Happy to see you all so frequently lately.

Plenty of progress with writing, mostly because of the inspiration I've had for a while now. This is what happens when I have it and plenty of free time; the writing fluently comes to my mind. I love it!

I'm seriously considering revising the first chapters. I only skimmed through Chapter 1 yesterday and...Wow. I wanted to rip it to pieces. XD And to think that poorly written thing is the first chapter that readers see! Not only that, but chapter two is filled with old, inaccurate information (Suicune DNA...? What? It's not totally incorrect, but a little off.). Chapter three and so on might need random editing, but I digress.

Hope you enjoy this chapter!

Chapter 39
The Brewing Storm

The bathroom's ceiling vent rumbled and began to drone, dissolving the drifting steam. Marina finished combing her damp blue hair. She wore a small smile when the fog in the mirror cleared. Gently, she placed the brush on the counter and looked at her reflection.

The jet-black choker hugged her neck, disturbing her innocent appearance. Most of the day, it hid underneath the collar of her shirt. Seeing as that rendered her wearing it pointless, she had tried to take if off but the rose clasp failed to release. In a successful attempt to pacify her brief panic, she assured herself that she would try again another day.

"Hm," she murmured. She leaned close to the mirror, concentrating only on her irises. They were certainly green, a brilliant evergreen shade at that.

"They were red back then..."

Last Friday, she concluded in her mind. I could've sworn that they were...even Bugsy—.

"But that wasn't Bugsy at all," Marina said quietly so as no one could hear her. "It was..."

Latios...

The Pokémon knew her, and she knew him before he disguised himself as the Gym Leader of Azalea Town. Though she could not remember having him in Pokémon form, he seemed to have the answers to all her questions—and he would have given them to her had she not refused it. He did not answer his phone, no matter how much she called. She somewhat regretted the decision she had made at the time, wondering just how much less confused she would be if she had accepted. She was fearful and ran away from the issues, but now she was beginning to desire some closure. If they ever crossed paths again, she would have plenty to talk to him about.

But for now, she had to continue her journey as normally as she could—if she could.

Marina's eyes shifted downward, and her mirror image mimicked the solemn motion. She gazed at the lavender bandana, which she had folded neatly next to her. For some time, she stayed very still. Her fingers groped the cloth with a gentle touch, and she narrowed her eyes briefly. Her mind pulled forth the vague image of the powerful sword she had held—and the scythe-like zephyrs produced by it.

Marina frowned and let her arm pull away. She could barely recall the incident at Lake Alph any longer. It used to be crisp, with every detail laid out for her to return to, unpleasant as it was. But now the battle she had waged with her Lapras was a confusing collage of blurs. Reason explained that what she went through was intense and traumatic, thus causing this scary slip in recollection.

She knew that the incident had happened, and that fact would never go away.

The actions she had taken were not hers; that much she could guess. Though she had been rescued by whatever it was, it was that same brilliant power turned on her best friend. She could still clearly remember the disbelief on his face when she had finally regained control.

The girl shook her head and slammed her hands on the counter; having the room for herself that particular night, she was more than happy to make a little noise without consequence.

"Chris is right; I still don't know anything about what really happened. Thinking about it only makes me even more worried. And Bugsy—I mean Latios said that it wasn't my fault." She clenched her hands.

"But..."

With a final sigh, Marina tried to smile at herself in the mirror. The false effort could be seen through with ease. She ignored this and started for the door, but slowly came to a stop. She looked over her shoulder, eyeing her cherished bandana. She grasped her longer bangs between her fingers, looking at it solemnly.

"I really hope you're okay, Kenta," she softly whispered. She turned away and left the bathroom.

Settled on the desk of her room were Amber and King, who jumped with a start as their Trainer walked toward them. Amber wore a heavy frown that disappeared when she spotted Marina, waving her little arms in her direction. Without a care of the Quilava that looked at her in slight disbelief, the Pokémon bounced and wriggled her soft red rabbit ears.

"Plasupla!"

"Hello, Amber," Marina greeted and patted her head.

"I can't believe this little critter, Marina," her Quilava spoke. The white collar that enabled him to speak was fastened around his neck, reciting the translation. Yet it was softer and harder to comprehend over King's real voice, more so than its predecessor was.

The girl turned to him. "Looks like that one's going to break too, isn't it?"

"As long as it—dieselittunafusewibellsprout-like last time, then I'm fine," King groaned.

"Eheh. I'll miss being able to talk to you so easily though." Marina moved her hand away from Amber to pet King's crimson-gold fur. The Pokémon nodded in agreement, closing his eyes.

"We'll deal." His eyelids opened only a sliver and looked at the baby Pokémon, who was shooting him a childish glower. He made a disgruntled snort.

"Plaaasu!" Not making eye contact with him or her Trainer, Amber kicked her little feet and looked at the lamp.

"What's going on?" Puzzled, Marina stood up straight and looked at both of her Pokémon with her hands held behind her.

The Quilava snorted again without comment. A second later, he turned to her attentively. "Hey, I talked to Misdreavus."

"What did Muu-chan say?" Marina asked as she pulled out the desk's rolling chair and descended into it comfortably.

"What?" King looked at her questioningly.

"I'm trying to think of a nickname for her," she responded. "She said 'muu' a lot in the last gym battle, and I think she was playing."

"Magu," he grunted and lazily rolled on his side. "Anyhow, Mew-chan," his collar attempted to say his teammate's new name, "told me that she fought because of Prince's determination. Also, Gengar was a—rudebegabigaprix."

Marina smiled, tilted her head thoughtfully, and sat back in her chair.

So that's why she listened? She wanted to help Prince win and gain his honor again, even if she had to sacrifice herself to make it easier. Opening her mouth, she covered it with her hand as she let out a silent yawn.

"But y'know," the alternate-colored Quilava had to pause to copy her, "she did say something about you."

"Really?" In her maintained interest, Marina sleepily turned in her chair to look at him.

"She said that you're a nice Trainer."

"I hope that means she'll listen to me from now on," she replied with a grin. "She's adorable and I'd like to use her more often. Once the others reach her level, I mean."

"It should. I don't like drama."

For some time, it was silent aside from the faint ticking sound from the clock at the edge of the wooden desk. King watched as Marina's eyes closed with her head nodding a bit. He chuckled as she snapped awake.

"Ha ha, you're sleepy."

"Yup." Marina giggled a little.

"Plaaaaaaa..." The two turned to the other side of the desk as they heard the drawn-out sound that continued. Amber sat, yawning with her head facing the ceiling. As she finished, she bowed her little head and rubbed her eyes. There was more silence, and Amber turned to them.

"Dang," King said, "You're a weird critter, yawning—longertrudwaildid."

Amber pointed at him angrily, much to the ermine's playful sneer. "Plas! Plasu plaplusu!" When she stopped her squeak-filled retorts, she glared with drowsy irritation. She closed her eyes, smiling as Marina stroked her head gently. Marina turned to her and held her little body in her arms, tenderly carrying and the little Pokémon.

"You need to go to sleep too," she said. Without a fuss, Amber cuddled close to Marina's chest and closed her eyes. Her small figure slowly relaxed as she soon drifted off to sleep.

"Like a baby."

"Shh," Marina hushed as she quietly recalled the little creature into its new Poké Ball. She then reached for the Quilava's, which rested next to the lamp. "It's time for bed. We're going to set off again tomorrow, so we'll need rest too."

King watched as his trainer grasped the little red and white ball. He softly whined, "Can I please, please, please sleep in the bed, just this once? Preferably on the pillow."

"Nope, not this time," she said and unbuckled the high-tech collar.

"Magu," King responded somewhat in feigned annoyance. His head bobbed sleepily as he pressed the button on his Poké Ball and slipped into the metal sphere.

Marina was sure to handle the two Poké Balls with care as she attached them to her belt, which rested on the bedpost. Her hand reached for the light fixture and held the beaded switch. With a click, her surroundings fell to the darkness that yielded only to the shimmering moon outside.

With a sleepy yawn, she curled into her blankets and gradually fell asleep.

The same apathetic moon shimmered over a port city southwest of Ecruteak. Uncoordinated sea winds whistled between the crammed alleyways. Below the docks and boats, the ocean rolled up against them. At times, the water even crashed over onto the streets bordering it, retreating as much as it could before bashing again into the cement.

The broken waves sprinkled over the teenager's cloak and spiky blond hair, causing him to turn to the sea. He looked out into the disturbed body of water which contained the oncoming tropical storm. Or was it a hurricane? The boy should have kept track of it, as it affected when he would leave for Cianwood Island and, ultimately, Cianwood City's pharmacy. He did not act like it, but he was stubborn to stick to his mission; so he arrived too early despite the hindrances that came his way. His ride obviously hadn't come yet, and he had been waiting for several hours. He did not mind this—for now—because the city and its vast ocean were novel and refreshing sights to him.

He noted, optimistically, that even if his ride didn't arrive, his target would have to enter the city eventually. Olivine City had a Pokémon Gym, just like Cianwood. In that case, it would make his mission easier, avoiding the tedious water travel. He would return home quickly with his target, making for a swift job well done. A little improvising never hurt anyone, most of the time.

Of course, it won't be that easy, he thought dryly.

He didn't speak as he walked down the boulevard at an even pace. In a restaurant nearby, he could hear loud music, incessant chattering, and drunken cheers: it was a hurricane party. The idea made little sense to him, but he shrugged and continued his nighttime walk.

When the teenage boy walked past a seaside pub, he stopped. Just ahead was the small beach that was now empty. He ran his fingers through his light, dirty blond hair as he recalled how much more populated the city was said to be. But many were smart to evacuate the city, fleeing to Ecruteak, Goldenrod or other farther away towns safer from the path of the tropical storm.

His eyes shifted to the rowdy bar when the sound of glass shattered from within. There was a shuffle followed soon after by a mixture of hoarse laughter and applause. The boy smirked, familiar with this kind of behavior back in his home region.

"The storm should clean them out," he said as he turned around. Exploring Olivine was far more entertaining than standing in the middle of the sand. He had seen sand all his life and would continue to view it as long as he lived. For now, he would satisfy his curiosity of the superbly clean harbor city.

He heard persistent footsteps behind him. Panic and paranoia failed to affect him, even though he did consider the possibility that he was being followed. In the document he received from his boss, it did mention some rather "well-informed" opposition. Feigning innocence, he ignored the footsteps until his pursuer called him out.

"Hey you. Wait up a sec."

He paused. He looked over his shoulder, his expression hinting a grave confidence. A Pokémon Trainer eyed him in a similar manner. Even though the blond was older, the black-haired boy was almost as tall as he was, perhaps at even if they were put back-to-back.

"You," he began, "You're Keel, right?"

The kid obviously wasn't of the normal kind. People off the streets of Orre knew the blond boy as Wes, which was his real name. Only a...select few knew about the alias Keel. He was puzzled, as only that select few had sent out the mission. It made sense when he finally recognized his face.

What an interesting breed of "well-informed"; kind of an understatement, really.

"Suppose I am," Wes responded, "What does it have to do with you?"

There was a hesitant pause. "A lot, depending on what you're here for."

"Oh?" Wes's expression failed to change. He was curious how far he could push him.

"What…" Another pause came from the other boy. His sapphire blue eyes grew dark with suspicion. "What would someone from Orre be doing here?"

"I don't get your catch." Wes continued to utter quick responses, speaking coolly as soon as the Pokémon Trainer finished.

"Don't play dumb," the younger boy growled. "How come you suddenly left to work at some random pharmacy on the southernmost part of Johto?"

"That really doesn't involve you," Wes pointed out, "I have business to take care of."

The two, for some time, exchanged stares. Neither moved nor turned away despite the pub erupting in slurred cheering soon after a fast-beat rock song began to erupt from it. Then the black-haired boy sighed and slipped his hands from his jacket pockets.

"What would that business be?" he asked.

"It's confidential." Wes dared to look away, aloof. "So I prefer not to tell you."

So he knew about "Keel", but not the mission? Wes pondered this. He slipped the speculation away, deeming it interesting—funny, even—but unimportant, and decided to take advantage of his ignorance.

With a scowl, the boy raised his voice. "Go back home."

"Why is that?"

"You shouldn't be here. Nothing good ever comes from that place."

"Sure it does. Orre's major export is minerals. The people are rough, but I won't cause trouble."

"Then why are you here?"

"Life takes unexpected turns. "

"Just who told you to come?"

"Myself."

"What were you told to do?"

"That's private. This is my business, not yours."

"If it involves my family, it is my business."

"Is that so?" The blond shifted his yellow eyes toward him with a calm smile.

The other Trainer snapped, "Stop toying with me! Do you even know who I am?!"

"Chris Shimizu, champion of the previous Johto Regional Tournament, and placed tenth for this year's Indigo League in Kanto."

The teenager froze on the spot.

Wes kept the dry smirk on his face. "I'm a 'foreigner', but I have my facts straight."

Chris glanced warily at him, grasping one of his Poké Balls from within his jacket. "That doesn't matter. Thing is, I know who you work for. I only want to know why you're here."

"I'm on a mission," responded Wes honestly. He watched the gesture with a slight caution. A battle would draw attention, and keeping a low profile was vital. He must stay unnoticed so he would be impossible to track once he left Johto.

"What for?"

"..." For the first time, the blond fifteen-year old failed to respond promptly.

"If you don't tell me, you'll regret it," Chris warned.

Again Wes was silent, his eyes sternly locked with the other Trainer's. Then with a sneer, he broke away and looked out into the sea. An irritated Chris clutched his Poké Ball, prepared to force the information out of the boy. Wes noticed this, but kept his cool and instead decided to trek a different route.

"You give me no choice now. If I don't tell you, you'll put me through hell just because I didn't tell you. Yet if I do as you say and return to Orre, both Snagem and Cipher—," the latter word made Chris's shoulders freeze immediately, "—would kick my ass."

Wes looked at him, unreadable. "I'd much rather be cross with you than them. So I'm not talking."

Chris failed to move, drinking in the response. Eventually he relaxed a little, his eyes shifting downward, deep in thought before looking up again.

"I know. Cipher isn't something you'd want to piss off," he said.

"Exactly."

Chris muttered something to himself.

Wes waited a few more moments before asking, "So, you satisfied? I'd like to explore Olivine like the tourist I am."

"No," Chris responded stubbornly, "I still want to know why you're here."

"I gave you your answer: you won't find out." Wes ran his fingers through his hair again, self-assured. He flicked his hand as if to shrug. "Even if it did involve your family. Maybe you can introduce me to them."

Chris barked, "Bastard! I've had it with you!" He pulled out the Poké Ball from his black coat, clutching it in his quick temper. "If you won't tell me, then I'll beat it out of you!"

Wes frowned, having not anticipated the sudden outburst. Calm yet swift, he retrieved the containers for his own Pokémon and narrowed his eyes combatively.

"So be it, Regional Champion," he said.

They began to back away from one another. Worst-case scenario—Chris, with his resources, would know about Cianwood's pharmacy and keep a close eye on Wes. Taking Chris' personality and obliviousness into consideration, Wes began to spin a well-rounded lie. His pride disliked the idea of losing the fight against Chris. But the Pokémon battle would help him stall for time.

"What a beautiful night!"

Both boys turned with a start. A woman looked down on them from her perch, the highest peak of a sea cabin beside the pub. She raised her arm from her dark violet cloak into the sky. Her ice-like hair was fair, almost glowing in the moonlight.

"Wonderful evening, is it not?" she merrily announced over the noise of the pub.

Letting his guard down a little, Chris looked at her, surprised. "Cilice? What are you even…?"

Wes eyed Cilice strangely. Who was this posh woman, and why was she on the roof of some random house?

Cilice gazed at the teenage boys with her crimson eyes. A breath of cold wind breezed through the streets, carrying Cilice's beautiful long hair. "I can feel the northern wind creating quite a fuss," she smiled. "The embodiment of the north wind must be among us."

Wes couldn't help but ask. "Is she drunk?"

"…I don't know," Chris responded after a delay. "I really don't."

"Probably yes."

"Now…" Cilice eyed Chris, evaluative. "There's no need for you to fuss, Chris. I don't know why you're distressed. Presuming he's suspicious merely because of his place of origin is something to be frowned upon.

"Unless you have something you'd like to share with me?"

Chris locked his jaw shut and refused to reply.

Cilice sighed a little, as though frustrated at his silence. Wes watched them with slight bafflement. He turned to Chris with a serious expression.

"The woman's right. That's what I've been trying to tell you all along, Chris Shimizu. You wouldn't believe me, so I couldn't help but mock you. It's a bad character trait of mine, something gained from my years in the desert. I'm sorry if I pushed you too far."

After some time, Chris turned to the blond haired teenager, his suspicious glare falling.

"Okay then," he finally said. "I'll back off."

Wes hid a sneer behind his façade; the boy fell for his quip with amazing ease.

Chris exhaled heavily and threw a black and yellow Poké Ball beside him, catching it as a large lizard appeared in an explosion of short-lived sparkles. Its dragon-like body stood tall over them, wings spreading to reveal the dark teal wingspan underneath. Chris approached, and it solemnly bowed low so as to let him ride on its back.

"Keel," he addressed, "Whatever your mission is, I don't really care. You're right, it's your business. But—." He paused to climb on his Charizard's back and looked Wes in the eye.

The blond blinked when he saw the vulnerability in his somber expression.

"Don't screw with my family," Chris finished. Gusts pounded the area as the large fire-wielding dragon took flight. Like a jet, they shot into the night and out of Wes's sight.

Wes stood unmoving, tending to his hair which had flung about wildly. He preferred it a certain way—even if it looked untamed, there was a basic style he aimed for. Curious, he turned to the sea cabin's roof.

The mystifying lady was no longer there, gone without a single trace.

"Oh, what the hell." His face betrayed his previous collected expression and he turned away, again facing the ocean.

Wes stayed there for some time. He grew profound in his thoughts, letting his hair fall askew again under the salty wind's grasp. It was a strange visit he underwent, and with the weirdest people he had met in Johto so far—insanity was certainly universal. But it helped waste some of time, at least. He let out a little grunt as he pondered.

Relative of Chris Shimizu...

Then, in the quietest voice he could use to prevent being overheard, Wes whispered a name.

"Marina Shimizu..."

Wes made a pitying smirk. He tilted his head upward into the sky, at the large clouds that lingered in the far edge of the horizon. He yielded a laugh.

"Sorry, Chris. Looks like I really will have to screw with your family."

So, this chapter is finished and so has Ecruteak, with events unknown to Marina stirring in the background. Though we'll see Ecruteak City again sometime in the future.

Ah, I'm tired. I pace in my room far too much lately, brainstorming. It's the only form of exercise I get, usually. XD With summer vacation coming up so soon, I can only imagine how much more time I'll have to do that and write...ah, the possibilities.

Hope to see you again, my dear readers!