Ascension

ACT TWO - DUST OF DREAMS

Chapter 5 - Pewter Gym, at Last!

"They know you are special."

Growlithe was currently running. He had been running all morning now, and even during moments when he took a break, he was still walking. And while physically exhausting, it gave him a lot of time to think.

He didn't know why things kept taking such obscure turns with him, but he certainly didn't enjoy them. He had no clue who took him to the lab, or what caused his life to be filled with such bizarre eccentricities. On that front, all he knew was that if he ever found them he would have words for them.

Words that would end with a lot of pain.

"I tried very hard. But they have your blood sample and want to take you in for experimentation. The old man gave me another option but I'm not sure you'll like it."

He knew that choosing to stay back was a bad idea. He'd have been better off if he had just escaped the moment he had gotten up.

But nooo!

He just had to get carried away by the human's kind words and his aid in healing him. Fat lot of good that did him. Just look where that landed him.

Curse his stupid growlithe instincts.

"If you agree, I can take you with me. Um…. it's kind of like a contract. You'll get food and medicine and everything you need really. And you'll be free. Well… kind of free. You'd still have to stay with me but you'd be able to explore Kanto with me. And you'd train with my team and course, you can also choose to stay with the Professor. He's promised me that he will take care of you if you want to stay.'

The human continued, his eyes shining with promise and confidence, "Arcanine… The professor has one at the ranch. I've seen what your species can become. A monster that crushes everything beneath its foot. And if you fight with me I'll get you there for sure. The question is, do you want to?"

Growlithe considered himself a pragmatic creature. And yet, at that moment, the promise in the human's words had overwhelmed his sense of pragmatism. In that one moment, he had forgotten that Red was practically a child by human standards. Instead, he had visualized the brave individual that had tried to save him at the expense of his own.

For no reason whatsoever.

Perhaps the mawile was right. This human— Red —was dopey. The good kind of dopey though, and Growlithe could deal with that. He'd take Red's particular brand of dopey-ness over the cynical lab-coat-men anyday.

In the end, Growlithe had ended up taking Red's offer.

That was three days ago.

And now he was cursing his own flawed judgment.

What was he thinking? That he'd gain Power? Strength?

There was nothing here that felt remotely close to that. Instead, all he could feel was the sheer exhaustion that threatened to overwhelm him as he ran.

The saddest thing was, he wasn't even going anywhere.

Growlithe slowed down as he glared at the cause of his sufferings. This… this mindless, sadistic, human contraption. Red had called it a treadmill, an object that only reinforced the cruelty of humans to his mind. After all, why would anyone make a road that never went anywhere?

No matter how long he pushed or how fast he ran, it just never stopped.

Though not from lack of effort. Growlithe had tried everything.

The thing would go slowly when he walked, but whenever Growlithe tried to get the better out of it by running, it would pick up speed. He tried to outlast it, but it had run for the past two hours, with no sign of stopping. Vicious contraption it might have been but it did have intelligence. The pragmatic side of him approved.

But his patience was limited and his approval was fading with the knowledge that no matter how fast or long he ran it would just not let him move ahead. Every instinct in his body was telling him that this was unnatural. Something about it was just wrong. He thought he had seen human cruelty back at the lab, but this… this was on an entirely different level.

What was worse was that he had subjected himself to it willingly.

Maybe the mawile had a point after all?

"How is it going?"

His instincts getting the better of him, Growlithe twisted his neck in an attempt to snarl at the person responsible for his current misfortune. Regretfully so, he realized midway that the voice was feminine, and even more so, didn't belong to that crafty mawile. Instead it was—

Snikt!

His legs tripped, unable to maintain the coordination as the infernal machine suddenly moved faster, making him fall face-first, before flying off the treadmill and slamming into the wall.

Growlithe tried very hard to keep the whimper from leaving his throat, not wanting to show any weakness to the intruder.

And of course, he failed. Dismally.

"Are you… okay?"

Growlithe looked up at the familiar intruder. With the black skirt-like extension and bright crimson eyes, she looked very fetching. From what he understood, she was called a Gardevoir, but was actually a Mia.

What even was a Mia anyway?

Growlithe didn't really understand, but that was probably Mawile's fault.

This… Mia had joined their insane, little club around three days ago. It was the very first day he had gotten to see Red after that entire forest-fire incident. If he were honest with himself, Growlithe had been somewhat conflicted about the odd group he had found himself with.

Skarmory had healed over time and despite the horrific experience, her regality hadn't suffered at all. If anything, she seemed to hold her scars with pride— her words, not his.

It was especially weird when considering she had no scars to begin with.

Of course, being the pragmatic and curious little growlithe that he was, he had simply pointed out the lack of scars with an honest expression. Skarmory had instead gotten defensive of all things and mentioned something about scars that could not be seen or something equally ridiculous.

As he said, weird.

The scyther was at least somewhat bearable. He made a lot of sense in some cases, but was equally bullheaded in others. No matter how much Mawile tried to explain the trainer concept to him, the stupid bug refused to think of Red as anything less than his master. Mawile had gone so far as to scare Scyther with stories of a certain notebook that Red seemed to have that was used for torture during training. She was convinced that it was some sort of cursed object and the fact that the said notebook had mysteriously survived that massive forest fire only seemed to validate that in her mind.

Growlithe would have laughed if not for Skarmory. He hadn't seen the bird look anything but regal and the downright uncomfortable expression she was making bothered him greatly.

Perhaps there was something truly sinister about that notebook? Back then he hadn't understood, but between his experience as an experiment and his experience on the treadmill, he realized that Mawile had, in fact, not been lying to him.

Humans were truly cruel creatures.

Of the shellder… well, he didn't know what to think of it, to be honest. The thing kept itself sunk inside the fountain for days, liberating water bubbles for no reason at all— often in the middle of the night. Growlithe had once seen an identical shellder inside the bubble before he had blinked and then it vanished. He tried not to think too much about it.

Besides, Shellder was weird. Even Mawile agreed with him on that, and wasn't that alarming?

And the less said about the trickster mawile the better.

Group of lunatics indeed.

And then, she joined in.

Growlithe had exercised a lot of caution and propriety that day. He had absolutely not started salivating.

"Red has gotten everyone lunch. I was asked to fetch you."

Had he mentioned that she had a very sweet voice too?

"Uhm…. are you coming?"

Growlithe let out a soft woof, before pulling himself up from the floor. Meanwhile, the gorgeous fairy levitated herself into the air, and flew out, leaving him enthralled at the sight.

When she did the flying thing, she looked impeccably graceful.

When he tried to jump, he had fallen nose-first onto the floor.

He was totally not speaking from experience.

Giving one last look at the diabolical machine that was responsible for his latest bruise, Growlithe let out a cursed whimper and walked out.

Being free sure was tough. And painful too.

"This is really good," Delia commented, biting into the sandwich with relish. "I didn't know my son was such a great cook."

"It is," Oak agreed. "I didn't know you could get avocado here of all places. I thought they were only available in Celadon."

Red grinned softly. Ever since he had woken up from that emotional rollercoaster, life had been full of activity, for both himself and his family. Of course, Mawile had gotten first dibs and rushed into his arms the moment she knew that he was awake. It had taken several tests before the doctors had declared him mentally fit, which was kind of surprising considering everything he had gone through.

Not that he had any reason to look a gift ponyta in the mouth.

"I was surprised too," Red smiled, "I found a grocery store selling those when we went out shopping and remembered how Mia loves avocado sandwiches." He chuckled, ignoring the blush on Mia's face as she sat beside him and munched in silence. He idly glanced at Mawile who was lovingly caressing her new poképuff jar, wiping off the imaginary dirt from its cap.

Some things never change, Red mused, rolling his eyes.

"Did you get everything?" Oak inquired, "Most of your supplies probably didn't survive the fire. Best to restock when you are in a city. Cerulean will take a while you know."

That bit was true. With the exception of his notebook, his medicine case and some equipment, most of his stuff had been burnt to ashes, including the tent. He had spent an entire day with his mother, shopping for essential commodities that he'd need, now that he had decided to continue his journey.

It had taken him seven long hours to return home.

In hindsight, not taking Mia and Mawile with him might have been a better option. It seemed like, despite her evolution, Mia was still the picky little thing he remembered, and took her sweet time before deciding what to purchase for herself.

Mawile though…

Red shuddered.

It had been really mortifying when a shopkeeper had come running after them, claiming that Mawile had stolen one of his poképuff jars. The real embarrassment though, was that after she was caught, Mawile had tried to pay the retailer with a single poképuff from the very jar she stole.

"Red?"

Oak's voice shook him out of his reverie. "Wha— oh, sorry. I was planning something else, actually. There's something I want to try before going to Cerulean."

The older man tilted his head in curiosity.

"When I was shopping yesterday, I found an advertisement about this thing called Mt. Moon Adventure Course."

Delia shook her head in mock despair. "And here I was thinking you missed that."

"You were trying too hard for that, mom," Red threw her a cheeky grin.

Mia chuckled softly.

"Oh, that one," Oak's eyes glinted in surprise. Seemingly ignoring Delia's good-natured frown, he went on, "it's something Pewter City offers as a tourist attraction."

"That's strange," Delia wondered audibly. "I've never heard of that one before."

"Because it used to be a private coaching academy before. It only opened itself for tourists pretty recently."

"Huh? What did they do?" Red asked, curious.

"Train people to survive in hazardous conditions by running them ragged through the mountainous terrain in a controlled setting. Very useful for those who want to be explorers, though a tad expensive. It could cost you a good amount of cash."

"Cash I have," Red answered a bit too ardently before he remembered something. "About that..."

"Yes, it's safe to treat it like it's yours," Oak answered with a heavy sigh.

"Like my own—"

"Yes."

"And I won't have to return it ever—"

"Yes."

"And I can use it without—"

"For the last time Red," Oak replied, rubbing his forehead in annoyance, "you need not return it. Use it as your own."

"...Okay." Red took a deep breath. He had gotten a conniption when he had checked his account, after paying for most of his necessities and equipment. Delia had been rather stubborn about paying for everything but he had stayed firm.

That was when he had checked his current balance.

And nearly fell off his chair.

"I still cannot believe I have three hundred thousand in my account," Red mumbled in a half-skeptical, half-elated voice. "Like why would anyone even send me that much money?"

"I told you," Oak rubbed the tip of his nose. "Mr. Waterflower realized that his daughter had broken a major law and wanted to… make amends. My advice is to not go overboard and not waste it on meaningless things. It's a large amount, so spend it wisely."

Red bobbed his head. "Sure thing."

"I think you can give him some leeway there, professor," Delia vouched for him. "He has been managing everything quite fine all these years," she paused, her expression temporarily flickering between sadness and resignation, "I'm sure he'll manage it quite fine."

"See?" Red jumped up at the show of confidence. "You should trust me a little more, old man."

Oak rolled his eyes at that.

"Say," Red continued after a moment's thought, "how much would a dragon cost?"

Delia desperately tried to hold back from her sudden coughing fit, before twisting her neck to look at him, almost in indignation at being proven wrong so fast.

"...what?"

"Nothing," Oak drawled, obviously trying to keep himself from snickering.

Even Mia began to giggle, much to Mawile's confusion.

"What?" Red questioned again.

"Why would you want to purchase a dragon?" Delia almost snapped in annoyance.

"Because they are cool?" came the honest reply.

Oak shook his head in resignation. "Sometimes I forget you're still a teen barely out on your journey."

"What's that got to do with me purchasing a dragon? You give out charmander as starters every year, and they are—"

"Draconic, I know," Oak went on agreeably, "but that's not why charmander are chosen. They are chosen because they have three-stage evolutions, and grow pretty fast, even compared to most other fire-types. They are also not too difficult to train. And no, despite their outer appearances, they are not quite… draconic."

"If it looks like a dragon and flies like a dragon—" Red began.

"Doesn't make it a dragon." Oak finished for him. "A creature is called a dragon only when it meets a number of requirements. Charizard, despite its external appearance, fails at that, which is why it's a fire type."

"Completely unfair," Red muttered.

Oak chuckled at his impertinence. "Either way, I should remind you that rookie trainers aren't allowed to purchase dragons. And remember to get it from official sources when you are ready. Remember what I told you about novice trainers that get duped by sleazy salesmen over rare pokémon?"

"They ripoff trainers by charging exorbitant prices for rare pokémon. Like with the shiny magikarp!" Red finished for him, remembering the story the old man had shared with him. Apparently, some trainer had been duped into purchasing a shiny magikarp for ten thousand bucks, promising a direct evolution into a rare gyarados that could fly.

"Exactly!" Oak seemed delighted that he remembered his little story.

Red struggled to find a good answer for a bit, before continuing, "but well I can always get myself a char—" He glanced at growlithe again.

Will it … will it even be worth it? Arcanine are apex fire-types. Shouldn't I just get a dragon?

"Tell you what," Oak said, as if sensing Red's inner turmoil, "why don't we wait till you're a Mid-Intermediate. That way you'd be legally allowed to own a dragon. Worst case scenario, you can always buy one, right?"

"Stop making sense old man."

Oak rolled his eyes.

"Aren't you both counting torchic's before they're hatched? He still needs to win his first badge." Delia put in her two cents.

"Easily done," Red refuted proudly, "I'll begin training right away. I want to get the Boulder Badge before moving on."

"A capital idea," Oak clapped his hands, "me and your mother can even watch. Perhaps Delia will be more comfortable after seeing you fight?"

Red glanced at his mother's face with a searching expression.

"I— I suppose."

"Then it's settled," Oak began." The both of us will—"

"Wait— Wait a second!, Why would you guys want to attend anyway? Don't you need to get back to work?"

"So you don't want us here now, is that how it is?" Oak asked, pretending to be hurt.

"Whatever," Red said, a little miffed, "You've already made up with your mind. You're gonna be there no matter what I say aren't you."

"Busted."

"We have an invitation to an event here in Pewter next week," Delia spoke up, "we'll be here till then. Perhaps you'd like to attend?"

Red blinked. "What event?"

"It's about..." Oak began, only to stop himself midway, "about something interesting. Lots of people from all over the world will be attending it. Even Gym leaders from other cities will be there."

"That big, eh?" Red wondered aloud, munching on his sandwich. "Wait… will Pewter Gym even be open?"

"It's going to close after the delegates come in. You'd have to challenge him in the next five days, or wait till the event finishes.."

"Five?" Red winced.

Oak blinked. "I'd have thought that after so much experience, challenging your first gym would be a cakewalk."

"It's not that," Red did his best to not look shifty. "I was intending to challenge him for a certification battle."

" A… a certification battle?" Oak blinked in surprise. "I must remind you, there is a reason why rookies don't take certification battles. Most people who do that are Mid-Intermediates or more."

Red understood his concern. Most trainers followed the standard gym-routes, which allowed them to try subsequent gyms and rise up the trainer hierarchy in time. It was good and suited most people. In essence, the gym circuit was a training-circuit that produced large numbers of High-Intermediate trainers.

That said, it was slow. A trainer could win three of his first three gym battles and still be a High Rookie. It was only the fourth gym that required you to be Low-Intermediate.

Slow, and suited most people. Just not him.

Not after all he had been through.

In contrast, a certification battle would fit perfectly for his needs. Unlike their standard counterpart, a certification was aimed at acquiring a specific trainer level. To participate in a conference all that needed to happen was for a trainer to be at the High-Intermediate level. Whether that happened in one gym or eight was irrelevant.

In addition, these certifications were required for other jobs, especially for explorers. Unlike conferences which just tested strength, Gyms tested your ability to defeat a pokémon of similar strength in its own environment. For instance, an explorer who would be working in or around water bodies would require a High-Intermediate certification from a water-type gym.

Also, to prevent people from challenging the gyms without pause, a five hundred dollar deposit was charged, and would be refunded should the challenge be successful. Further, the trainer has to wait two full weeks before he could challenge the gym again.

That being said, it was fast, and if one went about it the wrong way, expensive as well.

Not to mention the other casualty.

In essence, once you had been certified at a certain level, subsequent gym battles could not be taken at a level lower than that. Once a trainer had chosen the path of certification battles, he could not return to the standard process.

"I was already ranked at High Rookie at the Trainer Square," Red clarified. "I've grown and so has my team and I need to see that. At this point, it's Low-Intermediate or nothing."

"Don't you think you're being a little too hasty, son?" Delia asked. "You can simply try for a standard no-handicap badge, you know?" She looked at Oak, presumably for support.

His response was anything but.

"Why low? Why not mid?"

"Professor," Delia chastised, "please don't encourage him."

Oak ignored her. "To get a Mid-Intermediate ranking from a gym, you need to beat 4 such pokémon in their native environment. You are allowed to use a total of six pokémon. You should be able to clear that."

It was possible to gain such a ranking with a single powerful pokémon and also with a team of weaker pokémon so long as the challenge was won. Which was why—

"Maybe Skarmory or Scyther can deal with that kind of challenge, but the rest of my team, as they are now, cannot. Maybe I'll try at the gym in Cerulean."

"Makes sense," Oak said approvingly "It's good to know one's limits."

"It's not about limits," Red countered. "I don't want to keep winning battles because of a few stronger or more experienced pokémon. When I take the Mid-Intermediate rank, I want my team to be ready for that. Every single one of them."

That surprised Delia. Oak, on the other hand, had a meaningful smile on his lips.

"I see," Oak smiled, "Even Shellder?"

The smile dropped from Red's face. "Well… almost my whole team. And Shellder is getting better. No pokémon that underestimates him has ever done well."

"You seem to have given this a fair amount of thought," Oak murmured, "but in this case, I have to disagree with you here."

"Huh?" Red asked, flabbergasted. "Why?"

"Because only Mid-Intermediates or higher can truly experience the Mount Moon Adventure Course. Low-Intermediates can apply, but they are barred from taking part in the more… interesting exercises. Then again, a lot of tourists do sign up just for that."

"If they don't participate, what do they do?"

Oak cupped his chin. "Well, sightseeing for one. Catching rare pokémon for another. There are a lot of subterranean pokémon down there. Perhaps you could catch something interesting for me?"

"Hang on!" Red exclaimed, "What about learning to be an explorer?"

"Spelunking often has its own share of dangers, and many suffer injuries because of their inexperience."

"Spelunking?" Red echoed.

"Injuries?" Delia croaked.

Oak chuckled at their reaction. "Cave exploration. Also, Delia, there is always the possible issue of injury on these kinds of trips. Though the people guiding them are experts and it's not likely."

"Injuries…" Delia murmured dolefully.

"Well, yes. Traveling through forestland and traveling through mountains are very different things. As it is, the adventure course will teach him how to navigate dangerous terrain. That being said, even the sightseeing would be beneficial. In fact," The old man's eyes brightened as he looked at Red, "I wonder if Gary would be interested in this as well."

"... What?"

"You wouldn't mind him joining you in this one, correct?"

"Whoa whoa whoa!" Red stopped him, hands raised up in alarm, "let's not be hasty here. I still have to win the certification battle before any of this can happen. As for Gary," he frowned a bit, "what's he up to again?"

Oak's grin widened. "Just finished his fifth badge. He's currently headed to Ecruteak for his sixth."

So roughly Mid-Intermediate as well. Red translated.

He tried hard not to frown. After starting his journey, he had slowly started to ignore the competitiveness he had shared back in school with the old man's grandson. But the fact that Gary was already on his fifth badge while he was still a High-Rookie...

"I'll challenge Brock for a Mid-Intermediate ranking," He decided aloud.

The stare Oak gave him was full of skepticism. "What happened to trying for Low?"

"If I'm spending the cash and time for this course, I don't want to waste it on sightseeing. I'll train with my team harder, and win". Red paused, before finishing somewhat hypocritically "Facing stronger opponents will be good for the rest of my team anyway."

"A lot of people would call that being dangerously overconfident," Delia warned.

"Maybe," Red agreed solemnly even as he took another bite from his sandwich, "but I won't know until I try."

"Your mother has a point," Oak advised, "fighting rock-types as an Intermediate is far more difficult than fighting them as a rookie. Most trainers from Pallet don't have that problem because they choose Pewter as their first gym. And while beating a couple of geodude might be simple, especially when Brock is going easy on them, you'd do well not to underestimate him."

An image of that terrifying monstrosity called golem came to mind. He involuntarily shuddered at that. "No way old man," he breathed, "I'm not going to take any rock-type casually."

"Ah…" The professor paused knowingly. " Well, it's not going to be quite as bad as what you faced in the forest."

Red snorted "Glad to see your sense of humor is still okay."

"Always. Anyhow, what are you going to use in the battle? I doubt your growlithe is ready for a fight."

Growlithe let out a whimper at that.

Red rolled his eyes. The more he spent time with the fire-type, the more he came to understand it. For something that could tear a machoke open with severe ruthlessness, Growlithe was a rather pacifistic creature— not wanting to battle at all, if he had his way. At the same time, he chased strength desperately, undergoing its training almost religiously— far longer than Red had instructed him to.

The poor thing had spent much of its life in a cage, or so they inferred through its atrophied legs. It was much slower than a normal Growlithe. And yet, it spent hours on the treadmill every day.

Red sighed.

Here he was, with a team of six, and none of them had been caught by him.

He wondered what that said about him as a trainer.

Not that it was his fault. If anything, he was being punished for doing the right thing.

"..."

Or perhaps he was more influenced by Mawile's way of thinking than he believed.

He took another bite of his sandwich.

"I'm going to use my entire team. That's the point of a certification battle, right? I'm allowed six team members to face Brock's four?"

"Red, I highly doubt Shellder counts as a team member," Delia interjected. "If only you had a proper water-type…"

Mawile seemed to perk up at her words before she smacked Shellder in the shell.

"Mawile, stop bullying Shellder." Red replied half-heartedly. It hadn't actually garnered a reaction from it, but that was beside the point.

"Even your pokémon know better," Delia muttered.

Red decided he must have imagined the sadistic grin that his starter sent towards his mother. The sudden shaking of her black jaw must have been his imagination as well.

That thing felt way too alive to be just a jaw, but it was best not to think of some things too much.

"Even so, you only have a team of five," Oak scrunched his face, "unless you want to include Mia. Are you going to make her fight?"

"Naturally."

Even his mother looked at him in surprise.

"...what?"

More staring.

"Is something wrong about that?"

"I thought you didn't want Mia to battle. That was why you left her behind." Oak replied, in a somewhat cool voice.

"Well, things are different now. She's… evolved."

"And that changes things?"

Red tilted his head. "It doesn't? But she— "

"Red," Delia seemed to arrive at a conclusion, given her tone of voice, "you do know that gardevoir are pacifists? They don't battle. Ever."

That made him pause. "...Ever?"

He ignored the growing sensation of uncertainty in his mind. It wasn't his own.

"Then how do they survive in the wild?" Red felt an odd sensation gnawing at his mind. He knew Mia was thinking about it too, but she had no clue. After all, she had been tiny when his mother had taken her from her home.

"By making the attacker not want to attack," Delia was the one that answered, "They make you feel happy. Content. You cannot attack If all you want to do is dance and sing, can you?"

"Huh? Then how did you get her?"

Delia chuckled. "I didn't. You did."

"..."

"Remember how you gave her the pastry?" Delia laughed heartily. "When I told my colleagues about how my son had caught a baby ralts with a pastry, they were dumbfounded too."

Red blinked.

Then blinked again. "I… took Mia out of her garden?"

A strange sensation hit him in the head. He wasn't very sure but the closest he could do was associate it with the word— Duh!

"Anyway, that's beside the point. Why do you want Mia to battle? Surely between the rest of your team, you can challenge Brock and win, right?" Delia goaded him.

"It's cause she," Red paused, glancing at his sister in all but blood "She wants to."

"She wants— what do you mean Mia wants to?" Delia exploded.

Oak, on the other hand, seemed a bit more speculative. "Red, how do you know that she wants to battle?"

"She told me."

Oak blinked. "You can talk to her?"

Red shook his head. "Not talk. I guess it's more like… feel. Her emotions about whatever she's thinking. It's kind of odd, to have someone else's emotions in my mind, but not really that difficult to identify what's mine and what's hers." He pointed a thumb at Mia, who blushed for some reason.

It was something he had discovered after waking up. An effect of the connection he had with her, or something like that.

Emotions weren't the best way to explain cold, hard facts.

He really didn't understand the underlying mechanics of it all. All he knew is that a connection, a bond existed, and allowed him to feel Mia's emotions— a primal sense of understanding that made him privy to her innermost feelings. It was both captivating and yet, felt like a breach of her privacy.

Of course, Mia seemed to think otherwise, but that was probably because she wasn't human.

At first, he had thought she had become like Kaz— capable of telepathy over very short distances. Now though, it seemed that she had a lot left to grow in that field. As far as emotions were concerned however, her range was much higher.

He had sensed her even when he had been shopping with his mother.

After all the years of trying to interpret thousands of combinations of the general 'kirl', the somewhat grumpy 'li', the rather exuberant 'liaaa' and finally the over-the-top 'irrrr', the ability to actually understand her was a treat for his mind.

Strange and new, and yet alluring at the same time.

"You can sense her emotions…" Oak trailed off, probably wondering about the nature of their odd connection. Well that, or wondering why all oddities of the universe seemed to think that Red was their new poster boy.

Not that he could blame the old man. It was just his stupid luck.

His eyes shifted to Mia again, before taking a cursory glance at his entire team.

And yet I'd change none of it.

"We did think that was possible," His mother said abruptly, leaning forward with interest. "Some sort of metaphysical link. So no thoughts at all? Just emotions?"

"... yes." Red said carefully. "Just emotions."

"Ah."

"That's interesting to know."

Given the looks his mother and Oak were giving each other, it was probably more than just interesting.

"And Mia told you she wants to— I mean, you felt that she wants to fight?" Delia questioned.

"Voir!" Mia spoke up, giving her consent.

"Good to know," Delia murmured.

"Is it really that rare for a gardevoir to fight?" Red asked, honestly surprised at their reaction.

"You'd be fighting Brock," Oak answered with a grin. "See his reaction with your own eyes."

"I guess I will," Red grinned with confidence, "but if I'm trying for a mid-level rank, I need to up my training first."

He looked around. "By the way, has anyone seen my notebook?"

The sudden groans let out by his team must have been his imagination.

As someone that had survived Paul for an entire year, Scyther was no stranger to training. In fact, he had actually been looking forward to it. The eccentric bunch that called themselves Red's team were probably the strangest creatures Scyther ever had the misfortune to meet.

Literally nothing made sense about them.

Or Red, for that matter.

It had been three days since Red had officially welcomed him as part of the team— a welcome change from the constant bouts of uncertainty. As someone that had been trained and rejected by another human, Scyther couldn't help but feel a bit out of place in the midst of the herd. All of them, even the Shellder, had been captured by Red— regardless of whatever tripe that mawile creature seemed to blabber —and all of them had strong connections with him.

Him though? It was uncertain and Scyther was a bit worried that he'd be taken away by those League humans Paul went on and on about. After all, Red hadn't captured him, but taken him down like a pest.

And while Scyther believed that his actions against the other man had kind of… proved his worth, he was unsure if Red had even noticed it.

Not that Scyther could blame him.

So it was to his surprise that the first words that came out of the humans words were—

"Thank you."

The human had thanked him and wasn't that unusual. It was weird and strange but in a good way. Paul had trained him, turned him into the fighter that he was today despite Scyther's inherent weaknesses, but he had never thanked him.

It made Scyther a little confused, to be honest.

The rest of his words had gone above Scyther's head. He was still trying to process Red's initial statement. Nevertheless, when Red had taken out a pokéball, and offered it to him, Scyther hadn't wasted a second.

Which brought him to the present moment.

It was the first day of their official training. Over the past three days, he had allowed everyone, save growlithe to loiter around, almost aimlessly. The mawile had spent her time religiously counting her poképuffs— and she was always extra careful when he was around. It was almost like she expected him to snatch her precious jar full of—

Oh.

Well, come to think of it, her actions made a good deal of sense. He had stolen her jar back in the forest after all. That said, they weren't that great. Or perhaps it had something to do with his own preferences regarding food?

As for the rest of the team, well, frankly speaking, the new fairy scared him. Something about her was… unnatural. When you got past that, she was quite soft-spoken, and loved to talk about Red. All the time. Wouldn't shut up about him, in fact.

On the other hand, the skarmory was doing a perfectly fine job of ignoring him for no reason at all.

And the less said about the shellder the better.

Eccentric bunch, indeed.

It was almost fitting that they had Red as their trainer. Perhaps it was a case of like attracting like?

"Alright everyone," Red began with a loud clap, "it's time we resume our training where we left off. Mawile if you would?"

For some reason, the mawile looked deathly pale, almost as if she were about to be inflicted with some kind of horrible malady. She was carrying a thin paper notebook with a brownish cover in her jaw, and with the way she kept on twitching, Scyther wondered how the notebook had managed to stay in one piece.

Interesting.

"Thank you," Red took the notebook, oblivious to his starter's twitchings. "We have our first gym battle ahead of us. This is my… first gym as well, so I cannot say I have a lot of experience with it, but from what I have seen, it shouldn't be very different from the battles we have experienced before."

Skarmory scoffed.

"No it isn't going to be as easy as that Samurai, Skarmory," the human went on, never noticing how Skarmory had seemingly paused.

Come to think of it, Red had interpreted her words very accurately. Too accurately, in fact. Weren't humans unable to understand pokémon and everything?

Very interesting.

"Brock is a gym leader. He's not going to try to kill us with his pokémon, and we won't try to either." Red looked pointedly at his starter. "Are you listening, Mawile?"

Mawile scoffed and looked away. At least she was listening now. It was a great improvement from the last time he scolded her— she had stolen a poképuff jar, from what he gathered —and she had ignored him by singing loudly. From what he gathered, she was upset at her trainer's hypocritical behavior. Something about telling her not to steal and then stealing back the poképuff jar that she stole.

Paul would never condone such behavior and from what he gathered in his time with humans, no trainer would. Just another point that showed how strange his new master was.

"Anyway," their trainer continued. "We show our strength, and we defeat our opponents. But We. Do. Not. Kill. Please."

Scyther almost sniggered at the look of surprise Growlithe gave Red. From what he understood, the puppy was raised isolated and experimented upon. He seemingly had no clue about training and battles. Scyther briefly wondered what the growlithe would do when put into a real fight.

Not to look down or anything, but it was just a growlithe after all. He has defeated tons of them and that was when he just started out.

"We're going to start with the moves that you have perfected. After that, we will be working on some new moves I've gotten for you, and we'll try to get them in working order over the next couple of days. We need to be in our best form if we want to defeat Brock and his team of rock-types."

Rock-types.

He said rock-types.

A jarring sensation hit Scyther. Rock-types. Gym. Brock. How had he not noticed this before? Was it because he had stayed inside the hospital premises all this while?

This was Pewter City.

This was where Paul had challenged Brock over something called an Elite-level battle. Scyther couldn't have cared less about it but he remembered that bit.

It was hard not to, what with the way his previous trainer went on and on about beating some Brandon human or something.

Paul was pretty repetitive that way.

This was also the place he had fought his last battle as one of Paul's pokémon. He had been utterly humiliated by that creature Paul called a lycanroc. Paul had literally kicked him out of the team, calling him a useless waste of space.

He staggered, the feelings of betrayal, hopelessness and self-loathing shooting up his spine. He had come full circle, Scyther mused. This was the place where everything had ended, and this was the place he'd have to pass through if he wanted a fresh start.

Or, he'd be looked down as weak a second time, and then banished to the forest.

And it would start all over again.

"Scyther?"

Scyther looked up. Strangely enough, Red was looking at him. Yet, his eyes didn't contain the irritation that he had come to expect— no wait, that was Paul. This was Red.

Red, not Paul. Scyther reminded himself.

He grunted in acknowledgment.

"If you are not feeling well, you can rest for a bit."

And make myself seem like a waste? No way.

He shook his head in denial.

"Scyther," Red asked, this time with a bit more concern, "I want to win the gym battle, but not at the cost of my team's suffering. Go rest for a bit, and you can continue when you're feeling better."

Scyther shook his head again. Red's words— they sounded too good to be true. It was a hoax. It had to be. It was probably a ploy to reveal his weaknesses. Cast him as the worthless one. Banish him away. Paul had done that. Red would do the same.

Not again.

He'd win. Or he'd die trying.

Letting out a defiant screech, he shook his head. Again.

And again.

"You…." Red seemed a little wary of him, "want to train?"

Nod.

The human swallowed. Was he afraid?

"Well, fine I suppose." Red murmured.

Scyther looked around. He could see the not-so-subtle shift in Mawile's posture.

He could see Skarmory narrowing her eyes slightly.

He could see the new fairy— Mia —purse her lips tightly.

Do they fear me? Afraid that I'd attack— attack Red?

And here he thought he was part of the team. And even, even after all this, he was still the outsider.

He supposed he should have seen that coming.

With a sigh, Scyther gave up.

I should just—

"— might as well join in then."

— stay away from— WHAT?

Scyther looked up, a little dumbfounded. Red apparently had caught onto his expression.

"If you don't want to rest, might as well take part in the training," the enigmatic human went on, with that damnable, confusing smile of his, "after all, we wouldn't want you to slack off, would we?"

Scyther let out a screech in acknowledgment.

Perhaps there was some hope for him after all.

Pewter City was, after all said and done, a massive juxtaposition of antiquity and technology. Calling it a city was actually a misnomer, considering that it was basically a different nation in itself. Built in the cradle of the Mountains of the Moon— one of the largest mountain ranges on the mainland, this place was referred to as Anak Gunung in the local tongue, meaning Child of the Mountain.

The entire region was divided into three main parts. The largest of them was an enormous citadel, crafted out of rock, forming an architectural wonder known as the Benteng. Originally built as a large platform to serve as a general marketplace, the Benteng had now become an architectural tourist spot that was heavily frequented with tourists for those that wanted a glimpse of how the native population lived. It was a place heavily populated with all sorts of antique shops, and significantly contributed to the annual revenue. The academy that offered the Mt Moon Adventure Course was also located in this segment.

The second was a reticulum of tiny doors and hallways spreading out through an entire mountain called the Kush. This was, from what he understood, the home of the native populace. Tourists weren't allowed there, and the place had sanctorums built in honor of their serpentine god. Despite its architectural grandeur, the entire place was off-limits to anyone not of the tribal population. The doors were apparently gateways to individual homes where the people lived.

The third and final part was the Pewter City itself. Originally a settlement composed of archaeologists, researchers, miners and excavator equipment, the compound had slowly grown over a period of twenty years to become what it was today. A simple laboratory next to a decrepit power station had morphed into one of the largest technological wonders in Kanto and Johto.

It was in this region that the Pewter General Hospital, as well as the other administrative offices, were located. But today, Red had eyes for just one singular edifice— his destination after a week of relaxation and training.

The Pewter City Gym.

At first sight, the institution seemed to reflect everything Pewter city stood for. Constructed out of a single monolith, the building had a giant compound carved out of stone imitating the design of the temples he had seen while at the Benteng, only larger and spread out across a larger area. The frontage had a large seal depicting what seemed like a draconic serpentine creature with some inscriptions engraved upon it, presumably in the native tongue. The outer gateway stood tall on six pillars, three on each side, with elaborate architectural depictions that would have only been the work of master craftsmen. On top of the pillars were large pedestals, sprawled out with two figures on top— a human and a pokémon. He couldn't recognize any of the people, but some of the pokémon were fairly recognizable.

A rhyperior, a golem, a donphan, and is that a TYRANITAR?

Making a note to himself to study more about the city's past, Red walked past the hallway, stepping into the main courtyard. A set of stairs led him into the interior of the building only to find himself with a large block of stone blocking his way forward.

He chuckled. This slab of stone had confused the heck out of him when he had arrived at this place three days ago to apply for a battle.

Apparently the natives of Pewter were big believers of the concept of 'stating purpose for action'. Following that logic, an outsider needed to clearly state his intentions before expecting entry into their place of work or residence. Brock, as the gym-leader and the current chief of the tribes, had used a similar mechanism for his gym.

"Red Ketchum. Here to challenge the Gym Leader for a battle."

And just like that, the slab hissed as it separated from the middle, revealing a passage for him to walk through.

Red walked in, and just like his previous experience, found himself in a completely different world.

Gone were the rocky decorations and the architectural ingenuity. The place he currently stood could be best described as an ultra-modern building with some of the most advanced technology in place. Walking up to the receptionist's desk, he submitted his pokédex.

"Red Ketchum for a certification battle."

The receptionist, Zinnia from what he remembered her name was, took the pokédex from his hands and connected it to the terminal. She hit a couple of keys on the terminal, before looking up and addressing him.

"Everything is in order, Mr. Ketchum. You'll be allowed to use six pokémon, so please sort things out when you go there. The gym leader will be meeting you shortly. Please go to the Challenger's Room. It is the eighth door on the right."

Red gratefully took the pokédex from her hands, before walking towards his destination, following the signs.

"I hope I'm not making a mistake with this." He told himself.

It was a pity that he couldn't release any of his pokemon — or Mia for that matter— until he entered the battle premises. Something about security protocols and all that.

He found the room, and entered it cautiously. The insides were an entirely different matter altogether.

The entire place seemed to be cloaked in silvery metal, with several screens attached at different places along the walls. He walked up to a podium that he presumed was the challenger's place to stand, while an identical podium stood on the opposite side. They were separated by a large battle arena, easily a hundred feet in diameter. He found a headset waiting for him at his podium, reminding him of his battle against Ashley at the Square, and wore it without hesitation.

And yet, Brock wasn't there to be seen.

"I suppose I should take whatever time I get." He murmured. He had already given his version of a pep-talk to his team before walking to the gym. He wasn't sure how effective it had been, given Mawile had been munching poképuffs all the while, and Shellder had been… throwing up bubbles.

He suppressed an instinctive desire to facepalm at the thought.

At least Growlithe and Skarmory had given him a fairly interested gaze, while Scyther seemed stuck in something between determination and fear.

Red hadn't really given the latter that much thought.

The last had been Mia. Red wasn't exactly sure how her battle would go on, but one thing was given. He needed to be careful— very careful— if it came to using that ability.

"This might," he found himself saying, "this is really a terrible idea."

"Ah I see you have arrived," a voice echoed from the other side of the chamber.

Red looked up and found Brock, the Pewter Gym leader, walking up to his podium.

"You must be the professor's ward."

Red nodded.

"They are watching the battle you know. Put on a good show."

Red stared at him blankly.

"I've heard many good things about you from the rangers. But a Mid-Intermediate challenge? Usually, it's one's sixth gym that accepts a challenge on this level. But to do so on your very first— Don't you think this is a little… overboard?"

"I… I think I stand a good chance. A lot of things depend on this." he stuttered a bit, "but I won't step away from it now."

"Well," the gym-leader chuckled, "far be it for me to underestimate the passion of new challengers. That said, I must warn you. There is a reason why people challenge this gym as rookies, and not as Intermediates."

"I know. I have seen some... powerful rock-types."

"The golem, yes, I know," Brock chuckled. "It's currently under my care. I'm sure it regrets whatever atrocities it committed under that terrorist's orders."

I'm sure Misty's feraligatr will be grateful for its regret.

"Before we begin, let me just remind you about the rules. As a gym-leader, I am allowed four pokémon, their forms and moves limited to the mid-intermediate level. As a challenger, you are allowed to use a maximum of six pokémon of varying levels. Substitutions are allowed for the challenger. The battle ends when one of us is left without a pokemon that can battle. Do you consent?"

Red nodded. He had already read up on the rules the previous day when applying for it.

"As is tradition, I will choose my pokémon first."

"Fine with me," Red muttered, as he watched Brock select a pokéball and toss it onto the field.

"Let us begin."

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