Chapter 4

Belle's leaves slice the branches I toss toward the sky. She excels versus rocks, grass, and trees. Battling other Pokemon, however, remains a struggle. My newer catches are weaker, but they know how to fight: Philip, a Rattata, bares his fangs at his competition before I issue an order; Aris, a Spinarak, springs off six black and yellow legs to ram his stinger into foes recklessly. Born and raised in the lab, Belle lacks the instincts they have. It will take time for her to adjust to a new life.

Life has changed. I've taken control.

"Take a short break." I sit on the grass and flip the PokeDex open for my own training: study every Pokemon entry, all 245 of them, to learn types, strengths, weaknesses, moves, every essential for battling strategy. Occasionally I peek up from the encyclopedia and my notepad to check on Oswald, my Hoothoot, as he swerves through my obstacle course, or to make sure Belle hasn't strayed too far.

She no longer scampers around like in New Bark Town. She takes a few steps at a time, stops, and with a small yelp, looks around the open field. It's a search and call for her sisters to come along this journey, to be with her. She's homesick and lonely these days. I haven't explained that the boy with red hair got away, but my guess is she suspects it. Belle perceives human behavior the best out of the three siblings.

A claw grips my shoulder, and I flail around, scattering my belongings across the ground. It's just my Hoothoot, trying to perch on my shoulder. "Oh, was that the tenth lap?"

A high-pitched hoot, an affirmative.

"Good job, Oswald."

He awaits further instruction while I pick up my stuff. Nicknaming them uneases me, but studies agree that named and unnamed Pokemon respond to different training techniques. Consistency simplifies my job, and Belle was already named.

"Good job, except please don't touch me next time. Or at least give some kind of warning first," I say before returning the Hoothoot to his Pokeball. There's always the ball's taming function, but electroshock training is barbaric. There should be another way to reinforce that despite the pet names, I am their trainer, not a friend.

It's almost sundown. Wild Pidgey and larvae return to their nest and hives. Owls swoop down as rodents and spiders unearth themselves.

"One more round," I say to Belle. "Get these with a single shot."

I heave five branches high above me. Belle fires a leaf with more rotation than usual, curving its trajectory through the air. It cuts four out of five before it veers into a tree trunk and flops to the ground. "Almost. We'll do more tomorrow."

#

My training sticks to Route 29 and 30, close to Cherrygrove City. Elm suggested preparing a strong first impression for Violet City and Sprout Tower. I eat in the Pokemon Center's cafeteria and sleep in its trainer lodgings, both free of charge, because even the lowest ranked trainers enjoy easy lives.

Tonight, two boys no older than eighteen sit across from me as I eat my meal. "You've been around here a lot the last few days," the one with a baseball cap says. "My name's Mikey, from Violet City. How about you?" He offers a handshake.

"Daisy."

"Come on, shake his hand. No? You're a cold one," the other says. He wears a tank top and sunhat, and his bug-catching net rests against the table. "Don, by the way. Why're you so uptight, lady?"

"We're all friendly trainers around here." Mikey flashes a toothy smile. "I bet you're a rookie, right? Well, so are we, so there's nothing to fear. The League wouldn't assign a vet with a few badges under his belt to a snoozefest like Cherrygrove."

"I'm not assigned here," I say. "Just passing through."

"In that case, would you like a tour? Don and I have been on patrol duty here for almost a year now. We have something fun planned for tonight, if you're interested." They snicker.

I wave the brace wrapped around my right wrist in front of their faces. "There was a request from New Bark Town about two weeks ago, asking League trainers in Cherrygrove to search for a thief. If you two are on guard duty, why'd you turn it down? I had to fight the culprit by myself."

"No way I'm taking orders, lady," Don says. "Not if they're from the League or my gym. Nope, I didn't sign up as a trainer to get bossed around."

"Did you sign up as a trainer to spend a year doing nothing in Cherrygrove City, then? Have either of you earned a single badge?"

"Look, not everyone has the ambition to become some four or five badge hotshot. We're just in it for the basic perks."

"Goodnight," I say. I leave my dinner unfinished and exit the Pokemon Center.

#

The Cherrygrove Lodge manager, Elisabeth, remembers me. She thanks her son—eight or nine years old, ten at most—for setting a pot of tea on our table. "Joey, it's getting late. Get ready for bed, I'll be up soon to tuck you in."

"Mom, tomorrow's the first." He touches the Pokeball tied around his neck.

"Don't worry about that, dear, I'll take care of it tomorrow. Run along, now."

"What was that about?" I ask. Elisabeth waits until his footsteps pace upstairs.

"A couple trainers come once a month, to collect the League's protection tax, but they always hike up the price. A lot of people protest, claim extortion. It's better to pay and avoid trouble, right?" Her hands wobble as she pours tea.

"My brother and I grew up in Kanto, in a small town between Celadon and Fuschia. Trainers bullied us the same way. It's the same everywhere, anywhere, without a gym." I watch leaves swirl in my cup. "Of course, whenever there was real trouble, a Doduo stampede or an angry Snorlax, they were useless."

There were no faces at the funeral service. The dead were buried inside caskets, while the living wore veils to hide our tears. We were faceless. But everyone could identify Blue, holding my hand and sniveling as the coffins—one, two, ten, twenty—marched by. I didn't cry; I wouldn't allow it. I was ten: the oldest in the family now.

"But in Kanto," I continue, "trainer rights are restricted to residents of cities with gyms. That's not the case in Johto. Why aren't Cherrygrove's trainers here to protect it?"

"You sound like my daughter." Elisabeth sighs into her lap. "That's why she became a trainer, but the Pokemon League won't assign her here. Vacation days only, never a long-term stay."

"They're doing it on purpose."

"Maybe. But she can't quit now, not while business is so bad." She gestures at the emptiness that fills the room. "Joey looks up to her so much, too. That Pokeball he wears as a necklace? He threw a fit when I bought him that Rattata, even though it's all I could afford. But after Dana promised it belonged in the top percentage of Rattata, he started treasuring the gift with all his heart."

For the first time tonight, a smile dances across her lips.

"I can do something," I say. "I'll step in tomorrow."

"Dana tried, but it only caused more trouble once she left." She sets her hands on the table to push herself up. "I'm going to check on Joey."

I imagine Red and Blue carrying out assignment after assignment, each miles away from home. That must be why they never came back, and why the trainers exploiting Pallet never left. The test case, the reform as the Pokemon League had promised, never existed. Kanto, Johto, nothing changes.

Elisabeth stumbles as she sprints down; she catches herself along the railing.

"Joey's gone. There's a rope outside his window."

#

Winding streets, dim alleys, empty lots—Joey's nowhere to be found. I shout his name and my voice, reverberating through the hollows of Cherrygrove City, is the only response.

"Oswald, search for a boy wearing a Pokeball around his neck." His wings beat as loudly as my heart thumps in my chest.

There's a few people wandering around the Poke Mart's aisles. "Have any of you seen a young boy wandering around alone tonight? Son of the Cherrygrove Lodge manager, elementary school kid, wears a Pokeball around his neck?" Shrugs all around. No one volunteers to help at the Pokemon Center. "Some of you have Pokemon with good night vision," I say, but they shoot me dirty looks. A trainer mouths, "Not my job" as she yawns and props her legs across a couch.

"Do you have rentals?" I ask the nurse at the front desk.

"There are some Hoothoots and Noctowls that could do the job. How many badges do you have?"

"None."

She shakes her head sadly. "I'm sorry, miss, but our policy dictates that renting Hoothoots requires one badge, and Noctowls require three."

As I step back outside, Oswald dives toward me. With several high-pitched hoots and a flicker of his feet, he motions for me to follow. I chase after as he leads me to the outskirts of northern Cherrygrove and Route 30.

A pale aura wraps around everyone in the moonlight. Joey pumps his fist and shouts commands at his Rattata. With a snarl, it leaps at a Pidgey that flies out of the way. The bird circles through the air, toward two trainers standing several yards away, then back to its opponent. Joey's Rattata is ready to pounce but a burst of sand hits its eyes and causes it to cough in place. From the dust cloud, the Pidgey soars out and its talons rip purple fur. One more slash and blood spills from the Rattata's back as it slumps to the ground.

Joey collapses. His voice quivers. "But my Rattata was supposed to be the best."

"Look at it this way, kid." It's Mikey and behind him, laughing alongside, is Don. "If I can beat such a top notch Rattata, I'm worth the money this town is paying me after all, right?"

I run to Joey and pull him into a hug, before his outstretched hand can touch the corpse. Blood spills all over the grass. The stains glow on his hands and knees.

"You call this protection?" I ask.

"Well if it isn't the girl from before. So you decided to join the fun after all?"

"Picking on children half your age—you call this fun?"

Mikey shrugs. "Hey, he's the one who challenged me. Defending his mom, he said. Name a time and place, he said. I'm not supposed to refuse a challenge, right?"

Joey sobs into the side of my waist. "Well, this is another challenge, right here and right now," I say.

"It looks like your Pokemon's already out, so Sand Attack!" Soil kicks up off the ground as my Hoothoot barely flies away in time.

I lean toward Joey's ear and whisper, "Don't worry, I'll get back at them."

Mikey's Pidgey lunges at Oswald as they spiral through the air, but every time he eludes it with ease. Hoothoots have the advantage at night. "Hypnosis!" I say. Patterns swirl in Oswald's eyes as the opposing bird draws closer. The Pidgey falters, entranced, until he's barely flapping his wings enough to tread in place. That's when Oswald tackles and crashes it to the ground.

"Just a bit tired from the previous battle," Mike says, recalling his Pidgey. "But I've got one that's fresher." A Rattata leaps out from its Pokeball and clips one of Oswald's wings. A minor injury, but he must be fatigued at this point.

"Oswald, return. And Belle, go!" She emerges with a smile on her face, turning towards me. "It's a battle—pay attention! Keep your head on the enemy." A bad habit she needs to stop. Just in time, she jumps out of the way of the Rattata's lunge. It's quick; Belle can leap out of the way but she can't tackle it, either.

"Like this morning," I say. "Get a nice curve on it." A razor-sharp leaf whips through the air. It forces the Rattata to jump to the side, but the leaf's arc follows and sticks into a leg. The rodent loses footing as it lands, opening Belle's chance to leap through the air and pin it down. She stamps one foot on the tail, locking it in place.

"This is over," I say to Mikey.

"Finish the job." He mimes a cutthroat gesture.

"Do it, Daisy," Joey says, standing upright now. Some energy has returned to his voice as he wipes his eyes.

I glance at the gashes across Joey's Rattata's belly and back. Belle watches me, waiting for orders as she plants her foot against the tail of Mikey's, digging it deep into the dirt. Joey tugs at my arm. I can feel a slimy mix of tears, blood, and dirt rubbing across my elbow.

"Don't kill. Just knock it out." Belle fires another leaf, point-blank, but it's a slow and blunt one. The Rattata slumps, unconscious.

"It's not fair." Joey pounds his fists against my arm. "He took away my Pokemon. Take his, too."

"Please, Joey, listen to me carefully. Revenge won't-Joey, wait!" With a wail, he runs back toward Cherrygrove City.

"You idiot," Mikey says. He places his hand against a Pokeball and twists. There are ten standard setting. Badgeless trainers can only use the first two degrees of electroshock to control their Pokemon, but everyone is allowed to execute the emergency eleventh setting. Death.

The smell of smoldering fur fouls the air.

"This kind of trash is dime a dozen," Mikey says. "It's cheaper to replace than to train back to health."

"You two are pathetic," I say. "Is this what you've been doing the past year?"

"You going to fire us?" Don jeers. "You're a nobody, just like us."

He's right. Battle or no battle, trainer or not, Kanto or Johto—it's out of my control. It was foolish to believe that had changed. Joey's Rattata is dead, and the Pokemon League moves on.

#

"He's angry, but I can't thank you enough. I don't know what I would've done if he had gotten hurt," Elisabeth says.

"Will there be consequences?" I ask.

"I'll just pay them triple if I have to, whatever it takes. The trouble's not worth it." I take out my wallet. "Oh no, I can't accept that."

"It's the most I can do." I place a wad of cash and a Pokeball on the table. "Tell Joey I'm sorry. Tell him, this is another top-percentage Rattata."