Arden silently made his way out of Pewter City, carrying Gimpy, and frowning as he thought about what Brock had said to him. "Don't love my pokemon..." mumbled Arden. "Huh. What a load of crap."

Gimpy happened to agree with Brock, however. He found himself agreeing more and more as Arden's grip around him tightened out of frustration. Arden ground his teeth, ignoring Gimpy's protests at the increased pressure. Finally, the boy stopped walking, stamping on foot on the ground forcefully.

"How dare he say those things to me, Gimpy—how dare he!" said Arden. "What, he thinks he knows so much more than me, just because he's a gym leader? Well, he doesn't! I should—I should march back into that gym and give him and his stupid rock pokemon a piece of my mind, because he does not know what he is talking about. All high and mighty, like he thinks he's the... the tsar of pokemon care, or something."

His anger ran out of steam, however, and he could only sigh and continue along, toward the route out of Pewter City. High mountains rose up beside the path, creating a narrow channel. As Arden entered it, he paused for a moment to marvel at the mountains surrounding them. "Well, look at that," he said, shielding his eyes against the sun as he looked up.

"Squuuirtle," said Gimpy, shielding his eyes, as well.

"Excuse me, Arden?" said a man. Arden looked down at the speaker, who was vaguely familiar to him, yet somehow he could not quite place where he had seen the man. "I'm one of Professor Oak's assistant's... You were at his lab in Pallet Town?"

Arden stared at the assistant blankly.

"You picked up your squirtle and your pokedex there, remember?" asked the assistant. "I mean—it was just this morning..."

"Oh—right, right, right," said Arden. "What's up?"

"Professor Oak sent me to give you this," said the assistant, holding out a pair of shoes to Arden. A piece of flowery stationary poked out of one of the shoes, Arden noticed as he set Gimpy down to take them. "There's a note attached."

"I see that," Arden said, as the assistant handed them over. He pulled out the note and read the first line aloud. "'To my beloved challenger'—eh?! Just what kind of racket is Professor Oak running? I'm not his beloved anything, I can tell you that--!"

"These are from your mother," said the assistant quickly. "Your mother sent them."

"Oh. Well, that would explain why it's in her hand writing..."

"They're running shoes," said the assistant. "You can use them to run wherever there's room. Just hit 'b'."

"...hit 'b'?" asked Arden, raising one eyebrow. "What do you--?"

The assistant grew suddenly anxious. "I've said too much already," he said quickly. "Have a good day, and good luck with your pokemon league challenge."

"Wait, I want to talk about that comment about hitting 'b'," said Arden, but the man was already rushing off, his face covered in sweat. Arden looked at the shoes and then down at Gimpy. The squirtle raised his little hands to the air in a gesture like a shrug. "Well, it was nice of Mom to send me these shoes, I guess... I mean, I'll put them on, but I don't know what I'm gonna do with the ones I'm already wearing. I mean, I guess I'll just toss those up onto a cliff or something and forget about them. Maybe tie the laces together and sling them over a telephone wire, I don't know..."

He sat down on a near by rock and slipped his feet out of his shoes. "I don't know, Gimpy—I mean, I thought I could run perfectly fine before. I don't see why I need specific shoes for this," he said. Gimpy didn't know either.

"Ew!" shouted a girl nearby. Arden looked up. "Did you just touch me?!"

"What--?" asked Arden. "Er, no. I didn't. You're standing, like, ten feet away from me. I don't see how..."

"Battle," said the girl, holding up a pokeball.

Arden sighed and pulled on his running shoes. "Of course," he said flatly. "I should have figured it was something like that. All you people speak nonsense, and then assume it's an acceptable lead in to a battle. Right."

"Right," said the girl. "Gooooo, Pidgey!"

She tossed the pokeball, and her pidgey appeared with a dazzling flash of light. Gimpy made a slow and careful attempt to turn toward the pidgey, but Arden stopped him. "No, no," said Arden, picking up the squirtle. "I've got another one for this. Go, Cruelty!"

He threw out a pokeball from his belt, releasing the pikachu that had been stored therein. The pikachu looked around for a moment, as though trying to get its bearings before its eyes locked on the pidgey. "Kaaaachu," murmured Cruelty, straightening up his ears.

"Pidgey, tackle!" said the girl.

The pidgey cooed and flapped its wings before lunging at Arden's pikachu. Cruelty dodged the attack easily, however.

"Pikachu!" shouted the pokemon as the girl's pidgey tried to correct itself.

"Good job, Cruelty!" shouted Arden. "Now, thundershock!"

As though it had not heard him, the pikachu threw itself at the pidgey, punching at it with its tiny hands and smacking it around with its tail. Its cheeks sparked, but it make no attempt to shock the enemy pokemon.

"Hey—what is he doing?" said the girl. "That's not a pokemon fight—that's, that's... That's just mean! Get your pikachu off my pidgey! This isn't right!"

"I'm sorry," said Arden. "This is... Cruelty! Stop it! Return!"
"Chuuu!" growled the pikachu, still clawing and slapping the bird pokemon as it thrashed about in confusion.

"Pidgey, return!" shouted the girl, holding up her pokeball. With a flash of the light, her pokemon disappeared, leaving Cruelty to look around, confounded. The girl turned on Arden, her eyes features fierce, tears clinging to her eyes. "You need to get your pokemon under control!"

"I—I'm sorry. Yes, I should," said Arden, rubbing the back of his neck. "He's, uh, he's new... It won't happen again."

"Kaaa!" shouted Cruelty. He launched himself at the girl, pulling at her hair and scratching at her face. "Piiiiii! Ka, pikaaaa-pi!"

The girl screamed and swatted at his attacking pikachu.

"After this," said Arden, as he scrambled to help her. "It won't happen again after this!"

Gimpy sighed and pressed one hand against his own forehead. "Squirt. Squirtle."