Disclaimer: I do not own Pokemon. But if I did...I'd probably be Japanese. ((These are getting really inane)).

Rosa's POV:

Using some strange force of nature and the magic of a Pokeball to contain Muse, Roxie, her band mates and I manage to cram into a tiny booth meant for maybe two or three people in a run-down diner. Though Billy Jo and Roxie are fairly small, it's difficult to fit another person in beside Nicky in particular. After a game of rock-paper-scissors, some self-defeating complaining, and creative cursing, Roxie, with the expression of a bedraggled, defeated Purrloin, scrunches herself in next to Nicky.

"I feel so loved," the drummer jokes, poking her.

"Don't touch me, you miserable excuse for a cousin," she responds tetchily.

I raise my eyebrows as Billy Jo slides in next to me as I scan the menu, looking fairly pleased. "Roxie and Nicky are cousins?" I ask. The menu is filled with meat, meat, and more meat. I attempt—and likely fail—to look as though I'm not disgusted.

"Sure doesn't look like it, huh?" she comments, nudging me with her elbow. "Their mothers are identical twins, too, and they still look nothing alike."

Thinking for a moment about the biology of that, I retort, "Then that makes them half-siblings, since their mothers have identical DNA."

Billy Jo makes a choking noise. Whacking me in the arm, she half-chuckles and half-whispers, "Better not tell them that. They'll kill you."

A waiter, who hadn't skimped at all on ear piercings or tattoos of Dark-type Pokémon on his arms and neck, approaches the table. He probably would be attractive if it weren't for them—he has the sort of face that my mother oftentimes calls "stoically handsome". His expression darkens when he notices the group I'm sitting with—he's obviously familiar with them and wishes that he wasn't. "The special today is deep-fried Magikarp with fries and coleslaw," he reads off without pleasantries. "Can I take your order?"

"I'll take the daily special and a chocolate malt," Nicky immediately responds.

The waiter's rust-colored eyes rove to Roxie. "And you?"

"Grilled Magikarp sandwich, hold the pickles, tomatoes, and mayonnaise. No fries, either. Ginger ale," she lists off coldly.

My turn is coming closer. I still haven't found a single item of food on here that isn't a slaughtered Water-type Pokémon with gills or a Bouffalant burger. Billy Jo begins ordering, and thankfully her order is somewhat complicated, involving some removed condiments and some substitutions that seem to infuriate the waiter.

I scan the menu. If I didn't feel so remarkably hungry, I might have given up altogether on ordering anything here.

"Miss?" he asks tetchily.

I sigh and set down the menu. "Do you have…uh…vegetarian options?"

His eyes seem to brighten a little. "Wow. You must be the only person in this city who doesn't eat meat."

"I take that as a no," I respond as Roxie stares at me, utterly aghast.

The waiter actually chuckles before responding, "Well, you could always just get fries and a malt."

I groan. Fried food. It isn't that I'm obsessed with health food or anything—I think tomatoes were put on this planet solely to torment me—but Mom never buys anything but organic. Fried food hurts my stomach; I'm simply not used to it. However, in order to keep things moving, I nod. "Sounds great."

After the waiter leaves, Nicky guffaws loudly. "Wouldn't have taken you for a vegetarian, Rosa."

I throw my hands up defensively. "I didn't know that's such an offense!" I retort indignantly.

Glancing around the diner at various punks, industrial workers, and rickety old men, Roxie leans forward, gazing intensely at me. In a low, frightening voice, she explains, "In this town, if you're a vegetarian or a vegan, you're one of two things, and they both suck balls. You're either from out of town, which means you're easy prey for muggers, or you were in Team Plasma, and then you're a giant f***er and nobody likes you. Or maybe you're both, and then you're gonna die in this town."

I'm not sure of how to respond to that. Nicky gives Roxie a pointed look before adding, "It's okay. You're still cool. It's just…your sort isn't very common around here."

"We're not common in Unova, period," I respond. "I mean, aside from members of Team Plasma, most people like their Bouffalant and Magikarp meat."

"Why are you vegetarian, then, if people associate it with those Plasma douches?" Roxie asks.

I don't have a likeable answer to that. Before Dad had lost his mind and joined Team Plasma—and before their true motives about enslaving Pokémon and the Unova region came about—I'd almost sympathized with them. Mom came home from work at the Accumula Town Pokémon Center at night with stories of Pokémon that had been slammed around and mistreated by their Trainers. Aside from Mom and Dad, I didn't have much experience with Pokémon Trainers at the time, and I'd come to believe that most Unovans abused their Pokémon. Team Plasma clearly couldn't be all bad for wanting to liberate Pokemon…or so I had thought, until Ghetsis proved to be an evil piece of shit. Now I have no fondness for them, but

This, by no means, is an answer that is going to win any favors with Roxie and her friends. All they'll hear is that I didn't dislike Team Plasma once upon a time.

After this moment of contemplation, I simply say, "It's unappealing to me."

Roxie scrutinizes me and sinks back into her seat. The group is quiet, even though the restaurant is not. Unovan redneck rock blares over the speakers, and I wish I could just shut it out. It's too close to country music. Billy Jo nudges me. "Hey, seriously, it's fine if you are. It's just weird as hell in this town."

Changing the subject, I ask, "What's the issue with the waiter? I sensed…animosity." Hatred is too strong of a word, but dislike seems too mild of a word.

"That ass is Ex-Plasma," Roxie comments coolly, examining her nails. "He's one of the ones who got suckered into it because he'd seen too many abused Pokémon. When he realized that Plasma wasn't really working like they said they were, he quit…well, according to him, at least. Doesn't matter. He was in that shitty group, and he helped them enslave people's 'released' Pokémon."

"That's too harsh, and you know it," Nicky chastises her.

Meanwhile, outside the diner, a couple of boys, roughly ten or eleven years old, battle their Pokémon in the street. One is a skinny, redheaded boy commanding a Pansage, and the other is a thuggish blonde boy roughly ordering about a Growlithe. Fire crackles and bites into Panpour brutally, throwing him across the street. "This city is so harsh," I murmur as I look away from the redhead's distraught face and his twitching Pansage. "Even kids battle so brutally."

Billy Jo doesn't even look up from an examination of her nails and says, "That kid you're watching is probably Kyle. He's brutal."

I glance out the window as the redhead scoops up his Pansage and runs away. For such a brutal, effective performance, I'd expect him to congratulate the Growlithe, but instead, he kicks him. "Holy shit," I hiss as he does it again. The Growlithe seems just as shocked as I do by his actions.

Directing her gaze out the window, Billy Jo quickly returns her attention back to her nails. "New Pokémon this week, I see. Kyle's never happy with his Pokémon. He's an ass, but there's nothing that can be done about it."

"You kind of have to get used to the idea that this town isn't a nice place," Nicky retorts. "Chances are that his parents are as bad to him as he is to every Pokémon he tries to catch and train."

"What happens to the ones he doesn't want?" I respond, my tone shaky.

Nicky looks a little nauseated. Sighing, Roxie answers for him. "He lets them go after a month or two, thinking that they're at fault for not listening to him or not acting exactly as he wants, but not until he's tortured the f*** out of them. This Growlithe is his seventh Pokémon since his tenth birthday a year and a half ago. It's ugly. Nicky's dad tried to talk to him one day and the kid almost poisoned him with the Grimer he had."

An ugly emotion stirs in me as my eyes gravitate in Kyle's direction. The Growlithe is cowering at his feet; it's more than I can handle watching. I nudge Billy Jo. "Let me out of here," I growl. "I'm going to have a little talk with him."

"You really want to run away from a cloud of Poison Gas like my dad did?" Nicky asks, his eyebrows raised incredulously.

Billy Jo lets me pass, and I answer both the spoken and unspoken question in the air. "I can't watch this happen. Nothing is worse than abuse," I murmur.

"Wait! Rosa! You're gonna get hurt!" Nicky calls. "I'm serious!"

I dart out of the humid air of the diner and into the rank chill of the rain.

The boy, Kyle, is still standing there. Now he's yelling at the Growlithe, who cowers in the rain with grief and anger written all over his features. Taking a deep breath to keep myself from slapping this stupid little shit upside the head, I walk calmly over to Kyle. He isn't aware of my heavy presence until I quietly ask, "How's it going?"

He whirls confront me. Kyle has a chubby face, with burning gray eyes and a scowl permanently contorting his lips. "What the hell do you want?" he demands.

I look down at the Growlithe. He looks worse for wear, his eyes clouded with disbelief and dull hurt. Moving past him, I crouch and hold a hand out to him. "Are you okay?" I whisper.

The Growlithe's eyes fill with recognition. I suddenly realize this was the Growlithe I saw earlier today beneath the eaves—this Pokémon is newly-captured and already beaten down. He noses my hand weakly, begging for help. I glance over my shoulder at Kyle as I stand up. "I know this Growlithe. He was wary of people earlier today, doing his best to avoid the rain. What's he doing here with you?"

"Are you stupid? I caught him. What does it matter to you, bitch?" he demands, staring at me icily.

I fold my arms over my chest. Nearby, a door slams open, and I can bet that either Nicky or Billy Jo has run out of the diner to see what's going on. "I know that all Pokémon deserve better than this. It's because of people like you that Team Plasma ran rampant for so long." I meet his crazed gray eyes. This kid is a victim of abuse, no doubt about it. I don't want anyone to become a victim in his cycle of abuse, where he deals out what he receives and more. "People who take out their own pain on others make the world a bad place. People only feel bad for you as a victim when you aren't making more victims."

"Shut up!" he snaps, but there's something in his eyes. I've cut him to the core.

I gaze at the Growlithe. His eyes flick toward me. "Let the Growlithe go," I murmur. "He's hurt. Do you want him to be like you?"

"Maybe I do," Kyle retorts harshly.

"I could report you," I respond tetchily. "And I'll report your father, too. Or is it a sibling? Or your mother?"

Tears form in his widened. I don't particularly care that he's upset with me or afraid of me. Even if he is abused at hom, he has no right to treat an innocent, human-wary Growlithe this way. Thrusting the Growlithe's Pokeball at me, he snarls, "Take the damned Pokémon, then! I don't wanna get in trouble! Screw you!" He rushes off, leaving me standing alone in the rain and very suddenly in possession of a Growlithe.

"Oh, Arceus," is all I can mutter as the Growlithe looks at me with fear in his eyes. I soften my tone and crouch down, reaching out toward him. "Sweetie, I'm so sorry," I breathe. He shies away. I can't tell whether he's crying or if raindrops have pooled under his eyes.

After a minute, I try to reach toward him again, and this time he lets me brush my fingers through his head tuft, massaging his damp fur. Unlike Muse and Armstrong, his fur is a little wiry and warm, due to his inner flame. "Let's get you somewhere warm and dry. Then we can decide what we'll do with you."

The Growlithe gives a faint nod. A sour lump forms in my throat; he's so beaten down after only a few hours with this Kyle kid.

I peel my jacket off, shivering at the contact with the icy droplets of rain, and I gently wrap him in it. He's young and light, and I easily carry him back toward the diner. Much to my surprise, the waiter stands there. I would've guessed that Billy Jo or Nicky was standing there. The sound of the door opening earlier had gone to the back of my mind in the angered rush of the moment with Kyle. As I draw closer, I see the waiter has something of a relieved smile etched faintly into his features. "Well, he left his Growlithe in my care after I threatened to report him," I say very simply, masking the surge of angry adrenaline inside me.

The waiter studies me. His eyes are greenish, flickering with yellowish tones under the mostly dysfunctional neon sign advertising the diner. "Are you from Plasma?" he asks softly.

I shake my head. "No. I'm not."

A note of disappointment flickers in his eyes. After a moment, he nods and responds, "There were a lot of good people duped into joining that two-faced organization. I just wondered if you were one of them." He slips his hand toward Growlithe, who sniffs it warily. "He's lucky that you stood up to Kyle."

I sigh, holding Growlithe more tightly to me. "I couldn't just sit and watch that."

His eyes rove up to my face, and he angles his hand toward me. "I'm Jason," he abruptly introduces himself. "It's…nice to meet someone like you."

I manage a smile and shake his hand. "Rosa," I respond. "Glad to see this town isn't just meat-eating punks."

"Hey, I'm plenty punk. I wasn't born with these tattoos," he jokes with a melodramatic frown, earning a giggle from me.

I glance up at the sky. The rain seems to be coming down harder; it's upgraded from a drizzle to a downpour. "Um, Jason, if you don't mind…could I go inside with Growlithe? I'm getting soaked, and the little guy isn't getting any drier out here." The Fire-type woofs quietly in agreement.

He claps his palm to his forehead. "Sorry. That was dumb of me. I'll even bring him some Bouffalant from the kitchen, free of charge. The little guy needs to eat, too."

We reenter the diner, and many fascinated and cynical eyes unnerve me with their unrelenting gazes. I have done something unusual. I, Rosa, have become a person of interest. Wading through the tightly-packed tables, I return to the booth and drip rainwater on everything that I pass. "Well, that didn't end as expected," I finally remark in response to the stares of my companions.

Billy Jo finally manages a chuckle and peers at Growlithe, her eyes wide. "Wow. He…just gave Growlithe up to you?"

"I may or may not have threatened to report him for Pokémon abuse, and he ended up dumping this little guy off on me," I reply, chuckling awkwardly. "He's really nervous around all of these people." I detach the bundled Growlithe from my body and gaze in his face. His eyes dart until they meet mine, when they settle and meet mine.

I smile at him. "Hello, little man. You're gonna have some food soon. Would you feel more comfortable if you can just sit on me?"

Growlithe woofs softly and nods. I gently set him on my lap to unwrap him from my jacket. I hum a soft melody on the F blues scale, lingering in the "safe" pitches of the chord as I brush water droplets from his head tuft and tail. "You really are a handsome Growlithe," I comment, rubbing his ruff dry. "Feeling better?"

"Lithe," he responds, his eyes looking less frightened. After his response, he curls comfortably onto my lap and gazes up at me with doleful eyes.

Once he's settled, I realize that Roxie is looking at me darkly. "What?" I ask defensively.

She plants her elbow on the table and points off in the direction of the kitchen dramatically. Without any restraint, she snips, "No wonder the stupid waiter likes you. You're a bleeding heart just like him. Probably a Plasma sympathizer, too."

"Just because she went out of her way to protect a Growlithe doesn't mean she's a sympathizer, Roxie," Nicky whispers, his tone filled with warning.

I look down, biting at my lip, before I reluctantly respond, "When I was younger, before Team Plasma destroyed the man I thought was a good father and ruined my life, I didn't think they were wrong. If everyone were like Kyle, would we really deserve Pokémon?" I slowly pet Growlithe, feeling his muscles slowly unclench as he relaxes on me. "Maybe I am a bleeding heart. I don't care. It's better than leaving some kid to abuse Pokémon out in the street."

I hear Roxie sigh loudly, but Billy Jo's arm creeps around my shoulders. "You're a damned cool bleeding heart. And cute. No wonder the waiter likes you."

"His name is Jason," I respond tetchily. Grasping that this has been understood as a sign of affection, I mirror Roxie's earlier sigh. "I am not cute. Quit it."

"If I didn't have a girlfriend, I'd say you're hot," Nicky says in a teasing voice.

I resist the urge to pound my head against the window. Roxie chimes in, "Yeah, you're not too bad for a stupid bleeding heart from Aspertia, I guess. Mile-long legs and all that."

I deflect their compliments, back-handed or straightforward, until the food arrives…brought by none other than Jason. He even hands me a plate of Bouffalant scraps for Growlithe. "Sorry. Not quite a T-bone like I was hoping," he says, shooting me a half-smile that actually isn't unattractive.

As he does his best to juggle our many plates, Roxie asks, "Hey, do you think Rosa is cute?"

"Roxie—"I start indignantly, but she cuts me off by leaning over the table and gagging me with a hand over my mouth. Jason looks particularly flabbergasted as she demands, "Well? Do you?"

He sighs, balancing the large tray in one hand to scratch at his neck. A Drapion scrawls across his skin there, looking as lethal as real one of flesh and exoskeleton. "Yeah." Jason looks me in the eye and adds, "You're pretty cute, Rosa."

I blush and duck my head. Growlithe looks at me oddly as Roxie removes her hand from my mouth and laughs loudly. "We knew it," she retorts, leaning back smugly. "You're totally into her."

My anger flares again. "Roxie," I say, my voice quiet and as deadly as the Drapion inked into Jason's neck, "stop doing things like this to me. Quit putting people on the spot and making them feel really bad about themselves, you jerk. It's tasteless."

I feel Nicky and Billy Jo stare at me as though I've grown a third head as Jason continues passing plates around. People don't normally talk to Roxie like that, I take it. No wonder she's such a snippy little brat.

Roxie merely booms with laughter. "Win against me and I'll quit bothering you and even give you a shiny brand stinking new Gym Badge," she challenges me with a sneer. "If you lose, you're my b**** and you can't complain about anything I do."

"Grow," Growlithe growls. He hardly knows Roxie and me and her treatment of me is enough to piss him off. Settling a hand on his shoulder to calm him down, I look her in the eye unflinchingly. "When we're done eating here, I am going to smear you," I threaten icily.

Jason chuckles as he slaps Roxie's plate of food down in front of her. He adds, "If she can scare Kyle, Roxie, you're probably screwed. Have fun." He flattens the tray against his side to walk away. Before he does, he turns to look back at me and says, "I'm off my shift in half an hour. I am going to watch you do it."

"Thanks for the support! Looking forward to it!" I call cheerfully after him. Roxie all but scowls at me as I turn back to her, feeling an ugly emotion twist inside of me. Without saying another word, I set the plate of Bouffalant scraps on my lap for Growlithe to eat and sip at my malt. It's surprisingly bittersweet, and I find that relatively appropriate on a night like this one.

Roxie is going to lose.

A loose gathering of people has sidled into the street. It isn't often that a Gym battle takes place outside of a Gym, after all. It's close to dusk, and the rain has ceased for the time being. A few wan beams of sunlight streak across the street, warming my back and my neck. I glance over at Billy Jo and Nicky, who are chatting with Roxie. In spite of the fact that I've openly insulted their friend, they both shoot me smiles. There's nothing hidden within them; I'm surprised they aren't being more hostile when I've threatened to destroy Roxie in battle.

Relationships in this town will never cease to amaze me.

With Growlithe sitting near my feet, gazing at Roxie with seething eyes, and Muse and Armstrong chatting nearby, I feel…supple. As though I could take a particularly vicious punch to the gut, keep a smile, and then launch a punch back just as fiercely. I hum a famous march under my breath, letting the fiery interlude catch low on my breath.

Please tell me you are in possession of a great many Antidotes, Armstrong comments. I don't enjoy being poisoned.

"You don't know what an umbrella is, but you know what an Antidote is?" I comment. Growlithe makes a noise not unlike a combination of a bark and a chuckle, earning an eye roll from Armstrong.

Who invited him? Armstrong asks dourly.

"I told you what happened. It's up to him if he wants to stay," I respond.

Roxie breaks away from her friend group and stretches languidly. There is no concern in her features. She views me as a bleeding heart Plasma-sympathizing bass player who had only challenged her because of heightened emotions. Yes, I'm angered by Roxie, but I know Muse and Armstrong can take whatever punches her Pokémon throw. They are undying like a bass line. They are the tonal center, an all-consuming forte dynamic, the beats on two and four in a traditional jazz piece. Nothing sways them. Not another Pokémon. Not a Gym Leader dead-set on making me feel ostracized and strange.

"Well?" she calls. "You done pissing around over there?"

"I've been ready for ages," I retort in a low voice.

Tugging a Pokeball free from her sweater dress, she declares, "Get ready! I'm gonna knock some sense outta you!" Her statement confuses me, seeing as she thinks I'm utterly insensible and therefore she should be knocking sense into me if she thinks that, but I'll let it slide. Her Koffing appears, floating lazily just above her head. Much to my surprise, the Koffing snores quietly. "Hey! You! What're you doing? We're gonna battle now!"

While she rouses her Koffing, I look to Armstrong and Muse. "Who wants to take this one?"

The two glance at each other and—I kid you not—begin a round of rock-paper-scissors. Shocked by their display of his human game, I demand, "Where did you two learn that?"

Who does not know rock-paper-scissors? Armstrong asks solemnly. Muse and Growlithe back him up with astute nods. It certainly is not exclusive to you humans.

Armstrong wins this round, covering Muse's rock with his paper, and saunters forward easily. By this time, Koffing has been roused and is ready for a conflict. "Armstrong," I murmur, "start off with Quick Attack. Your Fighting-type moves aren't going to be useful here."

I thought so, Armstrong retorts. He blazes toward Koffing.

Just before he makes impact, Roxie orders, "Use Smog!" Armstrong launches into Koffing with a full-body tackle and receives a face-full of noxious black smoke. He wheezes and backflips away, landing on one knee. Koffing doesn't seem particularly rattled by the Quick Attack, either. So much for that.

"Are you okay?" I ask Armstrong. He has a paw braced on the ground as he hacks.

The cloud smells of pure sickness. I inhaled some of it, and…I do not feel great, Armstrong admits, still gagging on the fumes. I repress the urge to snarl at Roxie—poisoning is a technique I've always seen as particularly cruel. Maybe Armstrong and Muse like to beat their enemies to a pulp, but they don't do anything that could be potentially fatal.

I decide I will never add a Poison-type Pokémon to my team, and I will never teach any of my Pokémon Poison-type moves. "Will you be all right?" I ask.

He nods and clambers back onto his feet. There is a flame in his eyes that unsettles me; it's vengeful and dark, practically soulless. I will make that Koffing regret her mistress's decisions.

Once again he launches himself at Koffing before I can even decide what he should do. "Armstrong! Quit it! She'll just do it again!" I yelp. Just like before, he hits Koffing and she poisons him with fumes.

I know that Armstrong has been poisoned before he even hits the ground. It's easy to see in his twisted posture, his inability to right himself. R-Rosa, he squeaks. It h-hurts. I am sorry.

With a shocked cry, I return him to his Pokeball. I have Antidotes, but in Riolu's current emotional state coupled with his sudden inability to listen, it's best to take him out of the battle for now. I hear Roxie jibing me from nearby, but I tune her out. Crouching, I gaze at my startled-looking Dewott. "Muse, I'm going to send you in. I want you to only use your long-range attacks, like Water Gun. Don't let the fumes get to your head like Armstrong did, and don't let what happened to him psych you out."

Dewott pats my knee. She senses my nervousness and must home to calm me. "Wott! Dew!" she reassures.

"C'mon! We gonna keep battling or are you too scared to?" Roxie jibes.

I turn a particularly murderous glare in her direction. As a reply, I say, "Water Gun." The stream of water gushes forth from Dewott's mouth, smacking into Koffing hard. Roxie growls at the successful audacity of the attack and calls, "Assurance!"

Koffing attempts to slam into Dewott, but she is on her toes. She sweeps out of the way, and I order her to use Razor Shell while just as Koffing plows into the ground where she once stood.

Koffing's HP hits zero, and she faints.

"Dammit," Roxie grumbles nearby before returning her Pokemon. She lazily tosses out another Pokeball, adding, "Whirlipede, finish her off."

Nearby, Growlithe snarls at the sight of the curled-up Pokémon. Whirlipede's venomous yellow eyes judge us, looking at us as though we are little more than her future prey. "Really don't like the looks of this one," I comment to Muse and Growlithe. They nod in agreement. "Think you can take her, Muse?"

"Dew," she says, nodding.

Roxie shouts, "Use Poison Sting!"

"Water Gun them away!" I retort. I don't want Muse to be poisoned, too. She sweeps out of the way of the barrage of Whirlipede's poisonous stingers, occasionally pulsing a Water Gun to knock down the ones that get too close to her. She fires one last pulse at Whirlipede. The attack has very little effect on the Pokémon, but at least Muse got a hit in.

The battle continues like this. Defensive measures. Attempts to poison my Pokémon. It's tediously monotonous, like an elementary school level bass line—elementary school orchestra was the reason why I almost quit learning the upright bass, if that gives one any idea of how long and boring this battle is. Whirlipede, with her high Defense and Special Defense stats, is barely affected by the constant barrage of Water Gun attacks. I need more firepower.

Firepower. That's it.

"Growlithe," I say suddenly, gazing down at him. The last ray of sunshine disappears from the street, and the streetlights flick on. "This is a lot for me to ask of you, but I was wondering if you wouldn't mind stepping in for Muse. I need a type advantage. I promise I won't order you around like Kyle did; I'm not comfortable with that."

Growlithe glances at Whirlipede and Muse. He seems conflicted, but he nods, seemingly reluctant. "Muse!" I call. "Come back here! Growlithe is going to step in."

Roxie rolls her eyes as Muse trots to my side and Growlithe edges forward. "Wow. Type advantages?" the Gym Leader snips.

I ignore her and tug out my Pokedex and check Growlithe's moves. At level 17, he knows Flame Wheel, Helping Hand, Bite, and Ember. "Well…light her up, but don't burn her. Just reduce her HP to zero," I say. Moves like Flamethrower and Fire Blast could potentially kill a much weaker Pokémon. I'm assuming that Whirlipede probably is at a higher level, and with her high defense it'd be hard to harm her anyway. "Let's start with Flame Wheel, shall we?"

Minutes later, Whirlipede has been KO'd, and Growlithe sits cleaning his paws, looking fairly pleased with himself. Perhaps he'd been hit with a few Poison Stings and with a physical attack or two, but he seems to be in fairly good shape. "Nice job," I compliment him, bending down to ruffle his head tuft. He closes his eyes and leans into it. If he were a Purrloin I'd expect to hear a rumbling purr from him. "Do you have your mind made up about what you want to do?"

Growlithe butts my hand, and I assume that's a yes. I smile. "Welcome to the team."

He barks and wags his tail, a pleased smile lifting the corners of his jaws.

I glance up to see Roxie eyeing me with a mixture of curiosity and grudging respect. "Well, you got me," she says with a heavy sigh. "You won. Are you happy?"

"Absolutely delighted, Roxie." I release Armstrong. He looks ill, his eyes bloodshot and his breath rattling. Damned poison. I fish in my bag for an Antidote and quickly spray it on him—I even make him drink some of it. He really doesn't look well.

Moments later, his breathing evens out and he gazes at me sadly. I am sorry. I lost my self-control earlier. Please forgive me, he quietly says, dipping his head to me reverentially. It is good that you managed to win.

"Just don't pull one of those again, okay?" I say, poking him affectionately. "I don't need you getting really sick from poison."

Roxie coughs, and I once again find myself paying attention to her. "You're not a bad Trainer. You're a giant bleeding heart and all, but you're not the worst I've ever seen." She digs into the pocket on her dress and withdraws her hand. "Take the Toxic Badge. You won it fair and square."

I pat Armstrong's head one more time before walking up to Roxie. Accepting the badge from her, I gaze at the badge. The six purple circles, arranged in an erratic line, remind me of Hugh's earlier defeat. "Roxie," I say quietly, "if the boy you kicked around earlier comes back, the one with the Servine, please don't hurt his Pokémon badly. He might not show it, but his Servine and his Pidove are everything to him."

She sighs. "I don't kill people's Pokémon. I'm a Gym Leader. It ain't "ethical" for me to do that, else I'll lose my job. But I'm not gonna go easy on that dumbass, either."

I remember that a small crowd has gathered around us the moment I hear a smattering of applause. "Not bad!" shouts a punk girl with a half-shaved head.

"That Dewott is a force to be reckoned with," someone whispers nearby. I glance around and find Nicky and Billy Jo standing. The latter gives me an enthusiastic thumbs-up, smiling gleefully at me. Nicky gives a knowing nod, his face cast with strange angles under the tawny lamplight.

The sound of someone clearing their throat a little too loudly brings my attention elsewhere. I turn around to see the waiter, Jason, leaning against the nearest lamp post. "That was phenomenal."

I chuckle, tugging self-consciously at the damp ends of my hair. His eyes are serious like Hugh's, but they're serious in the way that "I had to switch out my Pokémon too much."

"You didn't force your Riolu to keep battling when he was poisoned. You asked Growlithe if he wanted to battle," he says softly. "Even really humane Trainers might've just made him battle. That Pokeball gives you total control over them, but you talk to your Pokémon like equals."

"Armstrong has a lot of thoughts in his head. I don't know how I could order someone around who has his own thoughts," I retort.

With a quiet smile, Jason points down the street. "There's this run-down café on the corner about two blocks that way that has really good coffee and some vegetarian options. Would you want to go grab some dinner with me?"

I stare at him. Is Jason asking me out? As if to give some say in my decision, my stomach gives a low, insistent rumble. I certainly hadn't eaten much in the diner, and I'm certain the malt didn't really count as food. Exchanging looks with my Pokémon, they seem enthusiastic about the idea of food. Growlithe and Armstrong are practically drooling. I respond, "I'm hungry. They're hungry, too. Let's go."

He smiles. "Cool. Come with me."

I scoop up Growlithe and motion for Muse and Armstrong to follow me. The crowd parts as we cross through. I notice Billy Jo gazing at me, a knowing smile touching her lips, and she mouths, "Have fun."

I glance shyly over at Jason for a split second before allowing myself a smile. Maybe I have no idea what I think about him, but hey. Food is food.

A/N: Hello and welcome to "Whoops, someone asked out Rosa before Hugh could, because I mentioned in the description that his is a Sequelshipping story." Rosa has amazing legs and a cute personality; she deserves to have multiple male admirers...but we all know at least the romantic end result of this fic, right?

Wow, I really haven't written from Hugh's perspective in a while, have I? I'll have to fix that next chapter...or the one after. It all depends on how I decide to present the plot for the next couple of chapters.

This took less than two weeks to write. That's probably a bad sign, because I have finals on Wednesday and Thursday...*chuckles dryly* Man, I am so exhausted. And I get to become only more exhausted in the upcoming semester. Doesn't a college-level physics physics class sound amazing? Just kidding. And how about economics? Blehh. Disgusting. The music in my life is always awesome, but man, I'm really beginning to loathe this whole education thing.

So this isn't a Nuzlocke story-Pokemon can die, but in this story Pokemon only die if they've been really brutally savaged (i.e. moves like Toxic, Fire Blast, and Hyper Beam on much weaker Pokemon). I don't plan on killing any of Rosa's Pokemon off, or any of Hugh's, but I feel like I made enough references to Pokemon having the ability to die in this chapter that I should cover that a little.

I love Roxie, but I kind of hate Roxie, too. She's kind of a tool. She yells at her dad for following his dreams-I mean, because of the ship being stuck in port and all-but honestly, there are probably other captains. I mean, it's a freaking port city. If one of these captains were given permission, they could easily navigate his ship out of the way or carry people across the sea with their own. And Roxie's so brutal about it all and then she goes and rage-performs. It's mind-boggling. Her attitude is pretty sweet, but I feel like she could've handled the situation a lot better in the game. So...I'm sorry if I present her in an unpleasant way at all in story. She just doesn't seem like the nicest girl.

I hope you've enjoyed this latest update. Leave a review if you wish. I hope that physics and economics don't slow my update speed down even further, but if it does, I apologize, and I'll try to make up for it with really full, long chapters, all right? My faithful readers deserve quality updates.