A/N:IMPORTANT! VERY IMPORTANT! MUST—READ!

Okay people, here's the 411.

It's been over a year since I last posted. The situation does not look good, but I've not given up. Rather I've given myself a swift kick in the ass and gone back to the keyboard.

I'm reposting a different version of this chapter on the reasoning that where I left off at didn't quite deliver the message I wanted. Some elements felt forced and weren't needed while others, more important points, were altogether missing. Oh, I had planned the next several chapters since then — hell, I've this story outlined to near-entirety — but I couldn't get past how unnatural this chapter felt. So I've come up with a slightly different scenario, one that ultimately has the same outcome but closer to my original message. I've already accomplished one goal for my readers, although some of you are still suspicious.

What's changed? I've added a few extra scenes which I felt made the transition from battle to interview more fluid, but I've also added two other characters and cut another. The biggest change, however, is the ending. I personally feel that this approach is far superior to the "report to the principal's office" rehash of the first chapter. Let us never go back there.

I've also changed a fact in Chapter 2: Ryan now only has two school pokémon. This is because I feel one year is not enough time for a beginner to raise three pokémon to fighting conditions, especially when placed next to the hours one must devote to school and studying. I have another reason for reducing the number of school pokémon a student has, one which will hopefully be obvious in the coming chapters. For those who wonder what I was going to use to fill in the third slot, I was thinking of a Zubat.

I know this is highly unusual and unpleasant for those who had already reviewed, but bear with me. To make up for it I'm going to post the next chapter within the next few days.

Disclaimer: Still nothing to update.

Chapter is approximately eight pages long, 3,681 words (not including title and author notes). Here's your second helping.

Chapter 5: Interview with the Professor

"What can you tell me about him?"

It was a question Prof. Coy had rolling around his head since the match began, and only afterwards, as his colleague Prof. Brash was leading him out of the stadium, did he gain the composure to ask.

"Do you mean that what you just saw wasn't enough?" was Brash's immediate response, eyebrow raised in his standard posture of mock-surprise. Coy shot him a sideways glance, getting Brash to subconsciously rub at his bearded chin—a tell that he was pondering the question seriously.

"Well . . . he's intelligent, quick-witted, committed to his training, and also the top battle strategist in the School," Brash graciously replied, a hint of pride in his voice.

"I can see that for myself, Henry. He's been a student under you for the past three years. In all that time I'm certain you've met with him under less formal circumstances. I want to know what you personally think of him."

"Personally? Hm, well. . . ."

Brash's stride did not break. He took a deep breath in and, almost reluctantly, began. "He has a unique sense of perception, which prevents him from looking at things as being straight-forward . . . " Brash trailed off, taking a moment to think about what he was about to say. "This can, at times, put him at odds with the teachers, as well as some of the other students."

He paused again, letting the information sink in before continuing. "He can be a tad arrogant, and thinks everything is a competition. He tries to one-up people even when it's not appropriate—especially when he knows it's not appropriate." At once his mood changed. He lifted himself straighter, higher. "But he works hard, and he's naturally gifted in the field of perception. He's drawn up some unique strategies about pokémon battling that have astonished me, and then he makes it seem like it's common sense!"

Coy nodded his head in a manner that feigned interest, but Brash could see that he had been expecting more. After all those years in school together, the headmaster knew how his colleague thought. A man of science, Coy was very thorough. He minced no words and just said what his colleague was looking for.

"That, and probably as a result of his atypical nature, his training methods sometimes come off as a little . . . extreme, especially for someone so young."

Coy's face held no visible reaction. It was what he had come to suspect from what he had seen in the match. It was rare thing to see a school-issue pokémon so well conditioned. Even so, he'd have to go the next step, just to be sure.

"I want a full checkup on that Vulpix he used."

"It's standard procedure after every match. I'll have it so the infirmary staff send you a copy," Brash replied. "He's an intelligent kid. Why don't I arrange a meeting?"

Ryan was a little worn after the events of the Trial. Karen was his rival for a reason, but he'd succeeded, confident that he must have left a good impression. He had won after all, humiliating his rival in front of the school assembly almost single-handedly with Vulpix. He even gained the attention of the League representative, which was supposed to be a good thing.

Then why I feel so uneasy? he voiced to his disquieted mind.

His celebration on the field had been short-lived. After he met that man's gaze, all sense of triumph had vanished. The way he stared at him, face free of countenance of any sort, made Ryan feel like he had failed to accomplish anything at all.

A dark thought entered his mind, a sense that something was eluding him. It was a barely conscious thought, a mental reflex he hadn't experienced for a long time, but it drew him to a horrible prediction.

What if did something wrong? Damn it. He slammed his fist onto the lunch table. The plastic tray clattered, signaling others in the room to turn and look at him. He ignored them. He did not want to dwell on this now, not after his victory. He'd won, period. That was the unequivocal truth and all that mattered.

Having reassured himself, Ryan went back to eating his lunch of stir-fry. A short moment later the world normalized as all the heads that had turned before went back to their previous activities of either stuffing their faces or carrying on trivial conversations. Back to normal, exactly as it should be.

"Have you been to see your pokémon yet?"

Ryan let the fork fall the few centimeters back onto the plate.

That's right, back to normal.

Karen stood off to his side along the table, arms crossed in her casually condescending manner. He had to turn over his shoulder to look at her. She was giving him the evil stare. It was a trademark of hers.

"I saw them brought in while the nurse was checking Meditite's blood pressure. Both are in pretty bad shape."

What a fool. Of course she would insist on staying hunched over the pokémon, getting in the way of the doctor and nurses. She probably didn't even budge until the staff had finished all the preliminary tests.

"They need their trainer to watch over them."

Yes, I get it, Ryan thought to himself. You're supposed to be the good guy. But this isn't that Saturday tv show! Stop trying to live out that fantasy and think for once!

"They're not really mine," Ryan states calmly. "Those Meditite and Gloom aren't yours either. They belong to the school as leased out by the League."

Karen glowered. "I don't understand how you can sit there and say that."

"Because it's true." He forked another load of rice into his mouth. "When we graduate in the next few days they'll be returned to the Gym Leader, and we'll all start again from scratch. There's no point in getting them attached to us."

"You've had them for almost a year. Besides, you are a trainer, aren't you?" He didn't even realize that she had sat down at the head of the table. Her eyes were more civil now, but no less piercing. "How can you be expected to take care for pokémon out in the wild when you're not even there for them now?"

"They're in the hands of trained professionals. They don't need me hanging around and getting in the way."

"But you—"

"No, you look," Ryan said, starting to get exasperated at these verbal bombardments, "if you want to make me feel bad about winning the match, it's not working. It was my training, my coaching, and my strategies that won out. You—" he punctuated this one word with his upturned fork "—have no right to act so condescending toward me. You had your chance to prove me wrong, and you blew it."

Karen momentarily met his stare. She had the look of a person who had been tinkering with a puzzle for ages; her facial muscles contorted in a mixture of frustration and confusion. Then, in quiet grace, she stood up, turned her back, and walked off to a table at the other end of the cafeteria.

Ryan turned his full attention back to the plate, savoring the silence more than the sauce. Quiet. That's better than normal.

"Pilate."

Ryan let out another long sigh. That deep condescending voice, reverberating with cynicism. It could only be Mr. Costello. "The League representative wants to speak with you."

"Really?" Ryan asked the teacher standing behind him while reaching for a paper napkin. "Where at?"

"In the infirmary."

The infirmary? Ryan wondered. An unusual choice. Deliberately, he got up, shelved his tray, and walked over to the double-doors on the opposite end of the room, Mr. Costello following silently nearby. Karen didn't even glance as he passed by; she continued staring into oblivion.

The cafeteria opened out to the same hallway Ryan had traversed yesterday. As before when he neared the headmaster's office, the grey-beige-painted wall on the right side gave way to glass, revealing the spectacle of forest that stretched from the edge of the campus grounds to the roots of the Silver Mountain Range.

In five days this roughly one-hundred-square kilometer of rough terrain would become the site of the School's Wilderness Trial, an orienteering obstacle course that was the last of the School's graduation requirements. The final hurdle. Passing it would mean a life of freedom that he had longed for these past three years. To finally become a pokémon trainer, universally-held proof that he had the fortitude and resourcefulness to live on his own. The only means of emancipation before age 18.

He only spent a few moments by the window, longer than he probably should have. Mr. Costello caught up behind him, his mere presence enough to send Ryan a mental nudge. From there it was only a few doors past the headmaster's office to the infirmary.

The automatic doors slid open on his approach. Inside was a man, standing next to a side table and with his back against the wall. Ryan instantly recognized him as the guest who had sat with the headmaster in the presidential box during today's Battle Trial. Remembering their brief encounter earlier that morning, Ryan stiffened and immediately went on guard. The League's representative was flipping through some papers in a manila folder. Seeing Ryan enter, he quickly shut the file and laid it on the nearby end-table.

"Hello Ryan Pilate. I am Prof. Coy, League liaison to the Violet Trainer School." His voice was toneless, showing no emotion, not even interest. "I'm here to evaluate the students for the League's Premier Rookie Sponsorship."

"Hello," Ryan said, relaxing a little. So, it's just an interview.

"I've just been going over a few things from the school archives before you arrived. Your grades," he held out the manila folder, "are exemplary." He then tossed it rather nonchalantly on top of the pile, and recited the rest from memory. "A running average of 3.89, the top competitor in the singles pokémon battles and the 100meter dash in track and field, and completed a total of six extended field-studies, three of which with department heads. I have also received seven letters of recommendation from respectable faculty members of this institution."

"However, there is little here about group or team-related activities. Your partnered doubles pokémon battling only goes as far as the classroom. Your track coach, a Mr. Costello, made mention that you don't interact well with your teammates, and that you would only participate in relays when an emergency substitute needed to be filled. In fact, there is no mention of you applying for any team-related sports."

That's an . . . odd statement. Ryan hoped his confusion didn't show. "What can I say? I just feel I don't get along well with any of the other students."

"I see." He sat down, gesturing Ryan to do the same. A simple hand motion was all that was the student needed to turn him down. "And why do you want to be a trainer?"

It was not an unexpected question. Ryan used the prepared response.

"I love the outdoors." He shuffled his feet some, trying to make it convincing. "I like the idea of roaming between towns, absorbing the environment while picking up and training pokémon along the way. Eventually I'll take this team I'll have built to the Pokémon League, make a name for myself, maybe even get some endorsements, and use what I've earned to travel further."

"And you think you current training methods will accomplish that?"

That terrible feeling from earlier had re-surfaced. Ryan quit his fiddling. "You don't think so?"

Coy quickly nodded. "Yes. In fact your training methods are a topic of much concern to me. It's what I had you brought here to talk about." Coy's voice had grown firm. "Especially about that vulpix,"

"What about him?" Ryan asked, his original wariness becoming marred by annoyance at this old man's campy showmanship.

Coy flipped through some papers he had drawn from a folder in the pile. "The vulpix you used put up quite an impressive display. I've never seen such fire from a school pokémon. That technique you taught it, do you know what it's called?"

Ryan suppressed a shrug, keeping his glaze fixed upon the representative. "Not sure. I was aiming for teaching him Flame Wheel, but it didn't match the simulated images in the library or on the 'net."

Coy had to turn sideways and direct his gaze down on the paper, to hide his astonishment. He couldn't believe it, because it shouldn't be possible, yet here was the proof. And this boy . . .

He has no idea, the professor thought.

In an instant Coy snapped the folder shut and strode halfway across the room to tower over Ryan. Ryan jumped at this move. It was the first reaction he had seen the professor make. It happened so abruptly that he was pinned by the glare from Coy's hawk-like face.

"That attack your vulpix pulled off was not Flame Wheel. It is called Flare Blitz, a high level fire-type move where the pokémon engulfs itself in flames and charges recklessly at its opponent." He pointed his finger at the student. "And you should not be teaching it yet."

Flare Blitz? Ryan furled his eyebrows, trying to remember where he had heard that term before.

Coy leaned forward, as if to make himself more clearly heard, pointed his index finger at Ryan's chest. "It's an extremely advanced technique that does damage to the user. For a more experienced pokémon this recoil is minimal; they know how to handle it. But you—" he jabbed harder, accusingly "—forced it on a young vulpix who doesn't have enough experience controlling its fire. You should have noticed the damage it was suffering early on when you were first experimenting with it. But you kept pushing it, with no concern for the health or wellbeing of your ward!"

Ryan stood still. True, Vulpix did have some trouble learning the technique, but there weren't any signs of strenuous fatigue or injury from using it during training, and Ryan had always made sure to give him plenty of rest afterward.

Coy stepped back to the table, returning holding up some sheets he had drawn from the many layers of manila folder, and held it out in front of the would-be trainer. "The medical report on your Vulpix." He watched as Ryan took it and gently flipped through the pages. "This was performed immediately after your battle. It was a rushed examination, but the initial assessment more than confirmed my suspicions."

Ryan recognized some of the terms used, fragments from his Pokémon Anatomy and Biology classes, but nothing beyond word recognition. He closed it softly. "Where are you going with this?" he asked cautiously.

Coy yanked them from his hands. " 'Severe internal scorching and overheating of the internal heat sacs, ash and soot build-up in the lungs, burned gums from excessive use of flame'—how do you not understand the significance of this?"

"No. Now tell me," Ryan challenged. It wasn't sarcasm. Ryan was trying to play this serious, but it was getting frustrating. The man couldn't just answer his question; he would have to drag the explanation out.

"All starter pokémon given to beginner trainers by the League are bred for temperament. They are outgoing and willing to try new things, but most of all, they are cooperative." Coy folded his hands. "As a young trainer, you are arrogant in strategy and brutal in practice. Far more than usual. To give such a creature of enormous potential for power in your hands would lead to self-devastation on your part and a tainting of the League's name. Because it would not know any better, it will follow you in every one of your decisions. With no check to control yourself, you would push it to its death."

Ryan met his gaze levelly, but he did not speak.

"After going through this data I have come to the conclusion that you are unfit to act in individual interaction with any pokémon, and it is my personal opinion that you be restricted from obtaining trainer membership. While I regret letting such a potentially exceptional trainer as yourself go, the League simply cannot take the chance of giving you such a valuable asset."

For several long seconds the room was saturated with silence. Coy straightened, retrieved the report, and retreated back to the end-table on the other side of the room to place it back on the pile.

"You say you won't give me a pokémon," Ryan stated calmly, breaking the silence while Coy had his back to him, "but what is preventing me from going out and purchasing one from an unaffiliated breeder?"

"There's no such thing as unaffiliated when it comes to the League," came the collected reply. "No one will sell you a pokémon if we don't issue you a license. And even if you do manage to obtain one, what then? Your situation goes beyond merely having a pokémon follow you around. The League won't recognize it because they won't recognize you. You will be unable to participate in League-sanctioned events."

Ryan was in a state of shock. This was the worst-case scenario—no, this was unthinkable. He had expected scrutiny, unfounded suspicion, even prying for some hidden character flaw, but not outright dismissal. Coy had apparently noticed this, and shifted to make his presence less imposing. He may have slouched a couple millimeters.

"Nonetheless, the fact it managed to learn the technique at such a young age is extraordinary. I believe that it says much about the pokémon, but your headmaster places the accomplishment squarely at your feet. Headmaster Brash has resisted my recommendation to expel you. He's even asked me to reconsider my decision."

Coy sat down on the couch, letting the files fall back onto to end table. His posture didn't relax, but was just as straight-backed and composed as since Ryan first entered the infirmary. "He's a dear colleague of mine, and his opinion carries much weight. As such, I've decided to give you another chance." He said this last part with visible reluctance.

"Another?"

"To change my mind."

"Your mind is already made up?"

"Of course."

"Isn't that a little unfair?"

Coy's gaze, softened by his confession, had hardened once again. "You claim that you love the outdoors, that you'll care for the pokémon you catch, but your records don't indicate this behavior. You've always returned your pokémon back to the handler before dinner every day. You let the handlers feed them for every meal except lunch. You never even checked them out for a weekend outing, as every other student seems to have done. I've seen this kind of detached attitude in students before. I believe you just don't have an interest in this. Oh, you may like to be outside, and off doing your own thing, but you don't really love pokémon. Otherwise you would have spent more time outside of school working with them.

"I'll allow you to participate in the upcoming trainer trial. It'll be a practical simulation of what you'll expect on the road. You'll be around your pokémon all 24 hours of the day, and no handlers to take the baggage off your hands, as it were. You'll have to feed, care, clean, and constantly check their health as you would if you were already on your journey. Do you think this is an unfair expectation of you?"

"I have no problems with that."

"One more mistake like this one, be it a repeat or something entirely new, and you won't be getting that graduation certificate on Sunday a week from now."

"It won't happen again then," Ryan said, surprising himself with how confident he said it.

Coy turned down to his papers. "I can almost guarantee that it will."

Ryan glared while the professor began shuffling the folders into a leather attaché case. "Well, now that we have that settled I'll be seeing the next student up for qualification." He stopped when he reached the bottom of the pile. A lone paper had caught his attention.

"Oh yes, this is for you."

Ryan took it. "What is it?"

"Written notice for the return of the vulpix the school loaned to you."

Ryan started. He moved to hand it back. "No thanks."

Coy stared at him askance. "It's not an offer."

"I cannot accept this. I've put a lot into that vulpix. My entire tactical structure is based around it."

"I'm to understand that you're a highly versatile individual. You'll just have to make do without."

Ryan was beginning to lose his composure. The thought of traversing four days of obstacles with just Marill . . . he wouldn't be able to do it. "You've got to give me a better chance than this."

Coy did not even so much as face him as he closed the attaché case. "This was not up to me, it was a personal request from the Violet Gym Leader. The vulpix will have to be returned to her custody. She will be here tomorrow morning to pick it up. Personally I agree with her decision."

"No, there has—"

"Now look, if you want to use it for the upcoming Wilderness Trial, you'll have to convince her tomorrow. Now, it's time for you to leave." Coy hefted his case in the direction of the doorway.

"Now, good day, Mister Pilate."

Defeated, Ryan moved abjectly toward the exit. Within two paces of the aperture, too soon to register his movement, it abruptly slid open. A tall woman wearing a fitted leather jacket and sporting a pinned-up black braid stood in the way. Ryan instantly recognized her as the city's resident icon.

Violet City Gym Leader Faile Argenwright.

"I know I'm early," she said to Coy. "So, is this the one?"

A/N: Before anyone comments about the punctuation of Pokémon and Pokémon names, I only capitalize the first letter if the name is a proper noun. If it's wild, it's a sentret. If you caught her and didn't give her a nickname, then she is Sentret.