I hope you enjoy this part. Originally it was only a chapter and a half long, and far from being my favorite: there was my interest event, and everything else was just filler that I wanted to get through quickly.
And then I tried something: a big rewrite with a change of point of view, setting, order of events, and it became 3-4 chapters long to form a real mini-arc.
Sure, my first version was maybe more concise, but after that rewrite, I felt like I gave that part a mood, made it more memorable, and simply made it a passage I enjoyed reading.
Under our feet there are always balsamine seeds
As he had done every morning for the past twenty years, Benjamin had left his home at 6:30 to go to work, thinking it would be a good day. He was a man in his mid-fifties with no special characteristics other than the fact that he could boast of having the most beautiful, if not the only, Cycling Road in the Hoenn region.
It was a beautiful day. The sun was still shy at this early hour, a few white clouds painted on the blue canvas of the sky, and the north wind cooled by the bay that surrounded Route 110. It must have been the same weather when he had presented his project.
Benjamin chuckled as he remembered the reaction of his elders and all the ways they had tried to convince him to build a highway instead. But their highway was a fool's errand when most of the people on Route 110 were trainers. And trainers didn't drive Rapidash or Milotic. So, Benjamin had stuck to his guns and hired an architect.
The architect... he had given him a run for his money with his crazy ideas. Benjamin had become angry when he saw the absurd plans for the track. At the same time, what a stupid idea to build such a winding track when you could go straight. Especially since the track was built high above the sea, so there was no obstacle to avoid that would justify such a meander. But in response to his remarks, the architect had replied that the bike path would be built in harmony with Route 110.
Benjamin thought this was a joke. He couldn't believe that the road, as twisted as its designer and constantly criticized as a waste of time, was inspiring the new generation. It seemed that people preferred stupid ideas to good old-fashioned pragmatism. But in the end, without really knowing how, Benjamin was convinced. At the time, he thought he was making a mistake, but what followed proved him wrong.
The cyclists, far from complaining, found it amusing to cross the winding track in record time. This underground race soon became an institution and a constant source of attraction, much more than just being able to get from Slateport to Mauville in a minimum of time. Another advantage was that the widening of the road made it possible to set up a number of rest areas, where various junk food was sold to the less courageous cyclists.
In short, this construction was Benjamin's pride, almost his child. And that's why, the state in which he had found it that morning had sounded like a real catastrophe.
During the night, all the robots and the automated security system had deactivated in unison, and the thugs, although barbaric would be a more appropriate term, had taken great pleasure in vandalizing the bike path. And even if it had only been graffiti, the bastards had used pokemons to attack the unfortunate structure. The once smooth, futuristic road was now littered with glass and concrete debris. There were even parts that had collapsed and disappeared into the water forever.
Should Benjamin have obeyed the trainers' request to keep his track open at night instead of closing it at 10 p.m.? Certainly not, he wasn't going to pay his employees the nightly rate to allow two trainers to ride their bikes. It was just common sense, especially when the trainers association subsidized you based on the number of members using the track. Benjamin would never understand how this organization could agree to pay for all these happy kids with their pocket monsters to go on a free bike ride.
But here he was, with his common sense, sitting in his office with his phone book on one side, the reports on the other, and all the declarations and insurance papers he had to sign in the middle. From his initial assessment, it would be a month before the track was even close to being accessible for a full repair... Let's just say that if it took six months for the workers to simply re-grade his track, his track wouldn't be restored to its former beauty for several years.
"Sir, some trainers want to see you," said one of his assistants at his desk.
"Again?" Benjamin despaired.
He had already spent the morning explaining to the disgruntled that the track was unusable, and the afternoon looked no better. The 50-year-old would have preferred to delegate this task, of course, but some idiot always had to yell "I want to see the director!" and Benjamin had no choice but to come and do his apologetic bowing.
"This is unacceptable!" was the first thing Benjamin heard when he arrived at the reception.
The director buried his head in his hand, bracing himself for the headache he was about to get. He knew the bike path was a great time saver, but he couldn't let the kids ride on a Swiss cheese road.
"If I had known, I would have gone straight to the 110," another trainer complained.
Benjamin had to force a smile on his face to keep from choking the speaker. On the Slateport side, that road was literally ten steps away from the bike path reception. That trainer had better get moving instead of standing there waiting. You'd think everyone here thought the good old director had played the false-closure joke on them.
"The Cycling Road is currently out of service. Please excuse the inconvenience," a synthetic voice announced.
It was the same one you'd find at train stations. The annoying kind that told you a hundred times that your train would be an hour late, causing passengers to sigh in exasperation.
"If you fixed it regularly instead of waiting until the last minute, we wouldn't be in this mess!" remarked another trainer who thought he was smarter than the average person.
Keeping his cool, being polite and courteous, and above all not insulting brainless morons was Benjamin's philosophy at the moment.
"At least let us borrow the bikes," said one of the people present.
The leader's hair stood on end at the thought. His precious bikes, thrown onto a pokemon-infested road. And the bikes were not suitable for an area full of mud and rocks, not to mention the risk of theft.
It was certain that if he let them, half of the bikes would end up in the garbage and the other half would be lost to nature forever. An unthinkable scenario that made Benjamin reject the proposal and earn the wrath of everyone present.
At first, they tried to pity him with stories of important appointments, funerals of anonymous grandmothers, and finally they ended up shouting, insulting, and promising that there would be consequences.
Benjamin remained stubborn, and Serena, from the back of the crowd, had to face the fact that she would not make it to Mauville before nightfall. At least she could count herself lucky to have a lot of time before the Verdanturf competition.
"Charmander, let's go," the girl sighed.
The pokemon followed her, and they headed for Route 110. Serena would have liked to ride her bike, but luck was not on her side. At least the weather was nice, that was something.
As she walked, the trainer noticed the salamander shining his claws, trying to cut through the tall grass that crossed their path. Since they wouldn't make it to the next town in one go, why not use the opportunity to train.
Ash was pleased with the girl's suggestion. He had recently learned two new attacks, but he was still struggling to execute them well, so a little fine-tuning wouldn't hurt. Not to mention, he would probably be competing in other tournaments. Therefore, he had to make better progress if he did not want to suffer a defeat as bitter as Slateport's.
Serena called Sylveon, counting on her friend's gentle and cautious temperament to prevent Charmander from getting hurt from the start.
"Try to reach Sylveon with Fire Spin."
The salamander didn't waste a second and launched his attack. The fairy pokemon didn't even have to move as the flames moved away from her and landed in the water along the path.
"You have to aim before your attack," the trainer said.
Ash remembered giving that kind of advice to many of his pokemons. It was easy to give orders, but when you were the one who had to carry them out, the task was much more difficult. He wanted to see if Serena could do it better than him. And even then, it was easy. Let her try to fight Ali and his Moon Blast, which would explode in your face.
"What's wrong?" Serena asked worriedly, seeing the dejected look on her monster's face.
Suddenly, the idea of Serena being in his place was much less appealing. He shook his head, nauseous at the thought of his friend getting hurt in a fight. After all, it was better for him to be the pokemon than the other way around.
The reptile took a deep breath and tried the same attack again. This time, the flames surrounded the fairy pokemon. Ash could barely contain his excitement as Serena smiled at her friend's progress.
"Great, Charmander. Sylveon, you can use Fairy Wind to extinguish the flames."
The pokemon crossed her ribbons before spreading them out quickly, creating a powerful pink gust. It was probably too strong, because it not only swept away the flames, but also hit the small orange creature hard, sending him flying off the path and into the water. The salamander struggled in the air, hoping to find some sort of footing in this inconsistent element.
"No! Not that! " Ash shouted.
The salamander stopped moving, defying the laws of gravity. Serena had barely caught him, trying to regain her balance so she wouldn't fall into the liquid with her friend. When the flame at the end of a charmander's tail goes out, it dies, the girl remembered with horror.
Sylveon hastily wrapped her ribbons around the rescuer's waist to help her recover. Ash breathed a sigh of relief when the shifting blue was no longer in his field of vision. Serena sighed with relief as well, but she could already feel her friend struggling in her arms, a sign that he wanted her to release him. However, the girl preferred to keep him against her, knowing that as soon as she let go, her pokemon would get into trouble again. And she wanted to catch her breath before that happened.
"Der?" the pokemon pointed to the sea where he had almost fallen a few minutes earlier.
Serena scanned the waves and noticed that there was indeed something there. Approaching the edge, she could clearly make out two small pokemons tossed about on the wooden plank that served as their raft.
Sylveon wasted no time, using her ribbons to bring the fragile sketch to shore. The furballs, no bigger than a pikachu, shivered in their soaked beige coats. One of them looked particularly bad, curled up in a ball and seemingly unable to move. His unlucky companion rubbed against him, trying to motivate him to move, but without much success.
Ash couldn't stand by and watch. He hoisted the injured pokemon onto his back, determined to get it to the Pokemon Center. But in his weak reptile state, he could only take four steps before collapsing.
"I'm not letting go of anything!" the former human shouted as he stood up.
Ash's cheeks puffed out and smoke came from his nostrils from the effort. He might have been weak, but that would never be an excuse for not helping a pokemon.
Seeing him struggle like that, Serena put her hand to her chest. He was the kind of pokemon who would put others before himself, even if it meant risking his own health.
"Charmander, I'll take care of it," the girl offered, kneeling down beside them.
Ash looked at her for a few seconds before handing over the little creature. The other pokemon was not reassured by the idea of a human touching his friend, but Ash found the right words to reassure him.
The trainer applied a potion to the pokemon's body. He quickly emitted a few spurts of electricity from his red cheeks, proving that the product was working. Seeing this, Serena wasn't unhappy about redoing her first aid kit at Slateport.
"Are you the same species?" asked Serena, trying to lighten the mood.
For Ash, who had seen many plusles and minuns, the answer was obvious. But for the Kalosian, it was not so simple. These two pokemons did indeed have the same body shape, with their short, fingerless legs and long ears. At first glance, one could even believe that they only differed in the color of certain parts of their bodies.
"What happened to you?" Ash asked.
"It's our house... it's gone crazy," the pokemon explained, looking at his sick friend.
Ash didn't really understand what he meant, but he approached the little pokemon and said:
"I'll help you!"
Minun looked up and down at the orange reptile, trying to find the right words to not hurt him.
"You're kind, but I'll figure it out."
"But you won't be able to do it alone."
The blue-cheeked pokemon bowed his head. Even if it were true, he doubted the fire pokemon could do anything to help them.
"Wattson. He'll be able to help us," Minun explained, emitting a few electric sprays from his cheeks.
"Wattson? You mean the gym leader?" Ash asked in surprise.
Minun did not answer. His hair bristled and he turned in Mauville's direction, as if the electric current emanating from his cheeks told him what to do. Ash had a bad feeling; he needed to reason with the pokemon quickly.
"Mauville is far from here, you should stay with us for a while until..."
"Take care of my brother," Minun cut him off before running away.
"Wait! You're in no condition," Ash panicked.
"Charmander?"
"Serena! Take Plusle to Pokemon Center while I take care of Minun!" he quickly explained.
Then the former human took off after the electric pokemon. His short legs had grown stronger, but it was not enough to catch Minun. He tried to forget the sore spot on his hip, his aching legs, and his feet, whose scales were not enough to protect him from the sharp rocks. He was tired of this road that kept twisting in all directions and gave him the impression of not moving forward. Finally, a pain in his stomach forced him to stop. He noticed that the flame on his tail was fading, the lack of oxygen must not have been very good for a fire type.
The tall grass moved behind him, it was Serena who had followed him, the injured pokemon still in her arms. Even though she had been running as well, Ash couldn't believe how fast she had caught up, and more importantly...
"Why did you follow me?" he yelled.
"Why did you leave?" Serena had yelled at almost the same time. "Do you know how many wild pokemons there are here? Go on, I'm listening."
"Ch..."
"Yeah, right! Enough to make a completely oblivious Charmander have a very, very, very bad time if he pisses one off! But that doesn't stop you from disappearing with Minun and... And where exactly is he?"
"Cha," the former human admitted.
Serena winced. Her salamander was worried, which was normal considering how injured the missing pokemon was. But that was no reason to scare his trainer!
"Now, stay close to me and we'll find Minun."
Ash did not agree. They had to separate to make sure...
"I'm not leaving you alone! Anyway, we must be closer to the Mauville Pokemon Center than Slateport, so we might as well keep going. And when I say go on, I mean go on together, do I make myself clear, Charmander?"
She didn't give him time to answer and started walking again, pretending to ignore the protests of the fire type.
"You're really... Wait for me!"
It had been dark for some time. Braixen was leading the way, using the flame of his staff to inspect the road with great care. Ash began to worry that he still hadn't found the long, blue-eared pokemon. He couldn't shake the fear that Minun had fainted and they had passed by without noticing him.
"Plus..."
Ash turned to the pokemon in his friend's arms. He still hadn't woken up and groaned from time to time.
"Don't worry. The potion has taken effect," Serena reassured him. "And it looks like we've arrived," she observed.
In fact, he could make out some lights in the distance, if he watched the night closely enough. As they got closer, Ash found it harder and harder to believe that this was the city he knew, for it had changed so much since he had last been here. In fact, it no longer looked like a city at all. What he saw was a huge hermetically sealed box with glass sides that allowed to see inside. It was a bit like a zoo, where pokemons lived their lives, well-protected in their glass enclosures, without worrying about the curious humans who watched them.
But the fact that he had come here without meeting Minun... Had he finally arrived in Mauville and joined the leader, or was he unconscious somewhere in the tall grass? Ash immediately wanted to go to Wattson's gym to check, and if the rabbit wasn't there, he was ready to go back the whole Route 110 in the opposite direction. But he didn't have to take such drastic measures, Serena had just spotted the little pokemon leaning against the railing that bordered the street.
Ash rushed over to the suffering monster, trying to find out where he was hurt or if there was anything he could do to make it feel better. The long-eared pokemon opened one eye and spoke in a pasty voice.
"I'm thirsty."
Ash tensed. He didn't have a canteen, and the water that lined the path was too salty to quench the pokemon's thirst. It was such a simple request, and yet he was unable to comply. Suddenly, he felt a gentle hand on his back. Serena had crouched down and smiled.
"I'll take care of him," she said, setting Plusle down next to his spiritual brother. "Braixen, you can go back to your pokeball and rest."
"Xen," the pokemon protested.
"You've already helped us. There's no point in all ending up exhausted," the trainer explained calmly.
The vixen understood that her trainer was already worried about the fake pokemon who refused to rest. It was useless for her to add to that.
"Braix," she finally gave in, giving the shapeshifter a reproachful look.
Ash lowered his head, he would have liked to be more useful instead of waiting for the girl to take care of everything. It was no wonder that Minun refused his help and went on a mad dash to Mauville until he collapsed from exhaustion.
"It's not your fault," the girl muttered.
Ash looked at her. She kept her face focused as she worked to apply the potion to the pokemon's wounds. And even as she did so, she found time to calm him down. The former human approached and grabbed the girl's long red cloak between his claws.
"Why do you seem to suffer every time I help you?" the trainer asked, not hiding the sadness she felt.
"I feel like I'm relying on you too much," the fake pokemon admitted.
Wattson couldn't stand it anymore. He had spent his day tinkering with battered robots and restarting faulty circuits in the security system. Not that he wasn't passionate about it, but he had too many gray hairs to end his day this late. Not to mention his gym, which he had to close for the day to make the repairs.
The old man sighed as he pulled his jacket back on over his yellow overalls, which were full of oil stains. The worst part was that there was still a lot of repair work to be done and he felt that it would take him several weeks to complete his task. Benjamin was very lucky to have a friend like him and he should have bought him a drink or even a restaurant.
Wattson laughed at the idea, a loud, fat laugh that startled the few employees at the Cycling Road reception. The gym leader didn't care how people looked at him. To him, laughter was synonymous with health, so he wasn't going to hold back to please a few introverts.
As soon as he stepped outside, Wattson noticed the difference between the warmth of the computer room where he had spent his day and the cold of the night. He regretted not wearing a sweatshirt this morning instead of his much too light short-sleeved jacket. Rubbing his hands together to warm them, the leader walked casually toward the lights of his city.
He was in a hurry to find his bed and did not hold back his yawn. His eyes burned, as if grains of sand had crept between his eyelids and cornea. He was surprised, he usually had no problem staying up late. He must be getting old, or maybe it was easier to stay awake amidst the hustle and bustle of the casino than it was on boring Route 110. Frankly, he must be the only person stupid enough to walk down that old muddy road in the middle of the night.
He was forced to disprove his hypothesis when he noticed a young girl on the outskirts of Mauville. Strange, normally trainers would hurry back into town instead of crouching outside. Wattson felt his curiosity piqued. Had this girl found a treasure or a rare new pokemon? He would only find out if he explored further.
"Wahaha! What's a girl doing here at this hour?" he exclaimed.
Serena jumped at the sound of that overly cheerful voice. She didn't dare turn around or answer, afraid that the man who had approached her was a thief or something like that. After all, he was the kind of person you would find after dark.
Suddenly, she noticed the delighted look on the salamander's face as he walked confidently towards the stranger. However, she did not allow him to join the man, and she pinned him down with one of her arms, while at the same time placing her free hand on one of her pokeballs.
"Calm down, I did not mean to scare you," Wattson said hastily.
For once, the gym leader was not unhappy with the bright lights of the city, which could illuminate the surrounding area for several miles. It was always more reassuring to see a stranger's face clearly than to face a disembodied shadow. After a while, the old man noticed the two small figures hidden behind the girl.
"What are you doing here?"
"Do you know them?" asked Serena.
The gym leader knelt down beside the injured pokemons and felt their cheeks. He could only feel a few tingles on his fingertips, and even then, he had to concentrate to notice them.
"We'll get them to the center right away," Wattson said, taking the two injured into his arms.
The last few kilometers, which were done at a run, were a real torture for the young girl who had to carry the salamander. The old man was far from slow, despite his curves, and they soon arrived at the Pokemon Center.
Wattson crushed the reception bell under his hand, not worrying about waking the nurse. Joy came in with a tight smile and the reddened eyes of someone who had just woken up from a deep sleep. She did not complain, however, and took charge of the two injured. Serena breathed a sigh of relief and hurried to find a chair before her legs gave out from exhaustion.
"Charman," the pokemon worried.
"I need a little break," she said, still panting. But Wattson had no intention of letting her rest. As soon as she sat down, the old man peppered her with questions about the circumstances of her encounter with Plusle and Minun.
The old man had finished his interrogation, and he felt that his day was far from over. He glanced at the wall clock; indeed, the day had not waited for him to end. Great, he had officially missed his blood pressure medication. But he'd never really believed in the benefits of those pills, so missing a day or two, or even a week, didn't bother him.
The videophones crossed his eyes. He watched them for a long time, as if sensing that using them would definitely put an end to his chances of sleeping tonight.
"Come on, old man, you'll see you're worrying for nothing," he encouraged himself.
A call, he just had to make a call to New Mauville to make sure everything was okay. He dialed the number and waited for someone to answer. But nothing, just the annoying tone indicating that the caller was not available. Had he dialed the wrong number? He hung up, tapped the keys slowly to make sure his thick fingers didn't touch the unwanted digits, and finally got the same unbearable sound.
"You'll answer at the end," Wattson fumed, and made a third attempt.
Again the tone. The old man could not believe it. Sure, it was late, but the employees should answer. And above all, he shouldn't hear that sound, which was synonymous with a cut line.
The leader wasted no time and went to the square in front of the center. There was a tower a few feet tall, illuminated by the surrounding floodlights. Wattson walked around it several times, then opened a small box hidden in one of the structure's feet to check that everything was in working order. All the lights were green and no wires were disconnected, but the tower did not glow. Wattson was in no mood to laugh, really. It was impossible for it not to react if New Mauville was unreachable.
He returned to the center, tried one last call, and finally pressed the "off" button on the videophone.
"What's wrong?" tried Serena, seeing the old man's agitated state.
The leader stopped himself at the last moment from yelling at the young girl. He rubbed his eyes, trying to regain his reputation of "cheerful grandpa".
"Small... worries," he said, his jaw tightening. "But no need to worry. Besides, you'd better get some rest, it's not good to stay up late."
Serena yawned, she wanted to take a good shower and lie down on a soft mattress. But she replied:
"I'd rather wait until the nurse comes back to see how Plusle and Minun are doing."
Wattson stared at the trainer. He understood that she was worried about the two monsters, but staying awake would not change their condition. So she might as well get some rest, especially since...
"I know one who didn't wait," the leader remarked.
Serena looked at her sleeping pokemon on her lap, stroking her head before explaining:
"I want to be able to tell him that they are fine when he wakes up," she whispered.
Wattson smiled. He had met a lot of talented trainers lately, but he always had the unpleasant feeling that there was something missing in all these youngsters. As if they had lost something fundamental compared to their elders. Maybe it was just the ramblings of an old man who began to use those pompous "it was better before" phrases. But now that he was watching this young girl, Wattson had a better understanding of the reason for his earlier discomfort.
"Still, I thought he would last longer," the old man laughed.
"He's got a lot of energy, but his body doesn't always follow," the girl grinned.
"Wahaha! It can't be easy every day."
Wattson shrank as he realized he had spoken too loudly. Fortunately, the little monster just shifted his position without waking up.
"It's not easy, but it's nice," Serena smiled as her pokemon's hand tightened on her dress.
Joy interrupted their discussion to announce that the two injured were out of the woods. It was like an electric shock that reminded Wattson of all his worries.
"I have to go!" the old man shouted, this time waking the false pokemon.
"Charm?"
"Plusle and Minun are fine, we should go to bed," Serena suggested.
"Der!?" Ash replied, pointing at Wattson who was about to leave the center.
"It's true that he looked upset, but I don't think we should..."
The monster had already jumped out of his seat and was chasing after the gym leader.
"Why does it always end like this?"
Wattson and Serena did everything they could to convince the salamander to stay in the center. But the monster was stubborn, clinging to the old man's suit to make sure he didn't leave without him.
"When he's like that, it's almost impossible to talk to him," Serena sighed.
The leader lifted his leg in the air. The pokemon dangled, its claws firmly anchored in the polyester outfit.
"I can see that," a dejected Wattson breathed.
He scratched his white hair, the monster did not seem to be the type to obey his trainer wisely. The old man was careful not to say anything, but if Charmander was behaving badly now, Serena might have a lot of trouble with him once he evolved. Well, he might as well take the opportunity to show the girl how to deal with this stubborn pokemon.
The power plant was isolated on a small island outside the city, completely surrounded by the waves, and there was only one way to reach it. The scientist hurried to remove the veil that covered a small motorboat.
As Ash boarded, he thought he saw two shadows creeping across the boat, but he quickly forgot as his seasickness returned. He put his hand over his mouth to stop himself from gagging. He couldn't figure out what was causing the pain, especially since he'd never had such a problem when he was human. What if it continued once back to normal? He would never be able to enjoy a cruise again!
While Ash struggled with his problem, Serena and Wattson did their best not to fall asleep. It must be said that the rolling of the ship and the silence of the night were not enough to keep their senses alert.
"I would like to know... why does the construction in front of the center look like the Prism Tower?"
"Wahaha! Do you know what that tower looks like?" laughed Wattson, glad they had found something to talk about and a way to stay awake.
"Of course, it's the same as in Lumiose City."
"Are you from Kalos?"
"Yes, I began my journey there."
"I can see why you don't have the usual Hoenn starter. For a moment, I really thought Birch had adopted the Kanto way, wahaha! Finally, to answer your question, we built this replica because we are paired with Lumiose. It was a way to make a statement and create a warning system."
"A warning? But what does it... Charmander! You'll fall if you lean too far!"
Wattson waited until Serena had taken the fire reptile back into her arms to explain:
"The power plant in New Mauville supplies our town with electricity. If there is a blackout or something, it immediately sends out a signal that causes the replica of the Prism Tower to glow. It's a system I developed with the help of the gym leader from Lumiose."
"You mean Clemont?" smiled Serena.
"Yes, we're both electrical specialists and inventors. But I'm still surprised that you know him, especially since he hasn't been in his gym much lately."
"We used to travel all over Kalos with his little sister and another friend. He always invented a lot of machines, but..."
"But?"
"They always exploded," the girl remembered with a small smile.
"Wahaha! Failure is the mother of success."
"No doubt," the girl sighed, suspecting that it was useless to argue.
Yeah, whether in Kalos or Hoenn, Serena would never understand the logic of inventors.
A little anecdote: The beginning of the chapter may seem strange, but it came to me just after a train trip that started with a 1 hour delay and 2 stops in the middle of the track. The SNCF... But hey, it was time to apply the XY/XY&Z saying "no experience is useless" and I came up with this chapter introduction.