A/N: I own a copy of at least one game from every Generation, but that's about it.
TRODAIRE
Castelia City was…huge. No, that wasn't nearly an acceptable enough word to describe the enormity of this place. Buildings that seemed to scrape the sky. Glass, steel, and chrome the materials of choice. There might be more people in this city than the entire Orre region. It was overwhelming, really. When he had followed Cynthia and Steven down main street, he had stopped and gawked at the sheer number of men and women in suits running to and from work. If he hadn't been careful, he would've been swept away in the sea of people running around like confused Doduo.
He felt a clap on his shoulder. It was Steven.
"Crazy, isn't it?" The Steel Master asked. "It doesn't matter how many times I've been here: I get just as weirded out too. Think these people even know what's going on in two weeks?" He asked teasingly. Behind them, Cynthia smiled.
"I wouldn't criticize them too much, Steven. It's highly likely that some of the people running to work here are the same people that are in charge of helping put together the entire tournament." She said. She then looked thoughtful. "As a matter of fact, I think that that friend of Lance's is arriving tonight, too."
"I have a question." Trodaire said. As they walked on the sidewalk towards the WPHO headquarters where the evaluation was taking place. "Just who is this 'Boy from the Mountain' that you all keep talking about? I've never even heard of the guy." He said indignantly.
"That's because if he doesn't want to be talked about, he doesn't get talked about in faraway places like Orre or even Sinnoh." Cynthia said. "The only reason I even knew he existed was the first time that I was inducted in the Hall of Fame, and he was at the ceremony." Steven suddenly looked interested.
"Did he say anything to you about it?" He asked. Cynthia shook her head.
"Nope. He just gave that little smile of his, shook my hand, and then disappeared into the night. And yet…" She trailed off. "…That smile meant more to me than a long-winded speech full of platitudes ever could have." Steven nodded.
"Yep. That's literally what he did at my induction, too." He said. Trodaire was even more confused.
"Waaaait a second here. Have either of you heard him talk before?" He asked.
There was a pause.
"Nope." Cynthia said.
"Not a peep." Steven said. "Though apparently he talks to Lance all the time."
"He's the only real friend that Lance has got in this world, I think." Cynthia said. "Sometimes I think Lance feels that when people try to be his 'friends' they're really out to say that they're palling up with one of the greatest trainers of all time. I think the two of them, though, are tried and true friends. They both know a thing or two about how lonely it is at the top."
"But you guys are Champions too!" Trodaire said. "Don't you guys understand?" He asked. Cynthia just laughed.
"We're regional Champions, yes. But we're not World champions, Trodaire. For whatever reason some reporter on a lazy day many years ago must have come up with that distinction, and right now only Lance and that boy are considered World champions." She said. "I'd rather just be where I am right now. Think of how much unnecessary work that must be. Steven and I at least have a life outside of the Pokemon League. Lance, I'm not sure he does. And I have honestly no idea what the Boy from the Mountain does with his spare time. Just sits and meditates on Mount Silver's peak, perhaps." She said. Steven grinned.
"I've heard all sorts of crazy rumors about him." He said. Cynthia raised an eyebrow.
"Oh? And what might some of those be?" She asked. Steven grinned even wider.
"I've heard that he's spoken to the Legendaries on a daily basis and that he plays cards with Arceus." Steven said. "He lets Arceus win so that it can continue to feel adequate."
"Not bad." Cynthia said. "I've heard that when his Pokemon do push-ups, they're not pushing up; they're pushing the earth down."
"What about the myth that in the beginning every Pokemon looked exactly the same, and so he had his team beat them all into varying shapes and shades of black and blue? That's where we got all of the various Pokemon!" He said.
It was clear that this had now escalated into a good-natured argument over who could come up with the most ridiculous story while making it still sound at least a little bit plausible. Trodaire just sighed. He looked up, and saw a large gleaming building that had WPHO emblazoned on the side. They were there. Finally.
"Guys, I'm gonna head inside and register us." He said. When he saw that they hadn't heard him, he just shook his head. "So you continue deciding which of you is the better storyteller." He walked away, muttering something about champions behaving like little children under his breath.
The inside of the WPHO building was immaculately clean. It was glass and steel, and if there was a dust ball somewhere Trodaire was certain that a nearby Chansey or Blissey would come and sweep it away. He walked to the receptionist's counter, where an absolutely gorgeous woman was working.
"Uh, excuse me?" He asked. The woman turned to look him, and Trodaire tried not to look too hard into her strikingly green eyes lest he become lost in them. "I'm, um, here to register my trainer's team for the World Tournament."
"Name, please?" She asked sweetly. Trodaire sighed.
"Uh…try Steven Stone." He said. The woman punched the name into her computer, and the pleasant look on her face indicated that she had found what she was looking for.
"Done!" She said. "Mr. Stone is now officially accounted for. His examination will be in about two hours. I'm afraid that the trainers before him in the bracket are taking longer than expected." Trodaire nodded, took the punch-key card that the woman had given him, and headed back out to the front of the building where Cynthia and Steven were still arguing.
"…I've heard that his tears cure Pokerus! The problem is that he's never cried." Steven said. Cynthia looked thoughtful, and then smiled.
"I've heard that he's never lost a Pokemon battle once in his life." She said smugly. Steven threw up his armed in defeat.
"Got me there." He admitted. He turned to see Trodaire. "Oh, hey Trodaire! Did you check me in?" He asked. Trodaire wordlessly tossed him the key card, and Cynthia took that as her cue to punch in as well. As she left, Trodaire turned to Steven.
"I'm gonna walk around the city for a bit. You're not up for two hours, anyway." He said. Steven nodded, then thought of something.
"Here, take this." He said, tossing something small and metal to Trodaire. The Orrean caught it, and then saw that it was a PokeGear.
"What's this?" He asked. Steven smiled.
"A thank you gift for everything you've done so far. Also, no self-respecting coach shouldn't have a cell phone of some sort." He said. Trodaire smiled appreciatively, and then walked away from the WPHO building. As soon as he was safely out of earshot, Steven smirked. "I hope you were right, Cynthia…" He muttered, before walking inside to join his girlfriend. As he did, he absently felt his left pants pocket, where he was carrying a small box with something very small and beautiful inside it. When the time is right…
As Trodaire was playing with his new PokeGear, he saw that there was a new message in the text box. He opened it up.
I hope everything is going well in Unova.
He was confused. He didn't recognize the number. But then again, it was probably someone he knew. So, being the nice guy he was (not wanting to leave this person hanging), he slowly punched in his reply. After all, this was the first time he'd ever used a smartphone before.
It is so far. I'm sorry if this seems rude, but who is this?
SABRINA
It is so far. I'm sorry if this sees rude, but who is this?
She stared at that response for a split second, did a double take that he had actually responded (he was too nice, darn it!) and in seconds replied back.
Your neighbor, dummy.
…
Sabrina? How'd you get this number?
Cynthia bought the thing, and then sent out a text to a bunch of people asking for their numbers so that she could add them onto your PokeGear. Do you like it?
…
Yeah, it's amazing! Never had anything like this back home. Just getting used to typing on a keyboard, though…
Oh don't worry. You'll get used to it.
She sat there at her desk, tongue pressed against the inside of her cheek as she figured what to say next. Assuming that he'd be probably busy for the next few hours, she decided to keep it simple.
I'm sure you've got a lot to worry about over there. Let me know how it goes, ok?
She closed her PokeGear, and sighed. Then she allowed herself an evil grin. That poor little fool didn't realize it, but now there was nowhere for him to hide…
"Madam Sabrina, I must say that your thoughts concerning Master Trodaire are very confusing."
"Oh, what do you know, you overgrown Abra?" Sabrina grumbled, before lounging in her chair again.
TRODAIRE
He had found himself so immersed in the city itself and his new PokeGear that before long Trodaire found himself in the harbor of Castelia, staring out into the Great Sea in front of him. It was a stunning vast quantity of water, and Trodaire couldn't help but marvel at its inherent beauty. He squinted, and could have sworn that he saw Dewgong in the distance jumping out of the water.
"It's a marvel, isn't it?" Another man's voice said. Trodaire blinked once in surprise, and turned to face the speaker. He was an aging man, probably in his mid-fifties with black hair that was starting to show signs of gray. His face was starting to wrinkle, yet there was a mischievous glint in his eye. He had an unassuming pair of glasses perched on his nose. He looked like an accountant or businessman that never saw the outside of a cubicle for nine hours a day, five days a week. Yet for whatever reason, Trodaire couldn't help but reply to his remarks.
"I've never seen it before." The Orrean admitted. The man next to him nodded.
"Most Orreans say the same thing." He said. When Trodaire looked confused, the man smiled. "I've been to the region myself. It's a beautiful place in its own way, but you and I both know that water isn't what one would call an 'abundant' resource there."
"'Beautiful' isn't the word I'd use." Trodaire said. The man looked at him quizzically.
"You grow up in a rough area?" The man asked. Trodaire laughed.
"Where is it not rough in Orre?" He asked. The man couldn't help but grin.
"I hear Agate Village or Phenac City is pretty this time of year." He said. Now he had Trodaire's full attention.
"Pyrite." Trodaire admitted. "I'm from Pyrite Town." This earned him a look of sympathy from the man next to him.
"I've been there. You seem remarkably well-adjusted for a youngster out of there." He said. Instead of being offended like he normally would, Trodaire felt a little flattered. Maybe it was because this man seemed like he knew what he was talking about when he talked about Orre. "How old are you?"
"Twenty four." Trodaire said. "Well, I turn twenty four in a few weeks, but it's close enough."
"Ah. I just celebrated my fiftieth last month. You make me feel old…You must've been in Pyrite during some of the really difficult times. The mining business drying up, crime exploding…" The man said.
"…Street fighting…" Trodaire said under his breath. The man heard this, but gave no mention or sign of it.
"It's a sign of a man's strength when he is able to beat the impossible odds that others set for him," the man said. "The fact that you are here and not a statistic there is a sign of yours." He extended his hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, by the way. What's your name?"
"Trodaire. Trodaire Phoenix." Trodaire said, shaking the man's name.
"That's an excellent name, with an added bonus for someone who speaks old Orrean." The man said. "My name is Arach." He looked quizzical. "If you don't mind me asking, but what are you here for in Castelia?"
"I'm here for the WPHO health examination for the World Tournamen-" Trodaire realized. "Oh no! I'm here for the WPHO health examination for the World Tournament!" He started to sprint off, before he felt the man's arm grab his shoulder.
"Relax, young man. They only require the actual trainers themselves to be there at exactly the start time of the examination. Seeing as how you are none of the champions, you can afford to take your time. As a matter of fact, I'm here for the World Tournament as well. Would you like to walk back with me?" He asked, casually beginning to walk away without waiting for Trodaire's response. The Orrean blinked once, and then hurriedly followed after him.
"Uh, thanks for waiting." Trodaire said as he caught up to the man in question. "But I gotta ask: why are you here for the World Tournament?"
"I'm a bored old man looking for some entertainment." Arach said. "And I must confess, I love Pokemon battles. There's something so elegant about them."
"You and I must be watching different battles." Trodaire commented snidely as they weaved through the sea of people. Arach shrugged.
"I suppose you have a point. Each type of Pokemon fights a little bit differently. For example, I assume that you are a fan of Fighting types?"
"How do you know?" Trodaire asked. Arach smiled.
"It's in the way you carry yourself. You must be a martial artist, considering the tone of your body and the way you walk with your shoulders back. You aren't afraid of yourself or ashamed. You can take on anyone who challenges you. Yet you look down at the ground because you don't want to hurt anyone, so you convey a sense of a gentle giant." He smiled a little bit more. "Though seeing as you are barely over six foot tall, 'giant' might not be the right word." Arach explained. Trodaire was silent.
"What is your favorite type of Pokemon?" He finally asked.
"Favorite? I like them all, but I must confess that I enjoy the mystery of Dragons." Arach said. "Training one is a mirror of living life, I've always thought."
"How do you figure?" Trodaire asked. Arach shrugged.
"They are capable of incredible strength, of great and powerful and terrible things. They are stubborn and rude and fickle creatures that often do not know their place or refuse to recognize it. This is when they are young, or when they refuse to learn or accept that they may be flawed. And yet when they learn to accept who and what they are and strive to better even that…that is when they take to the skies and become incredible." He looked at Trodaire. "It's the same with us humans. We are capable of feats of incredible strength, power, brutality, and awe. We are also capable of breath-taking accomplishments of beauty and wonder. We like to think that we know everything about anything. We also know that sometimes we know nothing about anything. It is only when we accept that we do not in fact know everything and are flawed that we begin to grow and become great. So, in reality, Dragons are my favorite because whenever I see a Dragon take flight for the first time I am reminded of how humans are also capable of accomplishing something equally as breath-taking." He finished just as they reached the WPHO building. Trodaire stared at him with a look of awe on his face.
"I've…I've never thought of it like that before." He admitted. "I just saw them as legends, as things that needed to be brought down to our level."
"They do." Arach admitted. "But getting them down to our level is what separates the average, run-of-the-mill trainer from the one that is serious about understanding the relationship we share with Pokemon. And that's where the fun really begins." He glanced to the front door and smiled. "It would appear my friends are looking for me." He said. Trodaire looked to where he was staring, and felt his jaw drop to the ground.
Clair and Lance.
They were both looking at Trodaire, and while Lance's expression was a combination of blankness and confusion, Clair's was one of absolute revulsion.
"What are you doing with him, Grandmaster?" Clair asked, barely containing her rage. Trodaire didn't even care that she had taken the time to belittle him yet again, for his head was spinning from her last word. Grandmaster…Arach was their Grandmaster? Grandmaster of…He was the Grandmaster of the Dragon Clan? And Trodaire had challenged him on why he liked Dragons? It was a wonder he hadn't summoned a Hydreigon out of thin air to rip the Orrean's head off. Trodaire was certain that the unassuming man carried one around for such occasions.
"If I wish to entertain myself with a fine young gentleman who offered to help a man who was lost in a new city, that is entirely my business." Arach said politely, yet the implication was clear: they were not to question his authority or choice of company in this manner. Trodaire couldn't believe it when Clair and Lance both bowed respectfully to his words. Arach raised an eyebrow. "I believe your test is next, Lance. I think it would be wise for us all to go in and see what they think of your team." He said. Lance and Clair turned around and walked back inside the building. Arach walked after them, but then turned and stopped so that he was facing Trodaire once more.
"I am a bored old man looking for some entertainment." Arach said. "I get the feeling that you and Mr. Stone will provide that entertainment in two weeks." He winked cryptically, and then walked back inside after his disciples.
It was in that moment that Trodaire realized that Grandmaster Arach had known who he was the entire time, and the revelation of this knowledge was enough to cause him to collapse onto the nearest bench in shock.
STEVEN
He was still there when Steven exited the building with Cynthia thirty minutes later. Steven saw his dumbfounded expression and frowned.
"You ok, buddy?" He asked.
"Yeah…" Trodaire said vacantly. "I'm…I had an interesting day, is all." He looked up at the two of them. "How'd the exam go?" Steven smiled.
"We got the all-clear! Even Excadrill is okayed to go! So what's left for the last two weeks?" He asked. Trodaire looked at him, and the vacant expression was gone.
"We downplay the physical work for now. For the next two weeks…it's about the head game. We're gonna discuss the mental part of beating Lance." He said. "Be prepared for a lot of speeches." He grumbled. Steven and Cynthia smiled in approval, and with that the trio departed to catch the next train back to Kanto. Trodaire glanced back at the WPHO organization, and could've sworn that he saw an aging man in glasses who looked like an unassuming accountant make eye contact with him and give an approving nod, before disappearing in the crowd.
SABRINA
It had been a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day. She'd faced five trainers, and of them three were walking on to Cinnabar to take on crazy old Blaine (who'd consoled her by saying he'd roast them easily) while the other two had given her a serious beat down even in defeat. Alakazam was still meditating to help recover from the battering he'd taken, and whenever Sabrina glanced over to see his black eye she felt a pang of regret.
"Worry not, Madam Sabrina. For even if I were to lose this eye (and I should assure you I shan't), Great Arceus has given me a spare."
"Thanks for the support." Sabrina said. It had been hard, it had been difficult, and the last thing she wanted was for anyone to talk to her right now. She was planning on getting comfortable and watching a couple of dumb chick flicks with a carton of ice cream for her and her hard-working team as a reward for how they'd done. Thank GOD the gym was closed tomorrow for cleaning. She'd be up late.
So understandably, she was pissed when her PokeGear started squawking on the table. It was an incoming call, but Sabrina immediately whipped the phone to her ear and snarled.
"Darn it Misty, I am in NO MOOD to hear about how well your little precious Gyarados did today swimming in the Cerulean POOL!"
There was a pause.
"Uh…should I call back later?"
It was a voice that was decidedly not Misty and decidedly male. Sabrina's eyes widened in panic, and she nearly dropped the phone.
"T-Trodaire?" She asked. "Is that you?"
"No, it's Misty. And boy let me tell you, little Gary is doing GREAT! Why just the other day he made to one end of the pool and back!" Trodaire's voice was snide, and it was enough to make Sabrina's face fall.
"Ha. Ha. Ha." She said. Trying to ignore the butterflies in her stomach, she absently drummed her fingers on the desk. "So, um, what are you calling for?"
"Just wanted to see how things went yesterday and earlier today while I was coming home from Unova. I'm…guessing that they weren't the best."
"You have NO idea." Sabrina said.
"What happened?"
"You don't wanna know." Sabrina warned.
"Don't worry. I'm a good listener."
"Well, ok…" Sabrina said, a smile cracking on her face. "If you insist…"
TWO HOURS LATER
"…and then Blaine said that he was gonna personally fry that punk's team with his Magmar! You probably guessed his Pokemon would be Magmar, didn't you?" She asked.
"I did. Seemed like the kind of Pokemon he'd use." Trodaire said patiently. "You feeling better?"
"Much." Sabrina said with a smile. "Now I think I can get on with my day."
"Which involves breaking into the Fight Club to work on my wooden dummy, right?" Trodaire asked smugly. He laughed at Sabrina's shocked silence. "If you wanna use that baby, just ask! Don't give Conkeldurr a reason to smack something with those honking concrete pillars he carries."
"Oh, um, right." Sabrina said. "Um, I'll do that then."
"What? Let me show you how to use that thing?" Trodaire asked teasingly. Sabrina nodded, realized that he couldn't see her, and then spoke.
"Yes. I'll be over tomorrow. Right now I can wait."
"Ice cream?" Trodaire asked. Sabrina smiled.
"It never fails."
"Agreed. Well, I'll see you tomorrow then!"
"Alright, good bye!" Sabrina said. She hung up, and then sighed contentedly. Alakazam silently walked up next to her, clutching an icepack against its blackened eye.
"If getting punched in the face is what it takes for you to start admitting you care about Master Phoenix, I shudder to think of what you require of me when you consider dating the fellow."
"Oh, shut up Alakazam."
A/N: Another one in the books! We're so…damned…close! See you next time, and I hope you liked this one!
Hint: If you're wondering, I use Gaelic as a substitute for Orrean. So if you want to know what some of the words that don't look like English mean…you can look them up. See you later!