A/N: I own a copy of at least one game from every Generation, but that's about it.
SABRINA
So another week passed, and she had done exactly jack squat concerning Trodaire Phoenix. Misty kept bugging her to ask him every time that they video-chatted (which was every day, for those keeping track), and each and every time Sabrina found a way to change the subject. And each and every time she did that, Misty would chide the Psychic type master for being unable to ask a guy that had shown absolutely no signs of intimidation if he wanted to watch her Alakazam maul the living daylights out of wave after wave of Pokemon. Sabrina wanted to tell Misty that she'd seen Trodaire when he was truly angry and that that quite honestly terrified her, but knew that Misty would tell her to seek psychiatric help from Erika if it was that much of a problem. And the thought of a psychic needing psychiatric help was a thought simply too ridiculous for Sabrina to bear.
Thus, two days after a successful day of battering all challengers that dared to grab the Saffron City Badge from her, Sabrina ambushed Trodaire outside of the Fight Club. Again.
"Gah!" The Orrean shouted as he turned around from locking the front door to see Sabrina leaning on the fence just in front of the building and roughly two feet from his face. "Someone should put a bell on you…" he muttered. Sabrina just rolled her eyes.
"Mr. Phoenix, what is your schedule this coming Friday?" She asked. Trodaire stared up at the sky as he tried to recall.
"Uh…I got…nothing. Yeah, I got nothing. Why do you ask?" He said. Sabrina shrugged.
"After having put you through a gauntlet of me watching everything that you've been doing here, I figured it was only nice to invite you to see the Saffron Gauntlet." Sabrina said softly. Trodaire raised an eyebrow.
"Uh, I was just planning on watching it on TV already, Sabrina." He said, so clueless that it was a wonder Sabrina didn't try to punch him. Instead, she sighed and waited for him to process what she had just said to him. "OH." He said as he realized what he was being offered. "You're letting little old me in on that very intimate setting while watching you destroy your gym trainers for little more than your own amusement?" He asked with a grin.
"No. I am inviting you because I think you would enjoy the experience." Sabrina said, quite honestly. Trodaire nodded.
"To be honest, I've never seen a Psychic type battle before…" Trodaire said. He smiled. "Alright, I'm in. When do I need to be there?" He asked. Sabrina smirked slightly at his acceptance, before putting her cold façade back on.
"The taping is at 6 P.M., but I will be beginning warm-ups at 5:45 P.M. You are more than welcome to show up as early as 4, when Alakazam and I go through preliminary exercises. Oh, and before I forget, there is a dress code." She said. Trodaire raised an confused eyebrow.
"A dress code?" He asked. Sabrina nodded.
"You need to dress like a Psychic." She said.
There was a pause.
"If you don't mind me asking," Trodaire said after a moment of thinking. "What the hell does 'dress like a Psychic' mean?" He asked. Sabrina sighed and rolled her eyes.
"Wear a hakama, please. White top, black bottom." She said. Now it was her turn to raise an eyebrow. "Do you have one of those?" She asked. To her surprise, he nodded.
"I'll have one. And I'll see you then." He said with a smile. He walked away from her towards Paulie and Betties' house, when she called after him.
"Oh, and Mr. Phoenix? There is a…gathering after the event, if you would be interested in joining us." She said. Trodaire looked at her silently, smirked and gave a small little nod to indicate he would, and then walked off. Sabrina felt like there was a large weight that was off of her chest, even though she did not know why it was there in the first place.
When she returned to her private quarters that evening, to her incredible surprise Alakazam was not floating in the air but rather on the ground. Stretching its arms and legs. As in, physically moving.
"What are you doing?" She asked incredulously.
"Planning contingencies." The Pokemon replied sagely. "Mistress Cecilia's Kadabra is a potent threat when it comes to typical psychic attacks. However, I wager a good right cross with one of my Kitchen Fu spoons might be helpful." Sabrina just shook her head.
"You've been letting Trodaire influence you far too much, old friend." She said. Alakazam snorted. It was truly a humorous thing to hear the Psychic type actually make a noise that was not telekinetically generated.
"Please, My Lady. It is not the end of the world for me to implement new things in an effort to stay on top. And while we are on the subject of Master Trodaire, I find it rather humorous that you are critiquing my relationship with Master Trodaire when it is in fact you who have invited him to our little Gauntlet this Friday." It said. Sabrina blushed.
"That's different." She said lamely. Alakazam raised an eyebrow.
"Indeed." Alakazam said in a tone implying he knew more about something than he would let on. It was moments like these that Sabrina's star Pokemon (and closest confidant) could really drive her crazy.
TRODAIRE
After their little event in the quarry a few days ago, it was safe to say that training with the Steel-types were much more cautious. As enjoyable as it had been for them all to punt Rock types into the canyon walls and witness Aggron flatten a Steelix single-handedly, the next few weeks were about developing endurance. Trainers who were up early in the morning were witness to a strange sight as a pair of human males were leading an Aggron, Excadrill, and Armaldo in jogs and sprints and other cardio activities around the Saffron Gym and the Fight Club for extended periods of time.
However, there was one thing that they were really aiming for: not getting hurt. For in two weeks was the first major hurdle concerning the World Tournament: passing the physical examination.
Perhaps, dear readers, some explanation is in order. The World Pokemon Health Organization, or WPHO for short, was the international conglomerate that ran all Pokemon Centers worldwide. In addition to providing cost-free healthcare for trainers on the road, as well as places to stay for travellers, the WPHO was also responsible for regulating the safety conditions of League-Sanctioned battles. There was a marked difference between a run of the mill street battle and an event that was going to be watched by millions of fan both in the stadium and on television or radio: the League-Sanctioned event needed to have some degree of order. Pokemon were independently assessed by highly trained (and most importantly unbiased) health professionals from the WPHO to make sure that not only were they in peak physical condition, but that they were in a match-up that could be deemed "fair." Admittedly, there was room for negotiation between trainers as to what constituted as a "fair" match-up. But at the very least, there would be nothing as ludicrously dangerous as a young Vulpix being matched up against a fully-grown Onix.
Trodaire had been completely unaware that such physicals existed.
"Seriously? You've never heard of this stuff?" Steven had asked him during a break in the action. Both men were sweating just as much as the Pokemon they were with, as the two of them had been leading the trio of Pokemon through everything. Trodaire shrugged.
"I'm from Orre, remember? We're a little behind the times when it comes to making sure that official match-ups are as safe as possible for the fighters." He said. There was a trace of a pained expression in Trodaire's eye, almost as if he was remembering something when he mentioned this. But Steven knew that if he asked now, Trodaire was just going to clam up. So he said nothing.
"Well, do you think that any of the match-ups are going to be deemed unacceptable by the WPHO?" Steven asked. Trodaire shrugged.
"I don't think so." He said. "Excadrill versus Salamence might be a bit of stretch, but I don't see any problems with the other two battles." He sighed. "That's of course assuming that Aggron doesn't get smashed by Dragonite." He said quietly, taking care not to let the Steel beast hear him. Steven raised an eyebrow.
"Uh, you do realize how hard we've been pushing him, right? I bet you if he wanted to he could kill something with a finger flick." Steven protested. Trodaire shook his head.
"Maybe you or me, but not a Dragon." Trodaire said gravely. "Have you ever fought a Dragon before, Steven?" He asked.
"Captain Drake from the Hoenn Elite Four." Steven replied. "Admittedly, not much though." He said. This was interesting to Trodaire, who raised an eyebrow.
"That so? How'd the fight go?" He asked.
"Well, I won, but Aggron nearly broke its hands punching Shelgon's skin-oh." Steven said, realizing. "Are Dragonites' skins harder than that?" He asked. Trodaire shrugged.
"It's not so much that Dragonite's skin is thicker than a Shelgon's than it is a case of Lance's Dragonite having hard skin. That thing is a walking tank. It's famous for no-selling attacks from incredibly dangerous opponents." Trodaire said. Steven looked thoughtful.
"So we're just hoping for the best, then?" He asked. Trodaire nodded.
"At the end of the day, Steven, we're going to be looking at a war. The WPHO will be really working overtime making sure nothing is a lasting injury for either side." He said.
This brought a long and melancholy silence.
SABRINA
The Gym Leader for Saffron City, however, was not worrying about any of this. She was busy dealing with setting up her Gauntlet. It was the day of the event, two hours before the camera was to start rolling, and Trodaire was nowhere to be found. This upset Sabrina more than she would care to admit. She'd spent a lot of time planning what she was going to say and what she was going to do when he arrived, and he wasn't even there yet. What a load of garbage and a waste. She was so busy wallowing in her own self-pity, that she failed to see Trodaire walk through the front door and didn't notice him until Alakazam got her attention.
"Madam Sabrina, Master Trodaire is here." It said calmly. Sabrina whirled around, fully intending to give him an earful-
-Only to stop and be taken aback at how he looked.
Trodaire had found himself a hakama alright. It was white on the top, and black on the bottom, just as she requested. He'd also gotten a haircut, bringing his once-baggy locks down to a military-style crew cut. He looked…like a psychic. It was impossible for Sabrina to believe it, but he looked like he could start practicing in the Saffron Gym and no one would bat an eye.
That is, until he opened his mouth and began to speak.
"Wow. This is a lot different than the Fight Club," Trodaire admitted. "All glass. Steel. Chrome. Very fancy-pants." He said. Sabrina rolled her eyes.
"I see you managed to secure appropriate fashion," she said. She herself was wearing a hakama that was more like one of the kimonos that Erika wore all the time in her gym, minus the frilly designs on it. She then raised an eyebrow. "Though I have to question where you found it on such short notice."
Trodaire shrugged. "Oh, I got it from Bruno."
If there was a record playing somewhere, this would've been the time where the needle abruptly came to a scratching halt. Sabrina felt her eye twitch. Even Alakazam's eyes widened minutely.
"You…borrowed that from one of the Kanto-Johto Elite Four members?" She asked in a harsh whisper. Trodaire nodded.
"Yeah! I called the League number and asked to speak to him. I think I was on hold for like an hour or two, but it was totally worth it! He remembered me, got me the hakama, and then invited me to check out some of his training at the Plateau in a few months when he gets back from travelling to Sinnoh." He said, completely oblivious to Sabrina's dumbfounded expression. Alakazam smirked.
"It would appear, Master Trodaire, that your audacity knows no bounds." It said mirthfully, projecting into the young man's mind. Trodaire's eyes widened.
"Whoa…" He said. "Is that your Alakazam speaking to me?" He asked. When the Pokemon nodded, he smiled even wider. "That is so cool, man!" He said, like a kid getting to peek at Christmas presents early. Sabrina sighed. She thought that he had been a rather stoic individual, but face him with something new and strange and he was like a newborn Growlithe, fascinated with the most inane of things…
What seemed to be worse was the fact that Alakazam was enjoying the company of Trodaire's infectious enthusiasm.
"Aren't we supposed to be training?" Sabrina asked testily. Alakazam slouched its shoulders, and floated over towards her. Trodaire took a seat in the corner of the room and began to watch.
TRODAIRE
It was…trippy. Sabrina and Alakazam were doing what looked like interpretive dance, kind of like Tai Chi, except instead of just dancing the room was clearly feeling some extra energy in the air. It had to be their psychic energy. It just had to be. In fact, as Trodaire watched, he noticed in shock that the edges of the room…were blurring. It was like the laws of reality were being thrown out the window and being told not to come back until they had learned to take some responsibility for their lives.
Then, as soon as it had begun, it was over. Sabrina and Alakazam were standing across the room from each other, facing one another in a very zen-looking pose. The blurring of reality had stopped, and things were allowed to return to normal. The ancient clock in the corner of the room chimed six times, and Trodaire blinked in shock. It was already six o clock? Things had gone that fast?
But there was the cameraman and his crew, already set up and ready to go. There were the other psychic trainers, all sitting around the edges of the room similar to how he was. And each of them had called forth a psychic Pokemon. There were Kadabras, Hypnos, Drowsees, Kirlias…It made Trodaire feel uncomfortable, especially considering that he was a Fighting type at heart and that the psychics in the room had felt that for sure and were making him as uncomfortable as possible.
Sabrina stood off to the side, and took an indian-style sitting position on the carpet. Alakazam stood in the center of the room, its eyes closed in a deep meditative trance. One of the psychics made a noise like clearing a throat, and a Kirlia bounded forward to the middle of the room. Sabrina spoke.
"It is six o clock. The Gauntlet has begun." She said coldly. There was no emotion in her voice, and Trodaire now knew why she was consistently voted "Scariest Gym Leader" in Battle Magazines.
The Kirlia gave a cry, and pirouetted towards Alakazam. It threw its arms towards Alakazam, and a rainbow beam of energy radiated towards the Gym Leader's Pokemon. But then Alakazam opened its eyes. They were shining with an unearthly power. Throwing its arms to the left, Alakazam caught the psychic blast, redirecting the Psybeam in midair, and then sent it right back at Kirlia. The inexperienced Pokemon was sent spinning off the mat, and consequentially out of the camera frame. As its trainer began to heal it, the next Pokemon was a Kadabra. Again, it tried a Psybeam. Again, Alakazam redirected it back at its opponent. But instead of being hit in the chest and knocked out like the Kirlia, this Kadabra caught its own blast and redirected it back to its original foe. Alakazam caught the re-redirected blast, and re-re-redirected it back at Kadabra. There was a flash, and Kadabra was knocked out.
Trodaire was mesmerized. He had never seen battling like this before. Not a punch was thrown, an opponent tossed, nor a drop of blood spilt on the carpet. Just a series of supremely mentally-trained Pokemon assaulting one another through planes of existence that mere humans could never dream of reaching, and only a select few being given the gift to glimpse even the slightest shade of that plane. And there was Trodaire, a complete outsider, taking it all in without a word.
Finally, Sabrina stood up.
"The Gauntlet has ended. My Alakazam cannot continue battling." She said calmly. Everyone nodded in unison, all except Trodaire who was a half-count behind. He noticed Sabrina's eyes flit over to him, but said nothing. Then he glanced in the middle of the room. It was true. Alakazam was resting its body weight against one of its kinetic spoons, with one knee on the ground. It was sweating heavily, breathing deeply. One of its eyes was closed in pain. But it had a slightly satisfied smirk on its face. Trodaire glanced at the counter in the corner of the room, and saw a large red 17. That was insane. He glanced at his watch. 8:30? It had gone that long?
Apparently when exposed to such refined psychic power, the laws of time and space began to feel slight side effects.
After the room had been cleared, and Trodaire continued sitting on the carpet pondering what he had seen, he felt a tapping on his shoulder. It was Sabrina.
"Mr. Phoenix, are you coming with us?" She asked flatly. Trodaire blinked once in confusion, but then nodded.
It took him a second to take off the hakama, and then he was out the door of the gym following the group of psychics to the ritzy place they were headed to. One thing that he did notice, however: all of the psychics were giving him and their master Sabrina a respectful circle of distance, leaving only Sabrina walking next to him.
What could it mean?
SABRINA
Sometimes, her trainers could be so far removed from subtlety it seemed inhuman. Sighing, she turned to Trodaire.
"What did you think?" She asked. He just chuckled softly.
"Incredible…" He said in a dazed whisper. Sabrina gave a satisfied smirk, and glanced in the direction of the place her group usually went to after the event. It was a small and quaint eatery that did not seem at all proper for a group of psychics, but Sabrina never liked attention for her and her trainers when they were on the town.
It was her, Trodaire, and a trio of her most trusted trainers. The rest had been unable to come. At least that made paying the bill a little bit easier.
When they reached the front door, the hostess smiled.
"Miss Sabrina, who's the guy friend?" She said with a wink. Sabrina blushed.
"Just a friend, Traci. Could you let us in to our usual spot?" She asked. Traci nodded, and bouncily led the quintet to the corner table in the back.
"So, Mr. Phoenix, what did you think of Mistress Sabrina's display?" Cecilia asked. Trodaire smiled, taking another spoonful of his order of Sharpedo-fin soup.
"I think you all are incredible. It was like watching soundless fireworks, or being inside a painting as the artist paints it, if that makes sense." He said, smiling as the psychics laughed at his unique description of their talent. It had even gotten Sabrina to smile. "Just a treat and an honor to watch." He said.
"Is there anything like that in Orre?" One of the psychics asked. To Sabrina's surprise, Trodaire's expression darkened.
"No. There's nothing like that in Orre." He said bluntly. "Nothing that sophisticated." He said. "Fights are pretty bloody in my home country, and I think I can count on one hand the number of times I'd seen a psychic Pokemon before I came to the gym tonight."
He didn't elaborate, and the psychics didn't press. But Sabrina wondered what he was hiding.
The rest of the night was uneventful. When the quintet left, the three psychics under Sabrina all took their leave and headed home. That left Sabrina and Trodaire walking back towards the Fight Club and the Saffron Gym.
Together.
Alone.
"You seem kind of curt when people ask you about your home country." Sabrina experimented after a moment or two or silence. Trodaire replied almost immediately.
"I don't like people immediately associating me with that place. I want to be thought of as Trodaire Phoenix, from Orre. Not that kid from Orre, Trodaire Phoenix. Make sense?" He said. He winced when he realized that that had come off as too harsh. "I'm sorry I snapped. It was just a question you were asking." He admitted. Sabrina smiled a little bit.
"It's okay. I understand the wanting to be known as yourself, and not for what you're known for." She said.
"How?" Trodaire asked. Sabrina sighed.
"It's hard being a psychic, Trodaire. It's a lonely, hard life. And for a girl, even harder. You know how much we have to deal with already." She said.
To be honest, Trodaire didn't, at least not entirely. But seeing as how it would be suicide for him to even insinuate as much, he decided the safest course of action was a sympathetic nod. He guessed right.
"Do you worry about the fight?" Sabrina asked. Trodaire shook his head.
"Me, worry? Nah, not at all! Nope." He said. To his surprise, Sabrina grabbed his hand and led him over to a fence by the side of the road. She looked him directly in the eye.
"Tell me the truth. I'm not reading your mind, but I know when someone is lying to me." She said gently. Trodaire looked at her, and sighed.
"Who am I kidding, Sabrina?" He said after a moment's contemplative silence. "I'm a nobody from Orre, who blew in here with nothing but the clothes on my back, a handful of money that I scraped together over a decade of staying alive in the streets when I decided I needed to leave that hellhole of a country, a suitcase of personal belongings that are worth nothing to anyone except me, and nothing but the hopes and prayers that I'd make it in one piece. And now I'm supposed to be coaching a former champion on how to beat a current champion? I'm just teaching Steven safer versions of the things I learned in the streets, but Lance? He's got years and years and years of the most sophisticated and ancient battling techniques in his corner. He has the mystique, he has the power and the fame of being the most legendary trainer alive. Do you know how many times he's lost in his career? In almost twenty years of battling?" He asked. Sabrina shook her head.
"ONCE. He has lost ONCE. To that Boy from the Mountain that might as well be a myth. No one really pays attention to that loss or even cares, because the Boy might not even exist for all they know. He's become as much of a legend as their hero Lance is. But Steven is a beatable foe. He is something that stands in the way of their hero. To them he is insufficient, to them he is something to be taken out with alongside the trash. And I'm supposed to have Steven go in there, face down the Dragon Master and his legions of fans, and essentially give them the middle finger and beat him? There's no way. I'm out of my league. I'm setting up Steven for a failure, and I don't know if I can admit it to him." He was shaking now, and in the coming gloaming of night, Sabrina could see that he was starting to cry. "And what'll happen then? They'll tear Steven down, because he was dumb enough to trust some bum from the streets, just another Orrean rat who scurried out of his mud hut. Steven doesn't deserve that, but that's what he'll get. And that's what I'm gonna be: just another bum from the burned country." He looked Sabrina in the eye, tears clearly coming down his cheek. "Aren't I just pathetic?" He said with a sad smile. "Here I am, talking to a pretty girl and I break down in tears. But that's just my luck, isn't it?" He asked.
Sabrina hadn't said anything, instead just letting Trodaire take ragged breaths as he calmed himself down, only to go on another rant.
"I just…I just want Steven to make Dragonite feel it. That damned Dragon has gone through its entire career breezing through every challenge it has ever faced. Every last one of them. Arceus, I don't think it's ever been knocked down once! But all I want, when that tournament rolls around, is for it to be down to the last man for both Lance and Steven. It'll be Dragonite against Aggron, and I want to see, for the first time in its life, that Dragonite realize that this challenger isn't going to back down. This challenger isn't going to curl up and faint. This challenger is going to take its best shots…and just keep coming. And hit it just as hard as it gets hit. And I want to see the look in Dragonite's eyes when it realizes: Wait a minute, this one could beat me." Trodaire sighed. "If I see that, then I'll know for the first time in my life that I wasn't just another bum from the dust of the earth."
What Sabrina did next was something that neither of them could have expected in a million years. She looked at him, silently, and then threw her arms around him and pulled him into a hug. Trodaire was surprised to feel it, but in a moment reciprocated the motion. For the longest time, they were holding each other, the only sound being the swaying of the trees in the evening wind and the sound of their breath. Then, Sabrina looked up at the Orrean that she'd come to know and respect in the four months she'd known him.
"You're not a bum from the dust of the earth. You're not a bum at all." She said quietly. Trodaire chuckled, and Sabrina felt the shaking of his chest against her head. It was a warm feeling, actually.
"Oh, yeah?" Trodaire said. "Why's that?" He asked. Sabrina smiled.
"Because I said so." She said. "And if even one person thinks that, then it can't be wrong." She looked around. "It's getting late. We should probably head back now. People will think we're a couple or something." She added with a wry smile.
And so they went, walking down the road towards their respective homes. Trodaire's arm around Sabrina's waist, Sabrina's arms around his. To outsiders who might have been walking out late that night and seen the two of them, it would've appeared to be a young couple walking home after an evening together.
And then again, dear readers, who are we to say otherwise?
A/N: I have made NOTHING official yet, my dear readers. Just a private and intimate moment between two people who are now close friends. (How can you not become that, after having a conversation like that between one another?) Hope you enjoyed a glimpse into the inner fears of Trodaire's soul, and you'll enjoy the next one too! We're getting tantalizingly close to the fight itself. Four weeks (in-story) away!
See you next time!