostly bald man who looked to be around sixty. Of course, in this land where time didn't seem to matter, this meant nothing.

Every so often, the bald man would point angrily at Sarah Mariner, as though the defendant were a Lillipup who'd had an accident on the carpet. He didn't seem to look at Mrs. Mariner as a fellow human being, that was for sure.

Dara Orkun hadn't made a good case. Professor Oak knew that at least as well as everybody else, and he didn't doubt that the other Heaven Renders knew this too. And yet, that wouldn't end up mattering as long as this witness gave a more convincing testimony than she had.

Well, jurors aren't perfect. I've said this before and I'll say it again: Criminality experts, or whatever they're called, really don't know any better than a random band of people picked off the street.

It became clear that the bald man's speech was more effective than Dara's had been. How much more effective was up for debate, but Professor Oak was certain that the needle was moving just a bit further against the defendant.

With every sentence he spoke, the bald witness raised a finger in the air as though it were a talking stick. He evidently wanted to convey that he alone had the right to speak, that he alone held all the expertise on whether or not Sarah Mariner was guilty.

Professor Oak wasn't necessarily an expert on charisma, but he could tell when someone was having success winning over a crowd. This was unmistakably one of those times; the other Heaven Renders were furiously taking notes, clearly wanting to gain as much as they could from hearing what the bald man had to say.

They're trying to find an excuse to see her convicted. Anything will do, no matter how ridiculous it might seem to any rational person.

"And that", the witness finished eventually, standing up to his full height and glaring at Mrs. Mariner, once more pointing a finger in a condescending manner, "is why this woman should be taken from here and shipped off straight to the Underworld, where she should live in terror forevermore!"

His words were horrific and deeply offensive to the professor, but he spoke with such conviction that there was no question: Deep down, the witness believed what he was saying. That power behind his speech was far more impactful than anything Witness Orkun or Danny California could have said.

As such, Professor Oak instantly knew that there would be no undoing the damage; the bell could not be unrung, and Pandora's Box could not be shut. We can use analogies until the group of Miltank comes home, but the reality is as follows: A serious blow had been dealt to Mrs. Mariner's side.

Could there remain any path for Sarah Mariner to remain in the good graces of the Sky Garden? Or was this a death blow, one that the defense just couldn't come back from?

I've seen enough of these trials to know that the prosecution brings out their weakest witnesses first. If this man was the least powerful witness, I'd hate to see the most impactful. Look at Mrs. Mariner, she's quaking in her boots!

Indeed, the defendant could clearly be seen shaking in her seat, her face covered in a thick layer of perspiration. She was running her tongue over the fronts of her teeth, which she clearly hadn't had the chance to brush in a while, for they were somewhat yellow.

They'll probably use that as an argument against her, too. They don't give a Rattata's ass about playing fair, I can tell you that much. These people play to win.

But why should I care about their tactics? I should only care about if they produce the right outcome, because if she's done the crime, she should do the time!

Professor Oak ran a hand through his hair. He knew that he should try not to show too much negative emotion at the suggestion of Mrs. Mariner being punished, but avoiding it was easier said than done. He felt the urge to weep for the defendant; for very obvious reasons, he couldn't do that.

After the bald witness had gone back to his seat, it came time for Danny California to cross-examine him. A lot was riding on this, and the professor found his heart thumping a mile a second.

Mr. California's going to need a pretty knock-down case in order to get her out of this one.

Within seconds, it was absolutely clear that the public defender would not be able to deliver. Indeed, the pressure was showing on his face; he looked as though he were trying to swallow a billiard ball with every word. He had not prepared for this, and it showed.

All of the other Heaven Renders, who had been furiously taking notes, had put their pens down now. It seemed to Professor Oak as though they were discounting Danny California's cross-examination entirely.

Honestly, I'm tempted to as well. If the evidence in this case were not so one-sided, Mr. California would certainly be digging Mrs. Mariner's grave right now.

The professor shook his head; how could he think like that?

Oak didn't pay too much attention to the actual words Mr. California was speaking, simply because doing so depressed him to no small degree. It was looking harder and harder for this to have a happy ending for the defendant.

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"Sam, we need to talk."

Professor Oak heard the voice of one of his fellow jurors half an hour later as he was making his way through the atrium. It had come time for the lunch break.

He turned to face Mike Mindanao, who was looking at the professor with an expression Oak had rarely ever seen on his face: Anger.

"Mike, you know that we're good friends, but you know just as well that we're not supposed to talk outside the courtroom! We have to follow the rules!"

Mike Mindanao rolled his eyes. "Since when do you care about decorum and ceremony? You kept dressing in inappropriate outfits for the courtroom, for Arceus' sake!"

Professor Oak was about to point out that he was wearing his normal uniform that day, just like he was supposed to be, but he didn't think that his colleague was in a position to be reasoned with. Truth be told, it scared him to see Associate Justice Mindanao angry, simply because that wasn't his normal demeanor.

Soon, the professor realized that his colleague had backed him into a corner. Perhaps that's why his Earthly instincts were kicking in; even though he couldn't die in the Sky Garden, being an immortal being, he could still have to reform in the Underworld, which was a rather agonizing process.

He's not going to attack me. We are not going to get physical; he's my friend.

Remembering that his potentially ex-friend would be expecting a response, the professor muttered, "It's none of your business whether I follow decorum. You should worry more about yourself, Mike."

Chief Justice Mindanao's face turned the color of a fire alarm. Indeed, this was a rather fitting analogy, since he looked fit to start blaring the same sound one of those devices makes when activated.

"I just think you're not taking the trial seriously enough, Sam!" Mindanao bellowed. "I've seen the way you look at Mrs. Mariner, the way you seem to pity her; hell, I wouldn't be shocked if you were in league with her at this point!"

Professor Oak clenched his hands into fists. Mindanao had really gone and done it! Did he realize what he'd just accused his longtime friend of doing?

"Mike, please," the professor pleaded, "do you understand what you just said? That's a very big accusation to level against someone; extraordinary claims require extraordinary evidence."

By this time a small crowd had formed around the two men. In some respects, the scene was akin to a horrific car accident; it was terrible, yes, but you just couldn't look away, no matter how hard you tried.

"I think your behavior during the trial constitutes extraordinary evidence", Mindanao sneered, pointing a fat finger directly at Professor Oak's face. "And even if you aren't on her side, the fact that you seem squeamish about our side speaks volumes."

"So this is what it comes down to", the professor muttered under his breath. "Because you can't handle yourself like a Heaven Render, you're going to confront me like this is a playground fight. You should be ashamed of yourself, because Arceus surely is ashamed of you."

"How dare you claim to know the mind of Arceus?" Mindanao all but yelled. Evidently seeing that the professor had bared his fists, Mindanao did the same.

The crowd remained silent, but had they been outdoors, it's possible that they would have been chanting, "Fight! Fight! Fight!" It's more likely, however, that they would have simply looked on in horror as it got physical.

"Hold it!" yelled the voice of Chief Justice McCastle, who came dashing towards the crowd. "Don't fight!"

Mike Mindanao didn't look as though he was willing to back down. His fists were still raised at Professor Oak. Oak, on the other hand, lowered his arms to his side and began taking deep breaths.

McCastle stepped between the feuding jurors, surveying the crowd as he did so with a scowl.

"This is not entertainment, people. These men are putting themselves and others in unnecessary danger, and it's time for you to disperse."

Most of the thirty or so people who had gathered around Oak and Mindanao looked hugely disappointed, but they all dispersed without exception. Then, McCastle gave the two Heaven Renders a stone-faced look; he seemed so angry that he didn't know how to express it.

"I do not know what to say to you two. I'm tempted to release the Houndooms to torture you guys, but that would only create more chaos. It would certainly be counterproductive to the problem I want to solve."

Mindanao, it seemed, wanted to play dumb. "What problem is that, sir?"

Matt McCastle narrowed his eyes. "Associate Justice Mindanao, you know full well what problems you two are creating. Fighting and violence do not solve problems, they only add problems. That's something you'd know if you went to public school."

Both of the Associate Justices gave the Chief a blank stare, and then McCastle seemed to get even angrier.

"Look, I've had it with people trying to play dumb. I hate it when the defendants do it, and I hate it when the other Heaven Renders do it as well. Do you two need to copy the manifesto again?"

"No, sir," Professor Oak and Mike Mindanao replied in unison.

Writing out the Heaven Renders' manifesto, a document with roughly twenty pages, was absolute torture on one's wrist, to put it mildly. As such, it was a common punishment for the Chief to dole out whenever he saw fit. The last time the professor had to write those lines, his wrist hadn't stopped aching for over a week.

One of McCastle's eyebrows hopped several times. "If you say so. However, I will be logging this incident in the Book of Wrongdoing. And if either of you step out of line again, that person will pay dearly."

Both of his Associate Justices nodded; Oak knew that he'd be walking a fine line, practically a burning tightrope, for at least the next few months. He wouldn't be dismissed if he fell off the tightrope; rather, the job would only grow more onerous.

"Now, both of you, head to lunch. You've both eaten up precious time from your breaks, no pun intended."

Professor Oak didn't need to be told twice. As he made his way into the courthouse's dining room, he couldn't help but wonder what had made his colleague so furious with him.

After all, he was Mike Mindanao, one of Oak's best friends! His rock that had kept him going throughout his service on the High Court, the one thing that stopped him from demanding to step down, even if stepping down would entail Professor Oak being sent to the Underworld before Sarah Mariner.

I just think you're not taking the trial seriously enough, Sam! I've seen the way you look at Mrs. Mariner, the way you seem to pity her!

As Oak piled food (turkey, mashed potatoes with cranberry sauce, green beans, and cornbread) onto his plate, he wondered if pitying such a person was truly a bad thing.

When you saw someone going through Mrs. Mariner's trials and tribulations, it was hard not to feel horrible for her. Fear was one of the worst emotions anyone could experience.

More than that, though, Professor Oak pitied his colleague. Mike Mindanao didn't seem to see that the defendant was just another human being, like both of them had once been.

So yes, I do pity her. It's called empathy, Mike; you should get used to it.