Yellow did not see Lancelot for two days. Luckily, the constant bombardment of Team Rocket's teachings replaced her guilt.

"If you keep scratching your letters out like that, I'm going to tie the pencil to your hand until you get it right." Prima threatened, thumbing through her assignment. "I can't read it. Go to the board and practice until I tire of watching you."

It cramped her hand for hours afterwards, even during Pokemon training. But now Yellow was facing an unique problem: her refusal to watch Pokemon battles.

Not that Yellow was afraid of them. She didn't want to see Pokemon get hurt or hear their painful cries. The traumatized creatures filled her brain every day. Not seeing their physical torment lessened the anguish.

So the recruit thought it was a fair trade to have her back turned when her assigned Pokemon was battling. Yellow was still present. Still involved. But not encouraging the behaviors. Yet, her failure to see the ongoings made her lose within minutes.

It was why they moved her to the bottom rung of training, where even the freshest lackeys snarked at going. Facing off against holograms—weak ones, at that. Yet, Yellow got crushed as one could expect.

Luka had enough of her nonconformist and peace-loving attitude. Out of all Team Rocket, he had the anxious hippie-slash-beatnik to train, and Luka did not enjoy that one bit.

"If you do not turn around and face your opponent, I will make sure you regret ever stepping foot here." He towered over her, droplets of spit hitting the top of her head from his threat. "Watch me."

Yellow eyed the trainer as her shoulders slumped. "I'm sorry."

"You're not sorry, because you'd obey otherwise." He called her out, grabbing her body and flipping her around to the paused hologram of Nidoran squaring off against a Rattata. "Do it."

Her fingers twisted into her gloves. "Nidoran. Uhm. Tackle."

Yellow shut her eyes, and she ducked her head into her arms. Emulated sounds of battle bounced off her skull and into her brain, causing panic to swell. Yellow had hurt a Pokemon. A fake one, but still one that she could identify with.

Without warning, Yellow felt a hair yank on her ponytail. She cried out, jerking her head back upwards to see the Nidoran get struck with another move.

"I don't have time for this." Luka admonished, turning off the simulation. "You want to be insubordinate? Fine. Ariana will take care of you."

Yellow was sorry. Very sorry to hear she was in for it now. "Please! Don't! I'm f-failing a lot and-and…"

"That's not my problem." He tapped a few buttons. "I've given you enough chances. Ariana will be here tomorrow to fix this. I suggest you fix whatever problem you're having."

Her stomach dropped. Ariana expressed disappointment in her constant failures already before the first week ended. Forcing her to come in and punish the child would aggravate the Executive further.

Luka shoved a training manual in her face for overnight work before he threw Yellow out.

x

"Maybe I could keep my eyes closed…"

Yellow knew it was useless to find loopholes in their rules. They had an expectation and anything that deviated would be unacceptable. Faulting her for considering other options, even if those options would never come to fruition, would be unfair.

A stack of books weighed down her body and thoughts, forcing her gait to become slow and distracted. The perfect target for shadowy hunters who laid in wait for an opportunity.

One snort drew Yellow's attention. In seconds, two Pokemon cornered her in the hallway and their acidic breath played on her pale cheeks. All she could focus on was the shiny, sharp teeth, scaring the loudest cry from her throat.

Soft paws against the floor, circling her. Growls from a deep, hungry belly, sending shivers across Yellow's back. Long, slender, dark fur bodies with bony exteriors framing their elegant, vicious appearance. Tails that seemed to go on forever, whipping around the air with a small crack.

It was the curve of the horn that reminded her of her training manual. Houndooms. The same ones who accosted her in the burning forest.

Now in the light, Yellow could see one Houndoom was larger than the other. Bigger horns too. But the smaller one was working in tandem, like they were scouting or backing up if need be.

These were the first Pokemon that Yellow had seen outside the training room. Who did they belong to?

"It's the little runt." The Houndoom said, circling Yellow. "So Master had a use for you. I wondered why it smelled so pathetic."

Yellow's fear overtook her. All the fire events trudged up in her mind. ChuChu. The snap. All the pain and howling. Her feet shook in her boots as she tightened her embrace on the books, wondering if it was useless to outrun them. Rigid breaths held in her chest as her vision tilted sideways, making her lock her knees to keep upright.

Who knows what these monsters would do to her next if she fainted?

"I... what are you doing here? Pokemon can't be here." Yellow's mind fizzled with confusion.

"Master lets us roam to find little scraps like you to eat." A throaty bark from the bigger one, as if they were cackling. "You're the first one we found. Unlucky you."

Her fingers grasped the books. Could Yellow throw them and run away? Of course, it would piss her tutor off if she destroyed the books in an attempt of self-defense. Thwarting cruel canine Pokemon would not fly as an excuse.

"Leave me alone."

"Why?"

Good question. "Because I didn't do anything to you."

"You don't have to do anything to become an excellent dinner, runt."

Yellow couldn't fathom being a meal in the endless stomach of the Houndooms. Much like, she suspected, ChuChu could have been. Sickness washed over her, thinking of her old friend at the teeth and jaws of monsters as she watched...

"Oh, Enma. Look at her. She's scared." The smaller canine snickered. "Maybe she has another Pikachu for us to eat. Should we check her pockets?"

A snap of the jaws right at Yellow's heels and skirt, making her jump. More cackling, peppered with psyche-out bites to keep her on her toes. Fury and embarrassment from Pokemon bullying made the child boil in her skin.

"I said leave me alone!" Yellow demanded, her heart pounding in her ears. "You nasty animals! I have met no Pokemon so hateful as you! Leave me alone! Leave me alone!"

"Nasty?" Enma snarled, sticking his nose in her terrified face, "I am Master's signature Houndoom. You are nothing. I've wiped dirt from my paws that had more value. No little runt calls me a nasty animal and gets away with it."

The long tail whipped at her, making her stumble. A sudden head-butt to her shoulders. Yellow could feel the hard horns bruise her spine, making her yelp in pain as tears threatened to come.

"I'll tell Madame Ariana!" She tried the only defense she could think of. But instead of fear, the pair laughed as they did a fake pounce to freeze in place. Yellow drowned in fear, feeling right back in her burning forest memories.

"Oh, she's going to tell, Fulor! She's going to tell!"

"Whatever shall we do if she tattles on us?"

"I don't think she can snitch if she's in three pieces."

Long, stretched grins, letting acidic saliva drop to the floor and scorch the hard metal. Hunger was the motivation, fueled by pure sadism and desire for power. Yellow could not read any trace of goodness or empathy, a trait she had never encountered in Pokemon.

Were there Pokemon that existed wholly in evil? Existing as malicious keepers of children instead of benevolent friends? Her mind now trampled, Yellow awaited the sinking of teeth.

"Knock it off, Enma."

Yellow blinked back into reality, unraveling the scene before her.

Lancelot was staring down at the massive dogs, not giving them an inch to feed on. No fear or recoil was present in his unwavering stare, ready to fight tooth-to-tooth. There was no quarter for disobedient, superiority complex Pokemon in his stance.

It would take a second for the dog to snatch up the child—less, if the Houndoom was feeling confident. Lancelot was shorter and edged up on the monster's snout, breaking eye-level. But, something bigger than them was keeping the Pokemon from attacking right away.

"Leave her alone." Lancelot said. "Master Archer said you can't talk to us when we're working. You don't want me to tell him you're choosing to ignore his orders. Do you?"

Emna huffed. "I do not take orders from a servant boy. You have not reached Master's status for me to fear you. Or believe you. It will be an icy day in the depths of hell for me to follow your orders."

"I'll remember that next time you have a broken leg, Emna." Lancelot shot back, seeing the dog glare. "Unless you want Master Archer's special remedy. I might be too busy with someone else to keep you useful. Or say that you're too far gone for me to heal. What's one more Houndour for Master Archer to raise?"

The apprentice's threat didn't take long. The smaller Houndoom cracked first and bowed her down to back out of the fight. Enma shifted his posture, putting his weight on his back paws in response to flight.

"Fine, servant boy. I have no appetite for silly children now." Over-confident statement for a resounding defeat. "Bastard child. Kind of Master to take such a mangy babe into his care. He's gotten rid of better for less."

Lancelot didn't take his bait. "He'll get rid of you long before he gets rid of me, Enma."

The Pokemon snarled low, but whipped his head to motion to his partner. As the Pokemon pair strode away, Lancelot sighed. His face dropped back to an exasperated expression, as if this was getting old.

Yellow was in awe of his courage, astounded that he bested the ravenous beasts with only his words. Her face shimmered, wondering if it was possible to learn such a skill.

"How did you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Do...do that! Make them go away! I tried everything and they…"

Lancelot took another look down the path that the Houndooms left. "They smell fear. If they smell fear, they'll take you down. All they can do is rattle you; if they did something, Master Archer would lose it."

"Lose…?" Yellow echoed, her finger twisted around her ponytail again.

"His temper. His mind. Master Archer hates it when Pokemon are disobedient." Lancelot said, hesitant to elaborate. "You don't want the Masters mad. They have... high standards and expectations."

Yellow knew that he was an expert on these matters and dropped it. Ignorance can be bliss—this was one of them. She shifted her books again, watching Lancelot take another look down the hallway. Suspicion at the earlier statement made her wonder if the boy got rattled after all.

"Is bastard a bad word?" Yellow asked, watching the expression falter.

"For us." Lancelot replied. "It's true otherwise."

"Is that…?"

"I don't know. I guess. Yes. It is."

Yellow didn't know why she agreed—still no clue what it meant—but Lancelot was withdrawing back into his shell. She didn't want to give up or give into the Rocket's stoicism.

"I think you're brave!" She proclaimed, forcing her bright tone down his throat. "You're like...a brave hero! You rescued me!"

Lancelot rolled his eyes, avoiding her trap. "I'm not a hero. I'm Master Archer's apprentice and student."

"No!" Yellow wouldn't give up, not for all the fun in the world. "You rescued me! I was...was...in trouble! And you saved me! You're like a brave knight who rescues pretty girls! Uncle Wilton gave me books about them!"

Now he was more upset than he was before. "Stop that. Stop saying those dumb things. I'm not a hero. I'm not a knight. If you keep talking like that, you're going to get into trouble. Or I'm going to punch you."

Bit of a gamble, but Yellow pressed on. "C'mon! Hey! Pretty girls kiss the heroes! I can give you a kiss!"

"If you kiss me, I will knock your teeth out."

"Okay, but I'm not gonna drop it until you admit I'm right!" She teased, now armed with her own threats. A big smile erupted on her face as Lancelot took a moment to relent to her incessant demands.

"Fine. Okay. I helped you. Good enough?" He countered. "And don't kiss me. Boys and girls aren't supposed to fraternize. I could get into trouble for helping you now."

A shrug. "I don't know what that means."

"Of course you don't."

Lancelot headed off, making Yellow reach out to grab him. He froze, rendered useless as she tugged at his sleeve.

"Can you walk me back? Please? What if they come back?" Yellow asked, attempting to cover up her fear. Her fingers dug into the fabric, feeling the skin sink under the nails.

Lancelot ripped his arm from her, taking the scratches without complaining. He gestured, motioning her to follow along.

"I can't do this all the time. So you better grow a spine. I'm only doing this because Team Rocket didn't bring you here to be attacked by Pokemon." He lambasted her, focused on the task at hand. "I'm not your hero, and I'm not your bodyguard. You're going to have to be that for yourself."

Yellow nodded. Caring for others was a weakness here; a whisper of kindness could destroy a reputation.

After a minute of fast-walking, she tried to compliment him again.

"You're really good at—"

"Shut up. Walk faster."

Dismayed, Yellow scowled into her book stack. Maybe Lancelot had never heard a compliment before. She tried to think of a way to weave it into their conversation, but Lancelot pointed to their hallway.

"There. Go." His order was harsher. "Don't bother me again."

"What if the Houndooms were waiting for me at my door?"

"They're not."

"How do you know?"

Lancelot glared. "I just know."

"Okay, but how do you know? Can you hear them from this far away?"

"Yeah. I can."

Yellow tilted her head down the hallway as Lancelot turned to leave. She listened, trying to catch the sounds of a stealthy canine lurking in the shadows. Realization swept over her before Yellow whirled around to face his back.

"You lied!" She accused, stomping her foot. "You liar!"

"So? I'm still right."

Smack! She threw Her Pokemon manual at the back of his head, plodding off to the side as he turned around. Storming towards her, Lancelot grabbed her arm and jerked her off her feet. In seconds, Yellow understood the extent of the boy's restraint on his temper.

And why she shouldn't pick fights with people bigger than her.

"Don't throw things at me." A growl brewing a fire in his tone. "Or I will hurt you."

"Don't lie to me." Yellow felt her breath catch in her throat. She could see his other fist ball up, ready to smack her across the face. Every ounce of strength the recruit had was to force back tears, so it wouldn't be worse than it was.

Lancelot tightened his grip long enough to come down from his anger before releasing her. He let Yellow compose herself and pick up her book before going down the hallway.

"Well?" You complained, now you don't want to come?"

Now the child's grateful curiosity had piqued. Lancelot didn't appear to enjoy hitting people or Pokemon, even at the height of his rage. He wasn't resorting to the same tactics, relying on intimidation and words to get his point across.

Yellow was taking him for granted.

"Thank you for not…" She trailed off, picking up the pace again. "Um. Hitting me."

"You're welcome." A gruff, more receptive to her submission.

"You don't...like the others."

"I don't like being hit."

"Do you get hit a lot?"

"Yeah."

"Am I going to get hit a lot?"

"Yeah. You are."

Silence as her door came into view. Yellow dreaded the days of getting struck with whatever Team Rocket felt necessary. There were no wounds on Lancelot, but the Executives knew how to hurt.

"I don't want to be hit." She whispered, hoping Mother Forest could hear that one. If one word could reach the guardian forest, then the spirits could keep her safe. Silly, still believing that mysticism and motherly love could protect her here.

Her peer was solid in his belief. "That's how we have to learn."

"Learn to do what?"

"To be Team Rocket's tools. The best tools, the greatest assets, and to extend Team Rocket's reach beyond the stars."

Yellow stopped at her door, feeling exhausted by the conversation. Live, breathe, and die from this tiredness.

Before she opened the door, Lancelot's call shocked her back into reality. "Hey!"

Yellow looked back, seeing him stiffen his posture as if he was giving her a greeting goodbye. He bowed a few inches at the waist, keeping his head down in a perfect and elegant maneuver of humbleness.

"I won't ever hit you." Soft. Escaping notice of ears pressed to the ground.

With that, Lancelot left for good.

Yellow didn't comprehend it until her tutor slapped her in the back of the head for writing the letter "M" wrong.

But it was good to know someone here was warming up to her.