Disclaimer: I do not own Pokemon, or any of its affiliated companies. The characters in this work are all loosely based on those created by Pokemon and its companies, and this story will never by no means be used to make monetary profit or gain.
BLUE'S JOURNAL
The Marksman:
"We have considered your request Trainer Blue," Elder Li began. "And it saddens me deeply to inform you, we have decided otherwise."
"Please do not take it personally," Elder Chow continued. "But given the nature of your pokemon..."
"We have searched his soul," Elder Jin finished. "And have found nothing but violence there. Our methods are not for such."
And all three of them stroked their overgrown white beards at the same time.
Meanwhile, all I could think was don't look at it, don't look at it, don't look at it...
The it in mention was a certain flying oversized bug pokemon behind Elder Jin, master of the ancient style of quiver dancing, one of the three great pokemon martial arts. The other two masters were at Elder Jin's two sides; Elder Chow, sensei of swords dancing, was seated cross legged with his spiky sandslash lying in front of him, and Elder Li, the dragon dancer, with his dragonair coiled around.
I sat across them, and I did appreciate the effort they had gone through to make their visitors feel humbled by their greatness when confronting them. Both the dragonair and sandslash were impressive enough, with one of them being a third dan swords and the other a sixth dan dragon dancer, any guest would sheer at the power emitted from these beasts. And the icing to the cake was the sixth dan quiver dancer masquerain flying being Elder Jin. The aggressive patterns on its spread wings would intimidate even the bravest of creatures, men and pokemon alike.
Hence was my reason to avoid looking at it. No way was I going to show weakness in front of the elders of the Sprout Tower sages, who were known to be practitioners and perfectors of pokemon fighting styles for generations.
Two weeks had passed since I had left Red in Cerulean. Because all ports were booked and I did not trust shadowing enough, it took the entirety of the first week just to reach Violet City on the back of a rented farrow. Unfortunately, I wasn't the one flying the great bird due to being short of three badges, the minimum requirement for a flying license.
Shame really. Not to diss the flyer who brought me here, but I was sure I could make the journey in five days or less. Couldn't wait until Sky evolved and I had myself some badges so I could fly to my liking.
The other week passed trying to arrange this meeting, which had only been granted to me due to the name Oak. I had pulled on some impressive strings and called in some mighty favors to get to see the three elders of a reclusive cult, favors that were probably going to make gramps' face grimace when he heard about them.
And now after all the trouble I had gone through, these three were telling me that my heracross Invictus was not fit to be trained in the way of swords dance. Apparently, his nature was too violent to be taught an art of war. Go figure.
Except I had already figured that part out. There was no way these peaceful monks were going to teach Vic their sacred war dance. Not to be shooting down my own pokemon, but he was a somewhat recovering poison addicted killer, and the idea of teaching him to fight more in controlled, more effective even scared me. Nah, all of this asking the sprout sages to train Vic was a farce for my real reason here, so I wasn't actually disappointed with their answer.
But I wasn't going to let them know that. Especially when I could see they were getting more nervous by the minute, the fear of my name and their obvious discomfort at me being not affected by the masquerain was straining their so-called nerves of steel.
Heh, they shouldn't have tried power playing an Oak.
"Your answer is... disappointing," I started in a calm, low voice. "And I must confess my confusion in the somewhat paradoxical rules of your teachings. Do you not claim to train all pokemon the dancing arts in order to achieve strength? How is it you claim to accept all but ignore mine? Or is becoming one of your blind followers an unmentioned pre-required rule - must I give up my freedom and be a soldier for the knowledge I seek, the knowledge you keep only to yourselves?"
Good, I thought when I saw their faces red in anger. Like playing the legs of a kricketune.
"Your answer alone is enough of a reason for us rejecting you and your pokemon, and why, if not your name, we would not be having this meeting," spat Elder Chow. "So arrogant in youth, child, you do not even see the answer in the words of your own seviper tongue. Yes, we teach all to reach strength. But only to reach. Never to use. Never. You disappoint Garrett Oak, I thought you as at least a capable trainer and respectable man with a somewhat wild pokemon, but now I see-"
"What brother Chow means is we must kindly, but insist upon you leaving our tower before more unmeant words are thrown," Elder Li cut Chow mid-sentence, glaring at him. Realizing he had lost his temper, Elder Chow's angry face was replaced with an embarrassed look.
"Oh no Elder Li, I think enough words have been thrown," I continued, preparing to get up on my feet. "As someone often referred to as mentally gifted, I remember them all. I think so far in these last five minutes I have been called arrogant and too young, a disappointment, seviper tongued, and the possible opposites of capable and respectable which was probably how Elder Chow would prefer ending his ranting with, if not interrupted."
I smirked at them as I stood. "I can only hope to remember all when I relay them to my grandfather. I did mention I was his only grandson, his only living heir since his son, my father died, did I? He likes spoiling me, the soft heart of an elderly man. I wonder how he'll act against those who insult me."
I knew it was a bastardly thing to say. From the looks the elders were giving, I knew they also knew it was a bastardly thing to say, and even their pokemon seemed to know it was a bastardly thing to say. The dragonair gave me long hiss.
But here was the thing about bastardly things. They tended to work out very well.
"... Much apologies for our brother's temper, Trainer Blue." Elder Jin chose his words carefully now. "But though they could have been presented with less emotion, even you, or I expect even your grandfather, cannot deny that they were true, albeit harsh. I am sorry if you were expecting otherwise Trainer Blue, but even in the face of your... family's influence, we must still decline in teaching you and your pokemon the way."
A minute's silence passed before I bowed my head. "I can respect that," I said and the tension in the room seemed to be removed, Elder Chow even let out a relieved sigh. "But if I am to leave this tower empty handed, might I ask from you three, the leaders of your brotherhood, a small favor?"
"Perhaps we should first ask your wish before granting it," Elder Li cautiously replied.
"It is not much," I said. "But I have learned that the family friend of a friend of mine has joined your brotherhood, a sailor in fact, one who has crossed the seas between Indigo and Hoenn."
"You speak of Brother Ernest," Elder Jin said, surprised. "What of him Trainer Blue?"
"Yes, yes, Captain Ernest. My friend, you see, grew up with stories of the sea and the adventures of sea men. The stories were captivating, filled with romance and battles against great sea beasts, and even left an impression on me as a child whenever I would visit his home. These tales were all told by Captain James Ernest, and having met my friend recently and heard that his beloved uncle Ernest had retreated to the Sprout Brotherhood, seeing it was my destination, well, it felt almost a shame not to ask meeting him. But the sage at your door has declined my simple request, citing that outsiders were not allowed to speak with their members. I was simply wondering, if you could..." Everything I just said was complete tauros shit, total lies. But the smiles the elders had on their face told me I convinced them.
Elder Chow rang a bell and a cleanly shaven young man in a robe appeared out of nowhere, startling me. "Brother Nico, would you do the honors of escorting Trainer Blue here to Brother Ernest. They shall have an audience together," he addressed the boy.
"A private audience," I muttered and everyone nodded. The power of the human psyche, I thought. Ask for one great thing and make them feel bad for refusing it, only to let them grant you something smaller. Sometimes it's hard not to agree with Red, us humans are predictable and boring.
After having said the necessary farewells, I followed Sage Nico into a small chamber where he told me to wait for a moment and that he would bring Brother Ernest. I didn't have to wait long, a minute later a middle-aged man supporting a rough beard and round belly entered.
I didn't wait for him to prepare himself. "Captain James Ernest of the S.S. Jane, I am here to ask you about your last voyage from Hoenn's Slateport City to Indigo's Vermilion." The way his eyes widened told me I had found the right guy. He abruptly turned around to exit, but I wasn't finished yet. "You can do that Captain Ernest, but you must know I am a man of influence. I have even convinced your elders in granting me permission to speak with you and speak I will. Exit that door, and..." I didn't need to end my threat, grumbling, he came back and sat down.
"Knew this day would come," he muttered, eyeing me carefully at the same time. "Didn't expect it to come from a youngling though."
"If it reassures you, I am neither from the league nor a journalist, just a trainer with questions about what exactly happened," I said. "Now, I want to read you something from three years ago. Something I wouldn't believe true, but seeing as you are here, an early retired captain far away from sea, I think there's more to it than it seems."
Trying to hide the excitement I was feeling, I took out my dex in trembling hands and began reading the short piece of news dating a few years past. "A somewhat extraordinary mystery occurs on the decks of the S.S. Jane, a ship that regularly transports goods between Hoenn and Indigo. During the forty-three-day journey, shipmates awakened to the corpse of one dead wild pokemon lying on the deck each day. The victim pokemon were mostly wingull, but every now and then, more dangerous pokemon would appear, the likes of sharpedo, tentacruel, and once even a gyarados, one sailor quotes. 'Except these guys weren't exactly on the deck, can you imagine the body of a gyarados on your ship, you don't want that,' our source claims. 'No, they were, there's no easy way to say it, mutilated. The one gyarados' head was severed, that's what we found, and the others, them tentacruel had no tentacles and the sharpedo's eyes were gouged out. Luckily, we didn't see their bodies a lot, mostly wingull were dead.' The one thing all deaths had in common was that the pokemon were somehow pierced by some sharp object, but no weapon of such kind could be found."
Finished, I looked at Captain Ernest. "Anything to add?"
"It's true," was all he said, crossing his arms.
"No offense, but it doesn't seem that traumatizing enough for you to retire to a monastery," I tested him. "I mean, I know you sailor types, you were probably glad someone was cleaning out gyarados and stuff."
"Someone?" James Ernest looked at me incredibly. "If you think a person did that you don't deserve to be called a trainer son."
"Fine, a pokemon wielded by a trainer then, but these attacks obviously have human intelligence behind the-"
"Do not underestimate them," the sailor whispered. He raised his head, and looked at me directly and there was fear in his eyes. "The wild. That's what we call it. A container of everything dangerous and unknown, all beasts that threaten men. And you know what kid, this kind of thing, this only comes from something even the wild rejects."
"What do you mean?" I asked captured by his words.
A brief pause occurred before Captain Ernest continued. "Every sea man knows, the big blue is the most dangerous place on earth. You see, on land you build walls to protect yourself from the wild. The skies are also relatively safe, attacks from even the truly dangerous predators are rare, and since men cannot live in the skies, the two species tend to their own."
His mind seemed to be elsewhere as he went on. "But the sea, she has always been mankind's greatest challenge. For some idiotic reason, we always try conquering her, and always fail. And admittedly, that's her lure, aye, that's her charm. We build rafts, she throws great waves and giant tentacruel. We build boats, only to meet wild winds and sharpedo. We build frigates, mighty storms and gyarados sink them. Aye, a truly hopeless struggle, yet it is a struggle of strength, between wild and men, with the most capricious of mistresses as prize. It is a struggle I can understand."
He pointed my dex with his index finger. "This thing, this killer, is no part of our match. The wild, though a many headed beast it is, has its own rules, rules that every creature obeys. And this monster has decided against them."
"What?" I hoarsely asked, my throat dry from excitement.
"I keep thinking on those forty-three days," he said. "First day we found a dead wingull on deck. Them bird pokemon always follow us, they keep us company during our journey, flying freely above. I didn't think much of one dead gull, probably fell from the claws of some other predator. I personally threw it into the sea. But the second day we found another one. Third. Fourth. Went on for fourteen days. Then nothing. The next day, the sixteenth one, we found a tentacruel, its body slashed. By then the lads were getting superstitious, and I admit it was even hard for meself to keep faith. Seventeenth day also a miss. Next one a dead sharpedo. Then a week of only wingull. One day of nothing. Then tentacruel. Nothing. Tentacruel. Three other days of wingull."
"A pattern," I said. "For every wingull this thing doesn't hunt during the night, it replaces it with something higher on the food chain."
"Smart lad, aren't you," Captain Ernest confirmed. "The day we found the gyarados head, it had missed four days on a row."
"That's the second time you used that term. Miss." I noticed. "Why?"
"Think kid, think. To us, a ship is a means of transportation. But to the wild, it's-"
"A bucket," I cut in. "A nest. A floating basket filled with people." My eyes widened in realization. "You're saying... I can't believe I'm saying this, but, you're saying something was playing basketball with wingull. Every time it kills one, if the body lands in the ship, point. Every time it doesn't-"
"It punishes itself. By challenging larger things. Then throws them in the - what did you call it? The basket. My ship." He leaned forwards grasping his own arm. "This thing is a gamer. It is so strong, that it's gone beyond the rules of the wild. It makes its own rules, and is crazy enough to abide them. Now I can wrestle kingdra and even challenge Kyogre itself, but that's only because I know what to expect from them. This thing is an abomination kid, it's crazy, and no way am I setting sail again knowing it's out there. You call yourself a trainer kid, but I'd bet you've never seen or heard something like this before."
My brain flashed in memories of another too strong for his environment pokemon, one who had sought thrill in fighting against impossible odds and satisfying himself by injecting poison. Even at the cost of his own life, Invictus too had refused to bend his own self-made rules. It was hard not to see the similarities between my heracross and this new mystery pokemon.
Grinning, I slapped my hand to the table. "Thank you, Captain Ernest," I said. "You've been great help."
One of his eyebrows raised questionably. "That's it? You're not here to judge me, deem me a coward?"
"I am not in the position to judge someone Captain, I imagine the mental toll of finding the murder victims of a psychotic game every day on your deck being quite hard." I got up and offered him my hand. "I wish you find the peace you seek here."
Slowly, he shook my hand. "I have to ask son, you've sparked curiosity in my bones. Why did you dig up this old story?"
"Because I needed to confirm its truth," I answered. "Because I needed to confirm the beast's existence before I capture it." With that last remark I left the chamber, leaving a rather shocked looking Captain Ernest behind.
Sage Nico was waiting and he escorted me all the way outside of the sacred tower. He didn't return back in though after I stepped out. Instead, we walked together across the bridge over the river separating the tower from the rest of the city. When we finally reached the end, I turned towards him.
"Well?" I asked.
He reached into his robes, pulled out a small capsule, and gave it to me. "Here. As per our prearrangement, in here lies a copy of the original scroll of swords dance, and all its secrets."
As if I was ever going to stop pursuing these arts just because three old men had said no. I opened the lid and took out the pieces of paper, examining them. They seemed to be the real deal; the writings described every movement, every training regimen necessary to master swords dance, and also had helpful hand drawn pictures included. "Nice doing business with you," I said as I reached into my own pockets to withhold my end of the deal. "Here."
With trembling hands, Sage Nico took the single cigarette. "Thank Arceus and sweet Mew. Blessed be the beast and bird masters, and their emissaries." He lit the cigarette and breathed in deeply. "Ohhhh, I've missed this. Those bastards, forbidding this. Bastards."
And that was how I acquired an instruction manual to one the greatest fighting techniques ever, kept hidden and monopolized by three elderly men and their devoted followers. Simply by bribing one brother, forced to quit his habit, with one single cigarette.
There was a lesson here that needed learning but I didn't really care as I walked the way back to my hotel room, thinking how easy it was to sway the righteous from their path. This only proves more that the people need me as champion, was my final thought on the matter when I entered my room.
Hope, lying on the hotel bed comfortably, greeted me with a growl, and I scratched between her ears. "We got the confirmation we needed. And a little extra," I said. "Now baby, it's homework time."
The small table my room had was covered entirely in the numerous different sea charts I could print, mainly focusing on the seas between Hoenn, Kanto, and Johto. I took a bright red pin and nailed it near Vermilion City on one of the maps. "This is where the S.S. Jane ended its voyage," I explained to Hope, who jumped down the bed and up to the chair next to me. "So, the pokemon we're looking for was here a couple years back for sure. Now, listen to this. This is something else I found and it dates a year later."
I began reading aloud from my dex. "Cherrygrove City surprised by injured mantine! A mass colony of mantine hit the shores of the city of fragrant flowers, all of them alive, yet their wings are punched with large holes, crippling the pokemon's ability to fly. Rangers have no answer for what kind of wild pokemon could be responsible for such mutilation. Click for photos."
"There are four things to take note of here," I continued. "One, despite attacked, all the pokemon were left alive, only crippled. No ordinary wild pokemon does that. Two, mantine are dual flying water pokemon, like wingull. Coincidence? I think not. Three, again, the holes. Both Captain Ernest and the dex report mention the various bodies of the dead pokemon on the S.S. Jane were killed due to being pierced by something. And here we read again about pokemon with holes on their bodies. And finally, four. Another pattern. The photos show that the mantine with remoraid attached to them have two large holes in their wings, while those with no fish have only one hole."
I scratched my nose, thinking. "So another game? Injure the mantine with remoraid twice, those without remoraid once? What are the stakes these times to failure? There's not enough information. But given the similarities between the S.S. Jane case and the Cherrygrove City one, I think it's safe to assume after Vermilion waters, this was where our suspect headed. Or swam. Since at this point, it's pretty clear we're dealing with a water type."
I put this time a blue pin near Cherrygrove City. "So, where did it swim after here? Listen to this, this one's six months after the incident in Cherrygrove," I began newly. "Small time fisherman family out on the shores of Olivine City lost to the wild. Huey Terell, a known corphish fisher, decided to take his wife, in-laws, daughter, and three boys out for a pleasant trip on the boat. An unexpected storm drifted their vessel too far out in the open, their boat got attacked by the wild and sank. The wife, daughter, and mother-in-law all survived the accident and were found passed out on the sandy beaches of Olivine, having no idea how they had gotten there. The rest of the family was later found by rangers, all dead."
"Now I know this doesn't look much," I said. "But hear me out: A few days ago, I called the coroner who had examined the bodies. He remembered the case, mainly because he had found it odd that all the victims' bodies had injuries as if pierced by a giant spear. According to him, there was no evidence of what weapon or pokemon caused this."
I pinned a blue pin on Olivine City. "I admit it's a thin thread, but the two main clues our culprit leaves behind are present: Hole shaped wounds and a pattern. This time the game was to kill the male members, and rescue, maybe save, the females? It obviously pulled all of the women in the family back to shore, even when there was a storm raging."
Sighing, I stood up, stretching my legs before continuing. "Last one. This is four months after Olivine and about a year back from today. Check it out: Randall Parker, a professional underwater photographer barely made it out alive from his last dive near the coasts of Cianwood City, but had the chance to record something extraordinary! During his dive, Randall says he ran into the largest shoal of carvanha he had ever seen and was sure the group of viciously dangerous pokemon would tear him apart. He then noticed the savage pokemon being otherwise occupied. 'I don't know how to describe it in words - watch the video I took,' Randall says. 'But it was like... I know my water pokemon okay? In this job you have to, so I noticed that the carvanha weren't feasting on me, because, well they were eating something, many things, else. An entire group of different water pokemon were marching, uhh, swimming right into the jaws of the carvanha group - as if something driving them into that specific location. What made me draw out my camera was that after my initial panic passed, I noticed only a certain species, only the huntail were being actively hunted - any other carvanha that tried to take a bite of the other pokemon, like the tentacool or gorebyss or goldeen, they, uhhh, died? I think? Or were stunned, I don't know, watch the video! I took a fourteen second clip, then hauled a**.' Click to watch Parker's video."
"Driving. That's a key word here," I explained. "We have point A in the sea, where a shoal of carvanha reside. No sane wild pokemon will willingly swim there. Then we have point B, where a large volume of mixed low level pokemon species live. Now seeing as the predators occupy point A and the prey point B, you would normally expect movement from A to B. But no, our witness says that the prey themselves are swimming towards their predators, movement in the opposite direction. The question is: Why?"
Hope looked so intently at me as if she understood everything I was saying. Chuckling, I pat her head. "Because there was something else out there, something that scared the prey more than the carvanha. This thing was goading these pokemon to a slaughter, but not all of them, no. It singles out one species as food for the carvanha, and any carvanha that doesn't obey and asks to bite something else is - here, check the video: You see that carvanha aiming for some tasty horsea? Just before it can get a bite - lemme slow it down - baam, something hits it, unrecognizable but for the blur it leaves behind."
I rubbed my temple. "Once again a game, you see? This time, it's like allowing your kid to only eat a specific letter from the alphabet soup and then stabbing him when he doesn't obey. A twisted game, but you can see the challenge, can't you? Stopping one of the most dangerous predators in the sea from obeying their own nature, making them comply to not the wild's, but its own rules."
I pinned the final blue pin on Cianwood City. "To sum up," I said. "We have four incidents where some sort of play is afoot; first on the S.S. Jane, and then near the waters of Cherrygrove, Olivine, and Cianwood. We also need to take notice of the time. First case: three years ago, lasts every forty-three days from Hoenn to Vermilion in Kanto. Then a year later we have our second case that we know of in Cherrygrove. Add another six months, Olivine. Four months more, Cianwood. See what I'm hinting at here?"
I picked up one of the sea charts that showed the underwater currents surrounding Indigo. "It's following the Seafoam Islands current," I answered my own question. "A ring current, following a path from the islands to the coasts of Fuchsia, Vermilion, New Bark, Cherrygrove, the south end of Johto, Olivine, Cianwood then back through the ocean to the islands. It took a year for our pokemon to reach Cherrygrove from Vermilion, six months to Olivine, and then four to Cianwood. That means this pokemon is not a fast swimmer, in fact it only follows the currents to help increase its movement speed! The only reason why it made the journey from Hoenn to Kanto in forty-three days was it somehow clung to the ship already sailing there."
"We're making real progress here," I muttered and Hope mewled her agreement. I pulled another map and grabbed my marker. "So, last year we know it was in Cianwood. That means right now, based on its movement speed and if it did not decide to jump another ship on the way, it has to be approximately somewhere between here." I drew a circle on my map. "Between the islands and Fuchsia, route K19."
"So let's prove it before we go in blind," I said as I took my dex in my hand. I typed in the official Rangers Association's website to check their monthly reports on that route. If there was any hint out there to this pokemon's location, I would find it.
But maybe tomorrow, today I had enough excitement with meeting the elders and whatnot. I would begin my research in the morning, fresh and rested.
Just then my pokedex pinged.
I checked it and read the title on my news feed. "In another incredible match, Pokemon Trainer Red wins in battle against Cerulean Leader Misty! Is there truly no one who can stop this rookie trainer?"
"Hope." I gritted my teeth. "Get ready to shock me if I fall asleep, it's going to take all night reading these reports."
))(())((
"A canoe. A fricking canoe," I muttered the first time I laid eyes on the vessel the boat rental shop owner saw fit for me.
"You're seventeen. No boat license. No badge. No surf permission. The fuck you expected?" was the owner's response.
And even though twenty days had passed since I first ported to Fuchsia to rent a boat, I still hated that guy with as much passion as the day I met him.
It would be a lie to say I wasn't at my limits, I was mentally and physically strained. My days were spent training Invictus on the sandy beaches of Fuchsia in swords dance, which he took a not so surprising liking to. I knew anything that could help him be a more efficient killer, he would do. He was also quite talented in it for a wild mon; according to the scrolls I had and the katas he was capable of performing now, he was half way finished in becoming a first dan swords dancer.
I still wasn't sure if it was wise to let an even stronger than before Invictus out in public areas, especially in this city where one in every ten trainer used poison types. Knowing full well Invictus would jump at any given chance to forcibly pump his blood venom, I always picked the quiet and remote spots on shore so we could train in peace. Still, there was this one time when he caught the scent of a passing trainer's vileplume, and Hope had to send at least twenty thunderbolts at him before he fell down paralyzed. If we could leave this town without Invictus committing murder, I would count myself extremely lucky.
Hope's own training was also going well. Aside from the special agility exercises I made her do, she now also had to go physical against Partner, my raticate. Partner was a good match for her; as Red's Pikachu had kindly demonstrated during the Nugget Tournament, Hope was weak against direct confrontations, and going up against an equally sized raticate would help her eventually build her strength to overcome this weakness. Of course, she would never be a physical match against anything larger, but my hopes were that with this training she wouldn't be as easily defeated by something her level like last time.
My days were passed with training, but my nights? Ohhhhh boy, my nights. Every night, on my small canoe, I would paddle myself further and further out on sea route K19. Every night, using the super rod that had cost me a fortune, I set baits. Every night, I would catch almost every water pokemon in existence except the one I was actually looking for. I spent every single night out on a small, crampy canoe, not even being able to bring out my pokemon because there was no room for them, and with only a single, dim flashlight preventing total darkness. Every night ended in disappointment, and that made the following day's training harder on me.
For the last twenty days, I slept only every three nights, and even then only two hours at most. To say nothing short, I was a mess. I didn't know how long I could continue like this, checking the entire water volume on this route for a single pokemon was no task any man could accomplish on his own. And despite the impossibility of the task, here I was tonight, again, out there alone on my rented canoe that was costing me more and more each passing day.
You're doing this all to prove you're not just a man. You're a champion.
That only comforted me the first twenty nights you said it inner voice. Shut the fuck up.
...
... I'm sorry, okay. I know you mean well. It's just... ugh. I'm tired, I haven't showered in days, my feet hurt, my arms hurt, and this is only the night, the next day I still have to worry if Vic will eat someone, so fuuuuck.
Hey, I got an idea. You know what would help? Shutting that radio app on your dex.
What? No way! It's the only thing that keeps me up at night, I don't wanna fall asleep and get eaten by a wild sea mon. My death will not be on this canoe!
I get you, but I think that's what making you cranky. It also gives you blood pressure.
...
Just saying.
My inner voice was once again actually right, like always, but I was too stubborn to listen. But I also spoke the truth, the radio was actually the only thing that helped distracted me from my need of sleep. That being said, it brought an extra problem with.
It made me fucking furious.
Because these days it seemed like anything, anyone on any show wanted to speak about, was Red. Who was he, what were his goals, where did his scars come from, these were all the questions that were on people's lips. I understood them, not every day a trainer as young as Red came along and won two badges in the first sixty days of his career and defeated a leader's ace in each of them.
But understanding them did not make me less angry.
Granted, I was currently not in a sound state of mind, shivering from cold, hungry, sleepless, arguing with my fictional inner voice, and-
Wait. Why was I cold? I was south of Fuchsia, even out on sea, the weather was supposed to be warm.
And just like that, the twenty days of exhaustion were wiped clean.
I gotcha you son of a bitch.
More excited and filled with hope for the first time, I shut my flashlight and took out my dex, leaving myself in dark except for the small piece of light emitted by my pokedex. Quietly rowing and always checking the pokedex's temperature function, I paddled in circles until I was sure I was at the lowest point my dex could register. Then I began setting up my bait; the body of a Kalos imported clauncher, a meal that was foreign and exquisitely delicious to the wild pokemon here. A true feast for the alpha predator.
And I was aiming for the alpha predator.
I cast my line and began to wait.
One minute passed. Nothing.
Five minutes. Nope.
"Come on you son of a bitch. I thought you liked playing games. Come on," I whispered to myself.
And after seven minutes and fifty-seven seconds, the line tugged.
With careful movements, I leaned back to the deck and planted my feet firm against the yoke. I took the super rod in both hands, its line running over my shoulder behind me.
The line tugged again. I let the spinning reel run, if this pokemon was half as smart as I suspected, right now it was only testing the line, I didn't want to alert the beast by beginning reeling it too early.
Not that I am aiming to reel it in at all.
As soon as I had that thought, the line felt loose. Any other pokemon, and I would suspect it got away. Not this one though. This one, well, the reason why the line went loose was not because it had escaped.
It was because it was on its way up to come meet me.
"I've spent an entire month on only trying to find you, to capture you, did you know that?" I muttered to myself. "One interview. Four cases. Enough for me to identify you."
I could feel the cold now more thoroughly. I grinned. "Almost there now, aren't you? I get it, it takes time to come all the way up. You are a sea bed pokemon after all. Slow swimmer, following underwater currents, that's right, you're too heavy to float. Deep deep down, that's where you live."
Even in the dark, I could actually see my breath, so cold was the temperature now. "It doesn't mean you don't like the surface though, does it? No, you love the surface. That's where most of the victims for your fun games live, don't they?"
I risked gently leaning over and looking down. I saw small amounts of bubbles rising. "And I bet I can guess your favorite game. It involves shooting, am I right? You shoot small spears from where you stand, that's how you hit the flying water pokemon, that's what leaves holes on the bodies. You shoot with incredible accuracy, pace, and speed, rapidly and in succession, enough to even kill a gyarados from afar."
"But wait, ah ha, that can't be it, I left no evidence behind? How do you know what I shoot?" I mimicked the imaginary voice of the pokemon. "That's what you're saying, right? You smug bastard. Here's my answer. Of course no ranger, no sailor could identify you, because what you shoot, it melts."
Was, was the water getting darker? Any time now. "Icicle spears. That's your weapon. And that's how I knew you were still lurking around these parts, ranger reports showed an ignorably small amount of cold sensitive species migrating, but that was enough for me to determine one single ice type was near where it shouldn't have been. You freeze the surrounding air or water and then project the spikes at a better rate than any member of your species. You are indeed a truly offensive monster, but I find it hard to believe that no other pokemon has avoided your attacks all this time. The sea is full of many Omega level threats, at least one of them must have gotten away from your sick games and attacked you."
"And even better, when you, the game master, lose, as punishment you willingly attack those stronger than you. Almost as if testing yourself. And after all this time, here you are, still alive." The water surface was in ripples now. "Which means you not only have extraordinary attacking prowess, you also have exceptional defense. Heh, I'd even say almost impenetrable defense."
"And that leaves no clue to what you are." I turned on my flashlight just at the moment the pokemon emerged. A large shape, almost as large as the canoe itself, was covered in a jagged, blue-violet shell with pointy horns on. The shell cracked open, allowing me to see a second, smaller shell with one large spike protruding between. Finally, that shell too opened and I came face to face with cold, calculating eyes on a black pearl.
"Hello darling." I grinned. The cloyster snarled back. I could see my line dangling freely from its mouth, hook caught in. "I'm afraid you're not getting free of that." I pointed my rod. "This here is a super rod; the line is ariados silk, stronger than steel, the grip is coated in sliggoo oil to prevent slipping, and the rod itself is marawok skull bone, it will bend but never break."
There was no way it could understand me, but it was a smart pokemon, and I could see it knew it couldn't break from this with brute force. I suspected the meaning behind its eyes was something other than escaping.
No, this cloyster, this monster was thinking if I was worthy of a game.
"There's only one thing we can play," I offered my assistance, knowing full well it was falling on deaf ears. "I mean, you could just kill me right now with one icicle, but that's no fun and no way to treat the possibly only human who's ever caught you before, am I right? After all, it's only because you were bored by your own strength that you decided inventing stupid rules for stupid games. So let's fucking play you crazy bastard, LET'S PLAY!" I yelled the last part, stunning it for moment.
I glared at it and shook the rod in my hand. "Pull."
And judging from the grin its scary looking face had, I guessed it understood.
As it dived deep, I thought on what I knew on the general biology of cloyster. The space between the two shells had the ability to compress and project air through small pores, meaning they had a built in projectile weaponry system. That was how they threw their ice darts at speeds unmeasurable, and that was also how they swam underwater. The same system simply projected water out and created a thrust force.
Now granted, compared to other water pokemon, they weren't the fastest swimmers, they lacked muscle and were too heavy. But they were durable and effective in swimming, and did not tire easily.
My line straightened, then strained. I felt the rod being pulled, so I gritted my teeth, planted my feet, and pulled back twice as hard. Slowly, unable to do otherwise, my canoe began moving in the direction the cloyster was swimming.
And that was the game this time. A game of endurance. Who would give up first? If it was him, I would catch him. If it was me, well, he probably would kill me.
The canoe began picking up speed, and I noticed with worry that the cloyster was going against the underwater current, away and outwards from Fuchsia City, which was not what I had hoped. On one hand, he would tire sooner, which was to my benefit. On the other hand, judging by the effectiveness of its ice darts, this cloyster was a fucking beast born with a one in a million projection system, so who the hell knew when it would tire. If I hadn't already dropped my rod by then, when it stopped swimming, I would probably be on unknown waters, far away from shore to be saved, and without resources, likely to starve to death.
Heh, heads I win, tails you lose. I like the way this cloyster thinks, I thought.
And as if everything was not against me already, I also had to deal with the fact that I hadn't had a decent meal or night's sleep for the last twenty days. The exhaustion was killing me, and my hand already began to tremble on the grip. The rod itself was putting pressure on my shoulder, hurting it.
I closed my eyes. I am not a man. I am a champion.
"Bring it on you son of a bitch," I screamed as my canoe flew on the water. "I am an Oak. I am Pokemon Trainer Blue, and I'm gonna old-man-and-the-sea you so fuck'n hard, you'll miss the days you were shooting gulls down from the sky, you psychotic fuuuuuuuuuck!"
And together, the cloyster and me, disappeared into the night.
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"-dehydrated, been missing for five day-"
The sound of rolling wheels.
"Take him to floor three, measure his bloo-"
"Look, look, he's getting consciou-"
Something soft carrying me.
"Son, can you hear me, son? What happened to him, rangers?"
"We only knew to search for him when his heracross attacked our base doc, kid left his pokemon behind. It trashed our base but we eventually got it and checked the owner, it came out as a Trainer Blu-"
Aw, so Vic does care.
"-hen next thing we know this jolteon comes in, growling and pulling the commander's sleeves and what do we know, it's also registered to a Trainer Blue. Command quickly decided the trainer was in trouble so after searchin-"
Bravo Hope baby, bravo.
Sound of elevator doors.
"-id he have anything on him?"
"Only a pokeball, nothing else."
"Okay we'll take it fro-"
No.
"You hear me son? You're going to make it."
Not only a pokeball.
"You're going to make it!"
His name is Argo.
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"When can I see them?"
"Son, you need to recover, it's only been three days and-"
"When can I see them?"
"... They're being held in the rangers' base. They tell me you can go and get them later, and that they're fine. Also that you're lucky to have pokemon who care so much, they literally saved your life by alerting us in time."
"But for now..." The doctor pushed me back into the hospital bed. "You will rest."
Sighing, I laid back, playing with the pokeball in my hand that contained Argo. I literally remembered nothing about our match, but the outcome and evidence were clear. My hands were all blistered, cut, and bruised. There was a giant purple spot covering my entire right shoulder. I had lost too much weight and looked slightly better than a skeleton.
But I had won - I remembered the moment the dead beat tired pokemon had emerged after a nonstop five days of tugging my canoe against current. And I barely remembered realizing it a male, naming him, and tapping him with a pokeball.
I didn't remember the part of passing out after.
Deep in thought, I almost didn't realize that my pokedex was ringing.
The name read "Gramps".
Shit.
Groaning from pain, I answered him, trying to sound cheerful. "Heya gramps, what's up?"
"..."
"Uh, gramps?"
"Are you well Garrett?" His voice sounded tired, and even, aww, worried.
"Don't insult me gramps, I'm blood," I tried speaking joyfully. "It takes more than a cruise to take down an Oak."
"I see. Very well then, I won't insult you more. But speaking of Oaks and cruises..." I could hear a chuckle in his voice, and honestly, him laughing scared me more than him worried.
"Do you mind explaining the bills in your name I am holding in my hand; multiple teleportation and flight transportations, broken glass in a bar fight, a twenty-day canoe rental, and one super rod? Also, while you are at it, mind explaining me why Elder Li of the Sprout Sages has been desperately trying to reach me, accusing you of stealing their most ancient secrets and demanding from me to do something about it?"
Shit. They found out. Fucking Nico must have spilled. "You know these spiritual types gramps, always seeing stuff where there ain't none." I at least tried lying.
This time I definitely heard laughter on the other end. "Okay then Garrett, I accept that, but do please cleverly explain the ridiculous amount of money you've spent."
"Uhhhhh... You know I haven't battled much so I haven't earned much, and without that income, I was just using what I already have," I said. But I didn't get it honestly, why did gramps sound like he was having fun?
"No, you were just using what the family had. Yes, you were allowed to withdraw money from that account in reasonable amounts, but what you've spent has far passed that. So, I'm cutting you off."
What? "What? Gramps, come on I am going to pay it all back!" I said, shocked.
"And when you do, I'll add your name back. For now, find some other method of income. Like your actual job. Battling. But I digress, we haven't even discussed your second punishment," he said with a playful tone.
"Since you've shown so much consideration in using the Oak name lately," he continued. Uh oh, he's talking about what I had to pull to meet the elders, I thought. "You should probably earn it. There's this cruise ship that sails from Vermilion, the S.S. Anne. They've sent me an invitation to join this year's party on board, alas, my old bones are too weak for travel, and it would be simply rude if people of our status, our name ignored an invitation. And since I cannot attend, then-"
"Aw hell no gramps," I protested. "You know I'm normally for parties and mingling, but I got a plan here, I got a schedule. Why can't Daisy go?"
"Because your sister earns her own keep without boasting her family name."
That shut me up. I groaned.
"The ship sails in eight days Garett. Don't be late."
I hung up the phone. I had only one thought in mind.
Frickn' Oaks.
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Author's Note:
Sorry for updating this six days later than promised. Stuff happened, and the story uploading bug fanfiction recently had didn't help.
About this chapter:
I suggest you open a map of Kanto and Johto on another tab while reading. If you check out how the cities are laid, the sea current thing and Sherlock Blue's detective skills will make more sense.
Elder Li, Chow, and Jin are all actually sages in the tower from the games. I made them elderly pokemon kung fu masters.
In the games, swords, dragon, and quiver dance are moves that increase a pokemon's stats twice, which I have always found overpowered as fuck (Anyone who claims otherwise has never faced a dd gyarados, sd scizor, or qd volcorana). Instead of one turn moves, I made them here special martial arts that needed years of training to master - which realistically makes more sense than suddenly getting buff.
In the Yellow games, Blue wields a cloyster if he has a jolteon. This does not mean all his pokemon will be from that team! Wait, I already made that point clear when I made him have a heracross from the fire red game. My bad.
And for those of you wondering if Blue threw out all the core preparations he made from his introduction, don't worry, read on! He has a plan (That's sorta his thing). But you are free to guess how he'll build a core from here, so far he has a jolteon, heracross, and cloyster in his main team, three left!
Next chapter: Delayed due to me screwing up this week, so let's say about the 12th of February, might take a day more.