We have finally got past 100 followers! Thank you all for being such kind and supportive readers (even though I was MIA for more than four months), and now I present to you Chapter 19!(finally!) Do pardon my tardiness and hope that everyone will continue to enjoy this story. :)

Komorebi

The Burned Tower, branded as a heritage site, was everything unlike the reputation it has. It had no fancy gold accents on the door, no elegantly sloped roofs, no infinite number of floors, no exquisite carvings on the wood. 150 years ago, everything it once had was suddenly gone, its appearance reduce to a mere, run-down place that was not every tall enough to be called a "tower", it's "roof" full of gaping wounds and burnt marks, the sunlight that intrudes into the first floor piercing the wooden, dusty ground. Despite its history, hardly anyone would cast one glance at this sad mess of a heritage site.

He found himself often coming here, sitting onto the flaky wooden planks, as he stares up at the "roof" of the Burned Tower, his mind cancelling out the noise with blank thoughts, his pupils dilating as he observed the dust that swirls about under the light, like cosmic stars of the night calling out and grabbing his attention. The Rattatas and Koffings that roamed within the inky corners of the first floor paid no heed to the human, all too familiar with his presence inside their lonely abode. No one except for him will come this deep into the Burned Tower, and there he sat, immersed into his own empty world of silence. He found his frequent visits to be a sort of obligation as the head of the Matsuba Clan, perhaps his odd habit was linked to his ancestors, the ones from 150 years ago that would go to the highest floor of the once grand and beautiful Burned Tower and communicate with a Legendary Pokemon. Or so that what the rumors said. Sometimes he would lament, why did the building burned down on that fateful day 150 years ago, and why did no one ever seem to care much about this place anymore. It was no longer possible to repair it, there were no blueprints, no human capable to remembering its last appearance, and no one that can hope to restore it to its former glory.

Morty could stay in the place for hours. He could sit there motionlessly, like a dead man, as he breathed in the air. Memories can flood into him, and often he couldn't differentiate whether the memories belonged to him, or whether they belonged to some fella from 150 years ago. He thought that if he stayed here longer, he could make sense of the air, of something ancient that was buried deep inside the walls of the tower. He always wanted to meet Ho-Oh, thinking that maybe the Legendary Pokemon was the one that his ancestors talk to in the past, and maybe that it could tell him what exactly happened on the day the tower was burned down to nearly nothing.

Hearing the noise of someone's shoes scraping against the ground, Morty broke away from his thoughts, and his eyes instantly found where the noise came from. An old lady stood at the entrance, erect, one hand holding onto a weirdly shaped cane. She wore a purple dress, a white apron around her waist. He couldn't quite make out her face, for the bright afternoon sun stung his eyes. He narrowed his eyes, squinting hard at the unannounced visitor.

"I'm here to find the Mystic Seer," the old lady barked, rather arrogantly. "Have you seen him, brat?"

Morty picked himself up from the ground, patting away the dust on his pants away, as he answered, "I'm the Mystic Seer, how can I help you?"

"You?" The old lady's tone was sarcastic, as she continued. "Ryuuji's no young, naive brat like you. Where is the old man?"

Morty seemed to freeze for a moment, before he slowly replied, "My grandfather passed away seven years ago."

"Oh. He died."

The answer was a passive one, as if she had expected this to come. She stood there, erect as she was, as she drummed her fingers onto the round, bumpy tip of her cane. Meanwhile, a cloud passed by, shutting out the blinding light. Morty stared straight ahead, rather surprised whoever she was. Agatha Kikuko, the oldest Elite Four.

She held her cane firmly, before she used it to point towards Morty directly, a grumpy look on her wrinkled face.

"Current head of the Matsuba Clan?"

"Yes."

"What about Hyogo?"

"My father's ill."

"Age?

"Twenty."

"Name?"

"Morty."

"Your real name," she snapped. "Not some nickname or aliases you took up."

"Ryota," he answered directly.

"Ryota Matsuba." Agatha pondered a little, and then continued. "Not a bad name that man gave you."

For a second there, Morty got a glimpse of sadness that glazed over the old lady's eyes, but soon the sorrow was blown away, fleeting like the wind. She then stared straight at him, her gaze piercing enough to be mistaken to be a glare.

"So," she began, with a testy look on her face. "You should be able to see the future. Like how Ryuuji did."

The world was full of strange, powerful and mysterious things. And the Matsuba clan had all three words to describe themselves. Each head of the clan was able to foretell the future, from individuals to the whole world. Thanks to this gift, it was said that disasters were avoided and numerous lives were saved. Some may say the clan received this power from a powerful Psychic-type Pokémon, while others may argue that the power is a curse, for the clan may as well be the ones responsible for bringing forth those disasters. It caused quite a stir in the distant past, but now the clan has faded slowly into the background, blending with modern society, with only a few knowing about the wondrous power of the Matsubas. And Agatha was one of them.

Morty did not react whatsoever. Agatha did not really care if he wanted to react or not, she continued to stare at the young man with a critical eye, and he stood still, feeling every part of him being assessed and judged by the elderly Elite. She walked over with firm steps, the sound of her cane hitting the wooden planks resonating with the thumping of Morty's heart. The Gym Leader gulped nervously as the Elite stopped in front of him, and even though she was very much shorter than himself, he could feel the immense pressure emanating from the seasoned Ghost-Type trainer.

"Well, what are you standing here for?" Agatha sharply spoke, her cane rapping the ground in evident displeasure. "Do your thing!"

Morty knew what the old lady was talking about. She wanted him to see her future, and somewhere in his mind, he was aware that Agatha had came to see his grandfather, Ryuuji, a number of times in the past. He wasn't quite sure what was the Elite's relationship with his grandfather. From the looks of it, they were not close, but there was definitely something deeper about their connection. The Gym Leader closed his eyes, his mind blank as he tried to concentrate.

Now, the whole clairvoyance business was not actually done by him. The rumors were half-correct, half-wrong, and in fact, Morty was only a communicator. The true identity of the clairvoyant of the Matsuba clan was...

Sei.

As Morty uttered the ancient name in his head, a ripple in time reached outwards, subtle and incredibly quiet.

He appeared.

Floating before the Gym Leader lazily, his hair was as curly and as blonde as Morty's, where a small ponytail poked out at the back. He wore rich red, purple and white Japanese robes made of silk and expensive materials that signified high standing in old Japan. He appeared extremely laid back, jovial, while a fearsome fighting spirit and wisdom glinted behind his violet eyes. Two small religious bells were tied to a small braid that hung down playfully from the side of his face, ringing faintly as the ghost wavered. Head resting against his arms, he did not even take notice of Morty as he continued to float around the man, his body translucent and seemingly turning transparent a couple of times.

Matsuba Sei was what you'll call, a human ghost.

Sei was Morty's ancestor, the one who wields the power to see the future. Morty was told by his grandfather that Sei had made a pact with Dialga when he was still alive, and he was so adored by the Pokémon that after he died at the young age of thirty, his soul was given a form only visible by his descendants, and now here he stays permanently in the Matsuba Clan, as the clairvoyant and the only ghost resident.

"Ora, ora? Isn't this Ryokichi?" the ghost of Matsuba Sei spoke, his voice only audible to Morty. "It's been so long since you called me out."

It wasn't that long, Seikichi. Five years, give or take.

"Five years made Ryokichi's mouth smarter, it seems."

Five years and you're still the same old Seikichi.

"It's Sei!" The ghost cried out.

Oh, hi, Sei. I'm Ryota. Morty replied, sarcasm lined within his words.

"You're so uncute," Sei grumbled.

I'm not trying to be cute in the first place.

Sei chuckled a little, before he gently turned around, his extravagant clothing billowing in an ethereal manner. Noticing Agatha, a smirk was formed on his lips, his eyes twinkling with a strange light.

"Ora, it's you again," he uttered, even though the old lady could not hear his words, much less see him.

You know her?

"Of course I know her. She used to come and get her fortune told when Ryuuji was still alive."

Morty merely raised a brow for a few seconds, before he shrugged lightly. Okay, okay, you can start anytime you want.

Sei shrugged and turned away as he said, "Hmph! Ain't doing it."

Huh!? Why? Morty screamed in his mind, almost losing his cool. Agatha started tapping her cane again and again, and the Gym Leader broke out in cold sweat as he gave the Elite an awkward smile.

Sei grumpily stared at his descendant, arms crossed as he continued, "In the end, she'll die. All humans die so there's no point in me wasting my precious energy in useless fortunetelling."

Please? Morty pleaded. She won't leave unless I give her an answer.

"Oh, fine," Sei deadpanned as he floated listlessly towards the old lady. His fortunetelling wasn't as glamorous or spooky or anything like those portrayed in movies. He only had to focus for less than a second, say the fortune and they were done. It really did not take much waiting.

Yet after a whole minute had passed, Sei had no sign of movement. Morty started wondering what was wrong, as he started approaching the ghost very slowly, with Agatha looking at him weirdly, before she dismissed his odd actions with a sigh. The Gym Leader then laid his eyes onto Sei's expression and he froze immediately afterwards.

Matsuba Sei was crying.

His violet eyes were wide open, the whites so stark... white, that he could be mistaken to be a dead man walking... no, floating. Well, he is dead. Drops of tears rolled out the edge of his eye, and for a long while, Morty was perturbed by this strange situation. He never thought ghosts could cry. Much less Matsuba Sei.

Suddenly, the ghost murmured words, the sound of them brittle and dead. He strained to listen, blinking his eyes confusedly when he heard three, rather distinct words coming out of the ghost's mouth.

"Red eyes... Neo?"

Morty did not really understand. In the first place, he never really understood Sei. Even after twenty years.

His ancestor broke out from his trance abruptly, realizing what he had been doing. He hurriedly wiped away his tears, fidgeted a little, adjusted his sleeves, before brushing it off by saying Agatha's fortune in a half-hearted manner.

"She'll lose to two people in the upcoming Indigo League Championships."

Morty took a long look at Sei, who stared back at him, eyes narrowed, as if telling him to switch his attention back to the old lady. The Gym Leader shrugged, and turning to Agatha, he relayed whatever Sei had foretold to her.

"You'll lose to two people in the upcoming Indigo League Championships."

Agatha rubbed her chin pensively, before she looked up at Morty, seemingly unfazed that she was going to lose. He supposed that after being an Elite for almost five decades, it was probably normal for her to experience defeat occasionally. He wondered if he tried being a Gym Leader for five decades, would he experience more than a hundred defeats. Maybe I should start counting, and there he made a mental note to himself.

"So when will I die?" she asked, so naturally that Morty was shocked at how calm she appeared when she asked that.

"I don't foretell deaths," Morty said firmly, stealing a glance at Sei, who was fiddling with the bells tied to his hair. The ghost caught his gaze and momentarily pausing his bored act of playing with bells, he shrugged his shoulders.

"I see," Agatha answered, as she gazed steely at Morty, unnerving him. Maybe it was because she was a fellow Ghost-type Specialist. Maybe that could explain why he could feel chills of displeasure creeping up on his back.

"Good day to you, Ryota Matsuba," said the old lady, a sour tinge in her voice. The tapping of her cane followed after, and soon her figure had walked away, out of the Burned Tower. All that was left inside the heritage site was Morty Matsuba, and a ghost that was centuries older than himself. The ambiance of the Burned Tower flooded the interior all over again, and letting out a relieved sigh, Morty dropped onto the floor, the tension and anxiety leaving his body. A soft silence clouded over ghost and human, or perhaps in this place, the line between the living and dead was blurred.

"So human ghosts can cry," he said out loud. No more need for ghost telepathy when they were alone.

"Pretty much."

Yet another thin silence lingered around for a while, before Morty asked, "So when will Agatha die?"

"Why do you need to know?" Sei answered, quirking his brow bemusedly.

"No reason. Maybe I want to show myself that you can foretell the deaths of living beings."

Sei chuckled loudly, a smile lining on his lips.

"I do foretell deaths, Ryota. It's just that I never tell them to people," he said without batting an eye. "Humans are always so fixated on the most trivial things when all they should do, is to be focused on living."

"Big words coming from you," Morty commented lightly. "Did you not try to foretell your own death when you were still alive?"

Sei flinched, caught off-guard by the sudden question. He quickly loosened his shoulders, and somberly answered, "Of course I did." He smacked his lips smartly, his violet eyes rolling over to look at Morty. "But what use did it have? I still died, right on time."

"That's unfortunate."

Sei smiled, saying, "It's not that bad to die, you know."

"Maybe," Morty replied softly as his eyes followed the specks of dust that danced beneath the sunlight. He sighed, comforted by the warmth. "Can someone not die?" he asked without thinking, before he laughed at himself inside his mind. There was no way that humans can be immortals. He turned his head around, wanting to joke about the thought, until he saw the expression on Sei's face. The ghost was biting his lower lip, creases haunting the space between his eyebrows, a grim and dim light within his violet eyes.

And then, he was gone.

His eyes blinked open, the scarlet in them burning.

An incredible sense of calmness and rationality swept over Red, his red eyes fixated on his Pokémon, so focused as his field of vision blocked out everything else except for the arena. His brain picked up the necessary information he needed, filtering them out as he started formulating a plan inside his head.

At the average rate at which a Pikachu can replenish its electricity, he estimated that it would take at least four minutes before his Pikachu could move in to attack. It sounded like a very swift business, but in fact, four minutes was nothing but trouble.

Gengar was already trying to get back to his trainer, using the move Double Team like before, slowly but surely. Red took a deep breath, and glanced at the distance between Gengar and Morty, determining that the Ghost-type would definitely be able to return to his opponent in three minutes. And once it managed to return, Gengar will restore its health and remove its paralysis. Afterwards, the outcome of the match will be dependent on whose stamina was better. Playing out a game of stamina wasn't going to be easy. Plus exhausting all of Pikachu's energy at only the first battle of the second match would be a bad idea.

It was strike now, or never.

Yet the problem presented itself before the trainer. Considering the current situation, Pikachu was unable to attack, at all. His Quick Attacks were useless and there were no other non-normal moves in Pikachu's arsenal. He could use Tail Whip as the last resort but it would do little to help, especially when it comes to Gengar's solid defense. Biting his lower lip, Red frowned, and somewhere in his head, he was seriously regretting for not teaching and training Pikachu other type attack moves. And in another part of his head, he tried to remember the type moves that were available to the Electric Mouse species, while scolding himself for being dumb during such desperate situations. It wasn't as if he could teach-

His eyes widened, the idea coming to him like a spark, half of it nonsensical, the other half logical. Well, mostly nonsensical. He thought he shouldn't try it, but he found his mouth shouting battle commands to Pikachu, as if his body had disconnected from his brain. Pikachu obeyed, sprinting towards Gengar again, his tail swiftly slapping onto the ghostly creature. Gengar blinked furiously, surprised that his opponent could suddenly touch itself, before it realized the protective layer over its gaseous body being whittled away.

"Tail Whip?" Whitney said out loud in surprise. "Why Tail Whip? There's no point if he can't even attack."

"Maybe... he's... trying to drop Gengar's defense as much as he could while Pikachu is recharging? It can give him a better chance-" Mitch suggested timidly.

"But it won't do much," Lance interjected.

"Indeed," Chuck agreed with a nod of the head. "He's definitely doing something else."

"Put more force into that Tail Whip, Pikachu!" Red instructed firmly. "Imagine your tail as an iron hammer!"

As the group of trainers discussed among themselves, Red shouted across to Pikachu, breaking their conversation as all of them looked towards the arena with looks of utter surprise and confusion written all over their faces.

"What in Arceus?" Lance gasped, when it occurred to him what the boy was attempting to do. But it can't be. The chances of it succeeding was unheard of. Because no one ever tried to prove it before.

The Theory of Move Type Transforming.

Lance remembered reading about it. A theory proposed by the young Professor Kukui of Alola, a man who specialised in researching Pokemon moves, it speaks of how many type moves are very similar to each other, such as Shadow Punch, Mega Punch, Thunderpunch, and suggests that these moves can be used interchangeably if applied correctly. It was a fresh theory, but there wasn't much support from fellow researchers when the paper first came out, since Kukui himself had only entered the research field for a few months and did not have much prestige. True, the man himself was a formidable trainer and pro wrestler, and Lance could clearly remember the time when Kukui had came to the Indigo League and challenged the Elite Four, just to be defeated by Lance himself.

And if everything sounds and looks like it, Red was trying to transform Tail Whip into Iron Tail.

From Normal to Steel.

Pikachu swung his tail, harder and harder each time, while Gengar winced again and again, feeling the sting in the stat-reducing move. Bit by bit, damage was dealt. Bit by bit, the nature and type of Tail Whip was changing.

"Think of an iron hammer!" Red yelled, perspiration rolling down his forehead as he clenched his fists tight. It had to work. It had to.

Meanwhile, Pikachu gritted his teeth, forcing his tail down once again. He felt tired, his tail muscles sore and painful, almost as if his tail was about to drop off. He just did what he was told, not really thinking twice whether his trainer was thinking straight, but the least he could do now, was to trust Red. That was all he willed himself to imagine a hammer. One with a wooden handle and a dumbbell-shaped lump of metal on it. He was going to swing a hammer. The strongest and hardest hammer in the world at Gengar.

His tail went heavier than ever, and he instantly felt the weight, dropping his tail onto his foe, and before he knew what was happening, it happened.

A shiny, metallic sheen covered his tail, and it started glowing, flickering with a white light.

Then it hit the Ghost Type Pokemon, like an anchor, right on the head. Pikachu widened his eyes in surprise, finding it almost miraculous that he managed to pull off an Iron Tail without any prior training.

No, wait that was wrong.

He trained. He trained his ass off up on that mountain, and Red had foresee that his body was strong enough to learn new moves easily. His trainer knew, and expected him to be able to do an Iron Tail.

And he did.

Giving a small smile, Pikachu ignored Gengar's cries of pain and swung down his tail, with Iron Tail in full effect. The Ghost Type fell, and as it did, the status monitor snapped back to life, revealing Gengar's HP bar draining away, down to the last bit of red.

Pikachu somersaulted away, landing perfectly on his hind legs, and as he stood up straight, he panted heavily. Mitch announced the usual, and when he counted down to zero, it was like a collective sense of relief and euphoria had enveloped both Red and him. He turned over, gazing at his trainer, the boy himself grinning wildly, red eyes twinkling with excitement. He let out a "pika" in return, and before he knew it, he had ignored all the fatigue that built up inside his system, and jumped into Red's arms, gleefully nudging his trainer's cheeks with his own, sparks of electricity tingling the boy. Red squeezed his Pokemon tighter than ever. Gengar laid sprawled on the ground, defeated, as it's Mega-Evolution form dissipated away like mist. Morty clicked the button of his Pokemon's pokeball, and the Ghost Type instantly distorted into a red flash of light that returned to the small red-white ball.

It didn't take long for squeals and yells of disbelief to emerge from the witnesses, Mitch looking almost dead with surprise, Chuck' jaw almost dropping to the ground, Jasmine and Whitney simply stunned, while Lance whispered, "Impossible."

They had actually done it.

Move Type Transforming.

A grin was instantly formed on the Dragon Master's face. He suddenly thought off Kukui, the man facing against him during the League Championships nearly 8 years ago. He wondered how he would have reacted, when his theory was actually proven right, inside the Goldenrod City Gym.

Morty let out a satisfied laugh, as he raised his arms up in surrender.

"I lost. I forfeit the match."

"S-Sir?" Mitch called out, the man looking more surprised than ever. "What did you just say?"

"I forfeit. Red wins by default."

"But sir," Mitch objected. "You can't just-"

"Oh, don't sweat the little details, Mitch." Morty sighed, and before Mitch could protest, the Gym Leader was walking over to Red, who was still hugging his Pikachu, the picture of the trainer and Pokemon together looking almost innocent and cute.

"Here's your badge," he said, as he extended his palm out, the shiny Fog Badge resting in the middle of it. Red widened his eyes, as he looked down at the badge, then at Morty. Pikachu clambered out of his trainer's arms, perching on his shoulders, nose twitching as he gazed at Morty curiously.

"We're not battling anymore?" Red said, looking disappointed.

"Why? You still want to?" Morty chuckled. "Not today, kid."

"But-"

"Oh, come on, this is how I do things." Morty grinned as he grabbed Red's hand and placed the badge into it. "Relax, there's always a next time for everything."

Morty then tilted his head up, before he realized how mesmerizing it was to look at the Undefeated Champion's eyes up close. It was truly beautiful, if not in a creepy and mysterious way.

Red eyes.

Neo.

There was this strange chill creeping up on his back, a gut feeling telling him that there was something big going to happen. Perhaps it was a premonition.

But he never gets any premonitions. Not usually. It was Sei's job to tell him if anything bad was about to happen. Now, he supposed he should talk to the queer ghost soon, considering it has been ages since he called him out.

Meanwhile, Mitch announced Red's victory, albeit in a reluctant and confused manner.

As he walked out of the arena, he found Whitney charging straight towards him like her Miltank.

"You lazy idiot! You could have won! Against Red!" Whitney yelled.

"I'm not an idiot, pink," he said jadedly. "I guess Sei was right. Humans are fixated on the most trivial things."

"What did ya say?"

"Nothing. Just talking to myself." Morty smiled mysteriously.

"But I have to agree," a rumbling voice called out. Morty gazed to his left, just to see Chuck and the other two coming over. Chuck then continued, "It was within your capabilities, Morty."

"... Quite a waste..." Jasmine joined in the conversation ruefully.

"But that's how you do things, no?" Lance interjected.

"Glad that you know that, Dragon Master," Morty said, and he pointed towards Whitney. "And I thought you weren't going to cheer for me?

"Of course I was, you colossal idiot!" Whitney stamped her foot angrily. "Idiot, idiot, idiot, idiotic Ryota!"

The Ghost-type Gym Leader let out a suppressed laugh, holding it in, before he flicked Whitney's large forehead.

"Hey!"

"Work on your vocabulary, Akane." He laughed as he sauntered towards the exit of the gym. "I'm going out to chill, so tell me what happened when I get back."

And he left.

"Well, that's that." Chuck shrugged as he plodded back, with Lance chuckling and following behind.

Jasmine turned over to Whitney, before she quickly whispered into the pink-head's ear.

"You're blushing, Whitney."

"No I'm not!" she immediately answered as she covered her cheeks. "Y-You should go and prepare for your battle."

Jasmine smiled good-naturedly, and nodding gently, she headed off into the arena.

The brunette stood opposite of Red, nodding her head towards him as a form of greeting, and the trainer nodded back politely, his Pikachu leaping away from the boy's shoulders, four paws on the ground, his stance that of a battle-ready warrior.

"... I assume that you're done healing up your Pokemon?" she said.

"Yes."

"Including Charizard?"

Red faltered. "Yes... but why?" he asked.

"Oh." Jasmine gasped. "It's just that... I specialise in a type that is weak against fire... It has been a strange habit of mine to give friendly tips to trainers before every battle. I guess that's my nature. "She smiled softly, as she continued. "I'm Jasmine, Olivine City's Gym Leader... And I specialize in Steel Type Pokemon."

"Shall we begin?"

"Sei."

The blonde turned around, seeing his friend walking over, his black hair tousled about by the wind. The man raised a hand to block the wind, but to no avail. In the end, he gave up, leaving the mess alone, letting the wind play with it. As he got closer, Sei held his breath. No matter how many times he sees it, it was always breath-taking.

His red eyes.

"Ora, ora, isn't it Neo?"

This chapter wouldn't have been perfected without the help of SelfiesWithSprinkles, who is a beast of a beta-reader, who pretty much helped me with the proof-reading, as well as LeMrrpingSaladin, and both of them gave me lots of pointers! Looking forward to working with them, and you'll get cleaner writing too :))

Do R&R and tell me your thoughts on this chapter :)