King paced back and forth along the docks, wiping his hands on his pants, occasionally running them through his hair. After about damn near a thousand days of traveling, he'd finally arrived in Humilau City: his childhood home before his father had kicked him out of the house. King spent the entirety of the journey to Humilau trying to convince himself that he was ready to face his father, that there was less than nothing to be worried about.
All that preparation had been for nothing the second he'd stepped into the city.
He groaned, scrubbing his face with his hands as he plopped on the edge of the dock, feet dangling over the water. His breath turned to puffs of fog in front of him. This isn't like me. I don't get this nervous.
If you ever set foot in my gym, I swear I will make sure ya' wished ya' never became a trainer. His father's words echoed in his mind. What if King challenged that bastard and lost? It would mean that everything he'd ever said, about how King was worthless, about he'd never be good enough, were true. King had tactical strategy in battle; he had a bond with his Pokemon: something he'd been missing for the longest time. If he couldn't beat the bastard now, then he'd never be able to.
Get six Pokemon first, he thought. You still only have four. Yes. That was true. He would come back at a later time when he trained his Pokemon and captured two others.
He sighed, shaking his head. No, he couldn't do that. It was now or never. The economy of Unova, maybe even society itself, was collapsing. Who knew how long he'd even be able to remain a trainer? How long until protesters came to Humilau and made his father step down as gym leader?
Not very long, King guessed. If the bastard was even still around.
His gaze turned to the horizon. Flakes spun from the sky, melting into the clear waters, gathering on King's lap, head, and shoulders. The snow brought back memories of the winter he'd spent in Humilau as a kid. It never snowed much on this part of the cast - never enough to build a snowman or anything - but he'd spent a good amount of days running around with his mother, trying to catch the flakes in his mouth.
The waves bubbling against the pillars supporting the dock, as well, reminded him of his mother as did the salty smells and the grainy wood of the small houses, so different from the towering building of the city. She had loved all of it.
Thinking of those memories - and not the ones with his father - calmed him. The feeling of nervousness in his chest simmered down to an insignificant thing. His mother had at least been kind to him. That was the last person he'd ever truly been close with, he realized. He wasn't positive how he felt about that.
He pushed himself to a stand. Now or never. It's time to show that old bastard what I can finally do.
Turning, he started to walk along the docks toward the gym at the other end of town, jaw set with determination. As long as protesters hadn't come and driven the bastard out, his father would be inside the gym. King wondered if gym leaders even got paid by the government anymore, considering the financial situation of Unova. Any gym leader still in business would necessarily be non-profit, he guessed.
He stepped in front of the gym, shaking. Whether it was because of the cold or another side effect of his nerves, he didn't know. He could see his reflection in the gym's windows and shook the snow out of his hair. No one seemed to be in there: challenger or gym leader. Not that King had expected there to be challengers, but since that was true, his father was probably in the back room.
The sliding glass doors parted for him as he moved forward. Well. Here goes noth-
A scream sounded through the town.
King froze, whipping around to look for its source. There was nothing he could see, but someone didn't scream like that unless they were in serious trouble. He bolted, momentarily forgetting the gym behind him, arms pumping and feet slapping against the dock. He turned a corner toward the shopping district, then stumbled, barely catching himself from falling as he pulled to a stop. His eyes went wide.
His father was fighting with two young women. He had hold of one of them, trying to yank something King couldn't see from her hands. The other was desperately attempting to pry his hands off of her companion.
"What in the hell is going on?" King shouted.
His father's arms went limp, releasing their grip on the item. The girl he was fighting with took the opportunity to scramble away, and she huddled together with the other girl, breathing heavily. King could make out what she was holding then, a large, pearl-like orb.
His father turned slowly. He looked King up and down with those same cold, lifeless eyes.
"Well, fuckin' well," the bastard said. "Look who it is. My degenerate of a son."
King straightened, his palms growing sweaty. He wouldn't back down. He wouldn't. "Wow, you've stooped lower than I ever thought possible. Assaulting women in broad daylight? Low, even for you."
"You mind ya' own goddamn business, boy," the bastard snapped. "Didn't I tell ya' what would happen if ya' ever set foot in this city again?"
King clenched his jaw.
"Well?" His father exploded. "Didn't I?"
Even after all the time he'd spent away from the bastard, King still fought the urge to cringe against that voice. Somehow he managed to keep a neutral expression, or so he hoped. "I know what you said. I'm here anyway. Good thing, too, else-"
"Oho! You didn't come to challenge me, did ya'? Did ya'?"
"That's exactly why I'm here, you old bastard."
His father cackled, bringing a hand to his waist. King realized that he had six Ultraballs strapped to his best. "I'm certainly glad I ran and grabbed these here, Pokemon, after all."
King reached back and pulled at the zipper on his pack. Immediately, a beam of white light shot from it, combining in front of King on the dock. Zoroark appeared a split second later.
I'm here, King. You can rely on me.
King smirked. "Miss ya', old buddy. Let's do this."
His father released a carracosta. The two girls backed up further.
A salamence crashed onto the dock between King and his father, a woman on the Pokemon's back. Wood splintered, chips scattering into the air. King staggered from the impact.
"Sylvia!" One of the girls, the one with the blond hair, said.
The woman slid off of salamence. "You two put away your Pokemon. There's no time for a battle."
She returned salamence to his Pokeball. King balked at the strange woman, and his father growled in annoyance.
"Sylvia," the bastard said. "Get out of the damn way."
"It's nice to see you, too," the woman - Sylvia - said, placing her hands on her hips. "Now. Stop acting like a child and put that Pokemon away. Ah, girls. I see you've kept the Light Stone safe as I asked. Good."
Who is this woman? Zoroark asked.
King shook his head, stepping beside him. "No idea. I'm not going to return you just yet: she seems to be directing her attention more at the old bastard."
"You're finally here," the pink-haired girl said. "Take this stupid Light Stone. We don't want it anymore."
Sylvia raised an eyebrow. "And why is that?"
The pink-haired girl glared at King's father. "It's too dangerous to have anymore."
"Don't tell me he tried to - oh, for crying out loud, put that carracosta away!"
His father grumbled but obliged, leaving King staring in surprise. The bastard had never listened to anyone. Who was this woman?
"You were trying to take the Light Stone, weren't you?" She asked.
"You bet your damn pants I was," the bastard snapped. "If it weren't for that boy over there, Reshiram would be mine already."
What the? Reshiram?
Sylvia turned to regard King, then just as quickly looked back at his father. "So you wanted Reshiram's power for yourself. Jeez, I should have known. But I can excuse both that and your nasty attitude if you agree to help me. Alder is…" She sighed. "Alder is dead. The Elite Four has been taken over by a group of extremely powerful trainers."
"They killed Alder?" The blond girl whispered, so quiet King could barely hear.
"Yes, they did," Sylvia nodded.
"Alright," his father said. "Give me the Light Stone, and you'll get all the help ya' need."
The pink-haired girl opened her mouth to say something, but Sylvia shook her head. "Not going to happen."
"Then the three of you fuckers can kiss my ass!" His father pushed past Sylvia, grumbling. He stopped when he walked next to King. "You got lucky this time, boy. You weren't ready. You'll never be."
He disappeared around the corner. King glared at his back.
Sylvia let out a long breath of air. "I hate that guy. He's your father, right?"
"Unfortunately."
"You two look alike," she said, rubbing her forehead. "I hope you don't act alike, too."
King shook his head. "No. We don't. I'd appreciate an explanation about everything that's going on here, though. What is this about the Elite Four falling?"
Sylvia nodded. "Yeah. Alright. Is there any place where we might be able to talk in private?"
"Not sure," King admitted. "Beach is probably the only one I can think of."
"Right. That's where we'll be going then. You two girls, you come as well. This is important. Extremely so.