A/N: I would like to thank user kintsugii for offering his beta services for this chapter. They are of huge help, and the critiques really helped me gain focus on not only this chapter, but the direction of the story!
The red flag of House Alemov floated lazily in the stiff, humid air. The pole it was tied to sprouted from the middle of the road, rising as tall as one of the five-story buildings. A pidgeot's wing, outlined in yellow, was printed against the red fabric. It symbolized the success of the Alemov family. The House's words were inscribed on the flagpole's stone base: Riding Forth on the West Winds.
Ethan could only look upon the flag with disgust. What sort of pompous ass has their own flag? he thought. Briefly, he considered taking a knife to the rope that held it up. Oh, the joy of watching that rag heap float to the ground! He would get in severe trouble – such an action would probably draw the direct ire of Falkner Alemov himself. The warlord of the Violet Prefecture ruled from his palace in Violet City, but Ethan had no doubt Falkner would descend upon Cherrygrove with the wrath of Giratina if one of the icons of his family's rule was desecrated.
He turned his attention back to the hat stall he was attending. Acts of vandalism were fun to consider, but he had more important tasks at hand. Like finding Mister Pokemon. Or, buying the flat-brimmed black hat with the gold stripe that caught his eye.
The hat vendor seemed to notice. "Made with real mareep wool from New Bark," he said with a smile. "Not that fake stuff coming from Goldenrod these days."
Ethan didn't know what fake stuff the vendor was talking about, but he figured it was just a sales ploy. "How much?"
"Oh, let's say… one-hundred and fifty yen."
After some haggling, Ethan managed to bring the price down to only one-hundred yen. Normally, he wouldn't spend time or money on something as frivolous as a hat. But, he figured it would help maintain – or at the very least, hide – his unruly black hair. And, he was flush with cash. Professor Elm had given him a stipend of twenty-thousand yen, more cash than he had ever had on hand. Where the professor gotten that money, Ethan had no idea. Technically, it was supposed to be for essential purchases only, but he figured he could spend a little bit on luxury.
After that, Ethan walked down the busy street, dodging people and pokemon in droves. At first, the crowds were overwhelming, but then he thought of them like the waters of the Kanjo; as long as you stayed with the current, the crowds would not drag you away. And it was not like he was going anywhere in particular. As he walked, Ethan tried his hardest to devise a plan to find this Mister Pokemon. Or draw him out, if possible.
It turned out that he didn't actually need a plan or put in much effort regarding what to do next. Not ten minutes after buying the hat, he was approached by a bald older man with a bushy, white beard.
"You're late, Gold," the bearded man said.
Ethan stopped suddenly. The older man did not look like the Mister Pokemon he imagined. He thought him more like a Professor Elm figure: tall and skinny, with sharp eyes, possibly wearing glasses too. "Are you Mister Pokemon?" he asked.
The bearded man harrumphed and rolled his eyes. "Meet me at the Cherrygrove General tomorrow morning at eight. It's at the cross street of Poliwag Avenue and Cherry street. Two blocks north from our current spot, then turn right onto Cherry Street. Walk for about five minutes, you'll see the building, large with a red coat of paint. Don't be late this time."
"Can't we talk here?"
With another harrumph, the bearded man turned and hustled down the road, disappearing as quickly as he appeared.
As he watched the bearded man walk away, Ethan considered the odds that that man was, in fact, Mister Pokemon. It wasn't like he was given confirmation to affirm that fact. The whole interaction was bizarre. How did he know who Ethan was anyway? Other questions passed through his mind, but they blurred together incoherently
Regardless, the old man who might be Mister Pokemon said to meet at the Cherrygrove General tomorrow morning. Ethan still had tons of time to waste before then. Blossom Square, according to his map of Cherrygrove, was only five block to the west. It was late afternoon, but still too early for dinner, so Ethan decided that his best course of action was to train. He wanted to continue his training with Doresey, but more importantly, it would also be an opportune time to introduce himself to his newly caught noctowl.
Blossom Square, true to its name, sat at the cross section of eight streets, each street going in a cardinal or ordinal direction. Its very nature made it seem like it was the center point of Cherrygrove, and according to Ethan's map of the city, it very nearly was. Sun-dried cherry blossoms lined the edges of the square, leaving the interior an empty, grassy field for people to lounge, train, or do whatever else came to their mind. As with the tall grasses of Route 29, the grass of Blossom Square was brown and sickly, and very few people seemed to occupy the square this afternoon. The un-Godly heat and humidity simmered above the ground like boiling water.
More room for me to train, then, Ethan thought with a smile.
In a flash of red miasma, Doresey appeared by Ethan's side. Like the harsh heat, the stench of sulfur sat heavy in the air. The quilava squinted in the sunlight and shook his head and growled as if it would scare away the sudden brightness. Another flash of red miasma appeared, and this time the noctowl appeared. The first thing it did was duck its head underneath a wing, shielding itself from the unobstructed sunlight.
Damn, forgot about that, Ethan thought, grimacing. Pokeballs held their contents in stasis. The last thing Doresey and the noctowl saw was the stars and moonlight. A sudden blast of sun would shock anything. Even though Doresey shied from the sudden sunlight, as a species, quilava were used to operating during the day. He would recover quickly from the sudden change. Noctowl were nighttime creatures, and with its dilated pupils, it was a wonder this bird didn't go blind.
Ethan's hand gripped the pokeball, his thumb about to press the centerpiece to recall the bird when he suddenly decided against it. No. This was the perfect opportunity to condition the noctowl. The first part of training a new pokemon was to make sure it knew who the boss was, and to dominate it if necessary. Professor Elm had told him so. With the sunlight blinding the bird pokemon, it would be at his mercy.
"Strike it if it looks like it'll attack me," Ethan told Doresey, who eyed the bird pokemon closely. Ethan walked to the bird, which was still cowering under its wing to hide from the sunlight. Sooner or later, he knew, it would get used to the sun, and any advantage he had would be lost. He dropped to a knee and faced the noctowl. "I am your trainer now." It sounded silly hearing it said out loud, but he didn't know what else to say. "You can either listen to me and make this easy, or you can ignore me and make this hard."
From underneath its wing, the noctowl stared at Ethan with its large eyes. Mesmerizingly large, he noticed. A man could get lost in that deep blackness within, an ocean of warm solitude. The darkness blossomed into a mosaic of greens and reds and blues. The colors glowed and swirled like waves upon a beach; like a whirlpool, they flowed inward…
A blur passed in front of Ethan, abruptly knocking him out of his reverie. He found himself on the ground on his butt with Doresey standing between him and the noctowl. The quilava's flames spiked from his back, plumes of smoke escaping his mouth as he growled. The noctowl, eyelids half closed like it was falling asleep, apparently now no longer feared the sunlight. It stood with its wings out wide in a menacing pose.
"Son of a bitch!" Ethan jumped to his feet. The bastard pokemon tried to hypnotize him! "Guess we'll do this the hard way. Doresey, tackle it!"
The quilava struck head first, hitting the noctowl square in the chest. The flying type stumbled backwards before quickly regaining its feet. It tried to take flight, but Doresey struck it again with another tackle.
"Keep on it, Doresey! Don't let up!"
In this battle, Doresey was king on the ground, and each time the noctowl tried to take flight, the quilava quickly struck it with a tackle or bite. The bird pokemon lashed out with its wing, striking Doresey in the head, but it didn't do much other than briefly slow down the quilava from his assault. After another tackle, the noctowl hit the ground and stayed down.
Ethan approached the flying type slowly this time, wary of another surprise hypnosis attack. The noctowl had chosen domination. So be it. "Are you going to try that again?"
The noctowl looked up at Ethan's face, then hooted softly. Gingerly, it brought itself to its feet – Doresey had done a number on the bird pokemon. But, the noctowl didn't attack again. It looked at Ethan, then drooped its head down in defeat.
"I'm glad we reached an understanding," Ethan said. He reached into a pocket and grabbed an oran berry, sticking it in front of the noctowl. The bird pokemon took a sniff, then turned its head away.
"You're going to want to feed it meat."
Ethan and Doresey jumped toward the noise. He suddenly realized that a small crowd had gathered to watch him battle his noctowl. He could feel a red heat growing on his cheeks.
"Rattata and sentret, specifically." The voice came from a young man not much older than Ethan. His long brown hair fell to his eyes, drifting in the warm breeze. He tilted his head slightly. "Did you hear what I said?"
Ethan looked at the noctowl, whom glanced back at him. "Yeah, I heard you. Rattata and sentret. Not oran berries."
The young man nodded, looking at the noctowl and Doresey. He stuck his hand out. "Name's Joey. Normally, trainers battle each other in Blossom Square. I don't think I've ever seen a trainer battle his own pokemon, though."
Ethan meekly shook Joey's hand. "Gold. It's freshly caught, but isn't tamed yet."
"Yeah, I figured. But, that quilava looks pretty decently trained. Say now: how about a quick battle? One-on-one."
Ethan paused for a moment. He looked at Doresey, then back at Joey. A smile grew on his face. "I accept."
"Great!" Joey reached for a pokeball on his belt and ran about thirty feet away before stopping and turning around. "The battle stops when one of us forfeits. How does a thousand yen on the match sound?"
Ethan grimaced at the amount. Could he really justify another nonessential purchase? Perhaps not, but then again, why would Elm give him a pokemon if not to be a trainer? And trainers were supposed to battle, were they not? How could he keep up appearances if he couldn't act like a trainer?
Ethan looked up and met eyes with Joey, and he twisted the brim of his hat backward. "Sounds good to me!"
A red miasma appeared, morphing into a raticate. The rat pokemon sniffed the ground before looking up and seeing Doresey. It bared its fangs, hissing. "Bet you never saw a raticate as tough as mine," Joey called out.
"You ready for this?" Ethan said quietly to Doresey. The quilava cast a quick glance to his trainer as if to say, of course!, then looked back at his opponent. He coughed a plume of smoke, and his back flared.
Ethan smiled. "Give 'em hell! Blast it!"
The flames danced along Doresey's back. The quilava stood on his hind legs and shot a fireball at the raticate, which promptly leaped out of the way. Doresey shot another fireball which the raticate dodged, too.
"Bite it," Joey ordered.
The raticate sprang forward, closing the distance between it and the quilava with frightening speed. It leaped in the air, maw opened and exposing its large bucked teeth. But Doresey dodged with alacrity, and the raticate crashed onto empty ground.
"Smokescreen!" He said while also thinking: Those teeth are real nasty. He couldn't just command Doresey to shoot fireballs as he originally wanted; the raticate was too quick to dodge those. As the smoke and ash settled, a large gap opened between the two pokemon. A gap that Doresey could exploit if him and Ethan played their cards carefully. "Keep your distance, Doresey!"
Across the field, Joey furrowed his brow in frustration. "Stay close, Oiya!"
The raticate leaped forward once more, again closing the distance between it and Doresey with its speed. The quilava jumped backward just in time to dodge a bite from the raticate, and the quilava dodged again when the raticate followed up with a vicious swing of its tail.
Seems like that practicing on Route 29 is helping, Ethan thought. He ordered another smokescreen, and a cloud of smoke descended across the battle once more.
"Gods dammit!" Joey yelled. "Are you gonna fight back, or do you only attack your own pokemon?"
A dark scowl crossed Ethan's face. No! His own voice screamed in his head. I'm not gonna let his taunts get to me! He breathed deeply, calming himself. Professor Elm taught him pokemon, and some battle techniques, but a live battle was different. So far, he had relied on his gut instincts, and those seemed to be working well. But, as the ash and smoke settled for the second time, a plan began to develop in his mind. Another gap was opened up between the two pokemon. Doresey couldn't just blindly shoot fireballs – that proved to not work. But, the raticate seemed awfully vulnerable whenever it jumped to attack. Perhaps…
A smile crept on Ethan's face.
"The hell are you smiling about?" Joey said. "Oiya! Close the distance! Bite it!"
Like clockwork, the raticate ran straight towards the quilava. It leaped in the air with its mouth wide open, ready for a bite.
Perfect! "Blast it, Doresey!"
The flames on the quilava's back grew, and he opened its mouth. Joey's face transformed to sheer terror, and he yelled unintelligibly, trying to divert his pokemon's attack, but it was too late, a ball of fire grew in Doresey's open maw; the raticate was in the air, fangs glistening, ready to bite, and Doresey let loose the fireball, and –
- and the fireball missed wide right.
Ethan figured he had the dumbest look on his face, what with his eyes wide open and his jaw dropped. The raticate collided with his quilava with vicious force, but it still took him far too long to register that the battle was over. As he listened to Joey's whooping across the battlefield, Ethan reached for Doresey's pokeball and returned the quilava. There was no way the quilava could beat the raticate at close with range, not with those giant teeth. That gnawing feeling in his stomach was confirmed. His first battle: lost.
"Hell of a fight! Hell. Of. A. Fight!" Joey ran over to Ethan and slapped a hand on his shoulder. "I swear for a moment there, that quilava of yours had Oiya dead to rights! But then that fireball missed, and – by Arceus, you almost had me there! By all accounts, I got lucky. That quilava of yours almost had Oiya. But don't feel too bad, Oiya's a great raticate. Top percentage of raticates, if I do say so myself. I swear…"
Joey kept talking, and Ethan tuned him out. It was only his first battle, but the feeling was still terrible. And it wasn't only because he lost. As Ethan handed the one thousand Yen to Joey, he couldn't help but notice the specks of blood that dotted the raticate's whiskers.
Someone from the gathered crowd screamed, and the two of them looked up. The stench of acrid smoke drifted in the air, and Ethan's stomach dropped. Doresey's errant fireballs caused the dry grass to go up in flames. That wasn't the big issue, though; the grasses burned through quickly and was little more than ash and smoke and embers. No, one of the fireballs struck one of the cherry blossoms, and now hot flames lathered its leaves and branches.
"We should probably leave," Joey said, gulping.
Ethan nodded absently, still finding it hard to speak.
"There are a couple of pokemon centers in the city," Joey continued. "Let's go. I'll show you the one farthest from Blossom Square."
…
After walking for about a half-hour through the squat, flat-roofed buildings, Ethan found himself alone on the darkening streets of Cherrygrove. The sun was setting overhead, and Joey's home was nearby.
"The pokemon center is about another thirty minute walk east," Joey said. "And – uh – I would keep a low profile if I were you. For the time being at least. The city is pretty overprotective of the cherry blossoms here, and – well – you did just burn one down."
Me!? Ethan thought. You were battling, too!
But, he didn't have a chance to speak out as Joey had already turned a corner.
Cherrygrove gave the impression that it was a gridded city, but as the streets ventured farther from Blossom Square, they began to curve and turn randomly. The tall and magnificent buildings that lined the road from the Cherrygrove to Blossom Square shrunk to houses and buildings no taller than the Mareep's Milk in New Bark.
By early evening, a hungry and tired Ethan walked into the pokemon center.
A common myth Ethan heard was that all healing in pokemon centers was free, but that was all it was – a myth. In reality, the cost of pokemon centers depended heavily on their tax status and subsidies in their respective prefecture. Pokemon centers in the Tin Prefecture, for example, were famous for being free and all-encompassing.
Cherrygrove was not in the Tin Prefecture; it was in the Violet Prefecture, and the Violet Prefecture did not subsidize their pokemon centers. A simple checkup on the noctowl and basic treatment for Doresey cost Ethan ten thousand yen, over half his remaining cash. Sure, in the grand scheme of things, ten thousand wasn't that much, but that didn't stop a knot from growing in his already nauseous stomach. Matters were made worse when he handed over an additional eight hundred Yen for a room for the night and dinner and breakfast. As if losing the battle wasn't enough, now it had an actual, tangible price tag that Ethan was feeling the effects of.
"Only one room left too," the center's clerk said as Ethan paid. "Buncha people came down recently from the Violet City area. Apparently, tensions are getting real hot with the Golden Prefecture. Fighting's gonna break out any week now between the two. Can't say I blame them for leaving."
As he ate dinner, news of the burning cherry blossom reached the pokemon center. "Some dumb kid with an untrained quilava," one older man said to another. No one seemed to suspect Ethan, but that didn't stop the nurse that was treating Doresey from giving him the side eyes. And all the while, Hajime's words rang in Ethan's mind: By nature, fire destroys. As does fire pokemon.
No constable or deputy came to the pokemon center inquiring about a trainer and his unruly quilava. Based on the gossip spreading through the center, Falkner Alemov had called most Cherrygrove guards and law enforcement to Violet City in anticipation of further escalations. All that remained was a skeleton crew performing only the most necessary functions. Apparently, accidental arson did not meet those standards. Ethan could only praise Arceus for such luck.
After dinner, Ethan set his room alarm for six in the morning – he would not, under any circumstances, listen to that so-called Mister Pokemon complain about him being late again. When he walked downstairs the next morning, he was greeted by a cheery nurse that handed him his two pokeballs. Immediately, he opened Doresey's pokeball.
"How you doing, buddy?" Ethan said, kneeling down to pet the quilava. Doresey purred softly to his touch, and yet Ethan still had a terrible feeling in his gut. He traced his finger along a discolored patch of skin above the quilava's left eye. "Damn. I'm sorry I let this happen to you."
"Oh, that's nothing. Barely more than a scratch for a pokemon," the nurse said. "A pokemon's blood clots faster than a human's, so even a cut from a thing as nasty as a raticate's fangs will heal quickly. And with little scarring too. Plus, your quilava is just the sweetest thing!" She kneeled down to scratch Doresey behind the ears, who eagerly stood up on his hind legs and licked the nurse's face. She laughed, but her face quickly turned to a scowl. "But that noctowl of yours – oh boy, I don't think I've seen a bird with a meaner temper before."
Thanking the nurse, Ethan recalled Doresey and left the pokemon center. He would rather walk with Doresey, especially after a tough loss, but he decided it was better to keep a lower profile. He could only assume that having a quilava walking beside him would be an invitation for trouble.
Upon stepping outside, Ethan immediately stopped. Something felt… not wrong, but weird. As if the air was different. He looked up, and he noticed the source.
For months, each day brought a cloudless sky and a scorching sun. Maybe a couple cloud clusters here and there, but nothing significant. But today? The sky looked bruised like a flesh wound, the bottoms of the clouds undulating like water in the wind. The orange of the morning sun was dulled greatly behind the grayish-blue wall, with only a few specs of light able to creep through. A cool wind traveled through the trees, enough to make Ethan shiver.
"Guess the weather's finally turning," he said. And it was about time, too. Like an unwanted guest, the heat of the summer had long overstayed its welcome. The pleasant chill of autumn was appreciated.
It took Ethan a solid half-hour to find the Cherrygrove General, but he did, and with plenty of time to spare. Much to his surprise, Mister Pokemon was already there waiting for him, leaning against the bright red wall of the store.
"Heard you had plenty of fun yesterday," Mister Pokemon said with a scowl on his face. "Heard you picked a fight with some random nobody at Blossom Square. Heard you even managed to set a couple cherry trees on fire. Congrats."
The sarcasm was so dry it made Ethan thirsty. "I am a pokemon trainer. Having battles is what we do."
Mister Pokemon whipped around. "A fake trainer ID doesn't make you a real trainer! You're supposed to keep a low profile, not start fires!" He shook his head vigorously. "I swear, if you worked for me, I would have smacked you so hard up the head you'd be flying."
In silence, Ethan followed Mister Pokemon down a meandering road. He supposed the old man did have a point; while Professor Elm never explicitly said to keep a low profile, the idea should have been assumed in the first place. Then again, what was the harm of a single trainer battle? Ethan shook his head, frowning. That old man is just looking for reasons to dislike me, he figured.
Gradually, the squat, two-story houses gave way to more and more trees, and at one point they passed by a small pond to their right. The cool breeze stayed steady, making the walk much more pleasant than it would have been in the heat of previous days. Finally, after about forty minutes, they came upon a house that sat on the banks of a tiny, dried stream. Beyond the river ran a wall of deciduous forest. The house itself was little more than a cottage, what with its gabled roof and its walls made of logs and its single window that sat next to the doorway. It was easily the smallest building Ethan saw in Cherrygrove.
"This is it," Mister Pokemon said. "Any farther, and you're in Route 30. This is as far as Cherrygrove goes."
Ethan nodded as they walked up to the door. Mister Pokemon opened it, and beckoned him inside. Just like the outside, the inside was quite spartan. The door led into an open-roomed floor, with the kitchen sitting next to the entrance. A table sat at the near corner, where a women with black-rimmed glasses and thick brown hair tied in a bun sat reading some documents. A man with gray hair sat at the table too, but his back was turned to the door. A bunk bed and a twin bed sat in the far corner.
And suddenly, a dark shape spun towards Ethan, stopping barely a foot away from him. Beady eyes looked up at him, barely peeking out from beneath a metal coat. A trap! Ethan thought as he stepped back and reached for Doresey's pokeball.
"Dammit, Almond! They're guests, dammit! Leave 'em alone!" A foot stomped.
The forretress blinked for a moment, then spun off to the side and closed its shell. Ethan looked up to see that the voice came from the woman, whose face was contorted in anger.
'Sorry about that," she said as she walked toward Ethan. She extended her hand. "Almond tends to be overprotective. You must be Gold, I presume?"
Ethan hesitated, then accepted the woman's handshake. Then he turned to face the old man. "Well, we're here, Mister Pokemon. Tell me what I need to tell Professor Elm."
Much to Ethan's surprise, Mister Pokemon's face turned a bright red, and his eyes drifted downwards as if trying to focus on anything but him. Behind him, he heard the woman mutter, "You idiot," and he heard the gray-haired man break out in laughter.
Ethan turned to look at the back of the gray-haired man's head. "So, you're Mister Pokemon!"
The woman audibly smacked her palm against her face. "Mister Drifloon," she said, speaking to the bald-headed old man, "you are dismissed."
"Yes ma'am," the bald headed man – not Mister Pokemon!? Ethan thought – said. He turned and walked out the door.
Slowly, Ethan's head swiveled to face the woman. Her dark brown eyes glimmered dangerously behind the lenses of her glasses. "You are Mister Pokemon?"
"Took you long enough," she said. "Though I suppose if there were more men in the room, it would have taken you even longer."
"But you're –"
"- a woman? So what? It's an alias." Mister Pokemon interrupted as she sat down. "Is your real name Gold? Are you made of gold? Do you shit gold in the bathroom? No to all three, I'm guessing." She sighed, pressing her fingers against the bridge of her nose. "You make terrible first impressions, Gold. Yes, Mister Drifloon told us about your misadventures yesterday. What on earth made you think a pokemon battle was a good idea? By Arceus, why – out of all people – did Professor Elm choose to send you?"
Ethan opened his mouth to speak, but the gray-haired man spoke up first. "Relax, Mister P. It was just a pokemon battle. No harm could have come from it. That fiery impulsiveness is innate to all young trainers. You can't fault him for that."
"One: don't tell me to relax, and two: yes I will blame him for that! Being given a pokemon doesn't make one a trainer." Mister Pokemon pointed a finger at the gray-haired man. "And you of all people have first-hand experience with the downsides of that 'fiery impulsiveness', Oak!"
Ethan choked on his breath; what was that name she just said? As if to answer his question, the gray-haired man turned to look at Mister Pokemon, his face weathered and tanned from hard traveler, his eyes glowing with knowledge. "Holy shit…" he said just a touch too loud.
Professor Oak briefly considered the young trainer before returning his attention to Mister Pokemon. "We have a guest, Mister P. We should be mindful of his presence."
"All I'm saying is that fiery impulsiveness you just praised this kid here for is the same fiery impulsiveness that caused you to go be in hiding for the past three years. Have you already forgotten the civil war?"
The eyes of the legendary professor darkened as if a storm passed through. He blinked, and they were calm again. "No, Mister P. I have not forgotten. Not a single day of these past few years has passed without me thinking of it. Always, the events of those days cross my mind. But, I trust Professor Elm. And, Professor Elm clearly trusts Gold here. So therefore, I trust Gold. And you should, too."
Mister Pokemon pursed her lips and shook her head slightly. "If that's the way you see it."
"It is."
Mister Pokemon raised her hands as if in surrender, then turned to face Ethan. "Have a seat, Gold. Let us discuss business. Do you have any questions before we start?"
"One actually," he said as he sat down. "How did Mister – Drifloon, I believe you called him? How did he find me so quickly? It wasn't even ten minutes after I was dropped off at Main Street when he came up to me."
"Well that one's easy. Professor Elm sent us pidgey mail with your physical description. We figured it would be easier for us to find you than it would be for you to find us." She shook her head and chuckled to herself. "Elm and his pidgey mail. One thing I'd like you to tell him, Gold, is that there is nothing wrong with sending something by telegram. He's always been skeptical of it, but I keep telling him that there is nothing to fear."
She clapped her hands. "Anyways, if that's all your questions, then let's get onto business."
Mister Pokemon spoke of what she learned with earnest, describing in great detail the pains she went through to acquire the information and the intricacies of her plan. "A great plan!" she said. "It cannot fail, so long as you do exactly what I say."
Ethan listened intently, or at least he gave off the impression that he was. In truth, at least half his attention was on the legendary Professor Oak. When Professor Elm sent him on this mission, Ethan figured the mission itself would be the highlight. Not in his wildest dreams did he ever expect to see the Professor Oak! If Professor Elm was a king amongst the pokemon professors, than Professor Oak was a god. A revolutionary – albeit a failed one, but a revolutionary nonetheless.
"… and this is the broach that you need to show to the kannushi of Sprout Tower." Mister Pokemon placed an engraved pin on the table. It was in the image of a bellsprout with outstretched leaves, except that its bulbous head was red. "This is a special pin that the sages of Sprout Tower made specifically for me. It means that you are a friend of the Tower. It is important that you do not lose this."
"Got it," Ethan said, pocketing the broach. "It won't ever leave my side. Not until I get back to New Bark."
"Good, good. It is also important that Professor Elm sends someone experienced to Violet City as soon as possible. The kannushi believes that there is an opening for the Tower to seize control from Falkner Alemov. I was told that Falkner is amassing troops. There is going to be a border conflict with the Golden Prefecture over Route 34, and soon. If we play our cards right, we can tilt the balance of power away from Falkner and toward the sages. But, they are afraid to approach Falkner directly – they don't think any in their number are strong enough trainers to overpower him. Very cowardly, if you ask me, but that's what I was told. Tell Professor Elm that he needs to send the best trainer he has available to Violet City."
And as she spoke, Ethan couldn't help but feel Oak's piercing gaze, as if the professor was reading his thoughts.
Mister Pokemon clasped her hands together. "It is of great importance that the Sprout Tower is in control of the Violet Prefecture. The kannushi has already sworn allegiance to our organization –" She motioned to herself and Professor Oak." – and they will be of great importance in overthrowing Supreme Emperor Lance. Without them, the other dominoes cannot fall into place."
"Okay, another question," Ethan said. He waited until Mister Pokemon nodded her head before continuing. "Why does it have to be Professor Elm to arrange this? Don't you two know any strong trainers?"
"If I may, Mister Pokemon?" Professor Oak interjected. He cleared his throat. "Quite frankly, Gold, this whole thing is Professor Elm's brainchild. I tried three years ago and failed. A lot has changed since then."
"What he means, Gold," Mister Pokemon continued, "is that he is a wanted criminal in Kanto and Johto. It's too dangerous for him to show his face. Not even the Sprout Tower will align themselves with us if news spreads that Oak is openly involved with our plot. And me, on the other hand; I gather intelligence. I am no trainer."
Professor Oak leaned forward on the table. "I hope you understand, Gold, that overthrowing an emperor is no easy business. Whether in the shadows or on the battlefield, each must play their part."
Ethan nodded.
Professor Oak clapped his hands together. "It is of grave importance that this information and the Sprout Tower broach reaches Professor Elm quickly and quietly. Time is of the essence! No one but us knows that the Sprout Tower will betray House Alemov. If news of this spreads, then everything we've worked for will collapse upon itself." Then he smiled wide: a wise, grandfatherly smile. "But, we aren't in such a hurry that you can't stay for lunch, if you'd like."
Mister Pokemon cast a glare at the professor. "So long as it is the legendary pokemon professor making us lunch."
It was only ten in the morning, well before what any normal person would consider lunch, but Ethan accepted the food nonetheless. One does not simply deny an invitation from Professor Oak. The food wasn't anything special: just some toasted bread with a magikarp spread. The next couple hours were spent with idle conversation. Mister Pokemon kept sending a considering look Ethan's way; it didn't give off either an overtly positive or negative vibe, but it still made him feel uncomfortable. It was as if the woman was trying to divine his secrets just by looking at him.
Even Professor Oak kept glancing oddly at Ethan. At first, he thought it a compliment – after all, who wouldn't want to be the focus of the infamous professor's attention? But he too had prying eyes, and Ethan resorted to eating his food in silence, keeping his head ducked down. If he couldn't stop their intensive gazes, he could at least try his hardest to ignore them.
The door opened suddenly, unleashing a chilly gust of wind inside. Mister Drifloon hustled in, his white beard frizzled in all directions. He immediately turned to the Professor and Mister Pokemon.
Mister Pokemon spoke before he could. "What are you doing here? You were supposed to stay on Main Street!"
"Beg your pardon, Mister P, but we have a…" Mister Drifloon cut his words short. He cast a quick glance at Ethan, then refocused his gaze to Mister Pokemon. "I stopped by the telegram office – late morning, as I always do – and, well, we received a telegram from…" Again, he cut himself short, casting a slight glance towards Ethan. He held the telegram towards Mister Pokemon. "Perhaps you should just take a look, ma'am."
Pursing her lips, Mister Pokemon took the telegram. Her eyes gradually widened as she read its contents, and then she passed it along to Professor Oak, who was peering over her shoulder curiously. His reaction was much the same.
"May I see the telegram?" Ethan said.
Professor Oak looked up at Ethan and made a face. After a moment, he took a matchbook out of his pocket, lit a match, and took it to the telegram. "I wouldn't worry about it," the professor said as he watched the ash flitter towards the table. "In fact, forget what I said about taking the broach to Elm. Go to Violet City directly from here and meet with the kannushi."
"What?" Both Ethan and Mister Pokemon said at the same time.
Professor Oak ignored Mister Pokemon, keeping his attention squarely on Ethan. "You heard what I said. We will relay the information to Elm that we changed your task." The old professor's gaze softened. "I trust you, Gold. I see great potential in you. Can you do this for me?"
Ethan looked from Professor Oak to Mister Pokemon to Mister Drifloon. All had the same expecting look on their face. He knew what it meant; Professor Oak made an order, and you do not disobey his order. "Well, thank you for hosting me," he said awkwardly. "I won't let you down, Professor Oak." He turned to walk out the door, then suddenly stopped and turned around. "For Nihon," he added.
Their reactions were not what he expected. Instead of the expected "For Nihon" response, they each looked at each other with curiosity painted on their faces. Ethan couldn't quite understand why; he and Professor Elm always repeated that phrase after a meeting. Did they do things differently in Cherrygrove?
"Just get to Violet City," Mister Pokemon said after a moment's silence.
Feeling embarrassed, Ethan walked out the door.
…
Neither the wind nor the gray sky had not cleared since the morning; if anything, the wind blew harder and the sky seemed darker. In the distance, a bell rung twelve times.
Like a leaf in the wind, Ethan drifted down the crisscross of streets towards Blossom Square. He only had one thing on his mind as he walked: Professor Oak told him to go to Violet City.
Oak.
How would Elm react to the news? Did it even matter? It wasn't like Ethan would be the one to tell the professor. Besides, Oak and Elm were on the same team. Surely an order from Oak was the same as an order from Elm.
Regardless, he would need supplies for the trip north. Perhaps, if Dontin and Hajime were heading towards Violet City, he could team up with them again, but he didn't want to plan on it; he wanted to be prepared in case he needed to make the trip alone. Then there was the aspect of timing, too; he already made a poor impression with his tardiness, and he would not make that same mistake with the Sprout Tower. He would leave tonight, and sleep on Route 31. More money spent on supplies and less on expensive rooms for the night, and all that.
By the end of his shopping spree, his pack was heavier by five pokeballs, a few packages of dried tauros meat, and some packages of nuts and dehydrated berries. Now, he only had one thousand Yen left to his name. The wind still whipped between the buildings considerably, and the sky had grown darker, the bruised sky turning black. By the way his stomach grumbled, he assumed it had to be around evening. So, he walked in search of a nice meal before he left Cherrygrove.
Somehow, his legs had brought him to the harbor district, where a fishy smell hung between the squat, dirty buildings. Sailors, sweating and stinking of ocean salt, walked between the narrow avenues, their equally sweaty and smelly pokemon following them. The wind was greater here, blowing the cloth lines that hung between the buildings violently, threating to drag away the clothes from their clips. Even Ethan had to keep one hand on his hat to stop it from blowing away and another in front of his eyes to stop the dirt and dust from blinding him.
And then he was at the water front. Small, sail-driven fishing vessels docked and rocked in the disturbed water. The Cherrygrove harbor was too shallow and rocky for large trading ships to dock, so many of the larger ships were floating out a ways in the middle of the water. The harbor was an open area, and only a few buildings stood near the water. One building was a particular source of drunken, raucous laughter. Underneath a sign that read Mystic Water Brewery and Company, sailors stumbled into and out of the building, and others loitered outside, smoking tobacco.
Almost immediately, he was stopped inside by a large, bald man with tattoos rising up his arms and neck and hariyama wearing a red sash across its ample stomach. After a tense moment where the two stared at Ethan, appraising him up and down, front and back, they stepped aside and let him into the bar.
The smog of tobacco smoke hung in the hair like a specter. In the corner, a radio blared the latest hits from Goldenrod Radio.
He spotted Hajime's gray ponytail and Dontin's balding head. Both men sat next to each other at the bar. I don't see Gulin and Kalin. Thank the Gods, he thought.
"How's it going, guys?" Ethan said as he approached the bar. He had to yell over the chattering and music playing. "Miss me yet?"
Both turned their heads, but Dontin spoke first. "Gold! I thought I told you to come yesterday." He flagged down the bartender. "Doesn't matter, though. I forgive you. Grab a seat and I'll grab you a beer."
Ethan grabbed a seat next to Hajime. In the dim lighting, the shadows lined the wrinkles on the older man's face. He looked at the newspaper - the Cherry Tribune – that was on the bar top before turning his attention back to Ethan. His face looked grim.
"What's up with you, Hajime?" Ethan said. "Is everything alright?"
Hajime gave another quick glance at the newspaper. He smiled, or rather tried to. "Oh, you know me, kid. I en't doin' half bad. Heard someone with a quilava set fire to a tree in Blossom Square yesterday. You wouldn't happen ta' know 'bout that, wouldya?"
"You heard about that too? News sure travels fast here."
"Cherrygrove en't as big as it looks, Gold," Hajime said. "I thought I –"
"Beer here!" Dontin said, sliding a beer Ethan's way, foam spilling off the top. Ethan took a sip, then raised the glass in thanks.
"As I was sayin'," Hajime continued, "I thought I told ya' ta' be careful with fire pokemon?"
"I was! Doresey had that raticate handled easily! It's just that, well – Doresey missed is all. There wouldn't have been a fire if the attack hit."
Hajime shook his head. "You don't listen, do ya'? I thought I told you to be careful, Gold. Fire pokemon en't toys. But, that en't what's really concernin' me. Tell me: how are you feeling?"
Before Ethan could address the question, Dontin piped up once more: "Hey Gold, did you hear about the attack on New Bark yesterday?"
All the noise and drunken debauchery in the bar became a distant distraction to Ethan. From the corner of his eye, he thought he saw Hajime smack his hand against his face, but that too was only a distant distraction. There was only one though on his mind. "WHAT!?"
Dontin looked about to speak, but Hajime promptly slapped a hand over the fat man's mouth. "So you en't heard the news yet," Hajime said as he slid the newspaper to Ethan.
Jaw dropped open and hands trembling, Ethan read the front page of the newspaper. Or, he started to, but he quickly stopped. Underneath the printed Cherry Tribune at the top of the page read the article's title: NEW BARK ATTACKED BY RAIDERS; NO SUSPECTS DETERMINED YET. Underneath that read the blurb: Sometime yesterday afternoon, the northern part of the sleepy town of New Bark came under attack by a group of well-armed individuals; some with pokemon, and some with conventional firearms. The attacked seemed well-coordinated, leaving some… And Ethan stopped reading after that.
Breathing shakily, Ethan put down the newspaper. As he wiped a hand across his forehead, he felt the sweat that streaked across his fingers. Professor Elm lived in the northern part of New Bark. Hell, he and his mother lived in the northern part! Immediately, memories of the strangers he and Hajime met on Route 29 came to the forefront of his mind, and the mere thought of them made his stomach sink like a stone.
He looked left. Hajime was looking back with piercing, appraising eyes. With a deep breath, Ethan stood up and walked towards the door. Distantly, he heard Dontin yell, "Where you goin? You barely touched your beer!", but he paid the fat man no mind.
Outside, the wind had picked up considerably and carried a cool, damp chill with it. It was dark, too. Much darker than it should be for a late summer evening. Ethan held both Doresey and the noctowl's pokeball in his hands. He wasn't sure why he was holding them, but the cool surfaces of the pokeballs felt good in his hands. They made him feel strong, powerful.
He stopped in his tracks. He suddenly remembered: Ethan was supposed to go straight to Violet City, and quickly at that.
"Time is of the essence of a revolution. The moment comes and goes in a blink of an eye, and if you miss it, it may be gone forever." Those were Elm's words dancing inside Ethan's head. On the one hand, all of the planning that went into overthrowing Lance could hinge on this moment; if Ethan whiffed, everything could be lost for good. But on the other hand, New Bark was his home. Elm and his mother lived there, and how could he go forward knowing they might be hurt? Hell, he even wanted to make sure Lyra was okay!
Again, Elm's words rang in his mind: "You must be willing to sacrifice if you want to see Lance fall." But, Ethan wasn't sure if he could make this sacrifice. New Bark was attacked, and he wanted – no, needed – to make sure everyone was alright.
For now, Violet City would have to wait.
He continued walking. The wind howled between the buildings with such force that it seemed the Gods themselves tried to stop Ethan in his tracks. There were other sounds like the grinding of streetlamps against their anchors, the flapping of shudders against windows. At one point, he thought he heard something over the wind, but he paid no heed to it. Suddenly, Hajime appeared in front of him, ponytail tossing in the wind and face hard.
"I said stop, kid. En't you listenin'?" Hajime shook his head and spoke before Ethan could. "No, you en't. Yer just stompin' off thinkin' yer gonna save of all New Bark."
Ethan growled underneath his breath. "What's it to you what I do?"
"What's it to me? En't it enough for me to want to help you?"
The two stared at each other for a moment, then Ethan brushed passed Hajime. "Thanks. But I think I can get to New Bark on my own."
"And how exactly will you do that? Can't you see a storm is brewin'? And based on this wind, it'll be bad."
Ethan ignored the comment and kept walking. As they walked back through the harbor district, the street grew narrower. At a particularly narrow junction, Hajime jumped ahead and blocked the road.
"Dammit, Gold! Listen to reason, why don't ya'! I don't care how tough you think you are. It don't do anybody any good if you get yerself hurt!"
With a deep breath, Ethan drooped his head. The rage on Hajime's face faded and he laid a comforting hand on the young trainer's shoulder.
"I'm sure you have folks you care 'bout back home," he said in a soothing voice. "And I'm sure they want to see you safe. It don't do anybody any good if you run off in a fury, only ta' get yerself hurt."
The older man was right. But Ethan didn't care. The fire in his belly rose once more, and he looked up at Hajime with darkness in his eyes. With all his weight, Ethan pushed forward, knocking the older man to the ground.
As he ran through the narrow streets, he thought: Don't worry, I'll be there to help. He wasn't sure how he would help, but he didn't think it mattered, either.
(o)
Mister Pokemon walked circles around the small room, the sound of the wind blowing outside almost drowning out the stomping of her shoes against the wooden floors. Professor Oak sat at the table looking at the telegram Elm sent earlier. Not reading it, just looking at it. For as long as I've known Elm, he had never sent a telegram before, Oak thought, scratching his chin. How bad could the damage to his lab be?
Finally, Oak looked up from the telegram. "Could you please stop pacing? You're making it hard to think."
Mister Pokemon whirled around and planted her hands on her hips. "No, I won't stop pacing! I have too much shit on my mind." Sighing, she took her head in her hands and massaged her temples. "This safehouse is not good anymore. Whoever attacked Elm's lab might know that we're here."
Professor Oak had known Mister Pokemon for a long time, going on twenty years by now. She was strong and capable, but every now and then she seemed to crumple under stress. "Relax, Sasha. We don't even know who attacked Elm's lab. Let's not be too hasty."
"How many times have I told you not to call me that anymore, Oak?"
"What, you're real name?" He offered a smile.
"I said cut the crap! There is no Sasha anymore!"
Oak's smile turned to a frown. "Okay, fine. Mister Pokemon. But I still believe that we should not simply surrender this safehouse. Not yet, at least."
"No, it's too late for suggestions," She said, shaking her head. "I'm going to start making preparations to leave, with or without you. I'm thinking I'll go to Violet City – catch up with the Sprout Tower there, maybe monitor that Gold kid, too."
Oak sighed. As brilliant as Sasha – Mister Pokemon, rather – was, she could be quite stubborn when her mind was set. "Fine. I suppose I'll make preparations to head to Goldenrod City. I know the family of a former acquaintance of Kanto. I'm sure I can stay at their house for a short time."
Mister Pokemon nodded, and for a brief moment, she managed to stand in place. Then, she returned to her pacing, her finger on her chin, her eyes glazed over in thought. "Oak, I need to ask: why the hell did you send Gold to Violet City? Why not let Elm choose someone?"
"Oh, he's not going to Violet City."
The pacing stopped. "What? But you literally told him to –"
"He's not going because once he hears of the attack on New Bark, he'll head back there."
"And what makes you so sure?"
"I got a good read on him. Impulsive, hot-headed. The usual stuff for boys his age. All you need is a little push…"
"Then why ask him to go if you know he'll disobey?"
"I'm planning ahead. Compliment him now, make him think he has my approval. Reap the rewards later." Oak tapped his temple. "He admires me; that much I could see, and it is something I can use. Always think three moves ahead, Mister P. You really should play more chess."
"That's my least favorite of the Old World games. I prefer checkers myself." Mister Pokemon shook her head. "Gods, all this plotting and manipulating… Sometimes you scare me, Oak. You really do."
Oak shrugged. "You don't get to where I am without knowing how to manipulate."
"What, in a one-room shack, in hiding, in a second-rate Johtoan city?"
"Very funny. But I've learned from my mistakes. Gold will succeed where Blue failed. I can feel it."
Mister Pokemon nodded absently. "I still don't see what you see in him," she muttered, and then continued pacing.
To Oak's eyes, the woman seemed to have her route perfectly planned. First, she would walk to the stovetop, then the door, then to the bedrooms, and then back to the table. Like clockwork.
"What's still on your mind, Sa – Mister P?" Oak said after watching her complete a third circuit.
Mister Pokemon ran her hands through her hair and leaned her head back. "Ugh! It's just – the way that meeting with that kid ended has got me all riled up! 'For Nihon!', he said. What the hell is that?"
"Well, before there was a Kanto or Johto or Sinnoh, the country of Japan used to rule over these islands before the Reckoning. Based on what I've read from historical texts, Nihon is the word for Japan in its traditional tongue." Oak leaned back in his chair. "As for why Gold said that in such a declarative way, I could not tell you."
Mister Pokemon waved her hand as if trying to push away a bad smell. "No, not that. I know what Nihon is. What I mean is – why did he say it? I can only imagine he expected us to respond similarly."
"Well, I suppose that is something Elm would have influenced Gold to say, that's for sure…"
"Do you think we can trust him?"
Oak cast a sharp look at Mister Pokemon. "Gold? Yes, I'd say we can. I told you: teenage boys are quite malleable."
Mister Pokemon shook her head. "I wasn't talking about the kid."
(o)